David stared in shocked silence as Fred sat himself down on the pew next to David and stared him down. David had no clue as to what he could say. The undead man, the man that he was certain he had killed, remained silent and seemed to wait for David to speak.

  “How?” was all David could ask.

  Fred scratched his face and the stubble that still remained there. His burnt skin was a sickly grey and slightly peeling in places. It looked as if he was made of wax, but the flesh was all too real. David channeled his mind into his magical eye and turned on his vision.

  As he looked upon, he could see a world of difference. Whilst the church was engulfed in its multicoloured veneer, Fred was utterly coloured in black. His scarred hands, his brown loafers, his tattered trousers and his white matted shirt, all were in the same black. Same as the unusual clouds and the snow. Fred’s body was embedded with magic. A dark magic. David traced his eye up along Fred’s form and stopped at his right eye. There, David could see a sigil etched into Fred’s pupil. The same as his.

  “Are you alive?” David asked.

  Fred stared back at him blankly. And in David’s head, Fred’s voice spoke.

  “No.” came the monotonous reply.

  David looked around for the voice, despite knowing that it came from Fred. But how could he speak when he wasn’t? What the hell was going on?

  Fred stared at David and in his vision, David saw Fred’s sigil flash a bright white light. David blinked back the brightness. “I am Michael’s will… I am his arm. I am his extension.”

  The Fred that sat next to David was a world of difference from the Fred that he had killed. When he was alive, if that meant anything anymore, was wildly emotional and volatile. This Fred was silent, stoic even, and said nothing when left alone. He only replied to questions. He didn't seem to hold any individual drive. It was eerie. It was a hollow shell speaking. Nothing more. And to David, that seemed to be far more terrifying to witness. What had Michael done to Fred? How had he gotten Fred out of that burning wreckage? Were there others out there like him? David shuddered inside to think of that possibility.

  “And why are you here?” David asked.

  “To remind you. You will find the girl. Delay us and I will kill that man. Then I will kill you.”

  Father Daniels. David breathed though his nose and his hands started to tremble with anger.

  “You will not.” he uttered as he glared intensely at Fred who remained completely emotionless.

  “I will. If you fail, I will.”

  David looked away and his head began to hurt. The prolonged use of the magic was draining him. He had to stop or he felt like he was going to pass out. David sighed with exertion and blinked out of the magic in his eye.

  Fred’s voice no longer sounded its opinion in his head, leaving just a silent and threatening man instead to stare at him. David leant back and rubbed his eye. It was getting sore.

  So… what I see or Fred sees, Michael sees. He’s Michael’s will? Okay then. He brought Fred back. That’s just…mad… I- No. I can’t think about that now, I have to get him away from here. Get him away from Father.

  David looked back at Fred.

  “Brighton, Fred.” David said. “Emily’s going to Brighton. I’m sure of it.” David stood up and Fred instantly stood up with him. “Oh, so you're going to stalk me now?”

  Fred stared back at him silently.

  David shrugged. “Perfect.” After crossing himself, David headed down the aisle and straight for the main doors, now becoming acutely aware of the danger he had just put Father Daniels in.

  *****

  Emily rested on her bed, watching the black granite ceiling arching above her. A ceiling fan spun hypnotically counter-clockwise, providing Emily was a cool breeze on her face. Her head rested on her hands as she listened to her music, Newton’s Angel Of The Morning. She mouthed the lyrics with some gusto as the song thundered through her mind.

  It was perfect for her current mood. She loved the song for its defiant display of independence and love. She wondered if Nephthys would like the song. Emily smiled as she imagined a crazy 80s scenario where Donn and Nephthys would dance along to the song and then halfway through it, he would profess his undying love to her and then she would reciprocate it.

  Emily smirked and snorted a laugh. She always figured herself as a hopeless romantic. She had a roster of ex-boyfriends to prove that. And she knew would happily pay a billion pounds to see the Reapers’ dance happen just like that.

  She felt a prodding on her shoe. She glanced down and rolled her eyes. “Go away, Fresca.”

  Fresca the Clacker stared at her with a curious tilt of her head. She hopped up towards Emily’s head and with one boney finger, rapped Emily’s earphones like a woodpecker.

  Emily grunted ad roughly pulled off her earphones. “Ugh, what??”

  Fresca thumbed to the door with an eerily human gesture. The door was knocking with passion. Emily had not heard it knocking at all. The music was too loud for it, but that was the way Emily liked her music. She got up with a huff, having enjoyed the relaxation in her room and opened the door.

