ESTELLE

The vortex spiraled in black and deep reds as it pulsated, and I stepped to my last reaping of the night.

It spit me out in a rundown apartment with a stove leaking gas. Not a flame in sight.

Yet.

All the false light blared down on me.

I inhaled, shook the tension enveloping my body, and snapped my finger. My scythe materialized in the air before me. I reached my hands out and grabbed a hold of the snath.

I lost my grip and it slipped through my clammy fingers. “Shoot. Shit. No, no. Please.” I frantically reached, but the steel blade slammed onto the tile viciously clanging until it settled.

“Who’s there?” a rough voice called out from the dark doorway across the room.

I crouched low, wiped my sweaty palms on my black slacks, snatched the scythe, and stood up, hucking it over my shoulder.

Reaping would never get any less creepy no matter how much I willed it. The end of one's life was never beautiful. It was always dark, sad, or ominous.

I exhaled and gave my best customer service voice despite my menacing aura and stiff fingers. “I’m here to help.” I smiled.

Fake it until you make it. It’s only been . . . what? A few decades of tiny mistakes? I’d get better, eventually. 

Lying to myself was as easy as breathing but it made the dreadful work bearable.

I glided to the pitch-black hallway entrance. Each picture frame ripped from the wall and placed on the ground, facing the wrong way. A little particular but I wasn't here to investigate the man’s life.

The doorway omitted a low light as I stepped inside, and my eyes lingered on an old man slouched beside the bed, staring back at his corpse.

“It can’t be real.” The man shook his head, refusing to make eye contact with me.

I stood still, watching—even after each reaping, it never got easier, or maybe, I was getting soft. 

“If you stay here, it will only cause you more suffering.” My voice was calm and steady and I hoped it didn’t sound too bleak.

The man twisted his neck to face me; his eyes bloodshot and puffy with sunken cheeks. “Go away.”

I clenched the snath of the scythe.

For fuck sake. Why did they never want to listen? It‘s like they all strived to make my day a living hell, dragging this process out way longer than necessary. I had a life too—kind of. How inconsiderate of them.

I tilted my head and gritted through my teeth. “I’m afraid, I can’t do that.”

I stalked close to the man, and he shrunk into the side of the bed, flailing his arms and screaming as I raised the scythe over my head.

“GO AWAY YOU DEMON.” The man swatted at me.

I swung with all my force and tore a hole through space. “Go before I push you,” I growled. My temperament turned more aggravated every second he defied me.

I didn’t have time for this. I needed to end this now. He was the last soul before I could relax.

“NO. NO. NO. I got rid of you!” The guy shot up and shoved me out of his way.

I slammed into the side of the end table; the edge stabbed me in the ribcage as my scythe punctured the wall.

“Damn,” I gasped. 

What idiot decided to make souls strong right after they died? Stupid heightened emotions made them dangerous, and there were only two times when they truly became this powerful. When they first died, and if they lost their last bit of humanity—man, to become stuck between life and death for eternity was something I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.

I groaned a few curses under my breath and pushed myself up. My eyes fixed on the body lying in front of me.

It wasn’t the old man.

A woman in her mid-thirties. Her hair was perfectly brushed and in pigtails; her skin was gray and her eyes wide open.

This man . . . I shuddered. So, it was that kind of work tonight. Management really needed to add more detail to the descriptions so I could better prepare myself. 

And what about her soul? Where was it? 

No. Not on the list; not my problem.

I sprinted out of the room, half-thinking I needed to chase the bastard down. But he cowered in a fetal position next to the front door, rocking back and forth, muttering under his breath, “Why . . . Why can’t I leave?”

I prowled toward him, and he shriveled further against the doorframe.

I clicked my tongue. “All monsters are trapped once they die.” I swung my scythe again, ripping open the door to the other side.

I snatched the man by his collar and yanked him to his feet and tossed him inside.

The tear closed, and I slammed the scythe on the tile, snapped my fingers and it vanished. I lifted my wrist and pressed the side button of my watch.

The vortex opened, and I walked through.

I stepped into Val’s office and dusted my hands off on my slacks.

Val gave me a small nod and I stomped past her; my feet exhausted from chasing erratic souls all day and night.

I rounded the corner and saw my little cubicle and barely made it to my chair before I collapsed onto it.

All the stress left my body as I melted into the seat. It was Friday, and I finished all my fieldwork. I didn’t even have to work through the weekend.

A happy giggle escaped my lips and I jiggled my legs in excitement. I was going to pick up some curry on the way home and binge-watch some K-dramas with Lil Dew. I fucking loved how much the world changed since I was alive. 

“I wouldn’t get too enthusiastic just yet.”

I tipped my head back and Larissa popped out from the corner. She had heavy bags under her eyes as she rubbed her temple in discomfort.

“What do you mean? The reapings are done. What more is there?” I scrunched my eyebrows.

“Upper management wants to have a word with you.”

I choked on my spit and launched to my feet, hoping to find a hint of sarcasm in Larissa’s expression, but her face remained deadpanned.

“You can’t be serious.”

“They found errors in some of the souls you reaped. You sent them to the wrong place.”

My eyes narrowed. “That can’t be right.” Fuckin’ hell balls. I couldn't be that shitty of a reaper. Could I? Someone had to be messing with them once they got there. 

“Go to the elevator and press the sixth button and . . . don’t make him wait. He’s in a nasty mood from dealing with Death all day.”

When was management ever in a good mood? Oh, shit. I was so screwed. “I mean, are you sure it's me and not—“

“This isn’t something you can get out of.”

A hysterical laugh fled my lips, and I covered my mouth. “Okay. Wish me luck.”

“Oh, sweetie. You’re going to need more than luck.”