by WB McKay
"What will they do with our memories?" I asked Belinda while a few of my sisters lit the huge bonfire.
"They'll be collected, carefully preserved, and stored in the mausoleum," she replied, squeezing my shoulder in a half hug. "You might remember us visiting a couple of times when you were a child."
I nodded. "Vaguely. I remember wanting to go and play instead of walking around the creepy white building."
Belinda laughed. "That sounds about right. None of us visit it often. We'd much rather spend time celebrating life than mourning death, but sadness has its time and place as well."
"Like now," I said, another tear rolling down my cheek.
"Like now," she agreed, her hand reaching up to wipe it away.
The rest of the night was spent mostly in silence, each of us watching the fire and contemplating the impact Daphne had on our lives while the fire that should have held her body burned to ash. It left me emotionally wrung out, but ready to let Daphne become a cherished memory rather than a painful one.
The next day anyone interested in celebrating Daphne's life was invited to the Wailing Lakes gym. The bleachers were pushed back and tables filled the space. Daphne hated dancing, so we would have none of it.
Belinda had been awake the whole night baking cupcakes of every flavor. A room filled with a ridiculous number of cupcakes was the best celebration of Daphne's life we could come up with.
Not that many made the journey to Wailing Lakes when compared with my sisters' numbers, but it felt like a lot for a place outsiders never ventured. My sisters who didn't live in Wailing Lakes, including many I'd never met, were the first to arrive. Outsiders that attended included the homicide agents, Hammond, Art, Ava, Phoebe, and Owen. All the FAB agents' attendance could be considered part of their duties as agents on the case, but the truth was that most of the outsiders attended for me, a fact I found more meaningful than I could find words for. There was also a small group of dryads representing Wailing Lakes' nearest neighbors. I suppose, to be fair, there were likely a lot of ghosts in attendance as well. It was harder to keep that fact out of my head lately.
I stuck close to the food tables, keeping an eye on Belinda. While I watched, she fidgeted with three different plates of cupcakes, turning them this way and that. "I've told you a dozen times, Belinda, she would have loved this."
Belinda sighed and stepped up next to me, looking out over the impressive crowd of our sisters, all happily chatting and laughing. There were a few tears here and there, but they were quickly wiped away. "You're right. This is a great celebration." She glanced over at Owen who was sidling closer. "Although I think it could use a little canoodling. I've heard that helps keep grief at bay." She nudged me with her elbow and walked away before I could respond.
"Hello," said Owen, stopping in front of me. He looked striking in his dark suit and tie, one corner of his mouth turned up in a grin. "It's quite a party you've thrown in honor of your sister."
All I could think of was the talk we'd had about dating the last time we'd seen each other. He'd texted me a couple of times to make sure I was all right, but that was simpler than looking into his sparkling green eyes. "That's mostly Belinda," I said, my chin dipping involuntarily when my cheeks warmed.
"Well, I can see your hand in it too," he said, taking the opportunity to grab said hand and rub it with his thumb before interlacing our fingers and dropping our entwined hands to rest comfortably at our sides. "You've perfectly arranged the tables so there's enough space for gathering, but not enough space for dancing."
I wanted to reply with a witty comment, but it took all of my concentration to lift my gaze from our hands and remember what I'd been meaning to tell him for the last couple of days. I never realized that hand-holding was so intimate. "Thank your for your help with the research and the battle at the marsh. I couldn't have closed this case without you."
His eyes twinkled in that mischievous way of his. "Another favor?" His hand squeezed mine, and the hot cinnamon and metal smell of his magic swelled. "I expect I'll be accumulating a lot of those."
That was one thing I'd learned about making friends in the last several weeks: favors came with the territory. Strangely, with Owen, it didn't make me that uncomfortable, but that was probably because of his intoxicating smell. "Nope, that's all you're going to get, mister," I said, meaning it fervently. I had absolutely no plans to owe him any favors, even if I doubted it would work out that way.
"We'll see about that." His grin turned into a toothy smile. I had the feeling he was going to say more, but Hammond chose that moment to walk up and Owen's smile evaporated. It was replaced by a professionally polite mask. If he weren't still holding my hand and caressing it with his thumb, I might not have recognized him.
"I'm relieved to see you still have the scythe." Hammond nodded to my left hand. I'd been carrying it around since retrieving it from Clarissa, and I barely thought of it now. The reapers had given Hammond clear instructions: whoever had taken possession of the scythe was required to keep it until they came to collect it. They gave no indication of whether that would be in a few days, or decades. Hammond wasn't concerned with that, only the fear that I'd mess up the simple task as I'd ruined the Paw Paw market. He wasn't shy about his displeasure with me. I knew that silence was the best policy on my part.
