by Skyler Andra
Mr. Parsons blinked as if insulted. “I wouldn’t punch them.”
“Well, I just had to check,” I assured, my voice only shaking a little.
“They likely won’t be able to see you,” the man muttered with just enough hesitation in his voice, causing me to look at him curiously.
Mr. Parsons glared at him, clearly indicating the stranger’s opinion wasn’t welcome.
“Excellent,” I said, clapping my hands together, even though I didn’t really know what I was doing. I just had to act before Mr. Parsons got angrier. “Glad we got that sorted.”
The dead man’s harsh scowl softened.
“All right, Mr. Parsons,” I prompted. “Promise that you’re just going to look? Don’t… don’t do anything.”
For a moment, I thought he might try to take a swing at me too by the harsh lines cutting across his face. The man at my side must have feared the same because he stepped in front of me.
But Mr. Parsons only nodded with a melancholy that stole my breath. “It’s only that I already miss them. I worry about them so much sometimes.”
It took everything I had not to reach out to pat his shoulder. “Oh, I know how that is. Come on. This way.”
I led my strange little procession up the stairs, our footsteps the only sound slicing through the silence.
I decided to throw in a little pun to lighten the tension. “Hey Mr. Parsons. What do you call two flowers who are dating?”
“What?” He turned to look at me like I’d sprouted rose thorns on my forehead.
“A budding romance,” I answered when no one offered a response and the stranger sighed behind me. “Get it?”
“No,” the ghost replied.
Tough crowd. Real tough crowd. Mr. Parsons was definitely a serious man. Definitely a principal or something.
Thankfully, we arrived at the public area where more guests had arrived for his funeral, letting my puns and I off the hook. Good thing too, because I was really scratching for another good one.
The guests all ignored me, and I had no idea if they could see my companions at all. Hopefully they couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin a funeral and have Mr. Cotterly on the phone to Pearl complaining about me. After this strange event, I just wanted to make Mr. Parsons happy, let the reaper escort him away, and then be off towards home without a hitch. Gardening shows and a hot stew were calling my name.
Instead of heading to the main doors that led to the viewing room, I took Mr. Parsons through the service door close to the front of the building where we could watch without having people pass in and out all the time.
He stood there, still as a statue for a long moment, before he pointed to the woman who had come in for the flowers. “God, she’s so pretty. I mean, I thought she was pretty when I married her. Then she got prettier every year we were together. Maddie, my daughter, is like that too you know. She doesn’t see it, but she will. Smart too, smarter than me or her mother.”
“Aw, she sounds great,” I murmured, my heart pinching at both the pride and sorrow in his tone.
The deceased pointed to an older man with a frown. “Glenn’s going to keep that chainsaw I loaned him. Such a dick.”
I stifled a laugh, but the man in black recovered enough to make an impatient sound. Geez, he was a strict one wasn’t he? Perhaps he had a roll call of another three hundred souls to collect before the end of the day. I’d probably be impatient too if I were in his shoes. Glad I didn’t have his job.
“This is unnecessary and unseemly,” he started, but I shushed him.
“I don’t have anywhere to be,” I snapped defensively. “He can talk as long as he likes. After this, he might not see them again. Have a heart.”
The stranger frowned at this. He clearly wasn’t used to being spoken back to. I guess he didn’t encounter many humans who could interact with him. Well, this was a first for me too. I’d never met a ghost or a reaper before today. An uneasiness churned in my stomach at the thought of this being out of the ordinary for both of us.
I turned my attention back to Mr. Parsons, who pointed out his niece who always sent a card on his birthday and Christmas, the brother he never got on with, and the one he actually liked. A lifetime of connections and affections filled that room, bringing a gloomy smile to my lips.
“They’re all so wonderful,” he voiced a little sadly. My heart wrenched for him again. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
“They are,” I agreed, watching him as he turned to me with a smile.
“Thank you,” he said. “Such a kind young lady, unlike some.” The last part was directed toward the stranger.
Speaking of tall, dark, and broody, he was tapping his foot with increasing impatience, striking me as the kind of man who wasn’t used to not getting his way.
“All right. Can we please get on with–”
He was cut off again when Mr. Parsons put his arms around me, hugging me tightly.
“And thank you too, dear,” he whispered. “That was you coming in with the flowers, yes? I remember that. They are beautiful, just beautiful.”
“Don’t!” The man in the suit raised his voice, but we ignored him.
I hugged the deceased back, smiling. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Parsons.”
When I let him go, the stranger touched him lightly on the arm and Mr. Parsons faded away, leaving me with a sensation like sugar on my tongue and a vague feeling of calm sadness and ease.
For the second time this morning, I stumbled backward, this time hitting a wall. I was so glad I had it to hold me up since my legs were about to give way. This was all just too weird.
I glanced up at the man in the suit a few paces in front of me. While I still might be willing to chalk everything up to a very vivid hallucination or a really weird waking dream, it seemed as if the entire incident was over. All I wanted was to get home for the stew I planned to make and to put this whole situation behind me. Maybe I’d book myself to see the doctor next week and get my health checked to see if I was going mad.
