by Pamela Labud
But Jessie was ancient history and even though centuries had passed, and he still ran into her from time to time, there was a pang of regret whenever he dredged up those old feelings.
He was so deep in his thoughts that he almost missed the Reaper's next gesture. Looking down he saw that she held out a ten-dollar bill.
"A tip?"
"It's as good as I give, so you better take it."
Max laughed. "I don't take tips, madam. I allow guests here for my friends on the hospitality council, so it's not necessary. And, as for breakfast, I'm not what you'd call an early riser myself, so I suggest you set the alarm clock at the bedside and you may have free range of the house, including the kitchen."
"Oh?"
"Again, this is my home, not a hotel."
"Right. Well then, is there anything else?"
He stood there, mouth open. Was there?
For the first time in ages, he was intrigued. "I suppose not. Um, I've just called for a pizza, if you're interested."
"No thanks. I'm too tired to eat right now. I just need a shower and that bed over there..."
"Good night." He pulled the door shut and stood staring at it for a moment. "What the devil is wrong with me?"
Of course, he had to be careful what he said, because with all sorts of beings around, someone was liable to answer him.
More than his alarming attraction to the Reaper, there was his concern over being Reaped. While he'd like to spend more time with his hot little house guest, he had to be careful. It wouldn't be the first time an Immortal threw away his fate at the hands of l'amour.
That would be bad.
Very bad.
CHAPTER TWO
To her delight, and for the first time in months, Holly slept without a problem. Straight through the night until morning. She would have kept on sleeping, too, if Artemis hadn't started her early morning birdsong.
"Really?" She cracked one eye open and peered at the white cockatiel.
"What?" the bird squawked.
Flopping back in the bed, Holly bit down a curse. "You're not singing, are you? And since when do Cockatiels like Pavarotti?"
"Hey." The bird rustled its feathers. "For your information, I've had classical training."
"Really?" Holly sent her friend a sideways look.
The bird huffed and turned its tail feathers upward. Of course, Holly knew that Artemis wasn't strictly of the avian persuasion. But, she was not an opera singer, either.
Not wanting to pluck her friend any further, Holly turned on her side and pulled the blanket up over her head. Not at all like your standard hotel bed, the guest bedroom in the funeral home was quite comfortable. and not nearly as off-putting as it looked from the street.
Though an unusual lodging, the place had old style charm to it. From the comfy feather bed, to the lace curtains on the windows and the polished hardwood floor, it was beyond nice.
The place was charming.
Of course, if you had a bent for such things, that was great. Holly, not so much. She preferred a more urban setting, and while she was long overdue for a vacation, this was definitely not her ideal getaway.
She had to admit, the Nocturne Falls brochures were inviting, and like every other person of the magical persuasion, she'd once considered settling down here when her Reaper bid was over. Now that she was here, trapped in small town goodness, she realized it probably wasn't for her.
She liked deep sea fishing or dense South American trails. But snoozing in a quaint village?
Not her cup of tea.
"Mmm, tea."
A gentle tapping sounded on her bedroom door.
"Hello?" A young woman's voice called from the hall. "Miss Dent? I've come to tell you that breakfast is ready. Mr. Max doesn't keep the spread out long, so you better get down there."
"He said he didn't do breakfast for his guests?"
"Oh, he doesn't. In fact, you're the first. It's a bit of a surprise, actually."
Who's he trying to impress? Well, she didn't need special favors, that was for sure.
Holly sat up and stretched. "I don't suppose there's a donut shop anywhere nearby?"
"Uh, not close, no."
"Right. I'll be down in ten." Of course, he'd intimated that she'd be doing her own cooking. Well, it looked like maybe he wasn't too enthused about having guests but he knew that they would have to eat.
Holly's stomach growled.
The woman giggled. "Um, better make it seven."
Before Holly could argue further, the footsteps disappeared within seconds. "A witch. He's an Immortal who employs a witch."
Artemis squawked behind her. "How do you know she's his servant? Maybe she's his girlfriend. Or, wife..."
Holly didn't know why, but the thought of the tall, handsome funeral Director-Immortal being in a relationship with a cute witch didn't sit well with her.
Holly's only concern was that she faced as little opposition as possible when she Reaped the guy. After all, a screaming, hysterical loved one made it unpleasant for everyone. It's not like they couldn't get together in the afterlife.
Few people even considered that. Still, even for the romantic, living had a term limit. Death was forever.
Holly rubbed her eyes. "I'd better get on with it," she told Artemis. "This guy's not going to Reap himself. Of course, I suppose I could have a muffin and a cup of coffee before I get to work, right?
Busy munching on a fresh honey and seed stick, Artemis had little to say. It was clear that she didn't like being interrupted during her meal. When Holly flicked the cage, she was rewarded with the bird version of a spitting, wing-fluttering hissy fit.
"Whatever," the bird squawked.
Twenty minutes later, Holly was dressed in her 'time to get serious' outfit which consisted of a sensible black pantsuit, pearl jewelry, and her hair pulled severely back into a bun. Nearsighted, she usually wore her contacts, but the long journey and the threat of allergies had made her decide to wear her glasses. She looked like a high school junior wearing grownup clothes, but Holly didn't care. Slipping on her Reaper robe, she pulled the hood up and took one last look in the mirror.
