Don't Fear the Reaper (16 page)

“What’s the deal with Daniel?” I asked. “Are you two friends or enemies or what?”

“He’s okay,” Banning said. “A bit annoying and stubborn at times, and he’s got a chip on his shoulder a mile wide, but he’s a good kid.” Banning’s eyes narrowed a bit, “Who’s probably off elsewhere and up to a little mischief at the moment.”

“Think he gave up on me?” I asked.

Banning grinned. “No, Keely. I’m afraid not.”

“Think his disappearance has something to do with the raven at the window?” I already suspected Banning had been talking to Daniel—especially since it involved demons.

Banning’s smile faded. “I hope not.”

“What happened?” I didn’t know how else to ask how the dead communicated with birds.

“We’ll talk later, okay? When the time is closer.” Banning stood and moved toward the window. “Your dad and aunt are back.”

Outside, car doors slammed and I got up to peer out the window. My dad helped with my grandparents’ luggage. Dad looked pretty rough. His clothes were badly wrinkled and it appeared that he hadn’t shaved for a couple days. Aunt Jen carried dinner in a take-out bag from what used to be my favorite Chinese restaurant.
Used
to be because I wouldn’t ever be going there again.
Used
to be because I’d never taste food again.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I asked. “The reason the raven came to find you in the middle of the night.”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Does it have to do with me?”

“We should go. We’ll wait for Daniel outside. It’s getting pretty crowded in here at the moment. We’ll return tonight when everyone’s asleep.”

His non-answer was answer enough. Right when I thought the afterlife couldn’t get much worse, it had. “I so hate this,” I said as I followed Banning through the back door.

As we sat outside and waited for Daniel’s return, I asked Banning more questions about how things worked in the afterlife, hoping against hope for some angle, some loophole to make everything right again with Banning and his wife. Some loophole to keep me from going to hell. I might as well have tried to predict the future or stop all the injustices of the world with the snap of a finger. Now, my only hope was finding my sister and trusting that Banning’s plan would work out for the both of us.

I’d been so wound up in myself and my fate that I’d nearly forgotten I wasn’t the only soul at stake here. Daniel had warned me that he’d have to do everything within his power to make sure I failed. And yet, by telling me, he’d already disobeyed orders. I guess Daniel wasn’t so bad after all. Well, once I got past his moodiness and his perpetual shortage of tact.

I wondered if Banning had thought the same thing I had—this whole deal didn’t feel right. Banning hadn’t said anything more about my case or my trial, or whatever it was they did here. He seemed busy enough just keeping track of me and doing his reaperly duties. As long as I didn’t do anything stupid—which meant as long as I stayed clear of the scumbag who killed my sister—I had a chance to stay out of hell. My heart went out to Banning; all he had a chance of was staying a reaper until someone else wanted his job. I hadn’t exactly noticed a long line of applicants.

If Banning went to hell with me, would he ever see his family again? I wondered what Banning’s wife thought of me. Maybe that’s what they’d been talking about.

“Red velvet cake,” Banning said, catching my sullen mood. He was good at that. Too good. “That’s the food I miss the most. It used to be my favorite. Laura made it every year around the holidays, and every year for my birthday.”

There were so many things I missed already that I didn’t think it possible to name them all. “Holiday sweets or year-round?” I asked. “Because if it’s holiday food, then I’m going with gingerbread—cake, not cookies. Otherwise, hands down, it’s brownies, undercooked, made with butter, not oil, and with extra syrup and chips. We called them wicked brownies. Mom got the recipe from someone on a message board.”

“Brownies would be my second choice,” Banning said. “Warm. With a scoop of vanilla ice cream.”

The early evening sun had started to set, and I rubbed my arms against the slightly cooler breeze that greeted us. I could feel cold, heat, pain. I could dream. But I’d never taste Mom’s wicked brownies again. We’d never race to the oven to take them out or put glasses of milk in the freezer for a few minutes. We’d never sit in front of the TV with a rented movie. Wow. Reason five thousand, two-hundred and fifty-six why purgatory sucked.

