Don't Fear the Reaper (11 page)

“Answer me! I can’t believe Banning would offer such a thing. He doesn’t even know me. And besides, I thought suicide was a sin against my soul—I even heard you say it.”

“Do I look like judge and jury? I’m just the hundred and ninety pound demon in the room.”

“You’re impossible!” I turned to watch for Banning. I felt sick. “How can he make such a deal? It’s bad enough that I’m going to hell, but do I have to take someone else with me?”

After a moment, Daniel spoke. “He’s basing his case on the one thing everyone involved knows is true—and that’s what really killed you.”

That was easy. Blood loss coupled with an overdose of sleeping pills. “I already know what killed me, Daniel. Me. No one else.”

“Yeah, well, Banning’s a reaper. Sometimes, they get these
crazy
ideas in their heads.”

Banning appeared from around the corner, his duster billowing softly behind him. He no longer had his hood raised, and he’d returned the scythe back behind him, where I assumed it would remain unseen until he needed it again. In this world, I imagined he called for it a lot. He gave Daniel a hard glare, but when he turned to me, only concern and kindness shone in his eyes. I felt a small sting of guilt that we’d left him at the hospice center.

“Are you okay, Keely?”

“Yeah,” I said, lowering my head. I couldn’t look at him after I’d run off without telling him first. In hindsight, ditching him had been a stupid and selfish thing to do, especially after what I’d learned about the deal he’d made.

He glanced at my bleeding arm and my torn pant leg.

“So, I can still bleed. Who knew?” I scoffed weakly. I wiped at my arm. The pain—the physical part of it—made me feel like I belonged more in the world of the living than the dead.

Banning lifted my chin, getting a better look at my busted lip. “You handled yourself pretty well back there.” He never mentioned how he had handled
himself
, never mentioned what he’d done when Daniel and I hadn’t been around to witness it. I guess banishing souls was just another day’s work for him.

“Thanks,” I said. “For coming for me, I mean.”

“Let’s get you back to the house.” Banning turned and casually walked away.

Daniel hung back, letting Banning and me walk ahead. I’d gotten off easy, but I suspected Banning wouldn’t be as easy on Daniel later, once I was out of earshot. Neither of them said anything more, and I sensed the need to fill the space. Better to get it into the open now rather than later.

“How did you know where to find me?” I asked as we waited for the right car to stop. I felt like such a screw-up—again.

Banning scanned the road. “You’re not the only one who’s ever needed closure, Keely. A lot of people go to the morgue or to funeral homes, either for affirmation, or to wait for a loved one.”

Banning finally spotted our ride—a white Ford minivan. Daniel made his way around to the other side, while Banning waited for me to get in before sliding through the front passenger door.

I hadn’t been very cooperative and I wouldn’t blame Banning for being angry with me. But, he didn’t seem angry. Just disappointed. “Why not send me to hell like you did that girl back there?”

“Not that easy,” Daniel said, staring out the car window.

Banning sat and listened. I hated that Daniel had been the one to answer. I didn’t like Banning’s continued silence. I hated being such a huge disappointment to him. That’s what bothered me the most. He understood why I’d done it, which made me all the more miserable for not telling him where we were going when we’d left the hospice center. To top it all off, he’d put up his soul for collateral on a bet he couldn’t win.

“I’m sorry, we left you at the hospice center, Banning. Guess I’m still sort of freaked out. It’s not like I don’t know I’m dead. I’m not delusional. I know there’s no turning back.” I felt a tightening in my throat. “I mean, dead is forever.”

“I understand, Keely,” Banning said quietly. “I’ve been where you are. Death can be difficult to accept.”

I almost wanted him to be mad at me—even a little. This was a far cry from what my parents would have done. I would’ve never heard the end of it. “So that’s it? You’re not going to yell at me?”

“Why would I do that?” Banning asked.

