by AJ Rose
“There’s a large part of the death process we aren’t privy to,” Charles explained. “At some point, there’s a battle for every soul, and the people we help move on are given a choice. It’ll happen to us one day, too. The thing about reapers is our souls carry a little imprint of every person we’ve helped pass on. Because of that, our essence is very important, even precious. Our existence and identity is kept secret from more than just human beings. The battle for our souls is supposedly epic, if the demons vying for them know what they’re fighting for. If they’re unaware of our true nature, we’re more likely to bypass the age-old contest between Heaven and Hell.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Mitch frowned. “We see better than anyone what awaits after death. Why wouldn’t we always pick Heaven?”
Charles studied him for a moment. “How are you going to know for sure which one is Heaven and which one is a deception?”
“How does anyone?” Mitch countered.
“I honestly don’t know the answer to that,” Charles admitted. “I guess we all find out when we get there.”
“Okay, so we have the Ferrari of souls. How did that help Phineas’s demon?”
“He knows our identity, so when a Seeker passes away, they know what they’re fighting for and can pull out all the stops to entice us into choosing their side in the afterlife. The demon’s option was to take one mortal soul for a debt owed, or have a chance at a reaper’s soul every three hundred years, minimum. And that’s if there was only one Seeker male born every generation. Given how most of us have multiple wives in a lifetime, the odds a reaper’s soul is the prize goes up in frequency.”
“Great,” Mitch grumbled. “So not only are we stuck doing this suck-ass task because of a long ago ancestor’s mistakes, when we die, we get no special protections when we didn’t pick this life to begin with. I feel so much better knowing this is why we’re doing this.”
“Son, we perform a very important function. Demons don’t play by the rules and will jump the line on the battle every time without a reaper to ferry the souls to their intended hour of decision. Imagine a world where everyone went to Hell because that’s the only option they were given at their appointed hour?”
Mitch shook his head. “It’s not like the angels are powerless. They could counter that in some spectacular way, couldn’t they?”
Charles relaxed farther into his chair, his tone becoming speculative. “I don’t know. In my lifetime, I haven’t gotten much information beyond what I’ve already given you. We’re very much like mortals in that sense. We don’t know when or how our judgment is coming, and hopefully when the time comes, we do the right thing.”
The details of what happened beyond the door were doing Mitch’s head in. What about people who didn’t subscribe to the dogma of Heaven and Hell? What about people who didn’t believe demons and angels existed? Did their energy just sidestep the process and carry on to the next life or level or dimension without any fuss?
“I can see I’ve sort of blown your mind,” Charles said with a gentle smile. “There’s not a lot we can do about it one way or the other, Mitch. We’re bound to Katherine, as are all our future sons. Our job is to see souls to the safety of their door at the right time and let the next group take it from there. What those souls choose, or how they’re presented their options has nothing to do with us. It will only apply when it’s our turn to enter the door, same as everyone else.”
“That’s bullshit!” Mitch exploded. “So we’re more vulnerable at that good versus evil showdown than other souls. You’d think three or four lifetimes of servitude would extend us some grace, not to mention we should have a karmic savings account stacked full of good deeds for all the shit we have to deal with walking longer in this world than a standard human being.”
“I don’t know that we don’t get a few extra points in our favor after we die. And you don’t know either, so there’s no point in getting yourself worked up for something that’s so far in your future, it’s not even relevant yet. Do your duty, live your life, and be grateful you get more time than anyone else.”
Mitch glowered at the wall. The extra time was what he despised. It ruined what would otherwise be an acceptable life, regardless of his family’s debt to celestial beings. But he supposed if they had a normal life span, that would mean more Seekers on the chopping block in Purgatory, and as pissed as he was at the inability to avoid his fate, he wouldn’t wish this life on more Seeker boys. That was unfair.
He stared out the large front window of the house, where snow fell in heavy silence, beginning to pile up. It was beautiful, and for a moment, he let himself be numbed by its gentle simplicity. His gaze drifted to the heavy clouds from which the flakes fell, and he wondered at them. Was there a paradise above them? Within them? What was Heaven like? He doubted humankind had the mental capacity to imagine it.
His father was right; there was no point in worrying about the afterlife until he faced it, but the story of Phineas Seeker didn’t alter his conviction his reapership was an unfair burden. He had to find a way to let it go, or it would make him nuts.
Charles seemed to read his mind. “You were born a reaper, just as you were born left-handed, gray-eyed, and gay, Mitch. There’s no point fighting it when it’s who you are.”
Mitch’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right,” he said, barely audible.
“Come on, son,” Charles said, standing and clapping him on the shoulder. “I dare you to try and whip my ass at Scrabble.”
Mitch smiled up at his father, a burst of love blooming in his chest like an exploding star. Despite what it meant to be a Seeker, Mitch would never, in all his years, wish he’d been born to a different family.
“You’re on, old man.”
Chapter 13
Move Along, Nothing to See
The knock on Nate’s door roused him from sleep and made him grumble as he pulled himself from the tangle of limbs and sheets and grabbed a pair of athletic shorts. The knock sounded again.