  Donn was standing there, arms crossed and impatiently tapping his foot, wearing the look of a man who had no time for pleasantries. “Two minutes of knocking and then you open up?”

  “Sorry.” Emily gestured to her music. “My bad.” “Yeah, well I hope you’re all packed up. We’ve got work to do.”

  “I’ve been packed up for the last half an hour!” Emily noticed that Donn was carrying a black rucksack over his shoulder. “No briefcase then?”

  “I’m not on shift, am I? This is a holiday. Of sorts.”

  “AHA! I knew it!” came a small chirpy voice. Chepi suddenly materialised herself, sitting on Donn’s shoulder. She waved at Emily. “I called it! It is a holiday! Hi there, Emily! How’s goes it in Hotel Mort?”

  Emily smiled at the plucky death god. “Oh, Chepi! I’m good thanks. Bed’s pretty comfy.”

  “Hurrah for you, young one!”

  Donn groaned. “Chepi, I’m not a blasted horse. Kindly vacate your ethereal behind off me before I knock you off with a flick of my wrist.”

  Chepi stuck her tongue out at Donn and then took flight upon her fairy wings.

  “Wow.” Emily remarked in wonder of her wings. “Hey Chepi, you can sit on my shoulder if you like.”

  Chepi put her hands over her chest and squealed with eyes so wide you could fit tennis balls over them. “Really!? Thank you!”

  She landed with a feathered thump on Emily’s shoulder.

  Emily was surprised to discover that Chepi hardly weighed anything at all. To apply a worn out phrase; Chepi really was as light as a feather.

  Chepi stuck out her chin at Donn. “At least some people have a solid sense of manners!”

  Donn rolled his eyes and started to walk down the hallway. “We’re going to be late. Hurry Emily.”

  “All right, all right! Jesus…” Emily bent down to pick up her rucksack. “Huh.”

  It felt slightly heavier than usual.

  But she disregarded that as she had to go after Donn, who was always turning a corner down the end. She shouldered her rucksack and hurried down the hallway.

  Perhaps the rules of gravity differ here. Chepi hardly weighs anything yet my stuff weighs heavier? What a wacky place. Best not think about it too much or I might go mad… Blimey, if I hadn’t already.

  Then a horrid thought came fleetingly across her mind.

  Wait. What if this isn't real? What if I’m asleep and this is all a dream? Hold on. She gave her arm a pinch. She winced. Ow. OK. I’m definitely awake.

  They made their way through the House of Death. They did not encounter the other Reapers nor Death itself. Emily reasoned that they most likely went back to work. Chepi then said that she had remained behind to leave with them. She liked keeping them company and wanted to say goodbye to them properly.

  It was not long before Emily noticed by his stiff body language that Donn was not in a particularly good mood. She decided to slow her pace to create enough distance to have a conversation with Chepi which Donn could not hear. It was a faint hope, since he was a supernatural being, but it was a chance she wanted to snatch at.

  “Don’t worry,” Chepi suddenly spoke up, as if she had read Emily’s mind (which she probably had). “He won’t hear our thoughts and voices this far off. His mind is on a lot of things anyway.”

  “What’s the matter with him? Why is he in such a bad mood?”

  “You mean when isn't he in such a bad mood? He always gets like this after the meetings.”

  “But why? Aren't you guys supposed to work together?”

  Chepi gave Emily a sympathetic look. “You’re human. You don’t get it, Emily.”

  “Try me.”

  “You remember all of us, yeah? Seven Reapers. All led by one Death. THE Death. In the beginning, there were a whole lot of us Reapers. I mean, a whole lot more.”

  “How many?”

  “Oh boy… Including Charon… it was two hundred and sixty-nine deities of of the old rigor mortis in the beginning.”

  “Two hundred and sixty nine?” Emily widened her eyes at that thought and the mental image of that many Reapers crammed into the great hallway in which the last meeting took place. It certainly explained why the House of Death was so large. It was all for accommodation apparently. “No wonder you needed a big place like this.” she concluded.

  “The size of the house doesn't matter. It fits enough for whoever happens to be in.”

  “Well, where are the rest of you?”

  Chepi grew quiet. “I’m unsure if I should disclose that….”

  “You can. You can trust me.” Emily smiled. “Come on.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Well… alright then.” Chepi leaned against Emily’s head. This didn't hamper Emily’s walk. “You recall Hel, the scary lady with her dog Garmr?”

  “Sure.”

  “Yeah, what part of the world do you remember that she works on?”

  “Uh, Europe.” Then something came to Emily’s mind. “Wait a second, isn't Donn the Reaper of Europe as well?”

