A Tale Of Two Reapers

by Jack Wallen

  “Shit,” X hissed. “She has to be behind this door.”

  “Fear not, cupcake.” I reached into my pocket and retrieved my keys.

  “If you tell me you have the key to this lock, I’m going to—”

  “It’s a skeleton key, X. There’s a certain level of universality with those keys.”

  I inserted mine and gave it a twist. To no surprise on my part, the locked popped and the door swung open. X nodded me onward. Considering the circumstances, I wasn’t about to ask my assistant to go ahead of me. Instinctively, my hand reached out for the wall, hoping to bump into a light switch. When none came, I pulled my mobile phone out, tapped on the flashlight app, and held it before me.

  “Watch your step,” I whispered to X, in my best Cloris Leachman, “The stairs can be treacherous.”

  “Don’t be such a dick, Grim,” X responded with a punch to my shoulder, nearly knocking me into the basement.

  I noticed a print in the dust on the top stair. Someone had recently ascended from below. I placed a careful foot down on the rotting wood step.

  This was not part of my job description. I debated whether or not to bail on this misplaced mission, but remembered that X was, in some ways, right…I owed her.

  Payback is such a bitch.

  I cautiously placed one foot in front of the other, sweeping my tiny light ahead, hoping like hell I didn’t see anything suspect or damning. Not that I gave a shit if Captain Creepsville was innocent or not…I just didn’t want to behold the depravity of man-made flesh any more than necessary.

  I placed my right foot on the last step, only to hear a soft moan rise from the darkness. I pointed the beam of light in the direction of the sound and my heart shuddered and skipped a precious beat.

  On the floor in the corner was a soiled mattress…on which a frail and very bruised woman lay chained and shackled. Breath was stolen from my lungs and bile raged up from my gullet.

  “Do you see anything?” X whispered.

  I shot a straight arm up to X, hoping to prevent her from descending further. She pushed against me, but I held fast. At the sound of X’s voice and the ensuing scuffle, the moan rose again. I focused the beam of my light, as well as the full capacity of my gaze, toward the corner…to see a woman struggling to exist, surrounded by a pitch-black aura.

  My heart sank even further.

  “Son of a bitch,” I whispered.

  “What is it, Grim?”

  “You were right, X,” was all I could say before she plowed past me.

  The first thing I heard was a gasp, immediately followed by sobs. X dropped to her knees, casting a haunting shadow across the room, and then drew up close to the woman. She reached a hand forward. “I’m so sorry.”

  I knelt beside X. “Let me take care of this.”

  “Take care of what?” X hissed.

  “The reaping.”

  Before I could say another word, X had her cell phone out and was dialing 911. I snatched the phone from her. “She’s beyond help, X.”

  “No. The woman is still alive. We can help her.”

  I focused the beam of light near the woman. “Look at her aura, X. It’s almost solid. She’s going to die very soon. If we don’t reap her now, her soul will be lost forever. After what she’s been through, don’t you believe she deserves to have some part of her get a second chance?”

  X’s sobbing rose and fell. She did her best to gather her wits before saying, “Let me do the reaping.”

  “Oh, fuck no,” I insisted. “The last thing you need is to bear witness to that woman’s final memories. You’ve already been through enough with this for one day. You let me do this and, as soon as we’re out of this house, we’ll wait for the son of bitch to return, and you can have the pleasure of calling 911.” I pulled X into an embrace. “Trust me, love, you do not want this reap.”

  I could feel X nod against me as she returned the hug with force.

  “Go back up top and watch the door. If you see him returning, warn me and get the hell out of Dodge.”

  X stood and, without looking back, made her way up the stairs. I returned my focus on the dying woman. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered before gently lowering myself into her frail body.

  The images punished me. Shot with a tranquilizer. Waking up in a dark and unfamiliar place. Beaten and raped. Insulted and humiliated. Malnourished and tortured. Every moment of her tormented existence rushed at me as I inhaled the taste of suffering.

