Ripley's Reaping

Evernight Publishing www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2011 Emma Short

ISBN: 978-1-927368-22-0

Cover Artist: Jinger Heaston Editor: Dana Horbach

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION This one is for Stacey, because I left it until the LAST damn minute, and still she got it published!

RIPLEY'S REAPING Emma Shortt Copyright © 2011

Chapter One The sight of the stapler ricocheting off the wall greeted Ripley as she opened the door to her office. “You’re angry with the stapler because?” Her colleague and friend, Lucia, snarled. “These targets are bullshit. How many have you been asked to collect? Because I tell you now, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna be able to hit my quota.” It didn’t take a genius to work out what Lucia was whining about, and Ripley sighed. “You got your numbers for Christmas?” Lucia nodded and held up a crimson envelope decorated with several sprigs of holly. “Hot off the press, and did you see what they’ve decorated the God damn envelope with?” She stabbed a finger at the offending leaves. “I mean geez, the reindeers last year were bad enough, but this? It’s all over the actual list as well. Garlands of the shit.” Another sigh joined the first, and Ripley ran a hand over her tired eyes. “They’re trying to get us in the holiday mood. It is the boss’s son’s birthday after all.” Lucia snorted. “It’s one of his birthdays, not really even his real one.” “Whatever, wait till they start sending those iced cookies round. I didn’t hear you moaning about them last year.” Lucia shifted in her chair and eyed her friend. “What about you?” she asked, ignoring the cookie reference, because they both knew it was so true. “What the hell have they hit you with?” Ripley cast an eye over her desk, searching for a splodge of crimson. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve had my targets yet, at least I haven’t seen the envelope.” One handed she lifted a pile of papers and moved her keyboard but saw nothing beyond the usual whites and

grays. “Nada. And less of the hell references please, it’s a bit too close for comfort.” Lucia scowled. “I bet they don’t get worked as hard as this down there. Honestly, Rip, I don’t know how they think we can keep up this sort of pace and stay sane.” Ripley shrugged. Her friend was right, not that it made any difference, there was nothing they could do about it after all. Targets were targets, and they’d both be reamed out in their yearly appraisal if they didn’t hit the Christmas ones, not to mention the oh-so crippling guilt. “Depends on your definition of insanity, Luce,” she said after a moment. “Trouble is they’ve no choice but to keep upping the quotas. Death rates are outrageous at the moment despite all the advances in health care, too many natural disasters. Plus our recruitment problem isn’t helping any.” “Any wonder?” Lucia asked. “This is hardly the most glamorous job going is it?” She tapped a finger against her chin and leaned across the desk. “Let me think. Outrageous hours, awful pay, crappy uniform. Need I go on?” Ripley’s gaze travelled down the black robe covering her entire body and nodded. “Yeah the uniform sucks no doubt about it.” “And now with these Christmas targets.” Lucia’s scowl deepened. “It’s going to be a nightmare.” “It was a nightmare last year,” Ripley reminded her. “When we had to collect seventy-five each. You remember that? We did it though didn’t we? The competitors got nothing.” Lucia leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms, the movement accentuating her startling large breasts. Once again, Ripley wondered how Lucia’s assignments took her seriously when she could poke the eye out of dinosaur with her cleavage. Okay yes, she supposed they couldn’t actually see the boob action, but even underneath the somber black robes the outline was pretty obvious. “Last year’s got nothing on this year,” Lucia insisted. Ripley sighed. “Okay, fine, I’ll bite. What did you get?” “One hundred.” Ripley gaped at her friend, suddenly understanding what all the bitching was about. “In a day? You’re not serious?” “Yeah, they’re pretty much turning it into a production line, aren’t they?” Lucia shook her head. “I worked it out earlier—

borrowed your calculator by the way—one hundred in a day, not even including any breaks, means I’ll get about fifteen minutes with each person. Fifteen minutes!” Ripley propped her scythe up against her desk and took a deep breath, the number swirling round her brain. “Fifteen minutes? I guess I should be grateful the calculator didn’t go the same way as the stapler.” “Well bear in mind my math is shit, but I think about fifteen minutes yeah.” Ripley frowned. “Well I guess I can see why you’re worried.” “Is that all you can say?” Lucia demanded. “Aren’t you pissed about this?” Ripley shot her friend a long overdue glare. Of course she was pissed, as Lucia well knew. Everything about this damn job pissed her off. She hated the hours, hated the uniform, and above all, hated the responsibility. Nothing quite said job satisfaction like collecting a crying child’s soul from the still living arms of her parents. Shrugging off her robe, Ripley tried to banish the image of the golden haired sixyear-old of earlier. Nasty though it had been, the simple fact was if she hadn’t done it that child would be burning in the flames right about now, ergo the responsibility and crippling guilt part. “Totally pissed,” Ripley replied as she secured her robeflattened hair. “I mean really where’s the flexi-time benefits I heard mentioned on recruitment day? Not to mention the generous annual leave?” Lucia stuck her tongue out though Ripley wasn’t fooled. She could see a hint of a smile on her friends face. Sometimes, well most times really, levity was the only way to deal with their situation, though when the time came, that levity disappeared. She and Lucia might joke in the office but out in the real world the souls of the dead counted on them for their ticket above. Neither woman had failed yet. Still, one hundred in one day…. “Seriously, Luce,” Ripley began, trying to get her mind around the logistics of such a number. “You know how it goes. Either we collect the souls or they end up down below.” Lucia frowned at the reminder, her brief smile disappearing. “Yes but we can’t collect them all, Rip. It’s impossible. I mean come on. One hundred in a day? Do you think you can do that?”

Ripley hung her robe up on the door hook, her mind playing over the other souls she’d so recently collected. One had taken her almost a full hour to shivvy into action. She hadn’t wanted to leave her baby son. “We’ve got no choice have we?” she said. Even though deep down she knew fifteen minutes per person was asking for trouble. It took time to rip a soul from a body and carry it above, and often, said soul did not want to go. Realistically, factoring that all in, they’d be lucky to get eighty. Ripley shuddered at the fate of the other twenty. “Even if they ask us to collect a thousand like it or not we’ve got to try.” “Yes but—” “On Christmas of all days, we have to give it everything,” Ripley interrupted. “You know it’s the only day of the year our competitors actually go looking rather than waiting. If we don’t put the effort in, our souls could end up in the flames.” “I know this damn it, but it doesn’t change facts,” Lucia said. “We need more staff.” Ripley plopped herself behind her own desk and nodded. “That we do. I wonder how the recruitment department is getting on?” “Shit, probably,” Lucia replied. “I wasn’t joking earlier. I can’t see anyone willingly taking this job on. How many new recruits have come on board in the last three years? Ten? Twenty maybe? Out of how many tens of thousands of dead people? Ripley frowned wanting to deny the numbers but well aware they were about right. “Yeah, the odds don’t go in our favor that’s for sure.” “Because no sane person would take this job on. Fucking hell, we wouldn’t have ourselves if we’d been given the full five-oh.” Ripley couldn’t deny that either. She and Lucia had been recruited by the former boss of the Reaping team. He’d since been fired for dodgy recruitment practices, as the two of them knew only too well. Trouble was once you signed up for Reaping, you were pretty much stuck. The minimum term was a century. Both Ripley and Lucia were only five years in. “Maybe we’ll get a bunch of volunteers from the Christmas collections?” she suggested. Lucia snorted again. “Um, yeah. And maybe the bosses’ll go for my shorter robes idea, not.”

A knock on the door interrupted what would have surely been another tirade from Lucia on the uniform policy. She didn’t work the whole black-robe-here-comes-Death-thing very well, and was very vocal about that fact. Moments later they sat perched on Lucia’s desk, a crimson envelope decorated with jingle bells in Ripley’s hands. “Well?” Lucia prompted, casting said bells a scathing look. “Open the damn thing already.” Ripley tore the envelope undone and, as always, looked down her list to the total at the bottom. The number was the most important thing after all. “Same as you,” she said. “One hundred.” The number buzzed round Ripley’s mind, and she took a deep breath. So many people fated to die on Christmas day, good and maybe a little bit bad, their time on Earth officially at an end. All of them were her responsibility to collect. Those souls that she failed would be collected by the competitors with a one-way ticket to the flames. “Reality bites about now, huh?” Lucia asked. “Yeah.” Ripley scanned the list again, taking in the names, addresses, and dates of birth. A whole load of babies she noticed and felt her heart sink. A fair few old people, too. Several, who were far too young to die, and then…. Ripley paused, her heart leaping into her throat. Was she seeing things? Was she confused? But no the name was right there, that awfully familiar name. “It can’t be….” She stood up, staggering slightly, and Lucia reached out to steady her. “Ripley? What the hell?” “It can’t be,” she breathed. “Please no…” “Rip, what’s the matter?” Ripley shook her head, her whole body suddenly clammy, panic raced its way through her veins. It was too soon for this, far too soon. “This name.” She pointed a shaky finger down to the very bottom of the list, the last but one name on it in fact. “Nicholas Ryder?” Lucia asked. “What about him?” “It can’t be. Dear God, it can’t be him.” “Ripley?” Lucia demanded. “What the hell’s wrong?” Ripley held the list away from herself, reluctant even to keep a hold of it. A nasty ringing started in her ears, nausea welled in her stomach, and the denial continued. No. No. No.

