Page 35 of Soul of A Vampire

Probably for the same reason I’m not. My senses are keen on these things. “You know, Mable, the fact that I sensed your friend…”

She sniffles. “I know, Declan. I know. Maybe you can make sure Anabelle is okay.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Comforting the bereaved is not usually my thing, but I can’t say no to Mable.

She thanks me, and I follow the map on the dash and my internal guidance system to a small house on a wooded lane. The lights are on inside.

My heart slows as I get out of the car. Death brings on a calm inside me. There’s a small porch. I knock.

The sense of someone ready to cross over strengthens. I turn the knob and the door isn’t locked. Inside, I cross a tidy sitting room, pass a kitchen, and walk into a bedroom.

The man in the bed is withered. He has a few wisps of white hair. His eyes are open and pale blue. He smiles. “You’ve finally come.”

“Who are you?” asks a woman sitting in the chair beside the bed. Her blue-gray eyes are bloodshot and swollen. She’s dyed her long wavy hair silver with pink ends. She can’t be more than twenty-five and she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

“Mable said you needed me, and I was in the area.” I go to the edge of the bed “Mr. Tipton, I’m Declan Montgomery.”

“That Mable has the most interesting friends.” He relaxes into his pillow. “Will you make sure Anabelle is safe?”

The woman, who I assume is Anabelle, stands on the other side of the bed and takes his bony hand. “I’m fine, Poppy. Don’t worry about me.”

Even though she’s putting on a brave face, I feel her despair. “I’ll see she’s safe, sir.”

He smiles. “Anabelle, I wish I could have given you a better life.”

Tears pour down her face and she kisses his hand. “I had the best childhood and the greatest adventures right here in these woods, Poppy. No one could have felt more loved.”

“You go on back to the city as soon as I’m in the ground.” His voice is stronger.

She doesn’t answer but presses her cheek to his and tells him she loves him. “I wish you’d let me call the ambulance and take you to the hospital.”

“No need.” He grabs my hand.

Closing my eyes, I slow the world around us. His heart beats with mine for the last few breaths of Roger Tipton’s life on this earth. When I open my eyes, Anabelle’s tears defy gravity and float for a moment in midair.

Roger’s grip loosens as his soul lifts from his body. Above us, he gazes lovingly at his granddaughter before slipping into the next life. I put his hand on his chest and release the reaper energy that held the moment. “Can I call someone for you, Miss Tipton?”

She kisses Roger’s forehead and sits in the chair. Taking a cell phone from the nightstand, she dials. “Hi, Joe, it’s Anabelle Tipton. Can you come? Yeah. He’s gone.”

Ending the call, she puts the phone down and stares at the dingy green carpet. Tears stream down her cheeks, but she doesn’t make a sound.

I’ve watched so many people cross over, and I usually walk away once my job is done. Usually, it would have been Roger who needed my comfort, but he was ready to go. In fact, he knew exactly what I am. I kneel in front of Anabelle and wrap my arms around her.

She cries on my shoulder as if we’re old friends. I only feel loneliness and sorrow, not the moment of her death. Generally, I avoid touching people because it’s easier not to know when a young person will leave this life. From Anabelle, there is no sense of mortality. How can that be? I indulge in the sensation of comforting someone who is not near death and whose fate is a mystery to me. She needs a shoulder and mine are plenty broad.

It’s a first.

Twenty minutes later, two men from a funeral home come to care for Roger. They are kind and seem to know Anabelle well.

I stay in the shadows and they barely notice me. It’s part of what I am. Even Anabelle won’t really remember me once I leave. It will be like a dream. That part of being a reaper has never bothered me before, but the idea that she won’t remember gnaws at my gut.

Once they’ve wheeled Roger to the hearse, Joe returns. He’s about forty with black hair that’s gray at the temple. “Can I do anything else for you, Anabelle?”

“No. Everything is arranged just how Poppy wanted it. I’ll come to town tomorrow and we can talk about it.” Tears roll down her cheeks, but she holds herself together.

Joe nods and leaves.

Flopping on the couch in the front room, Anabelle looks small and lost.

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