Becoming Death (18 page)

The place the app brought me to looked like the perfect place for a murder. The concrete building was being suffocated by a mixture of moss and vines growing around it, although the light coming from the front door suggested it was still open for business. A sign hanging dangerously by one rusty hook read
The Fountain of Youth Gym
. I glanced again at the woman with bright purple hair and horn-rimmed glasses on my screen, wondering why she would ever come to this place.

I pulled out my gym bag from the back seat and headed for the door. Outfit changes were becoming part of my new secret persona, even if couldn’t change in super speed like Skye Hawke. The front door was sticky when I opened it; I tried to shake a pink liquid from my hand.

A woman older than dirt itself sat behind a counter knitting what looked like a scarf. She adjusted her glasses when she saw me and put down her needles.

“Hi, can I get a one day membership please?” I said, removing a lonely $20 note from my wallet.

“Aren’t you a bit young, dear? Got some proof of your age?”

I stood up proudly and pulled my ID out of my wallet. “I’m an adult.”

She cleared her throat and waved her hand at me. “This facility is reserved for seniors only. No one under fifty-five is allowed inside.”

I scrunched up my nose. “Why? I just want to swim.”

“So do us oldies. We don’t want to have to look at firm young things; our bodies aren’t what they used to be. We promote positive body images for the elderly. It’s hard to do that around you youngins.”

“Can I at least speak to my friend, Betsy Mills? She left something when we had a coffee earlier, I just want to give it back.”

She tapped her nails on the counter. “I see no harm in that.” She picked up a phone and hit a button before her voice echoed over a loudspeaker. “Betsy Mills, please report to reception. That is Betsy Mills to the front desk, please. You have a visitor.”

“Oh, I can go find her myself,” I assured her.

“Have a seat, she’ll be out in a minute.”

I forced a smile and dug into my gym bag for something to give Betsy. My aunt’s warning about not drawing attention to myself echoed in my brain.

A woman wearing a swim cap with plastic flowers and a pink robe approached the desk. “That old bag, Helena, said you called me.”

The receptionist pointed a bony finger at me. “You have a visitor.”

I waved and stood up, carrying over a plastic water bottle.

“What? Speak up, dear, I don’t have my hearing aid in!” Betsy shouted. “Who are you?”

“You forgot this.” I pushed the bottle into Betsy’s hand and touched her winkled palm before she could answer.

Her memories flowed into me slower than normal, lingering on each thought for a few seconds. Her as a child on a rope swing, her visiting the ocean for the first time in her twenties, her competing in a surfing contest and her teaching a baby to swim.

“What’s this for?” Betsy asked.

I backed away quickly, running for the door. “Enjoy.”

“What? Did I win something?” Betsy asked the receptionist.

I’d made it to my car before either of them made it to the door. One down, one to go.

My final appointment of the day was at a local veterinary clinic called The Paws’ Clinic. The building was a tiny lavender cottage in the middle of suburbia. It had a white picket fence and a better garden than my mother’s. The atmosphere raised my mood, until I remembered why I was here.

The office was crowded and the receptionist looked frazzled as she tried to deal with a disorderly group of pet owners. I scanned the people in the waiting room, looking for Melanie’s blue hair and full lips. Nothing. I checked the app again, seeing the blinking coffin icon hovering over the clinic. She was definitely here. I double-checked the receptionist was still dealing with the crowd and headed through a door marked private before making my way cautiously down a hallway filled with exam rooms. The last door was closed and marked staff only. I took a deep breath as I turned the knob.

A woman with blue hair looked up from the microscope on her desk filled with miniature plastic horses and family photos. “Can I help you?” Her accent was foreign, probably British.

I winced, searching for an excuse. “Sorry, there was no one at the desk and I need to get some of that special food for my cat. Sassy’s on a calorie controlled diet.”

She left her desk and wandered past a shiny tray of sharp tools.

My eyes widened.

She motioned back towards the hallway. “Sorry, I’m busy in here. If you wait at the main desk, someone there will be able to help you. Just give them a few minutes.”

I ignored her. The body of a black and white cat was in the corner. I walked towards it. “Is it dead?”

She looked downwards. “Yeah, she was one of our regulars.”

“What happened to her?” I asked, moving closer to Melanie so I could mark her.

She ran her hand along the matted fur of the animal. “Poor Ping. She liked to chase cars, if you can believe it.”

“That sucks,” I said. There was a dent in the cat’s skull, bone peeking out. I felt sick to my stomach.

Melanie stepped towards the door and held it open for me. “I need to get back to work. I’m sure the main desk can help you.”

I smiled before pretending to trip into her. She grabbed my wrist, helping me steady myself. “Careful now, no more accidents today.”

Her memory flash was quick. Dissecting a frog in science class, watching TV with her cat, Mini, in her lap, and attending her first day of veterinary school.

“Thanks, I’ll try to be more careful in the future,” I said, unable to take another breath before she closed the door behind me.

