by Y. K. Greene
She bounced and started to get up annoyed but he was standing there with a smile on his face and arms crossed, to remind her she was not allowed to get up. Indignant she found herself reaching for the first thing she could get her hands on, the remote control, and flung it at him. In such close quarters it was bound to hit even though he ducked, a look of surprise on his face. It bounced harmlessly off of his shoulder and then he was upon her, fingers digging into her ribs and suddenly she was laughing and kicking uncontrollably.
“So the great and mighty Death is ticklish,” Leo said when he finally let up and she was able to breath. “That knowledge would definitely be bad for your image, maybe even business. Imagine all the trouble you’d get into if the dying knew they could incapacitate you with a round of tickles.”
He was still laughing but the thought made her sit up. “Please, do not tell anyone. Please – so much is already wrong; I already have so many problems to deal with. Please Leo –“
In a moment he was lifting her legs and sitting down on the couch beside her, putting her legs in his lap and hugging her fiercely. “Jeez you freak easy, I’m not really going to tell anyone. I’m not going to tell any of your secrets Mitei.”
“Really,” she felt herself shiver despite the warmth of the day and his arms around her. “Are you really my friend Leo? Will you keep my secrets?”
“Of course I’ll keep your secrets. I’d do that even if I wasn’t your friend, which I already am.” He pulled back so he could make full eye contact and she looked deep into those purple eyes, wishing she could read what they were trying to tell her. “Being your friend isn’t going to be easy on me though. It’s going to take some adjustment I think, but I’m going to try, ok?”
She nodded and he lifted her legs off his lap getting up and heading back through the kitchen, presumably to get those shoes she had been wearing today. So it was just as hard on him being friends with her as it was confusing for her. Well that was good to know at least, even if she could not quite figure out the source of her confusion. She had had male secretaries before. Over the years and in different times there always seemed to be a handful of males that made wonderful secretaries for her. There was one at her New York City office now, but for some reason these men though different from her female secretaries also seemed to be completely different from Leo. She sighed, at a loss, as Leo reappeared, her lemonade in one hand and her shoes in the other.
“Leo can I see your chest?”
“Not that I’m not eager to undress at any female’s command, why?”
“I just want to see where you were shot again.”
Leo unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders a bit and she leaned forward to take a closer look. The skin was mostly smooth, a few hairs here and there which she understood were not uncommon for men, but there were no signs of the scar he should have had after that gunshot and the subsequent surgery. No signs of the staples or stitches they had used to close the edges of the wound. She ran her fingers over the flesh, he was warm, nearly hot to her touch and the hiss he drew in told her she was cold to his, still there were not any signs of the wound she had touched at the hospital.
She looked up into his eyes but could not read them. “If I can take someone with me on the Path, will you come to Philadelphia with me?”
He sighed and took her hand off his chest, pulling his shirt closed and buttoning it all the way back up before replying. “It depends on a lot of things. Why don’t you concentrate on figuring out if you can take someone on your path and then ask me again? Better yet, why don’t you call me? Did you get that cell phone yet?”
“There was not enough time, but I did place an order for one.”
“Good,” he said and put her shoes on her feet, then swung her legs off his lap and onto the floor. “I’m in the phone book when you’re ready give me a call alright.”
“Alright,” she got up, feeling dismissed and not knowing why; she had not even finished her lemonade yet, “goodbye Leo.”
She took a step and vanished before she could hear his reply.
***
Mid-afternoon on another Deathless day and Leslie fully intended to make the most out of this time. After the morning meetings and the careful deployment of employees to appointments she normally had very little left to do with her day. Unless there was a dignitary that needed meeting with or she had a few appointments of her own that day. Today there were neither for her to deal with and Death hadn’t been in the office all day. This was the perfect timing for her to make a visit to the library on Death’s level.
She navigated the maze on the upper floor with the ease of long practice. There had been a time when she’d first come to the company and gained access to Death’s floor when she’d been seemingly endlessly fascinated with the maze, all it’s twists, turns and secrets. There were a few guest rooms on this level, scattered throughout points of the maze that made them almost impossible to find twice. Perfect for those rare occasions that there were guests in the building, at least the guests that you wanted to awe and cower.
These guest rooms were opulent with every luxury, except a map and real windows. Anyone that found themselves being ushered into one of those rooms was usually escorted there by a chattering secretary or Death herself. Kept distracted they were soon completely lost in the maze and by the time they reached their quarters had little hope of finding their way out on their own. Most of them were also too arrogant to admit that they were completely lost, the few that did were usually told just not to wander far from their door and that a secretary would be along shortly to see to them. The more arrogant ones would still often wander out into the maze.
They’d get lost though not hopelessly so. Where the maze didn’t lead to a guest room there were traps. Nothing to harm anyone, though there had been this one very fat, very blusterous dignitary that had crawled into a ‘rabbit’ hole and gotten himself stuck trying to reach the garden on the other side. Leslie smiled to herself as she took a series of sharp turns and climbed a set of incredibly narrow steps.
