Saturday, August 5, 2017

Case 10 - Ep. 1: The Reaper's Regression

Sincerity And Sass by Beki Yopek
Every window of The Reaper’s office was shattered.

I flapped closer to the Motery Center in downtown Fountainia and darted looks at every inch of the urban sprawl. No fleeing demons or fallen angels were flying over the neon signage on the hell side of town. A lone angel pumped her wings and arced toward me from the fancy architecture that made up the heaven side of the city. Chills pricked my skin under the blazer and blouse like mosquito icicles.

Hildariel had let her guard down for one minute and someone had murdered The Reaper.

I alighted on The Reaper’s half-wrecked office balcony and sucked in a lungful of brick dust by accident. Spluttering, I readied the Blood Magic folio and the haloxite lancet pen I carried everywhere I went. No magic of mine could fix the jagged holes in the brick facade or the windows and the office door that had been sliced to pieces. I would definitely end whatever Coalition member had found out we were writing these Case Notes. 

A haloxite crescent whipped through the air inside the decimated office, its sharp glow flashing from golden to red-black and back. “Reap?” I shouted. “Who’s in there?”

Granite-grinding snarls burst amid the crashing of wreckage. “It should be working by now. I have wielded Seversoul for as long as I can remember. Was it the Convictionists? The Coalition? The Graziers before them?”

Relief soaked into all my muscled and I relaxed. The Reaper wasn’t dead. Just pissed off. 

He proceeded to swing his scythe around and around in the tiny office space. A file cabinet tumbled out onto the balcony, shorn in two. No papers fluttered out of it and I thanked the little luck I had that he hadn’t destroyed our ten days’ work in one freak-out. So far.

The angel I’d seen earlier touched down next to me and I jumped a foot in the air. Nia wasn’t in her usual bar tending getup. Her icy-blue blouse was unbuttoned at the top, showing a leather mote necklace with a white mote glowing full-force against her collarbone. Stone dust started to cake onto her blue suit coat and tailored pants, and her halo’s golden glow made it look like dandruff. I doubted her two-inch Aurora heels concealed weapons the way my shoes did, but Nia wasn’t in the business of asskickery.

Holding out a handful of vials to me, she kept her wide eyes on The Reaper. “Is he going to be okay?”

The Reaper practiced his golf swing on a desk chair.

“Dunno,” I replied, cradling my Blood Magic stuff in one wing. “He’s been losing his temper a lot since we started writing.”

An arm and a leg soared past us and plunged thirteen stories to the busy street.

“The Reaper needs a hug,” Nia said.

I snorted. “Go right ahead.”

My best friend shook her head. “I mean, I’d offer to hug him, but--”

A second file cabinet whipped past like a semi truck burning nitrous. 

“--I didn’t plan facial reconstructive surgery today. Did you bring the ingredients?”

I drew out a sealed bag of powdered brimstone and several more containing sulfur and an invisible ingredient, among others.

Nia puffed out a breath. “Thank G-O-double-D.”

A laugh burst from me and I pocketed the bags and vials. “If you weren’t around, Nia, I wouldn’t laugh as much.”

“I’m all kinds of fun. Now, go help him out before he levels the whole thirteenth floor.”

I switched the Blood Magic folio from wing to hand, readied the lancet pen again, and stepped into the space where the door frame used to be. “Hey Reap, it’s me. Could you please chill out? I brought the ingredients we talked about.”

Dust and debris peppered the floor and half the file cabinets were upended against the right wall. He hadn’t slashed out the lights overhead, and I kind of wished he had. It’d feel less like a creepy mausoleum that way. The Reaper panted amid the rubble, his hood half off, hanging from one ebony horn. 

He stepped toward me and Nia, breathing desert wind and gripping his scythe. “We are not finding what we need, Avaline. Sifting through my memories was supposed to make the answers clear.”

I reached into my blazer and produced the bag of powdered brimstone and a vial. “We need to keep you protected. Hildariel’s training will go more smoothly once you’re invisible to all eyes and not just human eyes.”

The Reaper’s breathing slowed and he dropped his scythe. “You and Niariel are the genuine item. Helpful and straightforward.”

“That’s because we give a shit.”

“Give a crap,” Nia corrected from the balcony. 

I threw an over-the-shoulder eyebrow raise at her. “How are you not a fallen angel yet?”

“That’s not a swear word,” she said, her grin oozing with lascivious. 

“Did G-O-double-D confirm that?”

The Reaper cackled and brushed half a desk chair aside with his black bony foot. “I suppose I should be more patient. The memories will come back on their own. We just need to persist.”

“That does seem to be the way it goes. Keep plugging away.”

Nia walked in and waved her wing at The Reaper. “Get in here you old fart.”

Reap tilted his skull as he stepped up to her. “Avaline is fortunate to know you.”

I almost laughed again when Nia hugged him, wings, arms, and all. She was at least a foot shorter than he was. Nia turned around a second later and said, “That’s another story for the bar. Now I can say I glomped The Reaper.”

I’d known for centuries that my best friend could manage a bar in Hell and not fall. That right there was another shining example of why she could be who she was. 

I raised a wing and saluted Nia. “See you at the Lounge sometime.”

“Bring your angel with benefits sometime.” With that, she crossed to the balcony and took off toward the Heaven side of town. 

The Reaper took up his scythe, picked up his hood, and said, “Discussing World War II isn’t working. We must go back a ways.” He looked around at the rubble and added, “And is there anyone on our staff who can fix this?”

I nodded and dug pen and paper from the pile. “Same angel as before. I’ll let her know.”

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