While she had no bags under her eyes, Holly looked tired. Not the sort of exhaustion that plagued a person after months of traveling — she would have expected that. She noticed there was a slight change in her pallor. There was also a world-weary shadow around her eyes and unmistakable sadness at the set of her mouth. In fact, to anyone who knew her, she was sure she looked downright depressed.
And Depression never looked good on a Reaper.
"It'll have to do," she told her reflection.
The minute she opened her bedroom door, she smelled the thick scent of fresh baked cinnamon rolls and hot coffee. It was just like that sweets place at the mall when she was a kid.
Making her way to the first floor, Holly followed the smell of cinnamon until she reached the dining table.
"Hello," the proprietor said. He stood and motioned to a chair at the table. "Let Millie set you up. Coffee? Juice? Water?"
Almost giddy from the smell of food, Holly could barely answer. "All three, please. And one of those lovely buns."
"Of course."
Suddenly, a woman appeared from out of nowhere. Short, round and wearing a cheerful expression, she looked like a typical British maid, complete with black dress, white cap and apron.
"Hullo, Miss. Good morning to you."
Before Holly had a chance to thank her, the servant set a plate complete with cinnamon bun and fresh cream cheese icing in front of her. A hot cup of coffee and a small juice glass followed in short order.
"Oh my," Holly said, giving the woman a sideways glance. "This looks amazing. How did you know..."
Her host cleared his throat. "Millie is an ephemeral, you know, a ghost with psychic abilities."
"I know what an ephemeral is."
"Right. Anyways, since she knows what I want
before I do, I find her a great time saver."
"Oh, wow." Holly looked at the plate before her. "That looks fantastic."
"Wait until you taste it. Positively orgasmic."
That was when it happened. The man's voice definitely had an effect on her. Suddenly, she had a flash of herself engaging in a deep, sensual kiss with her host.
Holly shook her head. "Oh, um. Okay."
She picked up her fork and cut off a nice chunk of the cinnamon bun and popped it into her mouth. Her appetite flared and before she knew it, she'd eaten the bun, finished her second cup of coffee and downed the juice in a single swallow.
Her host, on the other hand, hadn't even touched his own meal.
"You do have a healthy appetite."
Refusing to feel embarrassed, Holly quickly wiped her mouth. "That was amazing. I didn't eat lunch yesterday and dinner on the train..."
"Was less than adequate. I completely understand. It's one of the reasons I abhor travel. Of any kind."
Holly sat back, finally sated, and at the same time glad that there wasn't more food on the table to tempt her. "It must be a very sad life you lead, staying at home all the time. Dealing with death at every turn." A thought occurred to her. "I can relieve those feelings of loneliness and boredom. I can help..."
Leaning forward, she gazed deep into his eyes, drawing him in and using all the persuasive powers her position as a soul collector had gifted her with.
"Really?"
"Think about it. No more pain and suffering. Only peace."
To her delight, her subject stared back at her, obviously caught in her spell, pulled toward her by the tone and timbre of her voice. In the space of a few short breaths, he would surrender to her and once her control was locked onto him, they'd begin their journey to the after world. It saddened her a little, though. He'd fallen so easily. In truth, she would have welcomed a challenge.
"I promise," she told him.
Then, in the next second, her control bubble popped and he burst into laughter. Loud, obnoxious, and absurdly adorable. If she hadn't been so angered at his ruse, she might have enjoyed his laughter.
"You thought you had me, didn't you?" He howled, slapping the table as he laughed. "I don't know when I've been so amused. You were such an easy target."
"Right." Acting way more ticked off than she was, Holly crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. "Joke all you want, laughing boy, this is serious. The order is here. You must come with me. It's the law."
He settled down and though she was sure it was more for her benefit than for decorum, he swallowed back his mirth and sent her a more serious expression.
"So, I've heard. But, it's not my law."
"You're a member of the race of Magics, aren't you?"
He shrugged. "That's where it gets a bit twisty. Actually, I'm not. Because of my immortal status, I'm not considered human. Other than living a long time, I don't have any magical power. I don't sustain myself off blood and have no advanced powers of sight or speed. Nor do I shift to a different form or wield spells. I'm just your run of the mill..."
"Immortal," she finished for him. "Whether you believe it or not, not dying is a sort of magic. The papers I have..."
"Are wrong. Now, you're welcome to stay at my home if you like, but this Reaper nonsense will not be tolerated."
He stood up and threw his napkin on the table, grinning as if he were the cat who'd just consumed all the cream.
Holly ground her jaw. Maximillian Hyland might as well have slapped her with a glove. It was a challenge and she'd never been one to run off with her tail between her legs.
"Fine." She stood up, matching her stance to his. "You should know, I'm going to be here as long as it takes."
"Well then, I hope you can figure it out by the end of the week. Then, the festival is over and, room or no room, you're outta here."
"You're going to throw me into the street?"
