A Reaper Made

by Liz Long

  Tessa ignored me. “But it’s the same thing every single day from then until eternity. I’ll be making potions and healing wounds and casting spells forever. Sometimes I just wonder if that’s all there is.”

  I gave her a bewildered look. “All there is? At least you’re still sort of human! Potions and magic, you can do whatever you want. No day has to be the same for you. I’m a Reaper - literally, what I do is all there is for me. Some drunk idiot killed me and now I’m going to be a soul-collecting ghost until the end of time. I’m even stuck in bright pink nursing scrubs for eternity.”

  Tessa’s eyes widened as I ranted, my voice growing louder and angrier with each word. Reapers didn’t complain or explode. At least, no others Reapers did. My emotions always felt like they were at the surface; Tully said it was normal for the first decade, but perhaps being a teenage girl forever added a little oomph to the burn.

  “Grace, whoa, sorry. I thought Reapers were great therapists because of their emotionless logic. I was only bending an ear, I didn’t know it’d hit a nerve or seven.”

  I caught my breath. “No, I’m sorry. That was not very professional of me. Get back to me in a few decades and I should have it under control.”

  Tessa chuckled in her good-natured way. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Tully.”

  We shared a grin. Tessa thought Tully was nice enough, but incredibly uptight. If you asked me, had Tully been human, he might’ve been sweet on Tess. He never scolded or rolled his eyes at her the way he did with me. She always waved me off when I teased her.

  “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what I do,” I told her. “I’m not bored, not the way you describe. I guess it’s more that I still have my humanity and that makes me different from other Reapers.”

  Tessa’s brow furrowed. “You don’t want your humanity?”

  “Yes - I mean, no - I don’t know,” I said, shoulders slumping as I looked down at my lap. “I’m still pretty new. Mades aren’t good enough like the Trues, you know what I mean?”

  She wrinkled a brow, puzzled. “There’s no hierarchy.”

  “No, we’re all equal in the eyes of most, except each other. Even Tully still gets crap from Trues, and he’s been around for like, what, two centuries now?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  I played with the fringe on a couch pillow, not looking at Tessa. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “I’m an open spell book.”

  “How did you and Tully meet? I mean…he introduced us knowing we’d hit it off, but that’s all I know.” After a long moment, I glanced up to see Tessa’s lips twitch with amusement.

  “Tully tried to reap my soul.”

  My jaw dropped. “What?”

  She laughed at my expression. “Here’s your brief history lesson of the day. I wasn’t around when Salem and their Puritans went after so-called witches, but you know they got their ideas from the Europeans, right?”

  “Makes sense, we all migrated from that direction.”

  Tessa nodded. “And so did their ideas of how to kill those who were different from them. Man, those guys loved a good stoning.”

  My brow furrowed. “I thought tons of witches died in Salem by fire.”

  She shook her head. “No fire and not as many as you think. Only twenty, one of them crushed to death by stones and the others hanged. Others died in prison. Europe, however, was a little bitchier about the whole witch thing. They burned people at the stake. I was minding my own business, living in Northern Europe in, I dunno, 1740-something? This guy - claimed he was some traveler, but I suspect he was a witch-hunter - caught me performing magic and turned me into the witch police, aka the Christians.”

  I couldn’t help but be enthralled by her history lesson, having never heard it. As a kid of the modern era, it was hard to believe that sort of persecution had existed. I leaned forward as she spoke.

  “After those stupid pilgrims thought they burned me alive, I had to wait it out so they’d leave. Pain in the ass, really - the fire destroyed my clothes, so hanging around on that post naked wasn’t exactly comfortable.” Tessa rolled her eyes and I smothered a grin.

  “Where does Tully come in?” I asked.

  A smile played on the corners of her mouth. “Well, it’d been a while since I’d slept, so I dozed off while biding my time. I woke up to find that damned Irish ginger in front of me, surprised as hell. I tried to keep my cool because I thought he’d come to cut my throat, but he assured me murder wasn’t his style.”

  “But we sort of get that pull when souls are ready to leave this plane, how did he not realize you weren’t dead?”

  Tessa shrugged. “He said he’d been walking through the area and saw the fire dying out around me, thought there was no way I could’ve survived. He’d only been around for like five years at that point, so I guess he didn’t realize witches don’t have that little dying problem.”

  “Or that witches even existed,” I surmised.

  She paused long enough to smirk. “He tried to disappear on me; when I could still see him, he revealed his Reaper status and I told him the truth. He had the gall to suggest witches had no souls.”

  “He’s pretty old-school,” I said, almost apologetically. It didn’t surprise me that Tully would say such a thing. He was a great Reaper, sensitive to passing souls, but his blunt personality could sometimes, at least the way I saw it, be taken as rude.

  “In any case, I gave him a hard time about it. He was the first Reaper I’d met and after he cut me down, we became pals. Or at least the closest thing to pals Reapers can have.”

  I snorted. Tully didn’t have “pals.” He barely had acquaintances. I mean, I barely knew a thing about him and I’d been his mentee for the last three years.

