by Angela Roquet
Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc.
Graveyard Shift
Pocket Full of Posies
For the Birds
Psychopomp
Death Wish
Ghost Market (coming May 2016)
Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. short stories
Dearly Departed (featured in: Off the Beaten Path)
Hair of the Hellhound (featured in: Badass and the Beast)
Season’s Reapings (standalone holiday short story)
other titles
Crazy Ex-Ghoulfriend
Backwoods Armageddon
Blood Moon
SEASON’S REAPINGS
A LANA HARVEY, REAPERS INC. SHORT STORY
Angela Roquet
Copyright © 2015 Angela Roquet
Distributed by Smashwords
All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For all of my awesome readers.
Happy holidays from Limbo City!
“The Bermuda Triangle got tired of warm weather. It moved to Alaska. Now Santa Claus is missing.”
—Steven Wright
Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies, reclined against my headboard and shook the massive blueprints grasped in his hands. His brow furrowed as he glanced over the new layout for the rebuild of his summer manor in Tartarus. The two helljack puppies that had returned from Olympus with Coreen wrestled between his feet, tangling themselves in the blankets, while Coreen dozed on my pillow. Saul was likely hiding out under Kevin’s bed. He didn’t have as much practice as his sister at sleeping through the chaos.
“The kitchen is still much too small.” Bub dropped the blueprints in his lap, giving me a better view of his naked chest. “Jack will not be pleased.”
I sighed from my closet doorway and buttoned up my jeans. “Jack has moved on. He’s teaching at the academy and working part-time for Meng. If you want a butler, you’re going to have to look elsewhere. Take out an ad in the paper or something.”
One of the puppies attacked Bub’s toes, drawing a hiss from the demon. He burst into a swarm of flies long enough to chase the tiny beast off the bed, then quickly rematerialized back beneath the covers. My eyes lingered where I’d expected to catch a glimpse of him. He grinned impishly when he caught me looking.
“Speaking of taking out an ad,” he said, glaring at the pup as it clumsily crawled up the bedspread on the opposite side. “When are you getting rid of these fiends?”
I shrugged. “I think Kevin’s going to keep one. I haven’t found a taker for the other.”
“Well, they’re chewing on everything, including me.” He reached around the side of the bed and lifted his cane. The decorative engravings had been gnawed away, leaving a bumpy, splintered texture in their place. Bub waved it in the air like an old curmudgeon threatening kids on his lawn. “This isn’t a very respectable way to appear in public.”
I batted my lashes. “Guess you’ll just have to stay in bed until I get back then.”
“I would, but someone has requested that I put up a Christmas tree.” He raised a brow and scowled at me.
I stuck my tongue out and plopped down on the bed to lace up my boots. “I’m feeling festive this year, so sue me. Besides, Christmas is great for gift-giving. We could slap a bow on the other puppy and put it under the tree.”
“And give it to whom?”
“Maybe one of your demon buddies,” I said, leaning across the bed on my elbows to steal a quick kiss.
Bub snorted as I pulled away. “I don’t think I have any demon buddies left, on either side of the war.”
“That’s not true. I’m sure Asmodeus is still in your corner.”
He pressed his lips together and winced before lifting the blueprints up to hide his face.
“You have called him since the Oracle Ball fiasco, right?”
Bub cleared his throat and lifted the blueprints higher. “Maybe we should enlarge the servant quarters. Do you think that would appeal to Jack?”
“He isn’t going to change his mind—and don’t change the subject. You should invite Asmodeus over to help you with the tree,” I said, dipping back inside the closet to grab my work robe.
“What a way to break the ice.” Bub rolled his eyes and crumpled the blueprints in his lap again. “Hey, chum. What’s new? Would you care to come over to the missus’ place while I wrestle up decorations for a holiday commonly celebrated by mortals who detest our lot? I’m all about cozying up with enemies these days, or haven’t you heard?”
“I’m your missus now, am I?” I picked up one of the chew toys from the bedroom floor and tossed it at him, creating a flurry of fluffy panic across the bed.
Bub growled and dissolved into a cloud of flies for a second time, rematerializing before the door just as I reached it. The sheets had been left behind, and I glanced down with a grin.
“Now who’s changing the subject?” he whispered, leaning into me.
I dragged my gaze up the length of his body and made eye contact. “Call Asmodeus. You can’t hide out from the world forever.”
His bottom lip puckered out in a mock pout. “I thought you liked having me in your bed any time you pleased.”
“Any time isn’t necessarily synonymous with all the time.” I laughed and pressed my lips to his bare shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong. A couple months of indulging was nice, but the bills aren’t going to pay themselves.”
Bub sighed and bent down to take my mouth with his, injecting words between kisses. “Why… don’t you… call in... sick?”
I groaned into his mouth, a sound half pleasure and half frustration. “Because I’ve basically called in sick for the past two months, and my boss lives here, so it’s not like we’re fooling anyone.”
“Doesn’t lovesick count?” He whimpered softly, running his hands around to cup my bottom through the robe.
