Authors: Kathy-Lynn Cross
We headed for the door when a familiar feeling of frost stirred the air in front of me. An overwhelming sense of fear sparked my flight reflexes and continued to push my group to walk faster. Melanie tripped and laughed over her encumbered motor skills, obviously drunker than the rest of us. Could the night get any worse?
Once we pushed our way outside, I heard the guys talking about who was going with whom when I felt the coolness again. It could only mean one thing. Michael was somewhere nearby. A sob caught between panicked emotions. Why was I so afraid of him?
Tod and one of his friends, someone I didn’t know very well, were climbing into the truck. How did I get stuck with Sally-Drinks-A-Lot? She was draped over half of me while trying to stay upright. I wanted to make it to the truck and get the hell out of Dodge, not caring where we ended up. Even the idea of going home sounded better than staying for another second. We were almost to the monster truck beast when I thought I heard a low growl. I turned to find Michael coming out of the house, making a beeline in our direction. I picked up the pace and hollered at the guys. Tod’s friend opened the passenger door and pulled his rag doll into the cab. Tod moved around and got in on the driver’s side. I had trouble gaining a footing in the Coach Amina heels. His friend grabbed my arm and pulled me up. “Hey there, have we met? I’m Brad Stu. I play on the varsity soccer team.”
I used a smile to say,
hi
, nice to meet you. My grip said,
now get me into the freakin’ truck.
Another roar and it sent every fear emotion I had into overdrive. I used the seat belt across my chest as a security blanket and glanced out the side window to see Michael’s features change. He was covered in shadows, even with the moonlight spilling overhead. Sliding forward, I placed both hands on the back of Tod’s seat and yelled, “Go now.” He revived the truck’s heart and we sped out of Krista’s driveway.
I needed some reassurance and peered between a few fingers out the back window. For once, being speechless was a blessing because I couldn’t explain to anyone what I’d seen that night, other than the fact the alcohol might have impaired my vision. Michael was dressed in a cloak. He had wings arched behind his back and was shouting for me to come back.
Where was Scotty when I needed to scream?
Beam us up, now.
I stopped running after her. She was on the way again to meet her demise. How many times must we save this creature? I didn’t want to do what I knew I was ordered to do if things went wrong. Our problems would be solved
if I killed her.
Unfortunately, that thrill would have to wait for another time and place.
Swiping at a lock of sweaty bangs with the back of my hand, I then reached for the cell and dialed the number.
First ring. He picked up but didn’t say anything. Figured.
“It’s Michael.”
I nodded in response to the swift onslaught of questions.
“I know, but she was crispy and flying tonight. I couldn’t convince her to stay put.”
The voice on the other end of the line was scorching down to the eardrum. I held the cell away until he was done. He gave me a small reprieve before I physically reported to the head of the clan. My ear might completely be removed then anyway. F-ing great, so looking forward to that.
While I blew out a thin trail of black mist, the Smolder I contained snarled as a reply. “I know. I screwed up. She pissed me off tonight trying to come on to me and crap.” Heat from the speaker cooked every last nerve. “No, I didn’t act on that. She is your problem child, not mine. I only watch her when you make me. Yes, yes, I know what she is. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
I started walking away from the loud drumming and the soul-filled Vessels. Soon enough, I would be sending them to the Ever After. “Yeah, I know where you are. I know. I will take your job. I’ll be right there. From what I saw when I held her hand, you have about twenty-one minutes before it happens.” I checked my watch to be sure. “That should be about three minutes to midnight. Yeah. Eleven fifty-seven.” I nodded again in agreement with his instructions. “Don’t worry. I will make it there on time.” I hung up the device.
He can go and save that unpleasant, foul-mouthed, broken creature. She was his problem to watch over, not mine.
I am an Ashen, death’s personal wielder, the Grim Reaper from everyone’s worst nightmares. I reap the souls of the living. I do not babysit them.
