“Cheer Reaper, Ripley, remember.”
Ripley laughed slightly in spite of herself. “Changing the name does not change reality, hun. Call us Cheer Reapers all you want, fact of the matter is we’re death personified.”
“Well….”
“And now he’s about to die, at just thirty-six, and I’m going to have to go and collect his soul in all my Grim Reaper fucking glory.” Head dropping into her hands, Ripley couldn’t help but spend a moment thinking about the unfairness of it all. Unfair that she’d only been given twenty-nine years of life, that she’d only got to spend five of them with Nick, and that now, just a handful of years later, she’d have to rip his soul from his body. What if he had re-married? If he had kids, the kids she’d wanted to have with him? She’d be ripping apart more than just one life.
Ripley. It couldn’t be more apt.
“Have you seen him since?” Luce asked softly.
Ripley shook her head. “No. How could I? He hasn’t been on the list before now.”
“I’ve heard of other Reapers sneaking off to see their loved ones.”
Ripley shuddered. “God, no. I’d probably have ended up haunting him, or doing something equally as stupid. Leaving him once was bad enough, and I had no choice. Going back I don’t think I could do that, leave him again I mean. I don’t know what I’d do.”
Lucia nodded, and the two looked at one another for a moment. “But you think you can do this?”
“I have to. He’s expected above, I know I won’t get to keep him, just to take him where he’s meant to be. I can do this.”
Lucia stood up and poured them both another cup of coffee. Ripley got the impression that the other woman was steeling herself to say something.
“Look, Rip,” she began as she passed the fresh cup across. “I know this is going to be hard, seeing as what you just told me and all. But we’ve done this thousands of times, yeah? Remember when I had to go and collect my high school English teacher? Yeah, okay, not really the same thing I’ll admit, but it was still pretty freaky. But it’s the job. How many times have you told me that? It’s not like you’ve decided his time is up. It just is.”
“This will be different,” Ripley whispered.
“Yes but—”
“No but, Luce. Think for a moment. It’s scheduled for Christmas night. The only time in the whole year our competitors actively go looking for souls to claim. I’ll have to get to him before they do. I’ll have to be there at the very moment of his death. A second too late and they’ll pounce, and then….”
“You’ll get there,” Lucia insisted.
Ripley looked away from her friend, not wanting her to see the worry and pain she knew was shining clearly in her eyes. “He’s number ninety-nine on the list, Luce. If I fail, and there’s a damn good chance I will, he’ll spend an eternity burning in the flames. And if by some miracle I manage it, he’ll have a one way ticket above…either way….” Ripley gulped the lump in her throat down and blinked away the treacherous moisture. “Either way it’ll finally be the end.”
Chapter Four
Christmas day did not start well for Nick. He was awoken, far too early, by a repetitive pounding on the front door. He stumbled out of bed on shaky legs and looked through the curtains to see his sister tapping her foot impatiently on the threadbare welcome mat. He knew immediately why she’d come. He’d refused dinner with his younger sister, Emily, the night before and nothing was likely to get Mary’s ire up than a refused invitation, even if she wasn’t the one giving it. But then Mary was his oldest and bossiest sister—without even the lure of playful, uncomplicated nieces and nephews to entice him around to her house—and though Nick knew it was harsh of him he had taken to avoiding her of late.
Emily was another matter and ordinarily Nick might have said yes to her invitation. But already after being out of bed for less than a minute his head ached intolerably and was only bound to get worse. He didn’t think the company of a half dozen children would help that.
He lurched into the bathroom, ignoring Mary’s continual pounding, and drank a pint of water straight down. The water sloshed in his empty stomach, and he frowned remembering the awful scrambled eggs he’d tried to make himself the night before.
Four painkillers followed the water but did little to subdue the pain. As he made his way to the front door, dragging on a pair of jeans, it occurred to Nick, in an abstract sort of way, that it really might be time to do something about the constant headaches. Katie would have insisted he see a doctor. In fact, now that he thought about it Nick was pretty sure she’d have taken him to one years ago. She was always on top of things like that.
“Just come to make sure you’re okay, Nicholas,” Mary said when he finally opened the door. “Yes, I know it is Christmas morning, and yes, you have dragged me away from Kevin, but not to worry.”
The morning light was far too bright, though it shouldn’t be. It was winter after all, and Nick recoiled slightly from the glare.
“You look like shit,” Mary added.
Nick sighed. “I’m just fine, sis.”
She swept into his home, scrunching her nose at the sight in front of her. “This place gets worse every single time I visit.”
“Well….”
“There’s no ‘well’ about it, Nicholas.”
Nick rubbed his eyes, which the sunlight still stung, and looked around the room. It was true that with the excessive daytime light filtering into the small sitting room everything looked a little on the grim side. He rarely got to see it at this time of day. He was out of the door for work in the early hours of the morning, and it was dark when he returned. In fact, it was not unknown for Nick to work a twelve-hour day. What, after all, was there for him to come home to? He only wished he could have worked Christmas too.
“It suits me just fine.”
“It suited you just fine five years ago. It suited you both fine then but now.” Mary sighed, and Nicholas tore his gaze from the sympathy he could see in her eyes.
“Please, Mary, let’s not get into this now.” After another restless night with Katie foremost in his thoughts, Nick did not feel like raking everything up again. There was only so much he could take, and several days of it was the tipping point. Today could not be another Katie day. He simply was not strong enough for it.
Shaking the drapes, Mary sniffed. “Who else will get into it but me? You spend every holiday these days in this place by yourself, surrounded by her things. I mean really, Nick.” She shook the drapes again. “Look at these. They’re faded beyond belief.”
Nick sat down on the sagging couch and ran a hand across his neck, shocked to feel beads of sweat coating it. “I spent Easter with the family.”
“That was months ago.”
Was he becoming feverish? And had it really been that long? “Yes, I guess that’s true….”
“And since then nothing.” She paused before patting the couch and sitting down next to him. “It’s been five years, Nick.”
A virus would make sense, explain the increase in the head pain he could feel. But the headaches had been around so long and viruses lasted a few days at most. Nick frowned unsure what to think.
“Five years,” Mary repeated.
“I know that,” he said, wondering for the millionth time why people, specifically his family and few friends, thought that saying the number would make a difference. He knew how many years it had been, how many months, how many weeks, and how many days. He felt it every morning and every night and being told over and over made no damn difference. And, yes, intellectually Nick knew that enough time had passed for him to start thinking about moving on, but his heart, well, it wouldn’t listen.
“Did you come around simply to lecture me?” he asked.
“I came for....” Mary hesitated, her lips pursed into a scowl before shaking her head. “You’re not going to like this but, well, it’s time.”
Nick frowned—pretty sure that he was beginning to run a fever—and wished Mary would just get to the damn point. “What?”
“I’m throwing a dinner party tonight, Christmas-themed obviously. Everyone is going to come in costume, even Em and the kids. And we’re having some friends and such too, and well, you remember Anita?”
A strange, nasty feeling slithered up Nick’s spine, and he clenched his fists. “Please tell me that you are not going to say what I think you’re going to say.”
“You should come. It’ll do you good. You refused Em’s invitation after all.”
How many times had Nick heard how good things would be for him? Spending more time with friends. Going out more often. Dating…he swallowed down a lump in his throat. The very idea made him feel panicky, wrong, ill. “Not going to happen.”
“Nick—”
“What you’re suggesting….” To replace Katie with someone else? To wrap his arms around another woman, to kiss another person’s lips? Someone else sighing his name? Nausea reared, his head pounded, and Nick stood up abruptly. “Seriously, Mary, I do not want to hear this.”