by J. E. Taylor
“Did he really die on September 11th?” I asked, thinking about the facts my mother told me.
“Yes, and you and your mother were there that day.”
I raised my eyebrows. I was two at the time and had no recollection of that day at all. My mom said she watched the news from our apartment while I played with the toy fire trucks my father had given me. Why wouldn’t she tell me we were there?
“She has no memory of the events, Nicholas. We erased the horror of that day, replacing it with what she believes is the truth.”
“What about my memory?”
“You don’t have one because you died in your father’s arms.”
Sounds swirled, taking over the silence of the living room. Thunder and screaming, dust and blood rained over my world and my breath hitched. In the rubble knelt a firefighter, his face covered with grit and tears and in his arms the broken body of a small boy. His gaze rose to mine and shock saturated my body at the familiar blue-green glow that stood out against the soot.
“Nick?”
It wasn’t so much her voice that brought me back to the present, it was the cold touch on my arm and I blinked the disturbing vision away and looked at Isabel.
“He traded his life for mine, didn’t he?” The weight of his sacrifice crumbled any resolve I had and tears blurred my vision.
“Yes, he did. Just like his father did before him, but your father chose to tempt fate and ignore his destiny before making that decision.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted a life with you and your mother as opposed to taking the role of the Angel of Death that his royal bloodline demanded. Your father didn’t believe your grandfather’s ultimatum. He chose to ignore the responsibility, and the ramifications of his ignorance rippled through the underworld. September 11th was the result of that decision and your father was presented with one last option. Take the position or the bloodline would be severed, plunging the world into anarchy.”
“If I was already dead...”
“Not only does death have the power to take life, he has the power to breathe it back into the dead. He revived you and your mother and made sure neither of you had any recollection of that day.”
“How did he die?”
“The minute we cleared you from the building, the section he was in collapsed under the weight of the debris, crushing your father.”
“Were we the only ones he saved that day?”
Isabel smiled and shook her head. “No. He saved a number of people before he died and after he took his rightful place as the Angel of Death, he shepherded those not on the list to safety.”
“If he erased our memories, how did my mom know about him?”
“Your parent discussed your father’s future before you were born. He told her about his lineage and that he had a choice and he wanted to stay with the two of you. Of course she thought the entire thing was his overactive imagination until the night of September 11th, when the torch was passed and he violated all the rules by going home and explaining the crux of the responsibility. This birthright is passed from generation to generation and someday you would be standing in his shoes. She begged him not to go, until he told her it was his life or yours. While your mother loved your father with every fiber of her being, she loves you more. He broke protocol explaining everything to your mother. No other living human knows about the royal bloodline or the fact that it is passed on from generation to generation, and she made him promise to explain it to you long before you had to make the same grave choices.”
“She doesn’t know I died.”
“No. She doesn’t, but she knows you will when it’s time to take your father’s place.
Don’t Fear the Reaper
Chapter 16
Every word Isabel said echoed in my mind with each sway of the front porch swing, swarming and overwhelming me until I closed my eyes. Every time I closed my eyes I saw that snapshot of my father holding my dead body, and raw devastation slammed into my ribs like right hooks, forcing my eyelids open. This vicious cycle looped again and again, as lazy as the arch of the swing but as powerful as a gale force wind.
I sucked in my breath against the mental anguish.
I wouldn’t live beyond twenty five. Half my life already gone and that little fact stroked my nerves like a sharp knife tearing flesh from bone.
A death sentence of epic proportion.
At least with cancer, there was a fighting chance, but this? This was a time bomb I didn’t want to hold. My gaze landed on Julia’s house and my prospects for the future darkened.
A car engine drew my attention and I turned toward the driveway. My mother climbed out of the car with a grocery bag in her arms and her warm welcoming smile. My throat closed tight at the onslaught of sorrow and I pressed my lips together, blinking the tears blurring my vision.
My mom’s smile faded the closer she got and I tilted my head, opting to stare at the wooden deck instead of at her.
The bag crinkled when she set it down near the door and her feet came into my field of view. “What’s wrong, Nick?” she asked and knelt so I could see her face.
Before I could answer, a deep rumble came from below us, shaking the porch. A plume of fire rolled into the air in the distance like the cloud of a nuclear bomb and the noise that followed sounded like the earth screaming.
The wind roared; bending the trees in its path until the hot breeze dissipated.
Both my mother and I jumped to our feet. Neighbors’ doors opened and folks just stood and stared at the settling smoke.
“What the hell was that?” my mother said.
“It’s started,” Isabel said from the edge of the porch stairs, yanking our attention away from the spectacle.
“Who are you?”
I knew that accusatory tone my mother uttered. It was her defense mechanism when she was rattled and her weapon when she was angry.
“Isabel,” she said and took a step forward. “Nick and I met at the hospital earlier today.”
It was my turn to get the sharp stare and I fidgeted. “I thought you were going to the library with Julia.”
