The Death and Romancing of Marley Craw

by Brindi Quinn

  “I can feel you too,” I say, suddenly comforted – like even though the ground is far, far below, and even though falling would ensure I’d end up as splatter, I know that whoever this Captain Reaper person is, he’ll hold me tight.

  “When I went back, I remembered you, Marley.” He nuzzles his forehead against my skin. “We aren’t supposed to remember our reapings. I remembered you, though. Try to remember me, too, okay?” The Captain leans around the side of my head and kisses me on the cheek. It’s warm where he touches, and the warmth spreads, filling me up with a rushing sensation.

  Without fully knowing what I’m doing and why I’m doing it, my face turns to meet his. My lips meet his.

  His mouth is full and soft and warm.

  His kiss is controlled and slow and classic.

  His taste is familiar. It makes my stomach turn into a circus troupe, leaping here and there, cartwheeling, and jumping through flaming hoops; and as he moves his lips with mine, I feel a stronger, deeper warmth from him, full of intention and . . . desire.

  He’s savoring me. Kissing me like he might never kiss me again. I feel it, and my heart pounds in response. My neck heats in response. My veins writhe in covetous response.

  Yowsa.

  This guy kissing me . . . I think I really like him a lot.

  “Pine.”

  I open my lashes and I recognize him. One of his eyes is covered by a black chunk of hair, but his uncovered eye lights silver at my mention of his name.

  “You’re Pine!” I gasp.

  Relief, too strong to explain, pours over me. It’s like the feeling after passing a crazy-hard, full-of-trick-questions math test . . . only a million times more intense. “Oh geez! I can’t believe I forgot about you!” Under my breath, I add, “Then again, you totally up and left me right after I confessed my LIKE for you! How cruel! I mean, don’t you know girls always think the worst when the guy they like takes off without–”

  Pine presses his lips to mine. “Shh. We don’t have very long,” he says. He scrunches me to himself and I fall prey.

  “Uh-huh, sure, anything you say, Captain,” I mutter, captivated.

  “Good. Here we go.”

  With nothing more than that, Pine tightens his hold on me and then tips both of our bodies over the edge of the track.

  “KYAAAAAAAH”

  By the time I realize what’s happening, it’s too late to do a damn thing about it. We’re one sinking unit, SO about to become splatter. I know a lot about splatter, actually, and splatter isn’t relative. Splatter is splatter.

  This one summer, Carmen and I collected a whole load of vegetables, eggs, and one old computer monitor we stole from the dumpster, and then dropped them off of the roof of the school to see which would make the best splatter. My favorite was the computer. It looked like a robot had committed suicide.

  Down through the air we rush, as I attempt to distract myself, all the while screaming like there’s no tomorrow, because in fact, there probably isn’t a tomorrow. Meanwhile, inside my head, I hear laughter – Pine’s laughter.

  Lovely. Really glad my complete terror amuses you, Pine.

  “Stop spazzing and enjoy it,” his voice in my head commands.

  Enjoy it?

  You mean this crazy, to-my-death rush?

  The feeling of my stomach hating me for what I’m putting it through?

  The feeling of certain death?

  Well, it IS kind of fun, I guess. No, it’s more than that. It’s WAY fun.

  Before I know it, I’m laughing too, in the midst of my screams. I cling to Pine as the wind rushes by and the amusement park scene gets closer and closer.

  I wait for the splat to come, but it doesn’t.

  Like catching a gust, our fall slows, slower and slower, until we’re both drifting down listlessly. Eventually, Pine’s feet meet the pavement, and he releases me gently onto the ground. All around, the buzz and whirl of the amusement park fill the air. Shadowy silhouettes walk past, and I can very distantly hear their talking and laughing.

  It’s just like when I was leaving the aquarium with Minx.

  I stare at them, wide-mouthed. “Those are people?”

  Pine’s uncovered eye slips to me. He gives one solemn nod.

  “I thought I couldn’t see people.”

