Souls of the Reaper

by Markie Madden

  “This is Lieutenant Anderson, from the Dallas Police Department. I believe Dr. Ingold is expecting my call.”

  “One moment, Lieutenant.” This time, there was no music, only a soft beep at regular intervals to let the caller know they were still on hold and the line remained active. While she waited, Lacey tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and tugged the stylus out of her tablet, so she was ready should she need to take notes. A few minutes passed before the line clicked again.

  “Dr. Ingold.” The voice that greeted her was deep and rich.

  “Doctor, this is Lieutenant Anderson with the Dallas police.” She introduced herself again. “I apologize for calling without an appointment.”

  “No need, Lieutenant. Marcell told me you’d be calling.”

  “That was efficient.”

  The man laughed. “Marcell is decidedly efficient.”

  You have no idea. Aloud, she said, “Did he brief you as well, or do I need to bring you up to speed?” She wasn’t sure if she had completely hidden her sarcasm.

  “If you’re calling me, it must mean that you require my expertise in Immortal psychology.”

  “Of course.” Briefly, Lacey outlined what she had learned from Niall and Marcell, as well as what little she knew about Reapers. She concluded with, “Dr. Dilorenzo said you were among the first to study Reapers, and thought you might be able to help.”

  “What you’re proposing is intriguing, to say the least.”

  “Is it possible?”

  “For a Reaper to take souls before the body’s death?” He asked. “Oh, absolutely, yes. You see, the Reaper doesn’t cause the death of the physical body, as some legends would lead you to believe. No, they’re just the guides. They’re actually what we call psychopomps.”

  “The ‘guide of souls’,” she murmured.

  “Yes, that’s what the Greeks have called them. Most people wouldn’t know that, though. Have you studied Greek mythology, Lieutenant?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I was born in Greece in the 17th century.”

  “Ah, so you’re another Immortal. Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Before he could ask the question, she said into the silence, “I’m a Vampire.”

  “Then I’m doubly pleased. I’m not quite your age, but I grew up in Switzerland several hundred years ago.”

  Lacey didn’t know what she was expected to say, he’s not quite my age?, so she used her own knowledge of psychology, stayed silent, and hoped that he would talk to fill the silence.

  He did. “So, Reaper lore, above all other, has been found in every culture in the known world, from ancient times all the way to the present day. As you would expect, since Death comes to all humans in the end, they have devoted immense amounts of time on the subject.” She could almost hear the capital D in the way he said ‘death’. “From ‘what comes next’ questions to ways to avoid having their souls Reaped, there are stories and legend as far back as the written word.”

  “Why would humans want to avoid death?” She wondered aloud. “I mean, they seem terrified of us on one hand, but they want to become Immortal themselves?”

  “Yes, you’ve touched upon the quandary of what it is to be human. They’re a most contrary lot, aren’t they?” She chuckled. “So, the psychopomp is a god, spirit, or demon responsible for guiding the spirits of the dead to the underworld, and there are many examples of these throughout history.” Lacey decided the man must enjoy lecturing, for his eagerness to educate her could clearly be heard in his tone. “Some that you might be familiar with are the Valkyries, Hermes, Thanatos, and Anubis in Egypt. Even Native American cultures have the Spirit Horse that comes for the soul at death.”

  “So, do most cultures paint Reapers as being evil? I know they often work in health care, so that doesn’t quite make sense.”

  “No, not necessarily. As you know, in Greek mythology Death was often depicted as being a vital, young, and friendly man. But your people are some of the very few among humans who didn’t have an inherent fear of death.”

  “It was a long time ago, and I don’t remember a lot about Greek customs or mythology. What I do remember was that I was afraid to die, but I was more afraid to go on living as I was.” In a few sentences, she told him about how she came to be, something that was still difficult for her. It was another thing that Marcell told her would help her on the path of healing her mental scars. “Can you tell me anything about how Reapers originated?”

  “Even the Reapers themselves don’t know for sure. But their own lore suggests that, though they existed from the time the first humans walked on this planet, they still weren’t evolved as you know them today. It wasn’t until the first incidence of the Black Plague in Europe that the population of Reapers exploded. You can imagine the situation, with hundreds or even thousands of people in a single village or city dying day by day, there would have been far more writs to collect than there were existing Reapers. As you know them now, the species actually developed out of those who survived the first plague.”

  “So, what, it’s possible that the survivor’s DNA was fundamentally changed, allowing them to have the potential to become Immortal?” She realized that she had been taking notes as they talked.

  “It’s quite likely, though I don’t think we’ll ever prove it. So, each potential Reaper is born with a birthmark, and it’s through this that they are identified as possible apprentices.”

  “Yes, Dr. Dilorenzo mentioned that the mentor should do extensive checking on anyone they feel might replace them. And Dr. Matthews, who is a Reaper, said the power transferred during a harvest is like the sun, and could be addicting.”

  “He’s probably right. It sounds as if he would be another good source for you, if he’s so willing to share information. I’m not aware if there’s anything to the story he told you about a Reaper gone bad, but I have contacts all over the world, and I’ll be more than happy to send out some messages. If what you theorize is true, it would be most interesting to study him or her.”

