"Thank you, Mama," Maggie sighed.

"You want me to stay with you tonight?" Mama Dee offered.

"No, that's okay. I'll be okay," Maggie replied as she stood. She wrapped her arms around the little old woman that had been her rock during the last week. "I think we both need to get some rest."

"Okay then," Mama Dee said as she patted the younger woman's back. "You holler if you need anything."

"I will," Maggie promised. She opened the door for her friend and watched as the woman shuffled out.

"I'm proud of you, Maggie," Mama Dee said suddenly when she was out in the hall.

"Why?" Maggie asked, confused by the comment.

"You were Brigit's family. That woman had no business even showing up today; but you showed her kindness and patience. I just hope she recognizes that somewhere down the road. I'm proud of you for keeping your claim on Brigit."

"Thank you, Mama," Maggie said quietly. She watched Mama Dee continue her shuffle across the hall to her own apartment and open the door. The little old woman didn't look back as she entered and closed the door behind her.

Maggie returned to the sofa and sighed again. The apartment was still filled with Brigit's energy. Everything in it contained some piece of her essence and Maggie found it to be a double-edged sword. She was alone with it. Part of it comforted her and the other part broke her heart even more. She hoped that eventually, she would come to terms with both sides of it and be able to breathe again.

Brigit watched as Maggie turned and lifted her feet up onto the sofa. She had been sleeping there all week. It was a defense against the memories that flooded their bedroom during the darkness of night. Brigit didn't blame her. She didn't think she could return there so soon either. She had refrained from entering that room herself since the accident. She knew there were just as many memories there for her as there were for Maggie. She would wait for Maggie to go there and they would face those memories together, just as they had faced everything in their life together.

Her thoughts turned once more to John Blackwick. He said he wanted to have a conversation. She was still wondering what he had meant by an opportunity to remain an opportunity to remain. He had instructed her to meet him at the Bleecker Street Cafe tomorrow. As far as she knew, there wasn't such a place; but he had given her a card. Upon remembering it, Brigit quickly pulled it from the pocket of her coat. She turned it over to read:

REAPERS, INC.

EST. 34 A.D.

666 BLEECKER STREET.

It was a simple card. Black ink written on white stock paper. Brigit held it between her finger tips as she looked over at Maggie. Her eyes were closed and the depth of her breath indicated that she was close to sleep.

Brigit's eyes snapped back to the card she held and she thought of what John had said about choices. She had received no choice in when her life had ended, yet, she had made the choice to remain by Maggie's side even though she was a ghost. He had mentioned having a choice in carrying out his a.s.signment in regard to her. Brigit began to wonder what exactly that meant. Reapers, Inc Reapers, Inc., her eyes read again. She was beginning to have the sense that she might not really have a choice in staying with Maggie if she didn't hear him out.

Her curiosity was sparked. She slowly placed the card back into her coat pocket and let her gaze rest on Maggie. She decided she would meet him tomorrow and hear what he had to offer. She would see what her options were in the after life. Whatever they were, she would take the one that would allow her to stay with Maggie. She would do whatever it took to watch over her lover. She had made that promise to Maggie and she would do whatever it took to keep it.

5: The Bleecker Street Cafe

It was a macabre feeling standing outside the cafe. At least, Brigit imagined it could be described as 'macabre'. She could see the people patronizing the establishment and she wondered briefly whether they could see her as well. The feeling unnerved her because just two weeks ago, she knew this address to have been nothing more than an empty lot littered with garbage and the homeless. She was on the other side of life now and she knew that the building she stood before now was as much of a ghost as she was.

The cafe was relatively quiet when she entered. Brigit noted the old man sitting by the window to her right. There was a longing look in his old eyes as he gazed through the gla.s.s at the movement of life on the sidewalk outside. His fingers rested lightly on the ear of the teacup before him. The sense of deep sadness that emanated from his direction reached out to Brigit with invisible arms looking to embrace her. She took a step back and let her eyes continue to roam the room until they rested on the profile of the man she had come to talk to.

John Blackwick was sitting at the counter, studying the pages of a thin black book. There was a solemn expression on his face as he read. Brigit eyed him steadily as she slowed her approach of him. To her, he looked like a man resigned to his fate as if it didn't matter one way or the other to him what would happen in the next minute of his existence.

