Don't Fear the Reaper

by Michelle Muto

  “This deal is about more than just me, isn’t it?”

  “There’s a lot to explain, Keely.” Banning’s voice remained soft and calm. Only the swooosh of the occasional passing vehicle broke the stillness inside the car. His gaze didn’t falter from whatever he saw through the windshield. I thought it had little to do with the way the sun had started to dip into the horizon or the cars in front of us, and more to do with the memories locked behind those forever-blue eyes of his.

  “We’ll talk about the deal. Later.” Banning looked tired and every bit as worn as I felt. “Let’s get back to the house first,” he said. “You should rest a bit. We’ll talk this evening after your parents settle in for the night.”

  Rest might be a good thing, if not for me, then for him. But would he rest? Or would he stay awake, fearful I’d take off again?

  Life, or the afterlife, was different now. While I hadn’t been thrilled with how things were before I died, this thrilled me even less. Unfortunately, going back wasn’t an option, and standing still wasn’t going to get me anywhere. If Banning found a way to take everything in stride, then so could I.

  Yeah. If only I could find courage in my lies.

  I probably should have kept my mouth shut. Despite Banning’s calm and his seemingly parental behavior toward me, I’d probably pushed him enough. I certainly didn’t deserve his kindness, this deal he’d made. So why did I feel the need to ask one more thing? Because, as my sister would have said, anything else just wouldn’t have been me.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why would you do such a thing for me?”

  Banning sighed, and it was the loneliest sound—like a midnight breeze in a graveyard. After a moment’s contemplation he offered his weary response. “Because you remind me of someone.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  On the way back, I insisted on visiting a couple of neighborhood friends in case Jordan was there. She wasn’t. No one was home at either Kristen’s or Zach’s, and wandering through their houses when they weren’t there seemed too much like snooping or breaking and entering, so we went back to my house.

  Exhaustion had seeped into every part of me by the time we got back home and I wanted to rest for a while. Besides, sitting around watching my parents grieve only worsened my guilt. Still, I lingered in the living room for a moment. Mom and Dad were curled up on the sofa to watch television.

  Aunt Jen was there, too. She snatched the remote off the coffee table. “News is too depressing.” She flipped through channels, finally deciding on a sitcom rerun, probably hoping the humor might quench some of the despair in the room. But my parents didn’t even seem to notice.

  After Banning and Daniel assured me they’d stay clear of my parents and Aunt Jen, I trudged upstairs. Despite my uncertainties, my blissful ignorance of the ways of the afterlife, I had to admit they hadn’t done a thing to hurt me or my parents either, though they both had the opportunity and the ability.

  I stayed in Jordan’s room again instead of mine. If she came home while I slept, she’d know where I’d be. I worried about her. Did Jordan have someone to guide her along like Banning and Daniel, or was she alone? She’d been alone at the morgue. At least, Tim hadn’t mentioned anyone being with her.

  I thought about all the earthbounds Daniel said were unstable and squeezed my eyes closed tightly, trying not to think of my sister among them. My body ached and flickers of light sparkled behind my tired eyelids. My thoughts became more disjointed and less important as my breathing slowed. I wondered if demons or reapers ever slept. Apparently, ghosts did, because before long, I let go of everything and succumbed to wonderful, peaceful sleep.

  I awoke sometime after midnight and found Banning and Daniel on the back deck, talking and star gazing. Other than the occasional light breeze rustling the leaves or the distant wail of a siren, the night remained quiet. The moon hung low in the sky, nested in a veil of iron gray clouds.

  Banning patted the empty chair. “Come, sit. I think it’s time I filled you in on a few things.”

  “You mean this deal?” I said, taking the seat.

  Banning nodded.

  I chewed at my lip for a minute. “About that…Daniel says you think something else killed me?”

  Again, Banning nodded.

  I frowned. “But what? I already—”

  “Love,” he said. “Love is what killed you.”