“It’s because of the deal, isn’t it?” I blurted out. “Please don’t blame Daniel. Why, Banning? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Despite the hum of the motor and the outside noises, I could’ve heard a pin drop. A discomforting silence stretched between Daniel and Banning and I wondered if I should have said anything. Banning didn’t say a word. Not to me and not to Daniel. He just sat in the front seat, eyes forward. The dusty glint of late afternoon sunlight filtering through the windshield made him appear older than I imagined he really was, yet he was as handsome as ever. As I studied his expression, the lines in his face, I realized that for someone I should trust above anyone else in purgatory, for someone who’d risked everything for me, I knew next to nothing about him. Why had he made such a deal?

I don’t know what you see in her, Banning...

I was like you. I had a family...

He had never explained it any more than that, leaving me to wonder what happened. How he died and how he became a reaper. The mystery that was Banning reminded me of an old book tucked into the farthest crevices of a library shelf; dusty and forgotten, his painful memories cast in ink and meant for no one else to see, but committed to fragile paper nonetheless.

“This deal is about more than just me, isn’t it?”

“There’s a lot to explain, Keely.” Banning’s voice remained soft and calm. Only the
swooosh
of the occasional passing vehicle broke the stillness inside the car. His gaze didn’t falter from whatever he saw through the windshield. I thought it had little to do with the way the sun had started to dip into the horizon or the cars in front of us, and more to do with the memories locked behind those forever-blue eyes of his.

“We’ll talk about the deal. Later.” Banning looked tired and every bit as worn as I felt. “Let’s get back to the house first,” he said. “You should rest a bit. We’ll talk this evening after your parents settle in for the night.”

Rest might be a good thing, if not for me, then for him. But would he rest? Or would he stay awake, fearful I’d take off again?

Life, or the afterlife, was different now. While I hadn’t been thrilled with how things were before I died, this thrilled me even less. Unfortunately, going back wasn’t an option, and standing still wasn’t going to get me anywhere. If Banning found a way to take everything in stride, then so could I.

Yeah. If only I could find courage in my lies.

I probably should have kept my mouth shut. Despite Banning’s calm and his seemingly parental behavior toward me, I’d probably pushed him enough. I certainly didn’t deserve his kindness, this deal he’d made. So why did I feel the need to ask one more thing? Because, as my sister would have said, anything else just wouldn’t have been me.

“Why?” I asked. “Why would you do such a thing for me?”

Banning sighed, and it was the loneliest sound—like a midnight breeze in a graveyard. After a moment’s contemplation he offered his weary response. “Because you remind me of someone.”

On the way back, I insisted on visiting a couple of neighborhood friends in case Jordan was there. She wasn’t. No one was home at either Kristen’s or Zach’s, and wandering through their houses when they weren’t there seemed too much like snooping or breaking and entering, so we went back to my house.

Exhaustion had seeped into every part of me by the time we got back home and I wanted to rest for a while. Besides, sitting around watching my parents grieve only worsened my guilt. Still, I lingered in the living room for a moment. Mom and Dad were curled up on the sofa to watch television.

Aunt Jen was there, too. She snatched the remote off the coffee table. “News is too depressing.” She flipped through channels, finally deciding on a sitcom rerun, probably hoping the humor might quench some of the despair in the room. But my parents didn’t even seem to notice.

After Banning and Daniel assured me they’d stay clear of my parents and Aunt Jen, I trudged upstairs. Despite my uncertainties, my blissful ignorance of the ways of the afterlife, I had to admit they hadn’t done a thing to hurt me or my parents either, though they both had the opportunity and the ability.

I stayed in Jordan’s room again instead of mine. If she came home while I slept, she’d know where I’d be. I worried about her. Did Jordan have someone to guide her along like Banning and Daniel, or was she alone? She’d been alone at the morgue. At least, Tim hadn’t mentioned anyone being with her.

I thought about all the earthbounds Daniel said were unstable and squeezed my eyes closed tightly, trying not to think of my sister among them. My body ached and flickers of light sparkled behind my tired eyelids. My thoughts became more disjointed and less important as my breathing slowed. I wondered if demons or reapers ever slept. Apparently, ghosts did, because before long, I let go of everything and succumbed to wonderful, peaceful sleep.