“I did, but then I went to the hospital to look for reapers and I found Isabel.” I waved my hand toward the pretty teenager on the steps.
My mother’s face paled and she took a seat on the swing, studying Isabel. “Are you...”
“Yes. I am.”
I started to speak but a quick shake from Isabel’s head shut off my words.
“Why can I see you?”
Isabel sighed and glanced toward the growing mayhem of sirens in the distance. “I’m related to Dylan,” she said when she looked back at my mother.
The muscles in my mother’s jaw tightened and she crossed her arms. “Part of that royal bloodline?” Sarcasm laced each syllable.
“Married to it,” Isabel said and my mother’s arms dropped to her lap and her mouth popped open in an O of surprise.
“Not Dylan. No honey, you’ve got his heart forever. I was married to his great, great grandfather. This is what happens when we die, darling. We serve the bloodline.”
A crease appeared between my mother’s eyes and I could see the wheels turning in her head as she stared at Isabel. A pack of questions circled in her mind like a dog chasing its tail and I had to look away. My gaze traveled in the direction of Julia’s house and I blinked. Julia was in full sprint towards us, her face flushed and her eyes wild.
I hopped over the rail and sprinted toward her.
“Nick,” she said, her breath laboring around my name.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing how dumb the question was in light of the number of sirens in the distance.
“I was on the phone with my mom. She said she and my dad were going to be late because of the traffic on the highway and then the phone went dead.”
“Maybe...”
“Nick, the phone died at the same time that explosion happened.” She threw herself into my chest.
I wrappe
d my arms around her trembling body and stared at the settling dust in the distance. To say I had a bad feeling was an understatement.
Don’t Fear the Reaper
Chapter 17
Julia sat staring at the television, her milk and cookies untouched. The news station rattled on about a gas tanker that exploded on the crowded highway, but there was no footage being broadcast and only speculation regarding the amount of damage.
She turned her teary gaze in my direction, silently pleading for information that I didn’t have. Isabel had left soon after we brought Julia in the house and she sent me a clear warning to stay put.
That had been at least a half hour ago and I was getting tired of waiting. “Mom, I’m going to take my dirt bike and find out what happened.”
“No.”
There was no wiggle room in her answer, or in the glare she shot over Julia’s head.
“I need to know what happened,” I said, a little more forcefully than I meant, causing darkness to cross over my mother’s face, transitioning it from worry to anger in the matter of a blink.
“Dylan Nicholas Ramsay, you are not going anywhere. You understand?”
Julia stiffened and her hand clasping mine clamped down with enough force for me to wince and snap my attention to where hers was glued. The first footage of the wreckage scrolled across the television and it looked like a war zone. Charred metal and fabric and other unidentifiable remains splattered both sides of the highway, and the area where the gas truck had been was now a smoldering blackened crater.
“Maybe they were still on the bridge,” I said, trying to instill hope where I knew there was none.
The reapers caused this atrocity. Those people, Julia’s parents included, were not supposed to die today and my free hand balled into a fist. My fingernails dug into my palm, tempering my building fury. Julia needed me to be reasonable and calm, not go off half-cocked and get myself killed.
The shrill ring of the phone made us jump and my mother picked it up.
“Hello?” she said and after the flutter of words on the other end, she turned away. “I see,” her voice hitched. “Thank you for taking care of her the last couple days. I’ll contact the funeral home and make arrangements.”
Both Julia and I were staring at my mother when she hung up the phone. When she turned, her eyes were bloodshot and full of unshed tears. “Nick, your grandmother passed away.”
“Do you think my father...?” I trailed off, and a voice cleared from the hallway.
Isabel stood in the shadows and her gaze told me all I needed to know. She was the one who fixed my mistake, not my father. And I could tell from the sadness in her eyes that she couldn’t fix the chain of devastation the rogue reapers started.
“Isabel,” my mother’s cool voice pulled my attention back to the situation. “What did you find out?”
Isabel’s gaze bounced between the three of us and her features etched indecision.
Julia turned toward Isabel and sniffed, wiping the tear tracks from her cheeks and waiting for the axe to fall on her world.
“I’m sorry, Julia,” Isabel whispered.
“What does that mean?” Julia asked, her gaze falling on me.
“It means your parents didn’t make it,” I said, steeling myself for a storm of emotion.
“How do you know that? They don’t even know that yet.” She pointed at the television. “They said it could take days to sort through the wreckage and figure out how many were lost in the explosion.”
“Look, she’s in just as much danger as you and your mother right now and she deserves to know what I am, so we might as well come clean,” Isabel said.
I tightened my jaw and glared at Isabel while Julia fell silent. She turned her pretty doe eyes in my direction. “What does she mean?”
My mother started to speak and I silenced her with the same motion my father had last night. “I got this, Mom,” I said and then met Julia’s gaze. “Do you remember me yelling when Mr. Sanchez died?”
