Reaper (Lightbringer)

by K. D. McEntire

  “We'll be out of there in no time,” Wendy promised, gingerly patting her sister on the shoulder. “Seriously, Chel, you've got only two years left. That's nothing.”

  “Says the senior,” grumbled Chel, scowling. “You weren't the one who got dumped right before New Year's. I had mega-plans and now I don't dare show my face at any of the parties.” She sniffed. “Now all there is to do is clean, clean, and clean some more.”

  “Yeah, Jon told me everything you did. Looking good downstairs, you really outdid yourself there. You had to vent out the frustration?”

  “Pretty much,” Chel said, sighing. “Hey, Wendy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That chick? From this morning? Is she that doctor from the hospital?”

  “Yeah,” Wendy said. “She is.”

  “I don't like her.” Chel rubbed one hand across her eyes. “She rubs me the wrong way. Maybe…maybe you should, like, I don't know, avoid her for a bit.”

  “No problem. Already in the plan.” Wendy glanced at the clock. If the timestamp on the answering machine had been right, Jane and Emma were due any minute now. Wendy patted her sister gently on the shoulder. “You gonna grab a nap before the ball drops?”

  “Yeah. I think so.” Yawning and rolling over, Chel closed her eyes and rested an arm over her face. “Shut the door on your way out, please. And turn off the light, okay? Wake me up at like, eleven or so, if I'm still konked out.”

  “Cool beans,” Wendy agreed easily. “Midnight with the fam. Sounds kick ass.”

  “Don't let Jon eat all the cookies,” Chel added as Wendy shut the door. “My social life is shot; I might as well get a twin lard-ass at this point.”

  Feeling out of sorts and unsure whether to attribute her foul mood to Chel or to her fever, Wendy ducked into the bathroom to check her temperature.

  “100.8,” she noted, shaking the thermometer, tempted to try again. “That's not good.”

  That girl burned up, right? Wendy thought, trying to remember exactly what Nana Moses had said about the other natural. She couldn't use her powers either.

  Slowly, carefully, Wendy tried to shift into the Lightbringer as she'd done earlier in the car on the ride home. She could feel the power there, underneath the mesh of Light Emma had woven over her soul, but it was now completely inaccessible to her. Wendy could touch things in the Never, but she couldn't completely shed her physical form. Every time she tried it hurt a little more.

  Concerned now, Wendy pressed her hands harder against the thin weave, but there was very little give. Beneath her palms her chest felt hot to the touch, the Light burning brighter than before.

  Jane said she'd undo the binding if I asked, right? Wendy thought, closing the medicine cabinet. It seemed like cheating, but it wasn't as if Emma had even checked with her first before binding her. “Screw this,” Wendy muttered. “So what if Emma's going to be a total tool? Jane is still cool. She's got my back.”

  Her eyes burned; Wendy rubbed them and, irritated, filled a glass with water from the tap. Her entire face felt puffy and inflamed, warm to the touch, as she gulped the water down.

  “First things first,” Wendy told her reflection as she set the tumbler back in the corner of the countertop. “Deal with this Emma crap in person, tell her off if I have to. Go to Eddie's, catch up with everyone, make sure they're okay.”

  Wendy rubbed her wrist against her lips. “And then, what? Maybe try fixing Piotr again? It's worth a shot, right?” It seemed like the only thing she could do, honestly.

  Lost in her turbulent, twisting thoughts, Wendy didn't bother to flip on the overhead light when she returned to her bedroom. She was almost at her desk when she realized that the room was significantly fuller than it'd been when she left. Eight dense shadows lined the walls of her room, their cloaks so long that they faded into the floor. It took Wendy several seconds of squinting to make out the shapes.

  Walkers.

  Startled, Wendy tried to step back, but a wave of bitter cold stopped her. A large shadow-Walker had settled between her and the door. “What the—”

  “Lightbringer. Reaper. The Lady Walker will see you,” said the Walker closest to the window. “Now.”

  “Uh, how about no,” Wendy said sharply, mentally scrabbling up against the seal Emma had placed on her Light. She might as well have not tried at all; her attempts to free the Light were, yet again, a total failure. Without access to the Light there was no way to force the Walkers to leave her alone, she realized, horrified.

