The Death of My First Assignment (Death Series)

by Ami Urban

  THE DEATH OF MY FIRST ASSIGNMENT

  by

  Ami Urban

  Published by

  IRISH ANONYMOUS

  Ami Urban

  Copyright © 2013 by Ami Urban

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copy-righted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Chapter One

  My best friend once said that when you die, there’s nothing. Endless, dreamless sleep. Then again, there’s a biblical place with angels, wistful clouds, and I bet all the Milky Way Bars and Lil’ Debbie Swiss Rolls you could eat.

  Hell. Endless fire and brimstone. The unrepentant sinner endures perpetual suffering at the hands of the devil.

  Well, it’s all crap and I should know. Because I’ve been there.

  Even so, I was just like everyone else. When I looked in the mirror, I saw green eyes, shoulder-length dark brown hair, and a face moderately covered in freckles.

  I went about my day like everyone else, too. Every morning, I’d get up, stalk toward the tiny bathroom with half-lidded eyes, ward off the solar flare of light when I flicked the switch, and turn the shower all the way to scalding. Okay, so maybe normal people didn’t take volcanically hot showers. But I didn’t say I was normal. Just…the same.

  I had problems just like anyone else.

  Should I call that Mark kid back and let him take me to a movie next week? He was kind of creepy, so I thought I’d pass in the end. I didn’t get out much these days, what with work and school, but who did?

  Should I sleep in or get up early to finish my homework?

  Should I toss rules aside and paint the back wall of my apartment red like I’d always wanted?

  I even had hobbies.

  Count them! Drawing, writing, singing—well, the latter was really more of a gift. But gifts count as hobbies if you like them, right? I’d given up drawing in recent months because most of my time was spent doing homework. But my Science Fiction Literature teacher from the days I spent at a physical school was helping me with the writing, so that was going pretty well. As far as singing…heh…I didn’t need practice.

  I was also alone. Very, very alone.

  Thursday morning on February 1, I woke up to my very first assignment.

  A popular high school girl in Texas was going to get hit by a bus, and I had to be there. I just hoped I knew what I was doing.

  I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes while walking toward the only bathroom in my “co-signed” apartment. I turned the shower on. No hot water. Lovely. I thought the heating bill had been paid weeks ago! Oh well, guess a cold shower never hurt anyone, right?

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, sticking out my tongue to make sure it was still pink. Yep, nothing sinister about that.

  “Don’t screw this one up... Kathleen,” I said to myself, pointing at the mirror.

  I was just like everyone else. Yup, I brushed my teeth in the morning, took a nice cold shower, and put on the same kinds of clothes everyone else wore.

  There was only one difference between me and you—only one tiny thing which separated me from all other living sixteen-year-olds on Planet Earth. While everyone else lived their lives, spending time with family and friends, eating pastries in coffee shops and heading out to school on a daily basis, I was different.

  My name was Katherine (but everybody called me Katie) Bunny and for all intents and purposes, I was supposed to be dead.

  Chapter Two

  I was supposed to be dead.

  Being Martin Krane sucked. No, it wasn’t at all like being John Malkovich, or anything.

  First of all, I’d been living in the same body for two hundred years because some stupid wraith I’d sold my soul to was trying to collect. But he never got what he wanted.

  I made sure of that.

  Second of all, I hated going on assignment. And today was no different.

  Every time he wanted me to find someone, he would leave me messages all over the place.

  When I woke up, my computer monitor was on, a word document open. In the center of the white page was a single address in Texas. The person’s name: Serena Gibbons. I sighed.

  “No. Not after what happened last time. I need a break.”

  The words were absurd; I knew it. This wasn’t a normal job. I couldn’t just take a vacation any time I needed one.

  But the fact of the matter was I was still reeling from the loss of someone I really cared about. She was special…in more ways than one.

  When I opened my bedroom door, something floated to the floor. It fluttered in haphazard fashion on the stale air in my apartment, then landed right between my feet. I stooped to pick it up.

  It was a plane ticket to Texas. He was going to force this one on me. She must have been important.

  I could never understand why he always wanted me to go on assignment for him.

  Didn’t he realize I wouldn’t do what he wanted?

  I wasn’t a bounty hunter and I wasn’t going to take her soul—not now, not ever, not for anyone.

  In the kitchen, I opened the cupboard above the sink. A plastic bag of powdered sugar landed on the counter in front of me—a euphemism for cocaine.

  “So, she does drugs.” I wasn’t impressed. “Doesn’t matter what she does in her spare time, I’m not taking her soul.”

  I took a mug from its place and filled it with water. Sprinkling a spoonful of powdery instant coffee, I slipped in the microwave, pressing the fast cook.

  Out of pure curiosity, my eyes kept locking on the bag of powdered sugar.

  I picked it up, slid open the teeth, and dipped one finger into the mixture. Then, I brought it to my mouth, tasting it.

