“Nope. I think I got everything off my chest this morning.” I smirked.
I thought Death would walk out in disgust, but instead his eyes lit in challenge.
“Well, I’m available by phone if you need to keep me abreast of any situations.”
“I’ll be fine. I have a lot of support.”
“Good. Well, I hope your travels go okay if you decide to nip out.”
Spence snorted and coffee came out of his nose. “You do realise you’re both making complete tits out of yourselves, don’t you? Get a room already.”
Spence held his hands up in surrender as we both glared at him. Then Death walked out.
“Been a long time since I’ve seen that,” Spence sighed.
“You still going on about my boobs?”
“Nah, I’m talking about Death being interested in a lady.”
“Death is just helping me settle into my role as Queen, that’s all.”
“Mya, I’m a spirit, but I’m still a man. I can see the longing on his face when he looks at you. Now whether that’s because he thinks you’re a fit wench like I do, or whether it’s reminded him of the human side he doesn’t recall, I dunno. But I’m not wrong. He has feelings for ya, and that will throw him for a loop, cos Death don’t let his feelings in. If he does, it could overwhelm him. Can you imagine if Death started being affected by what he saw day in, day out?”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “I never thought of that. To let in a side that cares too much, could cause Death to…”
“Collapse like a pack of cards, once a busty wench comes serving the rum?” Spence offered.
“I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t like me then,” I mumbled to myself, noticing that my own stomach sank with the thought.
Oh dear. It seemed if Death came a knocking, I wouldn’t want to run. But I’d have to.
Suck. My. Life.
Death
I needed to spend a day soul collecting and reminding myself of who I was. Opening the window, I threw the sweater, shirt, and chinos out, then put my leathers and cloak back on. I was Death. I did not think of Mya’s perfect bosom, or how I’d like to sink into her depths. I mean, I hadn’t done that since I’d become Death, and yet, I just knew, that I had done it before in my pre-Death life and knew inside how to do it again.
It was a good job I was my own boss, left largely to my own devices. If I had problems I had to consult with God and Satan and no one wanted to be the meat in that sandwich.
Nope, I’d focus on work and leave Mya and my thoughts of her back in the house.
“Why have you thrown your clothes out of the window?”
Damn it. I’d left my door ajar and Mya now stood in the doorway.
“They’re not me. Don’t represent me.”
I expected her to protest, but she didn’t.
“Yeah, maybe I was wrong. You’re Death, the dark collector of souls. I was being a real idiot there wasn’t I? Trying to dress you like a real man. I’ll deal with them. See if I can get the twins to accept a return.”
“You do that.”
“Or I’ll see if they fit Stan junior.”
“You met Stan junior?” Why did my chest tense up at the mention of his name? Could it be because he was one of the younger men of Gnarly Fell?
“No, I met Stan senior, but he said he and his son could come help me fix some things at the house. So, if the clothes fit him, he can have them. Anyway, I must dash. I’ve a lot to do today: cleaning, shopping, seeing if I can get souls to move on.”
“Do you want me to sit in with you some more?” I asked her, feeling bad about leaving her to it.
“No. It’s fine. I have the computer, and Spence has been around a long time. I can always consult him. I don’t need you, so go do your thing.”
She walked away from my room and I heard her footsteps on the stairs.
I don’t need you.
I took a deep breath and pulled up my hood. Grabbing my scythe from the door, I got ready to do what I did best.
Destroy people’s lives.
It was good that Mya didn’t need me. Death should be a loner, unloved. Someone who took lives did not deserve happiness. Even if it was already forecast in The Book of the Dead.
Everyone blamed me.
It was a heavy toll on my soul.
Yes, I took other people’s.
But deep down inside.
Somewhere.
I still had my own.
And Mya was making me remember that.
The further I stayed away from her, the better.
Some people saw me and that was the case today. It was like those who saw ghosts. Some were more tuned in to the frequency than others.
I visited the old people’s home where the residents were sat in chairs with the television on. Two members of care staff sat among them, one right next to the man whose soul I’d come to collect.
He saw me and his yellowed eyes widened. He turned to the staff member at his side and tapped her arm. “D- do you see anything there, dear? A man dressed in black?”
“No, Walter. It’s not like you to be seeing things. Do you have a headache?”
But Walter wasn’t listening. Walter was staring at me.
“Do you know who I am, Walter, and why I’ve come for you?”
“Death.” He said. “So, it’s my time?”
The carer stared at him. “Walter, lovey, are you okay?”
“Any last confessions?” I asked him.
“If I tell you my sins now, will it help me?”
“I’m Death. I’m not here to bargain with you, I’m here to collect your soul. So, I’ll ask you once more. Any last confessions?”
“Oooh what sins are you wanting to tell me, Walter? Hey, Harriet, Walter here’s acting a bit strange. Talking about seeing a man in black and death. I’m wondering if the doctors changed his meds and didn’t tell us again?”
Another older woman pointed to where I was, “Cm fu hm,” she mumbled, but with the drool running from her mouth, Harriet couldn’t hear what she was being told.
Walter closed his eyes. “My old boss. Mr Lewthwaite. I killed him. Hit him over the head with a concrete block. Shoved him in the footings of the garage he had me building him. Told his wife he’d said he was going to the shops. No CCTV in those days.”
His carer moved a little further away from him. Looked to Harriet, looked back again.
“What are you talking about, Walter?”
“I did it. I killed him. I kept the secret all my life.”
“Why would you kill someone, you daft thing? All your family say you’re the sweetest person and that’s all we’ve seen.”
“I wanted his wife. He stole her from me at school. I wanted her back. Tell Kathleen when she visits. Tell her I killed him.”
I beckoned him with my finger, my body going black and wispy, “I want your soul, Walter. It has a date with the demons.”
“Nooooooooo,” he screamed, his face a perfect picture of torment as the demon appeared at my side and I took Walter’s soul and passed it on.
The old people’s home was left in a state of panic while Walter’s carer, Ellen, dealt with him and Harriet tried to console the hysterical woman who’d seen me.