Souls of the Reaper

by Markie Madden

  “And, oh, what a destiny that has become,” he whispered, speaking to himself and to the empty room. The shadow of Ling hung over his life, like the comforting feel of a patio umbrella on a hot summer day. He remembered how she’d been so patient and sensitive during his training. Reapers were given an important duty, and there was much more to it than harvesting a human soul. Ling’s compassion aroused him as much as her lithe, exotic, and athletic body.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  “You have to be very careful.” Ling stood behind him, her gentle palms brushing the tops of his hands. “The human soul is extremely delicate when removed from its current host. It’s like touching a snowflake, a snowflake with a miniature nuclear reactor. They hold so much power, and yet they are so ignorant of that fact.”

  Xiong liked the feeling of her body pressed against his back, her arms hovering right above his. Even more, he liked the feeling of the steady whoosh-whoosh of energy pulsating from the elderly man who lay unmoving beneath the thin white cotton hospital sheet. The power ebbed and flowed in time to the steady beep of the heart monitor on the wall. In the dim light, he could barely see the movement of the man’s chest as he breathed. The human’s eyes were closed and there was a peaceful look on his face.

  The rhythm of the heart machine suddenly faltered, then steadied, and faltered again. The man’s chest rose and fell once more, and never rose again. The monitor stopped beating.

  “Now,” Ling whispered into his ear. “You have to take it now.”

  With her hands gently guiding his, Xiong prepared to harvest his first human soul. He watched Ling do it many times, and practiced on human pets. He stepped forward, placing one hand on the elderly man’s forehead, at the junction of the Third Eye, and one hand on his chest, the place of the Heart chakra. There he could feel the delicate threads of the soul, thinner even than spider’s webs, and far more fragile. Using his right hand to push energy into the man’s head, and his left to gently pull the tendrils of the soul through the man’s chest, he felt the rush of power circulating through him.

  Xiong felt the energy pulsing through him, not in a steady stream but in waves. Ling explained once that the soul retained a memory of the body, and the pulses he felt were simply the memory of a heartbeat left over from the dying host. He gathered the soul in his left hand, absorbing it and the energy it contained. When he was certain he had all the strands and nothing was left in the body, he cupped his hands and brought the glowing ball of silver energy to his face.

  “Just like we practiced.” Ling’s soft voice was encouraging. “Gently, now.”

  He rolled his hands, inspecting the ball, until he found the tiny golden thread that all human souls had in common. It was this gold thread that would sustain him; the rest of the soul’s energy would be released into the Universe, so it could rest and prepare for its next cycle of life. He inhaled deeply, watching as the golden thread drew closer to him, until it finally reached his mouth and was absorbed by his own body.

  With that, Xiong opened his right palm, where only the silvery soul remained. Using his left hand, he encouraged the glowing material to rise upward, like thick plumes of smoke in the air. He watched as the cloud became thinner and thinner, until he could no longer see even the pale haze of it. With the soul now gone, the portion he inhaled suddenly burst, and he clearly understood what Ling meant when she compared it to a tiny nuclear reactor. He could feel the soul’s energy coursing through him, even at the microscopic level of each individual cell in his body. It was like the first sip of an extraordinary wine. It was like the first experience of sex. It was like the first taste of the finest chocolate.

  He tasted sound, and heard the touch of Ling’s hand on his arm. He saw the words as she spoke to him. He felt the seductive pull of the soul’s energy. Every hair on his body stood on end, and he felt an instant erection. It was like he could feel everything at once, and the sensations overwhelmed his body. At that moment in time, he thought he could have run a marathon without breaking a sweat.

  “Very good.” Ling’s voice echoed as the memory faded out.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  God, I hate doing this paperwork! Disgusted, Lacey glared at her laptop screen, as if willing it to complete the reports for her. Over a hundred years of doing digital reports, yet everyone still called it ‘paperwork’. The arrest of the two dozen dog fight spectators, as well as those who organized the event, had created even more of a paper trail than their usual cases. But Lacey needed to go through each arrest report and make sure the charges were correct, so that when the cases went to court, the information would be available to anyone who needed it. The press was already contacting her, wanting to scoop a story, but she referred all those calls to the Media Liaison. She hated talking to reporters.