“Babe?” Lucia prompted. “Talk to me.” “It’s Nick,” she finally whispered. “The date of birth and the address, they all match. It’s him.” “Who is him?” Unable to form a proper answer, Ripley sucked in a shaky breath. “It’s Nick.” “Yeah but…shit, you’re not related?” Swallowing around the lump firmly wedged in her throat, Ripley gathered her thoughts. “No, not in the way you mean.” “Who is he then?” No. No. No. Too soon. Tears pricked her eyes, and Ripley fell back into her chair, finding the words at last. “He was my husband.”

Chapter Two Nicholas Ryder, known as Nick to his friends, pulled his Harley into the driveway and dismounted. His legs felt stiff after a day of riding the city, and he shook them out, frowning when the ache travelled upwards. He leaned against the wall, flexing his body, and almost smiled when he imagined how he might look to anyone passing. Like a freak probably, but then that would be about right. The ache easing slightly Nick unbuttoned his jacket and removed his helmet, grimacing when his head thumped against the action. He’d been having the headaches for a while now. They’d almost become part of his everyday routine. Get up, eat breakfast, headache begins, take tablets, work, headache comes back, and so on. He promised himself he’d see the doctor soon, but then he’d been promising himself that for the last couple of years—he knew in reality he’d never go. Nick mentally inventoried the fridge and cupboards as he walked the path to his front door, frowning when he realized the best he could hope for dinner-wise was a microwave meal. He was almost tempted to ride round to his mom’s or one of his sister’s, but the lectures he was bound to receive would not be worth the price of the dinner. Microwave crap it was. He wondered idly if his diet was to blame for the constant headaches and stiffness. Or maybe it was the booze, the late nights, and the guilt. Could be a combination he decided then dismissed his thoughts. It didn’t really matter after all, he’d just take some more painkillers and that would be that. He dragged his keys from his front pocket, not really looking where he was going and let out a shaky breath. His foot hit something, sent it crashing against the flagstones and he cursed. What was left of a large poinsettia lay, scattered, against the faded welcome mat, like some sort of Christmas omen of doom. It had to be from his neighbor, Mrs. Gerching. She often left little presents around the holidays. As if these might help in some way, or maybe just to let him know she was thinking of him. He picked it up, pulled it out of its wrappings, and dropped it in one of the empty flowerpots. Not because he had any deep desire to have it there but because it would please his elderly neighbor and Nick wasn’t so far gone to not think about things like that.

“Happy fucking Christmas,” he muttered, opened his front door then kicked it shut. A small pile of mail spread over the floor, and he cursed again as he bent to gather them, his head pounding. They were mostly bills and a few circulars, though he saw a couple of red envelopes. Christmas cards no doubt, it was unlikely he’d even open them. He tossed them aside with his keys, and the noise of the metal falling seemed much too loud for Nick. He scowled at the side table, picked the red envelopes back up and threw them in the trash basket along with the poinsettia wrappings. It wasn’t the cards’ fault, of course, it was all down to the silence. He let it settle over him and felt the ache in his head increase. “I’m home,” he said, his words bouncing across the empty space. No one answered, because there wasn’t anyone to answer. “Home….” His voice trailed off, and he took a deep breath, surrounded by the silence. Always the silence. He’d never really gotten used to it and couldn’t quite work out how an absence of noise could feel so odd. But then it wasn’t just the noise was it? More the knowledge of another, warm, breathing person in the house, or not, as the case was. Dropping onto the couch, Nick barely even noticed as it sagged beneath him. The springs were pretty much worn out, had been for some time. In fact, everything in his little house was a bit worn out, kind of like him. His gaze wandered to the faded drapes around the sitting room window. The flowery pattern was almost gone, nothing more than a blur of color. The cushions, too, they had once matched the drapes, but the years had turned them a little grimy. The pattern Katie had spent so long on gone forever. His head throbbed again, and Nick clenched his fists. Katie. How long since he’d sat and thought about her? Too long surely, but then it was the only way Nick had found to cope. He’d spent the first year without her in a fog of pain and anger, his sanity slowly slipping away. It had taken the intervention of friends and family for him to crawl out of his hole and he’d decided there and then that the only way forward was to push her into a small part of his mind. Every few days, he allowed himself to bring her out and think about her. Clearly today was going to be a Katie day. Nick stood up and walked to the tiny kitchen. It too bore the marks of Katie’s decorative skills. Flowered ruffles around the window, a stencil of the same flowers around the walls, and the

delicate china she’d collected so carefully in the cupboards. Nick did not use that china; he was terrified of breaking it. He glanced over the room, frowning as a varied bunch of scents hit him. It looked like the bin needed emptying, the washing up doing. In all honesty, the place could do with a damn good scrub all round. Tomorrow, he told himself. It was always tomorrow. Nick grabbed a ready meal from the fridge, popped it in the microwave, and gathered one of the few remaining plates and forks whilst it cooked. The noise of the machine was the only sound besides his breathing, and Nick leaned against the counter, dropping his aching head in his hands. What he wouldn’t give for a bit of noise— despite his headache. The sound of another voice, another person moving around…. The microwave pinged about the same time another spike of pain hit him, and Nick straightened up before grabbing a glass of water and two painkillers. Swigging them down, he took the overlyhot meal from the microwave plate and placed it on his dinner plate. The ceramic was chipped around the sides, the brown glaze about worn off. His mom had given him the set when she’d realized he was using paper plates rather than spoil Katie’s collection. Of course, no one called her that. As soon as they’d started dating, she’d told him in no uncertain terms that she went by her last name. He smiled down at his plate, the rare expression feeling strange. It had never fit in his opinion. Her surname was for a kick ass kinda girl, and his Katie had been all kinds of soft and sweet. So that’s what he’d called her, right up until the end. His head throbbed again, and he tried to push the thought of Katie’s final moments to the back of his mind. The blood and the tears…he’d never been able to think about that time without burning in anger and pain. Five years later, it was no different, just ever so slightly subdued. He made his way back to the sitting room, balancing his plate on one hand, and turned on the TV. The noise filled the room cheering him slightly. It was rare he had much in the way of company. The TV had become his companion. He was well aware of what that said about him and the current state of his life. A Christmas jingle filled the room, and Nick titled his head to get a good look at the kids singing on the screen. They were clustered around a large tree, fairy lights twinkling in the background. Another

smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and Nick almost felt like singing along with them. The impulse disappeared as soon as it came, and his face settled back to the same usual lines. Not a scowl exactly, more like a blankness. Because what was there to even smile about apart from little things now and then. Things that took him by surprise. And to scowl? Well scowls made no difference and took more energy than he had. Scooping up a forkful of glop, Nick took a deep breath. If he finished his dinner soon, he could go to bed, and he was so worn out surely sleep would claim him quickly? Then it would be time for work, and he’d have plenty to keep his mind busy. Away from her. He ate mechanically, not even picking up a taste, his mind, his damn traitorous mind, filling with thoughts of long golden hair, cornflower blue eyes, and that amazing smile. In five long years, no one had come close to replacing her in either his heart or his mind, and though Nick knew the years, and his life, was slipping away he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. It was like that night, the night he lost her, had dropped him into the deep and as hard as he tried he could not swim back to the shallows. Not without her. He dropped his fork. The microwave meal burning like ashes in his mouth and Nick, inexplicably, found himself wishing that he’d let her teach him how to cook, just like she’d wanted to. Of course, Nick didn’t know that soon enough he’d never need to cook anything ever again.

Chapter Three Ripley arrived back in her office a week later panting and exhausted. She’d pulled a twenty-hour shift and felt like shit. Lucia greeted her with a cup of much needed coffee, only having just arrived herself, and Ripley sagged into her chair, hands wrapped around the mug for warmth. “Bad one?” Ripley nodded. “Eleven babies.” Lucia frowned. “Yeah I had four myself. One was only three hours old. She looked up at me with these big blue eyes, and when I scooped my hand in to grab her she screamed….” “The babies always scream the worst,” Ripley said. “They don’t know what’s happening. They’ve only just got there, and then we come and rip them back out.” “I prefer the oldies. Sometimes they’re grateful we’ve come.” Ripley nodded. “Yeah, sometimes. They still scream though.” The two women sat in their chairs and warmed their hands on their coffee mugs. Neither spoke for several minutes, their minds going over the collection of the day. Ripley couldn’t help thinking about the babies, thinking and brooding, but then she’d been in a funk all week. The Christmas targets weighing heavy on her mind—one in particular. “Enough of this,” Lucia said after a moment. “I’ve been considering the whole Ryder thing.” Ripley’s heart gave a nasty thud. “Have you indeed.” Lucia nodded slowly. “I think we should swap.” It was times like this that made Ripley glad she’d been teamed with Lucia. They’d signed up for Reaping a week apart, both under the impression that the job was far different than it actually was. The two had become firm friends once reality set in and now a handful of years later they both thanked those above for throwing them together. “You know we can’t swap. We’d be in so much trouble if we got found out,” Ripley said, her stomach flipping like a just caught fish. “Yeah but what’s the likelihood of them actually realizing?” Lucia asked. “They’d realize. Nothing gets past them.”