  Chepi tapped Emily. “Exactly. They’re what you’d call Co-Reapers.”

  “What’s the ‘Co’ short for? Cooperative?”

  “No. Competitive.”

  “OK, so what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “In the past, I wasn't the main Reaper of North America, Emily. None of us were. We all had to share out the duties between the other continental death gods. But it made us weak. The amount of souls collected by each one of us was too little. You see, for a Reaper to reap, they gain new strength. They become more powerful, live longer… just become better in every way. We are sustained by your human souls’ power. Back then, there simply wasn't enough souls to collect and for the resulting after-effects of the reaping to go around.”

  “But there’s billions of humans on the planet.”

  “You’d think that help. We thought so too. What with the wars and famines that occur on a yearly basis. It hardly put in so much as a dent in the world’s population. But it didn't solve it. Somehow, we were getting weaker and weaker. The presence of all those gods and goddesses drained at us all… And the weaker we got, the weaker the barrier between life and death became. And then trouble started. All those folk stories and ghost stories you used to hear about back in the day? All the myths and sightings of monsters and ghosts? That was because of the barrier. It was too weak and souls would inevitably bleed out of the Deathlands. Ghosts appeared. Then some Clackers escaped and mutated into beasts like the Yeti, the Chupacabra, The Loch Ness Monster… Much like what’s happened now with this breakout of souls.”

  “So how did you solve that?”

  “Our Death, the Death you met, had the idea of secretly holding a competition between the deities. To see who would collect the most souls within a week. This allowed Death to see who was really doing their role in keeping the balance. We knew none of this of course, in case of anyone deciding to be cute and try to cheat. Death and the other Elementals, they held this universal contest. And those who won stayed on as Reapers.”

  Emily didn't want to ask but she had to. “And the ones who lost?”

  “They got killed. Peacefully mind you, but killed nonetheless. A mass clear out.”

  “Wait a minute. Reapers- You’re gods! You can’t die.”

  Chepi shrugged and leant against Emily’s head.

  “Kid, we may be hundreds of thousands of years old, but we can be just as mortal as you. No one says no to Death. All of those who served Death and the Elementals suffered greatly during those few days… We all lost those we liked and cared for. Heck, I lost siblings. Nephthys lost her twin sister, Isis. But we all knew the stakes. We knew that the world and its balance was all that mattered. So after all the mournings, culling and grief, the last of us, the seven Reapers who were left just got on with it. But somehow, in some strange turn of events, there was a draw.”

  “Between Hel and Donn, right?”

  “Yep. And that draw has been like that ever since. Neither of them have slacked off their work and their tallies were equally matched daily. Until now though. Donn’s gone on holiday. And Hel taken over his job.”

  Emily’s gut fell. “But that means Donn might die!” “Now you see why Donn’s not happy. He’s going to have to work extra hard to claw back at the gap made between himself and Hel. However, that’s what I’m unsure on. His loss of soul reaping is for a special reason, so Death may take it into consideration. But it would be in his best interest that you two resolve this mission as soon as you possibly can. He is in as much danger as you could be. What with you being at the centre of all this cuckoo-malarkey to begin with.”

  Emily sighed wearily, her mind not at all eased by this unnerving news. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  Soon, they crossed through the front doors of the House and stepped back down the grassy hill. Emily glanced up again and sure enough, she could see the dragon/griffin Clacker flying through the sky, roaring and screeching as it twisted in the air. The sky was crimson today and the sun light gave the entire area around the pier, the pier itself and even the Styx had the hue of that deep red. Emily looked at her hands and marvelled at her rouge hands. “Cool.” she remarked with a grin.

  Charon, ever diligent and attentive, awaited Donn, Chepi and Emily at the dock.

  “Rested?” he asked monotonously and monosyllabically as always.

  “Quite well!” chirped Chepi. “You’re looking as spry as ever, old sport!” She hopped off Emily’s shoulder and landed next to Charon on his boat.

  Charon groaned loudly and beckoned the others to climb aboard. Donn and Emily clambered in and Charon pushed away from the dock.

  Emily gave one last look to the dwindling House and then suddenly she could see the faint glowing outline of Death itself, floating by the entrance. Death was watching them depart. Emily gave a short wave at Death. Death made no such physical response, though Emily knew that she must have been seen. She turned around to face Donn as Charon drove them out to sea.

