by Bee Douglas
“As you keep saying.”
“If you would actually listen,” I volley, “I wouldn’t have to keep reminding you.” He doesn’t reply. He’s good at that. “Your bosses are okay with you leaving me?” Once again, he doesn’t say anything.
I watch as he takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, tapping them against the palm of his hand. I thought he was going to light one up in the middle of the kitchen, but he puts the pack back in his pocket. “You won’t be staying alone.”
“What?”
“You asked me if Death would approve of you being left alone while I work.” His answer is extremely delayed. I almost forgot what I asked. “You won’t be. I have someone coming to sit with you for a while.
Gee, another babysitter. “Is it that other man? The golden skin one?”
While in the room with the trio of supposed royalty, there had been another man. He stood in the back corner of the room. I didn’t get a good look at him, but I do remember black hair and permanently sun-kissed skin.
“No.” Kane’s back straightens. In the time we’ve been together, his posture has ranged from tense to stiff as a board. His muscles probably hate him.
The sound of the elevator doors opening startles me. A girl steps out, her combat boots colliding with the hardwood floor. “I’m ordering Chinese food and it’s going on your tab,” she states as she strolls into the kitchen.
Kane doesn’t reply. Shocker. “Raina will be here while I’m gone. I’ll help with the research in the morning.” He gestures to the book in my hands and I nod. “Behave yourself.”
It takes me a moment to realize he isn’t talking to me. The girl flashes her middle finger. Once the elevator doors shut, I turn my attention back to her.
“He said your name’s Raina?” She nods, not looking up from her phone. Apparently the lack of conversation skills runs in the Reaper community.
Raina’s several inches shorter than me, but what she lacks in height, she makes up for in confidence. It pours out of her. From her closely buzzed hair and thick lined eyes, to the leather jacket and boots. It’s clear this girl doesn’t give a fuck and she wants everyone to know it too.
In most cases, I would try and make some type of small talk, but I doubt she’ll partake. Royce probably is the easiest of this group to talk to. He has a smile that makes your heart throb and a personality to match. Raina’s rough. And Kane? Kane’s impenetrable.
“You want food?”
Her question takes me by surprise, but I shake my head, thinking of the apple I just ate. “Thank you though.”
She shrugs her shoulders, and then moseys into the living room area, plopping down on the couch.
And that’s how we stay for the next couple of hours. Eventually, her Chinese food comes. She eats in silence, apart from the occasional chuckle as she scrolls through her phone. After my butt becomes unbearably numb, I join her in the living room.
Our competition to see who can stay the quietest the longest rolls over to hour three when she speaks to me again. “Kane said you had no idea that you’re a Banshee?”
Her question throws me through a loop. I contemplate the likelihood of the internet grid crashing or her phone dying. “Hence the reading.”
“I’m surprised no one’s figured you out yet. How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.” She shakes her head. I can’t tell if it’s out of disbelief or if she doesn’t trust what I’m saying. “How old are you?”
“I’m not.” Her answer is followed by a sarcastic snort.
“Excuse me?”
She shakes her head back and forth once more. “Reapers don’t age. We appear the same age that we were when we died. I was eighteen.”
“That’s terrible.” Her eyebrows rise. “That’s such a young age for someone to die.”
As she leans back against the couch, she lets out a laugh. “I had it coming.”
I close the book in my lap. My thoughts start racing with every possible scenario she could’ve been in. How did someone deserve to die at such a young age? She’s barely an adult.
“I got addicted to ludes.” She’s very nonchalant about it. “Did some pretty shady stuff to get them.”
“I’m sorry - ludes?” There’s no denying my confusion. My words drip with it. “Those have been banned for years.”
“No shit,” she says. “I died in 1975. I only started my reaping sentence a couple of years ago.”
Raina would be in her early sixties if she were alive today. Hell, she could be one of my residents. But here she is, not a day over eighteen. Kane, who looks a few years older than me, might actually be hitting 100-years-old.
