Page 2 of Death Wish

When the last line and symbol was drawn, the chalk glowed orange, proving that my drawing skills were efficient enough. The door was open. At least that part was easy. Now all I needed to do was get Tristen to hop on in. In the other side, he would go through his orientation, the one all souls went through after they passed. At least, that’s what I was told. That part sounded like a lot of bullshit to me.

Because I had been next in line to be one of Styx Corp.’s reapers, my death experience had been different than Tristen’s and everyone else’s. No spirit guide and orientation mumbo jumbo for me. I didn’t get the same treatment, so I didn’t know exactly what happened to other souls when they crossed over. All I knew was that when they were deemed ready by whatever higher being was in charge of this rodeo, the souls were then transferred to their afterlife, where they were expected to live out the rest of their existence. That’s where I lived and where Styx Corp. was located, in a dimension that ran parallel to the living one, designed only for supernaturals. Humans had their own. And for those special cases, like for the murders and rapists of the world… Well, I’m sure they had their own place in Hell, too. I didn’t see them again after crossing them over, and I didn’t ask any questions.

“You did this to me.” Tristen’s suddenly hostile tone made me turn around. He stood there, body rigid, with raw hatred burning in his eyes. “You killed me.”

I leapt to my feet. “What? No, I didn’t.” But that was a lie, wasn’t it? I had killed him. Had taken his life with the touch of my hand. I wasn’t going to tell him that, though.

“Put me back,” he said, the edge in his tone hinting at a threat. “Now.”

“I can’t put you back. That’s not how this works.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but annoyance prickled the back of my neck. “I know this is hard for you right now, but if you come with me, everything will be explained and—”

His hand shot up, and he started mumbling, voice low and strained. His brow creasing, he began to repeat something to himself over and over.

Oh great. He was having a breakdown or something.

“Tristen…” I began cautiously and stepped closer. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Whatever Tristen was trying to say, it looked like he was struggling to get it out. He kept trying, his lips moving at a feverish speed, too fast for me to read. What did come out sounded more like gibberish. Nothing I could recognize or understand. Greek maybe. Or Latin.

Wait, what kind of supernatural did his profile say he was again?

My answer came within the next second. An invisible force smacked into me strong enough to slide me backward a few feet and take me off guard.

He had hit me with some kind of knock-back spell.

That’s right. Tristen James Williams. Age forty-one. Level two sorcerer. The middle grade. I’m sure if we were both alive and he had landed that hit full-on, it would have packed way more of a punch. Although powers transferred over into death, it was going to take him a little while to get used to the new state of his body and get a handle on those spells again.

For that, I was thankful. I didn’t have any special abilities to match his. Whoever I was when alive made me a pretty scrappy fighter in the afterlife, but that was the only skill I had retained. Besides that, all a reaper really had was the touch of death, and that didn’t work on someone who was already dead, like Tristen.

Despite my many protests, Styx Corp. didn’t give us weapons.

The sorcerer repeated his incantation several more times with no result, his words becoming more jumbled as his frustration grew. He shouted a couple more spurts of nonsense before finally giving up and running at me full speed.

I tried to jump out of his path, but I was too late. He tackled me onto the ground. Pain exploded as his weight slammed into me, and my head hit the pavement with an audible crack.

Tristen was no little guy. Technically, I couldn’t die because I was dead already, but things could still hurt like a bitch. And God did this hurt like a bitch. Colors danced before my eyes. I struggled to chase them away.

He gripped my shoulders and shook me. Hard. “You stupid fucking bitch! You put me back! You put me back now!”

Something sparked in the deep recesses of my mind, something I couldn’t quite place or understand. Fear surged from it, too, my heart pounding against my ribs as if I were still alive.

“I’m going to make sure you regret doing this to me,” he said through clenched teeth. “I may not be able to kill you, but how about a crushed windpipe? You talk too much anyway.”

The moment his hands clamped around my throat, fury ignited, whipping through me like a wildfire. I slammed my fist into his gut with every bit of strength I had.

He rolled off me, clutching his stomach and groaning.

So much for me handling this like a professional.

I stood up slowly, my head still whirling. “Look, buddy. Wrong move. Like I told you, I’m here to help you. Not fight you. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

He jumped up and grabbed for my ankles, but I danced out of the way. He swung. I ducked and followed with an uppercut to the chin. He staggered back, clutching his jaw and spewing more curses and threats at me.

Was I really going to have to pull this guy through the door kicking and screaming?

When he came at me again, I got my answer. I spun, coming way too close to falling through the spirit door on the ground.

Shit. I had to be more careful. I shifted my weight, off-balance, and toppled forward into the Honda’s rear door. Suddenly, Tristen was on me, pinning my body between his and the car. Even with his brute force, the car didn’t move, not even an inch—the result of us no longer being a part of the living plane. But I felt every ounce of his two hundred and thirty pounds crushing me. Even felt the cold metal of the door against my cheek.

---