“I’ll see you tonight.” I laid one last kiss against his neck before he finally relented and moved away from the door, limping on his bad leg. The skin had mostly healed, but the scars were an angry pink, leaving little pits where the flesh had been torn away. By what, I wasn’t sure. Bub wouldn’t talk about his time as a rebel captive, and I didn’t have the heart to ask. Pushing him to reach out to old friends was the best I could do for now.
“Make the call,” I said, giving him a stern look over my shoulder as I walked down the hallway.
Saul poked his head out of Kevin’s room and sniffed the air before following me into the kitchen. I’d already fed everyone, but he paused to inspect the four bowls beside the refrigerator anyway, just in case a stray morsel had escaped the pups. Discovering nothing, he sneezed in his dish and turned his most pathetic eyes up at me.
“Oh, all right,” I said, taking the lid off a jar of treats the Pythia had sent over from Olympus. I tossed one in the air, and Saul leaned back on his haunches to catch it in his mouth, swallowing it down in one bite. “Ugh.” I crinkled my nose at the livery smell of the treats and quickly replaced the jar’s lid.<
br />
We left the condo and headed for the elevator at the end of the hall, arriving just in time to catch Gabriel on his way down. He made a point to fluff his wings when he greeted me.
“Hey, the splint’s gone! How do you feel?” I asked.
“Like a badass.” He grinned and pressed the button for the lobby. “The one on my knee is off too, but I have to wear a brace for a few weeks. Doc said the impact of my landings might muck up any healing it has left to do.”
Saul sniffed at Gabriel’s robe pocket, and the angel pulled out a crumbly handful of cheese crackers. “Did you think I’d forgotten about you? Those pups still snatching up all the treats?” Gabriel cooed at the hound as he fed him.
I folded my arms and smirked at Saul. “Oh, he gets by.”
The elevator pinged open in the lobby. Charlie, the nephilim who worked the front desk, gave us a timid nod as we left the building. The atmosphere at Holly House was tense since the Oracle Ball. For a short stretch of time, I had been a wanted fugitive, and Holly had almost busted me, giving the Nephilim Guard access to my condo as I was trying to escape. I think she was still burned that I had evaded her, but she’d let her scorn simmer into veiled suspicion after my name was finally cleared. At least I hadn’t been evicted yet, and she didn’t make a fuss when Bub moved in, though he ventured out so rarely that hardly anyone else had noticed.
Limbo City was cold and gray outside Holly House. A soft snow fell around us, dotting Gabriel’s golden curls and frosting Saul’s dark fur. Zimble, Limbo’s resident weather god, dusted the city every year around this time. It was lovely, and it fueled my newfound Christmas spirit. I wasn’t usually one to celebrate, but something about losing people I loved made me want to cling to and pamper the ones I had left.
Plans for a yuletide shindig were slowly coming together, and there were a dozen gifts stashed away in the back of my closet—including a fancy new cane for Bub, a set of throwing knives and a dartboard for Kevin, treats and toys for the hounds, and socks for Gabriel. I was still looking for a proper gift for Jenni, but I also had a basket of miscellaneous party favors for anyone else who might show up, like Gabriel’s demon girlfriend Amy or Asmodeus, if Bub ever got around to calling him.
Gabriel and I took the nearest travel booth to Reapers Inc. A stroll in the snow would have been nice, especially with the store windows all decorated up with holiday cheer, but forcing an angel to walk on a mending knee would have been a Scrooge move. The lobby of Reapers Inc. made up for my loss.
Flocked garlands woven through with blinking, white lights lined the walls and reception counter, and a twenty-foot tree filled the front window. Gold and silver ornaments the size of my head hung from every bough, and at the top, a twinkling star grazed the ceiling. Music hummed from the intercom speakers, classic Christmas songs played by piano, and the aroma of peppermint and cinnamon wafted from a gingerbread village display.
An inflated snowman wearing a “snow patrol” badge stood guard at the entrance, a stop sign grasped in one twiggy hand. Gabriel flicked the moisture from his wings and Saul did a full body shake before we passed through the lobby.
“I bet the Posy Unit will be glad to see you this morning,” Gabriel said as we stepped inside an open elevator.
I hadn’t done much harvesting since the Oracle Ball, and none with the unit I was supposed to be captaining. Jenni called me in for a few special, high-risk harvests, but I’d temporarily relinquished control of the Posy Unit to Arden Faraji. He was the most respectable and levelheaded member of the team, and Kevin informed me that he was doing a stellar job. I was actually debating leaving the unit in his hands permanently. Besides, being on call for odd jobs from the new CEO of Reapers Inc. didn’t leave much of a window for developing good leadership relations.
I frowned and pushed the button for the seventy-third floor, the Afterlife Council headquarters. “I’m not working with the unit today. Jenni has some special assignment for me.”
“Huh.” Gabriel cocked his head. “She asked to see me this morning too.”
When the elevator doors opened, Naledi, the soul on the no-longer-secret Throne of Eternity, stood in the long hallway that linked the council offices, conference room, and dining hall. She wore a green, sequined dress, and a matching ribbon adorned her hair. Nude pumps bumped her height up past mine by an inch and gave her a more mature air than her youthful appearance usually allowed. The grimace creasing her face helped in that department too.
