Saved Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Stories that Get to the Point

by R. M. Walker

  I climb to my feet and smooth down my skirt. I spot my high heels beside Connor, and I slip into them as he rises. Methodically I put myself back together until I’m no longer stupidly vulnerable.

  “I’m fine, thanks. I’ve just had a busy day.”

  He runs a hand through his hair in a way that’s strangely endearing. “Yeah, I probably need to get back to my patients too.”

  Damn it, he looks amazing in his blue smocks.

  All the more reason to get as far from him as possible.

  I hurry for the door, but pause when I hear my name. I turn around, and he’s waiting, indecision written across his face. I know he wants to say something that I’d love to hear, but I can’t. It’d complicate my life too much.

  “See you around,” I say, intentionally projecting a vibe that I’m not interested.

  He freezes. “Uh, okay.”

  I slip out of the locker room and head down the hall. I hurry to the children’s ward and peek into the window. The boy is sitting up, eating, and talking to his parents. They’re smiling at him, and I see hope in their face.

  They won’t truly believe what they’re seeing until they do the MRI and see that the tumor is gone, but that’s okay. It isn’t important that they think I’m responsible for a miracle. All that matters is that he’ll live, and they have their child back.

  For a second I feel something… almost happy. Saving a few lives every now and then might not matter much when I take so many others, but it eases the sting in my chest… if only by a little.

  But the moment only last a moment, because now my shift is over, and I have to face the rest of my night.

  Going to my little office, I shut down my computer, and stare at the envelope on my desk. I already know it contains the keys to my new house, a house I haven’t even entered. I saw the photos online, decided it was close to the hospital and nice enough, and bought the thing with my Reaper money.

  Sitting in my chair, I pick up the envelope. I spent months in the whirlwind of learning what I was and fighting to get back to my old life. But now, somehow, taking a job and getting a house is a symbol that I’ve finally accepted that I am this Jules. I am a skinny woman with perfect clothes, perfect hair, and a simple life.

  I’m not Jules the mom with two beautiful children I adore. I’m not the wife to a man who loved to snuggle and watch movies at the end of a long night. I don’t live in a house with toys scattered on the floor, yogurt on the wall, a a mountain of dishes, and a pile of bills.

  Despite everything, I start to cry. I was drowning in that life, drowning trying to take care of a sick kid and still pay the bills. I was lonely, with my husband working long hours to provide for us. At best we had only a few minutes to talk after a long day.

  Now? I miss it. I miss it so much it hurts. I won’t ever get to see my kids grow up. I won’t see my daughter get married, or my son get his first car.

  I’m sobbing, fucking sobbing over that yellow envelope.

  Which is stupid. I already know I’ve lost it all. I’ve already cried too many times to count.

  Grabbing tissues off my desk, I blow my nose and dry my eyes. Then, I go and lock the door to my office, and I change into my dark workout clothes. Stuffing the envelope into my bag, I take a deep breath and become invisible. I walk out of the hospital and pull on the magic within me.

  When I open my eyes, I’m at the top of a building. The wind whips around me, tangling my long hair in a breeze. This city is colder than the one I was just in, but it’s also smaller, homier. It’s the perfect place to raise a family.

  My gaze moves to the apartment across the way from where I stand and I automatically seek out the familiar window.

  The man I called my husband is sitting at the dinner table with our kids. They’re laughing. The house is a mess. He’s lost more hair and gained more weight, and my kids have grown several inches taller, at least it seems as much.

  And I’m missing it all. Alone in the cold, looking into a life I can never return to, a life that no longer belongs to me.

  “Why do you do this to yourself?”

  I jerk and turn to Drake, my heart racing. “I didn’t go near them.”

  He nods. “You’ve kept to your word. Don’t worry. The boy remains healthy to live a long life.”

  I look back at my son, his messy brown hair, perpetually covered by a ball cap. If we were closer I would be able to see his dark brown eyes, and that grin of his that melts my heart.

  “I’m not here to reinforce our deal. I’m here because I’m worried about you. By the end of the program most Reapers have moved on from their other lives. I think it was a mistake that you refused to have your memory erased.”

  “It wasn’t,” I tell him with absolute certainty. “I’d rather miss them every moment of my life than forget them.”

  Because my memories are all I have of them now.

  He sighs. “I made the same choice.”

  Stiffening, I turn to him. Drake said very little throughout my training. While I was learning to fight and left the ring bruised and sore. While I watched, sobbing, being held back, as the instructors took lives of people in front of me, showing me how it was done. While I learned to make myself invisible, he simply stared on with dead eyes. It’s only been since he placed me at his hospital that I’ve learned new things about the leader of our clan of Reapers.

  “You actually remind me a lot of myself,” he tells me, surprising me yet again. “Most Reapers kill without thought—women, children, the beloved—but I was never like them. I was always… different. Not like you. I was always ruthless, but different.”

  I drag my gaze away from him and back to my family. Somehow, I don’t want to hear any of this. I don’t want there to be anything similar between me and this heartless beast. It only makes what I’ve become harder.