  When I finally pulled out of her, my cheeks were soaked with tears and my chin slick with snot. I scrambled away from the deathbed, my lips sealed tight against the aura, and cast the beam of light back onto the poor woman. Her chest heaved once, twice…and came to rest. A weeping moan resonated against my closed lips as I raced up the stairs, through the house, and out the door. The second I was outside, I released the aura and spilled a sloppy vomit soup onto the sidewalk. Once the last dregs of sick had left my mouth, I gazed upward to spot the shifting smoke. Black to white. The woman’s soul would return to another human, free from the horrific oppression of the sadist who took her life.

  “And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest,” I whispered the Horatio quote from Hamlet…the only fitting thing I could think of to say.

  From behind, I heard X’s voice. “I want to report a murder…”

  My mind couldn’t hear anything more for the moment. I needed peace, silence…and life. I wanted to roll in a field of rabbits, hear the laughter of children, dance to good music, or watch a comedy.

  While I was caught in the midst of self-pity, X snaked her arm around my waist. “I’m sorry.”

  This time it was my turn to put my head to X’s shoulder. “For what?”

  “Falling to pieces in there. I know this is part of the job, and it kind of slipped my mind how much of it you’ve seen over the years. I hope my—”

  “Shhhh,” I whispered. “Everything’s okay. We did what was necessary—” I stopped myself short. “Wait, why did you call 911 already? I thought we were going to—”

  “Let the police do their job. They’ll know who owns the house and, barring no one fucks up the evidence or investigation, they’ll nail his ass. If not, we’ll take the matter into our own hands.”

  “Come on.” It was my turn to reach out for a hand. X instantly entwined hers with mine and we walked. “I’m feeling pizza right now.”

  X groaned. “How in the hell can you even think of food after that?”

  “When you finally pull off your first successful reap, you’ll understand how much energy it takes. I’m thinking I burn somewhere between a thousand and fifteen hundred calories per reap. Multiply that by five or ten, depending on how busy the day is, and, well, pizza is life.”

  “Are you watching your girlish figure?” X teased.

  “Are you?”

  X hip-checked me. “Bitch.”

  “You so took that the wrong way,” I reproached. “What I meant was—”

  “If you have to explain the joke, your humor is flawed.”

  “Now who’s the bitch?”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  After a brief moment of silence, X said softly, “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  She leaned her head on my shoulder as we walked. “Everything.”

  Chapter 12

  “You weren’t kidding, Grim. This is incredible.”

  “I don’t fuck around when it comes to pizza.”

  We sat at a grease-smeared table in the back of Louis’ Pizza Shack, a large cheese pizza between us. So far we’d managed to demolish half the pie together, and I’d somehow succeeded in cheering X up, despite what we’d been through.

  Not bad for a first…

  I couldn’t say it.

  “Sooo,” X said coyly.

  I could feel the color drain from my cheeks. Nothing good ever followed the word “so” in my world.

  “What is it, Grim? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” X laughed. “Well
that’s the most obvious fucking statement of the year. Wait, do we see ghosts?”

  I shook my head. “Not in the literal sense.”

  “I’ve been seeing metaphorical ghosts all of my life.” X dipped a pizza bone deep into the oil pooling in the center of her plate and immediately changed the subject. “Is this our first official date?”

  A lump of cheese caught in my throat. I choked. X slid her soda across the table. I sucked down a gulp to clear away the blockage.

  “I—” my voice caught. After a second drink, I tossed caution to the wind and nodded. “I think it is.”

  “Are there any regulations about dating fellow reapers?”

  “That’s funny, X.”

  “I thought so.”

  “My guess is that Fate’ll be yanking me back to the NetherRealm any moment to say time is running out.”

  X furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember the deal? I have until the end of the week to teach you how to reap, otherwise…” I drew my finger across my neck.

  “Oh, fuck,” X whispered. “I’m really blowing this for you, aren’t I?”