“Yeah maybe, but once we have the soul you know they’d never turn it away. If he’s on the list he’s on the list. His entry is guaranteed.” “True….” “So I should do this. Save you the angst and all that.” Ripley laughed. The angst? How could she explain to Lucia that angst didn’t even come close to covering it? Or that as much as she knew it was going to hurt she had to be the one. She’s thought about it a lot over the last few days, and one thought had crystallized above all others. No matter how much it broke her heart she had to be there for Nick’s final moments. Sure, he wouldn’t know it was her but maybe in some way, even if it was subconscious, he might be comforted by her presence. Then, too, was the fact that just imagining being by him again, if only for a few moments, would be enough to keep her going for the next decade at least. She could look at him, breathe him in, and store all the memories up to see her through the long years to come. Slightly insane maybe? Yeah, probably, but how she missed him…. “I’ll make sure I get him,” Lucia added. “Your Nick.” “I appreciate the offer,” Ripley said, ignoring the longing just thinking his name produced. “It means a lot that you’d do that for me, but….” She paused. “I need to do this.” “You sure?” Ripley closed her eyes and imagined Nick’s beautiful face. Her body clenched, and her heart thudded with want. The list had stated his cause of death as a massive cerebral hemorrhage—on Christmas day of all things. She couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like when she collected him. Would his green eyes still twinkle, or would they be as dim in death as everyone else’s? Would he scream and beg, or would he accept his fate with the same courage she’d always admired in him? She hoped the fear might bypass him, that he’d shrug it off, but in reality knew that was unlikely to be the case. Everyone, including some of the bravest of people on Earth, trembled when faced with death incarnate. Which, she thought, made it even more important that she was the one there for him. The two of them together until the end, even if one didn’t realize it. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m sure.” “They must know,” Lucia said after a moment, taking a swig of her coffee. “Surely they must know what Nick is to you? And I’ve

been thinking about that. Why have they set it up like this, knowing what they do I mean?” “We leave all earthly thoughts behind,” Ripley quoted. “That’s why. Besides we’re so understaffed, I doubt there was much else they could do. Everyone on my list is within my normal radius. I can tell you now that Nick’s smack bang in the middle of that circle.” “You know that how?” Ripley paused before answering, her heart still thudding away in her chest. “He’s still living in our house.” Lucia’s jaw dropped, and she shot Ripley and incredulous look. “Your house? Wow, back up a little here, Rip. He stayed in your house, the one you lived in together?” Ripley nodded jerkily, her mind skipping back to happier times when the idea of the Grim Reaper was nothing more than a fantasy. When she knew nothing about the pain of pulling people’s souls out of their bodies, having them scream and cry in her arms, or blame her for their demise. A time when the only arms she’d ever felt around her had been Nick’s. God, she missed him so damn much. “Yeah,” she said, shaking her depressing thoughts away. “And?” Lucia prompted, waving her hands. “And I do not want to talk about this.” “Fuck that,” Lucia said. “You skedaddled before I could pump you last time, and I’ve been all sensitive and thoughtful—” Ripley snorted. “Well I have, but enough. We’re best friends. Dish.” Ripley knew, tired or no, Lucia would not give up until she spilled, and in a way, she wanted to. For five long years she hadn’t so much as spoke his name, hadn’t allowed herself to, but now? In a mere matter of days, she’d be seeing him again. And he’ll be dead. But at least she’d get to see him, she reassured herself. That had to be enough. “We got together when I was twenty-four and he was twentysix,” Ripley began. “Young love in all its glory. We got engaged a year later and married not long after. We were together until the end.” “Until you died?” Ripley picked up the crimson list, her gaze going straight to Nick’s entry. How she missed him. “Yes,” she said softly. “Until I died.”

“But you’ve never spoken of him,” Lucia said, the question in her voice obvious. “We leave all earthly thoughts behind,” Ripley quoted again. “When I first heard that line I thought it was such bullshit, but you come to realize as the years pass that it’s the only way. To spend all your time thinking about those you left behind…it becomes impossible.” Lucia nodded slowly. “I know.” “I couldn’t think of him as mine anymore, Luce. Can you understand that?” “Yes, of course I can.” “I was twenty-nine when I died,” she said softly. “We had five years together, three of them married. And damn they were amazing years, Luce. I loved him so much. We had such fun together, you know? The kind of fun you know you’ll only find with someone once in your lifetime.” Ripley paused and clenched her hand around the list. Her mind filling with the old memories she tried so hard to repress. “I loved him more than I can even explain.” “You could have spoken to me about it,” Lucia said after a moment. Ripley placed her list back in the crimson envelope lest she crease it beyond recognition. “You remember when we first got here?” Lucia nodded. “Who could forget?” “We were both pretty screwed up. Explains why we got talked into this gig so easily I guess.” “That and the fact our last boss was a shit who lied to us about what all this entailed.” “Well, yeah. The point is that I was in so much shock,” Ripley said, ignoring Lucia’s comment on their last boss, who had indeed, been a shit. “We both were. The death thing and the loss and everything. I couldn’t even say his name, I missed him so fucking much, even in this new body it was a palpable ache. So I just pushed him to the back of my mind and brought him out when I was on my own.” She clenched her fists, the old anger building. “If not for that drunk driver I’d still be alive. We’d probably have kids now, a real family. I wouldn’t spend my time as a fucking Grim Reaper.” “Cheer Reaper, Ripley, remember.”

Ripley laughed slightly in spite of herself. “Changing the name does not change reality, hun. Call us Cheer Reapers all you want, fact of the matter is we’re death personified.” “Well….” “And now he’s about to die, at just thirty-six, and I’m going to have to go and collect his soul in all my Grim Reaper fucking glory.” Head dropping into her hands, Ripley couldn’t help but spend a moment thinking about the unfairness of it all. Unfair that she’d only been given twenty-nine years of life, that she’d only got to spend five of them with Nick, and that now, just a handful of years later, she’d have to rip his soul from his body. What if he had re-married? If he had kids, the kids she’d wanted to have with him? She’d be ripping apart more than just one life. Ripley. It couldn’t be more apt. “Have you seen him since?” Luce asked softly. Ripley shook her head. “No. How could I? He hasn’t been on the list before now.” “I’ve heard of other Reapers sneaking off to see their loved ones.” Ripley shuddered. “God, no. I’d probably have ended up haunting him, or doing something equally as stupid. Leaving him once was bad enough, and I had no choice. Going back I don’t think I could do that, leave him again I mean. I don’t know what I’d do.” Lucia nodded, and the two looked at one another for a moment. “But you think you can do this?” “I have to. He’s expected above, I know I won’t get to keep him, just to take him where he’s meant to be. I can do this.” Lucia stood up and poured them both another cup of coffee. Ripley got the impression that the other woman was steeling herself to say something. “Look, Rip,” she began as she passed the fresh cup across. “I know this is going to be hard, seeing as what you just told me and all. But we’ve done this thousands of times, yeah? Remember when I had to go and collect my high school English teacher? Yeah, okay, not really the same thing I’ll admit, but it was still pretty freaky. But it’s the job. How many times have you told me that? It’s not like you’ve decided his time is up. It just is.” “This will be different,” Ripley whispered. “Yes but—”

“No but, Luce. Think for a moment. It’s scheduled for Christmas night. The only time in the whole year our competitors actively go looking for souls to claim. I’ll have to get to him before they do. I’ll have to be there at the very moment of his death. A second too late and they’ll pounce, and then….” “You’ll get there,” Lucia insisted. Ripley looked away from her friend, not wanting her to see the worry and pain she knew was shining clearly in her eyes. “He’s number ninety-nine on the list, Luce. If I fail, and there’s a damn good chance I will, he’ll spend an eternity burning in the flames. And if by some miracle I manage it, he’ll have a one way ticket above…either way….” Ripley gulped the lump in her throat down and blinked away the treacherous moisture. “Either way it’ll finally be the end.”

Chapter Four Christmas day did not start well for Nick. He was awoken, far too early, by a repetitive pounding on the front door. He stumbled out of bed on shaky legs and looked through the curtains to see his sister tapping her foot impatiently on the threadbare welcome mat. He knew immediately why she’d come. He’d refused dinner with his younger sister, Emily, the night before and nothing was likely to get Mary’s ire up than a refused invitation, even if she wasn’t the one giving it. But then Mary was his oldest and bossiest sister—without even the lure of playful, uncomplicated nieces and nephews to entice him around to her house—and though Nick knew it was harsh of him he had taken to avoiding her of late. Emily was another matter and ordinarily Nick might have said yes to her invitation. But already after being out of bed for less than a minute his head ached intolerably and was only bound to get worse. He didn’t think the company of a half dozen children would help that. He lurched into the bathroom, ignoring Mary’s continual pounding, and drank a pint of water straight down. The water sloshed in his empty stomach, and he frowned remembering the awful scrambled eggs he’d tried to make himself the night before. Four painkillers followed the water but did little to subdue the pain. As he made his way to the front door, dragging on a pair of jeans, it occurred to Nick, in an abstract sort of way, that it really might be time to do something about the constant headaches. Katie would have insisted he see a doctor. In fact, now that he thought about it Nick was pretty sure she’d have taken him to one years ago. She was always on top of things like that. “Just come to make sure you’re okay, Nicholas,” Mary said when he finally opened the door. “Yes, I know it is Christmas morning, and yes, you have dragged me away from Kevin, but not to worry.” The morning light was far too bright, though it shouldn’t be. It was winter after all, and Nick recoiled slightly from the glare. “You look like shit,” Mary added. Nick sighed. “I’m just fine, sis.” She swept into his home, scrunching her nose at the sight in front of her. “This place gets worse every single time I visit.” “Well….”

