Emily woke up feeling an undeniably strange and deep sense of dread. It was like a cold and muddy hand had gripped onto her lungs and squeezed hard. She found it hard to breathe. She shivered badly. She had no idea what caused the bad feeling in her chest. It came from nowhere, as if it leapt out from the shadows and bit down on her shoulder to suck the life from her…

  She felt a softer hand on hers. She looked to see Donn opposite her, his hand on her hand, with concern on his face. “All right? You were tossing and murmuring.”

  Emily shook her head and brushed off Donn’s hand. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Thanks.”

  Donn watched her. The veiled concern on his face was for a good reason.

  For he knew that Fredrick, Emily’s father, was now dead.

  While Emily had slept in her chair, Donn had returned to his book to scan through his next subjects to reap upon his return. He had gone through the first two hundred souls to be found. And as he had turned the next page to scan the next twenty, he paused when he saw Emily’s father.

  Everything was in order. It was no mistake. He had died in London. On the very same night Emily had left, only a few hours after he ran from them.

  Donn glanced at the sleeping girl opposite him. It was a shame that she had parted with him on bitter terms. And now she would never get that chance to reconcile with him. That was gone forever.

  He made a deep sigh and exhaled it slowly. How was he going to tell her this? Should he tell her? What would that do, except only hurt her? What purpose would it serve them now?

  In the book, the image of Fredrick and his details were quickly crossed off by a black line that drew itself across the words.

  It seemed that his colleague had remained in the living world and was making the last rounds herself. Donn nodded and he slowly closed the book. He placed it in his bag, next to his filled cigarette case and his glasses.

  It is strange that he died as soon as we left… I wonder what happened… No matter. Dwelling on it would not serve me best now. A better time will arrive to understand this… and to tell her. Donn reasoned to himself. But now is not that time.

  “Alright.” Donn, unruffled by her brusque reaction, settled back into his seat and relaxed. His legs were crossed and he was humming another tune from his homeland.

  He knew he had to choose another time, a better time. Until then, he decided to play dumb and to cross that bridge when he had to.

  There was another reason for his concern and that was the lack of a death date upon Emily’s head. Her father had it. Everyone he had come across that night and all the days before had theirs. It was plain to see; set and calculated to occur as exactly the right time without delay.

  The station worker Kyle had his death date, but his was murky and undecided. And now it turned out that Kyle’s fate was to die that night. That same night that Fredrick had died.

  Every living creature Donn saw in his existence had a death that was coming, no matter the cause. So imagine his discomfort and surprise when Emily’s death date, and that of Fredrick and Fry as well, did not appear. At all.

  This girl… he mused. She is drawn to this place. As I am drawn to her… Why? Why is her death not set in stone? Nor the others around her? I must have answers. Death shall provide them, I am sure of it. Death sent me to Homerton to meet her. Death must know. Death will tell me.

  Emily resumed playing her music as she looked out of the window to see the view. She was quite surprised that her music still worked, even in this place. The music of The Cranberries helped ease her tension, namely the thumping drum of the song Dreams. But apart from that, it was like any train ride she had been one. Long, slow and quiet.

  It was as it had been for the last hour since they left the station. A dark night with dark fields in a dark England. The sight outside matched her mood.

  Donn had told her nothing of where they were going or what they would do when they would eventually arrive. She was annoyed that she had nothing to go on. No angle to work with or to control. In London, she had bullied her way onto Donn’s train. But that was all she could do. She was in his world now and she had to force herself to go with the flow and wait for the Irishman to open up. But she hated waiting too.

  As you can see, Emily was not a patient girl. So to pass the time, she looked around the carriage for the twelfth time.

  It was certainly Victorian in design. Gaslights, made from green Chinese jade and pearl glass, lined the walls and gave off an ethereal turquoise light from the blue flames. The floor of the carriage was carpeted with a purple wool rug material, with floral patterns decorating various parts of it. The velvet seats, red and black tartan in design, were soft and comfortable. This allowed Emily to sleep. The tables that were placed in-between the seats were of black mahogany, polished within an inch of their lives.

  Emily opened up her fourth bags of crisps and crunched the dry sheets of food against the roof of her mouth with her tongue. The feeling of that action relaxed her. She enjoyed doing simple things like that.

  She thought about her uneasy feeling that disturbed her sleep. Where had that come from? She wondered if it was guilt. From leaving her father? No. She had no regrets over that.

  But she did have friends. Sarah, Victor and Jake. They all lived in and around the estate that loomed over her house and they would all go skate, mess about and loiter around parts of London to drink, laugh or antagonise anyone who looked at them the wrong way.

  But Emily knew that way of life would end when they grew up. Sarah was going for a university degree in English Literature with the interest of becoming a journalist.

  Jake was permanently moving out of London to live and work with his uncle in Leeds.

  And Victor… poor Victor. He had gotten mixed up in petty crime. She lost contact with him last week and she had to assume the worst.

  It was as if life wanted to drive them apart. Emily didn’t hold it against the others for having their own choices to live their lives. She just wished she could come with them.

  And, if she was being brutally honest, they weren’t her best friends. They were not the type of friends who’d throw themselves onto a train track for her if they were asked to. They were just normal friends who wanted to have a laugh… just people you would leave at the wayside as you journeyed into an adult life. Emily felt that described her most of all. She certainly wouldn’t risk her life for her friends, she knew that. She mattered to herself the most.

  She had to choose to escape from the life she was born into. By escaping into a world of death. she thought morbidly.

  Donn provided the opportunity, whether he meant to or not. So Emily took it and did not look back.

  Maybe the bad feeling was from that. Guilt. Guilty that she had abandoned her friends before they could abandon her… Emily shook her head. It was the only choice she could make. So she had to suck it up and not look back.

  She sighed and took out one of her earphones so that she could listen to her music and talk to her quiet companion at the same time. “How long is this train going to take to get us to wherever the hell we’re going to?”

  Donn was watching the scenery outside. “It will get there…when it gets there.”

  Emily’s eyelid twitched angrily. She didn’t appreciate Donn’s irritating tautology. “Donn. We’ve been stuck in here for hours-”

  One thin finger lifted up at her. “One hour, Emily.”

  “One hour, two hours, four hundred hours, it doesn't matter! Tell me something, Donn! Anything! I’m sick of being kept in the bloody dark while being in the actual dark!”

  Donn sighed through his nose and eyed Emily with his sharp eyes. It looked his patience was also running thin.

  “You know, you’re not even supposed to be on this train.” he snapped. “So I do not have to tell you anything as far as I am concerned. Consider yourself lucky that I haven't ejected you from the train mid-journey.”

  “Go on then, try and eject me. See what happens!”

  The pair stared eachother down.

  Then Donn snorted a laugh and shook his head with a smile. “Bloody hell, Emily. You’re proving to be a real handful. Ok. Fine. You win, so listen up. We are going to visit Death.”

  Emily paused her music instantly and raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Oh shit.”

  “Indeed.”

  Emily pushed her hair back and then rubbed the back of her neck. “Right. Uh, so. Oh bloody hell.” She laughed. “I’m kind of freaking out a bit.”

  “Then calm down.”

  “I’m trying. I- Seriously? We’re going to meet- Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  She gave Donn her full attention. “Alright. Alright, alright, alright… So… What’s Death like?”