  “You’re the most beautiful Reaper I’ve ever created,” he continues, his gaze moves over me like a man assessing his accomplishments. “I knew that it would open doors to you that haven’t been opened to the others, and I was right. Men want you. Women want to be you. That fact, combined with your powers, will make you invincible.”

  Yay. My job is to kill people, but I can do it looking hot…

  “Why don’t you ever say what you’re thinking?” he asks.

  “Because most of what I’m thinking would probably get me killed,” I tell him honestly.

  He grabs my chin and jerks me to look at him. “Then let’s make something clear between you and I. I’ll never tolerate disrespect, but I do want honesty from you. Even if I don’t always like what you have to say. Understand?”

  I meet his gaze. “You want honesty? Fine. I hate being a Reaper.”

  He releases my chin, his expression unreadable. “Do you regret your choice?”

  “Never,” I answer without thinking. “I just hate being… this.”

  Silence stretches between us for a long moment, and briefly I wonder if he regrets becoming one of Death’s minions too, or if I’m the only Reaper who despises what I’ve become.

  “You know you’re a hero, right?”

  It takes a second for me to understand his question. I guess he feels the opposite than I do.

  I smirk. “Don’t I need a mask and a cape for that?”

  He answers without humor. “The day I met you, sobbing over your dying child, I gave you a choice—your life for his. Even though most people say they’d give their lives for another person, you actually did it, without hesitation. You were given only moments to see him better, and then you did just as I instructed. You stepped out into that street, and let that truck crush you. I’d say that makes you a hero.”

  I didn’t want to hear him, didn’t want to relive that moment. I turned back to the family I used to have.

  My kids are throwing food at each other. My husband’s getting frustrated. I can see the familiar fire in his eyes.

  I smile. Not much has changed.

  But then my husband’s head tu
rns toward the door. He gets up, walks over, and lets a woman in. My smile falls as they hug. I lean forward and notice for the first time that he’s not wearing his ring.

  My mind scrambles. How long have I been dead in human years? My training felt like months, but in reality, it’s been two years.

  They’re moving on.

  My heart aches. Of course they are. And they deserve to.

  “You can’t keep coming back here.” Drake said the words with a breath of finality.

  “I—“

  “If you do, I might have to intervene.”

  My heart races. What does that mean? I have a feeling I don’t want to know.

  “Move on with your life, Jules. That’s a command.”

  I turn back to respond, but he’s gone.

  I linger for one more minute, tears flowing down my cheeks. I hate Drake for this. I hate him for everything except healing my child, but I also know this isn’t healthy. My family’s moved on. It’s time I did the same.

  I reach out as if I can touch them, but I know deep in my heart, they’re lost to me forever. Goodbye, my loves.

  3

  Jules

  In the blink of an eye, I’m in my car in the hospital parking lot. Still feeling numb, I turn the engine of my convertible on and speed down the street, looking for my new house. The numbers and street signs blur together before Neverland Ave. comes into focus.

  What a stupid name for a street.

  I find my new home not far from the hospital, just a few blocks, in a rundown neighborhood. Parking outside of it, I stare at the tall three story building that’s been newly painted, standing out from the dark and decrepit buildings next to it. It’s squished between equally tall buildings, sharing walls with both of its neighbors.

  I wanted someplace close to the hospital, but quiet and private. I wonder if I made a mistake.

  Getting out of my car, I pull the keys from the envelope.

  Welcome home.

  “Jules?”

  I turn around at the sound of my name and freeze. I thought I recognized that voice. Ajax Cronus is standing on the street near me, looking confused.

  It’s odd for me to see the youngest member on the hospital board away from the hospital. He’s wearing washed out jeans and a simple grey T-shirt, not the suit and tie that associates him with power and prestige. For the first time I see the tattoos that curl up his arms in complicated designs, and I’m shocked! Mr. Clean Cut is gone, and I get the feeling I’m seeing the real Ajax for the first time… and the real Ajax looks dangerous and strangely compelling.

  I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Mr. Meyers, what are you doing here?”

  He moves closer, his gaze running slowly over my face. “I’ve told you before. Call me Ajax.”

  This close to him I’m reminded yet again about what a massive man he is. He towers over everyone around him like a football player. His presence is just as overwhelming, commanding in a way I’ve never experienced before.

  “I’ll stick to Mr. Meyers, thank you.” I hate the way that my voice comes out sounding prim and proper like a teacher.

  He raises a brow.

  I play with my keys, uneasily. “Well, uh, I better get going.”

  Starting up the steps, his voice makes me pause. “Where are you going?”

  I look back at him. “My new home,” I point to the dark building.

  Both his brows rise this time. “I guess we’re neighbors then.”

  I swear my heart stops. “Neighbors?”

  He points to the building next to mine, the one at the end of our little street.

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  “Uh, wow. Okay. Well. Goodnight.”

  “What are your plans?” he asks, sounding relaxed.

  “Unpacking, probably, I tell him.”

  It’s a lie. The people who serve the Reapers take care of everything. I have no doubt they’ve already taken my luggage from the hotel, where I’ve lived since moving here, and unpacked it. I probably already have a closet full of clothes tailored to my size, and the house has probably been decorated with everything they feel this new personality would like.

