Authors: C.M. Torrens
He held Robert tight to him a moment, the heat of his body so comfortable against him. His distinct musk mingled with a pleasant spiced scent that invited attention. The firelight flickered just off stage, giving his skin a golden glow.
Death shook his head, releasing him. “I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what? You just saved me. Come on,” Robert said.
A firm grip clamped around Death's hand as Robert pulled him from the chaos back stage. Panicked dancers shoved them out of the way and raced through the smoke. Dark fumes billowed around them, filling the air with a haze. Flashy costumes glittered under flickering lights as Robert led him through the tangle of props. Robert coughed and tripped as the smoke grew thicker. Death caught his arm, pulling him back up. His eyes scanned for an exit and fell on a glowing sign.
Death pushed the door open. A cool rush of fresh air billowed around them. The whine of fire trucks wailed in the distance. The panicked crowd gathered in the parking lot to watch as help arrived. Several dancers and emergency personnel bombarded Robert with questions, drawing him out of reach. Death studied the young dancer a moment, longing to be close to him again. He forced his eyes away as worry bubbled in his chest. His interference would not go unnoticed.
He winced and started back into the club. He had work to do. The consequences were something he could deal with later.
Stepping back inside the burning club, he opened his second sight to search for the souls he needed to take. The smoke didn't exist, nor did fire or danger as he picked his way through the maze to find them. People cried out for help, but not to him. They weren't his concern.
In the main room spirits rose from lifeless bodies, their still shells forgotten as they drifted toward him in semi-transparent forms. Some wept and some smiled as they glided through the flames, untouched by heat and sharp debris.
Without a word he raised his hand and concentrated, tapping the hidden door to the other side and drawing it forward. Slowly, he let one reality fall away as another took its place. A portal of swirling gray mass rose up, opening and widening. Faint, indistinguishable whispers rippled from within, beckoning the souls he'd taken.
The spirits glided into a line, the portal calling them. Death couldn't understand the words, but the spirits did. Their faces lit up with joy, and a glow wrapped around them as they reached out for the gray whirlpool. One by one, they slipped away, disappearing through the swirling door, and they were gone.
He let the portal fall away as the entryway flickered like a reflection on water. Again, one reality replaced another. The gate quivered and was gone.
Firefighters burst through the door spraying water in every direction. Smoke and steam billowed thick around him. The frantic work to save the lost always left him feeling torn and uncertain. He couldn't help but wonder if their efforts were futile. He often knew well in advance when a person's time was coming, but did that mean the series of events were already in motion or was fate to blame?
He shook his head, ridding himself of the thoughts that plagued him more often these days.
Rescue workers carried on around him, oblivious to his presence. Electricity sparked and debris crashed as firefighters raced to the injured. Smoke filled the air, blinding victims and rescuers alike. Water speckled Death's exposed skin, thick with dirt and ash as it tickled his cheeks. Around him several rescuers carried out injured people, and the last of the fire was doused. He left them to finish alone and stepped out the front doors.
Death scanned the crowd for Robert and found him across the parking lot being led away from the club with a bunch of others. Death slipped into the thick crowd and let himself get lost in the chaos.
"Are you sure you're okay?” Jerry asked.
Robert nodded and searched the crowd trying to find his rescuer. “Where's Simon?"
People pressed close, eager to see the destruction and excitement, and cops shouted to push people away from the site. Lights flickered and loud voices filled the air.
"Who?"
Jerry was still dressed in his mock cowboy outfit. His assless chaps framing firm, golden cheeks that he was all too happy to flaunt at the passing rescue workers. Blond hair matted to his head from the drizzle and his make-up was smeared. If Jerry had only known what he looked like right now, he might have died of embarrassment instead of ogling the firefighters around them. “God, I love a man in uniform."
Robert shook his head. Jerry was the biggest flirt on the planet. If it was male and human, he was all smiles.
"Jerry, pay attention for a second. The guy that pulled me out of the way of the lights. Where did he go?"
"Huh?” Jerry asked, forcing his eyes away from the firemen with some effort.
Robert bit back his annoyance. “The guy that saved me from the lights. He was just here."
"There was a guy? Hmm, must not have been paying attention. Must be losing it to have missed that, then again, there are so many tempting treats around here. Was he hurt or something?"
"No."
Cops and firemen swarmed around them, asking questions, and someone threw a blanket over Robert's shoulders. He scanned the crowd again for Simon and caught sight of him through the throng.
Straight brown hair and somber, chiseled face. He had such sad eyes, Robert wanted to reach out and wash it all away. He didn't seem like a man who had seen much affection or kindness in a long time.
"Back up, please. Back up,” one of the cops said, waving the crowed farther away from the club.
People bumped and pushed their way behind the police line. Robert staggered and Jerry caught him before he fell into the masses. The surge of people pushed him farther from Simon before the crowd swallowed him up.
Sighing heavily, Robert turned back to the flock of cops and answered another round of questions. His bones ached, and predawn light was growing on the horizon before Jerry drove him home.
The memories of the lights crashing down on those men, the panicked screams and choking fire didn't leave him. He tried to will away the images, but the scent of smoke clinging to his skin kept causing them to resurface. The cops hadn't even said how many were killed, but more than one person had been lifted out of the rubble and into an ambulance, ominously silent as it pulled away.
Jerry stopped in front of his apartment a while later. Robert sat in the passenger seat for a long moment.
Damn, what a night.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. You?"
Jerry nodded, his eyes thoughtful as he stared off down the street.
The silence stretched out between them, and Robert forced himself to open the car door. The adrenaline crash hit him hard. Everything ached as exhaustion seeped into his bones. “I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
"Call me later, okay?"
Robert grunted and waved him away. Stepping into his cheap little apartment, he stripped out of his pants for a quick shower before he dropped onto the bed.