  Donn cocked his head at her. “What?”

  “What type of woman is she?”

  “OK. First things first, Emily. Death is not a woman. Nor a man. Nor a child. Death is Death. Do not make the mistake of assuming Death’s personality through a perceived gender or an age that you choose. Death is an Elemental. Death is power. Death is finality.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, yes. When we meet Death, you will show due reverence. Do not call Death ‘chum’ or ‘boss’ or ‘mate’. Death can snatch away your soul within a blink of an eye. It is wholly easy to do so. Therefore your type of disrespect, that you so graciously reserve only for me, is highly ill-advised. Speak only when you are spoken to and that is all. Then maybe, I can get you back home with your soul intact.”

  “Alright. Don’t piss Death off. I can manage that.”

  “I’m being serious, Emily. This is not a laughing matter.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Donn rolled his eyes. “You’re damned hopeless.”

  A flash of white from the window snatched Emily’s attention. “What the-?”

  She looked out to no longer see England and the night sky. But a burning white light that engulfed the train. Emily had to shield her eyes from the sheer brightness of the light.

  Then a pitch black swallowed the light, plunging the carriage in shadows.

  Within the train, Emily could only see the gaslights with their flickering flames.

  Outside in the pitch black, Emily saw far more.

  She saw stars flying past the carriage at the speed of falcons. They burned bright and exploded in phantasmagorical colours upon contact with the hundreds of meteors and pieces of dead planets that floated idly in the vastness of… Emily gaped. They were in outer space.

  Asteroids whipped past the window. Millions of stars dotted the blackness. Galaxies of myriad colours painted the stretch of the cosmos.

  And without warning, red lightning suddenly thrusted through the dark and struck at the carriage. The carriage shuddered upon the multitude of hits as the red space storm smacked the train around. Punches with the force of wrecking balls slammed into every part of the outside. The noise was deafening and the force was powerful, but the carriage remained true and firm. It was built well.

  Emily gripped onto her seat, as did Donn.

  But while Emily was tightlipped with fear, Donn was smiling. “This is my favourite part.” he grinned and pointed at the window. He secured himself into his seat with a buckled strap.

  Emily looked back at the window and paled in fear.

  A gigantic lightning bolt, bright crimson and jagged like brambles, surged from the darkness and came right for the carriage. It was coming for them. Fast.

  “HOLY SHIT!” Emily managed to yell as the lightning reached them. It slammed hard into the carriage with the force of a fifty foot tsunami travelling at a thousand miles per hour.

  The sheer force of the blow rattled the resilient windows in their place and threw Emily off her seat, sending her into the seats on the other side of the carriage. Her bag and all her contents were cast from her grip and were sent careening down to the end of the carriage.

  Crisp packets battered the walls. Drinks bounced on the floor. Money fettered the air. Her iPod hit Emily in the eye, she cursed wildly and swatted it away. The shaking of the carriage was so bad, so violent and unrestrained, Emily thought the carriage was going to roll over itself.

  And, to Emily’s horror, it really did.

  The train flipped upside down as it landed upon new tracks and continued its barrelling path through the storm upside down.

  Emily felt weightless, levitating in the air for just a second, only to slam hard onto the ceiling thanks to the rules of gravity that applied only within the carriage. There she lay like a lame, dazed rabbit. She looked up to see Donn hanging above her, safely rooted to his seat with a fastened seatbelt.

  Donn was still smiling and even laughing. Emily was just screaming.

  Another blow from another lightning bolt that had the same vendetta against the vehicle as its first sibling smacked the train around. The second blow restored its equilibrium, letting the carriage land upon new tracks the right way up.

  Emily was thrown up and then back down towards Donn. She landed back in her seat and frantically buckled herself in.

  The train rocked and roll hard over the railings that seemed to rise and fall with alarming irregularity. Emily pictured a bartender violently shaking his cocktail mixer. She was the assaulted ice inside the shaker.

  A noise, the sound of howling winds made into wailing voices, roared over the din of the storm and engulfed the train. Emily closed her eyes and covered her ears. She just wanted the madness to stop. And it did.

  The train braked suddenly, making Emily lurch forth in her seat and cutting her belly into her seatbelt. She retched with the motion of it and just sat there, nauseated and terrified. Her eyes were still closed.

  “Is it over? Please tell me it’s over. I want it to be over. I’m not moving a fucking inch until it is over.”

  She felt Donn’s finger tapping her forehead. She opened her eyes to see him grinning at her displeasure.

  “It is. We’re here.” He pointed to the window. Emily turned and stared in sheer wonder.

  It was a sea, with small waves flipping the surface. Stretching boundless and without any sight of land, Emily could see the curvature of the new world that they were in. The sea was a dark purple. The sky which overlooked the sea was bright yellow. There was no sun, yet there was plenty of sunlight.

  She blinked, gaped, then frantically freed herself from her belt and dashed to the carriage doors. Donn patiently undid his belt in good time, being in no need of rushing. When he stood up, he scanned at the mess Emily’s belongings had made. He tisked and then began to pack them all into her rucksack.

  Emily pushed the doors open and suddenly stepped onto hard concrete.

  She stopped and the first thing to hit her was the acrid smell in the air. It stung her nostrils. It reminded her of broken toasters with too much breadcrumbs jammed around the heating wires. It also reminded her of an abandoned bouquet of lilies once tied to the streetlamp by her house. A stabbing had occurred there.

  The air weighed her down. It literally did. Every breath of air she took seemed to grip on her oesophagus before she released them. That was the atmosphere, she assumed, or the feeling of anticipation in her gut.

  She then looked around and her mind raced and marvelled at the new visuals.

  The train carriage had stopped at a platform. A simple one, with a metal canopy, concrete flooring and chrome benches. It made her think of those old-fashioned stations in Northern England, where tiny stations can only manage one or two carriages. The platform was situated in the middle of the sea with no roads leading to or from it.

  They were isolated on this small stony island.

  Emily walked to the edge of the platform to see a set of train tracks, hidden just under the water’s surface. This was how the carriage remained on the seawater without sinking. But as Emily inspected the railway, she noticed that there was nothing underneath the tracks. And nothing beneath the train station either.

  Nothing to support them at all. They were suspended over nothing.

  She followed the floating tracks with her eyes. They did not change nor turn. They only led away in a straight line towards the curved and empty horizon. The panorama was simply incredible.

  Donn stepped out of the carriage, holding Emily’s bag.

  He offered it to her. “Ahem. You forgot this.”

  Emily looked to him and took the bag back with a sheepish smile. “Oh. Sorry, thanks.” She shouldered her bag and rubbed her head in wonder. “So this… this is the land of death?”

  “Yes. Indeed. Well… part of it. The Deathlands are expansive and far-reaching. For there are other lands across the sea and beyond the horizon… This is just the entrance of my home. The ocean’s called the Styx. What do you think?”

  “It’s… peaceful. Like really peaceful. Fucking hell… Donn, it’s beautiful.”

  “Of course. That’s what death is. A respite from life until the new life to come…”

  “How- how do people get here? Their souls, I mean.”

  “Ah. Yes, now that you mention it… Observe.”

  Donn produced his cigarette case from his bag. Emily raised an eyebrow. “That’s where you keep the souls? How can you fit them in something so small?”

  Donn said nothing, but he made a half-smile as he opened it.