  It was sugar, all right.

  I just had to be sure. Sometimes he went too far.

  I used some of the sugar in my coffee—anything to make that drivel taste better—and stalked into the bathroom.

  When I opened the medicine cabinet to retrieve something to shave my face with, a bottle of pills fell into my mug, splashing nuclear coffee all over my arm.

  I dropped the cup on the tiled floor where it smashed to pieces. In an instant, I was running my scorched wrist under the cool water from the sink. What a jerk he was being…

  “I get it! Prescription drugs, too? She must be famous…”

  Locating some expired burn ointment in my cupboards, I applied it and bandaged my arm. When I stepped back into the bathroom to clean up the mess, I stopped short, cocking my head to one side.

  The coffee had leaked into the grout, flowing between the tiles in a very specific fashion. I sighed one final time, feeling my head start to ache.

  “Fine!”

  I bent forward to collect the pieces of mug scattered on the floor. I picked up the bottle of pills, popped the top without reading the label, and flushed them all down the toilet. Then, I retrieved a towel to clean up the tiles. I read the message once more before starting my work. With less than an ounce of strength, I cleaned the word “GO” out of my grout.

  It looked as though Martin Krane was head
ed to Texas.

  Chapter Three

  Yep. I was headed to Texas.

  I’d never been there before, so maybe this would be a nice experience. I kept having to tell myself that it wasn’t a vacation, though.

  I tightened my grip around my paper coffee cup. I couldn’t stand waiting by myself for anyone or anything. As always happened when I had nothing else to do, my thoughts drifted...

  “Katie...we made a mistake... You’re a Siren.”

  I stared Mandy straight in the eyes, my heart hammering against my ribcage. “My...my song froze Irish Moses...”

  She nodded. “Yes. We didn’t know. You have a rare soul, Katie Bunny. You weren’t supposed to die.”

  I sucked in a breath and held it. Had I heard her right? I wasn’t supposed to die? In that moment, I wasn’t sure how to feel.

  “Those with rare souls can’t be killed by conventional means as we’re sure you came to find out on your own. Katie Bunny...you have to go back.”

  I dropped to my knees in the sand. Back?

  “Back where?” The question slipped out. “Back home? Back to my old life? Back to before the accident? What about all the living I did?”

  Mandy shook her head. “We cannot rewind a second time after an event has happened; it could damage the time continuum. All we can do is put you back to now—the moment when you died this time. We have big plans for you, Katie Bunny. But you’re going to have to change.”

  “Change?”

  “Yes. You’ll have to change how you look, how you act, your name...”

  “I have to stay dead to everyone.” I felt my heart drop into the sand at my knees.

  “You have to stay dead to everyone.”

  “Katie?”

  I sat up, clearing my throat and tucking a strand of dark hair behind one ear.

  “Hey.”

  I looked into the ghostly blue eyes of Kevin Carter, my former Science Fiction Literature teacher. “What’s doin’?”

  He placed a heavy hand on the top of my head as a sign of affection. Then, he took his seat across from me in the tiny Starbucks.

  “Thinking about the accident again.” It wasn’t a question.

  Mr. Carter was half non-practicing wraith—alter-dimensional creatures that bought and sold human souls—and he could read my thoughts.

  “Yeah...”

  He heaved a sigh. “Are you remembering more about what happened?”

  My body gave an involuntary shudder.

  When I’d been “revived,” some of my memories had suffered.

  I remembered dying twice, an accident, and some creepy wraith named Irish Moses who’d tried to make several deals with me to buy my soul. I had what was called a “rare soul.” Obviously, those are hard to come by.

  “I still have flashes sometimes of weird things,” I said numbly.

  Mr. Carter said nothing as I drew my paper coffee cup closer.

  “I keep seeing a beach…fog…singing to someone… And all the flashes come with strong emotions. Fear, pain, sadness…love…” I shook my head as tears burned behind my eyes. “Sometimes I think staying dead would have been better.”

  “Don’t say that, Katie…”

  I sighed. In the preceding weeks, I’d had to change my appearance quite a bit.

  My hair was now shoulder-length and a deep brown with blond highlights.

  I’d started wearing darker makeup and even drinking coffee.

  “Your parents are doing better.” Mr. Carter brought me out of my stupor. I perked.

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded. I’d asked him to keep an eye on them after I was gone.

  We’d been meeting up at the same Starbucks every week to discuss it. It had been less than a month, so I knew they were horribly devastated.

  He’d told me they’d surrounded themselves with extended family, receiving gifts and maintaining an ongoing wake.

  “They’re thinking about being foster parents,” he said. “Seems they think it’s what you would’ve wanted.”

  I smiled. “It’s what they would’ve wanted. In a way, it’s what I wanted for them.”

  “They’re looking at fostering four.”

  “Four!” I felt a twinge of both excitement and sadness.