“Does everyone become a Reaper once they die?”
An amused look flashes across her face. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Not even close.” When I take a page out of her and Kane’s book and don’t reply, she continues on. “Humans that near their time to die are already destined for either Heaven or Hell. Reapers are given a list of souls getting sent to the pits. It’s our job to find them out and collect them. But sometimes things don’t go as planned. The ones that aren’t reaped are considered lost. They get stuck in limbo. They are self-aware, stuck in the same room. No matter what door or window you go though, you end right back in the same spot, like a never ending cycle. It’s pretty maddening really.
“But every once in a while, the devils offers a deal. Collect the marked souls and once our sentence is up, we’re given the chance to start anew.”
“Like reincarnation?” I cut in.
Raina nods. “Exactly like reincarnation. But if we fail, or do something to piss the big guys off, it’s right back to limbo. That, or be completely obliterated.”
“A Reapers job is to kill off people based on a hit list?”
“Not even close,” she bites out, her face cringing like Kane’s. “Reapers are not allowed to harm humans. It’s against the rules. If that was the case, we’d kill as many as we could to get it over with. We are simply there, waiting for the moment a human dies and their soul leaves their body.”
“This is all fucked up,” I concede.
Raina offers a small smile, which quickly fades as the sound of my cell phone echoes throughout the apartment. She stands quicker than I could blink. While she trudges off to my temporary bedroom, I run to the elevator.
“Come on,” I whisper, pressing the button over and over again. To my relief, the doors finally open. But before I can walk through the threshold, a hand grabs my shoulder and forces me backward. I land on the ground, my muscles screaming. I scrapple to stand, but Raina shoves me against the wall before I can get my footing.
“You stupid bitch.” Her breath is hot on my skin. Despite her height, she is more powerful than I could've ever imagined. The interior brick wall digs into my cheek. “Did you really think a simple phone call and you’d be running back home?”
“I-”
Raina pushes me harder into the wall. “If Death didn’t think you were so damn important, I’d end you now. I told Kane this would be a pain in the ass; you aren’t worth the trouble.”
“Just let me go,” I beg. “I didn’t realize I had it. I completely forgot about it.”
I heard the sound of plastic being cracked. Looking down, I see shards of my phone flying across the floor. A phone that I had saved forever for. A phone that I can’t afford to replace.
“Raina! What the fuck are you doing?”
9
Kane
The deep pulse of the music’s bass radiates through my bones. As I finish my cigarette, I can feel the brick wall quivering in time. I texted Quill earlier for him to keep an eye out for a certain patron.
Matthew John Belson
Born on February 26, 1990 at 4:26 am
To die on September 17, 2018 at 9:54 pm
Location of death: Devil’s Playground
Convictions: frequent use of cocaine, nearing alcoholic lifestyle, theft of money and drugs, small time murder<
br />
Reapers aren’t the only things in the mortal world governed by Hell. Demons are sent out to tempt weary people into diving head first in a downward spiral. Each demon is versed in a particular asset that stems from the infamous seven deadly sins. The Devil’s Playground may seem like a bar, but it’s more than that. While humans venture in each night, they are walking into a breeding ground of corruption. And where the souls go, Reapers follow.
I nod at the bouncer as I walk in. He’s human. And much like Singh, he’s paid very well and knows when to keep his mouth shut. Once inside, it takes me a few minutes to adjust to all the dancing lights. People move along with electronic music; sweat glistens off their bodies as they thrash along, packed closely together. I keep to the wall to avoid as much contact as possible. Nearing the bar, Quill sees me and waves me over.
Every person that walks in here probably looks at Quill and sees no harm, but that’s where they’re all mistaken. The curly hair and added pounds around the middle makes him seem average. That’s all part of the plan. Flashing a smile and pretending to make friends with the patrons is all an act. Quill may tend the bar at the Playground, but he’s one tricky bastard.
