"You startin' to sound like Maggie. It's just a headache. It'll be gone soon enough," Mama sighed deeply. "Why are you still around, child?"

"I promised Maggie I would be," Brigit answered. "I like to keep my promises. Does she know I'm still around?"

"I think so," Mama Dee replied. "She's pretty upset about what happened with that Rubens girl. Was that you that caused the ruckus?"

"Yes, Mama," Brigit replied honestly. "She wasn't right for Maggie."

"That makes two of us that think that. I'm glad you're still here. I miss you and I know Maggie misses you too, even though she says she feels like you're with her every night."

"I am with her every night, for the most part. I tried to be fair about the Rubens girl, but I guess my jealousy got the better of me," Brigit laughed lightly. "Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

"I'm fine, child. Do you want me to tell Maggie anything?"

"Just tell her that I'm going to be busy with work for a bit, but that I'll be back with her as soon as I can. I've run into some snags at the office and I have to take care of them before I can rest some."

"What are you talkin' about? Work? The office? Child, what are you doin' now that you're dead?" Mama Dee asked, her face wrinkling in the confusion of it all. Brigit noticed, however, that the woman still didn't open her eyes.

"I'm a Grim Reaper, Mama Dee," Brigit revealed. "I pa.s.s over souls that are waiting."

"Oh, good lord! Is it my time?" the old woman asked suddenly. The fear of the thought expressed itself clearly on her face, but Mama Dee still didn't open her eyes. Brigit only laughed.

"No, Mama. I'm not here for you. You're still very much alive."

"Thank you, Jesus! You scared me for a minute," Mama Dee chuckled, patting her heart as if to calm it down. "I don't suppose you'd want me to tell Maggie all that?"

"No, I don't think she'd understand any of it right now. Besides, Mama, when your time comes, it won't be me that will come for you. You're a part of my family and it's against the rules for us to reap our own."

"Since when does the Grim Reaper have rules?" Mama Dee asked. Brigit laughed out loud this time.

"Don't believe everything you read or hear, Mama. Trust me on that one. Just tell Maggie that I love her, will you?" She requested.

"I will, Brigit," Mama Dee sighed.

"And go see a doctor."

"Go on with yourself," Mama Dee shooed with a wave of her hand in Brigit's direction. "Visit again, child. I sure do miss you."

"I miss you too, Mama." Brigit said as she opened the door to Mama Dee's apartment and let herself out. She had been hoping there would be some way she could communicate with her old friend. After that day in the kitchen when Mama Dee had strongly urged her to keep an eye on Maggie, Brigit had held firm to the hope that she would have another chance to converse with her friend. That day had finally happened and Brigit felt herself smiling joyfully as she pulled the first file out of her pocket. For the moment, her problem back at the office was the furthest thing from her mind.

Mama Dee opened her eyes and exhaled slowly. She had known that Brigit had been around all along. She had been hoping the girl's spirit would eventually reach out to make contact. It was a gift she had borne for years, but kept hidden due to the stigma that surrounded it. In her day, admitting that one could see or hear the dead on a regular basis would only lead to trouble. Especially if your daddy was a deacon of the church... As a result, Mama Dee had never mentioned to anyone that she could talk to the dead. She had just been biding her time until Brigit figured it out and made contact on her own.

As the old woman sat up, she thought about Brigit's revelation of her new occupation. The idea of the Grim Reaper unsettled Mama Dee. It had long been a superst.i.tion she had kept a deep reverence for, sure that when her own time came that it would be the Grim Reaper that would take her. There were rules, Brigit had said. Mama Dee slowly shook her head with the thought. It was too bad. Mama Dee had the thought that it would be nice to see a familiar and loving face to help her through the moment that she knew was coming upon her soon...

21: Belinda Yaris

Brigit stood on the sidewalk reading the portfolio carefully. Her a.s.signment was located in the station below, waiting for the pa.s.sage to her fate on the subway train that was due to arrive soon. As Brigit read the file, she wondered how they had managed to overlook the potential of the subject as a recruit. John had scoured every file or so he had said and found only a few acceptable candidates. As she read, Brigit wondered why Belinda Yaris had not been considered.

Belinda Yaris, aged twenty-three, had been the victim of a fatal mugging on the north bound N train from Brooklyn. Her dream had been to be a writer, but that dream had been cut short by the long end of a switch blade. She was a good kid with an a.n.a.lytical mind, organized work ethic and an imagination to reach across the universe and back. She possessed perfect qualities to be a Reaper, and Brigit's mind was boggled by the thought of pa.s.sing this one by. Besides, at this point, she needed all the help she could find.