I only got a few more steps before I heard a loud shriek and something clatter on the other side of the door. I flew back through the door to find Melanie lying on the floor. Surgical tools were embedded in her legs, chest and neck. Blood flowed from her wounds, creating a halo of red around her dark blue hair. Between the tools, the formerly dead Ping stood on top of her with a smug look of satisfaction in her eye. The cat hissed at me, patting its claws into its victim. A chill ran down my spine as I backed away from the scene and passed the crowd in the waiting room. I had to get out of here, before someone saw me.

My mother waited on us as we sat around the table for the weekly family brunch. She had wheeled out her embarrassing green and orange seventies-style serving cart that she always used for special occasions. Today it held wine glasses filled with orange juice and a variety of finger sandwiches. All lovingly prepared by hand, of course.

“What are we celebrating?” asked Aunt Jessica as she took a sip from the glass my mother had handed to her. She frowned. “Ann Marie, don’t you have something to make this stronger?”

My mother sighed and ignored her sister. “A little birdie told me someone has some exciting news they want to share with us,” she said, continuing to push her cart around the room.

“Well, let’s hear it then,” my grandmother said.

I wondered how she had found out about my new job. The check to pay back her loan was burning a hole in my pocket. “I…” I started.

“I got a new job at a different firm,” Clarissa interrupted me.

I coughed to hide my embarrassment. “Wow, that was quick.”

She fiddled with the lip of her wine glass. “It turns out the company was headhunting me for a promotion one level higher than my last firm. They had been looking into my background for a while and luckily decided now was the perfect time to finally approach me.”

“Wonderful,” my grandmother said. She took a swig of her orange juice.

My mother nudged her. “That’s not the only news.”

I shifted uncomfortably as I watched my sister bask in her achievement.

Clarissa bit her bottom lip. “Oh, well, this job comes at a very fortunate time as I’m also pregnant.”

Jessica touched her face. “Look at you. Haven’t you been busy? Next you’ll be saying you’re getting married.”

I shook my head at my aunt, worried she would upset Clarissa.

“It’s alright,” Clarissa reassured me. “Aunt Jessica, I’m afraid the father isn’t in the picture, but I’m alright with that. I can do this on my own.”

“What about this new job? Won’t they be worried about losing you after you have the baby?” Jessica asked.

“As I said, I’ve been very fortunate. They were very understanding of my new responsibilities during the contract negotiations. They wanted my input into the team so badly they were willing to grant me extended maternity leave. Plus when that finishes they have a excellent nursery on site, so I’ll be able to be close to the baby when I end up going back to work.”

My mother held Clarissa’s shoulders, shaking them slightly. “I am so proud of how well you have handled all of this pressure. Losing your job and carrying a baby could have been stressful, but you’ve handled it so well.”

I tapped my foot under the table, trying to get my mother’s attention. “Clarissa isn’t the only one with a new job. I got one too, Mom.”

“It’s about time. Good for you, Madison, but this your sister’s moment.” She turned back to Clarissa. “Have you thought about names yet?”

I crumpled my napkin.

My grandmother, sensing my embarrassment, asked, “What’s your new job?”

“I’m a mourner at funerals,” I explained to her.

She wrinkled her eyebrows. “Is that a job now? In my day people did that for free.”

“Sounds strange,” said Aunt Jessica.

“It’s not as bad as you think. We work for people who won’t have many guests at their funeral. Fill the seats, make the dead feel valued.”

Aunt Jessica tilted her head. “How would they know? They’re dead.”

“It’s about giving them that peace of mind before their death”

My grandmother scratched the table. “Well congratulations anyway, dear. It sounds like a suitable job for a reaper. It will be a good cover for you.”

“That’s not why I took it. I think it helps the people the dead leave behind. It makes a real difference to people seeing all the seats full for their loved ones,” I said.

“I’m sure it does,” Aunt Jessica said. “So, Clarissa, what are we naming this baby?”

I pulled out my phone hoping for a text from Aaron on my way home from my mother's. I sighed as I realized although I had a message, I also had another victim to collect a soul from. The New Client screen looked different than normal with the word urgent blinking underneath it. I rubbed my forehead and opened the client information.

Name: Lily Peterson

Age: Unborn

Current location: On route to St Jude’s hospital

Additional instructions: Baby’s soul to be removed from mother Amy Peterson’s body.

I leaned back in my car seat, taking in the gravity of my next victim’s death. A stillborn baby. When I had started as a reaper, I had never thought I would be forced to take the soul of anyone truly young. I had assumed someone must take the souls of the babies and children but that kind of thing was handled by experienced, specialized reapers.

I thought of my sister. Clarissa had spent most of the weekend discussing her pregnancy plans with my mother. Was our family being punished for creating life instead of death? I was ashamed of this request. Death wanted me to end Lily Peterson’s life before it could even begin. I thought about not going, letting Lily have time to be born, but I knew if I stayed another reaper would be called to do the dirty work.