On my way out of the viewing room, I passed Glenn, who was seated on the end of a row of chairs.
“Perhaps you should return the borrowed chainsaw,” I suggested, to which he responded by staring at me with his mouth open.
Content with my efforts, I snuck out of the funeral home and made my way back to the van.
What a weird day, I thought, vaguely surprised that I was barely at Cotterly’s for more than an hour. I wasn’t sure whether to reevaluate my entire worldview, register myself in a psyche ward, or take a nap.
I swung myself up into the seat of Pearl’s van and stuck the keys in the ignition before I realized I wasn’t alone. The good-looking guy in the expensive suit was sitting in the passenger’s seat staring at me, almost eating me alive with those gorgeous dark eyes of his.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Junipers!” I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. When my breath returned, I added, “Anyone ever taught you not to sneak up on a person?”
“No,” he answered earnestly.
What kind of game was he playing? “What do you want to talk about?”
“Not here.” He flicked his forefinger and stared forward, acting like I was nothing more than his chauffeur.
Chapter 5
Autumn
Fine. So I took him to Mama Tickey’s, a diner infamous for its cheap pancakes, endless eggs, and the policy that almost anything could be slathered in butter and fried on a griddle. At some point, a bigger diner chain should have shouldered the restaurant out. However, through a combination of clever marketing and relentlessly cheap food, the diner survived, and so we were able to go over there between meal hours, snag a booth, and get some food.
“I’ll have the fried mozzarella sticks and a can of Fanta please,” I told the waitress, breaking my vegan diet. What? Call me a part-time vegan then. The mozzarella sticks were award winning, okay. No one, including this vegan with a weak will power for cheese, could resist the
call of them.
“Coming right up.” The waitress tucked her pen behind her ear and walked away.
“Wait,” I said, turning around. “Don’t you want anything?” I asked tall, dark, and broody.
“Nothing, thank you.” He waved her away with his hand, obviously accustomed to telling people what to do.
I shrugged at her. “His loss,” I said with a smile before her eyes widened, she mouthed okay and wandered to the kitchen.
Err… did she not see him? My gaze jumped between the stranger and the waitress. I scratched at my cheek. Was I really the only one who could see the reaper? Guess this wasn’t any stranger than the events back at the funeral home.
He stared at me with a combination of confusion and vague outrage. Maybe another flower pun would disarm him too. Or lighten the mood. They usually got a lot of laughs with my friends. Or maybe those were supportive laughs—you know the ones, laughing at me, not with me.
“So what do I call you?” I asked, sticking the menu between the salt and peppershakers.
“By all rights, you shouldn’t call me anything.” He frowned at me.
I chased away the confused stares of other patrons, watching me by sending them pointed gazes. It seemed like the waitress hadn’t seen him, so perhaps the customers didn’t either. They just thought me to be a crazy coot talking to myself. Hmmm, nothing unusual there.
In that suit, the stranger came across as a significantly more affluent person than those who usually came into a place like Mama Tickey’s. He looked at least marginally aware of the fact that he was out of place—not for his clothes though—for interacting with a human. But he didn’t look like he was used to being, well, bothered.
I reclined against the leatherette booth. “Okay, but it’s going to get awkward if all I can do is call you what I’ve been calling you in my head.”
Curious, he leaned forward. “What’s that?”
I tossed up whether to lead with reaper or tall, dark, and broody. In the end, the latter won out, because well, he needed to lighten up a little and I thought the compliment might do the trick.
“Oh, you know.” I waved my hand. “Stranger, weird, tall-dark-broody-and-handsome,” my voice teasing, but the last word popped out like a cork from a bottle of champagne, and once it was out there was no calling it back.
He blinked at me, expression softening just a little. “You think I’m handsome?”
Uhhh… I wish he wouldn’t say that. I twisted my head to watch the service counter, hoping he’d miss the blush on my cheeks if the tan of my skin couldn’t hide it. I mean, I did spend a good amount of time outdoors, hiking, working in the community garden, and mountain biking.
“Well, sure,” I replied casually. “People should be told how good they look as long as it doesn’t make them uncomfortable.”
“I don’t care how other people think I look,” he said.
I didn’t tell him that I didn’t believe that at all. If he really didn’t care, he wouldn’t be wearing that suit or looking anything like the way he did.
“Still doesn’t tell me what to call you,” I reminded, fishing for a name. I was a pro at this game. We could keep it up all afternoon. Didn’t bother me at all. It meant more fried mozzarella sticks for me. “Do you want me to give you a name? Like an alias from a spy movie.”
I knew that I sounded ridiculous and flirty as all hell, but the truth was that ever since I met this guy, it felt as if everything had shifted. When he touched me, it sent me into freefall. And if I were honest with myself, I was still spinning through space, reaching for handholds that didn’t seem to exist because the only thing—the only person—whom I wanted to reach for, was the man sitting across from me.
“Please don’t give me a name,” he said. “I’m not a dog that you found in a lot.”
Touchy. He was grouchy and definitely not a flirter, but I didn’t give up that easily. “So…?”
He stared at the table as if he was sorting through a number of options, and I didn’t blame him. People should be called what they want to be called. It did, however, make me wonder why he thought he had to avoid telling me his name.
