| |
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and old people and I didn’t know which one gave me more of the willies. I walked through the emergency room, thinking I would get pulled aside at every glance, but I wasn’t stopped. I wasn’t even given more than a cursory look until I started toward the operating rooms, then nurses and other hospital personnel swarmed like gnats on a pile of fresh seaweed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” A nurse wearing purple scrubs hurried from behind the check-in desk.
I sent her my best innocent, embarrassed smile, the one I usually reserve for my basketball teammates when I’ve made a stupid foul, and tried to remember the term for critical patients. Intensive care – that’s it. “I’m looking for the intensive care unit. My grandmother is there and I got lost coming back from the cafeteria,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t insist on looking her up on the computer like they had the other night.
“These are the operating rooms. You want to take the elevator to the third floor and follow the blue line.” She pointed to the colored lines on the floor that led to the different areas of the hospital.
“Thank you.” I turned and retraced my steps to the elevator, and took it to the intensive care unit. This time I waited in the shadows until the attending nurse stepped away from the desk. I slipped past and stood in the center of the hallway, scanning the number of doors lining the walls and inhaled. My gaze kept pulling to the third door on the right and I stepped toward it. Before I stepped inside the room, I did a quick check of both ends of the hall and then I slid inside, closing the door and blinking to adjust to the minimal light. The wheeze of the oxygen machine overrode the blood rushing in my ears and I focused on the patient in the bed.
My first reaction was I had made a mistake. This was a kid, a young kid and sleeping in the corner was a haggard looking woman who looked both young and old at the same time. The more my eyes adjusted, the clearer the scene before me became and my gaze snapped to the figure blending with the shadows.
A reaper. And it was staring at me.
“I can see you and I need to talk to you,” I whispered and the woman in the chair stirred, but didn’t wake.
The reaper lifted a finger to its mouth, both signaling and whispering for me to be quiet.
I raised an eyebrow. This reaper’s voice was soft and pleasant and full of warmth unlike the reapers I saw earlier at my Grandmother’s. I need to talk to you, I thought, hoping the figure would hear me as if I spoke.
The being glanced between me and the girl in the bed and back, pointing in the child’s direction.
I’m not here to stop you from doing your job but I need to talk to you.
The reaper pointed toward the hall and then disappeared. I stepped outside glancing in both directions and not seeing the reaper. I was about to open the door again when I heard a distinct hiss. I scanned the hall again and saw a girl with jet-black hair waving to me from a cracked door. I did another quick scan of my surroundings and then hustled to the room, slipping inside before the on-duty nurse looked up from whatever she was doing at the desk.
Darkness blanketed me and I fumbled for a light switch as my heart jumped in my chest. My fingers found the button and I pushed it. Bright lights blinded me and I squinted at the girl across the closet from me.
“You said you needed to talk. So talk,” she said and this time her tone carried an impatient quality.
“How,” I started and swallowed, “how come you’ve got a body now?”
She glanced toward the wall and then back at me. “I thought it might be easier for you to talk to me in this form. I can strip the illusion if you’d prefer.”
“No, no that’s fine.” I didn’t know how to start so I stuck out my hand. “I’m Nick,” I introduced.
She stared at the offered hand and then raised her gaze. “You know what I am, right?”
“You’re a reaper.”
She nodded.
I kept my hand out, willing her to shake it. I had to know if I was immune to her touch or if I would swoon into blackness like when my father touched me.
“I’m Isabel,” she said and tepidly stretched her fragile hand out and wrapped it around mine. Her touch was cool but not unpleasant, and the initial shock of contact wore off quickly but her eyes widened and she yanked her hand away like I had burned her.
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Nick and you know my father.”
A crease appeared between her eyes and she tilted her head, studying me. Unlike the other reapers, she didn’t seem to be able to get in my head very far. Before she could speak, her gaze snapped to the right. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said and evaporated in a swirl of steam.
Out in the hall, I could hear the fast patter of footsteps and the muted singular tone of a heart monitor and I knew where my reaper had gone. I wanted to go to the room, to see the transition, but instead, I waited for her to return, knowing that if I saw her take the girl’s spirit, I might be tempted to stop her and then the domino effect of my mistake would compound.