  “Actually, what’s really blowing this is the fact that there’s a Scythe loose in New York and we don’t have much time to find it.”

  “Jesus, Grim,” X snapped. “There are almost two million people in Manhattan alone. How are we supposed to locate a veritable shadow in the middle of the goddamn night? And even if we do, how do we get rid of it?”

  I slid another slice over to my plate. “The second question is simple to answer…you inhale it like you did the first time. The only difference is, assuming the mark has been taken down by the police, when you let it go, the Scythe will have become a harmless aura.”

  “And what happens if the police don’t kill the man? Maybe they’ll take him into custody…for a trial…like they do in this country?”

  X was right…I hadn’t thought of that eventuality.

  “Then we resort to Plan Nine,” I said offhandedly.

  “From Outer Space?”

  I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my lips. “I knew there was at least one reason why we’d get along so well. Yes, From Outer Space. To be honest, though, it’s more like inner space.”

  “Care to explain yourself, Grim?”

  An elongated sigh escaped my lips. “I do this as rarely as possible. Why? Because it truly fucks with me.”

  “I’m all ears.” X set her drink down and leaned back in the booth.

  “We have to let the Scythe…” I hesitated, knowing what I was about to say would drive the freakout up to at least nine.

  X raised her eyebrows. “I’m waiting.”

  “We have to let the Scythe possess one of us. Once that happens, we can locate Mr. Creepypasta, make sure he’s, you know, taken care of, and then release the aura safely.”

  “How in the hell do we get to the man if he’s in jail?” X complained. “Remember, I called 911 on him?” X slammed forehead to palm. “Rookie move.”

  “Don’t sweat it.” My lame attempt to reassure X failed.

  “And if he is, how do we—” X leaned in across the table and whispered, “take care of him? And, more importantly, how do we release a Scythe if it’s possessed one of us?”

  “Exorcism,” I allowed a jack-o-lantern grin to raise my cheeks. “First things first, X. We have to find the Scythe.” I dabbed my grease-stained lips with a napkin and stood. “For dessert, I’ll school you in the ways of locating the big bad.”

  “Buffy fan?” X grinned.

  “How’d you know?”

  “You’re kidding, right? I dreamed of having my own Scooby Gang for years.” X snatched a quick kiss. “I can spot a fan from the subtlest of hints.”

  We stepped back out into the cooling night air. The sounds of life surrounded us. Music, laughter, traffic…the never-ending soundtrack of New York.

  “Well?” X nudged. “How do we track down a Scythe?”

  I glanced skyward. “We listen.”

  “For what? Is it going to call out our name and say I’m on the four, heading toward the Bronx?”

  “The Achilles heel of the Scythe is its song.” With my head tilted back, I closed my eyes and took in the cacophonous symphony. There were always other sounds, waiting to be heard. The hum of power and the constant crackle and hiss of cellular and radio waves; the never-ending call of the infinite void. Among the damning song of technology and never-ending man-made expansion, nature sang a baleful tune that could only be heard by the willing.

  “Close your eyes,” I whispered. “Clear your mind and listen. There’s a hum that rises and falls with the regularity of the tide. It ebbs and flows, ebbs and flows. Imagine a theremin played in a cavernous hall to an audience of the highest order.”

  I fell silent, so X could focus her mind and ears on the task. Together, we stood on the sidewalk, eyes closed and ears canted toward the sky. The white noise of Manhattan faded to a distant murmur until the lonely call of the Scythe could be heard.

  “There it is,” I whispered.

  “I don’t hear anything,” X replied softly.

  “Wait for it.”

  “I—”

  “Wait for it.”

  The Scythe song continued echoing on from within the heart of the city. Once I’d managed to lock onto it, I could follow it without having to exert too much effort. X, on the other hand, would struggle with her first.

  “Yes,” X announced softly. “I hear it now. It’s…God, it’s a beautiful melancholy…like how I would imagine a breaking heart would weep.”