I awoke sometime after midnight and found Banning and Daniel on the back deck, talking and star gazing. Other than the occasional light breeze rustling the leaves or the distant wail of a siren, the night remained quiet. The moon hung low in the sky, nested in a veil of iron gray clouds.

Banning patted the empty chair. “Come, sit. I think it’s time I filled you in on a few things.”

“You mean this deal?” I said, taking the seat.

Banning nodded.

I chewed at my lip for a minute. “About that…Daniel says you think something else killed me?”

Again, Banning nodded.

I frowned. “But what? I already—”

“Love,” he said. “Love is what killed you.”

I blinked, tried to wrap my brain around that. “
What?
”

Daniel leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Yeah, I don’t think the medical examiner is going to put that in his report.”

“It’s what the committee thinks that counts,” Banning added.

“Who’s this committee?” I asked.

“High ranking angels and demons. Reps from both sides, you might say. Probably God and Lucifer for all we know,” Daniel replied. “Come on down, Keely Morrison! It’s your turn for judgment day.”

Banning didn’t laugh. “ME’s report or not, it’s what I used as an argument on why you shouldn’t be sent to hell.”

My mind reeled with this information. “How exactly does this help me?” It was a stretch—even for the most talented of attorneys, much less a reaper going up against some ethereal, all powerful judge and jury of the afterlife. “Love? I don’t get it. That’s a really weak defense.”

Banning smiled. “Definitely your father’s daughter. You’d have made a good lawyer.”

Me? A lawyer? No way. I’d heard enough lawyer jargon to last me a lifetime. I still had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Reality set in, and I let out a small huff. Correction.
After
life. I didn’t see many help-wanted posters in purgatory. What did it matter, anyway? I wasn’t going to become
anything
. As far as I could tell, only angels, demons, and reapers had jobs and I didn’t think they got paid.

“What did you do before you died?” I asked Banning. “Before you became a reaper? Were you some kind of negotiator? An attorney?” I wouldn’t have been surprised. Banning’s ability to read people amazed me. Whatever his profession in life, he should have been a psychoanalyst.

Daniel flashed a chilling smile again, the one that meant he knew something and wasn’t telling.

I hated that smile. “You sure seem to know a lot.”

“That’s because Banning and I go back a ways.” Daniel’s grin widened.

The smile he wore unnerved me. When Jordan and I were young, Mom read to us before bed. I remember
Alice in Wonderland
giving me the creeps. I hated it because Alice wound up in this horrible place so unlike anything in her real world that it was totally freakish. Right now, Alice and I had a lot in common, except no one served me tea and the Hatter wasn’t the only one going mad.

“It doesn’t matter what I did before,” Banning replied.

“It does!” I got out of my chair and took a place along the deck railing. “I’m going to hell in a few days unless you’ve got some plan up your sleeve, and I’m not the only one at risk here. It’s
your
soul, too.”

I inhaled deeply, and my lungs ached as though the air contained small daggers. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m scared, Banning. If I’m going to hell, if you don’t have a plan, then tell me!”

Banning leaned forward and sighed. I took a seat again.

“I was a doctor,” he said. “Not a lawyer. Not a magician. But I know a few things about your situation. In fact, I know them very well indeed.”

He rubbed his hands together. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked truly sad, beaten almost. Not at all like a powerful being who took souls on a regular basis. I glanced at Daniel, expecting some wisecrack about a reaper who was once a doctor, but he sat quietly.

“Just a regular M.D. Not a surgeon or a specialist,” Banning said with a small laugh. “A doctor who once swore an oath to heal, to save lives, now takes them.”

I couldn’t imagine why Banning had become a reaper after having been a doctor—to go from someone so respected to something so hated. I’d gone from loser to an even bigger loser in one last breath. Banning had gone from revered to feared. The pain in his expression was clearly evident so I didn’t press it. Right then, I didn’t need to know. Not now, and maybe not ever. Something awful had happened to Banning and he didn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s okay.” I spoke in as caring a voice as possible, sounding oddly like Banning himself had last night. “I’m sure you’ve got a plan. A really good one.”