Page 4 of Death Wish

Just as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, another bright light flared, leaving me momentarily blinded. I winced against the harshness of it then blinked quickly to regain my focus. I wasn’t falling anymore; I was floating. At least I thought so. Even after passing between planes multiple times, I still couldn’t quite explain this part of the process except that it always made me uneasy. Good thing it only took seconds to cross over. A very terrifying few seconds.

My ears popped. The light muted and shifted to gray then dark blue, gaining more colors rapidly. Shapes appeared next, twisting and dancing as they took form. I recognized the vague outline of a large structure in the distance. A building. It was getting closer. I remembered the Super Mart’s parking lot where I had opened the spirit door and pushed Tristen through. That had to be what it was.

More wobbly forms came into view. But before I could try to make sense of them, the ground rushed up to meet me and smacked against my backside hard enough to make me howl. At the same time, the night sky tumbled into place over my head.

Then, everything stopped.

Well, except my head and stomach, which both spun in opposite directions. Nausea rolled through me, and my temples throbbed. Not a pleasant combination, but one I could deal with. It was better than dry-heaving for hours afterward, which had been the result the first twenty times or so I’d done this.

The door had spit me out directly on the other side of the veil. Since the afterlife ran parallel to the living world, it was night here, too. I lay on my back, staring up at the sky. It was the same velvety black it always was, littered with too many stars and a full yellow moon. The daytime was always similar. Comfortable temperature, pale blue sky, and lots of sunshine. Mimicking the most beautiful and perfect day on earth. Completely artificial. I hated it.

When I sat up, another wave of queasiness hit, and I grumbled. For possibly the millionth time since I’d died, I wondered why I had been the lucky one to get this job. There were only ten reapers in Styx Corp. Seven in charge of crossing over all the human population and three in charge of supernaturals. Humans outnumbered supernaturals a hundred to one, hence the uneven department sizes. I was one of the three and had been stationed in the Western Hemisphere, working in North and South America, Canada, and the Caribbean countries.

When a reaper was Released from their job, either by choice or by force, the next soul to die got tossed into line to replace them. That was what had happened to me. I had managed to win the reaper lottery.

Lucky me.

Really, I shouldn’t complain. It was common for spirits to become bored of an eternal afterlife of no responsibility or problems, and so they took on work. Not for pay; money isn’t needed when you’re dead. Just to keep busy. I had only been here a year and understood how easy it was to fall into a cycle of monotony. I saw it all the time. Being a reaper saved me from that. And special cases—like with Tristen—certainly kept me entertained.

Speaking of the asshole sorcerer, I looked around the deserted parking lot and saw that I was indeed alone. Like I had thought, Tristen James Williams had been transferred to his afterlife orientation, or wherever new spirits went to, and I had been brought here on the other side of the door. Alone.

When he was done, he’d either be relocated to this supernatural hereafter or a Hell dimension. Depending on his behavior on earth.

And from our tussle before, I assumed we wouldn’t be seeing each other again.

I rubbed my neck, remembering Tristen’s hands around it, squeezing. Something had sparked in my mind then. Random twinges of feelings but nothing else. Could it have been a flashback to a moment when I was alive? Possibly.

Had it been related to the way I had died somehow? No clue.

Maybe there was no connection at all, and I was trying all I could to find a smidge of insight into my time alive. That was more likely.

Even though it had been a year since my death, I was still considered newly departed. The nine other reapers in our group had at least a century to their afterlives, so it was understandable that there were some things from my human life I was still struggling to get over. As time went on, it would get easier, or so I had been told. Things like breathing or blinking or even feeling certain emotions. They were “pesky” human habits that I no longer needed. Not to mention that for a reaper, they could greatly hinder my ability to do my job. Like my life memories, which had been completely stripped from me after my death. Twenty-eight years full of things and people and places, all gone to me now.

A complete mind-wipe freed me of any attachments to the living world. I understood that, too, in a way, but it didn’t stop me from being a little bitter about it. I had essentially lost who I was and had been forced to start over. Left to wonder what my life was before this.

Styx Corp. couldn’t even give me the actual details of my death. I had no idea how or when it had happened. The first memory I had was waking up in Azrael’s office. Then I had been thrown into extensive training with Simon, another reaper of supernaturals. He taught me what I needed to know to cross over all the witches, sorcerers, shapeshifters, weres, and vampires in the world when their time came to an end.

When I tried to dig a little deeper in my memory for an explanation of the strange feeling of recognition, all I got was a strange emptiness. Annoyance flared. There was no way I was ever going to get the answers I wanted. Damn memory wipe.

I spotted the building I had assumed to be the Super Mart when I was changing planes. Not a grocery store but a large library, closed now in the late hour. That made sense. There was no need to eat anymore. Since both the living and nonliving worlds mimicked each other, most of the map and landmarks were the same, but there were some modifications, like here. Restaurants, cafés, and bars still existed, but because they were places to socialize, not necessities.

Standing, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my work tablet. Surprisingly, the thing had managed to survive another rough trip. Not even a scratch, yet my ass was sore as hell. I pressed the button, and Tristen’s profile popped on screen.

I skimmed the stuff I knew—name, age, race, supernatural type—and went right to the bio. As I read, I wanted to smack myself for my stupidity.

Self-acclaimed misogynist… Known to assault his female companions…It went on to list those cases with detailed descriptions and the poor women’s names. I skipped a bit. Arrested in 2007 for battery and attempted murder against fourth girlfriend, Sarah M. Berges, but was released once charges were dropped…

I stopped there. That was all I needed.

So much for my theory of Tristen being a family man and leaving behind a loving wife and a handful of kids.

Why hadn’t I read the damn biography? It would have made things so much easier.

Sighing, I added it to my mental list of must-dos in the future.

A green light flashed at the top of the tablet, and a notification bubble came on screen with Styx Corp.’s company logo in the center, a circle with a man paddling a boat through some treacherous-looking waves in the center. Greek inspired, of course, like their choice of a name. A play on the River Styx in Greek mythology and the boatman who crossed over souls to the underworld, the birthplace of the grim reaper legend.

My stomach sank at the sight of the incoming message. It could only mean one thing.

---