  Briefly Wendy worried for Piotr and the others; thankfully they were long gone. Piotr was in no shape to handle this sort of crowd. “You and your precious Lady can go to hell, as far as I'm concerned.”

  The Walker who'd spoken reached out and picked up the answering machine in one skeletal hand. Then, flexing its fingers once, the Walker crushed the machine to pieces. In one hand. The metal and plastic shards scattered at her feet.

  “Well, that's going to be hell to get out of the carpet,” Wendy said.

  “You will come,” the lead Walker said softly, its voice chilling Wendy from top to toes. She remembered how, at the hospital, they had laid hands on her and had spoken in that slow, distorted language, how they'd frozen her nearly to the bone. It wasn't an experience Wendy was anxious to repeat.

  “Okay,” she said, holding up her hands. “Just…let me grab a water bottle from the fridge, okay? I've got a fever; you don't want me passing out on the way.”

  The lead Walker nodded once and gestured for the door. Wendy led the way as they merged through the wall behind and around her, escorting her down the stairs in a grim, shadowy march.

  “So,” Wendy asked, pitching her voice in a whisper so Chel wouldn't hear, “why does the Lady Walker really want to see me?”

  Silence from the Walkers.

  Wendy wasn't sure whether to curse or feel glad that Jon wasn't still in the kitchen. The bags from Safeway sitting on the counter indicated that he'd gone shopping and had already come back; there was one last batch of cookies slowly plumping in the oven. The timer counted down with fifteen minutes left and dimly she could make out the sound of the shower in her father's bathroom.

  There was no way she'd be able to get any help from Jon, not that he'd even be able to see what was escorting her toward the back door, and Chel was most likely sawing logs by now.

  Stopping by the fridge, Wendy pulled out a couple of water bottles. The largest Walker stepped forward as if to touch Wendy again and she flung the bottle at its head, knowing that it wouldn't hurt it but might at least startle the Walker enough to give her a chance to flee. Her plan, haphazard as it was, worked. The Walker ducked and Wendy spun on her heel toward the living room, taking three steps toward freedom…

  When the frying pan hanging above the island counter slammed into her shoulder and the fridge tipped over with a huge crash, spilling food everywhere and blocking her exit. Yelling in pain, Wendy tripped, catching herself with her right knee in the cottage cheese and her left hand in the moldy leftover stuffing from Thanksgiving. She'd only just missed ramming her hand into the broken pickle jar; glass shards littered the linoleum.

  The pan hovered above her, angled toward her temple this time. Wendy had to squint to see the Walker holding it.

  “No game, flesh,” the lead Walker hissed quietly. “You've seen what Walkers can do. You will drip red all over if you try to run again. You believe me?”

  “I understand,” Wendy gasped, clutching her shoulder. Upstairs the water stopped and she heard Chel's door open.

  Chel's voice called down. “What the hell was that? Wendy? Jon?”

  “We go now,” the lead Walker said as one of the other Walkers opened the back door. “Move.”

  Practically frog-marching Wendy out the back door and down the side yard, the Walkers led her through the gate and across the driveway.

  As they walked down the drive, Wendy twisted suddenly and dove behind the car. She might not be able to actively use her Light,
but that didn't mean that she couldn't use the Never to her advantage.

  “Reaper filth!” hissed the lead Walker as Wendy led them a merry, stumbling chase across her yard, into her neighbor's and back again. She had a goal in mind, and the Reapers seemed to sense her intentions; they attempted to cut her off, but despite her dizziness, Wendy was quick and sly.

  Darting across her back yard, Wendy narrowly wedged herself through the thin opening Jon had left in the back shed door and triumphantly came up with the rake she'd used to stab the raccoon. It had been a wild guess—Wendy hadn't known for sure that the emotional impact of having to put the poor raccoon down would affect the rake that way—but here it was, solid and firm in the Never, fitting easily in her hands.

  “Foolish Reaper,” hissed the lead Walker. “You can't harm us with—” It staggered back, the rake embedded deeply in its chest, essence seeping around the tines and pattering on the floor.

  “Try again,” Wendy snarled, and grabbed for the shovel, hefting it deliberately. “In case you haven't figured it out, I'm going nowhere, guys.”