He'd reached the door, not even turning around as he yelled back. "Watch me."
And watch him, she did.
As he turned and walked out of the room...
Of course, it wasn't a bad view. The guy was drop dead gorgeous. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long, lean limbs and a swagger that could make a girl swoon. Dark brown hair and hypnotic silver eyes, with a British accent, too.
He'd been made to drive women wild.
"I'm not just any woman," she muttered under her breath. And, though she'd met some pretty attractive people in her time as a Reaper, she'd never considered dating one.
But, she thought, if she were to ever fall for any of her clients, this guy would be the one.
Shaken by the power behind that thought, Holly knew that she could no longer trust herself.
"It's time to call in the big guns," she muttered, rising from the table. Pulling out her cell phone, she started to ask where she could make a private call, Millie appeared in front of her.
"The den is down the hall, on the right, Miss. Very private."
"Right." She needed to get this Reap done. Having someone serve your every whim could get addictive. Not to mention, distracting.
"Don't get used to it," she muttered to herself.
Besides, Mr. Hyland was certainly distracting enough on his own.
#
While Max had made a grand exit from the dining room, he hadn't felt as confident about his future as he'd let on. Thanks to a late-night internet search, he'd learned that more and more Immortals were being hit with 'living beyond estimable time' litigation. Basically, the High Council of Reapers was looking at the length of life issues and how it affected those of the 'less' long-lived races. Though none had been successful to date, it was a very real possibility that the same circumstances which had made Immortals safe from Reapers, was now the very thing that might be their undoing.
Something had to be done and fast.
Unfortunately, that meant he'd have to take some drastic measures. First of which involved calling on the last person on the planet he wanted to deal with.
"Yes, I've been trying to reach Matthew Highland for twenty minutes. I know he's there. Tell him I need to speak with him and it's not about the money he owes me." He waited, tapping his foot impatiently.
Matthew, or rather Matty as he was called by everyone who knew him, was not good with handling money. A few decades back, he'd been in a bit of a financial strait and, against his better judgment, Max had helped him out.
If that were the only issue between them, Max would have let it go. But, the truth was they hadn’t been close for a few decades. Words had been said in haste and all. Deeper things were left unresolved between them. Now, more than ever, they needed to stand united. If he had to plead a case in front of the High Council, it would be better for them to stand together.
The night before, when he'd taken the cute little Reaper in and given her shelter, he'd thought he was simply being a good Samaritan. He thought that all her ramblings about him being her next Reap was a result of late night confusion, public drunkenness, or an unbalanced mind. Perhaps all three.
But then, when he'd sat with her at the breakfast table, he realized how serious she was, and, combined with his research, a real threat hovered over him.
Which was too bad because, even with her intention of ending is life, she was the most fascinating person he'd ever met and it took all his resolve to keep his distance.
All his resolve.
Thankfully, Max's thoughts on his guest were cut short when his brother finally answered his call.
"Hello, Max, my bro. How goes it?"
"Why is it whenever you need money, I'm on your speed dial and when there's even a hint I might need something, you suddenly disappear?"
"Maxie. You don't think I avoid you on purpose? That I only reach out for you when I need something and then the rest of the time pretend you don't exist?"
Of course, that's exactly what Max thought, but it would do no good
to push the point. And, to be fair, he did want something.
"I hate to bother you, but I need some info. Someone has mixed up files and I've got a Reaper on my hands who has a contract on me."
"You? Are you sure? Like, we're immortal..."
"I know..."
"Supposed to live forever..."
"I know that, too." Max did his best to stay patient with his twin.
"Did you tell her that?"
"I did. She's most insistent."
The truth was, his younger-by-ten-minutes twin brother was into a lot of things. Bad things. Like organized crime and under official radar things. For their entire adult life, Max had managed to avoid learning too much about Matty's life, but on occasion, he had proved useful.
Max was the straight arrow and his twin was a little bit fluid when it came to going around corners. While he would have preferred to keep his distance, it looked like Max was going to have more than a few corners ahead of him now.
"A determined woman. Don't you hate when that happens? I haven't heard anything. Then again, I haven’t exactly had my ear to the magical turf, if you get my meaning. Give me a few days and I'll get back to you."
"Thanks, and hey, no longer than that, eh? This chick is determined to take me, no matter what. If she calls in the big guns, we may end up attending a funeral."
"No kidding. Where you goest, I goest," Matty said. His somber tone was not a joke. Twin Immortals — only alive if the other lived. In their case, it was a two for one ride on the river of life.
"Right. Talk to ya, soon."
Max set his phone on the table and sat back in his chair. While he didn't want to accept that he'd been called to pay the ferryman, it was a distinct possibility.
Just then a gentle tapping sounded at his study door. "Yes?"
His secretary, Melody Tanner stuck her head in the room. A classic brunette beauty, she bore a resemblance to a young Liz Taylor, violet eyes and all. A vibrant witch, she could have spent her days spinning one spell after another. Why she chose to work in a funeral home was beyond him. Not one to question his good luck, he'd been glad to hire her and decided that her choice of career was just that — her choice, her business.