1 Graveyard Shift

by Angela Roquet

  The Posy Unit got its name during the early years of the Black Plague, when people in Europe began carrying posies of herbs in their pockets, insisting it would save them from the Black Death. Maybe it didn’t save their lives, but it did save a soul or two from being over-looked and stuck on the CNH roster, a list of Currently Not Harvestable souls who can end up waiting as long as two and a half centuries before being found.

  The smell of rotting herbs quickly granted the reapers working the plague a nickname as unoriginal as they come, the Posy Unit. Of course it couldn’t be anything cool or macho, like the Big D Swat Team or Death Merchants United. The Posy Unit didn’t even have a catchy slogan. It wasn’t fair.

  The Recovery Unit: No Grave Too Deep. The Lost Souls Unit: The Haunting Stops Here. The Mother Goose Unit: Because Little Souls Count Too. And the Posy Unit: Bulk Souls at Discounted Prices. It sounded more like an ad Grim would run if he ever decided to open a Death-mart. Why couldn’t it be something like: For all your Genocide and Cult Salvage Needs or For When the Bad Kool-Aid Strikes?

  Maalik bent down at the entertainment center to reassess my John Wayne collection, selecting The Alamo, his new favorite. I was surprised he hadn’t questioned why Horus was pushing higher placement on my behalf. Maybe he was assuming it was because I had delivered more souls to Duat recently. I wasn’t sure if I wanted his opinion on my new side job. I wasn’t sure if I wanted anyone’s opinion just yet. I was screwed no matter how you looked at it. It doesn’t really matter what alter you’re being sacrificed on, it’s gonna sting either way.

  The opening credits of our movie had just begun when the doorbell rang. I turned around on the sofa and raised an eyebrow at the front door.

  “Were you expecting someone else?” Maalik asked.

  “No.” And my regular visitors usually let themselves in.

  Coreen hopped off the couch and raced Saul to the door, pressing her muzzle along the door frame with a series of obnoxious sniffs. Saul’s tail thumped and he sat back on his haunches, waiting to greet our next guest.

  I opened the door a crack and scanned the hall before looking down. Jai Ling, Meng Po’s child soul servant, kneeled before me as she set a small black box on the welcome mat. She looked up and sucked in a startled breath as Saul’s tongue lapped up her forehead. Hiking up her kimono, she gave me a choppy bow and scurried off towards the elevator.

  I looked down at the box. The top had been sealed with a star and crescent moon, the symbol of Islam. So why was Jai Ling delivering it?

  Harold, one of my nephilim neighbors, nearly tripped over the little Chinese girl as he stepped out of the elevator.

  “Bless my feathers!” he huffed. Stepping around her like she was a rabid squirrel and staring down the hall to give me a quizzical frown.

  I snatched up the box and slammed my door.

  “What’s that?” Maalik asked as I joined him on the sofa again.

  “Who knows,” I sighed, snapping through the waxy seal as I yanked the lid off.

  Inside, a copper coin glistened at me, resting on top of a blue, silk scarf and a piece of frilly stationary containing a message I couldn’t read.

  “It’s Arabic,” Maalik announced with a proud smile. He held his hand out. “Want me to translate it for you.”

  I hesitated, trying to decide if I wanted to go through the trouble of learning a new language, and regretfully handed the note to him. He glanced over the random zigs and zags and blushed.

  “It’s from Khadija,” he whispered. “Dearest Lana, I hope this coin is reaching you in joyous times. Soon, my days will be filled with joy as well. Do not regret Grim’s decision to give me Lady Meng’s tea. I will willingly drink it. My successor has requested a visit from you. I know Grim would not approve, but a soul in his position deserves much more than this simple request. Stand to the west of Coreen’s memorial statue and use his second name. There you will find him. Keep faith, and never forget how truly special you are. Peace be with you, K.”

  Maalik looked up at me and frowned. “I don’t know, Lana.”

  I swiped the letter from him and stuffed it back in the box with the scarf and coin. “Maalik, I don’t want to think or talk about anything that’s happened in the last week. I just want to watch John Wayne kick some ass. Can we please?”

