A Tale Of Two Reapers

by Jack Wallen

  Before I had a chance to voice that very question, Mark Jons lowered himself to the roof of the car, raised upturned palms toward me, and vanished right before my eyes.

  “Christ!” Ammy cried out. “That was a seriously righteous hack of reality. How did he pull that off?”

  Now was not the time for explanation. I carefully returned X into the back seat of the hearse and demanded Ammy and Darth follow suit. Once inside the protected confines of the vehicle, I instructed Ammy to contact the authorities and let them know about the woman chained in the basement and convinced Darth to haul ass back to X’s home. I struggled to keep hold of consciousness, and X was busy napping her way in and out of reality.

  Chapter 14

  After tucking X away in her bed, I returned to the living room, where Amnesia and Darthaniel awaited some form of explanation.

  This would not be pretty.

  In over one hundred years, I’d not once had to confess my deeds to mortal ears. How I’d been so fortunate, I had no idea…but my record had remained intact until roughly sixty minutes ago.

  Two pairs of glaring, unblinking eyes took me in. It wasn’t the stares so much as it was the silence. My cohorts couldn’t even conjure up words to describe their shock.

  I made my way to the couch and leaned against its back. Together, we three stared in silence. I half expected the sun to rise as we watched one another in unflinching wonder.

  “Well?” Ammy finally broke the muted spell.

  I’d always wanted to think, when this moment came to be, that I’d have some glorious, Shakespearean-eloquent monologue ready to rattle off. To reap or not to reap, that is the question. Unfortunately, grace had left the building.

  “You…” I couldn’t find the perfect words, so I had no choice but to open the floodgates and hope for the best. “You weren’t supposed to see that. No human was to know such things existed within the fabric of reality. Souls are real…but are finite in number. When you die, that secret spirit is released back to the universe to be used again. I’m a Reaper…the Reaper, actually. Or so was the case, until…” I pointed back to X’s bedroom. “I…we…are the vehicle by which souls are removed from the dying host and returned to Fate’s pool.”

  Ammy shook her head. “Wait, you mean…no…X is…what?”

  “She was an accident on my part. Her aura was…I can’t really go into the details of this right now. Hell, you aren’t even supposed to know any of this; or that I exist, for that matter.”

  “How long have you been around, dude?” Darth asked.

  “I’ve been reaping since the turn of the century.”

  Darth grinned. “So, what, sixteen or so years?”

  “I mean the turn of the sixteenth century,” I answered.

  “Holy shit,” Darth shouted. “I’d have pegged you in your thirties at most.”

  “Not bad, eh?” I teased.

  “Will you two can the bromance for a moment!” Ammy snarled. “I don’t really give a shit about who or what you are. Hell, I’m not so certain I believe you. But my best friend just went through something I can’t explain and she’s fucking laid out, unconscious, on her bed. You mind telling me what’s going to happen with her?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but once again the words wouldn’t come. My mouth gaped and my gaze darted about, hoping to lock onto something that might inspire the necessary truth. I found nothing.

  “Grim? Now would be a damn good time to say something,” Darthaniel whispered.

  “X will be fine. What she went through was…a rather atypical experience. But like me, she’s as immortal as one can be in this universe. Unless Fate decides it’s done with her, she’ll be okay. Physically. I cannot attest to how she’ll come out of this psychologically, but I’m fairly certain that, given her penchant for the darker arts, X will rise from this occasion unscathed. Unfortunately…” I stopped myself short.

  “What?” Amnesia prompted me. “Unfortunately what?”

  I tilted my head back and stared at the textured whirls on the ceiling. The never-ending circular patterns etched into the plaster held powerful sway over my attention. “It’s not X we need to be concerned about,” I finally managed to say.

  “You mean the angel with the greatest light show on Earth?” Darth responded.