  I blinked, tried to wrap my brain around that. “What?”

  Daniel leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Yeah, I don’t think the medical examiner is going to put that in his report.”

  “It’s what the committee thinks that counts,” Banning added.

  “Who’s this committee?” I asked.

  “High ranking angels and demons. Reps from both sides, you might say. Probably God and Lucifer for all we know,” Daniel replied. “Come on down, Keely Morrison! It’s your turn for judgment day.”

  Banning didn’t laugh. “ME’s report or not, it’s what I used as an argument on why you shouldn’t be sent to hell.”

  My mind reeled with this information. “How exactly does this help me?” It was a stretch—even for the most talented of attorneys, much less a reaper going up against some ethereal, all powerful judge and jury of the afterlife. “Love? I don’t get it. That’s a really weak defense.”

  Banning smiled. “Definitely your father’s daughter. You’d have made a good lawyer.”

  Me? A lawyer? No way. I’d heard enough lawyer jargon to last me a lifetime. I still had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Reality set in, and I let out a small huff. Correction. Afterlife. I didn’t see many help-wanted posters in purgatory. What did it matter, anyway? I wasn’t going to become anything. As far as I could tell, only angels, demons, and reapers had jobs and I didn’t think they got paid.

  “What did you do before you died?” I asked Banning. “Before you became a reaper? Were you some kind of negotiator? An attorney?” I wouldn’t have been surprised. Banning’s ability to read people amazed me. Whatever his profession in life, he should have been a psychoanalyst.

  Daniel flashed a chilling smile again, the one that meant he knew something and wasn’t telling.

  I hated that smile. “You sure seem to know a lot.”

  “That’s because Banning and I go back a ways.” Daniel’s grin widened.

  The smile he wore unnerved me. When Jordan and I were young, Mom read to us before bed. I remember Alice in Wonderland giving me the creeps. I hated it because Alice wound up in this horrible place so unlike anything in her real world that it was totally freakish. Right now, Alice and I had a lot in common, except no one served me tea and the Hatter wasn’t the only one going mad.

  “It doesn’t matter what I did before,” Banning replied.

  “It does!” I got out of my chair and took a place along the deck railing. “I’m going to hell in a few days unless you’ve got some plan up your sleeve, and I’m not the only one at risk here. It’s your soul, too.”

  I inhaled deeply, and my lungs ached as though the air contained small daggers. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m scared, Banning. If I’m going to hell, if you don’t have a plan, then tell me!”

  Banning leaned forward and sighed. I took a seat again.

  “I was a doctor,” he said. “Not a lawyer. Not a magician. But I know a few things about your situation. In fact, I know them very well indeed.”

  He rubbed his hands together. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked truly sad, beaten almost. Not at all like a powerful being who took souls on a regular basis. I glanced at Daniel, expecting some wisecrack about a reaper who was once a doctor, but he sat quietly.

  “Just a regular M.D. Not a surgeon or a specialist,” Banning said with a small laugh. “A doctor who once swore an oath to heal, to save lives, now takes them.”

  I couldn’t imagine why Banning had become a reaper after having been a doctor—to go from someone so respected to something so hated. I’d gone from
loser to an even bigger loser in one last breath. Banning had gone from revered to feared. The pain in his expression was clearly evident so I didn’t press it. Right then, I didn’t need to know. Not now, and maybe not ever. Something awful had happened to Banning and he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “It’s okay.” I spoke in as caring a voice as possible, sounding oddly like Banning himself had last night. “I’m sure you’ve got a plan. A really good one.”

  Banning stood and somberly walked away. I started to go after him, but Daniel’s hand rested on my arm and I eased back into the chair.

  After Banning disappeared into the darkness, I asked, “What was he thinking?”

  I wasn’t a lawyer’s daughter for nothing, and I’d heard Dad talk about fighting against precedents before. Banning might as well try to prove the world was flat.