  “If it is possible for a Reaper to be stealing souls, what happens to his victims? If we catch him, is there any way for them to get their spirits back?”

  “That is unknown at this point,” the psychologist replied. “But I’d very much like to know the answer to your question.”

  8

  He who commits injustice is ever made more wretched than he who suffers it. ~~Plato

  The soft sound of her voice drifted in and out of his awareness. She had a beautiful way of speaking, with the perfect inflection of one to whom English was a secondary language. Xiong often heard humans use the phrase, ‘I could listen to him reading a phone book.’ Though he wasn’t sure what a phone book was, he understood the intent. Ling had such a voice, one that attracted attention in general, and caused an instant and painful arousal in him each time she spoke.

  Xiong was enduring yet another lesson from his mentor. The frustration, so obvious to him, seemed to be lost on Ling, as she started talking about the ethics of her position, soon to be his position. He had been her apprentice for six months now, and he had yet to Reap his first human soul. He wanted nothing more than to get on with it already, and here she was, giving him a lecture. Again.

  “This is a heavy responsibility that falls upon a Reaper,” she was saying in her clear tones. “It is our duty to guide the human soul through the perilous journey between life and the underworld. The humans are often fearful and resistant to the release.”

  “Why?” Since he stopped being human, half a year ago, he had forgotten most of his mortal life.

  “Everyone says there’s an easy answer for that,” she told him. “Many of them feel they aren’t ready, as if they still have business to finish. Most don’t want to leave their loved ones behind.” Ling leaned back in her chair, crossing one long and shapely leg. His eyes traveled the length of it, coming to rest at the slender ankle that bobbed up and down as if to unheard music. “But I think it’s becaus
e the underworld is an unknown to them, and humans have always feared what they don’t understand.”

  “Well, why is it so important that they’re escorted to the next plane? Why should we care, I mean? It’s not like they’re Immortals.”

  “Humans are important here. They have their place in the cycle of life, and are just as connected as anything else living on this planet. Everything that we do is to preserve the balance of the Universe. I assume you’ve heard ghost stories at one time or another?”

  He sneered. “Stories told to frighten children.”

  “They’re not always make-believe.” She chided him. “There have been cases in the past where a soul has escaped its Reaper, and that makes it difficult to recover. The spirit can become stuck here for quite a while before one of us can find it. The longer that a person is in this plane, the more resistant it will be to crossing over.”

  Xiong watched her foot sway up and down, up and down. “How come there’s not more of us, then? That way, we wouldn’t lose anyone.”

  “The number of Reapers on the Earth at any given time is proportionate to the number of humans.”

  “Who makes that rule? Death?”

  She laughed. “No, not Death. It’s a fundamental law of the Universe, just as the theory of relativity. It’s always been that way. There are more of us now than ever before because there are more humans.”

  “A plague upon this Earth, is what they are.” His voice clearly transmitted his disdain for them.

  “It is their plane of existence, to do with as they will. Without them, we wouldn’t be. Always remember that.”

  He didn’t know if he believed her, but the sound of her voice would forever echo through his psyche...

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  Lacey finished briefing her partner, sharing the information she learned from Dr. Ingold. They were comparing what she was told to what Colton found in his search on the internet. Lacey was more inclined to believe what the psychologist had told her, while Colton wasn’t convinced of the expert’s expertise. What started out as a friendly banter suddenly began to evolve into a problem, with Lacey growing increasingly quieter to her partner’s increasing volume. Finally, she was fed up.

  “Okay, that’s enough.” The chill in her voice cooled the room by several degrees. “We could go around and around with this. For now, let’s agree to disagree. Much of what you gathered online is similar to what Dr. Ingold told me, so that gives us a place to start, at least. Put all of your notes and mine into the book, and then run a search on both to generate a list of the same or similar stories. We can start there.”

  “Sure, whatever you say.” He grabbed his tablet off her desk and stalked out of the office. She counted herself lucky that he didn’t slam the door. Lacey took a deep breath, tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and counted to ten. In Greek. Though her rational mind was fully aware Colton wouldn’t harm her, confrontation with him still sent icy fingers of fear down her spine. She made a mental note to speak to Marcell about it during their next session. Which reminded her of their dinner date the next day, and the fact that she needed to stop at the pet store tonight, to get the things she needed for her new dog.

  Knowing there was no other pressing business for the day, Lacey decided to take off an hour early. She shut down her laptop and gathered her shoulder bag and keys. Stepping out into the bullpen, she noticed Colton wasn’t at his desk. Probably getting a coffee refill, she thought. Though it’s no wonder he’s wound so tight, with all the caffeine he consumes on a daily basis! She found her partner in the break room.

  “Hey, I’m taking an hour of personal time. You haven’t found much else?”

  “Not yet.” He stirred his coffee with a plastic straw.

  “Okay. Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you get anything interesting.”

  “Sure will.”

