A small plaque was mounted next to the thin door. She only had to glance at it briefly to know it read: Reapers, Inc., Est. 34 A.D. As she opened the door, she wondered where the original office had been once upon a time. New York City was only a couple of centuries old. There were no buildings on this particular spot in 34 A.D... Surely, this office was a relocation of the original.
Doors with frosted paned glass lined the hall behind the main door. Her footsteps echoed off the dark wood paneled walls as she walked slowly down the wood paneled floor. A door was opened at the end of the hall and Brigit could see a dim light burning within the room beyond it. Glancing to the ceiling, she was amused to see the faces of gargoyles peering down at her as she passed beneath them. Gargoyles, she knew, were protectors from evil. It amused her that the offices of the Grim Reaper would be decorated with such emblems of superstition.
“You’re here,”
Brigit’s attention was pulled from the grotesque faces lining the ceiling to the opened door before her. John Blackwick was standing in the doorway, his short frame blocking the dim light behind him.
“You had your doubts?” Brigit asked as she continued the short distance to his office.
“Not at all,” John replied. “Come in.”
Brigit entered the office and glanced around. The room was larger than she had thought it would be. Bookshelves lined the walls, standing as tall as the ceiling. Black bound books without titles were crammed into the shelves. To the right of the room, Brigit took note of the wall of boxes that had been stacked in front of the bookshelves lining the real wall. John’s desk was spacious, she imagined, when it was clean. At the moment, it was covered in hundreds – if not thousands – of portfolios stacked neatly. A small space was clear, revealing the dark mahogany wood that supported the work load he had lain out for himself.
“Did you read the guide?” John asked as he walked around the desk and resumed his seat behind it.
“The bulk of it, yes,” Brigit replied.
“Good. Are you ready to begin, then?” He asked. He began sorting through a short stack of portfolios before him.
“No time like the present,” Brigit answered as John stood again and picked up three of the portfolios that he had separated from the pile. She watched him stuff them inside his suit coat pocket and then look at her.
“Take a walk with me,” he instructed. “Unfortunately, we have no time for proper training. Per the handbook, you’re supposed to wait until we are sure you understand your role as a Reaper before being turned loose in the field. Since we are the only Reapers in the world at this time, you’ll have to do on-the-job-training I’m afraid. Ask any questions that come to mind as they come. I’ll do my best to answer them,” he promised as he walked to the door of his office.
Brigit watched him pause long enough to pull a long black walking stick from the bronze umbrella holder sitting against the only bare space on the wall. There were a couple of others there that looked as if they had seen better days. Brigit wondered what John could have done with them to beat them up so badly. A question came to mind as they began walking down the hall towards the door that had let her in.
“What do you mean we’re the only Reapers in the world?” she asked.
“They all retired about six months ago. I’ve been doing this on my own since then. When the Bailey caused your accident, I saw an opportunity to start re-growing the firm, especially after I finally received your file. Per your portfolio, you’re an assistant extraordinaire. I have the need for such a qualification. With your help, I believe we can rebuild the firm and re-open the other continental offices once we have the appropriate staff. Shield your eyes,” John instructed gently before opening the door and allowing Brigit to pass by him. Before she had time to register what he had told her to do, the intensity of the light just outside the door blinded her.
“Oh, god damn!” she gasped as she covered her eyes with her hands, as if the intensity might actually melt her eyeballs directly out of the sockets.
When the light stopped pulsating, she slowly lowered her hands and looked around her. They were standing in the empty hall of a hospital. Brigit knew it was a hospital simply by the smell and the eeriness that she had associated with such a building since her grandfather’s passing when she was a little girl.
“Where are we?” Brigit whispered.
“We’re at St. Clare’s Hospital in Oklahoma City. We have three assignments to complete here and then we’ll be on our way back to the office. Here,” he withdrew a portfolio from his coat pocket and passed it to her. Slowly, Brigit opened the folder and began to read.
“Sarah McDowell, April 3rd, 1982,” she read out loud. “What’s the date?”
“Her passing date,” he replied.
“You’ve kept her waiting sixteen years?”
John shrugged somewhat apologetically.
“The Reaper assigned to her was somewhat of a lazy bum. He liked to take his time in getting to his assignments. Sadly, I’ve been a somewhat backlogged these last six months, I’m sure you can understand…”
“Let’s hope Sarah McDowell will understand,” Brigit retorted. John shrugged sheepishly again and began walking slowly down the hall. Brigit knew she had no choice but to follow him.
She was waiting for them by the window, staring out across the city skyline bathed in the bright sunlight. There was a peaceful look on her face as she watched the horizon. Brigit noted that the expression did not alter as Sarah McDowell turned to face her visitors. She studied them both, dressed head to toe in black. Sarah McDowell recognized them for who they were and why they were finally there.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said sweetly. Brigit guessed the woman to have been in her mid-fifties. Her children were finally grown, her husband almost ready to retire. Sarah McDowell seemed not to be bothered by the loss of her golden years. Instead, a sense of patience emanated from her – even after all this time of waiting.