In truth there was at least three different ways to get to Death’s offices from the elevators. Two that she’d discovered personally over way too much time spent here and one that she’d been told the secretaries often used to bring Death things on. This third was supposedly the straightest of the paths, with wide hallways and an even floor in case things needed to be wheeled or carried in. However, this path, with its narrow stairs and sharp turns, was Leslie’s favorite. This was the path that ended at Death’s library.
The steps seemed to go up straight to a dead end but there was a hidden doorway before their peak. Little more than a narrow slit in the wall this doorway led to an even more narrow space, that turned out to be the back of an impossibly huge set of built in shelves on one side of the library. Once she cleared the shelves the light of the day streamed into the room in beams from high windows along one wall. The library was a virtual forest of shelves. Unevenly spaced and each filled with books of various quality and context, these shelves didn’t even all match of a height because this room was one of the last rooms before the offices the floor here had several levels as the ground was evened back out to that of the original floor.
Of the many things Leslie had seen as a member of this company, this maze was probably the most strange, fascinating and magical of all the things that it had to offer. It awed, even after years, it still awed and it inspired. Every time she stepped from behind that last bookcase and into the light of the library she took a deep appreciative breath. There were more direct routes to the office, she’d probably end up taking one such on her way out if Death caught her chatting with her secretaries. But this was definitely her favorite.
There were tables scattered throughout the library, each placed so that the light would fall perfectly on them at various points in the day, with light sensitive lamps that turned on in the evenings and acted as beacons through the small maze of shelves. Leslie noticed a figure flitting f
rom shelf to shelf, putting books away or pulling them off the selves she wasn’t sure. She paused a moment where she was, trying for a better look at the other person before stepping toward them.
“Ah, just the woman I wanted to see.”
***
Megan looked up from the pile of books she was sorting on the table, “oh hello Leslie.”
Leslie walked up to the table and sat down in the only chair there, leaning back comfortably. “Is Death in today Meg?”
“No Mitei isn’t,” she said and continued sorting. “Though I suspect you already know that as well as you already know her new name.”
“Oh come on Nutty, you’ve got to admit it’s hard to tell when that one comes and goes.”
Megan stopped sorting to glare at her, “it never ceases to surprise me how you know just the right thing to say - to piss me off.”
“What?” Leslie made wide eyes and placed her hands on her chest, “we’ve been calling you that for years Nutty, it’s just a nickname.”
“A nickname you started and I always hated.”
Leslie smiled and raised her hands in an exasperated gesture. “I’m sorry Megan, really. If you like I’ll start asking the family to stop calling you that right this minute.” She pulled her cell phone out of a pocket, flipping it open one handed and started to dial.
“Don’t bother,” Megan sighed going back to her books. “I don’t think anything short of Mitei herself will make my parents stop at this point and the rest I barely speak to now.”
Leslie closed the phone with a satisfying snap; it was a good thing Megan had conceded. She hadn’t talked to her aunt or uncle in so many years she wasn’t sure she still knew their number. She put the phone on the table, setting it spinning with a finger she watched it catch the light on its slim, shiny surface and knew Megan must be watching it spin as well.
“Do you like it? I was thinking of getting Mitei one for Christmas.”
“Mitei won’t accept gifts from employees.”
“Well she’ll have to make an exception. It’s high time she had one of her own.” She said, picking the small phone back up and slipping it back into a pocket. “All things considered she’s completely unreachable most of the time. Never mind that she’s made this her main office for the season, it’s still nearly impossible to get a hold of her for meetings, what if something came up?”
Megan grunted and lifted a small pile of books, moving to the shelves to put them away. “She’s aware of that Leslie. I think she’s already getting one, from Tokyo, she said something about making her Japanese secretaries happy.”
“Happy?”
“Yeah they get almost as excited over electronics as they do over clothes; she’s expecting to have a hoot with them.”
“I suppose she’ll get something even better than this then,” Leslie said, smiling behind her cousins back. “Honestly I’d love to see it when she gets it. Maybe I can get something similar.”
“You’ll probably be able to see it, though I doubt they’ll come with English settings,” Megan said as she came back to the table and grabbed another pile of books. “I imagine she’ll probably get something top of the line. I just hope it isn’t too fragile. Things get broken too easily if they’re in her pockets sometimes.”
“I’m sure she could get it replaced easily enough.” She looked at her cousin, watching the taller, stronger woman shelve books for a while. She’d gotten the information she’d wanted out of her at least for the moment, but if she was going to be about in the library all day then she wouldn’t have the chance to relax among the books as she’d previously planned.
“I wonder why she’s suddenly taken to this new form.” There was a pause as Megan took in her words and then kept re-shelving books. “I mean it’s so – off putting – and strange. It doesn’t look even remotely human. Though the men seem to like it fine I fear she’s distancing herself from her female employee’s.”
“Don’t you worry too much about how Mitei looks or people might start saying you’ve become catty.”