  “You aren’t supposed to,” he says, taking my hand. “Try not to think about them. Come on.” With a tug, he pulls me through a row of games that have over-stuffed animals wearing creepy grins as prizes. Yeah, like I’d want one of those to cuddle with in the midnight hour. No thanks.

  “We have to hurry,” Pine says as he pulls me. “Your desires are being judged right now. I only have a small amount of time to undo what he did.”

  What he did.

  Minx, the former ghost, with a taste for my screaming soul.

  I’d forgotten, in lieu of Pine’s return, but now it comes back to me, the sad truth of my life and death.

  “I had wretched life,” I admit to Pine.

  “You didn’t,” he replies.

  “I DID. I saw it.”

  He shakes his head. “You only saw what HE wanted you to see. All lives have downs, Marley. I’ve never reaped a soul that didn’t have regrets. Your life had downs, too. More of them than is standard, but you were happy when you died. It said so in your file.”

  My file.

  The game.

  Their job.

  That’s right. Despite my like for Pine, to him, this is all a job. He’s a captain, and an Usher, whatever that is, and it’s his job to seduce me. I pull my hand away from him.

  “At least Minx was honest with me. You just straight up left without any explanation. And now you’re just back out of nowhere? Why are you here? Why do you even care what happens to me? This is your job, right? It’s your job to seduce me so that I’ll want you more than him, isn’t it? What I don’t understand is that the minute I realized I liked you, you disappeared. I basically told you that you’d won, but instead of reaping me, you left. What gives?”

  Distrust sets in quick as a bullet. I’m worried he’s going to leave again. Somewhere along the way, I became stuck on him, indefinitely, unexplainably, and whole other slew of long words.

  Pine swallows uneasily. “I’ll tell you everything, but we’ve got to hurry.” He takes my hand again and yanks me to an abandoned picnic table. “Sit,” he orders.

  Aye-aye, Captain.

  I plop onto the hard bench. It’s one of those plastic-coated ones. The kind with little holes that your jeans squish through.

  Still uncomfortable, even in death.

  Pine settles down next to me, leaning his back against the table part. Tall and lean, his shadow stretches along the ground.

  “You’re right, Marley,” he says, brushing the hair from his eye. “It is our job to make you desire us. Not everyone ends up with two reapers. Some people only get one. Those are the people whose fates are determined before they die. But you had a tragic life and death, Marley. You were a tricky case. Your desires weren’t clear, so you were assigned both of us.”

  “My desires,” I repeat.

  Pine nods. “The red-eyed dumbass is what we call a Sleeper. He’s supposed to represent eternal rest. If he’s what you desire most, your soul will end, and you’ll rest forever. At least, that’s what’s supposed to happen. He’s an exception. He wasn’t always a reaper.”

  “He used to be a ghost,” I say.

  A second time, Pine nods. “He was recruited because of his strong ability to affect humans, both living and dead. He’s new, as far as reapers go, so he isn’t all the way tame yet. Why they even assigned him to a case like yours is beyond me. His role is as a Sleeper, but he holds another power – the power to attach spirits to the earth. If a spirit grieves and grows too attached to life, they’ll turn.”

  Into a ghost. I hug my knees to myself. The soothing reaper admitted early on that he was dangerous. He told me he liked the loudness of my screaming soul. He drew the tear
s out of me and relished in them. He liked the fact that I’d had a wretched life. He sympathized with it.

  “And what do you represent, Pine? That body snatcher, Zae, said both you and he are Ushers.”

  Pine rolls his eyes. “Body snatcher?”

  I feel my eyebrows flatten with disdain. “Stay on topic.”

  Pine takes in a breath through his nose. He releases it and chews his lip, and then inhales again. Whatever he’s about to say, it isn’t easy for him. “Sorry.” He hides his face in his hand. “I’ve never talked about this with a spirit before. It feels wrong.”

  “Tell me,” I demand.

  Giving a determined nod, Pine stares at the ground. “As an Usher, I have the ability to usher your soul to the afterlife.”

  “You mean to Heaven and Hell?” I ask.

  Pine shrugs. “Wherever ‘up there’ deems appropriate.”

