Death Calls

by Al K. Line

"Me? Never."

  "You would have agreed to a deal if Sasha said you had fifty lives and then you'd have to take a stint at being Death. You would have laughed it off, said no way you could be that reckless, and you wouldn't have believed what she was saying anyway. Not deep down."

  I thought about it. "Maybe I would," I admitted.

  "And after you agreed and the deal was made, part of the arrangement would have been that you could never remember making it. Stands to reason, as you aren't allowed to know how many lives you have, as you could try to cheat, not waste them like you have. Sasha would have told you that, you would still have agreed, even if it meant not having the memory of the number of lives until you got called up."

  "Again, maybe."

  "That's how the fae often work. I've been learning all about it. How to make deals, how to wipe memories, how to do loads of stuff. I'm getting quite advanced now." George smiled smugly. She was right, she was becoming not only a powerful witch but more fae by the day. It was scary to watch and worrying in the extreme.

  "So that's it then, I'm screwed."

  "Not necessarily," said George. "You broke the contract, found a way out of it, and that's a good thing."

  "It is?"

  "Yes. The fae adore sneakiness, you know that. They do this kind of stuff all the time, find loopholes. Looks like you found yours. No name crossed out in the book, no death. No fiftieth death, no being the Grim Reaper."

  "And the book? What about that? What about me being dragged back there like I just was?"

  "Probably a glitch," mused George. "And as for the book, um, not sure. Guess it will vanish sooner or later."

  "You don't know, do you?"

  "No," she admitted.

  We sat in silence, all nervous that something awful would happen. When it didn't, we relaxed, and soon enough, and once again, it all felt like a terrible dream. A mistake, something in the past, that we could go on with our abnormal lives.

  But deep down we knew. This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

  Steamy

  I was dead on my feet, thankfully not literally. Although in one regard I'd only missed a night's sleep, in another I'd skipped several lifetimes, and that was how I felt.

  I told them both that I needed to get clean and have a lie down, then heaved off from my chair and staggered upstairs with the weight of the world on my shoulders.

  Peace descended as I entered the sanctuary of my, our, bedroom. It was still tough thinking of things as ours, mine and Penelope's, but it was a nice adjustment to struggle with. Sharing means caring.

  Stripped down to all my scrawny glory, I put my clothes in the laundry basket and entered the en-suite. While the shower warmed, I risked a glance in the fast-steaming mirror. Had I really been him, Mr. Ominous? I smiled at my reflection. I looked awful. Gaunt and with a beard getting grayer by the day. I needed to eat more. The thought made my stomach rumble, but food would have to wait. A shower and sleep first.

  Ten minutes under water so hot my skin glowed pink worked wonders for body and mind. I emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and padded naked to the bed.

  "Well, hello there," said Penelope, smiling from her position atop the covers, arms folded behind her head, one leg bent.

  "Gulp," I said, grinning like the fool I was.

  "Feeling sleepy?" she purred.

  "Oh, I think I can stay awake for a little while longer."

  "Good. I had my shower earlier, so now we're both nice and clean."

  "Then let's get dirty again," I said as I jumped on to the bed.

  That's exactly what we did.

  Beautiful Dreaming

  Sweaty, happy, content, and very, very grateful, I rested my head on Penelope's perfect chest and drifted off into a beautiful sleep. For untold years I had suffered with the curse of so many wizards, unable to sleep, always restless, so much going on, magic swirling around my system so that true rest evaded me and I walked through life in a half-dream. Now the mini-death took me easier and deeper than it ever had, and I had her to thank for that and so much more.

  Living with a citizen was not without its issues, and there was an unexpectedly large amount of stuff to explain that George and I never gave a second thought to, but Penelope was a great grounding force and a very special woman. She was up for excitement, although I didn't let her anywhere near any of my work if I could help it, and yet she still got embroiled and put in danger but accepted it, accepted us, and loved it all.