The soft sobs of the girl’s mother drifted down the hall and I leaned my forehead against the door, closing my eyes, trying to block out the sorrow overwhelming me. I blinked and wiped at my face, shocked to see the wet proof of tears. This was not like me. I don’t cry.
“Who is your father?”
Her voice sent shock waves through me and I spun, almost losing my balance. Reaching for the nearest shelf, I caught myself and stared at her red-rimmed eyes and the tears flowing freely down her pale cheeks.
“Dylan,” I said, unsure of why I used his name instead of just saying Death but the result was the same. Her jaw dropped and she stepped backwards, putting distance between us.
“That’s...that’s impossible.”
I wanted to laugh. So many things in the last few days were impossible, just like this bizarre conversation. “Oh, believe me, it’s possible. He’s missing and I need your help.”
“What do you mean missing?”
“A couple reapers have taken him to Purgatory and right now I don’t think we have time to go get him. Those reapers are waging war and I need to know how to stop them.”
“War?”
“Look, Isabel, can you help me or not?”
Her face hardened and she crossed her arms. “I don’t care much for your tone.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Of all the reapers in the universe, I had to get one with an attitude. “Look, if you can’t help me, I need to find someone who can because if I don’t stop them, a lot of people who aren’t supposed to die will.”
Her eyes widened as the situation sank in and she stepped closer. “Only your father can stop them.”
“They said Leviathan is guarding him,” I said as if I really knew what that meant.
“Oh shi...shoot.” Isabel turned away from me and sighed. “I can try to help, but depending on who it is, I might be just as useless as a ghost would be.”
“How do I stop them?” I asked and she grabbed my wrist. This time the touch produced a heat that glided up my arm like an inferno.
“You take your place at the head of the table,” she answered and the burning spread into my shoulder and chest.
I spun into ippon and flipped her over my back onto the ground, cutting whatever she was doing off. Blinking, I stared down at her shocked expression. “It’s not my time and you damn well know it.” The transition into the dark figure was instant. The thing loomed over me and when it spoke, I knew Isabel had been intercepted.
It cackled in that deep threatening way and reached for me.
I stepped back and the doorknob wedged into the small of my back, offering an escape route. I took it, swiveling and ripping the door open before the reaper could lay a finger on me. I ran and skidded to a stop. Blocking the elevator was the other reaper and he was holding onto Isabel, despite her best efforts to break free.
“Let her go,” the order slid from my lips formed in a low growl and the being complied, stunned for a moment at its inability to hold onto my only ally. Isabel took flight down the stairwell and I followed, sensing her as opposed to seeing her.
The moment we hit the street, she took human form again, matching me stride for stride as I headed toward the library. “You said I know your father,” she said just before I reached the door.
“Yes.” I glanced at her and sighed. “I’m Dylan’s son.”
She grabbed my arm. “By Dylan do you mean Death?”
I nodded and she dropped her hand.
“No wonder you didn’t go into cardiac arrest when I touched you.”
“I guess that’s a good thing,” I said and turned away from the door, scanning the woods surrounding the back of the library. “They have my dad and they don’t want me to interfere in their war.”
“There have been some rumors, but I didn’t think they’d go through with it.” The words came out in a rush of air and I didn’t look at her, I just stared straight ahead and offered another quick nod.
“Holy cow.”
“How do I stop them?”
It was Isabel’s turn to look away. “If they’ve imprisoned your father, there is little we can do, because unless they destroy him, you’re vulnerable. I’m not sure why they haven’t come after you yet, but they will. You’re the last in the royal bloodline.”
“Royal bloodline?”
“Yes. Death’s bloodline traces back to the ancient druids and the first priest kings of humanity. It was then that the Archangels chose the Angel of Death from the human population to rule over the legion of reapers and do Fate’s bidding. The future is already written and there have been very few times that Death has wavered from the path because the consequences are brutal. If you piss off Fate, she has a tendency to rip up the playbook and erase civilizations.
Death is heaven’s most revered angel because he was born of human blood and his power in the wrong hands could lay waste to your world.”