  Okay. Let me get this straight:

  Minx has the ability to make my soul rest forever, while Pine has the power to usher me to the afterlife. So it really is a job, after all. Boo. I mean, I already knew that, but hearing him admit it is . . . hard.

  “What’s in it for you?” I ask, trying to cover my disappointment.

  Pine squirms uncomfortably. “When we reap souls, we taste them. They move through us, and it’s . . . pleasurable.”

  Uhhh.

  “Tch.” Pine rubs the back of his head with coy embarrassment. “Give me a break.”

  I don’t like it. Not one little bit. I was right, back then, when I compared it to Amy Jo dating Noah. There isn’t any realness behind it. It’s a game, through and through.

  And if that’s the case, I was stupid to admit my like for Pine.

  Suddenly, I feel even more gooberly than usual. I feel like the biggest, gooberiest goober that ever lived.

  “You don’t actually feel anything for me,” I say. “I knew it all along. It’s all fake. You guys were designed to make me pick where I’d end up. That’s why you’re so convincing when you . . .”

  Kiss me. Touch me. Hold me.

  And just like that, I start to slip into despair. I’ve never been one of those emo girls. Looking back, I probably could have been. Instead, I always chose to combat my problems with sarcasm and disobedience.

  But in this moment, I feel emo.

  I feel like I should wear dark eyeliner and write sad poetry.

  Under the waning moon, Pine is a raven plucking out my eyes to keep me from seeing him. Now, all I see is darkness. Oblivion fills me. My heart is a betrayer, bleeding black tears. It tears from within like a–

  “Stop.” Pine lightly punches my arm. “Your poetry’s no good.”

  I stick out my bottom lip.

  “Besides–” He shakes his head. “You’re wrong. Reapers are born with a desire for the human soul. My desire for your soul is just as real as if I were a human man desiring a human woman.”

  Ah. I get it.

  He desires my soul.

  Not me.

  Expression serious, he leans in toward me, casting his shadow on my face. “Are you afraid of me, Marley?”

  “A little.”

  I am?! That’s definitely not true! Then again, it must be. I’ve just admitted it without thinking.

  “Death loves life, even if life fears death. You’re designed to move towards, and at the same time, fear me, as I’m made to crave you.”

  “You crave my soul because you crave life?” I say, putting everything together. “But I’m dead now.”

  “Yes, but you lived, and your soul emanates life – yours even stronger than most. It’s something I’ll never have, and that’s why I crave it so badly.”

  My chest pangs with a small dose of hurt.

  “It’s all a little cruel, isn’t it?” I tell him. “You making me fall for you, just so you can taste my soul?”

  “Fall for me?” Pine chews his lip out of what looks like contemplation. “There it is again. You’re unusual, Marley.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Pine takes my hand in his again, wraps his fingers through mine, and caresses me with his thumb, all the while watching our entwined hands intently. He swallows and his adam’s apple bobs. “You shouldn’t have ‘fallen for me.’ You shouldn’t ‘like’ me. You should desire me. You should like the feeling of me taking you away, but you shouldn’t like ME.”

  “But I do,” I say in a small voice.

  Ack! It’s lame to say aloud, but I feel like I have no other choice. I feel like I need to make him understand. I go on,

  “I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s you that I like. I like the way you hate patterns. It’s weird, but I like it and it makes me want to know what else makes you twinge. And I like the face you get when you’re worried – like how even when you pretend to be okay with something, you’re so clearly not. You’re easy to read. Like an open magazine, and it’s cute, because at first glance, you seem so mysterious.” Oh boy. It’s all coming out now. “I like talking to you. I felt a rush when you were ‘taking me away’ and everything, but I had more fun when we were just talking on the beach. It made me want to spend more time with you. I wanted to take you to meet my friends . . . even though I’m technically dead. I wanted to hang out with you. That sort of thing. But then, that’s how this setup is designed to make me feel, right?”

  “Wrong.” Pine hops to his feet. “That isn’t how it works, Marley.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares off into the distance, if only as an excuse not to meet my gaze. “But the reason I left is . . . because . . .” He swallows again. “I was starting to feel that way too.”