Lying in bed, his thoughts returned to the club chaos and his strong-armed hero, Simon. There was something so drawing about him. Robert couldn't seem to get his mind off the quiet man. Hadn't he asked him out again? It seemed like it, though now that wasn't likely to happen. He'd hoped to give him his number after the show. The whole bit of chaos threw him off. Damn, it had been way too long since he'd had a proper date. The nightly propositions were getting old. He wanted something real. He'd spent too much of his life like Jerry, chasing whatever attractive man crossed his path. Jerry might be able to fuck anything that moved, but Robert was ready for more.
He was, well, lonely. The privacy he had adored when he got his apartment now seemed too quiet. Coming home to an empty bed was growing more depressing by the day. Too many nights had passed wondering if he'd ever find someone to share his life with and make it count. Make it really mean something, and not just be some passing fancy. Romantic notions to be sure, but maybe not impossible.
Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about Simon and his lost chance with that particular Prince Charming.
Death wandered the city through the night, taking souls until the calls came to an end. With a gentle sigh he sat down in the alley beside an old bum. His corpse lay rotting, untouched for three days now, but his spirit still lingered. Death had tried to convince him to go through several times, but the old man was confused and afraid. Sometimes that happened. Depressed or angry souls too attached to this world, or something in it, just refused to go on to the next.
"If I go through, what happens?” he asked
Death sighed and shook his head. “I don't know. I've never been. I'm not allowed to look."
"Haven't you ever peeked?"
"I can't. I can only open the portal. I can't pass through. I'm barred from entry."
"Oh,” the old man said. “That's gotta suck."
Death smiled. “I'm accustomed to it."
The old man studied his body as it lay halfway between a dumpster and a cardboard box. “Do you think they'll find me today?"
"It's just a body. It holds nothing of you anymore."
"I think I already miss having one. Can't drink without a body."
Death twitched a smile. “I should be going. I have work to do. I might not have time to come back and ask again. Do you want me to open the portal? You really shouldn't stay here. You could be trapped here for a very long time. You can't do much here, really. Not as a spirit."
"What if over there's no better?"
He wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't be certain that the other side was any better, but surely anything over there was better than here. At least something there called to souls.
"You know, you really aren't very good at this job,” the old man said.
"Why do you say that?"
"Aren't you supposed to convince me to go?"
"No. The decision has to be yours."
"Another one of those rules? Eh, what stupid rules. Can't I just wait until they find my body? I don't like the idea of me rotting there and no one finding me. They keep letting me rot away, and my family will never know I'm dead.” His shoulders slumped and a sad sigh drifted from his lips.
Death thought a long moment, uncertain what to do for the old spirit. Life had not been the best for him here. He could at least give him a little bit longer to wait. He disliked leaving souls about, they grew so sad and lonely. He knew that loneliness all too well. “I'll come back soon, but that's the last time. If you say no then, I'll have to go. You'll have to find me if you ever want to go through after that."
"All right. I'll be here. I just want them to find me is all."
Death said nothing and got slowly to his feet. The old spirit went back to sit beside his body, his sad eyes on his empty shell as he waited to be found.
His mind wandered and his thoughts turned to Robert, the attractive dancer in the mock mobster outfit. The sway of his hips and the ripples of his body drifted through his mind like a warm dream. Death could almost smell the scent of spiced musk that lingered on his skin. He couldn't rid his mind of the memory. He reached into his pocket and took out the white rose Robert had tossed to him. The flower remained fresh and fragrant. Perfect petals in half bloom trapped with him in time.
How long had it been since someone had reminded him he was flesh? Reminded him he could want and feel things?
He suddenly had the urge to go see him again and found himself moving toward Robert's home a few minutes later. Uncertain if it was the call or his own desires, he let himself find his way back toward the bus stop.
Hope. The luxury of such an emotion warmed the soul he'd thought dead. An invigorating yet unnerving sensation that twisted his gut and flooded him with energy. He found himself walking faster than usual, eager to see if Robert would be there. But what would he say if he was? And if he wasn't, could he risk taking a peek at him again? The memory of bronze skin and white sheets sent a hungry shudder through him.
He rounded the corner to the bus stop. His heart sank at the sight of the empty bench and he looked down the road toward the apartment complex. He couldn't very well explain how he knew where Robert lived if he happened to run into him there.
Disappointment bloomed. Another emotion that felt alien to him. The sharp sting of fading hope and the drop in his gut gave him a flutter of excitement. To feel again, even if it was such a grim emotion, was a thrilling concept.
"Simon?” a voice called.
Death turned at the sound of Robert's voice.
Simon
, the name was still a surprise to hear aloud.
He caught his breath as he took Robert in. Curls of dark hair falling around his face and eyes so alive with joy and life.
An unexpected surge of want seeped into his bones. To see him, touch him, to enjoy every inch of him. A knowing smile rippled across Robert's lips, and Death pulled his eyes away.
"I was hoping you'd show up here,” Robert said.
The plastic bags in his hand rattled, drawing Death's attention to the groceries in Robert's hands.
"You left before we could talk."
Death hesitated. “I had to work."
"Deliveries keeping you busy?"
"No busier than usual, but I have deadlines,” he said motioning to the bags. “Would you like help?"
"Sure."
Death took half the bags from Robert and they walked toward the apartments down the street. He barely noticed the buzz of traffic over the excited flutter of his heart.
"I'm out of a job for a while. Your place wouldn't happen to be hiring, would it?"
Death winced. “You wouldn't want my job, Robert. I rarely stay in one place long and it gets... very lonely."
"You just have to be more outgoing. Make some friends."
Death said nothing and let Robert lead the way down the hall to his apartment.
"Want to come in? You aren't working now, are you?"
"I'm always working, but I have a little time."