  Tully was one of the most serious people I’d ever met, even after I kicked the bucket. He’d died in 1740 from an Irish famine; I’d never prodded, but got the feeling his family had died around the same time as well. Once, when I asked about his own mentor, he’d pursed his lips beneath that bushy beard and said he’d rather not discuss it. I’d kept the personal questions to myself after that.

  “You wanna watch a movie or something?” Tessa asked.

  Before Tessa and I could decide on romance or comedy, a knock sounded at her front door. She went to open it and found Tully patiently waiting.

  “We were just talking about you,” Tessa told him. “Ears burning?”

  He gave her the side eye, choosing to ignore her statement and instead greet her as usual.

  “You knock on doors when you can just teleport anywhere?” I asked him as he walked into the living room.

  “Some people are polite,” Tessa mumbled under her breath. I stuck my tongue out at her and Tully sighed. I braced myself for the usual reprimand and wasn’t disappointed.

  “What have I told you about maintaining composure, child?” he asked.

  I grimaced. He was a stickler for rules, far worse than any doctor or teacher I’d learned from in life. He never hesitated to correct my errors. In fact, he was doing it right now.

  “You’re off daydreaming again, aren’t you?” Tully asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “Only a little bit,” I responded, keeping a straight face when Tessa laughed. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “If you’d care to listen, you’d know,” Tully said, his tone a bit frosty. I managed an apologetic expression; he waved a hand at me as he leaned against the doorway. “I need to meet up with someone at the bar. I wanted to know if Tessa would accompany me.”

  The “bar” Tully referred to was Luther’s, a well-known otherworldly operation frequented by the supernatural world. The only one of its kind, it catered to all those in our world, provided they could keep it civil. I’d only visited once, when I’d first become a Reaper, as Tully frowned upon too many visitations. Reapers couldn’t get drunk and didn’t really do crowds. It would look odd, perhaps even suspicious, if we visited too many times.

  Tessa
lit up at Tully’s request for her company. “Really?”

  “Why can’t I go?” I asked with a pout.

  Tully huffed. “I had assumed you’d be at the nursing home, but since you are here, you are more than welcome to accompany us.”

  I brightened. “Oh, cool. Count me in.”

  Tessa gave Tully a wary look. “Wait a second there, Reaper. Why do you need me?”

  Tully shrugged. “I could use a witch.”

  “Because?”

  “Because it is good practice to watch thyself in such an establishment,” Tully replied, his tone clear that it would be the end of the discussion. “If you are otherwise occupied, I will understand.”

  “No, it’s fine, I’ll go,” Tessa said quickly, shooting a look at me. Tully didn’t ask for favors, so the fact he might need a witch was strange enough to tag along.

  “When do we leave?” I asked.

  “Now,” he answered. Without another word, he disappeared from his spot, using his Reaper power to teleport to the parking lot outside the bar.

  Tessa huffed at his manners and I gave her a knowing look. We said nothing, but gave each other a nod as she went into the back room where she would use magic to teleport. Tully and I could travel in an instant, but a solid-bodied witch didn’t have that type of power. She’d need to use her own version of a secret passageway.

  I closed my eyes and thought of Luther’s, focusing on bringing my spirit into that spot. When I opened them again, Tully stood next to me, patiently waiting for Tessa to arrive. Barely a minute later, Tessa popped into existence, the glow of magic fading from her skin. She holstered her bag on her shoulder, the magical contents clinking with the movement.

  “Okay, Reaper, lead the way,” she said to him.

  Tully did as instructed and we followed him into the supernatural bar.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  We stepped into the establishment, navigating our way around tables and chairs to a booth in the back corner. With low lights and glowing red candles, my eyes had to adjust to the darkness. Tessa received a few hellos and whistles, while Tully ignored everyone, clearly on a mission. I wouldn’t know anyone here and instead kept right on Tully’s heels, eager to find out why he’d come.

  The three of us sat at the scarred wooden table, Tessa and I sitting across from the Irish Reaper. Tully sat patiently, waving a hand at the waitress making rounds. The thin brunette came over to us, popping gum and looking as though she’d rather be anywhere but here.

  “Yeah?” she asked.

  “Whiskey,” Tully requested.

  “And for you girls?” she asked in a bored voice.

  “White Russian,” Tessa replied.

  “Nothing for me, thanks,” I said.

  The waitress raised a hand, waving it over our table. The requested beverages appeared in front of us and I blinked at the witchy waitress. Tully plunked down a few dollars stashed in his pocket. The waitress snatched them up and took off to her next customers.

  “Where’d you get cash?” I asked in surprise.

  He frowned at my question. “Not that it is any of your business, but occasionally Reapers are granted stipends upon request.”

  I didn’t even know what that meant, but I could tell he wasn’t going to elaborate. My mouth twitched. “You know she took way more than was needed, right?”

  Tully sighed. “American currency makes little sense to me.”

  “So who are we meeting?” Tessa asked over her milky white drink.

  “His name is Rhys and he’s a shifter,” he said.

  Tessa’s upper lip curled back. “A shifter? What’s he want?”

  I hid a smile. I knew from one of her previous relationships that shifters weren’t high on her list of favorite people.

  “It’s what I want from him,” Tully said, tapping his finger against his whiskey glass. “I need some information.”