  His confession hits me squarely in the chest, and in the aftermath, I feel like I’ve just been run over.

  Now I know how turtles feel.

  “Normally, spirits shift. The reaping is meant to be a blur of cerebral experience, but you stayed conscious for it. For me, it was like spending time with another reaper, but one who radiated with life. Even now it’s like that. You ask questions no spirit has ever asked, and you notice me – my moods and expressions – not just my power. Then there’s this–” In a flash, he takes me by the collar and pulls me to his chest. “When we touch, I feel it. Usually, spirits are wispy, nothing more than energy. We show them what they need to see in order to influence them. But you’re different, Marley. At some point, you started to feel solid.” He brushes his face over the top of my head. “At some point, you started to feel good.”

  I feel good? My cheeks heat because I don’t feel sure of myself at all. I’m nervous.

  Come on, Marley Craw. Keep your head. The hottie reaper just told you that you feel good.

  But if anyone feels good, HE feels good. THIS feels good.

  I grip his back. “I think I really like you a lot,” I whisper into his shirt.

  “I think I like you a lot too,” he says. A warm elation shoots through my body, like a rocket, for a split second until he adds, “And that’s why I’m afraid to tell you what I have to tell you next.”

  My stomach drops. “What?”

  He lets me go delicately.

  “From the first time I saw you, there was something off. Your unusual soul drew me to you at first, but my curiosity grew when I heard the stories you kept in your head, those inconsequential stories of your life. Because death desires life, they made me want your soul even more, but there was something else. After a reaper reaps a soul, we forget the spirits we’ve reaped. They fade from our memories when we return to the underworld. I’ve reaped countless souls, Marley, but I couldn’t tell you any of their names or describe their faces . . . until you. When I returned to Dhiant, I still remembered you, though you should have faded from my memory the instant I moved through the portal. Maybe you’re just unforgettable.” He laughs, but for some reason, it sounds sad. “Every time I thought about you, I’d twinge. That’s never happened to me before.”

  “WHAT?!” I let out a shout. “Aren’t twinges bad? You mean when you thought about me you’d get gros
sed out?! Like I was some common chunk of coral?!”

  “No. The twinge wasn’t here–” He taps the back right side of his head. “It was here.” He pats his chest.

  Oh.

  Pine goes on, “From the beginning, your mana felt familiar, and then when you told me I smelled like home, it made me think. I checked on it when I went back to Dhiant, and I was right. The reason you felt familiar is because . . .” Pine’s perfect face contorts into something pained. “I’m the reaper that reaped your mother.”

  My throat falls into my chest.

  Pine . . . what . . . reap . . . who?

  The piney smell around Mom’s grave – the smell that reminds me of home – that was Pine’s smell. It lingered there because he reaped her?

  I guess . . . I guess I already kind of already knew that. I guess I realized it the moment Minx undid the seal on my memories; I just didn’t want to think about it.

  Jaw tight, Pine continues, “And it’s entirely possible that’s the only reason you think you like me.”

  He delivers the line and then waits stoically for my response.

  Hold on. I need just a second or two to process. My head is swimming. I chew at my nail because it’s a scientific fact that chewing your nail helps you think. “So what you’re saying is . . . YOU SEDUCED MY MOM?!”

  Pine looks at me dumbly. “What?”

  “YOU KNOW! You kissed her and . . . wooed her and stuff. That’s nasty, Pine! My own MOTHER!?”

  “N-no.” Pine stares at me with an ‘are-you-for-real’ kind of look.

  “Yeah right!” I back away from him. “Mother-seducer!”

  Shaking his head, Pine puts a hand over his mouth and lets out a broken sound. “Oh man. You’re something.” When he removes his hand, he’s attempting to hide a grin. “I didn’t ‘seduce’ your mom, Marley. Her reaping was completely different than yours. In fact, the experience is different for everyone. When we’re on an assignment, we become what we need to become. Lovers, friends, a tangible enemy that needs defeating. We’re made into what the spirits need us to be. It isn’t always about romancing. In fact, it rarely is.”