Don't Fear the Reaper (2 page)

My wrist had stopped bleeding, so that was a bonus. Looking back, I couldn’t remember how red the water in the tub had been. Water always made the amount of blood appear worse than it really was.

Ribbons. Pretty ribbons.

On a whim, I peeled back the tape and gauze from my wrist, and frowned. The cut had sealed, looking much more healed than physically possible. Despite the lack of any chemical hangover, my brain was clearly malfunctioning. Maybe I’d make a whole pot of coffee, extra strong
and
add a few shots of espresso.

Instead, I went back to my room and sat on the edge of my bed. What a mess I was! I couldn’t even manage to commit suicide right. That was a good thing, even if it didn’t do a whole lot to lighten my mood.

My heart thudded wearily, like it’d been broken into a million shards of glass. I’d never felt so lost. So vulnerable. I wanted my parents. I wanted my sister. I wanted our lives back. I wanted everything the way it was before Jordan died.

“I miss you so much, Jordan. I only wanted to be with you again. Please, Sis. Tell me what to do.” I hung my head. “I need you.”

“It’ll be okay, Keely.” Not my sister’s voice. Not even close.

I jerked my head up and looked around. He was just as mysterious as I’d remembered, in his black shirt, pants, and duster. All that black was in stark contrast to his wavy blond hair and those eyes. They were what I’d call a
forever
blue—the kind of eyes that seemed as though they could read souls. I’d never seen irises like his—bright, like they were lit from behind. He was handsome for someone of my parents’ age—early forties. What was it about those eyes that calmed me when I should have been terrified at finding a complete stranger in my room? For all I knew, the effects of the tequila and sleeping pills hadn’t worn off. He definitely wasn’t a paramedic. But, he had saved my life, and then politely waited for me to clean up and get dressed.

“Thanks,” I said. “For what you did.”

He shrugged.

“I have no idea what you see in her, Banning. Doesn’t seem worth it to me,” another voice said.

A second guy entered my room. He was about my age, packing pure attitude and a lean, fit physique into a red Harley Davidson t-shirt and a pair of faded Levi’s. His short brown hair was perfectly mussed, and he had fierce, dark eyes. And apparently, an equally fierce tongue.

Who were these two? They almost acted as though they knew me, yet this felt all wrong. My first semi-coherent thought, based on the man in black’s attire, was that he worked with Dad at the District Attorney’s office and the younger guy was his smart-ass son, or maybe his assistant. Dad had done this before—had someone from the office stop by to pick up a brief or some notes. But who’d let them in the house?

With a bit of effort, I managed to lift my head in the newcomer’s direction. “And you are?”

Instead of answering, he simply rolled his eyes. What a jerk. Maybe he’d be a bit more cordial over that pot of coffee I wanted. Or not. I stood and shoved past Mr. Attitude.

He grabbed hold of my arm. “Relax, Sunshine.”

His grin creeped me out. I pulled away, but he blocked my path. “Who the hell are
either
of you?” I asked, finally becoming a bit freaked out now that the ice in my brain had started to thaw. I no longer cared that the man in black had saved my life. This was weird.

He turned and walked out of my room into the hallway. “You explain it to her, Banning. This is your deal, anyway.”

The guy in black, Banning, apparently, motioned for me to follow him from my room. “Come on, Keely. Let’s talk.”

Even in my current dazed state everything felt wrong. Maybe these men weren’t who I’d first thought. I shook my head in an attempt to jump-start my brain. The motion only made my vision blur. I really needed that coffee.

“I’m Banning,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m here to help you.”

I didn’t take his hand. I wanted to sit down and collect myself before I vomited or fell over. I steadied myself against my desk instead. “No offense, but you look like the mafia. Or an undertaker.”

He laughed and his blue eyes lit up his face again. “Neither. This isn’t going to be easy to hear, Keely.”

Great. He even sounded like Dad. I paused, my brain finally clicking into gear and setting off an alarm. It dawned on me why he was here. Something horrible had happened to my parents on the way home from the dinner party. “My mom and dad—are they okay?”

Banning raised a hand. “They’re fine, Keely. Really. But I do have a bit of bad news.”