“There’s no ‘well’ about it, Nicholas.” Nick rubbed his eyes, which the sunlight still stung, and looked around the room. It was true that with the excessive daytime light filtering into the small sitting room everything looked a little on the grim side. He rarely got to see it at this time of day. He was out of the door for work in the early hours of the morning, and it was dark when he returned. In fact, it was not unknown for Nick to work a twelve-hour day. What, after all, was there for him to come home to? He only wished he could have worked Christmas too. “It suits me just fine.” “It suited you just fine five years ago. It suited you both fine then but now.” Mary sighed, and Nicholas tore his gaze from the sympathy he could see in her eyes. “Please, Mary, let’s not get into this now.” After another restless night with Katie foremost in his thoughts, Nick did not feel like raking everything up again. There was only so much he could take, and several days of it was the tipping point. Today could not be another Katie day. He simply was not strong enough for it. Shaking the drapes, Mary sniffed. “Who else will get into it but me? You spend every holiday these days in this place by yourself, surrounded by her things. I mean really, Nick.” She shook the drapes again. “Look at these. They’re faded beyond belief.” Nick sat down on the sagging couch and ran a hand across his neck, shocked to feel beads of sweat coating it. “I spent Easter with the family.” “That was months ago.” Was he becoming feverish? And had it really been that long? “Yes, I guess that’s true….” “And since then nothing.” She paused before patting the couch and sitting down next to him. “It’s been five years, Nick.” A virus would make sense, explain the increase in the head pain he could feel. But the headaches had been around so long and viruses lasted a few days at most. Nick frowned unsure what to think. “Five years,” Mary repeated. “I know that,” he said, wondering for the millionth time why people, specifically his family and few friends, thought that saying the number would make a difference. He knew how many years it had been, how many months, how many weeks, and how many days. He felt it every morning and every night and being told over and over

made no damn difference. And, yes, intellectually Nick knew that enough time had passed for him to start thinking about moving on, but his heart, well, it wouldn’t listen. “Did you come around simply to lecture me?” he asked. “I came for....” Mary hesitated, her lips pursed into a scowl before shaking her head. “You’re not going to like this but, well, it’s time.” Nick frowned—pretty sure that he was beginning to run a fever—and wished Mary would just get to the damn point. “What?” “I’m throwing a dinner party tonight, Christmas-themed obviously. Everyone is going to come in costume, even Em and the kids. And we’re having some friends and such too, and well, you remember Anita?” A strange, nasty feeling slithered up Nick’s spine, and he clenched his fists. “Please tell me that you are not going to say what I think you’re going to say.” “You should come. It’ll do you good. You refused Em’s invitation after all.” How many times had Nick heard how good things would be for him? Spending more time with friends. Going out more often. Dating…he swallowed down a lump in his throat. The very idea made him feel panicky, wrong, ill. “Not going to happen.” “Nick—” “What you’re suggesting….” To replace Katie with someone else? To wrap his arms around another woman, to kiss another person’s lips? Someone else sighing his name? Nausea reared, his head pounded, and Nick stood up abruptly. “Seriously, Mary, I do not want to hear this.” “But Nick—” “There is no but.” Nick knew he had to stop her before she got into full flow. As it had been when they were children so, too, was it now. “I don’t need this sort of advice. I’m happy as I am.” “You’re not happy. You haven’t been happy since that night.” “You find that surprising?” She sniffed. “No. I find it sad and heartbreaking and a million other things. But surprising? No.” “Then what is this about?”

Mary stood up, eyed the sagging couch, and took a deep breath. “It’s about you realizing that Katie is dead. It’s time to move on.” A spike of pain shot up Nick’s head, gripping hard around his temples and squeezing. He took a shaky breath and tried to steady himself. “I’m well aware that Katie’s dead.” Mary sighed and reached out. “But are you aware that you’re not?”

Chapter Five The scream almost pierced Ripley’s ears, and she was grateful for the heavy robes that covered them. Fashionable or not, they were handy for some things. “Everything is okay, just calm down,” she soothed. The soul of the dead man shuddered within his rapidly cooling body. “You’re him. You’ve come for me.” So she sounded like a man, did she? Ripley sighed. She had to make allowances she supposed, after all the chap had just died. “Everything is fine.” “Please. I don’t want to go. Don’t make me go. Please.” The soul writhed in the confines of the flesh, and Ripley could tell that he was not going to come out easily. Too entrenched in what had been his body he did not want to leave. Damn it, she did not have time for this! Being quite stealthily about it, she surveyed the room and then the dead body. A watch hung askew on the mottling wrist. A quick mental calculation and Ripley calculated that she had seven minutes at most. She was sixty-nine souls into her Christmas collections, and so far, she’d only just stuck to her self-imposed schedule. Still, it wouldn’t take much to de-rail it, and that was unthinkable. Nothing could hold her up. Nothing. Nick was waiting for her. Nick…. “My wife,” the soul said, writhing again. “Don’t take me away from her. She’s ill. She needs me to care for her. Please don’t make me go.” “Your time has come,” Ripley said softly. “I’m dead?” Ripley nodded, wishing the poor man could see her face and be reassured by the sympathy and compassion in it. Though in truth, right about now, she was more likely to look panicked. Five minutes left. “Yes. You are.” “How?” They always wanted to know how, few remembered the actual moment of death. Most times, they simply blanked out and awoke in their body, just not in it. “You had a heart attack. Your body can’t be saved.” “What am I then? If I’m dead? What am I?”

“You’re still you. Just different.” How many times over the past three years had Ripley tried to explain the mechanics of death to the poor souls she collected? They never really took it in, unless they were religious in life. But even then, they expected something a little different to a black-robed being holding a scythe. Where are the angels they asked? Where is my family? Ripley had no answers to give. She’d never made it past the pearly gates. Reaperdom had come calling long before that, and she, like a fool, had let it. “You’re going to take me?” “Yes.” “Where?” Where indeed. “Above.” The soul’s eyes widened, and he shrank back into his body. “I don’t want to go.” Ripley’s eyes flashed to the watch again. Four and a half minutes. “You do not have a choice.” He started crying, and Ripley felt like crying with him. In frustration, in anger, in plain old sadness—she didn’t know which. “Please, please, please. My wife, my wife,” he chanted. Unbidden, Ripley’s mind flashed to their house. Nick was waiting there, damn it. Soon he would die. Soon his soul would be waiting for her, and if she didn’t get there in time. She swallowed. It didn’t bear thinking about. “Please,” the soul begged. Selfish though Ripley knew it was, she didn’t have time to comfort the soul, not if she was going to get to Nick in time. Unfortunately, he was just going to have yark it up. Scythe in one hand, Ripley reached with her other into the body. She made a sort of scooping motion until she found the connection between the soul and the heart. The soul screamed. Ripley clenched her fist around the connection. It felt strange in her hand, almost like a tentacle, and she shivered. The soul screamed again. She sympathized, damn she did. It was an awful experience. Ripley remembered it well. The last link to the human flesh didn’t want to let go, and the result of making it was extreme pain. “Please don’t….”

Another scream and Ripley took a deep breath and pulled. The connection shuddered in her hand, wanting to stay in one piece but helpless against the force of her pull. Ripley pulled again, harder, and with one final scream, the soul tumbled out of the body. He landed on his hands and knees right in-between her and the flesh. He peered across at his body, eyes wide and started crying again. “No, no, no,’” he sobbed. “Please….” Ripley gritted her teeth, stood up, and in one swift movement swung the scythe. The scythe severed the remaining connection between the flesh and the soul. Freeing them both. The soul screamed. Ripley ignored him, snuck one last glance at the watch and felt panic slither up her spine. Two minutes left, the poor man was going to have a quick ride up above. “Come,” she said. “There is nothing for you here now.” “But my wife.” Ripley closed her eyes. “We leave all earthly thoughts behind.” And she knew that was true but then there was Nick, and really, what good was it for her to give out advice that she’d never been able to follow herself?

Chapter Six The doctor’s office did not answer on his first call or his second but then at this hour of the night on Christmas proper, why was Nick surprised? The automated voice on the machine read out a number for him to call, and Nick struggled against his blurred vision to write it down. He gave up halfway through and sat down on the couch, trying in vain to find a position that eased the blinding pain in his head. Because it was blinding. Somehow, over the course of the evening, the pain had gone from a squeeze to a throb to a vise. Nick thought of calling someone other than the Doctors but wasn’t sure who. His family would all be at Mary’s dinner party, and he didn’t want to interrupt them. They’d come and fuss and nag, and he simply was not able to deal with it. Maybe he should just try to sleep? Maybe it would all be fine when he awoke? For one brief moment, part of him almost wished he’d taken Mary up on her offer, at least then there would have been someone around to call the Doctor for him or grab him some more pain killers—he was fresh out. But as soon as he thought it, he knew he’d been right to stay away. The idea of having to be sociable and talk to another woman made his head ache even more. He lay down on the couch, grimacing slightly at the piles of unwashed clothes over the chairs and dirty coffee mugs littering the side tables. Understanding at last why Mary had turned her nose up and implored him to “sort this crap out.” He would. He’d clean soon he promised himself, as soon as the damn ache eased. Nick pulled the comforter off the back of the couch, the one Katie had crocheted from scratch, and wrapped it around his body. The effort that took seemed out of proportion to the action, and he released a shaky breath. He could feel sweat beading across his head and neck and shivered under the thin blanket. There was no doubt about the fever. He could almost feel the heat burning on his skin, and he knew he should be doing something about it, but couldn’t think what. The ease of which sleep came should have concerned him but Nick was so grateful of the reprieve he didn’t even think of what it might mean. Almost immediately, he fell into a dream, and predictably, it was the same dream that had haunted him for the past three years.

