The Last Great Reaper

by Billi Bell

  After a few minutes, her eyes returned to normal, and the scythe returned within her. She looked over to Adofo in astonishment. “What the hell? She’s here in the park, but something’s wrong. The son is not there, and I think he’s been hidden from me.”

  Death’s cape formed around her as she rushed to the door. She ran right into Dominic, who had evidently been eavesdropping on their conversation.

  “I…I…couldn't remember the way to the room,” he stuttered as he tried to explain, but turned to leave when he could tell she wasn’t buying it. She stopped him and motioned for him to join them.

  “I believe you’re about to learn another valuable lesson,” she said with a sly smile.

  Dominic followed the two reapers down the long hallway and into a large opulent foyer. To his left, he spotted the living room, full of even more handcrafted furniture and antique artifacts. It was lightened by a single candle sitting on a large stone fireplace. Ironically, only a single painting was in this room. It hung over the fireplace and appeared to be a landscape, but it was difficult to see.

  Death opened the door, and Dominic saw the outside world for the first time in what felt like days. The sun was setting, and he realized where he was almost instantly, London.

  “This is Kensington Gardens, my goodness, I haven’t been here in years,” said Dominic, in awe of how the city had changed in the near century since he’d last seen it.

  After gazing at the sky, he looked forward to seeing Death and Adofo walking across water. When he looked down he froze, he was standing in the middle of Round Pond. He looked back up to the reapers as they walked onto the grass and stopped on the pathway. Death turned giving him an annoyed look and Dominic began to gingerly walk across the pond.

  “I wonder if Jesus felt this amazed.”

  “If you don’t walk faster you’ll be able to ask him yourself,” said Death.

  Adofo stifled a laugh as Dominic finally made it to land. The three preceded to walk north through the park. He briefly turned back to the pond where the black and white gothic style home previously stood, but it was gone. “You can hide an entire home?”

  Death ignored him as they continued walking until they reached The Serpentine. It wasn’t long ago that she reaped a soul here. The first wife of poet Percy Shelley, Harriet, drowned herself in its waters six years prior. When her name came to Death, she merely walked out her door, and she met the poor woman standing on the edge of the bank as she watched her body sink below the water.

  Every Paladin carries a scroll that appears blank to all other reapers, except Death. Every day at midnight thousands of reapers around the world receive a list of names. These people are destined to die on that day, and there are usually no more than twenty names to each reaper. The higher the world population grew, more reapers had come to be needed. There were rules in place to prevent incidents like Clara’s from happening. Death had created a block, avoiding contact with close relatives.

  As they rounded the path, a woman’s silhouette came into view. The young woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties and dressed in a green gown. Her face is flushed and swollen with tears flowing down her face. Death closed in and her scythe formed in record time. She held the blade to Clara’s throat and stared deep into her eyes.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Death was furious with her. “You know what happens if someone’s soul is not reaped. Who helped you commit such a foolish and dangerous act?”

  Dominic watched as Clara tried not to move with the blade an inch from her throat. A reaper could die only one of two ways, and they were both at Death’s hand. If they requested to move on and Death agreed they could, she would open the portal to the afterlife. If they were disobedient, they met their end with a single swing of her blade.

  “I’m not sorry for what I’ve done, I know I should be, but I’m not. Percival’s so young, and he’s just gotten married. They’re going to have a baby,” Clara said trembling in fear.

  “I asked you a question, and I’m not going to ask it again.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. A voice came to me in my head, and I thought I was going crazy. I couldn’t recognize it, but I could tell it was a man. He told me that my little Percival was going to die horribly in a fire. I swear at first all I wanted to do was help his soul move on, but my request was denied. Then the voice came back and told me how to break the block and contact my son. Percival should be long gone now.”

  Captain Adofo stepped forward, “You should know what happens to a soul like his and what you have set into the world. His soul will rot him from the inside, and he will lash out. People will die before their time, and that rotted human could kill many sons and daughters before Death finds him.”

  Death lowered the blade from Clara’s neck. “I understand your pain, but someone has taken advantage of the love you have for your son and I guarantee it’s me they want. The last time something like this occurred, it was hell on earth, and I can’t let that happen again. I will find him either by you telling me where he is or by following the trail of bodies he leaves.”

  Clara weighed her options but figured either way, he would die. “I’m sorry, but what I’ve done will allow him more time, and he has a good heart. I know he will not be capable of hurting anyone.”

  Death gripped her scythe and commanded Clara to kneel. Dominic quickly turned away, but he couldn’t help but hear the sound of the blade and something heavy hitting the ground. He briefly lived in France in the 18th century, and he’d seen a few public executions using the guillotine. The sound each head made hitting the basket was etched into his brain, and Clara’s falling to the ground wasn’t far off.

  “Take care of this,” Death ordered Adofo. “I’m calling a gathering, this is the second time in a century something like this has happened. I don’t like it, something’s off. Dominic, you’re coming with me.”

  Dominic refused to turn around. “Well, if it’s okay, I’d like to go back to my room.”