  As she reached for yet another report, the phone on her desk rang. Saved by the bell. “Anderson.”

  “Lieutenant, this is Doctor Matthews from Medical City.”

  “Hello, doctor. What can I do for you?”

  “Your assault victim seems to be recovering. He woke briefly this morning, and seems to be coming around again. You asked me to call if you could talk to him, and I think maybe you’ll be able to in an hour or so.”

  “Thanks so much for letting me know. My partner and I will see you shortly.”

  Rather than walk out into the bullpen to call Colton, she simply grabbed her phone and sent a short text message. With a grin, she remembered a time when no one would have considered making a phone call, or sending a text message for that matter, to anyone who was in the same building as them. The only constant in the Universe is change. It wasn’t the first time the thought crossed Lacey’s mind. After their last big case, when the involvement of Colton’s ancestors in the slaughter of her family came to light, she spent a lot of time thinking about her past. Though it was still hard at times, she grew to trust her new partner when he saved her life, and she was learning to hold no malice toward him, or Wolves in general. The department’s psychologist, Doctor Dilorenzo, was gently guiding her through therapy.

  Colton stuck his head in her door. “You ready?”

  Relieved to have an excuse to leave the pile of busy work, she nodded and grabbed her jacket from the back of her desk chair. Lacey was glad to be on the move again; idle time left too much room for thinking.

  They climbed into Lacey’s car, and as she drove from the parking ramp, she commented, “At this time of day, we’ll be lucky to make it over to Medical City in an hour.”

  “Yep, I hear that.” Colton heartily agreed. “I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no rush hour in Dallas anymore. I call it ‘rush day’ instead.”

  Lacey burst out laughing. “Wow, I like that.” She gasped for breath. “But I think you’re totally right!” She watched her partner settle back into the passenger seat. He had yet to grab for the retractable ‘chicken stick’ above his window, and she wondered if he was getting used to her driving style.

  “Want music?” Colton asked as he looked out the front windshield.

  “You can turn it on if you want.” Lacey remembered the first time he rode in her car, and smiled at the thought of her breaking his fingers if he so much as touched the stereo. So much has changed since then, she thought. And that wasn’t all that long ago. He fiddled with the control until the sound of classic rock pumped through the speakers. She saw his head begin to bob in time with the beat. Though they were still new to the partnership, she already knew the music helped to soothe him in some way, and she didn’t mind his music whenever they were in the car. Or, not much anyway. Ten years ago, she wouldn’t have believed she was working side by side with a Werewolf.

  Though it took them almost 45 minutes, they arrived at Medical City Hospital, and Colton was a faint shade of red, having bellowed at other drivers three times in nearly an hour, a record for him and his temper. Lacey clicked the vehicle remote to set the alarm, and steeled herself to walk into the emergency room.

  “Let
’s find out if he’s still in the ER, or if they’ve moved him.” She spoke over her shoulder to Colton. “Dr. Matthews didn’t say anything about the vic being moved into a room yet.”

  “We can stop at the desk and ask.” Colton, with his awkward stride, was struggling to keep up with her.

  “That’s a good idea.” She approached the information desk, noticing an unfamiliar woman sitting there. She flashed her badge at the woman. “Dr. Matthews called,” she explained to the woman. “We had an assault victim come in yesterday. I’m not sure if he’s still back in the emergency room or if he’s been moved to a room.” She read off the man’s name from her tablet; though she had yet to interview the man, Lacey had taken the information from his vehicle registration.

  “John Pope?” The woman repeated. “Yes, he’s been moved to a regular room.” She gave them directions to the room on the 8th floor.

  “Thank you.” Colton gave her a small smile.