“Are you from Dad’s office?” I asked, now certain again that he was, and certain, too, that he was lying about Mom and Dad’s well being. After all this, I couldn’t imagine something happening to them. I was still having some minor difficulty unscrambling all my thoughts. That did it. Tomorrow, I was becoming a health freak.

“Five minutes, I think. Then they’ll be here,” Mr. Attitude called out. “
Tell
her, Banning. What are you waiting for?”

“Tell me what?” I asked.

The younger man returned, still in his perpetual state of annoyance. “You’re dead, Sunshine. Banning here is a reaper. I’m Daniel, the demon who’ll be escorting you
and
him to hell at the end of next week.”

“Shut it, Daniel!” Banning spat. “Can’t you even try to demonstrate some decency?”

“Just saving time, buddy. Decency is getting her out of here before she sees her corpse or the look on her parents’ faces when they walk into their bathroom. They’ll be in the driveway soon. In six minutes, give or take, they’ll be screaming…”

Oh, yeah. Mr. Attitude was full-on crazy.

Banning took a step toward Daniel. “I. Said.
Shut
it! She doesn’t belong to you.
Shouldn’t
belong to your side.”

Daniel simply stood there, arms at his sides with that disconcerting grin on his face. “Suicide, my friend. It’s a sin against her soul. That’s the rule. And you? Should you belong to my side? We both know why I’m here. We know how all this will end.”

“No. You
don’t
know,” Banning said.

Daniel looked around, pretending to search for someone. “Gee. I don’t see anyone from the opposing team.”

Whatever they were arguing about, I took the opportunity to run. I raced down the stairs, expecting one of them to be right behind me. Daniel did follow, but in no real hurry. Outside, car doors slammed. I screamed and tugged at the doorknob, knowing my parents were only feet away from me, but the knob wouldn’t turn.

Daniel laughed, and walked toward me. “You’re an earthbound, Sunshine. Here’s a tip. Earthbounds can’t move objects when the living are too close to them. They drain your energy.”

He pulled me from the door and whirled me around.

“I forgot my purse,” I heard my mother say.

“No! Mom! Help!” I screamed, then I kicked Daniel in the shin. “Get off me!”

He let out a string of curses. “Bad idea,” he finally hissed. Before I could lash out again, he wrenched my arm—thankfully the good arm, behind my back and shoved me up the stairs toward my parents’ bathroom. “Take another look. Take a good, long look.”

Banning followed us. “Let her go, Daniel. She’s been through quite enough.”

“What? And let her have another swing at me? I don’t think so, Sparky,” Daniel growled. Banning’s steely blue eyes didn’t need words. Smart mouth or not, Daniel wasn’t the one in charge here. “Fine,” Daniel said, exasperated. “Fine.”

He released his grip and walked away, hands up and palms facing outward. “Have it your way.”

Downstairs, the door closed.

“You’re nuts,” I said, a surge of panic rising inside me. “Both of you.”

“Do as Daniel asks,” Banning said. “Please.”

If they wanted me to look at the tub, then sure. Whatever. They were crazy, anyway.

“I’ll never understand why anyone who commits suicide acts so surprised. Why some earthbounds can’t accept that they’re dead,” Daniel commented.

My parents’ soft chatter drifted upstairs along with the sound of their footsteps—my mother’s heels tapping against the hardwood in the foyer.

“Keely!” Mom called out. “We’re home.”

“Help! I’m up here!” I shouted.

“Keely?” she called again.

“Up
here
. Call the police! I’m in your room,” I repeated, louder. I heard the coat closet opening, heard them talking.

“Headphones, I bet,” my father said.

“She probably went to bed. Dinner took longer than we expected,” Mom suggested. Their voices were louder now, the sound of their footfalls closer as they walked up the stairs.

Daniel and Banning exchanged another glance. Daniel shrugged and turned away.

Banning’s eyes met mine. “Keely, please trust me. You don’t want to see this.”

I strode past him, half expecting one of them to stop me, but they didn’t. I almost totally bypassed my mother who entered the bedroom. Without a word, she took off her earrings and set them on the dresser. Obviously, she was angry, thinking I hadn’t answered when she’d called. She walked right past me, straight to the bathroom. How she missed seeing Banning and Daniel was beyond me.

That’s when the screaming started. Clearly, I hadn’t cleaned up well enough and left Dad’s tequila and the Dremel out. Or I’d forgotten the note on the counter.