  And as soon as he did, there was a hissing sound and then a flurry of collected hairs, thousands in their glowing white number, flew out from the case and ascended into the sky.

  Emily took a step back in surprise at the suddenness of the flurry and she watched as they curled and soared through the air, blown about by a wind that Emily did not feel.

  “Whoa…” she said as the hair continued to fly from Donn’s case.

  “Souls can be perceived and retrieved in many ways.” Donn explained. “A ball of light, a strand of hair or a drop of blood… A hair strand is practical for me and my kind. Now, as to answer your question…”

  Donn closed the case and handed it to Emily. “Go on, open it.”

  Emily nodded and hesitantly pressed the small silver button that released the latch inside with a quiet click. She lifted the lid and winced, expecting something to happen.

  It didn’t. What was inside were ten cigarettes, held in a neat row by silk loops.

  “Huh?” Emily handed the case back. “I don’t get it.”

  Donn closed the case. “Because a human opened it. When I do though…”

  He pressed the catch button and popped open the lid. A whistling of wind and coolness exuded from the case. Emily peered inside and instantly felt woozy.

  There were no longer ten cigarettes and silk loops. Instead, it was an endless and dark chasm that dropped into the shadows. She stepped back and whistled through her lips. “Wow. I see…”

  “Yes. And now, off they go.” He pointed up into the sky.

  Emily turned her eyes up and watched the hairs- no, the souls float away from the platform and then shoot away towards an unseen destination. They were like feathers dancing in the night or swallows gliding together in the dusk of summer. Emily had never seen such a sight before.

  Donn watched on with her. “They shall head to a certain place where two entrances await them. A gate to a particular heaven and a particular hell.”

  Emily turned to him with surprise. “What, like Heaven, as in Christian Heaven? Wait, so God is real??”

  “Oh. Not just that Christian god. All of the gods. Of all the religions. All of the different nirvanas and dark realms that share that specific religion. Think of it as a motorway with many junctions. The road of death eventually leads a believer’s soul to its rightful place, based upon their belief, attitude and life choices.”

  “Believers… But what about atheists? People who don't believe in the afterlife? What happens to them?”

  “Are you an atheist?”

  “I’m Christian. Well, technically agnostic, but… bloody hell… guess I’m not anymore…”

  “Indeed… As for the atheists, they will remain here until they come to their own conclusions on what belief suits them best. Yes, it’s a forced decision upon their minds, but they have to go somewhere. A soul cannot be destroyed, only taken in or placed. We certainly can’t keep them here forever.”

  “Fair enough.”

  There came a boom in the distance, like that of a distant dynamite exploding. Emily and Donn looked towards the horizon where the sound came from and saw another carriage like theirs appearing from a temporal hole in space. It landed gracefully on the sea and upon another set of hidden tracks. However, it was not heading for their platform but for another platform that quickly rose from the sea to greet its approach.

  The new carriage slowed to a stop and when it did, a person stepped out from the doors. It was too far away for Emily to discern whether the person was a man or a woman.

  The person opened a similar case and a trail of hairs floated up from the platform and soared towards the same destination. Then the person sat down on a similar bench and waited.

  The person then looked to Donn and Emily and waved. Donn put up his hand and politely waved back with a certain eagerness that Emily had not seen before.

  “Who is that?” Emily asked.

  “That… is my colleague. She has arrived from her lands to here. Where we shall meet Death. It is a meeting that has not occurred for a while… Death wishes for us all to gather.”

  “How do we get there?” Emily looked over the edge of the platform. She could see the sea stretching down, far below her and reaching into oblivion. She pictured herself drowning. She remembered her mother drowning. “I- I’m not exactly a big fan of swimming.”

  “No worries. We won’t be getting wet. Observe. We shall travel in style.”

  He pointed to another part of the horizon. Emily followed his finger to where he was pointing. There she saw another shape emerge from the cusp of the world. Like a rider appearing from a mirage in a desert, the shape drew closer and closer towards their platform with startling speed.

  It was a boat. A wooden one, carved from white oak and layered with silver inlays that were inscribed in a dead language. It was large enough to fit ten people. And standing at the stern of the vessel was an old man, shrouded in dark rags and a hood hanging over his head.

  His wrinkled hands clutched at the long handle of his wooden paddle as he pushed his boat through the sea.

  He was stoic faced and silent.

  His eyes were glass-like and transparent.

  He had a downcast look about him, hunched and twisted as his body was.

  His scalp, peppered with thin strands of white hair, wrinkled and curled as he noted Donn and the human standing beside him.

  He swung his paddle with a great sweeping motion and expertly turned his boat to land alongside the edge of the platform. The side of the boat thudded gently against the marble. The little waves the boat made kissed the marble bricks. The old man looked up at Donn with his silent, sullen look. Donn smiled back.

  “Charon.” Donn stated to Emily. “The Ferryman of the Styx.”

  She nodded. Emily knew of Charon all right. She had seen plenty of movies, TV shows and books written about the ghostly Greek entity that escorted souls over the River Styx and to the underworld of Tartarus. Figuring that due reverence was required even for him, Emily stepped towards Charon and proffered her hand to him. “Hello there. Nice to meet you.”

  Charon looked at her hand. He stared at it hard. Emily pulled back her hand sheepishly. Then whilst looking at her, Charon spoke to Donn in a hoarse whisper. “Alive.”

  “Yes.” Donn confirmed. “She is.”

  Charon shifted his eyes to Donn without moving his head. “Why?”

  “Because of situations that were partially beyond my control. Also, she jumped on my train.”

  “Excuses?”

  “No excuses, Charon. They are reasons. Take them how you will. I am taking her to meet Death.”

  Charon now fully looked at Donn with partially widened eyes. It was a rare expression of shock that danced upon the Ferryman’s face. “Impossible…”

  “No it isn't. Look, I think this might be intriguing. It might be fun.”

  “No.”

  Donn sighed heavily and then laid a hand on Charon’s shoulder. “Listen, if our leader wanted Emily not to come in this state, then Emily should have been struck dead by now. Death has not. Ergo… Death intends me to bring Emily to the meeting.” Don crossed his arms. “Look, I need to come in to make my report. Either you take us both in or I stay out here and not do my job. Then you can explain as to why I am late…”

  Charon curled his lip in response. Donn had made a legitimate point, though a tad unreasonable, and Charon hated that. “Extortionist.” he hissed through his teeth.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Sacrilege.” he hissed again.

  “Maybe so. Only one way to find out.”

  “Dangerous.”

  “For us, maybe. Not you.”

  “Idiot.”

  “Will you please let us aboard, you old goat?”

  Charon looked at Emily. He studied her with his silent glare.

  He then reached out and held her chin in his hand. Emily nearly pulled back instinctively from the grab. “What the hell you playing at?!”

  But Donn put a hand on her hand. “Wait.”

  So Emily restrained herself and allowed Charon to study her. With her chin in his hand, he turned her head back and forth.

  He sighed throughout the inspection. They were long and dusty. His sighs stopped and he looked above her head. While Emily had no idea as to what he was looking at, Donn did. Charon was looking for Emily’s death date, which was missing. So, I wasn't hallucinating that. She truly has no death ready for her. Very odd.