  The rocking of a wave moved Emily to her side. She then felt something press hard against her upper thigh. She furrowed her brow and pulled out of her trouser pocket the golden coin which Charon had loaned to her. She was about to lay it on the wood next to her, to give it back to him, but Charon stopped her with a single “No.”

  Emily looked up. “Huh? What?”

  Charon shook his head and then patted his leg, indicating an imaginary pocket. “Keep.”

  Chepi translated. “He’s saying you should keep it. That golden coin may come in useful back out there.”

  “How?” Emily asked. She fondled the coin in her fingers. It felt… good. It made her feel good. There was power coming from it. It was similar to the feeling of power from Death. This was a special coin. Following instruction, she pocketed it.

  “Eyes.” Charon stated, tapping at his own.

  “Uh…” Emily guessed. “It…gives me eyes?”

  Charon nodded. “Clarity.”

  “Guys? A little help, please?”

  Donn was too busy in his own thoughts to listen to the conversation. His eyes were on the endless horizon. His hand trailed in the water. His thoughts whirled and spun around one particular person.

  Chepi, on the other hand, was more than willing to assist the confused human. “Charon is trying to say that the coin will allow you clarity in the living world. Look.”

  Chepi fished out from her shirt a bone necklace with another golden coin attached to it. She held it out to Emily. “We Reapers all have one. That’s how we do the job. And how we are able to see ghosts.”

  “Oh. That’s right. Donn said something about that. Wait, can’t you do that already, seeing as you’re… you know, gods?”

  “Well… the rules of the universe are complicated and wacky as much as they can be. We can’t kill without permission, we can’t bring people back from the dead, we can’t make you fall in love with someone else, yadda yadda yadda… The point is, we use these coins, blessed and crafted by Death, to find forlorn ghosts and to see the death date of any and all human beings so that we are prepared. Donn and Hel, being the old-fashioned types, prefer to use those black ledgers to keep track of their marks.”

  Emily blinked. “Hold up there. ‘Death date’??”

  Chepi looked at Emily with bemusement. “Uh, yeah. Birth date, with Life’s Conceptions handling that racket. We Reaper’s got the death dates. It’s pretty simple and obvious.”

  Emily was unnerved by this new fact. “Can you see my… death date?”

  Chepi stared hard at the top of Emily’s head, just above it actually. Emily imagined a group of floating numbers hovering over her head like a sentence. Which it may as well have been. But to her surprise, Chepi shook her head, her face frowned with some confusion.

  “Nope. You don’t have one.”

  “But that’s not right. I should have one. I mean, I’m no immortal.” An idea struck her. “What if it’s because I’m here in the Deathlands?”

  “Then it really should stand out like a sore thumb. But nope. Nada. Odd. Oh well, I’m darn sure this will be all cleared up in no time!”

  That made Emily ever more curious about her situation. What Death had said about her various versions of herself in the parallel universes. All of them dead. But not her.

  If I was supposed to die, Emily theorised, is my schedule messed up to a point that Donn and even Death doesn't know when I die? What the hell… She shook her head. This was getting too much. So much of what had happened to her was getting too much.

  She patted the coin within her leg’s fabric, secure in the fact that she was certain on some facts. Maybe the coin could be useful after all. We’ll just have to see how.

  Much later, Emily saw their train station with their train carriage materialising from the water. Not too far off from it was another station with another carriage waiting silently.

  “There’s my way.” Chepi smiled whilst pointing to the adjacent station.

  Charon docked up and Donn stepped off with Emily. Chepi remained seated. “I’ll be seeing you guys soon! Hopefully and not hopefully, if you know what I mean!” She waved to them.

  Emily nodded with a smile and stepped abroad the train with Donn.

  The doors slid shut and the carrier rocked slightly as it began to move away. Emily watched the waves form in the wake of the carriage’s journey as its head cleaved its way through the purple-rouge sea.

  Donn and Emily found their seats and sat opposite to one another. Donn leant against the window and looked out over the sea that passed them. He sighed to himself.

  Emily watched him while she thought about the information that Chepi saw fit to bestow her.

  “We’ll get back here, Donn.” Emily said in an attempt to reassure. “This shouldn't take too long.”

  Donn sighed again through his teeth. “It’s not that. I’m not worried about my existence, Emily. Everything has its time and everything has to die…”

  “How do you know I was talking about that?”

  “I could hear you two chattering away behind me. You’re like a pair of jittering swallows.”

  “Oh.”

  “As I was saying, that’s not what’s on my mind. So it’s fine, I’m alright.”

  “How can you be alright about losing your own life so easily? Doesn’t that scare you?”

  Donn turned his head to Emily and fixed her with a stern look.