“I’m coming, keep your pants on.” No one had buzzed his intercom, so he was pretty sure he knew who it was. Hell, there weren’t a lot of options anyway, since he only knew a couple people. Nakedness covered, Nate opened the door and squinted into the bright hallway light at Wes, who was clearly just off shift and still wearing his uniform.
“Why didn’t you tell me you broke up with Mitch Seeker?” he demanded, pushing into the apartment without waiting for an invite.
“Come on in,” Nate deadpanned, swinging the door shut. “This was so urgent you had to knock on my door at—” he peered at the clock on the microwave through the opening over the breakfast bar, “—twelve-thirty? Keep your voice down.” He flipped on a lamp in the living room and pointed to the couch.
Wes eyed him and sat, looking expectant. “Well? You’re not seeing him anymore?”
“No.” Nate frowned. “Not sure why that’s your business, but no. It’s over.”
“Not my business? I guess the part where I told you I was scared for you didn’t sink in then.”
Nate sighed. “Okay, fine. I should have told you. There was no reason to be afraid, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Happy now?”
Wes looked more closely at Nate. “No, actually, I’m not,” he said as if surprised by the revelation. Nate certainly was.
“Why not? You got what you wanted.”
Wes leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “When you moved here, you were a mopey little puppy, looking for affection from anyone who’d hold out a hand to you. God, Nate, you were starved for friendship. Do you think I become friends with every driver I pull over? Or offer to help people new to town find a place to live? Yeah, I’m supposed to be a Good Samaritan and serve the public, but that’s a little above and beyond. No, you needed someone to give a damn, and you’re a good kid. So of course you dating a Seeker would concern me.”
“Then you should be thrilled.”
“Whatever you were looking for when you got here,
I thought you’d found it when you started seeing Mitch. Yeah, I had my reservations, and I still do, but it doesn’t actually please me to know you broke up. I’m not a totally heartless bastard.” Wes leaned back and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. “He made you happy. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
Nate stared at his toes, digging them into the industrial grade carpet. “Me, too.”
“So what happened?”
Blowing out a breath, Nate glanced down the hallway, glad he’d closed his bedroom door so the noise wouldn’t wake Connor. Or was his name Carter? He pushed the question out of his head. It didn’t really matter, since it was just a hookup.
The real question was, how much did he want to get into with Wes? He wasn’t sure, but the idea that, despite the short duration of their acquaintance, Wes really was a good friend and concerned enough to check on him made his walls weaken.
“I don’t really know. I talked to him at the bookstore a few days ago, and all he said was it’s better for both of us because he can’t be in a relationship. I don’t know why, and he won’t tell me.”
Wes frowned. “That’s really vague. But you didn’t do something wrong?”
Just had a death in my family. “No, which is the frustrating part. I can’t fix it if I don’t know where it broke.” He decided to keep the ghost stuff to himself. Wes was already skittish, and Nate didn’t want to make that worse by spilling secrets about Mitch’s ability to see the dead. Whether they were dating or not, Nate would not add to the town’s rumor mill. “How’d you even know?”
An uncomfortable look flitted over Wes’s face. “I ran into him at the hospital today. He brought in a girl who OD’d, so I had to interview him to find out what happened. That’s another person he was near when they died. I told you there’s something wrong with that guy.”
It was Nate’s turn to frown. “How did I end up in that conversation?”
“I sort of told him if something happened to you, his door would be the first one I knocked on.”
Nate’s mouth tugged up in a smile. “Aw, such brotherly love.”
“Yeah, well, he said you were quits, and I came here as soon as my shift ended and I could get my car dug out. The snow’s getting really deep.”
When Nate glanced down the hall again, Wes narrowed his eyes. He was about to say something else when the bedroom door opened and Connor (Carter?), one of the waiters at the ski lodge restaurant, emerged, pulling on his sweatshirt. His dark hair stood on end, and he was clearly sleep rumpled, but he smiled even though there was a cop sitting on Nate’s couch.
“I thought I heard voices. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Didn’t mean to wake you. This is Wes, my neighbor.”
“Connor,” he said, giving Wes a wave with one hand and covering a yawn with the other. “Listen, is there any way you can give me a ride back to my place? It wouldn’t be a problem normally, but I forgot about the storm, and I don’t want to be late for work tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure,” Nate said. “Let me change, and I’ll take you.”
Nate disappeared into his bedroom and threw on track pants over his shorts, a t-shirt, and dug his winter boots from his closet. Returning to the living room, he retrieved both his and Connor’s coats from the foyer closet and spoke to Wes.
“You can hang here until I get back if you want. There’s beer in the fridge.”
Wes stood. “Nah, I need to go. I’m not on duty first thing in the morning, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I get called in. Tourists don’t always understand how driving works on snow.” He followed them into the hall, turning in the direction of the stairs to go down to his apartment. “Holler at me tomorrow, Nate. There’s a hockey game on TV, and a twelve-pack of Coors Light with our names on them.”
“Sure,” Nate replied, hitting the elevator’s down button.