  My head snapped back to front and I glared between Darth and Ammy. “That was no angel.” My voice cracked with anger. “That thing is the surrogate of pure evil. It’s called a recursive Scythe and it is the very embodiment of malevolence. I have one job now…find that bastard and send its soul back to the universe. If I can’t do that, people will die.” I stood from the couch and took a very intentional step forward. “A lot of people.”

  My feet decided to pace. “That’s not all.”

  Ammy stood before me, bringing my nervous waltz to a halt. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  I met Amnesia’s gaze. “You shouldn’t. The Scythe will be coming for X. It knows her, knows she was the one who originally reaped the aura. Jons will stop at nothing to repay the favor.”

  “What do we do?” Darth asked, his voice laced with dread.

  “We find it before it finds us.”

  “Let me guess…” Ammy snarked. “That won’t be easy?”

  “No, it won’t. In fact, this will be the hardest thing either of you have ever done. But, if you want X to come out of this intact, you’ll do everything possible to help me track down—and reap—Mark Jons.”

  “You’re serious?” Darth’s question rumbled from his lips.

  I nodded silently.

  “You can count me in,” Ammy said with pride. “Anything that dares to come for X has to go through me.”

  A bout of inappropriate laughter sounded from my mouth. “I wouldn’t be so cavalier about this, Amnesia.”

  “Why not?” Amnesia questioned.

  “This Scythe will eat you alive. For this, we have to work as a team. And there’s one other thing. Two, actually.” My words came to an abrupt halt.

  Darth stepped forward and tilted his head. “What is it, Grim?”

  “Our team is incomplete without X. In order to keep her around, there’s something she must do…and she’s running out of time.”

  Ammy opened her mouth to respond. I shot a palm to her and stopped the words before they were given voice.

  “The second X wakes in the morning, she and I have to take a bit of a sightseeing trip. Once we return, our little Scooby Gang will focus every effort we can muster on chasing down and taking out the Scythe. Agreed?”

  Amnesia and Darthaniel nodded in concert.

  “And that other thing?” Darth reminded me of the bomb I had to drop.

  “As soon as I reap Jons…” I paused for grave effect. “He has to die.”

  Ammy and Darth glanced at one another and then back to me. Ammy’s hands went to her mouth before she said, “I hope you’re not insinuating—”

  “I am. Very much so. One way or another, we have to kill that bastard.”

  Ammy’s eyeballs nearly exploded from their sockets. “I did not sign up for murder. Sorry, not sorry.”

  Darthaniel caught a wicked case of the vapors and dropped.

  “Good. In the meantime,” I gave the couch a pat, “I highly recommend we all follow Darth’s example and get plenty of sleep. We’ll need it.”

  Without awaiting a reply, I made my way toward X’s bedroom and sneaked inside. X was still tucked in, looking every bit the part of a perfect angel. I draped myself onto the bed and wrapped an arm across her torso. X was out cold, her breathing slightly elevated and erratic.

  “We’re going to take care of this tomorrow,” I whispered softly into her ear.

  I fought hard against sleep, wanting specifically to protect Christine against the possibility of attack by an entity I wasn’t sure I could take down. Although the Scythe had no foreknowledge of my whereabouts, there would be an unbreakable bond between it and X—so it would know how to find the woman respon
sible for nearly taking it down.

  I could fall asleep this very minute and wake up the next morning utterly and profoundly alone. With that thought fueling my purpose, my eyes remained steadfastly open and aware.

  “Grim,” X mumbled softly. She clung to my arm with a death grip that belied her size.

  “I’m here,” I whispered. “You’re safe now.”

  A subtle smile wound its way across X’s lips. The sight warmed me to the core, offered up some semblance of security to my otherwise chaotic existence. In that moment alone, I realized that I had more than I’d ever truly measured.

  And then she elbowed me in the gut. “I’m not some damsel in distress.” A dastardly smile crept across her lips. “I bet I’ll be the one saving your ass.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. She was right…of course. All things being equal—which they clearly weren’t—X would own me in a fight.