  “I’m a Reaper, Emily. I have seen what awaits me on the other side many times over. I don't have a fear of the unknown for I know what to expect. I just do what I can the best way I can.”

  “And you’re happy if Hel takes your job? Just like that, without even a fight?”

  “I didn't say I was happy. I would very much like to keep my job. But if I can’t, I can’t. There’s no other way to see that. And why are you so involved all of a sudden? I thought you didn't care about any of this.”

  “I didn't say that either. I do care. I mean, you saved my life. And I frankly think you’re a better suit to the role than Hel. She spooks me a little.”

  Donn made a half smile. “Hmph. Best don't let her hear you say that. She won’t be impressed.” “Let her. I’m not scared of her.”

  Donn sighed again. “Oh Emily, you really should be…”

  The windows outside darkened as they left the Deathlands.

  Emily leant back, deciding to send her mind to another thought. “Hey Donn, any thoughts about these five souls? You wonder who they could be?”

  “No. They’re souls that need to be corralled back home. These things have happened before. We’ll be back before we know it. And as for their identities? They are clouded to me. Ghosts do not adhere to the same rules that living souls live by.”

  Emily cocked her head and rubbed her eyes to understand the craziness of this whole journey. “But why are they connected to me? Why my family? Why mine? And what Death said about my other selves in those other timelines and dimensions or whatever… those me’s died that same night… I should be dead. I don't even have a death date. What’s going on here?”

  Donn shrugged to hide his mutual concern. He’d rather not show Emily how worried he really was for the state of the world. He dreaded to see what the living world was looking like after such a gash was made in the fabric of reality. “It’s hard to say. All we can do is get the souls back, then we can work out the reasons why. And who knows? Maybe we’ll get our answers in the land of the living?”

  “Yeah… the land of the living…" Emily looked at Donn with a curious expression. "Wait! Am I dead then, to the rest of the world? If we go back, are we, like, ghosts to people?”

  “No, we’ll be as physical as one can be… just best not let on to people what your job is though. Some people just aren't ready to learn about the afterlife. It tends to mess with people’s heads. They’ll think you are mad or high, then they’ll try and lock you up. Which frankly, I do not want.”

  “Fair enough.” Emily perked up. “So does this make me a Reaper now?”

  Donn choked a single laugh. “HA! You are an intern, Emily. Don’t get ahead of yourself now.”

  Emily laughed. “All right. Man, I’m famished. Want something to snack on?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  “Alrighty. Twix for me then!” She bent down and opened her rucksack. She leapt back with a yelp. “Whoa!”

  Donn looked to her in mild curiosity, then his face shifted in surprise as his eyes glanced at the rucksack. “What in the name of Creation?”

  The Clacker Fresca popped her head from within the rucksack and clacked at Emily with a cheeky sound.

  “Fresca?!” Emily cried out.

  “Oh no…no, no, no…” Donn fell back into his seat and laid a hand over his tired face. “Just what we needed… This is not happening.” He rubbed his mouth and rolled back his eyes.

  “How- How did you get in there!?” Emily barked as she lifted Fresca out of her bag like a much-maligned pet cat. Fresca clacked repeatedly in a chirrup. Emily, holding the Clacker in her hands, leant to see Donn. “Uh, what is she saying?”

  Donn with his hand over his eyes in a resigned body language. He seemed to have suck into his seat. “She said that your bag looked warm and cosy. In her defence, she says, she didn't know you were actually leaving the Deathlands.”

  “What do we do now? Should we turn back?”

  “We’re on the clock, Emily. We have to bring her with us now.”

  “But, look at her! How are we supposed to hide her from people… She’s a damn skeleton-” Emily’s words drifted away as she looked at Fresca, who was now changing before her eyes.

  Fresca’s head had shrunk down from a fox-sized head to a smaller creature. Her whole skeletal for had changed and once that was done, muscle and skin and fur began to grow from her boney surfaces. The change continued for only a minute until Fresca was a white shorthair cat with purple eyes, playfully dangling in Emily’s hands. However, Fresca still kept her unique scar upon the left side of her head that now drove a crevice in her white fur and over her still functioning eye.

  Fresca meowed as Emily, so utterly bewildered by the chain of events that had taken place around her to the point that she could only be nonplussed at this new development, gently let down the Clacker as much as she could. Fresca hopped up next to Donn and started licking her paws with a small purr. Donn made a slanted smile at Emily. “Does that answer your question?”

  Emily rubbed the back of her head and allowed herself another impressed and flummoxed laugh.