  She'd had a quiet life, nothing remarkable, just doing the best she could like everyone else, so our world wasn't something she had ever imagined, let alone wanted. But she slotted into place perfectly and I knew this was it for life. It made me happier than I can possibly describe. Overjoyed, and so grateful I got pains in my stomach if I thought about it too much because no way did I deserve her.

  I dreaded something going wrong, and yet it didn't. Somehow, deep down inside, I knew it wouldn't. That as long as I managed to hold on to life, she would be there for me, by my side, and I would do everything I could in this world to protect her. Only thing I couldn't protect her from was me. My stupidity. Trouble seemed to find me no matter what I did, but that was who I was, what I was. A wildcat wizard and I would not change, because this life is simply so much more fun when you're doing stuff you ought not to.

  So I slept, for a while, having beautiful dreams about a sandy beach under a clear blue sky. About an ocean lapping gently at our bare feet as we stood there smiling at each other, the gentle waters warm and inviting.

  I woke with a start, lifted my head from Penelope's chest and she asked, "Feeling better now?"

  "Lots." I thought of my dream, what it meant, what was happening there, and knew what I was about to ask was the right thing to do. I sat up, serious, and Penelope's smile faded.

  "What is it? What's wrong?"

  "I have something to say." Damn, my stomach hurt, cramped until I felt sick. I wiped my forehead nervously.

  "Arthur, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"

  "Penelope, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

  She said nothing, stared at me for the longest time, and I swear I almost threw up. Just when I was about to go pack a bag and live in a cave for the rest of my days, her smile returned, then widened, and she said, "You are one crazy old fool, you know that, right?"

  I nodded. "I know. Trouble, grumpy, impulsive, and plenty of other stuff."

  "So I would love to marry you." She clutched me tight and I felt wet on my shoulder. My tears mingled with hers as we kissed.

  "Thank you," I said.

  "My pleasure."

  We lay back down, holding hands.

  "I don't feel tired any more," I said.

  "Me neither."

  We grinned at each other like the newlyweds we would hopefully soon be, then decided to stay in bed a little longer.

  Family Stuff

  I watched Penelope get dressed after her shower, admiring the view, then hopped in to freshen myself up after she'd gone downstairs. She was going to make a nice lunch, which made the morning just about perfect if you forgot the Death stuff, the black magic dude I'd offed, and all the other nonsense before I got home.

  Clean, dressed in freshly laundered clothes consisting of a nice brown shirt, jeans, and not much else, I swapped out Wand into his bespoke pocket and frowned at his silence. What was with him? Distracted by thoughts of food, I padded downstairs feeling entirely human again, which is an awesome feeling when you haven't had the privilege for a while.

  Penelope was in the kitchen, looking harried as she talked on the phone. A loaf of bread and various cheeses, pickles, and relishes were arranged neatly on the counter but she'd clearly been interrupted before she could finish the sandwiches. My stomach rumbled and saliva filled my mouth.

  I spied the bag on the table, inside which was the most important book since the last most important book I'd dealt with, which didn't end well, and cursed myself for being so lax with such a prized pos
session.

  Feeling a bit daft, but nonetheless knowing I was prone to forget things, I got a small, supple leather backpack from the coat rack in the hall and returned to the kitchen, not really paying attention to Penelope on the phone.

  Book dumped inside, buckles closed, I put the backpack on and juggled it about until it sat nice and flat against my back. Ha, let me lose it now.

  I sat, and Penelope's conversation finally filtered through.

  "Why do you always have to do this? It's been over a year and not a word, now you want money."

  Penelope frowned while whoever was calling spoke.

  "No, of course I don't. You know I do. Hello? What's happening? Hello?" Penelope stared at the phone but the other person had obviously hung up. She stood there, lost in thought, looking stressed like something truly awful had happened.

  "Problem?" I asked.

  "I don't know. I think so. Maybe. Yes, probably. A big one this time."

  "This time? What's happened?"