Frustration rubbed my scales the wrong way. With a snarl, I allowed the black mist to surround me, to remove the blending spell and reveal my true form. Opening both wings with a thunder crack and adjusting the battle axe I used for reaping, I lifted off into the cool night sky. A stripped-naked thought danced as evil while the night’s cover enveloped me. Settling into the role I meant for, a half-cocked grin crept across my face.
This is what I do best. I take souls.
Seething, the voice inside my head hissed. “She got away, again.”
I snapped the cell phone shut and heard the plastic buckle under pressure. Placing two fingers on the bridge of my nose, I closed my eyes tight and swayed in frustration. The feeling of agitation only began to subside when I used the motion to calm the daemon within. Tainted judgment disgusted me more than the Ashen I had sent to watch over the child. The caged beast from inside forced me to release my anger into the chilled unknown, detaching from the noticeable emotions of torment.
Michael was right. It was my task to personally watch over her. His noncommittal attitude toward guarding the Child for the past ten years was infuriating. Plus, he was the type of daemon who enjoyed playing with his food before he killed it out of boredom. Michael did not see her the way I did. To him, she was only another soul to harvest. Alexcia was like a well-placed pot on a stove and the water inside it represented her spirit. Michael enjoyed turning up the flame waiting for the water to almost boil over. Then, when she was about to blow, he would stir her pot and start all over.
I should have known better than to send him to keep an eye on her, but the rest of the clan were attending to their own assignments. When Michael had called to inform me her name appeared in the Cauldron’s waters, I was already on another harvest and needed to feed. Unable to be in two places at one time. I knew better, but my lack of energy trumped
Child sitting
.
Michael was the only Ashen who had extra time and seemed willing after I disclosed she was attending one of her friend’s gatherings. His quick acceptance for the task was the red flag I had completely overlooked. Michael’s zeal toward anything was a sign things were not going to go as planned.
I whispered a curse to be carried away with the next whip of air. “Damn the cloak I cast.” Those harsh words melted the specks of snow in front of my mouth.
The bus and train were scheduled to collide around 12:02 a.m. and Michael had said her ticket was punched for 11:57 p.m. Besides, the crash location was on the outskirts of the city. Whereas, Alexcia’s winding path to demise was in the opposite direction. Not even a Time Bend could move me fast enough between both reapings. Some forces of magic were bound by basic rules. Unbreakable ones.
A multiple harvesting was a complicated and delicate task, not one to be rushed by any means, especially if some of the souls were supposed to pass at the same time. I have never liked passing up certain responsibilities, but deep down I knew Michael could handle it with ease. The Ashens in my clan were still fairly new compared to most daemons of our kind. Approximately six hundred years was a mere stone skip across the lake of our time. Actually, that was a guess since I stopped calculating around five hundred years ago. At some point, counting became mundane.
With the position of clan leader, my powers alone could harvest hundreds if the job required it. Michael was considered my right hand or second in command. It was not a question about him being capable or that I was worried about his ability to get the job done. He existed for assignments like the one I had dropped in his lap. In that particular instance, a slight possibility existed that he would get caught up on the high from so much work. A severing ritual was capable of spurring a contact high from the overabundance of life force collected during the Knell. Each time our death weapon of choice connected with a soul, the power mix would feed us like a daemonic jump charge. To be honest, I was really looking forward to recharging tonight.
Michael should be able to take a month or two off from his reaping duties if he remains well-grounded and does not lose control.
We did not need the River’s attention with us by making more Casters. The ghost population was already booming from so many botched jobs. If I saw another TV show about the “Other Side of Death” or “What Happens after You Die?” or the ones that go hunting to prove the paranormal exist. I shook my head in a small fit of laughter from the next thought I had. If only these Vessels really knew what chased them, even during daylight hours, we would have more souls to harvest simply from them being scared to death.
Tonight the River was requesting to refill more power than the norm. I had heard a rumor, by thread and thimble that the River’s flow was slowing down again. This was another reason I wanted to perform tonight’s task personally. A reaping of that magnitude would require a flawless, orchestrated style since the performance would happen in front of the audiences of living and the Unseen.