"So, you've decided to come," John said without looking up from his book. "Please, have a seat," he offered.

"How did you know it was me?" Brigit asked as she unb.u.t.toned her coat and slid onto the stool beside him.

"You have a certain energy, Brigit. You also smell faintly of French Lavender French Lavender," John pointed out as he softly closed the black book and forced a faint smile to his face. Brigit met his gaze and noted that his eyes were not smiling. In fact, there was no expression at all in them and it bothered her. It suddenly occurred to her that during each of their stare downs over the last week and a half, there had never been an expression of any kind in his ice blue eyes.

"Maggie loves the smell of French lavender," Brigit said quietly, forcing her self to ignore the thought that John Blackwick's gaze could probably pierce a stone wall if he stared at it long enough. "You said you have a proposition for me," she reminded. She wanted to get to the point behind his stalking of her. "I'm listening."

"Excellent! Would you like some coffee while we talk?" John offered. As if it were his cue, a waiter appeared from the kitchen and smiled as if he were seeing long lost friends sitting at the bar. Confused, Brigit looked back and forth from the waiter to John.

"Are you kidding?" The confusion was mounting by the second at the idea of being a ghost and drinking a warm cup of coffee. It had been almost two weeks. She hadn't realized that her only addiction was suddenly no longer a part of her daily existence until the second the word had escaped from John's mouth. In response to the suggestion, a sudden craving for a cup of her favorite drink awoke within her.

"Not in the least," John replied. "How do you take it?"

"How do I take what?"

"Your coffee-how do you like it?" John asked.

"Two sugars and some cream," Brigit managed to reply. "Is this going to take long?" As the question came out, the waiter turned away and began to prepare a cup for her.

"That depends on your decision," John answered. Brigit glanced at him and saw the faint smile still on his face, yet, the blank expression was still in his eyes.

"My decision regarding what?"

"The opportunity I'm about to offer you. Thank you, Giuseppe," John said as Brigit's coffee cup was slid before her. Brigit looked down at the beverage and frowned. Noticing her expression, John asked: "Is there a problem?"

"I'm dead, right?"

"That's correct," John answered.

"Then, how can I be able to drink coffee? Aren't I doomed for all eternity to thirst and hunger because of my life?" she questioned. Images of fire and d.a.m.nation arose in her mind as the sweet aroma wafted across her sense of smell and deepened the craving of the brew.

"That's the rumor," John replied. "Let me a.s.sure you, Brigit, that everything you were ever told during your life may or may not be true. One never really knows the truth of it all until they pa.s.s over. Even then, perception remains an influence on the truth that is discovered. However, there is the occasional opportunity to stave off the result of the judgment of our days as mortals. At least, that is, until we decide it's time to walk through that door."

Brigit watched as John lifted his cup and sipped carefully, as if the steaming contents might actually harm him. When he set the cup back to its saucer, Brigit identified it as tea.

"I thought judgment of our lives would be one specific day like some ma.s.sive cult ceremony," Brigit said as she finally reached for the coffee. John sighed and shook his head.

"Again, another rumor," he revealed. "We were being held in judgment from the very first moment we drew breath. Unfortunately, it is taught almost world wide that there will be a specific judgment day and most of those who believe that think that they always have time to balance the books before they die. They are unaware that every second counts and an abrupt about-face at the eleventh hour does little to help the end result."

"And what about those who have tried to be good their whole life yet their choice for love is considered the worst sin of all?" Brigit asked after the sip of coffee she had taken had slid warmly down her throat. She was suddenly aware of how much she had missed her morning coffee.

"Is love a sin?"

"It depends on who you share it with, according to majority's thought," Brigit answered.

"Indeed? Who, may I ask, is harmed by the love shared privately between two people?"

"Only those who aren't involved in that love, I think," Brigit joked. "Or those who might be jealous of it."

"Ah, I see. Well, you know, jealousy is a sin. Love, however, is not," John sighed. He reached for his tea cup again. "Now, to the business we really need to discuss."