  “I love you,” the words barely escaped X’s lips. I wasn’t sure if the trinity was meant for me or some secreted dreamscape where her parents or her favorite band were present. It didn’t matter. I let the moment pass, reminding myself to address that glorious elephant that tromped through room in the morning.

  Or maybe never.

  But probably tomorrow.

  If I could muster up the nerve.

  Never was looking good.

  Without a word, I pulled X in tight and tickled her cheek with a gentle kiss.

  She nailed me in the gut one last time.

  “I love you too…” I said with the slightest hint of a question toward the end.

  “That’s better,” X whispered, and drifted off into the land down slumber.

  The remainder of the night was uneventful. Even Fate left me to my own devices, probably knowing how challenging my day had been and not wanting to pile on. At some point, in the middle of the calming night, I’d drifted off, my head supported on X’s sweet shoulder. When I awoke, however, she was gone. Out of habit, I looked for a note…some simple scrawling warning me to never make contact again. No such missive could be found.

  Panic flooded my system with a double shot of nature’s espresso: adrenaline. I rolled out of bed to see I was still in my clothing from the previous night, so I burst through the door of the bedroom…only to be assaulted by the delicious smell of breakfast. Ammy and Darthaniel were busy tearing into pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fruit, while X busied herself in the kitchen. We were all so relieved that X had made it through the ordeal, for a moment we could pretend that everything was fine and dandy.

  Nothing is ever truly dandy.

  I played along anyway.

  “What gives, bro?” Darthaniel tilted his head back.

  “Hiiiyeee,” Amnesia called out and patted the seat next to hers. “Care to join us?”

  Before I could say a word, X arrived with a plate piled high with my ideal breakfast—a waffle sandwich consisting of three waffles drowning in a viscous waterfall of sugary maple syrup. She gave me a wink before setting the meal on the counter. “Coffee?” X asked.

  I nodded, unable to voice the thoughts bounding about my skull. I wanted to know if this was all a dream. Had Fate decided to toy with my subconscious and tease me with what could have been? When I fell asleep, there was no doubt in my mind everyone would rise ready to rip off my head and shit down my throat. That was clearly not the case.

  I sat. “What’s going on?”

  “Breakfast,” Darth answered.

  “I can see that. What I mean is—”

  “Why aren’t we beating you into submission?” X asked with a wry smile.

  “Something like that.”

  A cup of coffee found its way in front of me. Without hesitation, I snatched it up and took my first sip of some guy named Joe.

  We all ate our morning repast to a symphony of clinking silverware, crunching toast and bacon, and not much else. It wasn’t until X placed her utensils onto her plate that business had seemingly returned to order. “What’s on the schedule?”

  I glanced around the table. “I think you know the first line item on today’s agenda. We have one day left for you to properly reap a soul…otherwise, it’s game over.”

  “Are we invited to this auspicious event?” Ammy asked, her voice filled with hope.

  “Considering what you’ve witnessed so far, I don’t see why not,” I answered.

  Amnesia and Darthaniel celebrated with a shared high five. X spread jam on her toast and smiled half-heartedly.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Who, me?” X answered in between chews.

  “I’m certainly not talking to your crispy bread, now am I?”

  “Well, then…nothing. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Bullshit,” Ammy interjected. “You’re not even remotely fine, Xtine.” Amnesia glanced my way. “I should know…I practically wrote the book on the woman.”

  X gently placed the unfinished breakfast on the plate and folded her hands before her. “Fine. You win. I’m nervous as hell. I’ve already botched one reap…and look where that got us. What if I can’t do this? Will I vanish from existence?”

  “Something like that,” I answered. “Actually, both of us will.”

  “Great. No pressure there.”

  “X…you’ve already come incredibly close. Besides, we have all day. Do you know how many chances at reaping you’ll get on a New York street within a twelve-hour span of time?”

  “A thousand?” X stabbed at a guess.

