“Tempting, isn’t it?” Constantine asked.
I glanced at him. “What is?”
“Wanting to rush out.” His gaze held mine. The man must have read minds. “Warn them.”
“Yeah, it is.” No point in lying. “Does anybody ever do that?”
“It’s happened, but it doesn’t help.”
The need to know battled with my knowledge that ignorance was bliss, and won. “Why not?”
“Only guardian angels can interfere. If a reaper tries to prevent the death it will still happen. Maybe not in the way planned, but it will still happen.”
“That’s depressing.” I admit I had toyed with the idea of preventing some of the deaths I would encounter. But what was the point if the person ended dying anyway—maybe horrifically?
“Depends on how you look at death, I guess.” Constantine stepped around me. “No doubt your opinion of it will change in time.”
My eyes cut to Nate. “Did your opinion change?”
He nodded. “Oh yeah.”
Before I had time to ask him how, Constantine pointed to a large, digital board hanging on the wall. Names were lit in green, and a series of yellow boxes glowed behind them. “These are the reapers stationed here in Alaska.”
I noticed my name at the bottom of the list. Only one box was lit. “There’s a lot more than I thought.” Nate was in the number one spot with a string of yellow lights behind his name. “What do those mean?”
“Each light represents a reaped soul. Everybody has a quota for the year.”
“Why do I have a box?” I hadn’t reaped yet and figured it was some kind of confidence building tactic.
“Roy Badder,” Nate said behind me.
“I didn’t reap him.” Sure, I’d touched him, but Nate did all the heavy lifting. Plus it was an accident. So I didn’t feel I deserved the credit. “I just held onto him.”
“Same thing,” Constantine echoed what Nate had said in the Holiday bathroom.
“So, it’s like a scoreboard?”
“Exactly. Soon you’ll be up there with Nate.”
My gaze skated up the list of reapers. God, I hoped not. Trying to infuse my voice with awe, I widened my eyes. “Impressive.”
Nate grunted. “Right.”
Okay, so maybe sincerity wasn’t my best attribute when it came to him.
“Anyway,” Constantine continued, “see the blinking square at the end of Edgar Cramdon’s quota?” I nodded. “That means his client is dead but hasn’t been reaped yet.”
I shifted my weight to my other foot and crossed my arms over my chest. “Dead? For how long?”
“Not sure.” Constantine took out his phone and scrolled through several screens. “Eighteen hours.”
“Aren’t we supposed to reap right away?” I couldn’t imagine some poor soul being stuck while their body assumed room temperature. “I mean—it seems the considerate thing to do.”
“Normally, yes.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “But it was a suicide.”
“What difference does that make?”
“It’s not policy, so don’t quote me on it, but we let suicides cool their heels before letting them cross over. Then maybe they’ll think twice about taking their life the next time around.”
There was a whole lot of information coming at me. Not here’s the break room and the pudding in the fridge belongs to Lois information. This was secret of the universe stuff. “What do you mean—next time?
“Reincarnation,” Constantine said as if he’d just said something as generic as muffin or socks.
“So…we come back?” Duh, he’d just said that, but it was the most intelligent thing I could manage while my brain drank the information. “By choice?”
“Of course. How else would you learn lessons?” He smirked, revealing a dimple I hadn’t noticed. “Walk in another man’s shoes, so to speak.”
“So I’ve reincarnated before?” Of course my imagination instantly shot to a princess or Gandhi.
“Absolutely.” He walked to the closest computer terminal and typed in some information. “Let’s see when and who you were.”
“Get out of here.” All of my inhibitions evaporated. I joined him, leaning close to him in an effort to see the monitor. “Are you googling this?”
“More like ethereal Googling. This computer connects directly to the Akashic Records.”
“I’ve heard of those. They contain everything that’s happened in history, right?”
He turned his head and smiled at me. “Very good.”
I smiled back, which was a better option than acting on my impulse to run my tongue along his lips.
