Scythe

by M K Mancos

  They trudged up the stairs and stopped on the landing as she struggled with the lock. Neither of the doors worked worth a damn, but it seemed she always forgot to bring up the fact to Nico when she saw him.

  She shoved her bag and the scroll at Ephraim. “Here, hold these while I try to get this damn lock to obey me.”

  Ephraim made an arc with his free hand and the lock miraculously turned, as if it had been recently lubed.

  “You work as a magician on the weekends?”

  He gave her a look as if it were nothing.

  Cold air assailed her as she stepped through the door and came to a stop in the middle of the apartment. She could actually see her breath rolling out in small puffs. How did it get so cold? It had to be at least twenty degrees cooler inside than out. Had the thermostat quit working?

  Ephraim brushed by her and headed for the kitchen. He turned in a circle then headed to the bedroom and bathroom, acting like he expected someone to jump out at him. As if a burglar could even get into the apartment with the bum doors.

  “What is it? What are you looking for?” She met him as he came back out from the bathroom with a worried frown planted firmly between his tawny brows.

  “You need to read the scroll.” His voice had gotten deeper, firmer.

  “I need to take my shoes off and rest my feet.” She hobbled over to the old sofa and sat. The inexpensive cover rode down with the motion, showing the much-abused upholstery underneath. Annoyed, she leaned over and pulled it back up to cover the sofa’s back.

  Straightening, she wasn’t surprised to see Ephraim held the scroll right under her nose. “Read it.”

  “No wonder they sent you to deliver this. You’re about as single-minded as they come.”

  He smiled as if it were a compliment. She could assure him it wasn’t meant to be. But she’d keep her mouth shut for once.

  With a disgruntled tug, she took the scroll and pulled off the red satin ribbon, then broke the gold wax seal. The paper had an odd feel to it. It was very heavy and thick and made a weird, deep, resonant sound when she unrolled it. Not like the crinkle of your average paper, more like the old hide parchments of bygone eras.

  DEATH.

  The word screamed at her from the top of the page.

  Her heart beat like ragged thunder in her chest.

  “Oh, God!” She threw the scroll on the floor and crawled up the back of the sofa. Her hand flung out in front of her in a defensive position. “Get the hell away from me.”

  Ephraim screamed like a little girl and jumped away from her like she meant him harm. He sat back against the sofa arm with his hand plastered to his chest. His breath sawed in and out like he’d just finished the New York City Marathon.

  They stared at each other in stunned silence. After a moment, he shook his head, clearing it. “No, Keely, finish reading the scroll. It’ll all be clear to you then. And stop scaring me like that.”

  The scroll could have proclaimed her the winner of the Publisher’s Clearinghouse, for all she cared. She was not picking it up again.

  Ephraim bent over and retrieved it from the floor, unrolling it so the words faced her. He held it up before her eyes. “See? It’s not bad.”

  DEATH AND DISMEMBERMENT.

  “Not bad? It’s worse. Death and Dismemberment? Are you kidding me?” There were words above those, but from her position and the way the scroll curled over at the top, she couldn’t read them.

  “No, read it. It’s from the Office of Death and Dismemberment.” He tried to hand the scroll back to her, but she shook her head. He gave a sigh as if he’d been given an assignment beyond his capability. “I promise, no one is going to hurt you. It’s a recruitment letter. That’s all. You’re being offered a job.”

  “A job? As what? An assassin for the mob?” She pointed at the door. “Get the hell outta here.”

  “Look, I know this is upsetting, and it’s going to get even more disturbing and confusing for you, but it’s not a joke. It’s serious business.” As he looked at her, his eyes warmed in compassion and understanding, much like they had when he’d taken on Clyde. She wasn’t going to buy into that, no matter how much her mind started to calm and her heart rate to slow. She much preferred the adrenaline rush to some weirdo hypnotic trance he tried to pull.

  She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look into his Svengali-like gaze. “If you say ‘deadly business’ I’m so going to punch you in the head.”

  “Look, I know this is going to sound strange, but you’re being offered a job by Him. There’s been a parting of the ways and we’re into heavy recruiting right now.”

  Keely peeked open an eye. “Him who? Who do you work for and why should I care?”

  “I work for Him. And you should care because you’re about to work for Him, too.”

  She really didn’t care for the way he said Him with awe and reverence, the fact he never gave a name notwithstanding. “I never agreed to anything.”

  “But you will. We really need you. All of humanity needs you.”

  “That’s laying it on thick.” She was in grad school to get her master’s in social work, so it was no small thing to say humanity needed her, but she didn’t think they needed her the way Ephraim seemed to think they did. “All right, cut the bullshit and the veiled references. Give it to me straight.”

  She finally took the scroll from him again and scanned the contents as he talked. Getting an answer out of him was like trying to get scientists to agree on the theory of time travel. Apparently, the Office of Death and Dismemberment wanted her to work as something called a Scythe.

  “What’s a Scythe?” She pointed to the word printed out in elaborate calligraphy. “And if you describe a farming implement to me, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  He smiled a bit. “You would think of them as Death, but in actuality, death is a different job description. A Scythe is responsible for severing the cord that connects body and soul. In order to move on to the afterlife, a soul must be cut loose.”