  "It's my cousin. Jake. I don't think I told you about him."

  "Nope."

  "He's my mum's brother's kid. Although I shouldn't say kid, he's in his twenties now."

  "His twenties?" I tried to do some quick sums but my head wasn't working properly.

  "They had him late, very late. Nobody expected him, least of all them, and they're, shall we say, stuck in their ways. They always had problems with Jake, didn't know how to relate to him. Different generations and all that."

  "Bit of a handful, is he?"

  "Very. He's always been in trouble, but we get along, or used to. I looked out for him, hung out even though he's much younger. I took him under my wing I suppose, tried to protect him. But he was always off getting up to all sorts."

  "Sounds familiar," I mused, thinking about my own childhood.

  "Not like you. He did stupid things, hung out with the wrong crowd, got into stealing, was always running away from home, spent time in juvenile detention, and plenty of other ridiculous acts. Then when he got older he got caught for idiotic things like shoplifting, until he finally seemed to get his act together. He got a place to live, even had a job for a while, but several years ago things fell apart."

  "Don't tell me. He got into drugs, sold everything he owned, ended up in a mess, and kept asking for money. His parents won't have anything to do with him after repeatedly bailing him out, but the final straw came when he stole from them one time too many, and you're his only link to the family now?"

  "How did you know?"

  "Because I've seen it before, quite a few times, and the one thing I know is it is never anyone else's fault but your own. If you get into a mess you can get out of it. It isn't easy, it's tough as hell, as once the drugs take hold it's a real struggle to escape, but you can."

  "Exactly. I helped him get clean a few years back, again, but then he went back to it, and it was worse than ever that time. I couldn't cope. He would come to my place strung-out at all hours, looking for money. And he stole from me. I told him we were done."

  "And the phone call?"

  "He sounded worried, I mean really worried. Not like usual. He wanted money, asked for it. Five thousand pounds. I don't have that kind of money to give away. I don't have that kind of money at all. There was someone there with him. I think maybe they were making him call."

  "Doesn't sound good. What do you want to do? Just ask. And Penelope?"

  "Yes."

  "I know we haven't had the conversation, my fault as I'd just assumed it was a given, but my money is yours, you know that, right?"

  "Don't be silly. It's your money, not mine."

  "No, we are a family. The day George arrived and I found out I had a daughter, I told her whatever I had was hers, that we were a family. I should have told you the same. You, me, and George are a team. I have money, more than I will ever spend, more than you'd believe, so if you want to give a drug dealer five grand to help Jake then you do that. It's your money too."

  "Thank you, thank you so much. But should I? I don't know what to do. I don't even know where he is. He hung up, or the person with him hung up. I think he's in terrible trouble. Sorry, this is the last thing you need right now. I still can't believe what you told me is true. You were really Death?"

  "I was. But look, don't worry about that. Let's sort this mess out first. He's family and you care for him, don't you?"

  "I do, even though I know I shouldn't."

  "Okay then. Let's wait for him to call back and then we'll get this sorted. I'll come with you, we'll get him out of the hole he's in, and then you decide what you want to do. Okay?"

  "Okay." Penelope nodded, and bit her lip. She was worried. I didn't blame her.

  Addiction is a terrible thing, I should know. It consumes you, eats you up from the inside out, and it is almost impossible to get out from under. Once an addict, always an addict. It's all just down to if you can give your addiction the finger and never let it rule your life.

  I'd failed at it, but then, I'd never even tried to break my main addiction.

  Magic was too wondrous to even contemplate giving up.

  Trouble Brewing

  I finished making lunch while Penelope fretted over Jake. I felt so weird because I didn't feel that weird at all. Everything was normal, inasmuch as it could be normal in my life. I was home, we were in the kitchen, there was a family problem, and I'd been Death mere hours earlier.