Finally, he shrugged and gave me one: “Hades.”
“Oh.” I kept my face utterly schooled. “That’s… sure… pleased to meet you, Hades.”
He gave me a faintly amused look, the corner of his lips upturned. His dark eyes lightened. “I know, the name’s hardly normal. However, I promise you that there is a good explanation for it.”
“Greek parents?” Oh, God. “Disney parents?”
He frowned at the last one as if he didn’t understand my reference. Well, it did sound cartoonish to mention it aloud since he seemed a little old fashioned to say the least.
“No. I assure you I’m the real Lord of the Underworld.” He said it so flatly that I burst into laughter.
“You should be in movies!” I told him. “Or maybe selling something on television. They say you have to believe your story, and Hades, I can tell that you believe yours.”
“You do too.” His words cut through my laughter, rendering me utterly silent, my breath catching, and my eyes widening.
The rational part of me didn’t believe him. The part disgusted by mediums who cold-read people, idiots who didn’t believe in climate change, and bad people who didn’t think karma came back to bite them. But some deeper, unfamiliar part of me did. It knew of the monsters just beyond the fires, and that the mumbling dude on the bus really was just a harmless homeless man. Call it instinct, but when I looked at Hades it made me feel like I had swum out into a pond and hit a deep cold spot.
I swallowed hard as he leaned across the table towards me, his eyes dark. For one strange moment, I swore I saw stars in them.
“You know who I am,” he stated plainly, his voice quiet and utterly full of command. “You know it in your heart, even if your mind doesn’t like to think of it. Who am I?”
Again, the logical part of me wondered why he kept pressing the matter, but the certain part of me responded, “The Lord who rules under the Earth, King of All Wealth, Ruler of What Comes After, and Regnant Over the Dead.” I gasped and clapped my hand over my mouth.
Where had the words come from?! They’d been drawn from some deep place inside me that I was barely aware existed. Something in me had opened up at his command like a blooming flower under the sunlight, extracted by him.
He gently pried my tensed hand with both of his, and I gasped at the temperature of his skin. Like ice, its monstrous cold threatened to seep into me.
“Now tell me who you are.” The edge of command to his tone sparked a flash of temper in me this time. Hot and irritated, outrage rising, I yanked my hand back from his. If my little stunt at the funeral home had startled him, this should have left him flatfooted.
“No,” I said sternly, still a little freaked out by what was happening and how he seemed to read my mind. I still wasn’t convinced he was who he claimed to be, but I’d pry it out of him.
“No tricks! No getting in my head. Don’t do that to people.”
Hades frowned at me, but before he could respond, the waitress returned with my order. She gave me a curious look as she put down my fried appetizer and my orange soft drink.
“Going somewhere nice after this?” she asked.
“Oh no, we’ve just come from a funeral,” I answered without thinking. She stared at me, then at the spot Hades occupied like she didn’t see him.
“Sorry for your loss,” she muttered before moving on.
I winced. Good one, Autumn.
“People used to be less fearful of death,” Hades explained, watching her walk away, leaving me wondering why there was something oddly sad about him.
“Why shouldn’t they be?” I asked, picking up a fried delight. “Death’s the end of everything we know. I mean, I threw an absolute fit going to kindergarten for the first time, and that was just elementary school. There weren’t angels, clouds, flaming lakes, or spinning wheels about
it.”
“That’s not what death is,” Hades dismissed, sounding like he wanted to say more. But he shook his head, dragging himself back to present business. “You need to tell me who and what you are now. Along with where you got that necklace. I have been patient enough.”
I bridled at his tone, glaring at him as I took a sip of my drink. I’d never responded well to bullies or demands, and right now this guy was asking a lot without giving anything at all.
“Say, ‘please.’”
Caught off-guard, he stiffened. The guy wasn’t used to being told no. First with Mr. Parsons and the punch to his nose, and now me. It was a morning full of surprises, and I wasn’t too sorry about that. I expected him to demand my name, rank, and serial number again, but to my surprise, something in him softened instead. It wasn’t that he smiled, God forbid, but the hard lines of his face eased, letting something significantly more human shine through.
Oh, he’s more than handsome, a small and yearning voice said inside me. Handsome doesn’t even cover it when you smile like that.
“I have been rude.” He twisted his hands sideways, his palms facing up in appeasement.
“Well, yeah. You don’t get out much, do you?” I spoke, munching on my food.
That startled a snort out of him. “Did the avatar of Hermes meet an unexpected end and have you become his replacement? That would explain a great deal.”
“I have no idea what in the world you are talking about.”
He looked closely at me for a moment, and then shook his head.
“No. You are something else.” He smiled again and I stopped chewing. “My sincerest apologies for treating you rudely.” The way he expressed it told me he wasn’t accustomed to saying sorry, yet he genuinely meant it. “I beg your pardon, and I hope that you grant it.”
His old-fashioned diction should have sounded ridiculous, but instead, it came naturally to my ears. I blinked, wondering why there was a blush blossoming on my cheeks.
“Um, it’s all right. No big deal. Everyone has a bad day.”