"Go ahead," Brigit encouraged. She was finding herself a little more relaxed in John Blackwick's company. He seemed to have answers to her questions. She wondered if he would have a true answer to the biggest question of her new existence.

"I have an opportunity that I hope you will seriously consider," John began. "I have a position within my firm that needs immediate filling. The work load has piled up and without a.s.sistance; I see no end to the work if I continue to do it by myself." John paused and smiled as if he had made a joke only he had caught. "Actually, there will never be an end to the work load, but right now, it's quite a ch.o.r.e."

"Your firm?" Brigit asked as she raised her coffee cup to drink. "What kind of position?"

"I would like to offer you the position of a.s.sistant Reaper a.s.sistant Reaper."

Brigit covered her mouth to keep from spewing her coffee across the counter. Quickly she swallowed and looked at her companion in a mixture of surprised amus.e.m.e.nt and confusion. The business card he had given her had read: Reapers, Inc. She had conjured an idea as she pa.s.sed through the night watching Maggie as to what that t.i.tle might have meant; but now that idea was beginning to take a firm shape.

"Reaper? As in 'the Grim Reaper'?"

"As in," John replied seriously.

"Aren't you missing something?" Brigit asked, trying to keep herself from laughing hysterically at the images running wildly through her head.

"I don't know what you mean," John revealed as he searched her face for the source of her amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You're The Grim Reaper The Grim Reaper?" Brigit pressed. "Where's the black robe and the scythe? And aren't you supposed to be a skeleton or something?" Brigit was laughing by now, bordering hysterically. John watched her for a moment before allowing himself to see the amus.e.m.e.nt of her point. The images she described had belonged to Araxius, his mentor. The scythe was stored securely in the a.r.s.enal room at the office. John knew it would most likely never be used again. When she finally composed herself, she leveled her dark eyes on him and asked: "Why me?"

"Because love," he began, "you're not ready to cross over yet. You've made a commitment that you seem determined to keep. I find that admirable and I believe this offer would provide you the way to honor your promise to Maggie." John spoke quietly, as if what he was saying really did mean something to him. A seriousness filled Brigit's eyes and he knew he had her full attention.

"How do you know about my promise to Maggie?"

John reached inside his suit coat and withdrew the long black book she had seen him reading when she had entered the cafe. In the dim light over their heads, she saw her name embossed in gold across the cover.

"This is your portfolio your file, if you will. Every second of your mortal life is recorded on its pages. Your promise to Maggie, to be there until the last breath, is written here. I know everything about you and I know that you have no intention of leaving her," he replied.

"So how will being a Reaper help me with that promise?"

"The agreement I offer you is this: you'll reap during the day, when Maggie is awake and going on with her life. Then, when night falls, you can go home to her just as you would if you were still alive. Unfortunately, I can only afford to give you a few days of training; but," John reached into his coat again and laid another black book on the counter. It was as thin as the first book he had pulled out, but the shape of it was different. It was more of a square than a rectangle, as if it were meant to be carried in one's hip pocket. Brigit glanced at it briefly before returning her attention to John. "This book will be your guide. Then, you'll receive the weapon of your choice and we can get down to business."

"Wait, why would I need a weapon?" Brigit asked, concerned that her new job would require the need for a weapon.

"Not every soul is innocent; Brigit, and on occasion, they will not go peacefully. So, what do you say? Will you take the position?"

"I need to talk to Maggie," Brigit said automatically.

She caught herself as the words came out. If she were still alive, she would discuss the idea of changing jobs with Maggie to be sure she was making the right decision. Maggie's opinions had never steered her wrong. Now, Brigit suddenly realized, she was alone in this decision. She had to make up her own mind this time.

"What happens if I decline?" Brigit asked.

"Then," John picked up her portfolio as if to add the emphasis to what he was about to say, "You will need to prepare yourself for your judgment. I will have to come for you eventually. Your promise to Maggie will be broken."

"I see," Brigit sighed. Her mind was quickly wrapping itself around the proposition and seeing the sense in taking the job. If she wanted to keep her promise her oath to Maggie, she had no choice really. Maggie was her life, the center of her universe. She would do anything to keep a hold of that. If John Blackwick was truly capable of delivering on his claim that he would send Brigit on to her fate, there was no other option than to agree to his offer. "Okay, I'll do it."