She nodded.
“Well, I saw something behind him.” I paused and traded a glance with Isabel. “I saw a reaper.”
“No one was in the room, Nick,” she said.
“Normal people can’t see reapers, but I can.”
“Look, your cousin just told me my parents are dead and all you can talk about are things only you can see?” Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch and her chest rose and fell with the effort. Tears slid down her cheeks and I reached for her but she pulled away. “You’re insane!”
I grabbed her arm, holding her close. “You said my father scared you and that Isabel was a little strange,” I started, trying not to let the swell of emotion take over, but my voice shook regardless of how much I wanted to sound in control. “You knew they weren’t normal.”
“What does that have to do with reapers?”
“Isabel is a reaper.”
The admission dropped her jaw and her eyes widened like saucers. I didn’t expect her next reaction and when the sting of her palm slapped my cheek, I stepped back, dropping my hold from her and covering the hot skin of my face.
“Izzy, show her,” I ordered and both my mother’s and Julia’s gasp were enough. I didn’t have to turn to know Isabel transitioned into her natural form, allowing Julia to see her without her glamour. Julia moved quickly, clinging to me like a frightened two year old.
“What is that?”
I glanced over my shoulder and shrugged at the cloaked skeleton. “Thanks Isabel, now can you...” Before I finished the sentence, the perky teenage girl again stood in the same spot and I turned back to Julia. “That is a reaper.”
Julia’s eyes rolled back and she went limp in my arms.
Don’t Fear the Reaper
Chapter 18
“I don’t know how to stop this,” Isabel whispered and for the first time, I sensed her fear. I glanced over my shoulder at Julia on the couch, still in the black out zone and my mother mopping Julia’s forehead with a damp washcloth. I nodded toward the living room and Isabel led the way.
“Can I stop it?”
She shook her head and then bit her lip.
“You don’t know whether I can or not, do you?”
Isabel paced the floor without answering me.
“Can my father stop this?”
She stopped pacing and met my gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, let me ask you a different question.” I leaned forward. “How do I kill a reaper?”
She recoiled, her arms wrapping around her chest in response to the fear I instilled in her. Just the thought made her shiver. This time when she whispered “I don’t know” I knew she was lying.
“Tell me how to kill a reaper,” I commanded in a voice I didn’t recognize.
Isabel shuddered and then the explanation came in a rush of words, spilled too fast for me to understand. The only thing I got was blade and foreign alloy.
“Dylan usually has the weapon,” she finished.
“What kind of weapon?” I asked, thinking it was the traditional scythe shown in the Google searches.
“It’s a fifteen inch spiked bowie knife.”
“Can’t we buy one online?”
Isabel laughed at me and the burn of embarrassment heated my cheeks. “No, you can’t just buy it online. It isn’t made of anything you’d find on this earth. The archangels delivered it to the first Angel of Death and it’s been handed down from generation to generation ever since. It can destroy many things, including reapers, and possession of that weapon wields ultimate power.”
I raised my eyebrow. “What if my father doesn’t have it anymore?”
Isabel blanched and sat down on the couch. “If those reapers have that knife, the human race is doomed.”
Don’t Fear the Reaper
Chapter 19
The television was still droning about the explosion when I stepped back in the family room. Julia sobbed in my mother’s arms and my heart dropped to my stomach, wrapping me
in the pain she felt. I crossed and dropped to my knees next to her. I reached for her, and when my hand touched her knee, she jumped, jerking away from both my mother and me.
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for Isabel.
“She went to look for something,” I said to ease her panic and it worked. Her teary gaze met mine and her chin started to quiver. I took this as my cue and pulled her into my arms. “I’m sorry about your parents,” I whispered in her ear and shut everything else from my mind. Julia needed me and I owed it to her to be there.
When she stopped shaking, she pulled away and wiped her face with a Kleenex. “Why is Isabel here?”
“She’s trying to help,” I said.
“Nick,” my mother said, shooting the same warning look she gave me before she left me in Father Michael’s office.
“Mom, she deserves to know,” I said, and did something I would never have dreamed of doing twenty-four hours ago. I glared at my mother. “She deserves the choice you never had.”
My mother’s lips thinned and she stood. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“You mean to tell me if you knew what you were getting into, what you were bringing me into, you still would have married him?”
“Yes.” The answer came without a blink of hesitation and I didn’t care. Julia deserved more.
I turned away from my mother. “The way I understand it, I’m not going to live beyond twenty-five and when I die, I take over my father’s job.”
Julia pulled out of my arms and stepped back, putting distance between us. “Why are you doing this?”
“I’m not doing anything, Julia, I’m just trying to tell you who I am.”
“I already know who you are.”
“Do you know who my father is?” I didn’t mean to, but my voice rose under the stress racking my bones. “He scared the crap out of you, Julia. Tell me who you thought he was?”