“I apologize for the delay, Sarah. Are you ready to go?” John asked. A pleasant smile came to the waiting woman’s face.
“Yes, it’s time,” she said.
Brigit studied the other woman’s smile as she moved away from the window and approached them. She was unsure whether the smile was one of relief or one of true happiness that the wait was over. As they entered the hall together, Sarah looked up at Brigit. There was an inquisitive expression in her green eyes.
“Will you be crossing as well, dear?” she asked.
“No ma’am,” Brigit replied. “It’s my first day on the job.”
“Oh, I see. You’ll do fine, I’m sure,” Sarah said kindly.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
They turned down a glass corridor that connected one section of the building to another. Half way down, a wooden door had been mounted. It was a plain door that refused to look normal against the glass and the scenery outside. Brigit wondered why anyone would put such a design error in this type of building. As her confusion continued to grow, John stopped in front of the door and turned to face Sarah McDowell.
“Is this the place?” Sarah asked, stopping as well before the door.
“It is. Sarah McDowell,” John’s voice took on a solemn, almost priestly, tone. “May you find eternal peace,” he wished her. Slowly, he extended his left hand and opened the door for her. Sarah nodded and winked at Brigit.
“Better late than never,” she sighed.
As Sarah stepped through the opened door, Brigit detected the scent of flowers wafting from the other side. They accosted her senses so quickly that she was unable to discern each individual fragrance. It was sweet and warm – like rich honey. Brigit closed her eyes momentarily to savor the smell and its affect on her mind. There was a peace felt within the affect unlike any she had ever known with the exception of being in Maggie’s arms. When she opened her eyes again, the door was gone and John was staring at her with a slight look of amused patience.
“Where did the door go?” Br
igit asked.
“Sarah has passed through. There’s no further need for it.”
“Where did it lead to? How did you know to bring her here to the hall?”
“The hall seemed more picturesque, don’t you think? As for where it lead, it was to my left; so, it lead to Heaven, the Summer Land, eternal peace – whatever you want to call it.” John explained as they began walking along the corridor again.
“Was that your decision?” Brigit asked as she opened the little black folder to see if a judgment had been previously issued and recorded there. Her brows knitted together upon the sight of a blank page where Sarah McDowell’s life had been just minutes before. All that remained were the woman’s name and her passing date.
“We are not judges, Brigit, merely the deliverers of a soul to their fate. Come, we have more work here to be done,” John said without looking at her. Brigit lengthened her stride to keep up with him while her mind continued to race with questions.
“How do I know where they go? Do they always have a door to go through?”
“They do.”
“How do I know which one to send them through?”
“Did you really read the guide, darling, or just skim it as if preparing for an early morning quiz?” John asked patiently. He didn’t wait for an answer. “You will have one of two options when dealing with a Reapee. A door will always appear either to your right or your left. Do you believe in Heaven?”
“I don’t know,” Brigit replied honestly. She had never subscribed to any particular faith’s belief in the after life and as a consequence, had never given the after life much real thought.
“Heaven will be the door to your left. Hell is the door to your right. Only one door will appear for each soul.”
“What if both doors appear?” Brigit asked as they turned the corner. In the distance, she could hear the cries of a baby. It sounded agitated.
“They won’t,” John replied.
“Are you sure?”
“In the time that I have been a Reaper, I have never witnessed both doors appearing. Our predecessors never mentioned any such incident occurring. I will venture on to say that if it’s not mentioned in your field guide, it won’t happen,” John surmised.
Brigit frowned as they approached a room sealed off again by a wall of glass. Behind the glass, Brigit saw the rows of baby basinets. Most of them were occupied with little bodies covered in the obligatory pink or blue blankets.
Except for one…
Brigit’s gaze fell on the uncovered baby. Its tiny arms were flailing over its tiny head trying to communicate its irritation. This was the baby she had heard as they were walking down the hall. She wondered why this baby wouldn’t receive the same attention the other babies were getting. She wondered why it had been left uncovered and unidentified by pink or blue.
“Baby Girl Riley,” John said quietly. “Hold this please,” he requested, passing the long black walking stick to Brigit. She took it in silence and held it gently by her side.
Together, they approached the wailing child and stood over her. Her bright blue eyes glistened with the tears that she had been summoning to no avail. John gently lifted the baby from its crib and held her close to his chest as he cooed soothing words to her. Brigit watched in silence. His expression had changed. It had a softer look, one of a sad joy as he held the baby girl in his arms.
She watched as John carried the child to a door and waited for him to open it; but his reach never extended toward the handle. Instead, it opened from the inside and Brigit saw a small woman in a white robe emerge. There was a gentle smile on her face as she gazed at the whimpering child cradled in the Grim Reaper’s arms.