  It was getting weirder by the minute. “And you think I’m going to do this?”

  “You’ve been recruited.” He pointed to the scroll as if that was the be all and end all of the discussion. It wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

  “I can see that.” She read down a little farther on the page.

  Upon her death, she was slated to become a Scythe, so in order to increase their employment numbers, they were taking new recruits on board to train. It all left a very bad taste in her mouth.

  She took a deep breath and asked the question burning in her throat. “Does this mean I’m going to die?”

  “Eventually, everyone dies. Well, every mortal, that is.” He touched her arm and made his voice very soft. “I can tell you, you have a very long and productive life ahead of you. They want you to work as a Scythe from this side of the veil. It’s something that’s not been tried before, but it can work.” He looked around as if he might be overheard in the apartment. Not likely, unless Nico bugged the place.

  He leaned in a bit and lowered his voice even more. “Not since Lucifer left has there been such a shakeup at the home office. We’ve had some problems in the D and D department lately. There were some troublemakers who did sloppy work. They put both the bodies and souls of millions in jeopardy. Sorry, I can’t give you the particulars because I don’t really know all the aspects of the job. Anyhow, they were reprimanded and sent for reorientation. Instead of making them better at their tasks, it only made them more resentful. They left and started their own company.”

  It sounded like nothing she’d ever learned in Sunday School. But it seemed everything was going corporate these days, so why not heaven?

  What was she thinking? Good God, the man was so convincing, even she had begun to believe him. He was nuttier than a fruitcake and she sat in judgment of him instead of trying to help. What kind of a social worker was she going to make? A very bad one, evidently.

  Still, it was a lot to take in
. Not to mention, she needed a job that paid.

  A slow glance around the apartment showed her the evidence of her multiple failures. Life had a way of humbling a person. Her friends thought she was crazy to live the way she did when her parents owned a perfectly grand home in Short Hills.

  Oh, yes. She was a privileged woman who chose to live a hard life so she would know where those she counseled came from and what their lives were like. What had started as a social experiment meant to build character, increase compassion, and gain perspective had instead turned her hard and jaded. Pride kept her from going back to her parents and asking for help. To them, she pretended as if everything in her life smelled of roses, when in reality it smelled of the dumpster behind her building.

  But she had seen some of her classmates who came from backgrounds similar to hers. The system and the clients they dealt with had chewed them up and spit them out in short order. They had not been ready for the reality that some people didn’t want help, but liked to live off the dole. Keely had realized long ago that the crux of the problem lay with people not believing deep down they were worth saving. The challenge was in convincing them that they were.

  That’s why living as she did had become so important to her. How could you get those you’re trying to help to believe you if they thought you had no clue where they came from or what they went through on a daily basis? To win the war, you had to get down in the trenches.

  Keely looked up at Ephraim.

  He sat forward, expecting an answer.

  There was always the possibility he’d been sent by someone at school to play a joke on her. The tale he told was super-sized. Though she believed in God and the good book, she didn’t believe angels walked among humans. She didn’t believe the soul needed any extra help in moving on to its next stage of existence. The soul was energy, and energy changed and mutated. It needed a catalyst to make the transfer, to ascend. That catalyst was death. Plain and simple death. It was a state of being, not an actual being. As for Scythes…

  She shook her head and handed the scroll back to him. “I’m sorry. I’m just not buying it. You play a real convincing role. I mean, you look as if you believe every word that’s coming out of your mouth. And let me tell you, with your looks, you could make a real killing in Hollywood.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing. When I leave the bar for good, it’s going to be for a job that pays, and pays me well to do what I was meant to do. What I’ve been training for, not,” she twirled her hand in frustration, indicating the scroll, “some position as one of Heaven’s Holy Assassins.”

  He gave a little snort. “Heaven’s Holy Assassins. I’ll pass that one on. I think He’ll like it. But about the pay, you know you don’t have to worry. Paychecks from Him don’t bounce.”

  “No, and gold coins are so easy to pass off in the metropolitan area.” She stood and started for the door. “I’m sorry, but it’s been a very long day. I just want to soak my feet and get to bed.”

  Ephraim slapped his hands against his legs then stood. “At least think about the offer.”

  She nodded her promise to do that just to get him to leave.

  Once he was gone, she hobbled into the bathroom to run a bath and soak her feet, putting all thoughts of the odd evening out of her head.

  2

  Whatever hocus-pocus Ephraim used on the door continued to work. Keely opened the apartment the next evening with all the ease of turning a new lock. If he found going around the city telling fantastic tales of otherworldly corporations got old, he could always find work as the world’s first celestial handyman.

  She chuckled at her clever thoughts, then jumped and screamed as she took in the strange man dressed like Death sitting at her kitchen table.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  He raised a dark, disapproving brow at her then stood. “Samson. I’ve been assigned as your preceptor.”