Closing the file, Brigit rushed down the subway entrance stairs and stood patiently on the platform. Down the tunnel, she could see the light of the approaching train. It would stop for only a few seconds and Brigit knew she would have to find the car that contained Belinda fast before the train continued on its scheduled course.

As it rumbled into the station and came to a screeching halt beside the platform, Brigit rapidly scanned each car as she walked past. Finally, in the last car, the Reaper found Belinda Yaris standing with her back against the opposite door. Silently, Brigit stepped into the car as the doors whooshed shut behind her.

Leveling her dark eyes on the subject of her a.s.signment, Brigit realized that Belinda was staring at her. Yet, her bright blue eyes seemed to look through rather than at the Reaper that had stepped onto the otherwise empty car. The heavy black eyeliner around those bright blue eyes seemed to emphasize the sense of apathy and boredom Belinda Yaris had succ.u.mbed to during the years of waiting for something to happen. As she looked deep into those bright blue -- yet bored -- eyes, Brigit had the thought that Belinda Yaris had succ.u.mbed to that sense of apathetic boredom long before she had ceased her existence as a mortal. Almost everyone Brigit had ever known to be a partic.i.p.ant of the 'Goth' culture seemed to be bored with life almost from the moment they had finally confirmed their darker ident.i.ties.

"Belinda Yaris," Brigit addressed the young woman out loud. She noted the sudden acknowledgement of her presence by the young woman by the keen focus of those bright blue eyes. They no longer looked through, but rather, at her.

"h.e.l.lo," the young woman replied. "You can see me?"

"I can," Brigit answered. She sensed a feeling of relief pa.s.s through the young woman standing across from her. "My name is Brigit."

"I'm so happy to meet you," Belinda gushed before she rushed to cross the short width of the subway car. Brigit barely had time to react when Belinda threw her arms around the dark woman's neck in a grateful hug. "Finally, someone who can see and hear me! It's been so long since I've had a real conversation. Last week," Brigit finally managed to push the young woman off her, but their separation did not cease Belinda's ramble. "I tried to talk to this crazy, old homeless man, because I just knew he could see me; but, he turned and ran out of here screaming. It really made me sad. I almost cried," Brigit watched the young woman begin to pout with the memory of the episode. "But now, here you are and you can see me and talk to me. Hey, that's an awesome coat," Belinda said as she noticed the sequins on the lapels of Brigit's black coat.

"Thank you," Brigit replied. "Belinda, I have a proposal for you,"

"Where did you get it? I've been wanting a pirate's coat for forever," Belinda cooed.

"It's something I've had for years," Brigit explained before catching herself. "Belinda, you do realize you're no longer living, right?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I've known for years now. It's too bad that I was wearing this this, though," she waved her hand downward to indicated the ragged black knit shirt with slashed long sleeves, the ankle length black skirt with overly large safety pins as b.u.t.tons on the pockets and the well worn military boots on her feet. "Not exactly the outfit I would have picked for my last moments on earth, you know? I definitely had better."

"I can only imagine," Brigit replied as she eyed the young woman's attire. "Anyway, I have a proposition for you."

"Oh yeah? Would it mean finally getting off this stupid train for good?" Belinda asked, readjusting the weight of the black leather bag that hand off her shoulder. In its swing, Brigit recognized it to be in the shape of a coffin.

"It would," Brigit answered.

"Then, I'm in," Belinda immediately said.

"But you don't even know what I'm about to offer you," Brigit pointed out in surprise.

"Doesn't matter," Belinda replied. "If it gets me off this f.u.c.king train, I'll do it. You have no idea what it's like to be trapped on this thing every day and night. It's disgusting most of the time. I see people puking or p.i.s.sing in the corner, shooting junk into their veins at three in the morning. Oh, sure, it gets cleaned up before the early morning rush; but most of the time, I simply can't stand it. Especially when I see my friends come on, or I see him him, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d that knifed me for my purse..."

Brigit watched as the other woman covered the coffin purse protectively. Almost as soon as she did so, the train lurched to signal its attempt to slow down in its approach of the next station. Brigit glanced behind her and then returned her gaze to the young woman before her.

"Brigit, please, you have to get me off this train," Belinda pleaded.

As the train came to a grinding halt beside the platform, Brigit eyed the young woman one last moment. The doors whooshed open behind her as she made a resolute decision.