  Daniel seemed to be struggling for words, but even his smart-ass attitude failed to come up with a single thing. I hung my head. Dread and sorrow filled me. Daniel was right—I wasn’t worth it. “He’s going to lose, isn’t he?”

  Daniel nodded. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure he does.” He searched my face for whatever expression he’d expected.

  Daniel had been sent as more than just a chaperone into hell for me. He knew it. Banning knew it. While I didn’t have a clue about what happened when Daniel’s life ended, what sin against his soul he’d committed to land in hell, I started to suspect that Daniel had a conscience and it was tearing him apart. Despite our differences, it occurred to me that we were beginning to see the good in each other.

  “This keeps getting worse, doesn’t it?” I asked.

  Daniel stared into the backyard. “I’ve been sent to ensure you don’t get to heaven. If you mess up while in purgatory, there’s no redemption.”

  “And Banning goes to hell with me.”

  “Two souls for the price of one,” he replied.

  “Why didn’t Banning tell me straight up?” Beside the fact that I wouldn’t have listened to any of this before I’d seen my body at the morgue, there was something else. Some other reason he hadn’t told me.

  “Because he’s not supposed to, and Banning usually plays by the rules. I don’t.”

  I’d already guessed that much. I wasn’t much for playing by the rules either. All I wanted at this moment was to avenge my sister’s death. I could taste it, feel it. But now? Banning had put his soul on the line for mine.

  Damn! What a craptastic way to keep me on the straight and narrow. I would do anything—surrender my soul to the hottest coals in hell for all eternity to get revenge. But, after my selfish act of taking my own life, I’d learned a lesson and learned it well. I wouldn’t be reckless with anyone else’s life, someone’s soul ever again. Banning said he had a family, and I seriously doubted they were all in hell. He deserved to be with them, not stuck in hell with me.

  “So why tell me any of this? Won’t that make it harder for me to fail?” I asked.

  His eyes darted my direction for a split second before diverting back to the yard. I realized he wasn’t going to answer. So, why did he tell me all this? Nothing I came up with made a lot of sense.

  Because nothing here makes sense.

  “Why did they send you?” I didn’t expect the truth, just something to go on. “I think that deep down, you probably can be a decent guy. At least when you want to.”

  He paused, clearly thinking of what to say. Which meant he was either making something up or figuring a way to dodge the question entirely. He was good at that.

  “Why not me?” he responded finally. “Maybe it’s my turn to do the dirty work.” He attempted a smile, hoping I’d catch onto the humor in what he’d said. He understood the same thing I did—it’s always easier to manipulate people if you can get them to laugh. It puts them at ease. In this case, it made it easier to change the subject and answer with a non-answer. If Daniel couldn’t switch the subject with sarcasm, he’d do it with humor.

  “But you didn’t take me to find Pete. That’s what this all comes down to, isn’t it? Some sort of showdown between Pete and me?”

  “Yeah,” Daniel replied. “We should go inside. Banning is probably waiting for us.”

  “Are you still planning on taking me to find him?”

  He smiled, half-heartedly. “Yeah, Sunshine, I will. Call it a date. After a fun evening of torturing and murdering Pete, I’ll take you to my place where things will get a little hot. Dress appropriately.”

  When he stood and placed a firm hand across mine there was no tenderness in his touch.

  “Oh! And about me being a decent guy? Don’t mention it. Ever.” Then he walked off into the night.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  By the time I went back inside, Banning was asleep on the sofa and Daniel was nowhere to be found. The house was dark and I didn’t think it’d be in my best interest to go wandering off into the night to search for Jordan alone. Besides, I’d run out of ideas of where she might be. I curled up on her bed and before long, I’d drifted to sleep. I dreamed of my family.