I supposed Mom wouldn’t be up to baking anytime soon. There’d be a lot more take out food in my parents’ future. In a few months, the holidays would be here. Mom probably wouldn’t make gingerbread. Not this year. One thing seemed certain—the annual family gathering wasn’t likely to be at our house. Aunt Jen might take over, but I couldn’t envision Mom hosting a party for the vast number of relatives we had. I’d managed to ruin yet one more thing in my mother’s life—Christmas, which had been her favorite holiday. She loved everything about it. Last year, she had two daughters to celebrate it with. This year, she had none.

“Right now, I’d even eat brussel sprouts if I could taste them,” Banning kidded.

I grimaced. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Banning laughed. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Banning?”

He looked at me, expectantly.

“How long did it take you to stop wondering what your life would have been like?”

“I never
have
stopped thinking about it,” he replied. “Although not as much as I did at first. I’d like to believe Laura and I would have lived a long life together. That my daughter would have grown up, gone off to college, and returned home—maybe she’d have lived close enough that we could see our grandchildren. Maybe when I retired, Laura and I would have bought a small cabin in the woods by a lake, where we’d sit and reminisce.”

“It’s weird to think they’re going to bury me in a couple days,” I said. “That I’ll be in a casket in the ground.”

“Claustrophobic?” he kidded.

His first attempt at a joke took me off guard. I grinned. “No, not really. But, yeah, about this, sorta.”

“If you could go back and do one thing differently, other than undo your sister’s death, what would it be?” he asked.

I smiled, thinking of what it would be like to grow old. “I’d sit on the front porch of a cabin in the woods and tell
my
grandchildren about happier times.” My response got another round of laughter from Banning. “You?” I asked.

“I’d go ballroom dancing with my wife. She loved to dance.” Banning made a motion with his arms, pretending to waltz with an unseen partner.

The image made me smile.

“Or mountain climbing. More manly,” he said with a quiet laugh. “In photos, gazing across the valleys from the mountain top always seemed the epitome of peaceful. Like you could look down on all your troubles.”

My life could have been many things. I’d thought of most of them while I stared at my body in the morgue. But the time for that had passed. Now, I had to figure out what to do over the next few days. Anything beyond that depended on where I ended up.

Banning smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. While I couldn’t tell what else was going on, eyes being the windows to the soul or not, I bet he was also talking to get his mind off the deal he’d made. I wondered if he regretted it. I smiled back at him, doing my best to appear happy, or at least happ
ier
. And, oddly enough, talking about our lives helped. The image of me as an old, gnarled and arthritic woman, sitting in one of the rockers at the hospice center flashed through my head. I could see myself talking to my grandchildren, telling them stories of my youth before an angel of death asked
me
to dance.

Banning looked past my shoulder. I twirled around in my chair to catch sight of Daniel walking up the steps to the deck.

“Where were you?” I asked.

“Nowhere,” he answered, and I knew he was lying. If there was a nowhere, I’d have already found it. He shrugged. “Around.”

A group of crows swooped into the yard cawing and collected in one of the oaks. My attention swung back to Banning.

“Think it’s more on the skip?” Daniel asked.

Banning nodded. “Yep. Your side.”

“So we should expect visitors,” Daniel said. It wasn’t a question.

“Don’t let Keely out of your sight,” Banning told him, and his eyes grew cold, like winter ice.

The hair raised on the back of my neck. “What’s a skip?” I asked. “Is this what the other bird warned you about?”

“Yes, it is. A skip is a problem soul who needs to cross before he affects the living any further,” Banning clarified.

“Further?” I asked.

Banning was already halfway down the steps. Daniel nudged me, and I followed him.

“Most are my kind,” Daniel explained. “That is, destined for my neck of the Twilight Zone or full-fledged demons. But there are a few other souls who actually mean well. But, this guy isn’t one of them.”

“So Banning’s job tonight is like a bounty hunter?” I asked. “Really? Why is that a reaper’s job?”

We walked down the street looking for a ride. It was early evening and most people were coming home from work, not leaving.

“No one else has ever applied for the job,” Banning said.

“And reapers are the only ones who carry a scythe,” Daniel added. “Which is the only thing that can send a demon or a wayward earthbound to hell.”