"Very well, take my hand," she instructed. Without hesitation, Belinda grasped Brigit's outstretched hand and smiled a huge smile as Brigit guided her off the subway car. As soon as they were both safely on the platform, the doors slammed shut once more and the train hurtled back into motion.

"So, what do I have to do?" Belinda asked when the noise from the departing train had finally died away.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a Grim Reaper Grim Reaper?" Brigit asked. Belinda looked at her savior in sudden surprise.

"No s.h.i.t? You're a ..." the young woman was suddenly at a loss for words. Brigit felt herself smiling in acknowledgement of the Goth girl's awe. "No f.u.c.king kidding? Really? Holy s.h.i.t," Belinda finally managed to get out. "I'd love to! What do I have to do?"

"For the time being, follow me and observe closely. You're training begins this second. Unfortunately," Brigit tucked Belinda's file into her coat's breast pocket to make sure it would not end up back with the piles of a.s.signments it had come from. "I don't have the time to train you by the book, so you'll have to go through on-the-job-training. Here," she withdrew her field guide from the hip pocket of her coat, "read this while we're between a.s.signments. Ask questions as they come to mind. I'll do my best to answer them," Brigit promised as she hooked her umbrella over her arm and reached for a new a.s.signment. Belinda, who had been scanning the first page of the small book she had been handed, suddenly looked up at her.

"Why me?"

"Because you said you would," Brigit replied with a slight smile. "Come, we've got a lot of work to do."

"No, really, why did you pick me? Surely you made some sort of decision before you even got onto the train. Why?" Belinda asked as she fell in behind Brigit and followed her up the stairs leading to the street level.

"I'm down two Reapers right now. You have a solid mind and a calm sense about you. If I can train you quickly, I won't be too far behind on my work," Brigit explained as she read the file in her hand. Everything she had said was the truth. The only admission was her hope that John wouldn't come completely unglued once he found out all that had happened during his absence.

"Then, teach me, oh-great-Grim-Reaper," Belinda intoned. "I will be clay in your skilled hands,"

"Don't get too enamored," Brigit warned. "It's not as easy as you might think and it's definitely not as morbid."

"Who cares? I'm off the train. Show me what you got," Belinda replied with an indifferent shrug.

"Okay, then. We're off to the first a.s.signment," Brigit explained as she turned away. "Read your field guide."

"Reading now, oh-great-one," Belinda quipped as she fell in beside Brigit.

"Stop that," Brigit muttered.

"Yes, oh-great-one..."

22: Seamus on Fire

His mouth was dry, as dry as any desert plain he could ever imagine. Twice, he lolled his tongue across the top palate of his mouth trying to form enough spit just so he could swallow and ease the cracked walls of this throat, but nothing came. He had even tried licking his lips to calm the dryness there, but his tongue lacked the moisture to bring even that slight respite.

His body was on fire, searing away any moisture that might form within him to bring him any second of relief. He could feel it flowing through his veins to burst from his skin. When he could open his eyes, he could see the walls of his office slowly wavering from the heat that he emitted from where Brigit had dumped him on the couch. She had shown an ounce of mercy in covering him with a blanket before she had abandoned him to burn in the flames. Somewhere over the course of the infection, however, he had inadvertently kicked it to the floor beside him. It would have helped, he had the thought, to put out the flames that sprang like lava plumes of an angry volcano from every pore of his mangled body.

Seamus wondered how long it would be before he had a moment's peace from the inferno he was enduring. John Blackwick had told him that the degree of a mauling determined the degree of the infection. As he wondered which particular level of h.e.l.l he was wandering through, Seamus came to the conclusion that he must be badly damaged. He only wished he had the strength to examine his wounds. Then, he'd have even more of an excuse to kill the female Reaper once he was fully recovered.

He remembered uttering those words to her before pa.s.sing out. How she had managed to bring him back to the main office, he didn't know. He didn't care. She had said her presence during the a.s.signment had been to provide back up; yet, when the charge had been sounded, Brigit Malone had remained behind in the shadows. Seamus had been left to deal with the Chupacabras by himself, as he remembered it. Five to one had not been a fair fight, especially after he had lost the shelaighley. Yet, being a true warrior, the brave soldier with the blood of a fighting Irishman borne from the direct descendents of the fearless Fiona of legend, Seamus Flannery had fought hard in completing the a.s.signment. He had succeeded, he remembered it all clearly. Brigit had only finally come to his aide after his collapse. Too little, too late, Seamus thought.

A creak of the wood floor in the main hall pulled Seamus from his fiery thoughts. Brigit had not been back to the office since she had left him to roast with the vicious fever of the infection. By his count, that had been a couple of days gone by now. Had she finally returned?