My father charged past me, a blur in a navy blue suit. He shouted in horror and I rushed in to assure them I hadn’t gone through with it, although I probably should have. They’d ground me for life. Probably even send me off to some rehab or psycho center for troubled teens. Mom sat on the floor, wailing and clawing at her face. Dad bent over the tub and tugged at something in the water.

The water.

The tub was full of red water. And me.

I stumbled backward, reeling. Cold fear clutched at my insides. “No, no, no! That’s not me. I’m here, I’m right
here
.” But the features, although colorless, were mine. My green eyes stared blankly, my jaw had relaxed, exposing my perfect teeth—the ones that had cost my parents a fortune in dental bills.

I pulled at my father, my attempts futile. He cradled the pale, dead me against his chest. He rocked back and forth and cried, eyes tightly shut, his face contorted in a way I hadn’t thought possible.

Banning tried to take me into his arms. I pounded my fists against him, demanding to be let go. “What did you do?” I shrieked.

“In his defense, nothing. At least not what you think,” Daniel replied. He was leaning against the doorway, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded, and watching my parents like they were a TV drama rerun.

“Murderer!” I screamed. “Both of you!”

“No,” Daniel added. “That was all you.”

“I don’t commit murder,” Banning said softly. He gave Daniel a hard sidelong glare. “But I can’t stop it, either. I can’t stop death.”

“Only take the soul when it’s time,” Daniel chided.

My father pulled my limp body from the tub and rested against the bathroom floor. With a shaky hand, he removed a cell phone from his pocket. He wiped at his tears and slowly tapped out three numbers.

Mom had taken a clean towel and placed it across my naked torso. She patted my face with it, wiped at my cheeks. My unblinking eyes stared upward at her. Between sobs, she took my right arm and dried it slowly, gently, like she used to do when Jordan and I were five and all clean and pink from our baths. Her expression had glazed over and she’d stopped screaming. She hummed a familiar tune, a lullaby interrupted only by an occasional hiccup and sob. Tears flooded silently down her cheeks.

The horror of what I’d done froze me in place. If I was dead, then why hadn’t the despair ended with my life? Those were my parents, grieving over
my
body.

Me.

Not
me.

I checked my wrist. The wound had healed over, leaving a four-inch long scar. The body on the floor had a huge vertical gash on the left wrist. I couldn’t be dead. Couldn’t. My heart hammered in my chest. I was
breathing
. But I couldn’t deny that the body on the floor was mine.

“Mom,” I cried, as I hugged her. “I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry. I love you Mom, and I’m…” I struggled to stop my own tears and steady my breath. “S-s-so sorry.” I could feel my mother’s soft skin, smell her favorite perfume. But she seemed oblivious to my touch.

“Why can’t she feel me?” I sobbed.

“You don’t exist in the living world any longer,” Banning said softly.

No wonder a demon was in the room. I didn’t need an escort. I’d already been sent to hell.

Banning pried me from my mother. “We should go now.”

My brain refused to accept the facts in front of me. I couldn’t be dead. If I was dead, I wouldn’t be rationalizing my death. My brain insisted I was tripping. Yes, that was it. A wild trip like in the old days. Or, a lack of oxygen. I’d heard people thought some pretty weird things when they didn’t have enough oxygen. What if I was in a coma, or having an out of body experience?

I shook my head. “Not real,” I heard myself whisper.

“Real,” Daniel said, nonchalantly from his post against the wall. “Stage one, full denial with psychotic tendencies and delusions of astral projection.”

I hated him, hated the way his words sounded in my ears. He didn’t care that my parents were completely torn apart. He didn’t care how sorry I was. My life was...gone. Over.

What had I done?

“Enough,” Banning warned him. “Ever hear of
tact
?”

“Oh, I’m supposed to have sympathy for her on top of everything else?” Daniel scoffed. “I know better, Banning. I freaking know better. Am I supposed to candy-coat it? Tell her it’s okay and then show her around hell like it’s Ft. Lauderdale on spring break?”

“She’s not going with you,” Banning repeated.

I wasn’t going with anyone. I wanted them to leave me alone. Or fix everything. For the first time in months, I wanted something more than my sister’s life back. I wanted
my
life back. “Undo this. Fix it!” I shouted.