  “One Reaper,” said a close Walker. “Only one.”

  “One Reaper,” Wendy mimicked savagely. “Who's playing with you instead of reaping you. Wonder why?” She jutted her chin out and smiled sharply, hoping that her expression was as knowing and gleeful as she was trying to make it. It was all a bluff, but they didn't know that.

  The Walkers stilled.

  “I've got all the time in the world,” Wendy said, winking and spinning the shovel experimentally in her grip. “You think your Lady Walker cares if I mess you up on my way to see her? You're a bunch of dirty child-killers. I can't wait to crush what little remains of you to bits!”

  “Many of us,” the closest Walker hissed. “Still many, many. Many more than you.”

  “Many of you, but no White Lady to fix up your boo-boos,” Wendy retorted. “Funny how that works. No White Lady, no Lost. Just a crazy Lady Walker, I'm told, and now a whole bunch of new Reapers moving back to town…and, I really ought to mention, a couple of them on their way to visit me right now.” Wendy checked her watch and grinned. “Tick tock, fellas.”

  “You lie!”

  “Nope,” Wendy declared triumphantly. “Kind of sucks to be you, huh? How do you plan on protecting your sorry, skeletal asses now with the White Lady gone?”

  Wendy pretended to think. “Oh, right, you can't. And I have a sneaking feeling that the Lady Walker doesn't exactly care about you all, so much as she really likes having you around to get the beatings she's supposed to be receiving.” Wendy jerked her chin at the Walker still writhing on the ground. “Like that one.”

  “Lady Walker guides us. She teaches us,” replied the lead Walker. “She protects us.”

  “Protects you from what? People like me? Well, good luck, but between you and me, I'm getting a wee bit tired of messing with you all. You're just not proving enough of a challenge, I think.” Wendy spun the shovel again and grinned darkly. “I spent aaaallll morning with the Reapers, getting trained up. Wanna see my newest trick?”

  The Walkers fell silent and looked among themselves.

  “Flesh is right,” one finally said, straightening and stepping as far away from Wendy as it could manage. “There is no life here, just dirty Reaper and dirty truths.”

  “The Lady will howl,” whispered another. “She will rend and tear.”

  “Let her,” said another. It reached forward and yanked the rake free of its companion Walker, letting the rake clatter noisily to the shed floor. “Time grows old here. This is senseless. It lacks sense.”

  Wendy said nothing as the lead Walker slipped through the shed's side. The others, even the one she'd stabbed, soon followed. One, smaller than the others, waited a beat behind. “She looks for you, she sniffs the air,” it warned. “She has your taste in her mouth.”

  “Yeah, well, I've got her rotten stench in my nose,” Wendy replied, spitting on the floor. “You see her again, you tell her I'm not scared.”

  “Stupid girl,” the Walker said, shaking its head. “When the Lady rides, we all fear her passing.” Chuckling to itself, the small Walker stepped through the wall and then it, too, was gone.

  Once she was sure the coast was clear, Wendy waited for a minute, then two, before relaxing enough to put the shovel down. She couldn't believe she'd convinced the Walkers to just walk away, that she'd bluffed them into believing she could beat them, that she was toying with them for her own amusement. That was something her mother would do, not Wendy-like at all.

  Stepping through the shed door again took more effort than Wendy could muster. In the heat of the moment she'd been able to squeeze through thoughtlessly, scraping her back and cheek against the rusty doorway, but now, the danger gone, she had to struggle with the shed door and ease out slowly. It squealed unhappily.

  The cold air hit her like a slap and Wendy stripped off her hoodie, relishing the chill. “Whoo boy,” Wendy said and thumped to the grass, flopping down with legs spread wide. Her head was swimming crazily and her breath puffed out in short, staccato bursts that worried part of her. Her lungs, she dimly realized, had begun to seriously ache.

  “Ow,” Wendy complained, pressing a hand against her ribs. In the front of the house she could hear a car pull up.

  “Great,” she muttered. “Now you show up? Fabulous timing, Emma. You're just my mother-frickin’ hero these days.” Then, slowly, Wendy dragged herself to her feet and trudged toward the side gate. “Let's get this over with,” she said. “Eddie and Piotr are waiting.”