“We don’t need any cream. Stay in bed.” Katie giggled and wriggled out from under him. “We need cream for the strawberries. You know I can’t eat them just plain.” “The last time we had strawberries in bed with us, they tasted just fine,” he insisted. She laughed and ran a finger down his chest. “Well we were kinda creative with them though weren’t we?” “Mmm, strawberries and Katie. There is no better combination in the world.” “I’ll be five minutes at the very most. Just a quick drive to the mart.” “You know what I’ll be doing with the cream don’t you?” “The same thing you’ll be doing with the strawberries.” “Exactly.” He pulled her back into his arms, delighted as always by the feel of her flesh against his. She squeaked, and he laughed as he trailed tiny kisses down her neck all the way to her breasts. “The cream….” Her words halted as he latched his mouth around one pert nipple. It hardened against his tongue, and he groaned. “Katie.” A hand slipped between their bodies, and Nick’s entire body clenched. “I need to leave you sated it seems,” she said. The feel of her lips on his cock was enough to make his head spin, and he fisted a hand in her golden hair, guiding her exactly as he wanted her. “Katie….” Her tongue trailed across his head, licking him delicately. “This would taste much better with cream on it,” she whispered. “Just like the strawberries will taste when I eat them off you.” The dream changed then, as always. Nick sat in bed waiting for Katie’s return, considering exactly what he was going to do with the strawberries and cream and her luscious little body. The noise of a siren interrupted his sated mind and he frowned, wondering what the problem was. Their area was residential and saw little in the way of siren action. He dragged on a pair of sweat pants and wandered into the sitting room. Pushing the flowery drapes aside, he looked out and saw that the ambulance was parked down the street. Curious he went out the front door and took a closer look. There, on the corner, was a large Jeep, its front end completely smushed.

Nick whistled below his breath and craned his neck to see if the other car had fared any better. It took the space of a heartbeat before he realized, and then his feet were carrying him down the road, grit and gravel biting into the soles of his feet…. He awoke dripping in sweat, curled up on the couch. Panic hit the moment consciousness did, and it took a moment for him to realize why. He couldn’t feel his fingers or his toes, numbness was creeping up his limbs, snaking its way into his muscles. Nick knew then that something was seriously wrong. Had known it ever since his vision had started to blur and the fever to rage. He moved across the couch, wondering what course of action to take. But he wondered in an intangible sort of way. The pain confusing him and making everything seem almost surreal. Another spike of pain inside his brain and he retched. Had there been anything in his stomach it would have come right up, but there wasn’t, and all he could do was convulse against the impulse to heave. It was pain, numbness, and confusion, and Nick was lost within it all. There was only one small part of his brain that wasn’t screaming in pain or panicking, one small part of him left. It had only one thought. Katie. Hers was the last thought he carried with him into the blackness.

Chapter Seven The sight of Nick’s body stretched out on the couch was enough for Ripley’s heart to drop to her feet. The sight of a competitor leaning over him was enough for it to explode. She pushed open the sitting room door to its fullest arc and ran as fast as she could through the small, familiar room. “Get the hell away from him.” The competitor cackled and moved closer. Even from a distance of a few feet, Ripley could smell the flames. Like her, he wore black robes but unlike hers they were singed in various places, enough for Ripley to see the charred flesh beneath. “Mine,” it whispered. “No,” she shrieked. “Get away from him.” “You’re too late, Reaper.” Ripley looked up at the clock, her heart racing so fast she thought it might fly right out of her chest. It was just after eleven. She was too late, one minute thirty fucking seconds too late. Though she’d gained ground on number eighty through to ninety-eight, hurrying them along with a speed that said major guilt, the last soul had been difficult. But then teenagers were in life, why the heck would death change that? “He belongs to us now.” If it could have smiled, it would have, and Ripley screamed. “No. You can’t have him.” “Yeesss.” Ripley knew what she had to do. She’d done it her first ever Christmas and barely survived final elimination, because few went up against the Reapers of Hell and managed it. She didn’t know what it was about this night that made it so special to them, but something did. It was the one night of the year when they actively went looking for souls to claim, rather than taking those left off the list, and those the over-stretched Reapers were simply unable to collect. “If you touch him, I’ll finish you,” Ripley said. “You know the rules, Reaper,” the beast said. “You must be here for the moment the body dies, and the soul becomes aware. You missed it.” But had she? Ripley looked down at Nick’s body, and her heart broke all over again. He looked different, and not just because

he was dead. She could see that the last five years had not been kind to him. His once inky hair was streaked with grey, his face etched with worry lines, and his once hard body had softened. Her death had done that to him. She knew it the moment she thought it and a strange quiver assailed her. Different he might look, but to her, he was as handsome as he had ever been. She’d missed him so fucking much. “He’s not aware yet,” she whispered. “Any moment now,” the beast said. “But not yet.” Ripley launched herself forward, scythe clenched tightly in her stronger right hand. The Hell Reaper hissed and jumped back, only just missing the swing of her weapon. A clawed hand shot out, and she ducked, the top of her robe taking the brunt and splitting. “You won’t take him, Reaper,” it shrieked. “I—” A scream pierced the air, and the blood in Ripley’s soul veins froze into ice. Her attention caught. Nick. His soul had awoken. He was aware. The beast’s red eyes filled with excitement, clearly realizing this, too, and it kicked out, sending Ripley halfway across the room. She fell against the wall, dropping her scythe, the plaster falling on her already ruined robe. “Mine, Reaper, mine.” The beast reached out with its clawed hand and scooped into Nick’s body, looking for the connection between the heart and the soul. Nick screamed. Ripley pulled herself up and grabbed the handle of her scythe. She knew that this was her only chance, whilst its attention was on Nick. She pushed forward and in one swift motion swung the scythe. It hit the beast directly on the neck, sending it reeling. It wanted the soul too badly though to give up and sliced out at her once more. The front of her robe ripped open, and Ripley felt the sting of the claw on her belly. Angered and tired beyond belief, she switched the scythe to her left hand and punched the beast right in the jaw. It staggered backwards, shock in its red eyes. She swung the scythe again, though with less force, and it caught it in arm, severing the limb. Ripley jumped back, the smell overpowering.

“Go now before I finish you,” she screamed, her raw throat protesting the action. “There are plenty of other souls for you to collect tonight. You’re not having this one.” It hissed at her, its gaze darting from the blooded scythe to Nick’s body. “Last chance, hell beast, or I swear to our God I will give you your final elimination.” Perhaps her words hit home? Perhaps it realized that there were more than enough other souls for it to claim? Either way with one final hiss, it picked up its limb, pulled its robe tight around itself, and slithered from the room. Swaying slightly, because she was twenty-odd hours into this shift and feeling the pain, Ripley turned around, her gaze finding Nick. His soul was still there, stuck in the body, writhing against and into the connection. “Nick,” she whispered, and he screamed again. Ripley dropped to her knees, right into the beast’s pooled gore, her heart pounding, her Reaper’s skin shivering. Yearning filled her, and she looked into Nick’s eyes. The ones she’d missed so damn much. They widened, and for one moment, Ripley thought it was because of her, and her entire being sang, but then she realized the robe was still in place, and understood the truth. He saw her for what she was. The Grim Reaper, come to collect his soul.

Chapter Eight Nick knew the scream was coming from his mouth, or at least he thought it was. Everything felt different though, as if he’d been squashed in some way, and there wasn’t enough room to move. More than that he couldn’t move. Whatever had happened to him had affected his limbs, and he was stuck. He’d watched, trapped, as the two…whatever the hell they were…things battled in front of him. One emanated darkness, whilst the other seemed to shine with a strange sort of flickering light. A memory stirred suggesting exactly what they might be, but disappeared again when he tried to catch it. It didn’t make sense. He remembered the numbness, the blurred vision, and the fever and wondered if it had affected his mind in some way. He closed his eyes, but not really, because they wouldn’t close. It was more that he wanted to and so blackness came and went in the space of a second. When he looked again, one of the things was bending over him. The scream left his mouth before he could stop it, and he was instantly ashamed. The thing reached out, as if to comfort him but pulled the robe-covered hand back. Nick was grateful for that, not wanting to feel whatever was underneath the cloth. “What’s happening?” he whispered. “Everything is okay,” the thing said and something clicked in Nick’s mind. The voice sounded almost…familiar? “Who are you?” he asked. But then the memory solidified, and he knew. The black robe. The scythe clenched in its hand. Fucking hell. Death. Panic shot through Nick, hand-in-hand with abject terror. He’d never expected this and didn’t know how to wrap his mind around it. Was it real? “What—” “I’ve come to take you,” Death said, and its voice became low and musical, almost soothing. Nick gulped, or at least he thought he did. “Where?” A pause for just a moment and then. “Above.”

“I’m dead?” As soon as the words left his mouth, they made sense. He’d died on the couch, hadn’t he? And now he was being collected. “Yes,” the musical voice said. “You are. Everything is going to be okay though. I’m taking you to a good place.” “That thing wanted to take me, too.” He remembered its red eyes and its cackle. He searched the face of the being in front of him but it was lowered. He couldn’t see the eyes, see if they were red, too—he thought they wouldn’t be though. “Where would it have taken me?” Death shook its head, keeping its gaze lowered. “Below.” Was the universe punishing him for the last five years? For doing nothing but wallowing in his own guilt and depression? Nick shuddered in an odd, unfamiliar sort of way. “Was I…bad?” Death tilted its head “What do you mean?” “It wanted to take me below? To Hell? Does that mean I was bad in someway?” “No. It doesn’t work like that. Not really.” Death gestured with its hands as if trying to find some way to explain. “When you die, your soul is left free for a little while. Stuck in the body anyone can come and claim it. It is simply a question of who gets here first. The good or the bad. You were put on the list to be collected, which means that you were deemed good enough in life to warrant taking above. Of course, that’s no guarantee that you end up there. It’s all down to who makes it to the soul first.” “You’re from the good side?” Nick asked, trying to wrap his head around this new reality. “I saw the strange light on you.” Death nodded. “Yes.” Katie. Her image came to him then, filling every corner of this new mind, and inexplicably a strange sort of relief filled him, banishing the terror and worry. This wasn’t the end, not even close. There was something after death, a way forward. Surely when Katie had died, the same thing would have happened? She would have been taken above as well. She was too lovely not to have been put on the list, and that meant she was still out there somewhere. It meant there was a chance for them to be together again, that this all made a horrible kind of sense.