“Kane,” he extends his hand for me to shake, “you made it.”
He slides me a glass of amber liquid. I down it in one swallow, earning a raised expression from him as he pours.
“The last couple of days have not been the best,” I say, taking the glass from him. I sip at it, savoring the slow burn.
He chuckles. “It’s a good thing we’re stocked up on bourbon, eh?”
Before I can say anything else, business picks up. I watch as he flashes a smile at some, while he small talks the ears off others. All the while, he pours singles as double and feeds into their good time. He’s subtle. It’s taken me years to catch onto his tricks as he takes his gluttonous intuitions and masters them.
That’s the thing about the sin of gluttony. Most think of it as over eating. Don’t get me wrong, I know my fair share of fat stuffers, but there are those that put a creative twist on their gifts. Quill found a way to thrive while pouring his way through drunken mortal after drunken mortal. There are a few Gluttoners that have tricked humans into craving the taste of pottery, or even hair. The most off the wall things can land a soul in Hell, not just killing or stealing. At the end of the day, the higher you climb, the harder you fall.
“What do you think of the set up?” Quill returns to me. My eyes wander throughout the room.
Xi, an Envier, has taken his skillset and veered away from a hands-on approach. He turns a simple building into his weapon. By changing the atmosphere every couple of weeks and tacking on an exclusive invitation list, I’ve watched people do the worst just to get a glimpse inside. One week he’d experiment with a southern hoedown theme and all you’d be able to hear are line dancing cowboy boots. He’d dabble in a gentlemen's club a few weeks later. This time around, Xi took on the gritty underground world of a rave. Neon colors. Strobe lights. Everything.
“It's interesting.”
“You haven’t been around much,” Quill prods.
I down the rest of my drink. “I have enough shit to deal with when it comes to Royce. Don’t get all emotional on me now.”
Quill lets out a shaky breath, but cracks a smile. “Never. Just haven’t seen ya.”
“Been busy,” I tell him, clipping my words. Quill’s face falls.
He and I have an understanding. We respect one another and our positions in this world, but I’m not his buddy. That’s Royce. I’ve been called intimidating and fearsome. I don’t have the patience to deal with other people’s qualms. Quill has seen one too many times what happens when a demon oversteps. Unlike Reapers, once they’ve been killed off, demons can’t be resurrected.
“Yeah. Royce said he had some stuff to take care of - that he’d be gone for a while.”
I slam the glass down on the bar top harder than I intended to. It startles Quill, making him jump. Royce and that fucking mouth of his. Once again, he’s off talking to people about stuff they have no business knowing.
“Easy there, tiger.”
Soft fingertips run along my jaw. Even through the sweat and body odor, I can still make out the gut wrenching scent of her perfume. My head involuntarily turns in her direction.
“Vivian.”
A pout paints her lips. “So formal.”
She’s sex wrapped in fishnets and latex; temptation that even I have faltered to a handful of times. Hell, who am I kidding? I’ve fucked Vivian more times than I can count. She’s a great way to let go of built up tension. The fact that I haven’t touched her in months doesn’t help my temper.
I wrap a piece of teased hair around my fingers. “I’ve never seen this look on you before.” I keep my voice level.
Vivian is a snake. She senses the slightest flicker of vulnerability and attacks with full force - wrapping tighter and tighter until you can no longer breathe. Then she bites.
“I thought you prefer me in nothing,” she whispers. Her tongue runs along the shell of my ear. “Isn’t that right?”
“We all make mistakes.” I shrug.
“You’ll get bored soon enough, Kane.” Her heavily lined eyes stare me down. “You’ll know where to find me when you do.” She walks past me and into the crowd, searching out her next victim.
It doesn’t take much longer for me to spot Belson. He stumbles as he walks to the door, getting angry looks from those he runs into. I reach into my pocket and pull out a bill, leaving it on the bar. I push through the crowd, cursing myself for not paying better attention. “Tego.” I move my legs faster, needing to reach the exit.