  Emma wasn't driving her car.

  “Please, Winifred,” Elise said as Jane hopped out of the passenger side and, grinning, opened the door for Wendy with a dramatic flourish, “have a seat.”

  “Um…okay,” Wendy said, painfully sliding into the back as Jane settled in the shotgun seat. “Hi. So, uh, where are we going?”

  “Just for a quick jaunt around the block, dear,” Elise said, smoothing one hand over her impeccable ’do. The dim light caught the sparkle of the rings on her fingers; a square sapphire, an oval onyx, and a heart-shaped diamond so large that Wendy hoped it was fake, because otherwise she had no clue how Elise had the guts to walk around in public with it sparkling on her finger. “I like meeting this way, for privacy.”

  “Where's Emma?” Wendy asked as Elise pulled onto her street and began circling the block. “She called and left the message that you all were on your way.”

  “As you can see, she did not lie. However, my mother had other…duties for her to attend to,” Elise said. “In our family, duty always comes before personal satisfaction. I'm sure you understand.”

  “Sure do,” Wendy agreed, wondering if Elise was trying to make a pointed remark or was simply bad at small talk. “So, um, you guys have a pamphlet for me or something?”

  “Rules and regs, cuz,” Jane said, digging in a huge messenger bag at her feet. She pulled out a thin manual, much worn, and passed it back to Wendy. “No marks in the margins, now. It's not exactly easy to take this baby up to Kinko's for copies.”

  “These are the basic tenets of being a Reaper,” Elise explained, slowing to a complete stop and waiting exactly three seconds before accelerating past the stop sign. “You are to memorize the first pages in their entirety, do you understand?”

  “Okay,” Wendy said slowly, irritated that Elise was ordering her around already instead of simply asking. “That's it? Any other hoops you want me to dance through?”

  “Winifred, I do not approve of the way your mother handled your situation,” Elise replied stiffly. “As I'm sure you can ascertain. It was unprofessional of Mary at best, nearly traitorous at worst. However, with that said, what's done is done and you are now a Reaper, young lady. It would behoove you to act like one.”

  She shot a sharp glance at Wendy in the rearview mirror and Wendy realized that Elise wasn't just talking about the actual act of reaping.

  “What are you saying?” Wendy asked. “Yo
u guys agree with Emma, then? You don't think I've got what it takes to do the job?”

  “How closely Emma and I see eye-to-eye on the subject of your competence remains to be seen,” Elise said, pursing her lips tightly. “I am willing to allow you an attempt to prove yourself, however, which is more than can be said for some members of the family.”

  “You know, like the ones who actually think you're a total mutant freak,” Jane added chummily. She dug in her pocket and offered Wendy the familiar battered tin. “Gum?”

  “No, thank you,” Wendy said, pushing the tin away. “So, what do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to do nothing but follow orders and be initiated as any other Reaper must,” Elise said evenly, turning the corner. “It is only fair, yes?”

  “Sure, no problem,” Wendy agreed. “I don't wanna piss anyone off. That's no good.”

  “That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” Jane said, twisting in her seat so she could meet Wendy's eyes. “Look, do you remember those Walkers from last night?”

  “Kind of hard to forget,” Wendy said.

  “Yeah, but there's one particular one I'm thinking of,” Jane said. “Maybe I'm wrong, but was there a chick Walker all up in your grill when I, your oh-so-stunning cavalry, arrived.” She waved a hand at her face and grimaced. “Maybe she kinda looks like Two-Face, you know? Half-here, half not?”

  Wendy shivered. “Yes. Definitely.” She thought about mentioning the posse of Walkers she'd just sent on their way but didn't want to give Elise an excuse to shun her for not coming up with a creative way of reaping them despite her binding. Cool, competent Elise seemed the type to blame Wendy for allowing the Walkers to escape rather than rewarding her for simply surviving.

  Elise and Jane exchanged a look. “Please,” Elise said softly, “do not be too concerned, but this Walker is known to our family.”

  “‘Known’ being Grandma-polite-ese for ‘haunts the pants off of us every chance she gets,’” Jane supplied. “I've had stalkers less pushy than this lady, and I've only seen her a couple of times. This chick is seriously wrong on, like, many, many levels.”