  Charon made no mention of it however and he continued looking Emily over. When he was done, he let go of her and took her hand. He turned her palm to face the sky and there he placed a gold coin in her hand. It was a small round coin, with a skull imprinted upon one side and an hourglass on the other. A Latin phrase encircled both images: Memento Mori. The Latin shifted into English as it made contact with her skin.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “‘Remember that you will die’…” Emily read. “What’s this for?”

  Charon looked at her eyes. “Travel.”

  Donn translated for him to Emily. “You’re not dead, remember? Your soul is susceptible to wander towards the gates like a moth to a flame. This coin will keep you centred and, more importantly, alive.”

  “Do you have one as well?”

  “Certainly, all the Reapers have one. We use them on the job.”

  “Then I don’t see how I need it if you have one already.”

  “Emily. Trust me, no one alive is supposed to be here. This is not a thing to happen. Precautions must be made.”

  Charon nodded once. “Orpheus.” He grunted the ancient musician’s name with great disgust.

  “A prime example.” Donn nodded sagely and gestured to the boat. “Emily?”

  Emily gulped, slid the coin into her jacket pocket and stepped into the boat. It rocked awkwardly as she settled herself onto the boat’s cracked benches.

  Donn clambered aboard and sat next to her. “Thank you, Charon.” he said.

  Charon waited until they were settled, then he nimbly jumped from the platform and onto his steering spot.

  The boat hardly rocked at all upon his landing. Emily raised her eyebrows at that. Charon was surprisingly spry for his age. His feeble nature was most likely a ruse to hide a powerful form. Emily thought it best to not anger the Ferryman, for who knew what power he possessed.

  “How old is he, anyway?” Emily asked Donn, with growing curiosity. Then she shook her head at the moot question. “Wait, that’s a dumb question. Sorry.”

  “Oh no, that’s not stupid. If you don’t ask, you do not learn.” Emily smiled at that reasoning as Donn explained. “You see, Charon’s been around longer than anyone of us. He is what you could say the first Reaper. Isn’t that right, old timer? Been working since the dawn of Time alongside Chronos himself.”

  Charon grunted as he pushed the boat away from the platform and steered it towards the second platform, where the woman had been patiently waiting for them. “Retired.” Charon uttered.

  “Indeed.”

  “I didn't know you can retire.” Emily cocked her head to a side. “Aren’t you guys, like you know, immortal?”

  Donn’s face darkened at that question. Then he covered it up with a simple smile.

  “Yes. But we can get a bit tired of the whole malarkey sometimes. When he was working, Charon had to do global trips daily. Daily, Emily. Collecting all the souls across the world, once a day everyday. No holidays nor days off? That’s no way to make a decent living. Now he just makes sure we get from home to work and from work to home. On time and on schedule. For him, it’s far easier to have just a simple drive back and forth. He likes it.”

  “Meditation.” Charon chipped in.

  Donn gestured at Charon for making his point. “There you go.”

  Emily nodded and relaxed into her bench. She let her hand drift into the water. She was comfortable with just that. It was cool and smooth to her skin. She closed her eyes. She felt relaxed and silent. She wondered how events could have transpired so quickly in such a short space of time.

  In the morning, she woke up in her dilapidated room to plan her ill-fated escape.

  She went to eat some somewhat decent food at a chicken shop, researched on train times with her phone whilst sitting in the park and then waited for her father to drink himself to a drunken stupor.

  Now, only hours later, she was sharing a boat ride with two death deities, in the land of Death, on her way to see the actual Death.

  She laughed under her breath at the madness of it all.

  Suddenly a small sting of pain nipped at her finger.

  “Ah!” Emily started and yanked her hand out of the water. Her forefinger had a small ball of blood forming from its tip. “The hell? Something bit me!”

  Donn looked to her with eyebrows raised. Charon kept looking onwards, not caring at all.

  Emily pushed her head over the edge of the boat and looked into the depths, searching for her attacker. “What was it? Wait. There!”

  There was a shadow of something small, moving around quickly in the shallows of the sea. It had four limbs and a tail. Emily squinted her eyes to discern what it was, but the thing in the water turned about and started to swim up at her face at a frightening speed!

  Emily pulled herself back just in time as the thing that bit her finger erupted from the water and landed in the boat with a wet thud. Emily fell off her bench and landed on her back, with her legs up in the air. “Shit!” she blurted out.

  Donn laughed at her reaction. “What’s the matter with you, Emily? It’s only a Clacker.”

  “A- A what?”

  The thing, which Donn had called a ‘Clacker’, scrabbled along the boat and hopped onto Emily’s chest to stare at her face. Emily remained stock still at the sudden appearance of the creature staring at her.

  The Clacker had a purely skeletal form.

  Its head was that of a fox skull.

  Its limbs and body were that of a gibbon.

  Its tail and the boney spikes along its spine all resembled those of an iguana.

  The Clacker, with a distinctive cracked scarring down the left hand side of its skull, open its jaws and snapped them shut at Emily. It then made a confused snarl and snapped its jaws again, making its namely sound. It did this clacking noise three times before Donn gently swatted the animal away with the back of his hand.

  The Clacker chittered at Donn angrily and retreated to the bow of the ship. There it crouched down and stayed, watching Emily silently with its eyeless sockets.

  Emily was suitably unnerved by this new arrival. “What the hell is that thing?”

  “She is a Clacker.” Donn reiterated as he helped Emily settle back onto her seat. This time, Emily turned her body to have the Clacker within her eyesight. She did not trust having her back to the creature, which still snapped its jaws at her with unnerving regularity.

  “Pests.” Charon growled.

  “Agreed, Charon.” Donn nodded. “These Clackers are what the animal souls become. Animals do not have a morality nor religion. Unlike humans, their souls are quite two-dimensional. Therefore they cannot go to the afterlives. They can only remain here and await reincarnation into newborn animals, which by the way can take a hell of a long time… Even by our lengthy standards. And so as a result, the souls amalgamate with other animal souls over a period of time within this realm and then take new forms. This one here is unique in form, as are they all. We have ones the size of fleas and some the size of dragons.”

  Emily looked at Donn with great concern. “Hold on there. Dragons? Are you serious? Dragons? They’re here?”

  “Of course. But we don’t see them so much. They usually tend to keep themselves to themselves.”

  Emily checked on the Clacker. It had not moved from its spot as it watched her without any sign of stopping. “Donn. Why is that thing staring at me?”

  Charon coughed up a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle to Emily. “Hungry.”

  “Huh? Excuse me?!” she blurted.

  Donn laughed. “Don’t be alarmed. Charon is right though. She is hungry for souls. That’s what the Clackers eat. The residue of human souls, which is Time. Think of all the seconds, minutes, hours that a human has yet to live if she or he died prematurely. Think of an infant dying. Think about you. All those years going to waste, not to be used by you? All that spiritual energy… If you know how, it can be used to achieve power beyond imagination. Now would the Clackers truly waste that? Not a chance. To them, a soul’s residue takes like honey. The Clackers’ll snap it all up once the souls are delivered. They’re like pigeons in a city going after breadcrumbs. Hence, as Charon said; pests.”

  “Right…” Emily sighed. There was a lot for her to learn and quickly if she was to stay safe. To the Clackers, she must have looked like a walking, talking beef burger…

  Her bitten finger throbbed. The pain there should serve as a grim reminder.

