Deadly Kisses

“It’s my granddaughter.” His stiff hand moved to her head, smoothing down her yellow hair.

She sat up in alarm and eyed the heart monitor, ruining my view. “Did you say something, Granddad? Do you want more pain medication?”

“Damn, dude, you must be like one hundred because she has got to be about my age. Seventeen?”

“Yes.” The old man croaked. The girl pressed the call button, but he was looking at me with brown, watery eyes.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Time was up, and I yearned for the temporary warmth of his soul. “Here’s how this is going down. When I collect your soul, your heart will stop beating. You have to come with me, but your physical body stays right there on the bed. You’re going to be foggy-looking until I deliver you to a little place called Destination Forever. Once there, your soul will be returned to you, giving you a normal appearance again. Now, do you have any regrets?”

He moved with a slight twist that looked like a no.

“Good, because if you did, you would be stuck with me, a dead president, and a black cloak. Just stay still and it will go faster.” This wasn’t my dream job, so the quicker I collected the soul and delivered it the better. I tracked, reaped, and delivered within days even though I was given a week to complete an assignment.

I leaned in close. He started to whimper and pull back. I became annoyed. “I do this all the time and don’t want to brag, but I’m that good. As long as you’ve got no regrets, your pain will disappear. Do you want that?”

I was inches from his face. The corner of the old man’s mouth twitched and rose. The scythe heated up and my bony hand hovered over his heart. I placed my mouth to his dry cracked lips and drank up his soul. He didn’t flinch. His soul filled my body. It tasted old, sour, and provided little of the warmth I craved, but I took what I could get.

When the slow thud of his heart stopped, I pulled away to watch the chaos that followed. It was always a sight. The heart monitor went flat with a long, drawn-out note, and the hottie started to cry.

Flawless performance.

“Let’s go, old dude. Got places to go and more people to reap.”

My arm rose, the sleeve of the cloak hanging heavy like death itself, as I pointed toward the door.

“I haven’t walked in two years.”

This was going to be good. He would think I was a miracle worker.

“You can walk now. Isn’t death grand? Come on, upsie daisy. Put one foot in front of the other.”

He finally got up and started to follow me. We walked out of the hospital, through the streets of Manchester, New Hampshire, and to the nearest cemetery. Crypts were the only way to enter and exit the world of the living, if you used a gondola for your mode of transportation. It prevented traffic jams. I never asked how Grim Reapers who drove cars entered through the veil to the other side.

The path led us to the small stone structure that stood in the middle of the cemetery.

I opened the door to the crypt, which led to the underground river. I gently pushed him through the doorway, and sealed it closed behind us with the power of my scythe.

In the dark cave, water dripped off the edges of stones, making slight ripples in the river. The old man turned to stare at me when he saw my rig by the edge of the water. “Where are you taking me?”

I hated when they stared. I pointed to my gondola. It needed a wax job, and the side was scratched. It must have happened when it skidded over a rock the other day.

My phone rang again. I growled, and the man practically ran. I sent the call to voicemail, which meant Abe would text me to death. No pun intended.

My phone beeped, and I read the text he sent me.

Boy, be ready for your next assignment in 30. The battle is on. I’m on my way to the 14th. Better figure out who the 14th is boy, and fast.

Abraham Lincoln was my Grim Reaper boss. I mean, I’d flunked history twice, and now I was bonded through death to one of the biggest names in American history. Because he reaped me, a small part of his soul lingered in me and I could feel his emotions—when he wanted me to.

I swear Abe lived to torture me. He would badger me until I ascended to Heaven or Hell. For some unknown reason, Abe had issues with Grim Reapers under the age of eighteen.

The old man stepped into the boat, hesitant to sit down. “You’re not going to Hell. We are on a one-way trip to Heaven, so sit.” I lifted the cloak and stepped into my gondola. “Do you happen to know who the fourteenth president was?”

The old man sat down and was as still as possible. He wouldn’t look at me. “Come on, you’re older than dirt. You gotta know,” I said as I pushed off the bottom of the river. We moved with the current at a swift pace.

“Pierce,” he said.

“You sure?” He was old and his memory might not be as good as it could be, so I did an Internet search on my smartphone about Pierce. Sure enough, he was number fourteen. His homestead was in Hillsborough, only miles away. “Excellent. Thanks.”

The moans of the lost souls erupted from the river, filling every crevice of the stone cave. This was the point where the million and one questions began to roll in about Hell.