  “They told me three boys and a girl. They were all in the same group home, and your mom and dad didn’t want to separate them,” he said, looking around to the menu behind the counter.

  “Wow… How old?”

  “Aiden’s the oldest at six, Doyle’s four, Cyrus is four, and Charlotte—or Charlie—is one.” He smiled. “Excuse me, I need some caffeine.”

  “No problem…” My thoughts were on the family to come.

  I wished I could have been there to see those kids after my parents adopted them.

  I felt so uplifted knowing my mom and dad wouldn’t get divorced over my death. They were strengthening their relationship by adopting a zoo of children! I loved the idea.

  I felt a tear fall down my cheek. They were going to be okay.

  “You all right, Katie?” Mr. Carter sat back down across from me.

  I wiped my cheek with the back of one hand. “Yeah. I’m glad they’re doing well,” I said. “Sometimes, I’ll drive by to see if I can catch a glimpse of them.”

  “Just make sure you aren’t seen…” He leaned forward to place a hand on my arm. “The afterlifers can renege on their deal if you are.”

  “I’m careful.”

  “Well!” Leaning back, he allowed a smile to spread across his face. “How’s school?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Great. I’m glad I could take the classes online. Kathleen Bruner is on her way to GED.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I liked Katie Bunny better, too.”

  I watched him scrub a hand through his dark beard. In that moment, I wished I could read his thoughts like he could mine.

  “Kevin!” someone shouted behind me.

  My former teacher stood, leaning both hands on the table.

  “That’s me. Be right back.”

  I waited for him to retrieve some sugar and milk.

  He smiled at a woman who was taking her sweet time gathering her purse from the condiment table. When he sat back down, he set his coffee to one side; it was too hot to drink. I watched the steam rise from the cup, curling around the air as if it were grabbing a hold of something.

  “Mr. Carter, how did you know I was a Siren before I did?”

  His eyebrows knitted together. “Katie, please call me Kevin.”

  He inhaled. “Ordinarily, it’s hard to decipher a Siren from a normal person. Wraiths even have a hard time unless a Siren sings for them. Even then, a Siren can hide their ability from the wraith. The only other way for them to find out is to read the person. They don’t like doing that, though, because if the person knows they’re a Siren, they’ll know they’re being read.

  “It’s completely normal for people with naturally occurring rare souls not to know they have them until they mature,” he said. “And a lot of times, the abilities won’t present themselves until after puberty.”

  A sudden feeling of déjà vu enveloped me. But it wasn’t your every day, run of the mill déjà vu when someone somewhere dies and time is rewound so they get a second chance (like me). I remembered someone saying those exact words to me. I somehow knew it had been explained to me that way before. But when? And by whom?

  “So…you read me again?” I shook off the feeling. “That night I brought you home to meet my parents? Is that why I felt all prickly in the middle of dinner?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. It feels kinda like you’ve got a spider under your skin. It really creeps people out.”

  “I hate spiders… So…how do I hide my ability from a wraith?”

  “Now that you know you’re a Siren, a wraith can only be swayed by your song if you want them to be.”

  “Oh… Because I went to this karaoke bar the other night, and I was singing for a crowd—just to see if it would work on normal peo
ple…”

  “Did it? Sirens are very rare. I’ve never known one.”

  “I don’t know… Some of the people were really into it. The others just sort of ignored me.”

  “Hmm… I wonder if those that were intrigued had rare souls.”

  “I think two of them were wraiths.”

  Mr. Carter’s shoulders drooped. “How do you know?”

  “I don’t know…”

  He nodded. “Did you have to banish any of them?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I hightailed it out of there as soon as I could. I don’t want to banish any wraiths.”

  “Well…”

  I cringed every time he started his sentences that way.

  “There will come a day when you have no choice.”

  At last, he pulled his coffee cup toward him, blew on the steam, and took a sip. “Any news on your first assignment yet?”

  “Oh...yeah. I had this dream last night...”

  “A dream?” He leaned forward.

  “Yeah. Mandy came to me.”

  I stifled a shiver.

  The alter-dimensional “elders” in the next dimension couldn’t show themselves to a “neutral” person; their forms were beyond our brain’s reasoning. And every time they came to me, they used the image of a former friend of mine.

  It always creeped me out.

  “What did she say?”

  “Besides all the elusive comments and riddles? I think those elders live to tease.”

  “I don’t know if you can call it living,” Mr. Carter joked.

  I gave him a reluctant smile. “Anyway, she said that I have to pretend to be an exchange student in Texas. A girl’s going to get hit by a bus.”

  “Ouch.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Wait... And exchange student?” Mr. Carter raised a dark eyebrow. “You’re from California.”

  “Not anymore. I’m now a Canadian.”

  My former teacher stifled a laugh.

  I sighed.

  “My only hope is that she believes what I’ll have to tell her.”

  Chapter Four