  I set the box on the floor and kicked it under the couch with my heel, mentally fitting a Winston visit into my Friday schedule, somewhere between breakfast and going to Hell. I would have to fit in another trip to Flora’s Power Flowers too. Asking Grim to give back the stuffed tiger would look a little suspicious. I didn’t need him switching Winston’s access location before I even got a chance to see him.

  “Sure.” Maalik gave me a strained smile and wrapped his arm around my shoulders before hitting the play button again.

  Chapter 32

  “They say that God is everywhere,

  and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.”

  -Emily Dickinson

  The park had an ethereal feel to it on Halloween morning. Zimble had definitely perfected the art of fog. A soft swirl of clouds rode a breeze around the fountains and trees and settled in a haunting puddle under Saul and Coreen’s bronze statues. A pair of dusty crows stabbed at the ground with their beaks. The morning light stained everything a sallow gray, giving the world a dreamy haze.

  I pulled the hood of my robe up and stepped out from behind the shade of a knotty oak. The fact that Khadija’s letter had encouraged me to visit Winston didn’t make the reality of it feel any less stupid. I surveyed the park one last time to be sure no one had followed me and ducked into the shadow of Coreen’s statue.

  The note had said to use Winston’s second name. I was guessing that meant his last name, Gale. If it meant his middle name, a nickname, or a past life name, I was going to end up looking like an asylum escapee, arguing with Coreen’s memorial statue.

  I pulled out my coin and crossed my fingers. “Gale.”

  The same strange wind that had accompanied my visit to Khadija descended on the park, momentarily dispersing the haunting fog and kicking up the golden leaves littering the sidewalks.

  The statue faded away, and a familiar cottage came into view. I half expected to find Khadija waiting for me. I didn’t want to believe she was gone. How could she have drunk Meng’s tea? I could understand why Grim would want her too, but why would she want to? There were so many questions I’d never have the chance to ask her now.

  I stepped up to the cottage door and reached to knock, nearly falling off the stoop when the door sprang open, revealing a broad-shouldered Egyptian man.

  “Uh?” I held the stuffed tiger up in front of me, wishing it were real and a bit larger. Maybe I should have brought Saul and Coreen.

  The man gawked at me, looking about as startled as I felt. Then he glanced down at the tiger clutched in my hands. A grin seized his face as he let out a melodious laugh. “Lana, I’m so glad you made it.”

  “Winston?” I took a step back and gave him a scrutinizing frown. “You’re.... taller?”

  “And darker.” He stretched his arms out to admire them. “And stronger,” he said, flexing.

  “But you still remember me?”

  “The hood threw me off. Maybe you should come inside.” Winston opened the door and squinted over the front lawn like snipers were moving in on us. Once we were safely inside the main sanctuary, his friendly smile returned, a shadow of his former self. Or future self, if you wanted to get technical.

  “Is that for me?” He pointed at the stuffed tiger, still dangling in my grip, and laughed again.

  “It was.” I blushed and tucked the animal under my arm.

  “Well, can I have it?”

  “Sure, I guess.” I frowned.

  He took the tiger and gave it a loving squeeze. “I’ll make sure Grim doesn’t find it. He’d probably shit a pineapple if he knew you were here.”

  “He’d do a little more than that, I’m afraid.” I sighed
and shook my head. “How did you, I mean, you obviously drank Meng’s tea, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Winston grinned and pulled on the tiger’s tail, a habit that had survived the tea along with his memory, apparently.

  “I thought the tea was supposed to peel back past lives and make you forget them.” I pushed back the hood of my robe and rubbed a hand over the back of my neck.

  “It does, unless you’re initiated onto the throne of Eternity before drinking it.”

  “Huh?”

  Winston dropped the tiger on a shelf behind him and led me over to a small table set with tea. The silk curtains that had been hanging from the ceiling were gone, leaving the mother of all chandeliers to fill the lonely space.

  “When Khadija turned her power over to me, not even Meng’s tea was strong enough to shake my past lives.” Winston dropped down on the couch and lifted a teacup. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t do tea.”