  “Oh, hell no. If that were the case, I’d need a damn crew of reapers.”

  “Roughly one hundred and fifty,” Ammy answered. “Give or take ten or twenty.”

  I shot a glance to Amnesia. “How did you know that?”

  “When you’re in my business, there are certain odd bits of trivia that wind up on the radar. And before you ask…don’t ask.”

  I held up my hands. “‘Nuff said.”

  “Well, that’s settled,” X offered with the slightest hint of sarcasm under her breath. “That makes me feel better. I’ll have plenty of opportunities to get it right.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Darth cheered. “Wait, did I just hooray the fact that a lot of people die in the Big Apple?”

  I gave the man a pat on the back. “It’s for a good cause, Darth.”

  “This world is far more fucked than I originally thought.”

  You don’t know the half of it, I thought.

  “There’s no time like the present. Right?” X stood and placed her napkin over the empty plate. “Let’s reap.”

  The four of us made our way to the city at large. The humidity had yet to reach critical mass and the temperature was tolerable. The smell of urine hadn’t risen to sully the smell of prosperity and the look on every face hadn’t soured. That would very soon change, once the masses arrived for the morning commute to the daily grind. Jobs had a way of permanently wrecking joy. The American Dream was a nine-to-five farce even Moliere couldn’t have imagined. You could see it written on every face of every living human zombie-stomping their way to work.

  Kill me now, they said without speaking. Had they only known how near to them death stood.

  The first few auras were a veritable rainbow of colors…not one sporting the blackest black.

  “What are we looking for?” Darth asked.

  “You aren’t looking for anything. X and I are the only ones who—”

  Ammy pointed and called out, “Over there.”

  “What?” X and I replied simultaneously.

  “Isn’t that what you’re targeting?”

  I followed Amnesia’s point to see a young woman enshrouded by the black veil of doom.

  “Wait…you can see that?” I asked, curiosity beyond piqued.

  “I used to think it was just the drugs,” Ammy answered. “But it happened even on the rare occasion I was sober. My shrink tried to medicate it away—fancy that irony. My mother was a Shaman. She said I was born with the power of sight beyond sight. I had no ide
a what that meant until I started seeing what I called The Glow. You know what they mean?”

  “You could say that,” X answered in a soft monotone.

  This was certainly a turn I hadn’t expected. I’d suspected there had to be others touched with the ability to foresee the shadow of death overtake the living. It never dawned on me that one might actually cross my path. For the first time in a very long time, I saw the opportunity to turn a sea of water into the finest wine.

  I turned to face Ammy. “Those black auras are exactly what we need. You spot one, point it out.”

  “As I said earlier…over there.” Amnesia winked.

  I took in a deep breath and turned my attention to X. “You ready?”

  X hesitated, her eyes growing wide.

  “X?” I prodded.

  “Ready,” she finally replied.

  Together, we raced off toward the woman in black, slicing and winding our way through the thickening crowd of everymen and women. By the time we reached the spot where she’d been standing, the woman had vanished.

  “The subway,” Darthaniel shouted while pointing toward the underground entry.

  This reap was all too familiar. The second the soul was removed, the woman would jump onto the tracks in time for a subway car to snuff away her existence by dismantling her body.

  As X was about to enter the stairwell, I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to me. “You don’t want this one. Let’s find another soul for you to reap.”

  “But—” X complained.

  I bore my glance into the depths of her eyes. “Trust me, X. We’ll find you a more suitable first reap.”

  X yanked her arm from my grasp and shook her head. “But won’t that woman’s soul be lost?”

  “No. I’ll take care of her. You and the Tweedles Dee and Dum wait topside for me. Can you do that?”

  “I don’t need you to protect me, Grim.” X’s voice dug deep into the wells of strength. “Death isn’t relative. It’s ugly on all fronts. You can’t hide me away until it’s time to reap someone dying peacefully of old age. If I don’t get my fingers dirty now—”