“Nice guy,” Connor said as they stepped into the carriage. “I freaked a little seeing a cop in your apartment.”
Nate chuckled. “He lives in the building and stopped by after his shift.”
“I’m glad he did. I really did forget about the storm.”
Nate nodded, also grateful Connor had woken. Getting snowed in with someone who was just supposed to be a one and done could be awkward. Connor chatted amiably the entire way to his house, and Nate briefly considered if maybe this could be more than a single night, but quickly dismissed the idea. He and Mitch may be over, but he wasn’t sure moving on that quickly would do him or the next guy any favors. He decided to keep it simple, and when Connor hesitated getting out of the Jeep in his driveway, Nate leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“It was nice to meet you, Connor. Be safe.”
“You, too. See ya around?”
“Sure. Good night.”
He waited until Connor was safely inside before turning toward home, his thoughts inevitably landing on Mitch, and by extension, Tate. If Mitch hadn’t so clearly expressed a desire never to see him again, Nate would have asked if there was a chance he could help figure out a way to communicate with his sister. Mitch had confirmed she was there, so all Nate had to do was find a way to bridge the gap. She’d moved things in his apartment before—the photo and DVD player—so maybe she could move something else that would be more communicative.
You’re not seriously considering getting a Ouija board, are you? he demanded of himself. This isn’t grade school.
“Tate?” he asked tentatively, his voice loud in the empty silence of the Jeep. The radio, volume off so he could hear Connor’s happy chattering, suddenly turned on and then off. She was with him. “I miss you,” was all he could think to say that wouldn’t demand a specific answer. “I’m going to find a way we can have a two-way conversation, okay? I just… I really need you right now. I don’t know how to live without talking to you.”
The cold of the outside air had reacted with the warm interior and fogged the side windows, though not enough to obscure his line of sight with the road. He’d moved his hand to turn on the defroster when the squeak of something on glass caught his attention. It was a good thing he was at a stoplight because he couldn’t take his eyes off the letters forming in the fog on the passenger window.
O K
The rest of the ride home, the defroster stayed off. He didn’t want to disturb the definitive proof Tate was still with him, even in death.
Chapter 14
A Whole New World
“How’d it go today?” Troy asked.
“Not bad,” Nate answered, shucking his ski pants in relief. He’d save showering for when he got home, but just getting out of his layers made him feel lighter. “Today’s clients were fun. We spent most of the day in the back country, so it was first tracks all over.”
Troy tsked, shaking his head. “Did you check the avalanche report?”
“Of course,” Nate said, trying not to sound affronted. “I watched the temperature, too. Too warm, and I’d have moved them back to the regular trails.”
The first snowfall of six inches days before the two-foot snow dump had the experts concerned the base layer wouldn’t be strong enough to sustain the weight of the total accumulation. If temperatures rose too much, the uppermost layer would have melted sufficiently to add more weight, making it ideal for a slab to break free and take a ride down the mountain, along with everything in its path. Luckily, the storm had brought with it a cold front that kept the temps hovering near freezing, and so first tracks in the fresh powder had been near perfect. Part of the fun of skiing the back country was the risk, and Nate’s clients were experienced skiers, well aware of the precipice on which they balanced.
Troy straddled the benches in front of their lockers. Nate removed the envelope containing the Wakefields’ tip from the inside of his ski parka and transferred the five crisp hundreds to his wallet.
Troy whistled. “Today’s clients were fun, huh?” he quipped. “You get all the good ones.”
Nate whipped his head up, gauging Troy’s seriousness. He
was teasing, with a hint of jealousy. “Nah,” Nate said. “Yesterday I got the kiddie class. It ended up being enjoyable, but I felt like a babysitter more than a ski instructor. The second their parents disappeared, they all got squabbly until I made it a game, like they were trying out for the Olympics. They stopped trying to impress each other and played.”
“Yeah, well, who better to teach them to ski like an Olympian than a former Olympian?” Troy said, keeping his voice down. Nate had confided a little more about his background in recent days, and while the other instructors already knew, given how small the world of skiing was, Nate wasn’t about to invite unnecessary competition from someone who thought they had to prove themselves against him. He didn’t hide, just didn’t bring it up, and for the most part, the others left him alone to do the job.
“They didn’t know that. Neither did the Wakefields. How was your day?”
“Not bad. Had a couple on their honeymoon, and they were some of the happiest people I’ve ever taught, even when husband number one face planted when husband number two cut him off. I expected to referee, but it turned into a big snowball fight. I’ve never been so cold in my life.”
Nate laughed and shoved into his boots, pulling his parka from his locker.
“Well, apart from that time I got hugged by a ghost,” Troy continued.
Nate stopped, his arm half in the coat sleeve. “You believe in ghosts?”
Looking slightly abashed as well as defiant, Troy gave a grim nod. “I think there are too many people with unexplained phenomena for it not to be true.”
I’ve heard that before, Nate thought, flashing back on his first date with Mitch, who’d said basically the same thing. Only now Nate knew Mitch could actually see ghosts. The memory gave him an idea.
“Do you have time to get a drink right now?”