CHAPTER FOUR

“W-who are you?” Zeek cried, his voice trembling with fear.

“I am DEATH!”

“Death? The Death? But I’m too young to die!” Zeek held out Pickles with straight arms. “Can’t you take Pickles instead? He’s old.”

The cat meowed.

“I am not here for your soul, mortal. You see that which others can not. I am in need of such a skill.”

“You want my help?”

“Three Earth days ago, the veil to the Underworld was torn open in Chicago’s Chinatown.”

“The Underworld? You mean hell?”

“Indeed, Spirit Hunter. And from the torn veil a group of souls escaped into the realm of the living.” The voice belonged to the cloaked figure, yet the deep resonance surrounded Zeek, pressing against him in a near physical force. “Bring them to me so I may return them to their rightful place in eternal hellfire.”

Zeek filled his cheeks up with air, then released it in an enormous sigh. “Ah, look. I’m grateful for the job offer. Really, I am. Super generous of you, Death. But the thing is I deal with more domestic hauntings, you know, evil librarian, diaper wearing man-child. That sort of thing. Can’t you do it?”

“In the time I have spoken to you, twenty-nine souls await my hand. Time is against me, Spirit Hunter. And so this task I give to you.” Death pointed a long withered finger at him.

Zeek stared at it. “And if I say no?”

“Refuse and the death’s they cause will be on your head. For that I will plunge your soul into the depths of hellfire for all eternity.”

“That’s a little extreme.”

“In return for your service, mortal, I offer you one token favor.” Death reached into his cloak and withdrew a golden coin. Then as he held it out to Zeek, the coin lifted and spun, crossing the divide between them and freezing before Zeek’s eyes, floating as if in space. Zeek reached out and took the coin.

He was expecting something ancient and powerful, something from an Indiana Jones’ movie or Pirates of the Caribbean. Powerful it may have been, but there were not intricate carvings or designs. There were, however, English words etched onto its surface.

Zeek read it aloud. “One token favor for Zeek Tobias Solomon Crabtree. This soul token must be redeemed only by the entity of Death himself. Reapers do not hold the authority to validate this token.” Zeek turned the coin over and read on. “One token per person, per life time. Thank you.”

“One favor,” said Death.

“Yeah, I gathered. What sort of favor?”

“I am Death. A reunion with kin if you so wish. Or perhaps another chance at life, when the end so comes ...”

Zeek thought about that.

“Do not fail me, mortal. My messenger will be in contact soon.”

“Wait!”

But in that instant, Death vanished, and just like that, the oppressing darkness lifted. Light returned to the apartment, and Zeek looked around, wondering for a moment if he had imagined the whole thing. Only he was still holding the coin.

He pushed it into his pocket and looked down at Pickles, who had returned to eating his food.

“Sorry Pickles,” he said, giving the cat a scratch. “I wouldn’t let that big bad Death take you.”

The sound that came from Pickles sounded oddly like grumble.

Zeek opened a bag of crisps, flicked on the TV and collapsed on the couch, thinking about what had happened.

Death wanted his help. Was there no one else in all the world? Why had he come to him? Zeek reached into his pocket and slid out the coin, thinking about the favor he could ask of Death. He had been given two possibilities: one, to survive death, when it came for him. He cocked a brow and said, “Hey, cool! Free life.” But then he thought of the other option, the one where he could talk to someone from beyond the grave. Zeek’s expression turned solemn and he rubbed his thumb over the coin, feeling a strange, prickly sensation radiating from the precious metal.

Pickles leapt up onto his lap and Zeek scratched at the cat’s ears and under his chin.

There was an attractive blonde on the TV reading the latest news report: “A violent crime spree is tearing through Chicago, and the Police Department has of yet no answers to the sudden spike in criminal activity...”

Zeek looked down at his cat and sighed. “Looks like it’s gonna be a long week, Pickles.”