  It’s all… kind of depressing. I stepped into a readymade life when I wasn’t ready to leave my old one.

  “Why don’t you come have a drink with me instead?” His gaze sweeps over me in a way that makes his attraction to me all too clear.

  It isn’t hard for me to shake my head. “Sorry.”

  I start back up the handful of steep steps leading up to the big door.

  “Maybe another time?” he asks.

  “Maybe,” I say, and even I can hear the no hidden behind my answer.

  Unlocking the door, I step into the darkness and close the door behind me. I stare out the little window and watch him walk away, a handsome man with everything to offer a woman. But I still can’t move on.

  Turning on the lights, I look around the spacious house. All of it is just as the pictures showed: neat, clean, and with just the right amount of character. The house was classically built but has been remodeled to have a modern, clean twist.

  The simple white walls let the architecture show through. The living room has a fireplace and a staircase on the right leads upstairs.

  I move to my left, through the arched doorway and see the table, perfectly set. I walk through the small dining room, with its large draped windows facing the street, and into the newly remodeled kitchen.

  I move through the other side of the kitchen and look out into the tiny backyard, with the pool that overwhelms the space. Back through the living room and up the stairs leads me to the floor with a tiny bedroom, an office, and a beautiful master bedroom.

  I feel numb as I take it all in. This house and everything in it was expensive. As I expected, even my closet is filled with quality clothes tailored to my new body. I look at all of the things purchased on my behalf with my new money and I feel nothing.

  Sitting on the bed, I reach into my bag and pull out the one thing I kept from my old life. Right now, it’s the only thing that feels real. I stole my son’s tiny teddy bear from my casket before it was buried. It’s still stained in my blood, found not far from my crushed body on the scene of the accident.

  Swallowing hard, I open the drawer beside my bed and hide it inside.

  I find a bag near my door, something forgotten by the Reapers’ servants, filled with trash. I’m glad for it. I need an excuse to leave this room, to clear my head.

  Trash in hand, I head to the alley behind the house. The sun has set. The street lights look too bright, and the dumpster and alley have a gloomy air about them as darkness encroaches. I toss the bag in the dumpster and turn to head back when I hear the sounds of people talking not far down the alley.

  The hair on my arms stands on end. I should walk away. Something about those voices means danger. Then I remember that the most dangerous thing in this world now is me.

  I make my way through the alley, darker now, but I freeze when I turn the corner. Connor and Brad are surrounded by what I think are six men, but then I realize they’re vampires, stupid enough to have their fangs out in public.

  During my training I learned all about different supernatural beings, and the universal truth was that when the Reapers come, all of them react the same. They beg for their lives.

  “That was a very stupid thing you did,” the biggest vampire says, circling Brad. “And now, you’re going to pay for it.”

  “You sure you want to take a beating so early in the night?” Brad asks, surprisingly fearless.

  My heart clenches. Does Brad not see the fangs and realize what he faces?

  The vampire hisses. “Such a cocky asshole.”

  Connor chimes in, grinning. “For a guy who isn’t scared of us, you certainly brought a lot of backup.”

  “Shut up, puppy!” he snarls.

  Everything happens at once. The vampires leap. Connor and Brad are quick, fighting like hell, but there’s
no way two humans are going to last long against these odds.

  Fuck.

  “Leave them alone!” I shout.

  Everyone turns at once and Connor’s jaw drops. “Jules?”

  I start toward them. “I said get away from them.”

  The smallest vampire snatches me by the throat and slams me against the wall. A normal woman would have cracked a couple ribs, but I’m only out of breath for half a second.

  “You don’t want to do this,” I tell him.

  His hands start to squeeze around my throat.

  “Jules!” Brad shouts, sounding panicked.

  I move my hand to the arm of the vampire and snatch his life away. This is no gentle reaping, like I do with my patients, but a brutal snatching that I know will hurt.

  He crumples to the ground. Connor and Brad fight like madmen, but I barely glance in their direction. The blond vampire, a lean and dangerous machine, kicks Connor and forces him to the ground. The vampire looms over him, and I know things are about to get messy.

  I come up behind him and touch my hand to the back of his neck, snatching his life away. He drops. Connor’s already rolled to his feet to punch another vampire, who goes flying back.

  Really far back.

  That’s weird.

  Brad hits a vampire, unexpectedly holding his own. Another one punches him in the stomach, and a third leaps onto his back. Brad starts to struggle, trying to get the bastard off of him.

  Damn it. They’ve probably already broken his bones. They’re going to kill him!

  I walk up to them and touch the vampire on Brad’s back. The creature slides limply down in a heap.

  Adrenaline is pumping through me and the rush that comes with taking lives. These were not sickly, dying men. These were strong semi-immortals, and their lives warm my entire insides. I feel amazing, alive in a way I haven’t since my death.

  The fighting continues. Connor’s bleeding from the face. A vampire kicks him in the chest and I hear his ribs break.

  I tap the vampire on the back. He whirls around and would have punched me, but I catch his wrist before the blow lands. My gaze is locked onto his when the life leaves him. His eyes go dull and he crumples to the ground.