  “Preceptor? I sent your friend on his way last night with—I thought— a clear understanding that I wasn’t interested.” She started to set her purse down on the table when she stared down in horror. Sitting next to another scroll was a golden sickle. Unlike his buddy, this guy was packing.

  She picked it up off the table before he could get to it. Odd tingles started in her fingers and spread out over her hand like a small electric shock. She switched hands and pumped her fist open and closed a few times.

  Why had he set the sickle down on the table in the first place? As a visual threat? So she would see he meant business?

  Keely held it up in front of her. “Stay back.” She shuffled backwards until she came up against the far wall. She reached into her pocket and dug out her phone.

  Samson didn’t look as worried as he should. He crossed his arms over his chest and affected a bored pose. “When you’re finished.”

  She pulled up the phone app and hit nine-one-one. It rang once before Samson raised a hand and waved it like Ephraim had done the night before. The line went dead.

  All right, that was weird.

  He advanced on her.

  She held the sickle up to defend herself.

  “Give that to me before you hurt yourself.” As he pulled it from her hand, she kicked him in the shin. “Ow!”

  When he bent down to rub his injured leg, she brought her hands together and came down on the back of the neck like she’d seen on television. It didn’t work. He gave a grunt then looked up at her. “Quit acting like a child.”

  “I’m not. I’m trying to defend myself.” She started to run to the door and leave, but he beat her there and planted himself in front of her.

  The indifference was gone from his face. In its place was only mild irritation, but somehow she didn’t think she was the one he was irritated with. “Come, let’s sit down and discuss this rationally.”

  She swallowed. How was she supposed to be rational when a six-and-a-half-foot agent of death stalked her around her apartment, proclaiming he was there to precept her into a job she never agreed to?

  He held her by the upper arm and more dragged than walked her over to the couch. He gave her a gentle push so she’d sit, and took a place beside her.

  “I will say this once, and only once. Whether you like it or not, you are a Scythe now and a Scythe you will be.”

  “You haven’t been around Jersey girls a lot, have you?”

  “More than you have, you impudent upstart.” He crossed powerful arms over his chest and glared at her. “I told Him this was a bad idea. I told Him it wouldn’t work. You can’t expect mortals to do as you ask without eons of heartache and pain thrown into the bargain. But how do you argue with Him and win, I ask you? You don’t. He’s God, He always wins.”

  Had some kind of heretofore-unknown psychosis fallen over the area?

  “No, it hasn’t.” He raised his brows. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t read your mind. I could tell what you are thinking by the look on your face. You are as transparent as the ephemeral veil.”

  Keely frowned. She really wasn’t cut out for social work if she couldn’t take care of a couple of misguided souls who were both in desperate need of counseling.

  “Don’t pout. You’ll get winkles.” He stood and walked back into the kitchen then returned with the sickle and scroll. “Now, first order of business is to tell you exactly what your duties will be and then I’ll show you how to use your tools.”

  If it got rid of the guy faster to listen to his spiel, then by all that was holy, she’d listen. “Oh, why the hell not.”

  He didn’t look fooled for a moment, but he didn’t reprimand her again either, instead he went into lecture mode. She’d sat through enough classes as an undergrad and grad student to know exactly what lecture mode looked like.

  He broke the seal on the scroll and let it unroll until it hit the floor. “All names that appear on this list must be cleared before morning. Since you are the newest Scythe, you will work the night shift. Only those with more experience and the ability to move s
tealthily are allowed the day shift.”

  On those points she had to object. “Wait just a minute. If you think I’m going to bust my ass at school all morning and then serve drinks all day long and stay up all night to relieve people of their souls, you’re as crazy as Ephraim.”

  “Do not interrupt me.” He stared off into space for a moment as if he’d lost his train of thought. “All names must be cleared by morning.”

  “You already said that.”

  “I also said not to interrupt me.”

  Keely snapped her jaws together with a loud clack of her back teeth. Ephraim was much easier to get along with. At least he was happy in his delusions. Samson was as crusty and cantankerous as they came. He wasn’t bad looking though. Just sort of intense. He did have that same scary shade of blue eyes Ephraim had, though Samson’s hair was dark.

  She cocked her head to the side, looking at him at a different angle. Lola would have chewed him up and spit him out already.

  He stopped talking. That was fine, she hadn’t heard him anyways.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Stand up.” He made an upward motion with his hand.

  Self-consciously, she stood. “Why?”

  “I’m going to teach you how to wield your scythe.” He took up the golden sickle and held it so the blade faced away from him.

  “That’s not a scythe. It’s a sickle.”

  “I know what it is.”

  He started to say something else, but Keely couldn’t help herself and cut him off again. “Then why didn’t you call it a sickle?”

  “Because we are Scythes.”

  “Not if we carry sickles, we’re not.”

  “Have you ever tried to carry a scythe?” When Keely shook her head he continued. “They are very clumsy and one cannot get the control needed to do the task properly. Sickles work much better.”

  “Then why aren’t we called Sickles?”

  He made a face. “Does that name strike fear and awe in you?”

  “No.”

  “All right then. Can we continue, or do you have more pointless questions to ask?”