"Yep, I've only lost it twice." Of course, I didn't much care what the best policy was.
"Hello Agent Hammond, good to finally meet you." Owen offered his free hand for Hammond to shake.
Never one to let on that he was at a disadvantage, Hammond shook his hand firmly and smiled, waiting for Owen to introduce himself.
"I'm Owen Kinney," he said, putting a little extra emphasis on his last name. "I encountered Sophie during the scythe recovery."
Hammond's eyes opened wide and his smile turned up to a startling intensity. He looked over at me and then down to our linked hands. "Great work, the both of you," he said.
I wasn't sure what to make of that. Hammond, and all FAB brass, had concealment charms that hid their true natures. As a result, I had no idea what kind of fae Hammond was, or whether he was able to lie. It made accepting his compliments difficult. Owen saved me from having to make a cordial response.
"Speaking of our great work on the case, I've done a little more that may aid in prosecuting Ms. Stark for her crimes," said Owen, pulling a folded news article out of his pocket and handing it to Hammond. "I figured out how she was able to see through glamour."
Hammond grimaced and looked down at the folded paper in his hands like it was burning him. He obviously knew where Owen was going, but he asked anyway. "How's that?"
"It seems a pair of enchanted spectacles were touted as being locked away safely at the MOD office." From the tone of Owen's voice, it was obvious Hammond was the one doing the touting. "Those spectacles were considered dangerous because they could see through any glamour. I would think something like that would warrant being secured in a manner that a witch with low-level security clearance wouldn't be able to get them, but what do I know? I'm just a civilian."
Damn! Owen had just implied my boss was completely incompetent. Did he have a personal grudge against Hammond? I wasn't sure I cared what his reason was. He'd just said something I'd wanted to say for years, but couldn't if I wanted to keep my job. I squeezed his hand in gratitude.
"Which is precisely why we required the scythe be kept in Agent Morrigan's possession, rather than being taken into MOD custody," said a cool voice to my left.
All three of us startled. There hadn't been anybody there a second before. Now there were group of two women and a man, all wearing plain black clothes and somber expressions. The reapers. It was the taller of the two women who spoke. She continued when it was obvious none of us had recovered from the shock of their appearance. "We appreciate your efforts to recover my sister's scythe. You have proven yourself a worthy ally and your assistance will not be forgotten."
Now that she'd pointed it out, the res
emblance to the dead woman on the beach was clear. I handed her the scythe and she took it reverently. I had a moment to wonder where the reapers' scythes were before I remembered the questions I had wanted to ask them. "I have two questions if you would be kind enough to answer them," I said. The weight of the woman's gaze was palpable. "And also, I'm sorry for your loss."
She inclined her head, indicating her approval and her acceptance of my condolences. The two standing behind her were still as statues. I never even saw them blink. I guessed there was no need to act intimidating when everyone assumed you could snuff out their life in the blink of an eye.
"First, can you tell me if Daphne was able to move on?" There was no need to explain my concern. It would only serve to draw unneeded attention to the reaper's death.
"Yes, both our sisters' souls were safely escorted home." A single tear trailed down her cheek and dripped off her chin. "And your second question?"
I nodded, relief washing over me. It meant a lot to know that Daphne was safely in the afterlife and not wandering Earth as a lost ghost. "What was your sister's name?" It felt important to be able to remember her as something other than "the reaper".
"Imogen," said the reaper, a slight quirk at the corner of her mouth that may have been a smile.
It wasn't lost on me that I didn't know the woman's name who was standing in front of me. Somehow it seemed inappropriate to ask. Maybe I was learning manners after all.
"Until we meet again, Sophie Morrigan," she said, disappearing between one blink and the next.
A smile spread across my face. I wasn't entirely sure whether that was a reaper version of a joke, or a simple farewell, but I found that I would like to see her again, even it was just to escort my soul.
Hammond huffed and walked away, a wise decision considering the tenor of conversation before the reapers had arrived.
I returned to watching the party and let out a sigh of contentment, my hand comfortable in Owen's. I wasn't sure what it said about me that this was the best day I could remember in quite a while.
"You look peaceful," said Owen.
"I am," I said. "Don't worry." I squeezed his hand. "I never stay that way for long."
A Note From the Author
Thank you for reading Reaped from Faerie. We hope you enjoyed Sophie's journey. If you loved this book, one of the best things you can do is leave a review for it on Amazon.com. Thanks again for joining us on this adventure. We have a lot more planned for this world, and we can't wait to share it with you.
Watch out for Hidden by Faerie (Stolen Magic, #3) coming soon! To be notified when it's released, sign up for the WB McKay newsletter at McKayManor.com.
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