When my face hits the cool air outside, Belson’s walking along the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and head tilted up to the sky. By the time he reaches the next crosswalk, I’m able to keep just enough space between us. It’s then that a car comes up through the alley. The driver doesn’t slow, let alone stop. Belson’s body rolls up the hood, his boots pounding against the windshield. He lands on the pavement head first and at just the right angle. The ghastly film of his soul separates from his body before the driver even puts the car in park. “Et portae inferi rum animus manet.”
I don’t stick around for the rest. There’s no reason for me to. Belson’s dead. His soul’s been reaped. And I have a Banshee back at my apartment waiting to be uncaged.
...
I contemplate giving Royce a call, but I’m too damn tired to listen to him drone on and on. When I arrive home, the lights of the loft are still on, illuminating the corner of the building. That doesn’t surprise me. It’s pretty early in the night. What puts me on edge is the fact that the elevator isn’t on the bottom floor. Even if Raina ordered food, it would still be waiting for me.
The scene that I walk into royally pisses me off. Raina has the Banshee pinned up against the brick wall of the kitchen, and something is smashed to pieces on the floor beside them.
“Raina!” I bellow. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
Eleanor nearly collapses when Raina lets her go. She scrambles to the other side of the room; the stench of fear fills the room.
“What am I doing?” Raina bites back. “What the fuck are you doing, Kane? You let her keep her phone. Do you even know the shit storm she could’ve stirred up?”
“Was she on it?” I ask, taking a leap of faith in Eleanor. “Was she calling someone?”
She hesitates for a moment, but shakes her head. “It rang from the other room. Then this bitch,” she points at the Banshee, who has her arms wrapped around herself, “tries taking off.”
Stepping toward Raina, I stare down at her, beyond pissed. At this point, she should be grateful I haven’t reached through and rid her of her heart. “You do not speak to her like that. You will not lay another hand on her. Do you understand?”
Raina stares back at me as she pulls on a brave face. And yet, her trembling chin betrays the emotions clawing at her. “You asked for my hel
p, remember?”
“If it were up to me, you would’ve been the last person I called. But Death has a tight leash they want to maintain. I had to settle for the likes of you.” She winces as my words pierce her skin.
“You’re an imbecile.”
My hand snakes out, wrapping around her throat. Her eyes widen and her hands try prying at mine, but it’s no use. “You’ve seen what I’ve done before, Raina. I will not hesitate to do that again. You will remember that when you’re in my presence. You are nothing to me. Do you understand?”
The skin of her cheeks reddens. She can breathe, but the more she keeps clawing, the more I tighten my hold.
“Kane.”
Eleanor’s faint voice wrecks through my fury; pieces shattering all around me. I glance up. Tears stream down her face. She’s terrified. Looking back at Raina, I bring her face closer to mine. “Do I make myself clear?” She nods.
The moment I loosen my grip, she takes off toward the elevator. I don’t hear what she hollers as the doors close. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter.
I take in several deep breaths, regaining my composure as Eleanor cowers in the corner. “Come here.”
She’s hesitant, and I don’t blame her. But after a moment, she slowly walks over. I brush away her hair, seeing how red and irritated it is from the brick. Aside from that, she seems fine.
“Are you okay?” I ask. She nods, biting at her bottom lip. “That should have never happened. I will ensure nothing like that happens again, okay?”
“Okay.”
I reach out, running my knuckles down the side of her porcelain skin. The fact that it’s now blemished only pisses me off more.
“Why don’t you go clean up? Rest will do you some good.”
She holds my gaze. Those round eyes of hers stare up at me, only making want to take her in my arms. I shove my hands in my pockets to ensure that I don’t.
“Thank you,” she whispers and walks to the bedroom.
Thank you.
She shouldn’t be thanking me. I’m the one that put her in harm’s way.