He shuddered with longing. He would see her again! Hold her and touch her and do all the things he’d ached to do for so long. Katie, his wife, the woman he loved so damn much. “I need to take you right now,” Death said, interrupting his frantic thoughts. “There’s another waiting for me, and if I don’t get there on time she’ll end up below.” He was almost eager now to get things moving. He’d see Katie soon surely? Her beautiful hair and her dazzling eyes and he’d hold her, kiss her, and tell her how much he’d missed her. How she’d taken his heart with her when she left. A weird feeling, almost like excitement, vibrated inside of him, and he felt as though he nodded. “Do whatever you have to.” Death leant forward and reached into his body with a hand, right through him, and Nick felt as though something was being grasped. Something he’d never known existed before. At first it felt fine, just a little tickle, but then the hand clenched and pain the likes of which Nick had never known filled him. He screamed again, agony searing through his body, but not his body really, only the squashed part. The headaches of the last few years paled in comparison to the pain when Death pulled. He roared, blackness grabbed him, and then, before he could even consider what was happening, he was standing by the couch, looking down on what was once him. “Oh my God,” he breathed. “Not quite. Not yet at least.” He looked at the robed being stood next to him, gaze still lowered, shocked to find that it was a good foot smaller than him. Could this really be Death? “Who are you?” “Stand still.” Death swung the scythe, and he almost jumped but whatever it did was over in a flash and he felt different. Lighter somehow. Free. “What did you do?” he asked. “I severed you from your body. Now we can go.” Nick glanced down once more at what had been himself. It was only now that he noticed how much he’d let himself go over the last five years. After all what reason had he to look good? To work out or eat properly, or even bother buying new clothes? “That’s really me?” he whispered. “I look—” “You look just like you always did.”

Death took a step back, and as it did, Nick saw a flash of skin through the rip in the long, black robe. Tanned, soft skin. What the hell? He gaped and from the robed face to the skin and back again. How could Death have tanned skin? What was this being, and why did something feel…off? “You’re a person,” he said slowly. The skin, the voice… Death had to be a person, not a demon or anything. It was the only thing that made sense. “We’re all people. Just different people.” “But….” Nick semi-shuddered again and tried to order his thoughts. He was almost convinced that something was wrong, apart from being dead and all. What though? What was prodding him? You look just like you always did. “How do you even know what I looked like?” he asked. “Or look like, or you know what I mean. Do you guys have old pictures or something?” “We don’t have time for this,” Death said, turning. Nick shook his head, confused and out of sorts and just plain shocked, when he saw a color he thought he’d never get to see ever again. Everything clicked with a certainty he could not explain, and he inhaled sharply. Jesus Christ. “Wait,” he said. Death paused, hand clenching the scythe by its side. Nick reached out and placed a hand on its shoulder, excitement fizzing through him when it did not move. The rip in the back of the robe went from the very top right down to the waist, and he wanted to scream in exultation. Just one movement and golden strands fell through his fingers, strands he’d never thought he would feel again, falling like a waterfall of softness. He swallowed dryly and felt his new heart expand. “Katie?”

Chapter Nine Even through the robe, the feel of Nick’s fingers on her shoulder was like breathing fresh air again after a lifetime spent indoors. Katie Ripley stood stock-still and both cursed and thanked the Hell Reaper for slicing through the heavy material. “Katie?” he asked, and she shivered all over again at the sound of his voice. She’d missed him so much, for so long, the sound of his voice could easily be enough to undo her. “Katie, is that really you?” His voice was hesitant, enquiring, and her heart squeezed even as she blinked back tears. Never in all her fantasies over the last few days had she ever imagined this could possibly happen. That Nick would recognize her, would know her, that she would have the chance to talk to him again as her. Katie not Ripley. Nick’s wife, not Death come to collect his soul. Part of her wanted to stay in what was once their sitting room and turn to him, look into each other’s new eyes, hold each other’s hands, and rediscover one another. But she knew it wasn’t allowed, that there was no time. She had less than a minute to get to the next soul, and Nick wasn’t hers anymore. He had one destination in front of him, and it was one, thanks to her stupidity, that he would have to do alone. “We have to go,” she whispered. “But—” “There’s no time for this right now.” “But, Katie, it is you isn’t it?” Heart racing frantically, Ripley closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She so wanted to turn around and wrap him in her arms, soul skin to soul skin. Never had she wanted anything as much in her entire existence. Not even after her death when she’d begged for her old body back. But five years of responsibility weighted heavy on her shoulders, and mere miles away another soul was about to emerge. She had to be there for it. “I have to take you above now,” she said, hardening herself against the intense wave of longing that filled her. “Damn it, talk to me,” he said. He sounded just like he always had, and her breath caught, her head spun. “Please…Katie, if that’s you….”

His voice broke on the last word, and with it, Ripley’s resolve. Why deny it any longer? Against all the odds he knew, somehow he knew it was her, and it was unspeakably cruel to brush him aside. Ripley turned around slowly and pulled the robe back from her head. His eyes widened and a smile, magnificent in his brilliance, shot across his face. It turned all the little frown lines into laughter lines, and Ripley’s heart thumped desperately. “Katie,” he breathed. “I knew, as soon as soon as I saw your hair. I just knew.” “Nick—” “You came for me,” he continued. “To collect me. Oh God, Katie.” “No,” she whispered, because she did not like the way his thoughts were going, could not like them. “It’s not like that.” “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, maybe not even hearing her words. “So much, baby.” And then before Ripley could do anything, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in them so tightly she felt dizzy. “Katie, Katie, Katie,” he chanted, little kisses peppering over her head, her cheeks, her face. Her heart thudded, and she closed her eyes as tightly as possible, desperate to keep some semblance of control. Her Nick was kissing her, something she’d thought she’d never get to feel again. The soft touch of his lips, the feel of his breath. Dead they might be, their human bodies no more, but the sensations of the soul were just as intense. Just as real. A kiss on her cheek, so close to her lips and Ripley shivered. “Nick, you have to stop,” she whispered, though God had to know she wanted nothing more than to let Nick wrap her in his arms, take her lips, and kiss the last five years away. “I’ve missed you so much, Katie,” he said, pulling her into his arms even tighter—their soul bodies not even a hair’s breadth apart. “The last years without you have been their own kind of hell. I guess I should be upset that I’m dead shouldn’t I? Damn, I don’t even know how I died! But I’m not upset at all. I’m just so thankful. You’re here. You came for me. Everything is how it should be.” The words tumbled from his lips and dizziness hit her all over again. She pushed back against him until she could look into his eyes. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Nick.”

“We’re both dead now,” he said, again as if he hadn’t even heard her words. “But we’re both still here. Hell, it doesn’t even make sense but I don’t care. The main thing is that we can be together again. Just like we were always supposed to be.” Ripley shook her head about the same time her heart shook in her chest. “No, Nick. This isn’t me coming to collect you so we can be together again.” He pulled back, confusion writ plainly across his face. “I don’t understand.” “I came to collect you because this is my job now, and because of that job….” She paused, so not wanting to say the words she knew she had to say. “We can’t be together.” “What the hell do you mean we can’t be together?” he demanded. “I’ve waited so long, wanted you for so long. Do you have any idea how I’ve missed you? Longed for you? You took me with you when you went, Katie. You took everything.” She shivered, desire pushing through all the emotions and rippling over her skin. “I know. I’ve missed you too, Nick.” “Then why? Why say these things? I just don’t understand.” Ripley rested her head against his chest, hearing the beat of his soul’s heart quite plainly in her ear. How many nights had she lain on his chest listening to that very same sound? She’d once thought to do so for more than years than were even conceivable to her now. Finally, she took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to his. “Come,” she said, even though it was against the rules in so many ways. “I’ll show you why, and then you’ll understand.”

Chapter Ten Nick’s head was a whirl of confusion. Maybe because you’ve fucking died, a voice said but he shook the thought away. He didn’t think that was the reason. All he could think of was Katie. That she was here. Stood right next to him in her strange black robes. Her face as lovely as it had always been. Her magnificent hair falling over her shoulders like the very sun itself. And her eyes…the blue was as brilliant as he remembered—no wonder she’d kept her gaze lowered—and he wanted nothing more than to take her back into his arms and kiss away the worry he could see clouding them. She took his hand in hers and held tightly. “This is completely against the rules, Nick. I’ve never done it before. It won’t mess up your entry don’t worry. I have you now. The Hell Reapers can’t take you, but I might get disciplined for doing this. Just so you know.” Confusion swirled again, and he shook his head. “Katie, I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. You’re not making any sense.” “Look at me, Nick,” she whispered, and he did. “What do you see?” Heat radiated through him. “My Katie.” “Look closely,” she insisted. “Look at my robes, look at what I am holding in my hands.” He felt a jolt go through him. Of course, how could he have forgotten? The robe, the scythe, what he’d thought the moment he had seen it…her…Death. “Katie, you’re….” She nodded slowly. “Yes.” “But how? Why? I don’t understand.” She shrugged and glanced down at the scythe. “You will.” A moment later, they stood in a room Nick was all too familiar with, and he gulped in shock. One minute they were one place and now they were somewhere else with nothing to even indicate that they’d moved. Why it should surprise him, he didn’t know. He was dead after all, and his Katie was Death. Why should anything be shocking anymore? “What are we doing here,” he whispered. “Look around,” she whispered back. “It’s obvious.”