I checked out Banning’s duster. I didn’t see any sign of the scythe that had taken out Metal Girl, and I didn’t think I wanted to, either. I imagined the sight we were. That was, if the living could see us. We avoided a kid on a skateboard and kept walking out of the cul-de-sac and onto a busier street where we turned left.

“Is this going to be anything like that girl back at the morgue?” I asked. “It sounded really painful. What you did to her, I mean.”

“It’s worse than anything a soul has ever experienced,” Banning said.

“Worse?”
I said, horrified.

“Emotionally and physically,” Banning replied.

“There’s a few more things about reapers you don’t know,” Daniel said. “Things most souls never learn. Lucky you. You’re getting a front row seat.”

The worst pain I’d ever felt, aside from Jordan’s death and having my parents find my body, had been when I’d slit my wrist. If it was worse than that, I could understand where most earthbounds wouldn’t want to give a reaper cause to come find them and forcibly send them along.

“So who’s the skip?”

“A murderer,” Banning said, keeping up his breakneck pace. “Stick close to Daniel and don’t wander off.”

“I’ll be okay, I’ll stay clear,” I said.

Banning and Daniel exchanged glances. I hated when they did that. “What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Daniel said.

I frowned. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Neither answered me, but I didn’t see the problem. I was just an earthbound, not a mortal any longer. If the bad-ass soul we were searching for was causing problems for anyone alive, what did I have to do with it? Unless he didn’t care
who
he hurt. Maybe they were worried I’d get caught in the crossfire just by being in the proximity. Great. I’d just finished healing from my last afterlife run-in.

We caught up to a car waiting to turn across traffic onto the main road from our subdivision.

“So Daniel is going to keep me safe from whomever you’re after?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Daniel said as we got into the car. “This guy carries a mean grudge. Not to mention, there’s the demons.”

“Demons sent to pick other demons aren’t exactly thrilled with their jobs,” Daniel explained. “It’s almost like being a traitor of sorts. So, any earthbounds hanging around at the time are fair game for a beat down.”

“And that’d be me, naturally.” I swallowed hard. “So, all I need to do is stay clear of the guy and some random demons, right?” No matter how calm I tried to sound about this, I was far from it. What I wanted was to be as far from the action as possible. Like staying home.

“More or less,” Banning replied. His comment did little to reassure me. “Sorry, but you’re coming along,” he added, seeming to read my thoughts.

I nodded. It was a matter of trust. I’d taken off before. Banning wasn’t going to risk me ditching him again. For that matter, he probably didn’t want Daniel too far from his sight, either. Which explained why Banning didn’t leave us back at the house.

“So who’s the murderer? Does he have a name?” I asked as we got out of the car.

“Might as well tell her,” Daniel said with a shrug.

“Cooper,” Banning said as he walked ahead. “Rick Cooper.”

My mouth fell open. I knew this guy. Well, knew of him. He’d pretty much threatened our whole family at his sentencing over a year go. Eight months later, Cooper died during a fight with another inmate. “
The
Rick Cooper? The guy who killed a bunch of his coworkers? The guy my Dad helped send to death row?”

“One and the same,” Daniel replied.

Our ride only took us up past the Outlet Mall off GA-400, and while we walked the rest of the way to the job, Banning and Daniel filled me in on all the sordid details about Cooper’s afterlife run-ins and how reapers banished souls. I didn’t mind that we’d been walking for close to an hour. Being dead had one benefit—exercise didn’t feel the same. I was already in shape, but Banning’s pace was quick enough that by now I’d have been a little sweaty even in the cool evening air.

We didn’t come across any traffic—not this far north of the suburbs. Every once in awhile, though, a car or two passed us. How many campfire stories had I listened to about ghostly hitchhikers on deserted stretches of highway? Now, I’d become one of those hitchhikers. Despite my misgivings about our mission, the thought almost made me smile.

Lights from the homes set back in the woods shone like beacons through the dark. Otherwise, nothing else was out here except dense woods, open cow fields and a two-lane stretch of road. We passed a family of raccoons, their eyes haloing like small searchlights as they scampered across the road and disappeared into the underbrush.