  Charon’s expert boating allowed them to reach the other platform. Emily noticed Donn at the point. He was pushing his hair back, using the Styx’s water to wipe his face and patting down his clothes. She had never seen him so caring over his appearance. He did not strike Emily as the type of person to be like that. She looked back at the waiting colleague and then Emily raised an eyebrow with a smirk as the waiting person was a woman.

  Aha, I get it.

  Donn saw Emily’s look at him and glared at her smirk. “Don’t you say a word.” he whispered.

  Emily smirked again.

  Charon positioned the boat and proffered his hand to the woman awaiting them. The woman smiled a ‘thank you’ to Charon and seated herself in front of Donn. Charon pushed his boat away and they were off across the sea.

  Emily could now see why the Irish death god was so flustered.

  The woman seated opposite them was utterly rapturous, stunning and beautiful. Those three mortal words could not truly do her countenance justice.

  She was so beautiful that she put all things immaculate to some shame.

  She had long dark blue hair reaching down just past her shoulders with a fringe covering her forehead. Her eyes, with black tarpit irises, were accentuated by the black soot that acted as thick eyeliner. Her eyebrows were equally covered in the same soot. Hanging on her neck was a wide ornate Egyptian necklace made from porcelain beads of different shapes and colours (that being turquoise, blue, orange and red). She wore a dark red dress with silk slings hanging over her shoulders and that just covered her shaped bosom. Upon her bare arms and wrists, which like her body held the colour of burnt sand, sat weaved bands of blue wool and gold. She was barefooted with the similar blue/gold armbands wrapped around her small ankles. Emily could only judge that the woman was maybe in her late twenties, though she absolutely assumed that the woman was indeed far older than she looked.

  The woman turned her head, who also had an incredible neckline, towards Emily. She regarded Emily silently. Emily felt oddly bashful under her stare. It wasn't invasive like Charon’s. It was curious and intrigued, as if Emily was some new animal to be studied and even admired.

  The woman, whilst looking at Emily, spoke to Donn. “Donn. I never took you for the adopting type.”

  Emily couldn’t place her ethnicity. She has a strange accent. It sounds Arabic. Going by her tanned skin colour and her jewellery, that could be the case.

  Donn stammered - actually stammered - as he replied. “Oh- I-I-I- it’s not really adopting, per say. I just wanted to help her and-”

  The woman raised her hand to him and laughed. Emily blinked, snapping from the spell she felt she was under with that incredible stare. God, she has a beautiful laugh. Whoa… what was that? I couldn't even think straight. Damn.

  “No need for explanations. I understand completely.” The woman crossed her sculpted legs and looked at Donn.

  Donn nodded. “Right, yes! That’s fine.”

  “…… Donn? Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  “Ah! Apologies. Emily Davidson,” Donn gestured in a sweeping motion to the woman. The Clacker watching them mimicked Donn in his gesture with its clacking that sounded too similar to snickering.

  “Emily, allow me to introduce Nephthys, Egyptian Goddess of death and Reaper of Africa.”

  Emily put out her hand slowly. “Hi. Uh, do I shake your hand or is that not, like, appropriate?”

  Nephthys smiled at Emily. “It has been years since I had a conversation with a mortal… I would very much like that.” She took Emily’s hand and shook it gently. Emily got a shiver up her spine. God, her hand feels so soft… so warm.

  “A pleasure to meet you.” Nephthys said. She looked past them to Charon. “Hello Charon. Are you well?”

  “So-so.” the old man replied in suitably monosyllabic fashion.

  “That’s good.” Nephthys returned her eyes on Emily. There was more curiosity in her eyes as she subtly glanced at the top of Emily’s head. There was something she knew, but chose not to say… “You are an interesting find…”

  “Huh?” Emily said. “I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, no need to concern yourself, dear. I tend to be quite cryptic. One of my many faults.” Nephthys laughed and then proceeded to look out over the sea.

  “Donn.” She asked after a few minutes of silent pondering. “Do you know how long it has been since we were all called together?”

  “Oh. I’m not sure. Maybe three, four hundreds years?”

  “It was just after the Black Death… that horrible plague that claimed so many…” “I remember… Is everyone coming?”

  “Yes.” Donn gave her a look. “Whiro, as well?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Hell…” Donn rubbed his eyes. “I don’t understand why he needs to be there.”

  “He is a Reaper. An efficient one at that.”

  “He’s a bully. He also enjoys his role a little too much.”

  “Donn… he’s our colleague. Respect is due”

  “Well, I’d rather not sit next to him at the table, if that’s all the same to you.”

  Nephthys smiled once again. “Do not worry. I’m sure you won’t have to.”

  Emily decided against asking who this ‘Whiro’ character was. She figured that she would learn eventually in good time. Until then, she decided to plug in her earphones and continue listening to her playlist.

  Charon stared indignantly at the device in her hands. Emily waved it at him. “iPod.” she said.

  Charon turned away and expunged a glob of dusty spit from his mouth and into the sea. “Trash.”

  “Jeez, fine then.”

  Nephthys waved her hand apologetically at Emily and gestured her to continue listening to her music. Emily made herself comfortable and watched the waves roll past her as the boat sailed through the endless sea.

  While they waited, Donn watched Nephthys examining her necklace. She had taken it off to inspect one of the blue beads, which was shaped into a small scarab. Donn couldn't help smiling at her.

  Nephthys looked up to see his expression. “What’s so funny?” she asked innocently.

  “Nothing funny. It’s just… It’s good to see you. After all this time.” “Oh. Yes, it is.” She stroked her hair and pushed it back past her shoulders. “It’s been a while since we last saw one another.”

  “It has been. Have you-… have you been keeping well?”

  Emily, inquisitive as she had always been, couldn’t help but eavesdrop. She subtly stopped her music and listened in.

  “I have.” Nephthys replied. “Things have been hard at work. A lot of more child deaths than usual for my liking. But as for my family, they are quite well.”

  “Ah. Yes. That’s- that’s good. And the deaths… Uh, yes. In that part of the world, certainly.”

  “Only in the parts that cannot afford childcare, food, medicine and homes. You know, the things that human beings need to live. I cannot remember when that was not the case.”

  “Is there anything I can-?”

  Her face fell as soon as he asked. “Donn.”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop.” “What?”

  “You know what.”

  “I don’t think I do.”

  “You’re trying to help me. Like you always do.”

  “It’s a polite thing to do. To help someone in need.” Nephthys flashed her eyes at him. It was not flirtatious, but angry. “Believe me, dear. I am not ‘someone in need’. You made your choice. You should accept that.” Donn looked away. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head with a sad smile. “You haven't changed, Donn.” Nephthys gestured at Emily.

  He frowned at her. “What.”

  Nephthys searched Donn’s eyes. “She was in need to help, yes? Saving even? You just had to step in. Of course you did. You could not help it. It is in your nature in involve yourself…”

  “I had no choice. If you were there-”

  “Oh, I didn’t need to be there. I perfectly understand your reasons. But you need to understand that some things cannot be resolved by your involvement. Some things must be allowed to be resolved alone.”

  Donn frowned in bewilderment. “Nephie. I wasn’t even thinking about that. Emily needed help-” Nephthys held up her hand to stop him.