  “All we have to do now is follow it.”

  X’s eyes grew wide. “How? It’s not like the thing is singing us GPS coordinates.”

  She was right; this task was far from easy. My head nodded up and down on my neck before I managed to vocalize an awkward, “Uh-huh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Grim?”

  “Now comes the hard part, X. We have to track the bastard down. The closer we get, the louder the song. When we’re near enough to effectively trap him, the Scythe song will feedback in your head. I should warn you…it’s not comfortable.”

  “So…”

  There was that damned word again.

  “You’re saying we have to race across the entire city of Manhattan until that sound is loud enough to ring out inside our skulls…and then we have to somehow manage to get this thing to possess one of us?”

  I nodded. “That about sums it up.”

  “About?” X complained.

  “Okay, that sums it up perfectly.” I drew nearer to X. “I don’t suppose you have a car…or something that’ll get us around the city faster than our feet?”

  “A scooter?” I stood in the underground parking facility of X’s building. “Shouldn’t a ten-percenter have, I don’t know, a Porsche or a Ferrari?”

  X laughed. “Do I look like the kind of girl who’d drive a Porsche?”

  “A hearse?”

  My comment deserved the punch I received.

  “Trust me, Grim, this baby will get us around the city faster than a car or taxi. It’s one hundred and twenty cc’s of lightning reaction. We hit traffic, onto the curb we go. It’s against the law, but at this point I say—”

  “Fuck the law,” I completed the thought.

  X handed me a helmet. “That’s right, my dear.”

  “And mess up my perfect coif? No way,” I barked.

  X crossed her arms and spoke with her motherly voice. “Cover your lid or you don’t ride.”

  I pulled the oversized, half ping pong ball onto my head. X followed suit and swung her leg over the machine. She nodded for me to hop onto the back. Hesitantly, I complied.

  “You okay handling this with my extra weight?”

  Without warning, X fired up the ride, twisted the throttle, and zipped out of the parking spot like a horde of demons were about to rise from the dirt directly below us. I slipped my arms around her waist and he
ld on for dear life. She maneuvered the scooter through the parking garage like the thing was an extension of her body. Once on the street, she opened up the engine, and we were flying through the city, hell-bent on finding the Scythe.

  A red light stopped us. X turned her head and asked, “What happens if the Scythe finds a host before we trap it?”

  “Hitler Junior. A new psychopath will have been born.”

  The light turned green. The scooter remained in place.

  “You okay?” I asked as the chorus of blaring horns greeted us from behind.

  “We have to stop that thing, Grim.” X’s voice was hollow, afraid.

  “We won’t if we remain here,” I teased.

  X replied by gassing the scooter forward.

  I listened, grateful the Scythe song could be heard over the ringing of the scooter engine. The song remained the same. I tapped X on the shoulder and shouted, “Head into the central part of the city.”

  X took the next left. The sound grew slightly louder and then, as quickly as it rose in volume, dropped back down.

  We continued chasing the song for what seemed like an eternity…getting nowhere for our time. X pulled the scooter over to a curb and shut off the engine. She hung her head and offered up, “I’m exhausted, Grim.”

  I gave X’s midsection a light squeeze. “Let’s head back home. We’ll start up again tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure? What if we dropped me off at home so you can go back out—”

  “I’m not doing this without you. We’re a team now.”

  “I like the sound of that, Grim.”

  X pressed the ignition button, goosed the gas, and we were heading back. Thankfully, I could still hear the Scythe in the background. As long as the song continued, the beast was still untethered to a host. There was time.

  Besides, X wasn’t the only one dragging ass.

  When we arrived, Darthaniel was asleep on the couch. X considered waking him, but opted to let him sleep through the night. We silently crept across the living room and into her bedroom…together.

  Had we not both been about to pass out where we stood, magic might have happened in X’s bed. However, neither of us could string together a coherent thought, much less the energy to make the beast with two backs.