  “It’s Pepsi.” He took a sip and laughed. “I haven’t exactly told Grim how much I remember and how much I don’t. Honestly, I don’t like the guy, but I told you I’d take the job.”

  “Sorry, I would have explained everything better if we had had more time.” I sat down beside him and picked up a teacup to sniff its contents.

  “I don’t mind the work so much.” Winston crossed an ankle over his knee and stretched his arms back along the top of the sofa cushions. He looked happily at home. “Grim could be a little nicer with his requests though. I mean, come on, I’m the man. Don’t I deserve a little respect? Maybe some groveling?”

  “You’re letting this go to your head awfully fast, aren’t you?” I laughed and sipped at my dainty cup of soda.

  “I know, I know,” Winston sighed. “But hey, I did take care of a demon you’re looking for. What was his name, Varren?”

  “How do you know about him?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  “I know all sorts of things.” He wagged an eyebrow at me. “And I read the paper too.” He tossed the Daily Reaper Report at me and shrugged. “I never imagined the afterlife would have its own newspaper.”

  “Why shouldn’t we?” I glanced over the headlines and quickly dove into an article detailing the destruction of a secret island where nearly eight thousand demons were drowned in holy water. The demons were listed alphabetically, in reverse. Varren was near the top of the list. At least I didn’t have to worry about scheduling him in on top of school and my new job.

  “Pretty impressive, don’t you think?” Winston leaned over my shoulder. “Of course, the credit must go to Holly Spirit. She donated the Holy Water. Did you know she has it on tap at the Holly House?”

  “I knew it was in the fountain out front. Wait a minute.” I turned to frown at him. “Does Grim know you go out gallivanting around Limbo City?”

  “Don’t look at me like that. You know I’m being careful.”

  “I sure hope so. If you go missing, do you know what could happen to Eternity?”

  “Duh.” The kid Winston was still alive and well. But it was still a little unsettling talking to him in a different body.

  “How often does Grim stop in to check on you?” I know, I sounded like a frantic parent, ready to alert the press about a negligent daycare.

  “Enough,” Winston groaned. “So far, he’s come in around six in the morning, right before heading to the office, and then again around eight in the evening. He stays for ten minutes, barking orders the whole time. The jerk doesn’t even laugh at my jokes.”

  “If I laugh at your jokes, will you promise to stay here while I’m gone this weekend?”

  “And miss the parade?” He threw his legs up on the tea table, rattling the dishes with a disheartened grunt.

  “I’ll bring you back a souvenir from Hell,” I bribed.

  “Hell? That’s right. I almost forgot.” He grinned. “Get me one of those horned masks, so I can go out in disguise.”

  “And you’ll stay put this weekend?” I folded my arms, wondering just how much personal information had been bestowed upon him by his newly acquired powers.

  “Yeah, I’ll stay put. I’m sure I can find a few scary movies to keep me occupied.” He stuck his hand in between the couch cushions and retrieved a remote control. “A satellite receiver was one of my first requests.” He grinned and flicked on a theatre-sized widescreen that filled the room with booming surround sound. “Tell me I don’t rule,” he smirked.

  I sighed and gave him a pat on the shoulder before leaving the cottage. Varren was off my list, but it didn’t seem to matter much now. Winston was going to be a handful. And I wasn’t even getting paid to watch his back. I was suddenly thankful reapers couldn’t have children. I just wasn’t cut out for this sort of worry.

  Chapter 33

  “Slow but sure

  moves the might of the gods.”

  -Euripides

  “Blast it all!” I wailed as I dropped the edge of my travel trunk on my big toe. Why had I decided to wear flip flops instead of my new boots?

  Gabriel soared up beside me and lifted the trunk by one handle, turning it on its side. “I got it.”

  “So much for folding everything,” I grumbled.

  Trumpets sounded as Limbo City’s eclectic marching band of souls and nephilim came to the end of Morte Avenue and curled around Market Street. The Olympus Ballet trailed behind them, swishing their sequined costumes, all hand-made by Athena, who was regretfully attending Samhain in Summerland. A dozen Draculas on miniature motor bikes zipped around the ballerinas.