  By the time she arrived at her home, Lacey had the large trunk of her car filled with pet care items. Not knowing exactly what she would need for her dog, she picked up one of everything. Or two. When she pulled into the drive, she noticed the contractor truck from the hardware store. Though she wasn’t expecting them to get to the fencing today, she was pleased that they did. She parked in the garage, leaving the large door open, and began unloading the car.

  One of the men approached her. It was Todd, the team leader for the crew that normally came to her house.

  “Hi there, Miz Anderson.” His voice was the drawl of pure Texas. “Give you a hand there?”

  Though she didn’t exactly need the help, she acquiesced. “Thanks.” The man hefted a fifty-pound bag of dog food like it weighed no more than a pillow. She grabbed several of the plastic bags and gestured for Todd to follow her.

  “I didn’t know you had a dog,” he said.

  “Well, I don’t, yet. You see, I’m adopting one. He was a seizure in a dog fighting case.”

  “Ah, now I understand.” He pointed at her back doors, a set of white French doors with etched glass at the top. “Our instructions were to get that installed, first thing.”

  She was pleased to see the dog door carefully set into the left hand door, the one she often left closed, using the right side when she went into the backyard. “That’s perfect!” She exclaimed, surprised. “I didn’t think to mention it, but I wanted the dog door on that side instead of the other.”

  “Shucks, ma’am, we install lots of these things. Many of our customers with nice French doors like that don’t want them on the side that swings open the most.”

  Through the glass, she could see men hard at work in the backyard. One man was using an auger to dig post holes, while others were mixing concrete and setting metal poles in place. “You guys are quick, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow at the earliest.” She walked back toward the car.

  “We didn’t have anything else going on this afternoon.” He reached into the trunk for more bags. “So Tom sent us on over. We probably don’t have enough daylight to get the whole thing finished today, so we’ll be back in the morning.”

  “That’s something else I need to ask. Will the dog set off the motion lights if he goes in and out?”

  “Probably.” Todd set several bags down on the kitchen counter. “See I’m not a dog person, but my son and daughter-in-law have several. They had to reduce the sensitivity of their motion lights, and they still go off every now and again, when the dogs cross over in the right place. But if I remember right, yours is wired to a switch, isn’t it? Not directly into power?”

  “Yes, you’re right. I’d forgotten about that.”

  “So, you can always turn it off at the switch if it becomes a problem. Though, I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

  “Why is that?”

  “What kind of dog is it, ma’am?”

  “Um, actually, I’m sort of not sure. He’s big, and striped.” Todd guffawed. “Wait a minute.” She tugged her phone from her pocket and pulled up one of the crime scene photos of Morgan and his opponent in the dog fighting pit. She showed it to him.

  “Oh yeah, he’s big and mean-looking, even if he might be sweet. You want my opinion, I say let the motion light come on when he’s out, at least anyone looking to case your place will be a little spooked, knowing a dog who looks like that is around.”

  Her lips curved upward. “Of course, you’re so right! I didn’t think of that.”

  With the last of the pet store bags piled on her counter, Todd looked at her and said, “I’m guessing that’s going to be one spoiled rotten dog.”

  “He deserves it, don’t you think?”

  “Whole-heartedly, Miz Anderson. You’re doing a good thing.”

  “Thanks.”

  With that, he returned to the backyard where his crew was still hard at work. Lacey spent the next several minutes putting away the dog food, treats, and vitamins she bought, and laying some of the rest of the things out on the dining room table serving as a catch-all, since she rarely used it. She now had a collar and harness, a lea
sh, a pile of various dog toys, a large, plush bed, even shampoo and coat conditioner. Laughing at herself, she asked the room in general, “Now, what on Earth do I do with all this stuff?”

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  The voices in his head would not shut up! There was nothing he could do to tune out the sound, no music loud enough to quiet the roar reverberating around his skull. At first, Xiong thought he needed to feed again, but the last soul he consumed didn’t still the thunder. The cacophony inside made him feel jittery and bumbling, something that was unacceptable if he wanted to keep Reaping souls. His hands must remain steady in order to coax the unwilling spirits free from their human confinement. And through it all, the voices kept screaming.

  “Leave us alone.”

  “Please, let us go.”

  “We’re not ready.”

  “Don’t make us go!”

  “LEAVE US ALONE!”

  He slapped his hands over his ears and howled in frustration. Angrily, he switched the music on, finding the loudest, hardest rock he could find, heavy on the bass. The beat thrummed, and he could feel his insides vibrate with its intensity. Eventually, his mind calmed, until Xiong could hear only Ling’s voice.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  “It is a great responsibility you will take on, and I must know you are ready for it. Your status cannot be raised until you prove that you are worthy.”

  “What can I say to make you see I am ready? How can I prove myself, my love?”

  She sighed. “You can’t tell me you’re ready, you have to show you’re ready, Xiong. You must show that you can handle the burden, and manage the power.”

  His frustration mounted. “But you won’t show me HOW to control it!”

  “You know I can’t show you how.” She said something similar many times. “It’s something that you must learn, as the way to control it is different for each of us.”

  “How?” He blurted, angry.