Carefully, John kissed the baby on the forehead and passed her to the small woman. Brigit remained silent as she watched the other woman receive the infant and began to sing softly to her. It was a soothing sound and Brigit couldn’t help but to let her gaze stay on the other woman. She noted the woman’s lips never moved and that the words were in a language she had never heard. The woman and the child passed back through the door and it was gone again. John remained where he stood for a few seconds, as if trying to regain his composure.
“Who was that?” Brigit asked when he turned to face her again.
“Her name is Mary. She receives the children on the other side.”
“That song she was singing? What was it?” Brigit asked as he reached inside his coat and withdrew the third black portfolio.
“It’s a lullaby. Don’t ask me what language it is in, though. It’s a tongue that hasn’t been spoken since God was a child,” he sighed as he read the contents of the file in his hand. Brigit felt herself smiling at the slight joke. “Well, one more for this morning and we’re done here. My stick please?”
Together, they left the nursery. After a long silent walk, they found themselves in the basement. Brigit shivered from the sinister eeriness of the room. Something was not right here. Ever hair of her body told her as much. Instinctively, she slowed her breathing and tensed her muscles in preparation for an attack.
“Demetrius Rudikov, show yourself,” John commanded. She looked at him, surprised by the sudden forcefulness in his voice. He was gripping his walking stick like a club, as if he too were ready for a fight. “Demetrius Rudikov,”
“GO AWAY!”
Brigit stepped back just as a force of wind flew past her and hit the supply shelf next to her. Boxes of bandages toppled from the shelf where they had been sitting to the floor at her feet. She looked to John and was alarmed to find him in the death hold of the monster he had called out. By the stench that filled her nostrils as they wrestled, she easily guessed which door this one would be going through once they had him under control.
Quickly, Brigit sprang into action. Her boot to the monster’s backside caused him to release John and turn on her. He was snarling, like a rabid animal that had been cornered. His stench mounted with his fury as he hunkered down to leap on her. Despite the distraction of his skin peeling from his face, Brigit never let her attention leave the yellow eyes that were assessing her.
“John, where’s the door?” she asked as she took a step back from the approaching monster.
“To your right,” John gasped from where he had fallen when the monster had released him.
“Open the damn thing already,” Brigit instructed as the monster launched itself like a missile across the space between them.
Instinctively, she punched at it, her fist sinking deep into its face where its nose appeared to be. If it had been human, she was sure she would have heard the sound of breaking bones and cartilage. Her adrenaline hit maximum capacity as she felt its claws sinking deep into her shoulder. She noted briefly that there was a sensation where Demetrius had a hold of her, but she knew it wasn’t pain she was feeling. It was something more akin to sudden nausea – the same feeling she had felt at the scene of her accident.
Together they fell to the floor. Brigit heard a sound like a sucker coming off a pane of glass as she yanked her fist free. She looked up in time to see sharp yellow teeth glistening beneath the cavity her fist had created in the middle of the monster’s face. Quickly, she turned her head away and felt the monster’s weight suddenly lifted from her.
Then she heard a door slam.
Gasping, Brigit lay on the floor for a moment before turning her head to look at John. Casually, he brushed the sleeves of his suit coat and smoothed his black hair before extending a hand out to Brigit.
“I hate when they start a fight,” he remarked as he helped her to her feet.
Slowly, he turned her and pressed his fingers against the place where the monster’s claws had marked her. The punctures had gone just below the skin’s surface, barely touching the muscles below. Brigit had been saved by the padding of her coat. John sighed in relief. Everything would be mended by the time they were through the portal. Only the memory of the attack would remain.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Brigit assured him.
&n
bsp; “Of course it doesn’t. We’d have a problem if it did,” he retorted.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because, love, it would mean that you’re still alive,” John explained. “We’re done here today. How about a beverage before we return to the office? We have a few more things to discuss before you start fulfilling your assignments,” he suggested. Brigit nodded silently and followed him from the basement.
8: Explanations
The coffee shop patrons had not changed since the visit the day before. The old man with the sad blue eyes remained in the booth by the window and the waiter behind the bar stood ready to serve them beverages as soon as they walked through the door. As they took their seats at the counter where Giuseppe had served them in the same smiling silence he had done the day before, Brigit’s thoughts were beyond the perfectly prepared cup of coffee sitting on the bar before her.
“You seem pensive,” John commented as he stirred his tea.
“I suppose I am,” she admitted. “Could Demetrius Rudikov have killed me?” She heard John sigh gently as he balanced his teaspoon on the rim of the saucer under the teacup.
“Darling, you’re already dead,” he reminded. “No, he could not have killed you. However, had he managed to maul you any more than he did, you would have been dastardly ill for quite some time. Unfortunately, it’s not something we can simply shake off. When a dark spirit manages to do some serious harm, the effects are more like a poisonous infection. Eventually, it runs its course and we return to normal with only the memory of the event. The length of time one is out of commission depends on the severity of the injury,” John explained as he picked up his tea and blew gently across the surface. Brigit knew it was out of habit that he did this. After all, he was just as dead as she was.
Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross Page 6