A skeletal hand reached up from the murky water and grabbed the edge of my gondola. The old man jumped and almost tipped us. I thought of the skeletons as drunken groupies at a concert, but in reality, they had once been Grim Reapers. I smashed the thing with my boot, sending it back into the river, and the old man moved to the middle of the seat. We were almost to the entrance of the Golden Gate.

Low talking echoed over the moaning, and I looked up to see another Grim Reaper through the veil of moss that hung from the stone above. As they moved past us, I could see the person in the back of the gondola hunched over in a tight fog-like ball. A dark shadow hovered near him, ready to devour the negative energy when his soul was returned to him at the Gates of Hell. It sucked to be that person.

I’d rather deal with my drunken mother than the demons of Hell. I shuddered at the thought of it. Their stink was enough to make you gag, never mind the pointy tails and horns. I was glad Abe didn’t send me there often.

I steered the gondola to the right, stopping in front of the Golden Gates. Its warmth washed over me and I felt the enticement to ascend, but it was overpowered by my regret.

The old man smiled as I pointed to the gate. He climbed out and walked away without even a thank you. I yelled to him, “Hope you enjoyed your ride on my rig of death. Please exit on the right and have a golden lovely day. Don’t come back now.”

I opened my mouth to release his soul. It came out white and glittery, following behind him. The gatekeeper collected it. He would return it to the old man later, making him look like a ghost instead of the blurred fog he was now.

I went ice cold again.

I pushed the gondola away from the sickly warmth of the Golden Gate and steered my rig southwest, to the meeting point at the Franklin Pierce Homestead. Good thing for Google and a smart old man to help me figure out that historical fact.

I swallowed the black licorice taste that lingered from the reap, and imagined the sweetest candy. My mouth tingled, remembering sucking on Sweet Tarts as a kid. It left an ache in my heart, because it reminded me of her and of my past.

I arrived at the meeting point a few minutes before Abe. Even if we hadn’t been bonded by death, I’d know it was him walking toward me because of the long beard draped over the top of his black cloak.

“Ah, boy, excellent job. You have found the home of our fourteenth president. History is alive, feel it.”

“What’s happening, Top Hat? What do you have for me now, another sour old man? The guy who chopped his leg off with a chainsaw last week was a sight. No more water, because the one I had to go reap from drowning left water stains on the new paint job.” I pointed to the dark spot on the floor. “Give me all the nasty ones, don’t you?”

“Young Reaperling, how else would I get you to fight in my war? Besides, a busy Reaper is a Reaper who stays out of trouble. I told you death is not pretty, but essential, and you cannot always choose how they will die.” A long bony finger poked me. “If I could die again it would be you who would put me in my grave.”

“I take that as a compliment. Thank you.” I reached out and smoothed the crease in the front of his cloak. It reminded me of what my mom had done for me countless times before she started drinking—when she cared.

He pulled at his long bushy beard. “Young people have no respect for their elders. I don’t care if you’re my most efficient Reaper, you should listen to me and ascend. So help me if anyone else your age decides to hold onto their regret.”

I took out my phone. “Just hurry up and send me the next assignment because I have to go and buff out scratches. I think I got another one during the last transport.”

“Don’t be so quick to receive this assignment, boy, because it’s the one that will make or break you.” Abe’s face went from cheerful to dreadful. His high cheekbones were more prominent and his brown eyes held sorrow. His panic shadowed over me, and I felt it seeping into the decayed marrow in my bones.

“Give it to me straight, big guy. I can handle it.”

Abe pushed send on his phone and seconds later the text reached me. I tapped the screen and the seven-day countdown app started. Precious seconds of life began to tick away.

I looked at my assignment’s personal information. The picture stared back at me. I hadn’t seen her in two years, but she looked the same. My scythe fell to the wooden bottom of the gondola, and I dropped to my knees.

“This can’t be happening.”

“You haven’t read the Manual of Death, have you, Ad?” Abe said. “This is the final test.”

“I haven’t got around to reading the manual.”

A wisp of fog went in and out of my mouth as I struggled for air my body no longer needed. Abe bent down and put his hand on my back. His long legs reached over the edge of my gondola and up to my shoulders. “If you don’t reap the soul that is assigned to you . . .”

“I know, I know. Fail to reap and I end up a tossed skeleton in the River of Lost Souls, ceasing to exist on any plane.”

Abe let go of me, held his hat, and stood up.

“But Bee would still die?” There was no way around the master List of Death, but my blood boiled that Bee had made it to the top. It wasn’t fair. I could make her death quick. It was the least I could do after what I did to her family, but it was too soon. She was only sixteen.

“The assignment would be passed down to Reina if you fail.”