  I sighed and draped my arms over the ship railing. Everyone was packed and present, except Maalik. Dating a council member was not turning out to be much of a picnic.

  Josie and Kevin had shown up in matching tee shirts and quickly disappeared into the captain’s quarters after shooing out Saul and Coreen who were furiously disassembling a stuffed frog I had picked up at Flora’s. Even Gabriel and Amy, the Romeo and Juliet of Eternity, were having a blissful time, canoodling around the deck hand in hand.

  I looked down at the flowery cocktail dress I had stupidly decided to wear and shivered. It was perfect for Hell’s weather.... and a perfect excuse for Maalik to snuggle up to me, if he ever showed up.

  “What’s wrong with those people?” Maalik shouted to me as he flew over the harbor, cradling a canvas bag the shape and size of a typical soldier’s pack.

  I laughed and popped a hand on my hip. “It’s called a parade. Now I know you have those in Hell.”

  Maalik’s eyebrows twitched inward as he landed on the deck. “I didn’t get out much in Hell. My work schedule kept me pretty busy.”

  “I would say so,” Gabriel huffed behind me. “I haven’t packed one of those things in a long time. You need Lana to take you luggage shopping when you get back.”

  “What’s wrong with my bag?” Maalik frowned at the lumpy sack in his arms.

  “Nothing,” Gabriel smirked. “If you don’t mind ironing everything before you wear it again.”

  Maalik shrugged.

  The parade was finally winding down. Two Hindu deities on stilts blew bubbles over the cheering souls crowded down the sidewalks. Behind the four-armed clowns, a frilly float sporting a huge inflatable skeleton signaled the end of the parade. A gust of wind swept up the skeleton’s arms, sending its Styrofoam scythe up in a menacing pose.

  I fixed my stare over the gasping souls, hoping I wouldn’t find Winston among them. He was stronger than Khadija, but it would have been nice if she had given him a little more of her modesty and simple wisdom, and not just raw power and nosy insight.

  “All ready?” Josie rested an arm on the railing beside me and blushed as I made another face at her “Now where did I put that handbasket?” tee shirt.

  “Finally,” I sighed and leaned around her to watch Gabriel drag Maalik off to the guest cabin, giving him a thorough tour of our ship.

  “Cut him a little slack. He is on the council.” Josie turned he
r back on Limbo City as it drifted further away.

  Kevin was determined not to get seasick this time, and he had even volunteered to man the ship all the way to Hell. It felt almost naughty, traveling the sea without any souls or having to do any of the navigating. Maybe being a mentor wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “Do me a favor, would you?” I turned to Josie.

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t remind me about school until we get back.”

  “I won’t, if you promise not to cut class this time.”

  “That was for Saul’s memorial.”

  “And what about the three months after that?” Josie scoffed.

  “I was in mourning.”

  “At Purgatory Lounge?” She nudged my shoulder with hers. “I mean it, Lana. No slacking this time.”

  “I won’t,” I sighed. “I can’t. You’re not going to believe this, but I think I’m up for another promotion.”

  “Shut up.” Josie gave me one her disbelieving stares and stepped back to throw her hands up in a frustrated eruption. “Please tell me it’s a normal job offer this time and not some suicide mission that will attract more demons than an Ouija board convention.”

  “It’s not in stone yet, but I think I’ll be working with the Posy Unit next year.”

  “Oh.” Josie tilted her head with a thoughtful frown. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “I guess not.”

  Fireworks exploded behind us over Limbo City, now a tiny sliver drenched in fog.

  Josie rubbed a hand over my back. “Then shouldn’t you be happier right now?”

  Yeah, I should have been happier. But I was leaving Winston unattended, Horus’s bracelets were stashed in a shoebox in my closet, and I had already begun the dreaded countdown of days until I would be sitting in a stuffy classroom with Craig Hogan, of all people. Hell was just what I needed right now, the Vegas of Eternity.