The Bridge Crossers had always belonged to a single part of the network of the Unseen realm. Being angels once did not assure they would agree with the Constant of Light’s rules. Since they chose to have free will, and in doing so, damned themselves to the world of serving. Now banned from the House of Light, and too pure to survive in the depths of the River Styx’s sepulcher, they had no choice but to make a Bond-Rite with the head of the House of Space, Lucifer.
Becoming a Bridge Crosser was their atonement for retaining certain freedoms. They were not the most patient of half-breeds and had kept to strict guidelines about keeping schedules because of the gondoliers. The souls they were required to escort across the bridges to the boats needed to remain on time to ensure the empty power source was replenished to the River for recycling. Therefore, Styx kept flowing and the life cycle continued.
The River Styx was known as the Infinity Constant, and one of the main rules for the Unseen included: To never disrupt the flow of the river. To my knowledge, that rule had been in place before the Constant Light was created. The River Styx never stopped creating since the dawn of time. My job was to make sure Ashens continued to harvest the souls needed so the River’s power could be evenly distributed through the act of recreating.
I understood why everything stayed the same because of the River. And I knew the rules and why I existed. This job was not going to jeopardize the clan over some special Vessel. That particular Bond-Rite situation was jarring each nerve. Pushing a free hand through tangled hair with an added sigh, I thought of how and why my job description had changed. It infuriated me beyond confusion.
What I did not know was why our clan had been bestowed with a new description entitled Child Welfare. This assignment had created questions about being the head of our clan, reaping the dead, and still finding time to save Alexcia. The next thought oppressed my daemon brain with a growling voice.
All this power and for what?
The answering voice sounded much like my own, with jaws wired shut.
For nothing.
When I met Rae-Lynn Stasis, little did I know our chance meeting would cast me in the main role in
A Daemon’s Adventures in Babysitting
.
I can justly say, it has been an interesting ten years, but who’s counting?
I was shocked to find out that the child’s parents, for the most part, were from the Unseen.
Alexcia’s mother was once the Angel of Water. Her ability was to free a being from their fears. When Rae was tossed out of heaven fifty some odd years ago, she was stripped of her wings and turned half human. The child’s father was a full-fledged daemon. He used the name Max Stasis, but it concerned me how my cloak shivered whenever we were in his presence. It was as if my powers were cautious of him. That kind of uncertainty always clouded judgment. Then there was a nagging sense I had seen him before, but the time frame and situation eluded me. The fact alone that I have never been recopied was enough reason to stay as far away from him as possible. In the reality of dealing with death’s finalities, universes were not far enough. When it came to addressing their daughter’s issues, I only conversed with the one who thought she held my leash… Rae.
Max and Rae-Lynn committed a pure sin by falling into an emotional bond that would link them indefinitely with each other. I never believed in the word love. Simply stated, “I believe it is a fictitious human word for their own imaginary emotions.” Anyway, the result of their sin was conception. As such, the child’s blood had a portion from both the House of Light and the House of Space coursing through her veins. The Unseen call the offspring from these special unions, Children-of-Balance. A decade ago, I found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now I was the overseer of one of them.
A part of me regretted the night I had stepped into that hospital room. At first, it seemed I could only covet a tiny Vessel on a gurney with a soul to fulfill the job requirement. When she spoke to me, it caught me off guard as I made eye contact with her.
Be the devil take it,
her eyes stopped me in mid-sever. Then I found myself fighting to protect her from a true Unseen asshole, Razor, one of the Bridge Crossers. He was extinguished, thanks to some quick thinking. Unfortunately, over the years he was replaced by others in the Unseen who tried to tip the balance of power. Angel, daemon, and elemental alike wanted claim to the child’s soul before she could choose. I blame temporary insanity for accepting this role as bodyguard.