“Are you here to steal Christmas?” I asked.
“A holiday cannot be stolen.” Naledi gave me a berating look. Apparently her vast knowledge didn’t encompass televised Christmas classics.
Gabriel squeezed past her and held the elevator door open for me and Saul. “Lana just means that you look very festive,” he said, giving her an amused smile.
Naledi sniffed. “I do not find this level of discomfort very festive, but Ms. Fang insists that this is a step I must take if the council is to take me seriously.”
I nodded. “Jenni’s advice is golden.”
“She’s waiting in the conference room,” Naledi said, leading us down the hallway.
The seventy-third floor wasn’t as intimidating to me as it had been when Grim was in charge. Jenni was severe and influential in her own right—enough so to fill Grim’s shoes without too much difficulty—but she was just an ordinary reaper. She couldn’t turn someone’s soul inside out and completely erase their existence. Not like Grim… or me.
The conference room hadn’t changed much since I’d last seen it, except for the heap of files covering the table and stacked in every chair. Jenni sat at the far end of the room, her head grasped between her hands and an annoyed furrow across her brow. Pieces of hair fell haphazardly around the chopsticks holding back her long mane, and bags hung under her eyes.
“They’re here,” Naledi grumbled, her annoyance still seeping through.
Jenni cleared her throat and sat up straight. She looked from me to Gabriel. A hesitant tightness formed around her tired eyes. This couldn’t be good.
I placed my hands on the back of a chair and sighed. “Oh boy. I know that look. Who died?”
Jenni pinched her lips together and swallowed. “High-risk soul in Alaska. He’s scheduled for just before noon. I’m sending Gabriel with you on this one.”
“Why?” Gabriel asked, fluttering his wings impatiently.
“Here. See for yourself.” She tossed a folder across the table.
Gabriel picked it up and read aloud. “Nicholas Kringle. fifty-eight, delivery truck driver for—no way.” He snorted and looked up at Jenni. “Seriously?”
She nodded.
“Well?” I threw my hands up in the air. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“He delivers toys.” Gabriel unclipped a photograph from inside the file and held it out to me. The white bearded man in the image had a pipe hanging from one side of his mouth. He was clearly overweight, and I’ll be damned if his eyes didn’t have a distinct twinkle to them.
My mouth fell open with a horrified gasp. “Oh, that’s just wrong.” I snatched the folder from Gabriel and glanced through it, then paused to look at Jenni. “Trampled to death by an unidentified mammal. You’re sending us out to collect Santa after he’s run over by a reindeer?”
Jenni pinched the bridge of her nose. “Here we go.”
“It’s a week before Christmas,” I whined.
“He’s not the Santa Claus. Jesus, Lana.” She rolled her eyes.
A faint smile touched the corner of Naledi’s mouth. “You don’t know that. He might have been in another life.”
Jenni rolled her eyes again. “His parents just had a cruel sense of humor. So he’s fat and has a beard. Lots of men do. So he delivers toys and volunteers at soup kitchens—he’s not the first. The Board of Heavenly Hosts put in quite a bid for his soul, but since he shows so many novel markers, now I’ve got the Summerland Society breathing down my neck too. And you.” She pointed at Naledi. “You
had to go and stick your fingers right in the mix, didn’t you?”
“You should be thanking me.” Naledi huffed. “By appointing Mr. Kringle to the Apparition Agency, we’ll be able to resolve this mystery. We can use Meng Po’s tea to reveal his past lives, and then he can decide for himself if he belongs in Heaven, Summerland, or here in Limbo with the council.”
Jenni shook her head. “So much interest in a single soul never ends well. It draws the worst kind of attention.”
“I guess that’s why I’m here.” I closed the folder and dropped it on the table. “Bah Humbug.”
* * * * *
Alaska was not my most favorite place ever. The snuggle-worthy chill of Limbo City didn’t have anything on the arctic winds that assaulted Gabriel, Saul, and me as we made our way down an embankment to the roadside where we were scheduled to catch up with Saint Nick.
Gabriel’s wings lay tight against his back, quivering in the cold. He’d pulled on a thicker robe at Jenni’s recommendation, and also a pair of mittens and a fur hat with giant earflaps. It wasn’t a very majestic look for an angel, and I couldn’t help but snicker at him.
“Hardy har har,” he muttered, trudging along beside me in the snow.
Saul, whose natural habitat was a tropical-ish region of hell, didn’t care for the weather either. He snorted his disgust with each step, sounding more like a disgruntled pig than a hound. I tried to picture him in one of those ridiculous dog vests, the kind so often seen on celebrity poodles, and giggled, drawing unpleasant looks from both Saul and Gabriel. Killjoys.
I was trying extra hard not to let the disturbing nature of the assignment taint my Christmas cheer. Maybe I could get a selfie with Santa for my trouble. Maybe I’d record the reindeer trampling and threaten to go viral with it unless he took me off the naughty list. I was ninety-nine percent sure that’s where my name would be found—if Santa put reapers on his lists, that is.
Season's Reapings (A Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. Holiday Short Story) Page 1