“In a nutshell, the Akashic Records chronicle every second of every hour in history since time began.”
“Every second?”
His eyebrows lifted and he nodded.
“So drunk dialing my college ex incident?”
“Recorded. Sorry.”
“Crap.” I turned my attention to the computer monitor. “So who was I?”
“Let’s see, a Mesopotamian priestess.”
“Really? I hadn’t expected something so glamorous.”
He grimaced. “But you were sacrificed on the altar.”
“I wasn’t a virgin, was I?”
“Yeah.” His gaze cut to me again. “Sorry.”
“Figures. What else?” Surely not all my lives had ended so…unsatisfactorily.
“A Hebrew slave in Egypt. You were crushed by one of the pyramid blocks. A goat herder in Persia. Starvation.”
“Starvation?” I wasn’t sure how the whole reincarnation thing worked but I couldn’t imagine not having had the same driving need to eat as I did today. “Why didn’t I just eat my goats?”
Constantine gave a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t know. Details are sketchy.” He refocused on my life data. “You were also a Civil War soldier, a rice farmer in Asia, a milk maiden in eighteenth century Europe, and…oh.” He pointed to the screen. “A prince to England’s monarchy.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. Which prince was I?”
“Uh.” His brow furrowed. “Henry the Eighth’s son.”
My excitement plummeted. “Wait, he didn’t have any sons that lived, right?”
“Yeah, you died at birth.”
“Figures.” I straightened. “Okay, as fascinating as this is, perhaps too much information isn’t a good thing.” I’m sure there were deep spiritual reasons why most of my past lives ended tragically, or seemed completely mundane. Maybe that was the equivalent of building character. “Now I understand why we don’t remember our past lives. Actually I’m grateful. So depressing.”
“Not everybody can be Cleopatra,” Nate said. “The world needs goat herders too.”
“Comforting.” Anxious to move on, I clapped my hands together and rubbed. “What’s next?”
“The rules.” Nate picked up a thick book off the counter. At first I thought it was a phonebook. He shoved it at me. “Read it. Learn them.”
“All of it?” I took the regulations from him. “Will there be a test?”
“Yeah, every time you reap a soul. That’s your test,” Nate said.
“I can’t take this home. Somebody might see it.” I looked at Constantine. “Aren’t I supposed to keep my reaperhood a secret?”
“Yes.” Constantine took the book and handed me a phone. “That’s why we use this instead.” A short huff of laughter escaped him and he shook his head. “Nate prefers an old school approach when it comes to training.”
“Is this mine?” A shot of excitement raced through me. The phone I held was several versions newer than the dinosaur I’d been using the last four years.
“All yours,” Constantine said. “It’s important that we’re able to reach you when needed.” He stood behind me and reached around my arm. His biceps rubbed against my upper arm. “This is the GRS app.” He tapped on the tiny skull icon. “All the information you need is in here.”
I nodde
d, but was having a hard time concentrating. “Where are the regulations?”
He tapped the documents tab, and then Regulations and Procedures. “Most of the stuff is common sense. Don’t tell you friends about GRS. You’ve got to reap the soul you’re assigned to. No afterlife messages to loved ones.”
I craned my neck and looked at him. “Really? Why not.”
“The chance of exposure are too great. People start asking questions. Pretty soon the grieving wife is on your doorstep, begging you to find out where the life insurance policy is.”
“Oh.” I looked back at the phone. “It just seems like a nice courtesy we could provide.”
Having some afterlife message from Jeff would have definitely helped with the grieving process. Something along the lines of, “Thanks for being such a great wife. Tell the kids I love them.” Or maybe, “By the way, you’re next in line to be a grim reaper, so maybe stay out of the Holiday gas station if you don’t want to pursue that line of work.” What I got was radio silence.
“It’s not,” Nate said. “So get the idea out of your head.”
“I didn’t say I was going to do it,” I argued, pretending that I hadn’t just been thinking of ways around this rule.