So he did and it was, because they were in the hospital. The relative’s room to be precise. An elderly man stood in front of them, and quite plainly, he could not see them at all. Nick felt a wave of memories overwhelm him. He’d stood in the exact same spot the elderly man was now standing at all those years ago. Pacing back and forth and up and down. No doubt, he’d had the same look on his face. Worry and terror and a million other things—each as horrific as the other. “He’s not what we came for,” Ripley said and ushered him towards the door. They seemed to float down the hallway. Their movements different to before, so that even though they walked, it was like walking on a cushion of air rather than the actual tiles of the floor. Nick couldn’t quite understand it, and he wanted to ask a million questions but Katie’s face was set in a hard mask, and as they approached a door with the letters ‘ICU’ on it, she pulled her hand from his and lifted her robe. “You must stay back,” she said. “Do nothing but observe.” A moment later and her face was hidden from him once again, her scythe held high, and Nick shivered. Death. Katie really was Death. He couldn’t quite get his head around the idea, or how it could possibly have happened, and he had no chance to really consider it further. The inside of the room was frantic with activity, capturing his attention. Doctors ran around the bed, nurses handing them implements, and the steady beep, beep, beep of the life machine was audible above it all. On the bed lay a grey-haired woman. She had to be in her eighties at least and looked so frail. “It’s time,” she groaned. “It’s time. Just make sure Edward is okay, make sure he takes his pills. It’s not his time.” “No it isn’t,” Ripley whispered. “He’s not on the list.” “Then….” “Yes.” Ripley sighed. “She is.” Nick was horrified and made to move forward. The desperate man in the waiting room crossed his mind, and he halted his movement, turning instead to Katie. “But she’s…he’s…can’t you do something?” “I’m here to do what I have to,” she said. “That’s the point. It’s all I can do. Now wait. Do not interfere.”

She pushed him back towards a corner of the room, trailing her fingers along his arm as she did so. Nick’s heart leapt even as the situation bore down on him, and his brain worked in overtime, trying to understand. Katie moved through the doctors, almost as if they were not even there, though they did not see her. Did not even notice her amongst them. The beeps of the machine were increasing in pace, nothing more than a pause between them. The elderly woman’s heart was reaching a crescendo. Nick gulped when he imagined what that meant. “It’s time.” She groaned again and pulled back onto herself, stretching her arms out. The machine gave one final beep and then as he knew it must it stopped. Flatline. And the woman’s mouth made a small “oh,” before going slack. Nick knew she was dead. The doctors fussed around, pushing against her chest, encouraging, and fighting, but it was pointless. It had to be, didn’t it? Otherwise, Katie would not be here. Everything seemed to slow, the movements of the people in the room, the sound of the flat-lined machine, everything but Katie. Then the woman’s screams pierced through it all, through him and no doubt through her, and Nick stepped forward. His ears ringing. Where once there had been a normal woman there lay something else entirely. She, it, whatever, was on top of the other woman but then in her, too, and her brightness overwhelmed the body that had been there before. Nick rubbed his face trying to understand it and knew that it was the woman’s soul. Just like he had been his. The woman screamed again and opened her eyes. They latched onto Katie and widened. “You’re here,” she whispered. “Here for me.” Katie spoke in the same musical voice she’d used with him a little while ago. “Yes I am. But it’s okay. Everything is okay now.” “My husband?” the woman questioned. “Is fine,” Katie sang. “He will be fine for now, but you are to come with me.” “Come where?” “You know where,” Katie said. “You’ve always known.” The woman nodded and smiled and reached out a hand. Katie took it in her own.

“I knew you’d come,” she said. “I knew it. I waited, and I knew.” “It will hurt at first,” Katie said. “Just hold tight and it’ll be over before you know it, okay?” And then Katie did the strangest thing. She reached into the woman and pulled. Screams filled the air, echoing around them, and though the doctors and the nurses did not seem to notice a thing Katie did. He watched her as she worked on the woman and in no time at all, something gave and the elderly woman was standing next to Katie, her arms seeking Katie’s for support. In that moment, Nick understood exactly what his wife had meant. This was what Katie did. She collected the souls of the dead, comforted them, reassured them, and took them wherever they had to go. This was her now. She wasn’t waiting on the other side for him. She’d been right here all along, doing what she was meant to do. There would be no together for them above, wherever or whatever the hell that was. How could there be when Katie had her job to do? And as Nick sucked in the thought and imagined the possibilities it all crystallized and he knew then, exactly what he had to do. It came to him as if truth, as if he’d known from the very minute he’d ran his fingers through her golden hair. If Katie could not come with him then surely he would have to stay with her.

Chapter Eleven The dead woman’s soul reached out, and Ripley helped her to steady herself before pulling her away from her old body. It was never a good idea to let them linger, although this woman at least seemed pleased, eager enough even to get moving. “Wait here,” Ripley said, once they were a distance away, and then she swung the scythe, severing the soul from the body. The woman shuddered and smiled. “Thank you.” Ripley smiled back, even though the woman couldn’t see it and moved her away until they reached Nick. Her heart clenched when she saw him, waiting alone, his face a mask of different emotions, chief amongst them what looked like panic. She swallowed and tried to pull her emotions together. Of course, he would be panicking. He’d just seen her do something that anyone would be scared of. Hell it scared her still, and she’d done it more times than she could even begin to count. “I have to take you both above now,” Ripley said, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. “Katie, you can’t,” Nick said. “I won’t let you take me.” She swallowed down a lump and shook her head. “There is no choice, Nick. Don’t you see?” “I see plenty,” he said. “More than you maybe.” Ripley took his hand and pulled the elderly woman to her. Whether Nick wanted to go or not was irrelevant. There was no fucking choice! There was never a choice. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. In a flash, the three of them moved from the hospital room to the place where all souls went at first. The place Ripley took them, one after the other. Lucia called it the field of souls, and that was a good a term as any in Ripley’s opinion. It was beautiful, of course. How could it be anything else? The green of the grass seemed to go on forever, the daisies and the buttercups picking up the surrounding light and throwing it back out in showers of sparkles. A perfect stillness surrounded them, the very air beating with a sort of intense peacefulness. As she always did, Ripley sucked it all in, pulling as much of the perfection into her as she could.

“They’ll come for you here soon,” she whispered. “Then they’ll take you to the gates where you’ll move on to the next place.” “It is so beautiful here,” the elderly woman said. She turned to Nick and smiled. “Why wouldn’t you want to come here?” Nick shook his head. “Because Katie is my wife.” “Katie?” the woman asked. Nick gestured in her direction, and the woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, good grief.” “Take me back,” he said, ignoring the woman’s enquiring gaze and shocked words. “Back down there or back to where you are. Wherever. I don’t care so long as we’re together.” “I can’t.” Saying those words to him was one of the hardest things Katie had ever done, and she shuddered inside. Why did he have to make it so difficult for her? Couldn’t he see how hard this was? How much it pained her? More than anything, she regretted signing up to Reaperdom, but she’d been so confused, hurting so much. She’d thought that Nick would live a long happy life, and what else did that leave for her? What else could possibly fill the long hours and the many days, and the constant years? “This is my life now,” she told him, her heart breaking to say the words. “I signed up for this. I agreed. A century of collecting the souls of the dead. I signed the contract, and I’m not allowed back here, properly here I mean, until those years are over.” “You signed up?” he breathed. “Yes.” “With who? How? I don’t understand.” “With the person who runs the Reaper teams of course.” “I see….” “This is what I have to do, Nick. For the next ninety-five years at least this is my life.” She paused, unsure if it was even fair to say the next words, but knowing she would anyway. “It’s wrong to ask. I know it is. But if you could wait for me….” Nick smiled, that brilliant smile, lighting his face up all over again, and Ripley’s heart thudded. Ninety-five years was not that long, was it? If Nick would hold on for her one day they could be together again…. “There’s no need for that,” he said, interrupting her frantic, desperate thoughts. “No one has to wait for anyone, because there is no way we’re going to be apart ever again, Katie. No bloody way.”

And he lifted his head, looked around the field of souls and smiled. “I’m signing up, too.”