“It’s not just her looks, Megan,” Leslie said with a dismissive laugh. “It’s the new name. This is too much change for the employee’s to assimilate easily, too fast.”
“Consider it like a makeover,” Megan said coming back to the table and meeting Leslie’s gaze with arms crossed over her considerable bosom. “Women go through them often enough, after all you’re natural color is brown isn’t it?”
Leslie smiled up at her, “that it is. Still, for an immortal being to suddenly – Oh never mind. I suppose I should make an appointment to speak with Death about all this myself anyway.” She stood up, straightening her suite and turned towards the office exit, best not to return the way she’d come or she might be distracted while she was in the maze and end up like that fat dignitary.
“I’m sure she’d love to hear all about your opinions of her personal appearance Leslie.”
“Do be a dear and tell her I’d like to see her a moment when she’s back in the office will you?”
“Of course, I am her secretary after all.”
Yes, Leslie thought as she left the library and entered Death’s office proper, you are just her secretary.
***
It was evening and Mitei found herself lost in the woods. From the brilliant foliage of some of the trees she could tell she was somewhere on the east coast of the U.S. or maybe Canada, hard to tell when all she saw where trees.
The Path seemed in no hurry so she paused beside a huge tree, its leaves all decked out in shades of gold for the season, and rested her head against the trunk. She could feel the tree’s mind, almost as different from a human’s as that of a snake or a fly, so much slower and full of the same joy she had felt in all the trees she had ever managed to take a moment with. With her head pressed against one of them like this, she wondered again that if she could clear enough time somehow and came to a forest like this one, could she learn the slow language of the trees?
She could hear them easily enough but their thoughts were so slow she had often heard the fading echoes of their dying screams in trees that had been felled long before she found them. She suspected that she could spend a whole year in a forest like this, learning the language together with the young saplings and still only have touched a few syllables of a word. Sighing she closed her eyes and let the trees wordless joy wash over her. It was familiar to her this joy, not entirely dissimilar to the joy she had felt during the earthquake; a joy of being and everything being in its place, light for their leaves and water for their roots, rich earth to feed on and so many others to sing with.
But, she had not come here for this tree. Or probably any of its brethren, it was a rare thing when the Path brought her to dying trees. Probably some of the most horrific scenes she had ever witnessed even considering the various plagues. Some were of the opinion that trees did not feel pain and were absolutely merciless in their felling. Walking into a forest that had been clear cut for firewood, nothing left but screaming stumps filled with the memory of each of their limbs being ripped away and then torn apart right to their base. The poor things could hold on for so long, by the time that they had realized anything was really amiss it was far too late for screaming, a mercy she supposed.
Still, today was not a trees day to die. There was no real way that she could be sure of that. She had managed to give all the names on her list to her employees for the next several hours, so whatever reasons she was here for there was no name on her list to guide her. Nothing but the Path, still as unpredictable as it had been lately she had no reason to doubt that it would ever keep her away from one of her appointments and indeed in a few minutes more of walking she started to see telltale signs.
The underbrush of the forest here was broken and speckled now and then with blood, as if something of a relatively large size had come crashing through in some considerable distress. Still the Path did not seem to be in any hurry so she took her time trying to follow the trail, losin
g it on occasion and having the Path warp her back onto it further along. So she had time to wander, but not to completely lose the trail. After a while she noticed a scrap of brown fur on a twig and a bit later a muddy hoof print.
Deer then, she thought and stumbled up the side of a muddy embankment, expensive and impractical Italian shoes sinking and sliding in the mud, just one more reason she needed to suggest a change in apparel to her secretaries. At least she had pulled the robe on over her clothes when she found herself in the woods, along with the usual spell of disinterest. She was not expecting to find any humans in these woods, but they seemed to be everywhere nowadays and caution never hurt her. Humans on the other hand, had hurt her plenty over the years.
There, ahead of her through the trees she could make out a patch of brown through the deepening gloom under the canopy. A few steps closer and she was sure, she had found her deer. There was what looked like an arrow stuck deep within its chest. Its whole front was covered with its own drying blood and it struggled with increasingly frantic and feeble attempts to stand, to run, to get away from whoever had shot it and anything else that might want to take advantage of its weakened condition.
Mitei settled in beside it on her knees. One hand gentle on its muzzle feeling its last breaths come in frantic bursts, while the other reached for its chest and the piercing arrow.
Poor thing, if she really had the power to save it, the power to heal, she thought perhaps she would use it now. This kind of death was nearly senseless, no wonder the Path had brought her to this deer sometimes they had trouble accepting their deaths at hunters’ hands. As a species they were born already expecting to struggle hard against natural predators, against cold and food shortages. But born into the seeming utopia of the modern age, with no predators and abundant food supplies even help surviving some harsh winters and occasionally being fed straight out of some people’s back yards, when it came to a sudden end to what seemed like heaven - she sighed.
The deer had to die, its heart had been pierced and she did not have the power to change that. Nor did she have the time to make judgment calls, especially not when she of all beings knew the score on this so very, very well.