  “Oh Donn. Please. I appreciate your concerns for my well-being, but I do not require nor need it. I haven’t needed it for centuries. And I would appreciate that you desist from using my nickname. As you have noticed, I have not used yours in our converse thus far.”

  “I-” Donn started to say something. But he shut his mouth and turned away. “I understand.”

  Nephthys’ face grew to a something that resembled sadness and looked in the opposite direction.

  And Emily felt incredibly awkward.

  There was a story between these two, she surmised as much from their brief conversation. But there, behind those words, were volumes that spanned perhaps centuries. But she knew that now was not the time to delve into it.

  Best not to go there, lest she wanted her visit into the land of Death to become a permanent one.

  Without being able to help it, Emily eventually nodded off on the boat ride. It was because of the atmosphere of the sea. The calmness of the sky.

  The rocking of the boat reminded a small part of her mind about her time in the rocking crib which she had once seen as her entire world. In her sleep, Emily started to dream those distant memories, which were being filled with purest clarity.

  She dreamt that she was a baby once again.

  She laid on her small back, hands and feet up in the air. She was not asleep. Far from it, she was wide awake and cooing as a cheery baby would do. She waved her hands and feet at the ceiling that she had grown familiar with. She cried out. And upon that call came her mother. She peered from the edge of the crib, both her hands holding onto the edge. She smiled that bright smile of hers.

  She reached down and stroked Emily’s cheek with one finger. Emily grabbed onto it with her tiny hand and held on tightly. Her mother laughed and reached down with her other hand and stroked her head. Emily laughed and rolled into her touch.

  Her mother leant down and kissed her daughter on the forehead. And with that kiss, Emily awoke and her beautiful dream was gone.

  They had docked upon a pier made of white wood. Not bleached or painted wood, but white wood as if the trees of the world envied the white cliffs of Dover and were determined to not be outdone. Two wooden railings, carved into skull-adjourning spikes, girded the walkway that merged into dry brown land.

  Emily stepped out after Donn and Nephthys. The Clacker, which had watched and ogled at Emily for the entire trip, hopped off the boat and clambered up to sit upon Nephthys’s shoulder. She did not mind this at all, in fact she petted the little creature’s head tenderly as it became comfortable on its new perch. It still watched Emily though, with those hungry sockets.

  Charon remained on his boat and watched the group walk away. Donn and Nephthys looked back to Charon and nodded a thanks to the old man. Charon waved them off and sat down in his boat to rest.

  The group walked up a dry brown hill. Emily felt her trainers crunch into the crackling soil and sand as their ascent curved upwards at an angle that was impossible to climb. And yet the trio did so with ease. Emily marvelled at this, but assumed later that that was a perk the Reapers had and that she was granted. The rules of physics would count for naught in the land of death. The climb continued for a few minutes and the air whistled around Emily’s head with such gentleness.

  There was a roar overhead.

  Emily looked up and saw a silhouette in the yellow sky. It was winged and it swooped gracefully through the clouds. Upon closer inspection, or as much inspection Emily could manage whilst being stuck on the ground, she guessed that the shape was similar to that of a dragon.

  Jesus Christ, it really is a dragon…

  A dragon Clacker. Ever since Donn’s information, their diet was still fresh and threatening in her mind. But the dragon-like Clacker seemed to not notice the group and swooped away from them undisturbed. Emily sighed with relief. She looked back to check on Charon, who was now a small figure as the group reached the summit.

  Emily was unsure how a retired death deity like Charon would rest, but such technicalities were not to be considered as she looked upon another sight that stunned her as it rose over the crest of the great hill.

  “Welcome to the House of Death.” Donn announced. Emily just stared and stared.

  The House of Death looked like a large tower, like those committed buildings of historical value which were supposed to be destroyed and then rebuilt but now kept for historical value. It had the colour of a Victorian mansion, red bricks and all, with a black door placed at the centre of the ground floor. Black painted window sills, lined the infinite floors that rose higher and higher into the sky. Emily decided that the Shard would be dwarfed by this building.

  Above the front door was the word ‘Welcome’ and the door’s knocker was a silver skull hanging on a metal latch.

  Nephthys and Donn stepped on the doorstep and exchanged a look at one another.

  “Would you like to do the honours this time?” Nephthys offered.

  “Yes, I think I would.” Donn replied as he reached out and knocked the door thrice. The knocking boomed and echoed into a building that did not exist. Emily looked them.

  “What do we do? There’s nothing here.”

  “Wait.” Donn advised.

  Wait they did and sure enough, the door creaked open and allowed the group entry.

  They walked in and Emily was again forced to question her eyes and her sanity.

  They now stood in a gigantic and opulent hallway, a hundred metres high, with white Grecian pillars supporting a curved roof that Emily was able to glimpse in the rafters. Great cloth banners hanging from all the pillars, displaying the same skull insignia that was imprinted on Emily’s coin. As far as Emily could see, there were no other doorways. Just the hall, with its many windows. A small wind had arrived and howled quietly outside.

  “Eat your heart out, TARDIS…” Emily whistled.

  Donn smiled at Emily’s wonderment.

  “Is this it?” Emily asked. “Aren’t there any other rooms?”

  Nephthys shook her head. “Yes and no, Emily. The House itself only gives those what is needed at the time. What is needed now is a meeting. So it gave us a table to meet at and a hall to meet in. When one wishes for a bed, a food, a drink, a piece of cloth; the House shall always provide.”

  “Okay. So if I wanted a banana to eat-”

  A banana appeared in Emily’s empty hand. She stared at it. “Whoa.” She peeled the fruit’s skin off and took a bite. Her eyes stared at the magical fruit. “Oh shit. It’s real.”

  Nephthys also smiled at Emily’s wonder. “As I said, the House shall always provide.”

  As Nephthys said this, Emily could see that the hall stretched downwards towards a table that was situated at the back. At this table were nine chairs. Five of those chairs were already filled.

  Donn put his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Stay calm and keep your mouth closed. Let me do the talking, you understand? Any questions coming your way, you just look to me to answer them. Right? And none of your backtalk.”

  “OK.” Emily nodded. Usually, she’d not stay quiet. But this time, she knew she had keep herself to herself. Otherwise… Emily shuddered. She’d prefer not to think about that course of actions.

  They walked on. Their steps echoed in the hall. And upon their distance shortening with each step, Emily was able to get a good look at the other Reapers who watched their newest (and possibly late) arrivals.

  She also noticed that the table was in the shape of a perfect triangle. Four chairs were placed at each of the rising sides with the ninth placed at the point between the two rows. Emily assumed that by the chairs’ position that the head chair belonged to Death. It seemed to Emily that Death had not yet arrived. She didn’t know if that was good or not. The dread in Emily’s body began to slowly swell.

  Three chairs on the table’s left side were filled, two were filled on the right.

  On the right sat a middle-aged woman and a small girl.

  The woman was dressed in two silk robes, both dyed in the colours of a dark blue sea and the flesh of the dead. She wore thatched slippers and had a golden circlet wrapped around her forehead and a golden dragon Norse-like choker around her neck. Her eyes were a faded grey, matching her braided yet frayed hair and her supple skin. She bore Gaelic tattoos all along her arms and hands, reaching to her blackened fingertips. She held a hard countenance, looking more of a man than woman, yet holding a feminine quality that kept her within the realm of that sexuality. She looked exceptionally gloomy, putting even the most depressed individuals in the world to shame. Sleeping and snoring under her chair was a great, shaggy dog with scars all over his mangy grey fur.