  While they rode the elevator in silence, Lacey watched her partner as he shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to another. “You seem to be awfully jittery today.” Her tone was mild, inviting a response but not demanding one.

  He glanced at his feet, and she knew he was about to reveal something he didn’t want to. “Well, I got the bill today on my truck. You know, how those stupid kids threw egg all over my paint job?”

  She nodded in understanding. “I can imagine it wasn’t cheap.”

  “Shit, I had to pay extra for the color!” He almost shouted it. “Just because it was an after-market color! Come on, it was ordered from the factory that way, but was a special order at the time.”

  Lacey could see his face turning bright red. “But, you drove it yesterday, didn’t you? Had it already been painted?” She wouldn’t admit that, in the process of breaking up the dog fighting ring, she hadn’t paid attention to his vehicle.

  “Yeah, it’s done. It’s not like I could damn well drive it around town like that. But fuck if I know where I’m going to come up with the debits for this!”

  “Maybe you can work something out with them, pay a little at a time.” She would have offered him the money, but knew that would embarrass him further.

  Before he could reply, the elevator door opened with a soft bing. She stepped out, grabbing her badge from her jacket pocket. Lacey walked right to the nurse’s station, and slapped her ID on the desk. “John Pope.” Her voice made it clear that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  A nurse in pale blue scrubs looked up from her computer. “Dr. Matthews said to expect you.” Her voice held a bit of a stutter. “He’d like to talk to you first.” She pointed down the hallway. “Last door on the right is our staff lounge. Let me page him and tell him you’re here. Then, you can talk there privately.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.” She jerked her head at Colton and he fell into step behind her with a mutter. “What? I didn’t hear you.”

  “I said, I hate hospitals.” His answer was terse.

  “I know the feeling.”

  In the staff lounge, they found a large round table with chairs situated around it. A bowl of fresh fruit sat in the center of the table, and there was a smell of stale coffee and over-done popcorn. The faucet in the double sink had a slow leak, and the sound of the drip in the quiet room was as loud as a roar. The door opened behind them, and Dr. Matthews stepped in.

  “Good to see you again,” he said to each of them. “I wanted to talk to you for a minute before you interview my patient. It seems to me that there’s been a sudden increase in the petty crimes in the city. And I mean, super petty. Like this poor soul, who was beaten so severely because he scratched the bumper of another guy’s car. Have you observed anything out of the ordinary recently? Cases like this which seem to have stupid causes?”

  Lacey glanced at her partner before answering. “Yes, I have. It’s been slowly getting worse over the last couple weeks. And the perp in this case? He wasn’t sorry in the least that he nearly killed another person. To me, that was extremely odd.”

  “My truck was egged.” Colton spoke up. “My place is in a real nice neighborhood, stuff like this just doesn’t happen there. At least, not until recently.”

  “Hmm, I was afraid of this.” Dr. Matthews sighed. “Have you considered that perhaps you need to look into a supernatural cause for these crimes?”

  “What is it you mean, doctor?” Lacey gestured to a seat while Colton walked to the coffee pot.

  “You want some of this?” He spoke to the doctor, who sat down at the table.

  “Black, thank you.” Dr. Matthews looked directly into Lacey’s eyes. “It may be that you’ll find out all these crimes are connected.” His voice was grim. “And that your suspect will be a Reaper.”

  6

  For here we are not afraid to follow truth wherever it may lead. ~~Thomas Jefferson

  Colton looked at his partner in amazement. She seemed speechless, so he asked the doctor, “How did you come to that conclusion, Dr. Matthews?”

  Dr. Matthews brought the steaming mug Colton handed him to his mouth and took a tentative sip. “Please, call me Niall; I hear ‘doctor’ all day long.” He sighed. “It’s the way these people are acting,” he said finally. “Let me give you a little background. I’ve been a Reaper for a long time. Also, I was there after the terrorist attack in New York on 9/11. Not only did I offer my medical expertise, but I had numerous writs for people who died in the disaster. Reapers were also called to extra duty during the 2015 earthquake and tsunami that killed so many people in Chile and Japan.” He paused to catch his breath and gulped at his coffee.