  “No, I’ve decided not to let you out of my sight for now. Maybe your purpose is to stop this from happening again. You're coming with me, and that’s an order,” she said. “They’re gone, so you can turn around now."

  Dominic turned to face her and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she was honest. Her scythe was still in her hand, but no blood on its blade.

  “I don’t need to lie to you, and I cleaned the blade, I don’t like Artemis being dirty. I hope you learned a lesson, don’t ever try to get over on me. It won’t end well, immortal or not. I’ll throw you in a volcano, and you’ll burn for all eternity.”

  “Noted, but there is something I don’t understand. Why didn’t she run or stay with her son?” he asked.

  “Because whoever helped her, couldn’t hide her from me, only Percival. Her soul belongs to me until her duties are done. All reapers agree to that when they accept their role. Percival’s soul was not mine, so it made it easier for him to be shielded from my sight. She had three days to hide him, and that now puts me three days behind finding him. So let's go, I have an important meeting to call.”

  CHAPTER 7

  1456: Northern England

  Elizabeth lived in a small village of no particular renown. Its homes and shops were indistinguishable from nearby villages, and it had no notable residents to speak of. The town was populated with families that had inhabited the area for generations. She was the youngest of five daughters and the last one left for her father to marry off. Her sisters had all moved to different parts of England, and he would remind her almost daily of having an extra mouth to feed. Unmarried at age 19, she fought against the domestic roles women were subjected to.

  She spent most of her days in the woods that surrounded the village hunting or practicing her archery. Although her father wasn’t fond of her activities, he had no problem accepting the game she brought home. It was during one of these trips to the woods, she would meet someone who changed her life
forever.

  That warm summer day was perfect to go into the woods and practice her shot. Elizabeth gathered her bow and arrows and headed out after preparing breakfast for her father. She’d been practicing for almost an hour when a figure in the distance caught her eye. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, many young men from the village enjoyed disturbing her practice to flirt or even propose marriage. As the figure came closer, she saw it was, in fact, a man, but not one she recognized from the village. She assumed he came from somewhere nearby, but as a precaution, she readied the bow and arrow to defend herself.

  As he got closer, she noticed his clothing looked old and tattered. His long hair and beard made his emaciated appearance even more alarming. He finally locked his eyes on her and his pace increased. Elizabeth knew she should be running away, but her feet wouldn’t allow her to move. He stopped a few yards away from her and collapsed.

  She instinctively ran to his side and put his head in her hands. He looked into her eyes and somehow, she knew he wasn’t going to hurt her.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He tried to answer, but his mouth was too dry to speak. She ran and grabbed the small pouch of water she’d brought from home. She slowly poured it into his mouth before he grabbed the container and drank it empty.

  “Thank you,” he finally managed to say. His voice was faint, but she could tell he was English.

  Elizabeth didn’t have it in her to leave him there to die, so she helped him off the ground and led him towards her home. Her father would be out for the day, and their home stood closer to the woods than the village, allowing her to sneak him inside without anyone seeing.

  With Elizabeth being the last child left, there was plenty of room to hide the stranger in the large cottage, but her bedroom seemed to be the safest option. She helped him up the stairs and onto her bed. She wondered how long he had been walking after noticing the soles of his feet were bleeding.

  After collecting more water, she brought it back to him, and he drank it just as quickly as before. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep from exhaustion. Elizabeth left him to complete her chores, periodically checking on him throughout the day. He was still sleeping when her father came home later that evening. Despite not being the cook her mother was, she’d reluctantly continued the duty after she’d died two years earlier. She tried her best to act natural, but her heart skipped a beat when a noise from upstairs got her father’s attention.

  “What was that? Are you keeping baby rabbits again? I told you to leave them out there, the mother will return for them or nature will take its course,” he said.

  “I’m sorry father, I will return them in the morning. Please don’t make me go back out in the dark.”

  He agreed the “rabbits” could stay the night but threatened to skin them if she didn’t take them back first thing. She excused herself to check on them and found the stranger had knocked a pitcher of water off the bedside table in his sleep. She cleaned up the mess and quickly rejoined her father downstairs. After the meal, he retired to his bedroom on the ground floor, and Elizabeth finished cleaning in record time.

  Returning to her room, she found the man was now awake and more alert. She’d brought some food and hot water for him to bathe with. He devoured the meal so quickly she was afraid he’d choke.

  “How are you feeling?” she quietly asked. “Would you like some more?”

  “I’m fine, thank you so much. I will get out of your way soon,” he said as she took the bowl from his hands. “Where am I - oh goodness, I’m afraid I’ve been so rude. I haven’t even asked the name of my hero?”

  She smiled. “My name is Elizabeth, and you're in a village called Lewsworth. What is your name and what village do you come from?”

  She watched as he appeared to be much confused by such simple questions.

  “I don’t know, I sound like you do, so I must be from here too, right?”

  “I’m afraid England is a bit larger than you might think and by the state of you, I’d say you’re a long way from home, sir.”