  The woman’s name was Hel, the co-Reaper of Europe and Donn’s colleague. Her dog was Garmr.

  The small girl was an extreme contrast to the downcast woman beside her. The little girl was dressed like a Narragansett native, with a tanned leather dress over her body and legs. A pair of deerskin moccasins covered her feet. Her hair, short and curly, was blacker than obsidian and shinier than a summer river. Her skin was the colour of tree sap. Her eyes were a bright pink. Her face was filled with joy and a hint of mischief. And when she smiled, which was often, sparkling diamonds shone in-between her lips instead of bone teeth. Due to her small stature, the girl was on her scuffed-up knees, bouncing upon the chair and leaning on the table with her palms patting against the wood in a display of mild and childish impatience.

  Her name was Chepi, the Reaper of North America.

  On the left were two middle-aged men and a dog between them.

  The man closest to the head of the table was tall. Taller than all those present at the table, with his head and shoulders higher than all theirs. He had fours arms, muscular and broad, which pushed against the red, yellow and blue sari that he wore. His two legs sat in a perfect Lotus position upon his chair. A wrathful expression filled his face with literal storm clouds hanging over his bald scalp. Four protruding fangs pushed out from his mouth, which was curled in a permanent snarl. A hangman’s noose was slung over his chair’s shoulder with his mace lying by his feet. A crown of small copper skulls stayed upon his head. He was potbellied yet skinny in all the right and wrong areas. His eyes were a milky white, though he did not act blind. He watched all those within the hall with a steely glare.

  His name was Yama, the Reaper of Asia.

  The dog sat upon the chair like any dog would in Emily’s world. But that was where the similarities between this dog and the dogs of Emily’s world ended. This dog wore a red and yellow clay crown with feathers protruding from it. The dog wore golden armbands upon its paws and hind legs. The dog’s large ears were peppered with piercings. A twisted wind jewel, larger than any jewels Emily had ever seen, hung from its neck. The dog’s brown fur crackled with small sparks of blue electricity, electricity that sometimes jumped to join the storm clouds over Yama’s head. Panting quietly with his tongue hanging, the dog looked around the hall with clear focus, which would be hard to achieve with no eyes. The dog had no eyes within the sockets that were covered in lymph and scar tissue.

  The dog’s name was Xolotl, the Reaper of South America.

  The final man had his eyes upon the new arrivals as soon as they had entered the building. His eyes, which were bright red, stared down Nephthys with blatant lust. When switching to Donn, the look swiftly changed to extreme loathing. The man was fat. Fatter than a whale and sweatier than an elephant in musk. He wore black strips of cloth, making up for simple bodily decency. If he could show off copious amounts of his bulging flesh, he would. He was not ashamed of his body. In fact, he was proud of it. For like Hel, he had many tattoos upon his personage. All the imagery and languages of his continent were etched upon his back, chest, stomach, arms, neck, legs, feet, hands, arse and genital areas. He wanted to tell the world of his exploits and by the gods, he would do so. There were seeping battle wounds on his body. Wounds that did not, or would not, heal. But instead of seeping blood, they were seeping darkness. Black vapours of shadow spilled out from his wounds and lay like dry ice fog upon the floor. He played with one of his wounds, pushing his fingers against the rip like a spot that needed expunging. Black darkness spat out from the wound and landed on the table. Chepi made a grimace and lent back in obvious disgust. The man chuckled menacingly at her reaction as he wiped the darkness from the table. Yama gave the man a sharp glare, which the man ignored. Instead, he licked his lips in a perpetual state of hunger. For he was indeed very hungry…He was always hungry…

  His name was Whiro, the Reaper of Oceania.

  Nephthys took Emily’s hand to lead her around to the right side and sat Emily down on the end of the row between herself and Chepi. Chepi leant back to check out the new girl. Emily glanced quickly at Chepi. Chepi smiled a welcoming expression, although it was way too wide by any human standard. Emily smiled nervously back.

  Donn saw the only seat available and gave Nephthys an annoyed look. She shrugged. Donn sighed and sat himself down next to Whiro, all the while ignoring the looks thrown his way by the antagonistic deity.

  “Been out for a while, haven't you Donn?” Whiro said after an excruciatingly long silence amongst the table.

  “For as long as anyone would be, Whiro.” Donn replied with a tinge of irritation. No one can truly say when the enmity between the two deities had started or why. It just seemed to be the case. Sometimes, two people just cannot get along… Whiro sweated a great deal and therefore, he stank of putrid waste. Donn wrinkled his nose. Whiro did not miss that movement of muscle.

  “Something wrong with my smell, Donn?”

  “If I say yes, what would you do?”

  Whiro smiled viciously and leant close to Donn’s ear. “Then I would eat your body, from your little balls up to your sharp tongue. Then I’d shit you out like a tiny brown worm…”

  “Then, in that case, I shall say no…. You smell as you should smell.”

  Whiro’s eyes widened at the backhanded compliment. “Oh, really?” His hands twitched to strangle.

  “Whiro. Donn. Enough.” Yama uttered. “I do not care for your jibes. Both of you. It has been a long journey for us all. And we have not seen eachother for a very long time. Let us enjoy eachother’s company.”

  “Fine.” Whiro raised his arms in mock regret. “My apologies, Yama…”

  Yama said nothing at that, but leant back in his chair.

  Hel looked at Nephthys. “You are looking well.”

  Nephthys returned the look at Hel. “I am? Thank you. You look lovely in that garb.”

  Hel nodded slowly. “A father’s gift. He wanted me to represent his kin in the best light-”

  Chepi piped up over Hel. “Hey! Hey! Hey! What about me?!” She patted her chest. “I think I look im-ma-cu-late!”

  Hel shot Chepi a stern glance while Nephthys smiled warmly. “As you should, Chepi.”

  Chepi grinned, but she still did not take her eyes off Emily, who tried to sink into her chair so that no one would notice her. Emily felt like a new girl at school. The sheer feeling of loneliness and being judged by all those who have already established a domain. It was an uncomfortable feeling already, if she were to ignore the fact that she was surrounded by all these deities of death. She felt like she did not belong here. At all.

  Christ. What the hell am I even doing here? Why did I want to come with Donn? What’s the matter with me? I could be in Kent by now. Having a breakfast somewhere in a nice, warm hostel. Maybe go on a walk on a bloody beach, God damn it! I’m such a tit. I really am.

  And with that thought in mind, Emily sunk ever further into her chair to try and hide.

  But when one takes more action to be unnoticed, the more that person becomes noticed.

  So everyone then stared at her. Fuck.

  It was Xolotl, whom Emily assumed did not talk as per any normal dog, who spoke in a clear and quick tongue. That shocked her ever more. “Perhaps.” he asked in an unusually high pitched voice. “We should ask Donn and Nephthys who the girl is. Isn’t that what the mortals call ‘the elephant in the room’?”

  All eyes looked to Donn and Nephthys, while Emily stared at Xolotl in disbelief that he even talked. Whiro, relishing any chance for discord and scandal, leant on the table and stared at Donn with mockingly accusatory eyes.

  “Rightly said, Xolotl. They should give us an explanation when they’re not too busy exchanging loving, if rather awkward, glances…”

  Donn had had enough. He whipped his head at Whiro. “What is your implication, Whiro?”