"Oy!"

The call came out more a groan than a coherent word. Seamus licked his lips and swallowed hard in the attempt to dampen his vocal chords.

"Oy!" he called again.

It must have been more coherent this time, he thought. The gentle creak of the wood ceased its quiet echo off the walls of the main hall. Someone was there. Seamus could feel the chill emanating from the soul that was standing just outside the closed door to his office. Though he wanted to close his eyes in the sudden relief from the burning of his body, he knew he couldn't allow himself to be so vulnerable to an unknown presence. Instead, he kept his emerald daggers poised at the door, hoping that he would be able to summon some amount of strength to try to save himself if there were to be an attack.

"Who's out there? Show yer bleedin' self," he commanded, trying to sound stronger than he actually was. "C'mon! Show yerself!"

Slowly, the door swung open and Seamus felt his head jerk back with the sight of the figure before him. The pale man (if it was a man, Seamus mused...) dressed in tattered black robes stood just inside the door frame. His eyes were wide in fear and bewilderment.

"Who the f.o.o.k are you?" Seamus demanded.

"Bailey," came the hoa.r.s.e whisper of a reply.

"Do ye work here too?" A silent nod was his only answer. "What department?"

"Bailey," the pale man said again. Seamus closed his eyes finally. The chill reaching out from the pale man was so soothing. It allowed Seamus to focus his thoughts a little more clearly.

"I know yer bleedin' name, man. What do you do for the firm?" he asked, hoping to get an actual answer. "What is yer job?"

"Bailey," the word came a third time and Seamus groaned in frustration rather than pain. An intelligent conversation was obviously not going to happen. Seamus didn't have the patience to try to drag one out of the pale man either.

"Well, do me a favor, Mr. Bailey," Seamus instructed. "Find John Blackwick and bring him back. Tell him things are sorely amiss at the office. Tell him Seamus said so. Do ye understand me?"

"Where?" the Bailey asked. Seamus let his eyes open and take in the pale figure that suddenly reminded him of all the pictures he had ever seen representing the figure of Death the conjured image of what a Grim Reaper truly looked like.

"Italy," Seamus finally said, drawing on the infuriating memory of Brigit telling him that John had gone for a few days. "Fetch him at once," the Irishman instructed sternly. The Bailey nodded in comprehension and began to back slowly from the small office, taking with him the cool energy that Seamus had been finding such comfort in.

When the Bailey had gone, Seamus closed his eyes again. He could feel it returning, the fire of the infection coursing through his veins. He only had a few minutes, he knew, before he would be engulfed in the searing flames that threatened to scar him for all eternity. He was lucid. He needed to gather his wits quickly and begin to formulate his strategy for vengeance. Calculations could be made on another day, when the fires were finally gone from his being. At the moment, Seamus determined, he had to begin the blue print to the end of days for Brigit Malone.

23: The Reaper's Apprentice

"So, how do you know what weapon will be right for you? I mean, how did you choose an umbrella over, say, a bow and arrow? How about swords? Can we pick a sword?"

Brigit sighed as she tucked the last completed a.s.signment into the pocket that held all the others. Belinda Yaris had not ceased with the questions since she had completed reading The Reaper's Field Guide The Reaper's Field Guide. As the questions rolled one after the other with barely a moment in between to receive an answer, Brigit silently began to wish that the field guide had been written with more consideration to the mentor and their time. At some point during the barrage of inquiries, Brigit had simply began offering an 'I don't know' 'I don't know' and and 'That's a good question' 'That's a good question' as a reply to her new apprentice especially when a question had come in the middle of a scuffle with a dark spirit that had no desire to cross over peacefully. as a reply to her new apprentice especially when a question had come in the middle of a scuffle with a dark spirit that had no desire to cross over peacefully.

"We'll come to that when we return," Brigit said quietly.

Suddenly, she felt tired. They had been working non-stop for two days, unable to return to the office to refresh their a.s.signments or so that she could check on Seamus Flannery. Her mind had been divided into too many directions throughout their travels. On the one hand, she was focused on their a.s.signments and the a.s.sessment of Belinda Yaris wondering if she had made a good choice in offering a position to the Goth girl with an endless supply of pertinent questions. On the other hand, she found herself worrying that she should have done more for Seamus in his mangled state and the subsequent illness that Brigit knew would beset itself upon him. Behind all that, she wondered how she would explain it all to John when he returned. Running delicately between all these thoughts was the deep missing of Maggie.