“You didn’t have to. I’m beginning to read your body language and you were definitely thinking about it.”
I ignored him. Nate didn’t know me, and he wasn’t the boss of me. “Moving on,” I said, dropping the phone into my pocket.
“Moving on,” Constantine echoed. “Let’s have a look at Purgatory.”
“Purgatory?” I followed him, skipping a few steps to catch up. “You mean the Purgatory?”
“Yes and no.” He pressed a button on the wall and two doors slid open. “They’re containment cells used until the soul can be delivered. So, in a way it’s Purgatory. Every command center has one.”
We stepped into the room. A low hum buzzed across my skin. “What is that?” A shiver raced through me. “It’s making the hair on my neck stand on end.”
“That’s from the ectoplasmic barriers.”
“Pretend English isn’t my first language.”
He looked at me. “It’s magic.”
“See, that I understand,” I said, walking forward. “But I thought we gave spirits to our porters.”
“Most are, but in some cases their fate is undecided, so they have to hang out here a while.” Constantine stopped beside me. “You shouldn’t have this problem though. All your reaps will go through your porter.”
“Speaking of which.” I crossed my arms. The action was done more out of dread than confidence. I wasn’t sure I was ready for a one-on-one with my porter. Pick had been uber creepy, and knowing me I’d get someone even freakier. “When do I meet mine?”
“No time like the present,” Nate said from behind me.
He sounded a little too gleeful. I was instantly suspicious. “Will I have the same porter as Jeff?”
“That’s doubtful.” Constantine pressed the button and closed us inside Purgatory. “He’s probably been reassigned since there was a year between Jeff and you.”
With a deep breath, I faced him and circled my shoulders, as if preparing to spar. I circled my head and leveled my gaze in front of me. “Let’s do this.”
“For the initial meeting all you need to do is call for your porter,” Nate said.
“Like when you called for Pick?”
“Exactly.” He pulled out his phone and pointed it at me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
A wicked grin split his face. “I want to capture your expression when you see your porter for the first time.”
Jackass.
I jabbed an accusing finger at him. “What about the no tell rule? You can’t show the picture to anybody.”
“I can’t show non-GRS employees. However, I can post it on our inter-office web page.”
I looked at Constantine, my finger remaining aimed at Nate. “Can he do that?”
“Yeah, sorry, it boosts employee morale.” He patted me on the shoulder and another zing of electricity shot through me. I flinched and scowled. “And I’m sure this won’t be the last time he captures the moment. Nate loves this shit.”
I lowered my arm but continued to glare at my partner. “Okay, but remember, two can play that game.”
“Bring it on.” His gaze captured mine. Clearly he didn’t think I had revenge in me. Ha, the joke was on him. I had kids. Conniving was my middle name. “Are you going to call or should we go home for the day?” he continued.
“I kind of like the idea of calling it a day.”
“Not an option,” Constantine said, putting an end to our bickering. “Now, if you’d be so kind.”
Determined to show Nate I was made of stronger stuff than he believed me to be, I took a big breath and called, “Porter.”
Nothing happened.
Constantine shifted, crossing his arms. “Try again.”
Even his simple request sounded like a command. Again, a tiny niggle of doubt that he was just a reaper ghosted through me. I cleared my throat. “Porter.”
My heartbeat sped up when a thin pink line of light appeared at the end of the room. Instantly, I cued in on the pink and a tiny wave of relief washed through me. I hadn’t considered I might get a female porter. The tension eased from my posture.
Just like at the Holiday station, the light widened and spread, forming a door. I glanced at Nate, but the jackass still had his phone pointed at me. I ignored him and turned back to the dimming light. Seconds ticked by as the scene solidified. For some reason I couldn’t blink or look away. It was like opening a secret Santa gift at an office party. Would it be something good or a gag gift? After what seemed like forever, the door slid open.