  Emily’s hairs stood up on end. This was not going to end well…

  Nephthys gave Donn a pained look.

  Whiro put a hand on his chest. “Sir! I do not imply! To imply is to lie. I do not deal with lies. I deal with the truth, for the truth is far crueler…” He glanced at Nephthys with another sinister look of sexual pining. “For example, I can only imagine it is hard to longingly stare at one woman’s arse and not think of the other woman’s-”

  Whiro had meant to insult more, but Donn silenced him up with a solid punch to the mouth.

  Whiro was thrown back into his chair.

  Emily leant back in shock as all the Reapers leapt into action.

  Whiro threw himself at Donn with wild crimson eyes, outstretched fingers and a strangled roar. Driven to incensed anger, Donn raised his fists to do the same and his eyes blackened, his face returning to his demonic visage that Emily had witnessed in London.

  But Xolotl viciously bit down on Whiro’s leg, drawing out black darkness, to hold him down while Yama used three of his arms to pin the struggling Whiro to his chair.

  Garmr, who magically appeared upon the table, leapt across to stand over Donn with bared, dripping fangs. Chepi had also sped across and had a small obsidian dagger pressed against Whiro's neck.

  Donn stared with great wrath at Whiro as he roared and ranted, chucking vile threats and curses at the silent Gaelic.

  Hel did not move, she simply watched.

  Nor did Nephthys. She laid a hand on Emily’s and smiled apologetically.

  “This happens a lot. Please do not be concerned. I am sorry you had to see this.”

  “I- I- I’m not concerned.” Emily lied. Bloody hell… they’re acting like children.

  Nephthys, as if sensing Emily’s understandable lie, turned back to Hel with a pleading look. “We should at least be presentable when our benefactor arrives.”

  Hel nodded and suddenly disappeared. She appeared behind the two fighting deities and placed her hands on their heads. Her eyes flew open and black blood oozed from within. She spoke with a terrible coarseness as her black tears rained down on the floor.

  “Cease your childish squabble. If you do not, I will lock your souls away into a metal box that has no light, no dark nor time. Only nothingness awaits you there. You will not see, hear, feel, taste nor smell. You will not escape. You will go mad before I let you out. You will wish for the end. You will wish for Oblivion. You will beg, cry and scream for salvation. But I will not give that to you. So you will cease NOW!”

  Both Donn and Whiro froze. Then Donn raised his hands. “I yield.”

  Whiro, though taking a little more time to do so, also raised his fists. “I also yield.”

  Emily shook her head. They are really acting like kids.

  Chepi, Yama and Xolotl backed away and returned to their seats. Hel nodded and then reappeared at her chair. She was back to her usual gloomy self and said not another word.

  Garmr also reappeared under his mistress’s chair with similar speed, though he did not sleep.

  “I believe that Yama and Whiro should exchange seats, so that we do not have further incursions to our meeting?” Xolotl chirped, ever the voice of reason.

  “Agreed.” Yama stood and walked towards Whiro. He waited for Whiro to stand. Whiro was reluctant to give up his chair.

  “Why should I move. Why not him?” He thumbed at Donn while he rubbed his bruised mouth. “He was late. I was not. And he punched me!”

  “You were rude. He was not. And the punch was deserved.” Yama rebuked. “Give up your seat or I will make you.”

  Whiro snarled, but he stood up. He flashed an eye at Donn. “Got a nice little jab there, Donn. Keep it up. You might need it later…”

  “Move, you lout!” Yama barked.

  Whiro shut his mouth, lumbered over to Yama’s chair and threw himself down. There he sulked.

  Yama slowly seated himself and then gave Donn a glare of warning.

  “I will not hear another word from you, will I? Only when you are being asked to speak. Am I understood, boy?”

  Yama’s use of the word ‘boy’ was to instil control over the younger deity. It worked, for Donn nodded slowly. He looked to Emily and shrugged an apology. Emily, feeling comforted by Donn’s soothing presence (compared to the other Reapers’ somewhat more volatile energies), gave him a similar shrug in return.

  Those at the table then delved into simple small talk while they waited for Death to join them. Death had still not arrived. The ninth chair still remained empty.

  Emily was confused by that. In her mind, Death would have been the most punctual at least. Deaths across the world happen all the time. Someone had to have kept up with the numbers, that would have needed a mind so focused that time-keeping should be a second nature.

  But not so. Death was late.

  Emily had read many fantasy books, seen many films and TV shows where the Grim reaper was personified by either a gaunt old man or a woman with a snarky attitude. The skeletal figure, hooded in black cloth and wielding a wooded scythe, was the go-to thought in her head. Or maybe they’ll appear like a a human in a suit, like Joe Black?

  The dour mood is a given, surely. Is she going to be beautiful or ugly? And what is her voice going to sound like? Calm? Angry? Emotionless?

  So many questions and theories sprouted in her head.

  Why is Death a girl in my mind? Maybe Death adopts different faces to blend in with the crowd whilst working? Where would Death begin? How would Dead begin? Does Death sleep? Eat?

  But before she could work out many, many more questions to ask herself, the front door creaked opened.

  Talking at the table quickly ceased as all the Reapers turned to the front door. Emily had a clear view of the door. The door remained open but no one came through. Emily opened her mouth to ask a question. But Nephthys tapped Emily’s shoulder and put a finger to her own lips with stern eyes. Donn also shook his head at Emily with similar eyes. Emily wisely closed her mouth and waited for the arrival that did not come. After a few seconds, the door suddenly closed shut.

  And as soon as it did, the atmosphere in the building, which was warm and oddly welcoming to Emily, became incredibly cold and hostile. Life seemed to be torn from the air itself and the hall with all of its contents within ceased movement. Nothing moved at all.

  Emily started shivering, and not just because of the cold. She felt terror. Not the childish terror she had for her father. Not the existential terror of her aimless life. No.

  This was a primal terror. Like a terror that rises within you when you are alone in the dark. In the middle of the night. In a cave, or in a forest or on a mountainside.

  It was terror that made you feel utterly helpless and powerless. Making you vulnerable to anything or anyone looking to eat you…

  Emily felt this and shivered ever more. She wrapped herself up in her jacket and hugged her knees to her chest. She looked to the Reapers.

  They also were reacting in the same vein as her, though not as violently. They shivered, but not so much. Garmr and the Clacker on Nephthys’s shoulder hissed and whined nervously. They all looked to the chair. So did Emily.

  This is the presence of Death… she thought.

  It was more than power. Power was something tangible that could be seen in the forms of money, armies, intellect or magic. But with Death? No. Power wilted against such a force of existence. Nature quailed against Death.

  That was Death’s strength and power. That was what Emily felt in her gut. In her mind. And in her soul. This was what Donn had meant.

  The chair remained empty. Then the chair moved backwards with a shunting across the floor.

  Windows opened throughout the hall, allowing a warm breeze to drive out the coldness of the hall. Light suddenly filled the room, making everything a lot brighter and easier to see. Garmr quietly howled. The Reapers all stood up immediately, almost as if in a salute.

  Driven by an unfamiliar sense for propriety, Emily did so as well, with goosebumps forming on her arms and legs. No one said a word. All waited for the beginning of the meeting.

  Death had arrived.