  “Please, I might not know much, but I don’t think “sir” fits me well. I can’t remember what my name is actually, can you help me with one?”

  Elizabeth smiled, noticing for the first time how handsome he was. She never really looked at boys before, they usually annoyed her with their attempts to convince her father into forcing her to marry. She fiddled with her dress as she thought of an appropriate name.

  “Well how about John or Robert? No, James,” she said smiling brightly. “James…Hart?”

  “I love it, and even if I do get my memory back, I think I’ll keep it,” he smiled brightly.

  After talking a while longer, James told Elizabeth his story or all that he could actually remember. He’d awakened on a shore with no memory of how he got there, so he began walking to look for help. Hungry and thirsty, his body felt like he’d been thrown from a horse. He survived on the wild berries he found, but he hadn’t had a drink of water since it rained that first night. He’d been walking for three days when he came upon Elizabeth.

  “Well, I warmed up some bathwater and found some old clothes of my father. He’s gotten too big for them since my mother died. I’ll leave you to bathe while I figure out a way to convince my father to let you stay.”

  She turned to leave but looked back one last time to wish him good night. He had begun undressing, and Elizabeth gasped when she saw his back. A large jagged scar that led from his left shoulder appeared to extend down his left leg. Its color, a dark shade of blue with flecks of gold shining throughout.

  “How could someone survive such a wound?” Elizabeth wondered.

  “Oh, I’m sorry I thought you were leaving.”

  She walked towards James and directed him to a mirror. She could see by his reaction that this was his first time seeing the scar. He was horrified.

  “What happened to me?”

  Elizabeth was confused, how could he not have remembered getting such a horrendous injury. James seemed to be deeply distressed, and she decided to leave him alone for the night.

  “Just try not to make any noise. God knows what he’d do if he found you in my room tonight.” James nodded and returned looking back into the mirror.

  “Who would do this to me?” James pondered.

  Elizabeth closed the door and questioned if she had done the right thing by letting a complete stranger in her home. As she slipped into her sister’s old room, she decided to trust her gut, after all, it never let her down before.

  CHAPTER 8

  Death’s scythe began to glow white as she banged it against the ground three times. Dominic heard the sound of hooves nearby and turned to see a monstrously large pale horse galloping towards them. The horses’ size was unearthly, and it stood taller than his six-foot frame. Its eyes glowed white, and hair seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. Death walked over to the horse and gently brushed its pale green mane. The animal lowered its head to allow her more access, and she placed her head on its muzzle.

  Dominic couldn’t help but think of the irony. She had just beheaded a woman only minutes before and was now giving the most gentle affection to another creature.

  “You do remember I can hear your thoughts, right?” Death asked. “I have a job to do, and she disobeyed a seriously important rule. I am not heartless, anyone who breaks the laws of death shall suffer the consequences. Besides, Nella deserves so much love.”

  Nella lowered herself down enough for Death to mount her. Death signaled for Dominic to join her. He climbed onto the horse, and she raised herself and began to gallop back towards Round Pond. Nella’s speed picked up as they headed straight for the water. Dominic started to panic, closed his eyes and instinctively grabbed Death by the waist expecting to hit the murky water. Death commanded the horse to go faster, and Nella gave one last boost before a black opening formed in the middle of the pond. The horse jumped inside, and it closed just as the last hair of her tail passed thru.

 
; Dominic felt the horse slow its pace and he opened his eyes and saw they were riding into a cemetery.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Saint Louis Cemetery,” Death answered as she guided Nella through the narrow paths until they came to a small clearing between the crowded crypts. The horse lowered itself and allowed them to jump off. The cemetery was eerily quiet in the darkness. Despite Dominic’s quest to die, he spent little time around graveyards. He always had a feeling of being watched by the dead, but tonight felt odd. He’d say they were sleeping if it didn’t sound so ridiculous.

  “It does sound ridiculous,” said Death smiling as she walked around the small area, occasionally knocking the scythe’s staff against the ground.

  “Can you stop reading my thoughts, it’s rude…please?” Dominic asked cautiously.

  “I’m trying to figure out how to access that odd little area that’s been blocked off from me. If it bothers you so much, I’ll just continue to do it while your sleeping.”

  Before a slightly disturbed Dominic could respond, Death stopped in the center of a small clearing and appeared to be waiting. “Step to the side or get trampled,” she said.

  He backed up and until he hit the front side of a crypt and in a matter of seconds from three different directions came the neighing of horses. Dominic first caught sight of a white horse carrying a tall rider. The horses’ mane was colored a jet black, and it was nearly as large as Nella. The rider appeared to be of middle eastern origin with smooth brown skin. He sported a beard and dressed in dark-colored 12th-century clothing.

  He dropped from his horse and showed similar affection as Death did to hers. It didn’t take Dominic long to realize who he was, the White Rider and Horseman of Disease.

  “...I looked, and behold, a white horse...”

  He recited the words in his head and having read many different myths surrounding the Four Horsemen, he couldn’t help but feel excited to find out which parts were real. The White Rider approached and bowed to Death.