Nate’s camera clicked to my right a few times, but I was unable to look away from what I could only describe as the biggest gag gift ever. I pointed. “What—the hell—is—that?”
Chapter 13
Well, it certainly wasn’t a woman, but I wasn’t sure it was a man either. Creepy transvestite circus master came to mind. Its yellow eyes peered at me over the top of small round sunglasses. Tall and thin, its stance was almost feminine. A shiny gold blouse draped its torso and bright purple leopard leggings hugged long, slender legs. The only masculine thing about the porter was the heavy heeled black boots. Spikes jutted from the sides and chains circled the ankles. Definitely a deterrent for getting too close—like I needed another reason not to get near this…porter.
“Oh crap,” Constantine said.
I whipped around to face him. “Crap what? Why crap?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nate added. I spun to him. He lowered his phone-camera. “This can’t be right.”
“Oh my God, would somebody tell me what’s going on!”
“That’s—”
“Hal Lee Lewya,” the porter cut in with a deep purr. Okay, I went with male. He gave a low bow. “At your service, pretty lady.” Hal straightened and smiled. A single gold canine winked at me, making him look like a 1980’s music video star. “And you must be my new reaper.” He tipped a tiny purple top hat in my direction. “A pleasure to finally be reassigned.”
“More like a surprise you’ve been reassigned,” Nate said.
“Why?” My gaze bounced between Constantine and Nate. “Why a surprise?”
“Hal had a little trouble with his last reaper.” Constantine took a step forward, partially blocking my view. “Decided to take him on a little trip to Hell.”
“What do you mean?” I remembered Nate telling me not to touch Pick. The reason was sinking in. “Like Black Friday at Target trip to Hell or literally a trip to Hell?”
“Literally—” Constantine let the rest of his statement hang, unspoken.
Hal waved a bejeweled hand in the air. “You got him back. I don’t know what the big fuss was.”
The floor shifted almost imperceptibly under my feet. My heart jumped to my throat. Earthquakes in Alask
a are common, but I still hated them. I glanced at Nate. With a flick of his hand he motioned me closer. Seemed like a good idea for protection’s sake. Obviously there was a lot going on I didn’t understand.
“The big fuss is that,” Constantine said, “he’s spent the last nine years in a mental institution because of what he saw. And this isn’t the first time you’ve pull a stunt like this, or do you need reminding?”
When Constantine spoke his voice was set low. Power rolled off him, as if emitting an invisible electrical charge. The light on the wall flickered. I took another step toward Nate. For the first time, I really looked at Constantine. Not just his chiseled body and stunning face, but all of him. I assumed he was nothing more than a GRS bigwig. Now I wasn’t sure he was even human. The way Hal Lee Lewya cast his gaze toward the floor told me I was probably right.
“No, you don’t need to rehash my sins. I assure you, Constantine, I have learned my lesson and have been thoroughly punished.” Hal lifted his stare. “Enough to satisfy even you.”
“I doubt that.”
Silence blanketed the room. Unsure what I should do, I cleared my throat. That drew everybody’s attention. “Soooo, is Hal my porter,”—which I seriously hoped he wasn’t—“or am I to be assigned somebody new.”
“No.” Constantine looked at me. “He’s yours.” He paused. “Sorry.”
Oh goodie.
I was learning that things at GRS were what they were, and there wasn’t a lot I could do about it. “Well then…” I turned to Hal. “My name is Lisa Carron.”
Hal’s yellow eyes drifted slowly down my body and back up to rest on my face. Okay, I needed a shower after that little perusal, but I ignored his rudeness. Or maybe he wasn’t being rude. Maybe a thorough body scan was considered proper behavior for one of the Netherworld’s minions. At that point I didn’t care. I just wanted him gone.
His long slim fingers toyed with a wide metal cuff at his wrist. “Lisa.”
The velvety purr of his voice wrapped around me and tugged me forward. I stepped toward him, but Nate grabbed my arm. My gaze tracked from his hand to face.
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