Shock skittered across my skin as a sound of laughter echoed from the snow-topped mountains. This stopped the recap of the
what if
era. Poor child, if she only knew her Guardian Angel was none other than a Grim Reaper.
Ashens are the harvesters of death, stealing a human’s last breath by separating soul from body.
The simple thought lingered because separating soul from body was my only task back then. A sigh of defeat followed.
It had been a complicated situation juggling between death’s dealings and saving one life all the time. And this particular Vessel had never made it easy to save her butt. It became more difficult the older she got. The girl had been forever creative in choosing her venues.
Alexcia took after her daemon father in the stubbornness and mouth department, which made her a magnet for trouble. I completely understood how she tended to get on not only Michael’s last nerve, but the whole clan’s. Controlling the urge to use my scythe when dealing with one of her situations should have netted me more respect from her parents. Truthfully, there were times I wanted nothing more than to harvest her soul myself.
The most unsavory part of guarding had been when one of us was forced to save her ass by putting her into a manageable state. That involved drugging her by using the mist from our cloak as a sedative. Once we had her in an embrace, she was baked within seconds, ready to be served. The mist allowed her to still function while we barked out commands for her to follow. One thing in our favor was that Alexcia could not retain her memory from events taken place in our presence.
Unfortunately, with every pro there is a con.
One side effect of the mist was her mouth tended to runneth over and turn her somewhat violent. On occasion, the child acted on her aggression as though she was untouchable, even from us. After taking care of her little incidents, and shortly before passing out, she would steal a glimpse at me. Her presence would plunge into my core like a serrated blade cutting away at the cage where part of my power, the Smolder, lay dormant. Thank the Houses, she was never coherent long enough to succeed in freeing it.
As an Ashen, the price for eternally dealing death is a portion of our sight. Part of our power we carry is called the Smolder. It is what fuels our abilities, but blurs the edges of our sight, so we see everything draped over in a haze.
After hundreds of years looking through the fog… when it was removed, the sharpness tended to stab the back of both eyes. Alexcia’s power clawed its way through, burning away the cloudy areas of my vision. Which, for a brief moment, caused me to see the crispness of her features before the smoke returned again. Thank the stars, she was not strong enough to keep it going for both of us.
I cursed at the memory, “Damn me to hell’s fire and back,” because that was where I ended up every time. She would send me straight into the depths of my own hell and burn with an unnatural feeling for her as it engulfed every thought into pure chaos. I never understood these mixed feelings for this child. As an Ashen, I was not supposed to have emotions toward Vessels. The angel side of her power had always been hidden behind her eyes—truly the windows to her soul have frozen me dead in my tracks and accomplished the impossible—control death.
Until her, no human or animal has ever been able to stop me from harvesting their soul. The child does not know what she is, let alone the power that lies dormant behind those eyes.
From the beginning of time, our orders had never changed: Do not get attached to a Vessel because eventually the soul will be returned to the River. They were not made to last forever. Casting a glance up to the midnight blue sky, I could still picture how her eyes looked up at me from the hospital bed. Wide, scared, confused but laced with a trust in me I never understood. I gritted my teeth as a low rumble from the beast within wanted to be released from its prison. Standing up straight, I figured I should get started. Changing from one form to another takes time. Unfortunately, I was running out of those golden seconds. I looked at the time and noticed it was 11:43 p.m., less than fifteen minutes to get to her.
I loathed the process of switching from reaper to battle form as a Smolder. Even though I enjoyed having my minion close, I knew this would be for the best. Unlocking the possessed side of me and its abilities would be to our advantage if we should run into trouble. Tonight could possibly become ugly. The thought brought an evil tug forcing me to smirk. In Smolder form, I could slip into the darkness undetected by her assassins. This altered appearance would also allow me to see the different time dimensions by tearing the overlapping plains apart. It was how I planned to reach her because the Smolder’s power was more like
how the crow flies
but on speed. The only drawback was if there were not a lot of Time Obstacles in the way. Not everything moved through them the same way, especially when the dimensions overlap.