"Fantastic!" John proclaimed as he hurriedly began stuffing her portfolio back inside his suit coat. "Take the field guide and read it tonight. It will go over topics I really won't have time for during your training. Be at the office first thing in the morning and we'll begin your training immediately," he instructed as he slid from his stool and began b.u.t.toning his coat. "I'm so grateful you've made such a positive decision. I simply can't bear the thought of never catching up. I'll see you in the morning."

With that, John the Reaper turned and exited the cafe. Brigit looked at the square black book left on the counter for her. Slowly, she reached over and slid it before her. Suddenly, she had so many more questions about everything. She wondered if the book would answer any of it.

6: The Reaper's Field Guide

Maggie was already asleep when Brigit returned to their apartment. Though it was no longer necessary, Brigit was quiet as she moved through the living room to the bedroom.

Maggie had finally forced herself to return to sleeping there the night of the funeral. She had lain on the sofa for only a few hours before getting up and walking slowly to the bedroom. Brigit had immediately jumped to her feet and followed. As Brigit had thought they might, the memories of their private times together there flooded them as soon as they pa.s.sed through the door. She knew, though, that Maggie had gone there to be enveloped in those memories and to find some comfort in them. Brigit had followed her so that she too could be enveloped in them and hopefully comfort her partner as she cried the final tears over her loss.

As she stood beside their bed, watching Maggie sleep peacefully, Brigit wondered if Maggie might be dreaming of her. The serene look on her face gave no indication one way or the other. Brigit sighed heavily and reached out her hand to caress Maggie's cheek. A slight shiver followed the path of her fingertips on Maggie's face and Brigit frowned. Maggie's warmth under her touch was a reminder that she was no longer warm herself.

She had thought about everything John Blackwick had said during her walk home. She knew he was right. The position he had offered her would provide her the chance to keep her promise to Maggie. She would be able to watch over her during the night, to be by her side until that last breath finally came. The only problem was that Maggie would never know Brigit had kept her promise until that day came and only G.o.d knew when that would happen.

Silently, Brigit turned and left the bedroom. She had homework to get to if she was to start her new job with some sense of preparedness. Maggie had left the lamp next to her reading chair on. Brigit had noted that Maggie had left it burning every night since the accident. She wondered if it was Maggie's subconscious effort to keep a light on for the lover that was never coming home, or if it was a reaction to the fear of being alone in the dark after so many years of having someone by her side.

Brigit set the book John had given her on the small table by the chair and slowly pulled off her coat. The book wasn't very thick. It wouldn't take her long to get through it, she was sure. When she was finally comfortable in Maggie's reading chair, she picked up the book and opened the cover. Energy emanated from the pages within and Brigit closed her eyes. She had never been one to really believe in magic, but she had the instinct that this book despite its purpose was indeed filled with a magic she would never be able to define. Finally, she opened her eyes again and steeled herself against the silliness her imagination was threatening to begin with the thought of magic being real. It was best to get this over with so she could return to Maggie's side. Her eyes skimmed the handwritten t.i.tle: The Rules to Reaping Souls, by: Araxius Herodotus, Reaper The Rules to Reaping Souls, by: Araxius Herodotus, Reaper.

Slowly, Brigit turned to the first page.

Rule #1: The Purpose of a Reaper: The purpose of a Reaper is to collect the souls of the deceased. Such souls are to be escorted to their judgments without delay. We are not the judge, merely the messenger and/or escort. A Reaper is firm and collected and can not be swayed from the a.s.signed task of a.s.sisting the soul to the door to their fate. A soul's fate is determined by the events of their lives from the first moment breath was drawn on the mortal plane. A good life will be rewarded with the appearance of a door to the Reaper's left side. Evil shall be rewarded with the appearance of the door to the right. Only the Reaper a.s.signed to the task can open these doors. In the event that the soul refuses to enter and face their fate, it is the Reaper's duty to complete their journey by any and all necessary means. It is required that all Reapers wish the soul 'eternal peace' before pa.s.sing them through the door.

Brigit read the words carefully, letting them sink in as she turned to the second page.