Kate Evangelista - Reaping Me Softly

The Reaper of Texas shrugged—all coiled muscle and raw sexuality in the movement of his broad shoulders. “That’s just it, darlin’. Steady as she goes in the Lone Star state. Heart disease is still the number one killer. If you’re aiming for larger numbers in one go, get back to me during hurricane season. I might have something for you then. Maybe.”

“Well, I have something.” Janika’s lips resembled a Venus flytrap when she smiled. “A serial killer is running around in upstate New York. He’s killed ten already and doesn’t seem to be close to getting caught.”

“It astounds me why you take so much pleasure in murder, Janika,” Tomas said.

Several other Reapers down the table bobbled in agreement, deferring to the oldest and most powerful of them. Since Tomas held California, he had more souls to handle than the rest—the bigger the territory, the higher the population’s mortality rate—hence the greater amount of residual energy he gained.

Death let the argument play out while he contemplated the powers of his Reapers. When they’d been created, he gave them the ability to take energy from the souls they reaped. This way, he didn’t have to feed them energy. Of course, the system could take its toll on a Reaper. If one of them didn’t use the residual energy accumulated, an overload could occur. Forgetting to take in energy activated the Fade—Death’s fail safe system. It prevented Reapers who held large populations from overpowering their master. Not that anyone could.

“You like nothing but attention, don’t you, Janika?” Nikolas challenged.

What do we have here? Death eyed Nikolas like a present he hadn’t expected to arrive.

Janika relocated her jaw and said, “Well, the serious one finally speaks up. You look terrible, by the way.”

“Not as horrible as that outfit you call appropriate for this meeting. What are you? An eighties pop star?”

“Uh!” Janika’s long-nailed fingers crumpled into a fist. An abyss consumed her eyes, a yellow slit opening at the center. Her blond curls trembled. A deadly grimace formed on her youthful visage, betraying her true age. A gust had the women shrieking their displeasure at having their hairdos ruined. Energy crackled, charging the air in the room with static. “When did you become so chatty, Nikolas?”

“Things change, Janika .” Nikolas leaned forward and faced the Reaper of New York, an insolent grin his answer to her show of power.

“Let it go, Janika,” Death interjected, his lifted hand covered by the voluminous bell sleeve of his robes.

“He insulted me, Master.” Janika pouted.

“Your behavior is insulting to this gathering,” Tomas chided, the chill of a grave in his tone. “It is because you are ranked third that you must set an example for the others. Letting the Reaper of Georgia bait you is unbecoming.” He looked away from the cowed youngster and addressed the head of the table. “Master, shall we proceed with this meeting?”

Death tilted his head in assent. “I will see you later, Janika.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, her eyes returning to normal.

Seated behind his desk, Death prepared himself for the conversations to come. The meeting had run on like a marathon. Fifty-two states felt like a million. Eternity gave itself a new meaning, and all because of Janika. The Reaper of New York wouldn’t shut her mouth, salivating for another confrontation. Even the saintly Tomas snapped at her.

A whisp—the soul of an unborn child—passed through the door and floated toward him. “Master,” it squeaked. “The Reapers of New York and Georgia are both awaiting your indulgence.”

Death stifled the urge to knead his forehead by dropping his cowl. “You may let Nikolas in, Nim,” he said.

The whisp froze, mesmerized by his beauty.

“Nim!”

It hopped then trembled. “Yes, Master.” It bobbed to the door.

A breath later, Nikolas entered, his gaze cast to the ground. He executed a practiced bow any performer would envy.

“You wished to see me, Master?” he asked after he straightened. His handsomeness lacked its usual fire. Only an ashen pallor remained.

“Would you care to take a seat, Nikolas?”

A chair made of bones materialized in a puff of smoke upon Death’s request.

“Have I displeased you in some way, Master?”

“Please, my dear boy, sit down.”

“Master, I don’t—”

“Sit down!” Death’s voice boomed like Jupiter’s thunderstorms.

Nikolas fell into the chair, his head hung limp for the noose. He inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly. Then he lifted his head and waited.

Disgust embraced Death. No Reaper should be so weak.

“Is something the matter, Master?”

“I’m curious, why did you antagonize Janika earlier? It is most unlike you.”

Nikolas shrugged one shoulder. “She had it coming. I can’t stand her. I never could.”

“And yet you risk making an enemy of her. Cockiness can get you punished.”

“It has nothing to do with being cocky, Master. She means nothing to me.”

“Remember your rank, Reaper.”

“I do, Master. I do.”

A strangled silence passed before Death asked, “How are your duties?”

Nikolas’ brow puckered. “A massive pile up—”

Death forestalled any other explanations with a raised hand. “I didn’t mean for you to repeat your report from the meeting earlier. I already know of that.”

“I fail to understand—”

“What I don’t understand, Nikolas , is your utter disregard for your work,” Death cut in.

“I have never been remiss with my duties, Master. I follow protocol and blend into society, do I not?”

“Yes.”

“And I enforce the Death Certificates in a timely manner?”

“Certainly.”

“And don’t I escort the souls here for processing?”

Death nodded once.

“Then, pardon me, Master , for being confused as to why I am sitting here with you, when I need to return to those duties.”

“Then explain to me why you haven’t replenished yourself with residual energy?” Death tented his fingers. “Do you have a death wish, my child?”

Nikolas leaned forward until his elbows touched his knees and covered his face with his hands. He said nothing for the longest second recorded in history. When he sat up, his features showed only a fraction of the fatigue he’d brought with him. “I must admit to being remiss, Master,” he said in even tones. “I’ve had a lot on my mind of late.”

“What keeps you up at night?” Death pressed.

“Perhaps…” Nikolas paused. “I have lived a long time. I have seen countless sunsets.” His gaze seemed so far away. “I question my purpose, Master.”

“Your purpose?”

“Forgive me. It is not my intention to confuse. Even I find it difficult to understand what I am going through. A crossroads, if you will. But I believe I can find my way again.”

Death took a moment to assess the situation. If Nikolas couldn’t find a way out of the mire of ennui he currently swam in, he’d continue the Fade, and Georgia would need a new Reaper. As much as possible, Death didn’t want that. He’d resort to cruelty if he had to. But if Nikolas found his way out, he’d find himself transformed.

Intrigued by the possibilities, Death said, “Tomas went through your predicament some centuries back. Do you remember?”

Dismay made friends with Nikolas’s fatigue. “He was a pain to live with then.”

“Yes, and look at him now. He went from the Reaper of Wyoming, ranked fiftieth, to the first with California.” Death recalled those growing pains for Tomas. It had been during a different time. “Would you want to speak with him about his experience to gain some clarity?”