Chapter Twelve Like when they moved from the hospital room to the field of souls, it took but a second. One moment he was breathing in the smell of cut grass and flowers and the next, he was in a small room that smelled faintly of lavender. As soon as he looked around, Nick knew whose room it was. Katie’s, of course. It was an exact replica of their bedroom back on Earth. The flowered cushions decorating the bed and the crotched rugs spread across the floor. All of it achingly familiar. She gasped as she, too, looked around. “How….” Nick laughed, his heart fairly racing with the knowledge of what it all meant. Knowledge that seemed to come out of nowhere, but seemed so obvious and real that he knew it was true. Almost like a voice whispering in his ear. A feeling of extreme gratefulness filled him from top to toe, and he sent out a silent thank you to whoever had made it possible. “I’m guessing that was an acceptance of my signing up.” “But, Nick….” She paused and shook her head. “It’s a horrible job. Just horrible, and dangerous, too. Collecting the souls of the dead is probably the most difficult thing you will ever do. I’d never have wanted this for you, never. I wish I’d never signed up! If only I’d known!” He pulled her into his arms. Exulting at the feel of her soft flesh next to his. The thought crossed his mind that maybe it wasn’t even flesh anymore, was something else entirely. But he didn’t care. Katie was here with him. She was still her, and nothing else mattered. “No,” he whispered, because it broke his heart to hear her say such things. None of this was her fault, and how could either of them ever rally against something that, in the end, brought them back together again? That was all that mattered in the end surely. The two of them, having each other again, being in love again—always. “The hardest thing has been living these past years without you,” he said. “Feeling little bits of myself slip away with each day. Knowing you had my heart with you and that there was no way to ever get it back until we met again. I dreamed of it, Katie. Every single night I dreamed of you. Wanting you and needing you, and every few days I brought you out to think about. Imagining and considering and though it broke my heart, I knew I’d do it for the rest of my life, because

without you, even just the thought of you, nothing meant anything anymore.” Tears spilled down her eyes, and Katie gasped. “It’s been so hard for me, too, Nick. So hard and I wished and hoped, but I never imagined….” Nick reached up to brush the tears away. “I love you, baby. Always have. Always will. I’d sign up for a million years of this just for a few seconds with you.” And then he did what he’d wanted to do for so damn long. He leant down and finally, finally, took her lips in his. Their kiss was fast and frantic, soft and soothing, and it sent fire racing through this new body of his. Every sensation seemed magnified, as if it was a million times more than it should have been. He could taste something on her lips, something magical. Feel her soft breath mixing with his, the very essence of their souls combining and he shuddered. Shocked and amazed by the wonder of it all. Katie responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Her touch was nearly enough to undo him, and they became tangled in one another. Lips to lips, bodies to bodies and simultaneously they began to slither out of their clothes. Katie’s ripped robes hit the floor with a thud. Nick’s clothing, the very items he’d died in, followed and before long they were falling back onto the bed, completely consumed with one another. “I’m going to love you in every way I can,” Nick said. “To celebrate this. That we’re together again.” “Yes,” she whispered. “Love me, Nick. Love me, just as I love you.” And with those words, Nick’s heart seemed to magically repair. Like the pieces of a jigsaw, they pulled themselves back into place so that the picture was complete all over again. Katie had taken it with her, and now she gave it back. He wouldn’t keep it for long though. How could he? Why would he want to? It was, and always had been, always hers.

Chapter Thirteen When Nick lowered his head to kiss her breast, Ripley felt like she might die all over again. His mouth fastened itself around one nipple, licking and laving, tugging and pulling, and she arched her back to him. Desperate for the sensations to continue. It was like nothing she’d ever known, and she couldn’t work out whether it was because it had been so long, or because this was her soul now not her body and of course sensations would be different. More intense maybe. “Yes…” she whispered, encouraging him. “Yes, Nick.” His tongue stiffened her nipple until she thought it might explode, and a delicious ache spread right from it all the way down her body, winding and spiraling right to her core. To her wet heat, the place where she needed to feel him. The place where she’d missed him so fucking much. She reached down between them, unable to wait another moment, and gripped his shaft. It was hard beneath her fingers, feeling as always like steel encased in silk. Hard and pulsing and her hot pussy clenched as she imagined it inside her. Filling her up, stroking her walls, making her scream—something she never thought she’d do again. “I need you inside me, Nick. I need to feel you stretching me again,” she said. “Please.” He settled between her thighs, and she pulled her hand away, wanting nothing to halt the contact between them. His skin to her skin. His cock to her cunt. The two bound together as they should be. “Fuck me,” she begged. “Please, Nick.” Nick continued to consume her breast and then the other, moving between them. Tasting and teasing and Ripley groaned as both turned into little bullets. “Please….” He kissed around the areola, before licking his way down her stomach, twirling his tongue into the belly button, and she giggled. She couldn’t help it. “This is where you want it,” he said, dipping a finger into her pussy, gathering the juices before spreading them around her aching clit. His thumb pressed down on it, rubbing in little circles, stoking the pleasure until it gathered, circled, and extended from her clit, to her fingers, all the way to her toes.

“Yes,” she gasped. “I need it now, Nick please give it to me.” He lifted himself up and entered her in one quick thrust. Ripley gasped and clutched her hands around his shoulders. Digging her nails into the soul flesh, urging him on. “More,” she said. “Give me more.” “There’s always more,” he said. “They’ll always be more. I’ll never let it be any other way. Not ever again.” He pulled out, a slow movement, before thrusting back in, slow again. She felt his hardness against her heat and quivered beneath him. “Yes….” Another thrust and then another. Their movements increasing. Both of them urging each other on. The barriers broke away all together, whatever had lingered, the hesitation, the tentative moments of that first meeting where neither could quite believe it nor accept it and none of that mattered anymore. None of it even meant anything. They fucked each other fast, frantic desperate. Each of them pulling for the pleasure, each of them desperate to make the other feel what they’d missed for so damn long. Ripley’s pussy contracted and clenched. Drawing Nick in, her walls encouraging him to give her what she wanted. “Oh God….” he groaned. “Katie….” She arched her hips, wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled his lips hers. Their tongues met, chasing one and then the other back and forth. Dancing and playing in tandem with the movements of their bodies. A tongue in, a cock in, a tongue out, a cock out. Over and over and then everything crystallized—everything hit in one amazing explosion. The orgasm was beyond anything she could ever have expected. It flashed through her body like a wave of fire. Searing her spine, scorching her fingertips, and nothing mattered in that moment. Nothing could have stopped it. Only her and Nick. Only this and them. She screamed, and he screamed and the feel of his orgasm extended her own so that they both cried out in one. Pleasure gathering between them and wrapping them both up. A perfect moment—nothing could have made it more so.

Moments passed, and they let out shaky breaths, both trying to get a hold on what had happened. “Nick,” Ripley breathed. “Oh God, Nick.” “I love you, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, his words so full of meaning. “I love you,” she replied. Her heart feeling like it, too, might explode. “Always have, always will.”

Epilogue “Coffee?” Lucia asked. “It’s almost as good as the stuff down there. Though not quite. They can’t quite work it. Though you think they could huh? After all the boss made everything so you’d think….” Nick looked down at the gunky liquid and smiled. He couldn’t frown. He doubted he ever would again. After all, he had Katie. Katie in his arms and Katie in his bed and he loved her so damn much. Even the reaping wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it might be. They had an actual office and computers and filing systems. It was like something that would be found on Earth, and Katie had laughed when he’d gaped at it all. The boss made everything. Why would you think this stuff wouldn’t be up here? In fact they had some stuff he was damn certain had never been seen below, and it was unbelievable. After two months, he was still taking it all in but there was never any doubt in his mind that he’d made the right decision. No doubt at all. “I’ll pass I think,” he said. “Wait till Katie’s back.” Lucia laughed. “I so cannot think of her as Katie. She’s Ripley for crikes sake.” “She’ll always be Katie to me.” “Well, she’s gonna be pissed when she does get back. She hates collecting the babies. It hurts her.” Nick sighed. Collecting the souls of those tiny beings wasn’t his most favorite activity either but it was better than the alternative, and he sort of thought now that he and Katie were doing this together they made it a little bit easier for each other. “I’ll look after her.” “I’m sure you will.” Lucia shot a smile in his direction, swigged down the coffee, and grabbed her robe. “Got my own shift to start, mostly oldies, so I’ll see you tomorrow I guess.” “Yep. You can count on that. We’ve got another ninety-five years of this.” “Bring it.” It was over two hours later when Ripley arrived back, he’d spent the intervening time trying to work out the elaborate filing system she and Lucia had constructed. He stood when she entered the room, smiling widely at her. “Hey, baby.”

Her robe was askew and her hair, her wonderful hair, was damp. She looked so fucking beautiful. “That was horrible,” she muttered. “God damn teenagers.” He pulled her into his now hardened arms, because over those two months, his form had returned to the way it had been when they’d been together—all muscle and sinew. Katie had shrugged and explained that it always reverted to the time when you were most happy with it, and of course, he’d been most happy when they were together. She told him she missed the paunch. He planted a kiss on her scowling lips and rubbed her hair back. “I haven’t had one yet, not looking forward to it I gotta say.” “They’re breaking you in gently, baby. Giving you the easy ones. It won’t last long believe me. You’ll realize soon enough.” “I know,” he said. Because he did. It wasn’t always going to be easy he totally got that, but as always it was better than the alternative. “I’ll take it on the chin.” She pulled off her robe and hung it on the hook behind the door, next to his. Her scythe, too, joined his propped up next to the desk. “Because of me,” she said. She still wasn’t over the guilt, he knew that. Blamed herself for putting them in this position, but Nick was happy. Happier than he’d been in so long. Nothing could spoil that. “Yes,” he said. “Because you came for me and brought me here, and I love you so much.” She smiled, a small smile but one all the same, and he ran a finger down the sweep of her cheek. A limpid look filled her eyes, and he saw her shiver. “I love you, too.” “Always?” She nodded slowly, the smile lingering. “Death couldn’t keep us apart, Nick. Not in the end. You know it is always.” And he did, and he pulled her to him and he kissed her. The years stretching before them, these two, the Reapers of Death. The End

www.emmashortt.co.uk Other Books by Emma Shortt:

'Twas a Dark and Delicious Christmas The Valentine's Fae The Kiss Paying Her Debt Getting Her Greek Midnight Seduction Pleasing the Boss

Evernight Publishing www.evernightpublishing.com