  “On?”

  “A hunch,” Tully said flatly. He turned his head to look for his expected companion.

  Tessa’s face remained neutral, used to Tully’s mystery, but I couldn’t stand the suspense. I leaned forward to get his attention back on us.

  “You know we’re going to find out, right? I mean, you invited us here, you might as well tell us why,” I said.

  “All in good time, child,” he said, finally meeting my eyes. His thick fingers scratched at the wiry red beard on his face. “I’d rather explain it only once, if you can dare to be patient.”

  I sat back in a huff, arms crossed over my chest. A flicker of a smile flashed across Tully’s face; he knew patience was not a virtue of mine.

  “Do you sense any magic in here, Tessa?” Tully asked.

  The witch took a deep breath, smelling the air. Her brown eyes floated from face to face, looking at their auras. After a long moment, she shook her head. “Nope, not besides a couple of the waitresses. Just the usual scoundrels and alcoholics.”

  Tully sat back against the fake leather of his seat, satisfied for the time being. The three of us sat in silence and I took the opportunity to glance around.

  Luther’s was dark and smoky, the shadows shifting as their owners got comfortable. Music played in the background while murmurs of conversation floated between the tables. Supernatural beings (supes) knew they were safe here; no dark magic or demons were allowed. Anyone else, however, was welcome to spend their money here, including the two vampires at the bar, a suspiciously hairy guy to the far right, and several others who appeared human but I knew would be anything but.

  Inside Luther’s everyone got along, no matter how many of us went bump in the night. Tully said it was actually humans with their fairy tales and bedtime stories that made people think supes couldn’t get along. Like that old vampire versus werewolf stigma - provided they stuck to their own territories and didn’t attack each other, they had no beef. They were happy to ignore each other, while other supes got along just fine. We all knew that demons were the ones to fear.

  A voice snapped me out of my people-watching. “Didn’t think you’d actually come, Tully.”

  “Why is that?” Tully asked the tall shadow in front of us.

  The voice became clearer as its owner stepped in front of us. “Reapers don’t spend a lot of time in bars.”

  I looked up to see him standing at our table, a handsome man that had plenty of eyes following him to our table. The brown bomber jacket and navy henley shirt couldn’t hide his broad shoulders and chest. His dark hair fell in a neat sweep, trimmed on the sides and just tousled enough to be fashionable. Dark eyes flashed beneath his brows as he scanned the room over his shoulder. I was surprised at his good looks; most shifters chose not to stand out in crowds, instead choosing average and forgettable appearances. This guy would catch attention standing next to movie stars.

  “Rhys,” Tully greeted him. “Have a seat.”

  Rhys had already caught the waitress, a cold beer bottle in his left hand. He slid into the booth next to my mentor. He gave me a nod, but his eyes lingered on Tessa. “Hi there.”

  She bobbed her head in greeting, more interested in the why than the who. “Hey.”

  Rhys looked at Tully, motioning to Tessa. “How come you didn’t tell me about her?”

  “I did,” Tully said, his reply short, “she is the witch.”

  “Usually when they’re her age, they’re covered in warts,” Rhys said.

  Tessa’s brown eyes narrowed over her drink. “Keep your comments to yourself and your tongue will stay in that shifty mouth.”

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing, used to Tessa’s aggressive stance to strange men, supernatural or otherwise. Tessa had been around long enough not to trust just anyone, especially someone who could change their appearance at will. Rhys grinned at her, taking no offense at her statement. Talk about a heartthrob; his straight white teeth would’ve dazzled me had I been a living teenager.

  “Thank you for meeting me here,” Tully said, bringing us back to the topic at hand. “If you don’
t mind, I would like to dive right into why I needed to speak with you.”

  “By all means,” Rhys said, his face becoming businesslike. “Did you bring what we discussed?”

  Tully gave him a sharp nod, passed a blank yellow envelope to the shifter. I hadn’t even raised an eyebrow before Rhys slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. I didn’t miss Tessa’s nudge to my leg as we both wondered what was in that envelope. It wasn’t like Tully to make sketchy deals; doubt began to build in my chest. Tully didn’t see my worried expression.

  “What did you find out?” Tully asked, his voice so low we had to lean in to hear him.

  Rhys shifted so that his back was to the outside of the booth to prevent outside listeners. His eyes flicked to us and back to Tully.

  “It’s what you suspected,” he said. “Souls aren’t passing over. Half the state’s been deposed of Reapers and no one’s got a clue as to where they went.”

  A gasp escaped me; I hadn’t known what to expect but that certainly hadn’t been it. Tully shot me an annoyed look before turning back to Rhys. Tully looked, for lack of a better word, puzzled. I’d never seen his face so curious or lost.

  “Are you certain? I have noticed there are more living than not as of late,” he said. “Souls are not crossing over the way they should.”

  “Couldn’t that be an overpopulation problem?” I asked, my eyes going back and forth on the men. “You know, make more Reapers and solve the problem?”

  Rhys shook his head. “My girl ‘H’ is a solid resource. Says there’s been rumblings of a magical entity, something outside of the usual stuff. Could be someone’s harnessing power.”