  The weight of the backpack was a constant reminder, and yet it all seemed so long ago, a distant memory already, and although I'd had my fair share of nutty experiences over the years, this was right up there with the top five. Okay, number two on the nuttiness scale, but I was making sandwiches so found it hard to relate.

  There would be plenty to deal with, but it would have to wait. If Penelope needed me then I'd help her deal with her problem. She'd certainly dealt with enough of mine. I was more than happy to help her out. This Jake character sounded like trouble, and a worry, and I was surprised she hadn't mentioned him. I guess family is like that. You don't want to admit your dark secrets, the faults with them all, and he wasn't part of her life any more. Didn't matter. Chances were, he was in real danger too. If a drug dealer was making him call for cash, lots of it, then they wouldn't feel too bad about doing him some real damage, maybe worse, to make their point.

  We ate. I was starving and wolfed it down, Penelope hardly touched hers. She pushed her plate over to me.

  "Are you sure? You have to eat."

  "I can't face it. Do you think he's all right?"

  "Honestly? Probably not. I know how these guys work, and they don't take kindly to being owed serious cash. Five grand is a lot of money to them."

  "It's a lot of money to me."

  "I told you, what's mine is yours. Sorry, that came out wrong. It's not mine, it's ours. Yours, mine, and George's. Money is there if you want it. Look, when this is over, we'll sort it out properly, put your name on the main account so there's always cash available. Don't go thinking you have to ask or anything, it's just money."

  "Arthur, thank you. It feels strange though. I can't take your money."

  "It's not mine. It's ours. We're together, for always. We're going to be married. Haha, married! So we're partners."

  Penelope brightened at the mention of marriage. I think we'd both if not forgotten then certainly got swept up by this Jake nonsense and let it put a damper on the whole thing. "Yes, married. But your money is yours. We haven't been together long. I don't want to look like a gold digger."

  "Haha, trust me, you don't. It's my fault, I get distracted, caught up in things, and forget about the basics. I honestly never think about money. Over the years I've done a lot of jobs, and there's more than we will ever need. Don't sweat it. Think of it like this. Are you going to go out and buy crap and waste money, or will you use it to buy what you need and think of it as something not to stress about any longer?"

  "I never waste money."

  "There you go then. Anyway,
my mind is made up, so let's not discuss it. But if you want to pay these guys we will. If Jake owes them then he owes them."

  "Thank you. Again."

  "We're partners."

  The phone rang and Penelope snatched it up from the table. "Hello?" She frowned as a voice came through fast and somewhat garbled.

  "Yes... Okay. What's happening? Are you okay?" Penelope frowned again and the line went dead.

  "He said he's okay but he owes these men and he needs to pay them today. I could hear someone talking, they didn't sound happy."

  "What did they say?"

  "I couldn't make it out. Just men talking."

  "So they have him somewhere and want their money before they let him go?"

  "Yes."

  Penelope gave me the address Jake had told her. It was familiar. "Damn, he really is a wild one, isn't he?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean he's off the grid. People who get their gear from the guys who hang out there are pretty desperate."

  "I thought all addicts and drug dealers were desperate?"

  "No, not really. You know what Ivan does, right? You know what he is, what he's involved in?"

  "Yes." Penelope's mouth turned down in distaste. I knew how she felt.

  "I know, I know. He kind of fell into the role he has, and I've told him how I feel about the drugs and the rest, but it is what it is. He runs much of the crime in the country, but he's cleaned up the bad stuff since he took over. But the drugs, he runs that too, a lot of it. He knows what comes in, ensures it's the best quality, safe as it can be."

  "You sound like you're defending him."

  "I'm not, and I am. I've had this conversation with him several times, and he doesn't like it any more than I do. But the fact is, people want drugs and it's big money. If he doesn't run it, control it as best he can, then he'll lose his position. And the men running drug operations aren't nice people. Most don't care at all. He does. So he sells heroin, and all manner of other weird things, but he makes sure his guys are professional."

  "So Ivan's selling my cousin heroin. Great!"