  “You’ve been present at numerous disasters, and I know that must be hard for you.” Lacey was using her expertise at interviewing to sympathize with the doctor. “But, forgive my ignorance, can you tell us about Reapers in general? We have to admit, we don’t know any personally.”

  She glanced over at Colton and he shook his head, indicating that he, too, did not know any Reapers.

  Niall gave a wry grin. “Do you guys have all day? It might take that long.”

  “Just the bare bones, for now.” Lacey leaned back in her chair.

  He took another swig from the cup in his hand. “I’m sure you’re aware, that Reapers are responsible for freeing the human soul when its life in the physical shell of the body has expired?” They both nodded, and Lacey smiled slightly, encouraging him to continue. “Once one is chosen as a Reaper, there is no going back. Once a Reaper, always a Reaper, my mentor used to say.”

  “Chosen?” Colton was confused. “Aren’t you all born as Reapers?”

  “No, not in the way I think you mean. Each potential Reaper is born a human. We’re picked by our predecessor, and undergo a period of training as an apprentice.”

  “How does a Reaper make the choice?” Lacey’s brows were furrowed as she seemed to struggle to understand.

  “Each potential Reaper is a human born with an hourglass birthmark somewhere on the body.” He hooked a finger in the collar of the drab green scrub shirt he wore, tugging the material aside enough for them to see the dark brown mark centered between his collarbones. “It is during this period our aging process begins to slow. Once our training is completed, we take over, and that gives our mentor the ability to move on to whatever plane of existence awaits us.”

  “And what is that?” Colton’s harsh voice made it sound like a demand, though that wasn’t how he intended it. Since he wasn’t truly Immortal, but especially long-lived, he often grappled with the thought of what might come after this life.

  “I don’t know.” Niall replied with a smile. “Since our trainers are still living when they teach us, there is no one who can give us that answer.”

  Colton opened his mouth, but Lacey raised a hand, and he deferred to his partner.

  “Why is it you suspect our unsub is a Reaper?”

  “A Reaper’s duty comes with an immense price.” Niall looked at his hands. “The power of the human soul is uni
maginable.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “It’s like trying to capture the sun. Or trying to contain a nuclear blast. Like matter and antimatter colliding. There is a heavy burden of responsibility, to use our power properly. That rush of energy can be incredibly addicting.”

  “Now I understand why the humans were so against granting Reapers Undead status.” Lacey nodded.

  “Well, I don’t.” Colton snarled in frustration.

  “Let me explain a little about how we harvest souls.” Niall rested his hands on the table. “Human souls exist on a different dimensional plane than the physical world. The only way we can interact with it on any level is through astral projection.”

  Colton scoffed. “Astral projection? You’re talking woo-woo crap.”

  “But it’s true. We astral project to the person we receive a writ for. And, before you ask, that’s during periods of time when we’re not needed in the physical world, such as when I’m here. It happens when we’re on our off time.” Niall gestured with his hands. “We gently pull the soul from the body at the heart chakra. Sometimes, it’s necessary to push some of our power into the body at the third eye chakra.” He demonstrated, one hand moving to his chest, the other to his forehead. “Once the soul is free from the body, we take our part and then encourage the soul to move on. But that part we take, though small, is still equivalent to the power of a nuclear bomb. That much power, in a person who has an addictive personality, could mean trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Lacey’s voice sounded startled.

  Niall sighed. “This is only a story, told to me by my trainer, so I have no idea if there’s truth behind it. But I heard once of a Reaper who began to collect souls, spirits that he had no writ for and, in fact, were not meant to die yet. The body can function, though not well, without the soul. Or so the story goes.”

  “I don’t have a soul, yet that is horribly disturbing.” Lacey leaned back in her chair and studied the Reaper. “But I have to admit, it fits the facts.”