  Funny how some dreams don’t make any sense. In the dream, I fully understood I was dead. Yet, there I was, at Gram’s house with my parents. Gram and Jordan had gone for pizza. Mom, Dad, and I were sitting at the dining room table that my mother had set, complete with cloth napkins and Gram’s fine china. Dad was listening to my iPod, which struck me as really weird since we each have our own. I asked my mother why we were using the fine china when we were only eating pizza, and she told me that the occasion was special.

  I didn’t want to ask, “Hey, Mom! You know I’m dead, right?” Mostly because I thought she did know. I suppose enjoying dinner with your dead daughters was a special occasion, all right.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Mom simply nodded, and I thought she might cry. I started to tell her how things were here and that I was looking for Jordan. But, no matter how I tried, my mouth refused to cooperate.

  “You should have told us you were going to do something like that,” Mom snapped.

  Dad never acknowledged me, but Mom went on one of her rants about how I needed focus and that I’d better straighten up now that I was on the other side. I vaguely remember rolling my eyes, as though I’d done nothing more than miss curfew. The words seemed as if they were odd to her, too. Like she meant to say something else.

  “Answers, Keely! How could you? I can’t even go in there now.” She pointed toward the stairs. I knew she meant her bathroom. The sound of dripping water carried all the way downstairs.

  “We loved you so much.” She began to cry and pound her fist on the table. Her anger was like a formidable, unseen fire—a wave of crushing heat and air. And then, for a moment, the room shrank, and she and Dad seemed distant, as though in a tunnel.

  “I know,” I said, reaching out for her. She reached back, and our fingers nearly touched. I stretched out farther. “I love you, too, Mom. I’ll take care of her—” The room spun out of focus before I could finish. Before we could touch.

  “Mom! Don’t go! Don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me in purgatory!” The irony of my words echoed into thin air.

  I stood alone in an empty house. Even the furniture was gone, the slowly dripping water from upstairs my only companion. From some sort of omniscient viewpoint, I watched myself heading slowly up the stairs toward the sound.

  Ribbons, pretty ribbons.

  No! Don’t go in there.

  I jerked awake as if I’d stopped myself from falling. Rain beat against the window and thunder rumbled in the distance. Like some frightened child, I bolted from Jordan’s bed to my parents’ room. In the dark, I saw Dad’s form but not Mom’s. My lungs ached as though they were drowning, gasping for oxygen. I ran to my room. Mom lay on my bed, fitful, but asleep. The pain inside, the guilt, it all threatened to crush me. I knelt beside the bed and touched her arm. She frowned and shivered, then pulled the covers tightly around her. I laid my head on the edge of the bed.

&nb
sp; “Dreaming?” Banning inquired.

  Words eluded me and speaking seemed pointless.

  “It’s unfair that even in death we can’t control our dreams. Did you connect?” he asked.

  I glanced up at him.

  Banning took a seat at my desk. “The living dream of the dead, and the dead dream of the living. It’s not uncommon to connect through those dreams. Unfortunately, the conversations get a little jumbled.”

  I thought about how many nights I’d dreamed of Gram and of Jordan. While it could have simply been my subconscious, I wondered…

  “I wish she knew I was here.”

  The wind outside had increased, and the house creaked.

  Banning leaned forward. “She does. Just not the way you want her to. She might not be able to see you, but if you’re lucky, she’ll feel a chill or believe she’s heard your voice. If she’s like most, she’ll dismiss it. Those grieving so heavily usually do. They don’t realize that so soon after our deaths, we sometimes stay by their side for days before moving on.”

  “It’s not fair,” I said. “Death is when we need each other the most.”

  Banning smiled that forlorn smile of his. “No, life is. We just don’t see its worth then. Unfortunately, the dead don’t have the abilities the living expect of us. Mortals are very materialistic when it comes to many things, relationships being one of them. They rely on all things tangible. Things they can see, smell, taste, touch. Things they can prove. You and I have left our bodies behind. Souls are intangible. So, the living don’t see what’s right before them. In their grief, they often fail to notice the small telltale signs we’re here. There’s an old saying that true love never dies. It just changes forms.”