Graveyard Shift

"Charming and hilarious...Sookie and Betsy
have some competition!"

-
MaryJanice Davidson, New York Times

and USA Today Best-Selling Author

“
Graveyard Shift
is an impressive feat of imagination built on a broad knowledge of world religion. It's also great fun! No small accomplishment.”

-Christine Wicker, best-selling author of

Not in Kansas Anymore: The Curious Tale of

How Magic is Transforming America

"Darkly comic and wildly imaginative. Angela Roquet gives us an afterlife we've never seen before."

-
Kimberly Frost, best-selling author of

The Southern Witch Series

"Graveyard Shift is sacrilicious. Roquet's first book in the Reapers Inc. series will be a huge hit with fans of authors like J.K. Rowling and Neil Gaiman. I look forward to getting my hands on the rest of the series."

-
Lance Carbuncle, author of

Grundish and Askew

“I love sci-fi and fantasy. Horror is also one of my favorite genres. I have had a lifelong love of mythology in all it many varied forms. It is rare to find a book that combines more than two of those with both a joyous wickedness and intelligence. Angela Roquet has managed it beautifully in her novel
Graveyard Shift
. She has artfully woven many different religions and mythologies into a believable afterlife.”

-Darla Cook, literary gur
u

by Angela Roquet

Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc.

Graveyard Shift

Pocket Full of Posies

For the Birds

Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. short stories

Dearly Departed
(In the Anthology: Off the Beaten Path)

Other titles

Crazy Ex-Ghoulfriend

Backwoods Armageddon

LANA HARVEY, REAPERS INC.

BOOK 1

Copyright © 2009 by Angela Roquet

All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Printed in 2009

ePublished August 2012

Dedication

"Whatever we once were, we are no longer a Christian nation – at least, not just. We are also a Jewish nation, a Muslim nation, a Buddhist nation, a Hindu nation, and a nation of nonbelievers."

-President
Barack Obama

Finally, someone for everyone.

This one is for you Mr. President.

Chapter 1

“Suicide is man’s way of telling god,

you can’t fire me, I quit.”

-Bill Maher

No one cared about Lial Gordon, but you might have never guessed if you had seen his funeral. A herd of socialites gathered around his grave. A silk handkerchief dabbed an eye here and there. A eulogy fit for the President was poetically read, and dozens of white roses were tossed with a dramatic and well-practiced sympathy.

Lial smiled and rolled back on his heels
. He looked a little too smug for a dead man, but he was a dead man just the same.

“Pigs!” he snorted
. “I don’t know half of them, but there’s no doubt why they’re here. Everyone wants a piece of my money. Ha! Wait until they find out they’ve wasted a perfectly good Saturday for nothing.”

Lial was in a much better mood than he had been four days ago, when he came home early from his visit to New York
. He was the president of a reputable bank and often took trips to meet his most valuable customers. Unfortunately, he had just lost one of his best. He was looking forward to sulking over one of his wife’s casseroles, but soon discovered he wasn’t the only man enjoying her cooking.

He entered his master bed
room to find his best friend, and vice president of his bank, snoring between his wife’s legs.

Lial didn’t wake them
. He quietly retreated to his library to find solace in a bottle of aged brandy. Then, in a drunken stupor, he gathered the cash from his private safe, all of his wife’s jewelry, and anything else of value he could smuggle out of the house. He loaded it all into the trunk of his Rolls Royce and left.

After an hour’s drive, he pulled off onto a gravel road and followed it back to a lake surrounded by woods
. At one time, the place had been special. He had gone fishing there with his sons when they were younger. Now they only called if they needed money. Lial finished off another bottle of brandy while pitching bundles of crisp hundred dollar bills into the lake.

When he finished disposing of his riches, he got back in his car and drove home
. Morning broke, and the sun glimmered into a rich dawn as he pulled into his driveway and found the traitors kissing goodbye on the front porch. They froze at the sight of him, and before they could compose themselves, Lial floored it.

He plowed the car right through the bay window and into the living room
. The impact threw him into the windshield, where a piece of glass found his throat. He would have choked to death on his own blood, watching his wife and best friend run from the house, screaming like lunatics, if it hadn’t been for the explosion.

That’s how Lial Gordon died, and that’s how he met me
. Lial was pleased with himself. Not only had he taken care of his money and car, but now the house was worthless as well. Not many are as proud as he had been so soon after death.

“Al
right.” Lial smiled and turned to walk away from the crowd of mourners. “Enough of this. I’m ready to burn in Hell.”

The dead are strange
. They always assume they can just walk into their afterlife. I reached for his shoulder and pulled him back.

“Hold still.” If you had my job, you’d be grim too.

I pushed my hand into the pocket of my robe and found my coin
. Rolling it three times, I said the word, and we left the graveyard behind.

There is no tunnel with a light at the end when you die, just a reaper with a coin, like me
. Maybe to a
human
the passage over resembles a tunnel. To me, it’s more like a womb, and we’re being pushed into existence elsewhere. Humans are always in that infant-like state of shock when they see Limbo City.

Lial’s smirking good mood melted as we arrived
. My world is very different from his. But I have to admit, my shock to his world when I got my first coin was just as bad.

The coordinates I had used pushed us out into the middle of the market area, shadowed by the towering arch
itecture of downtown Limbo. Buildings crammed together down Morte Avenue, a collage of metal and stone. The old world charm of cathedrals and temples mixed with New York styled skyscrapers, imitating the human realm. Rusty streaks of light shot out from behind the city, strangling the illusion of a sunset. Limbo has no sun, but the fake light is welcomed by most citizens. Even the dead prefer to see what they’re doing.

I sighed, wishing I had picked a different location
. The market was an unthinkable place to be on a Sunday. Crowds of souls picked through an assortment of goods shipped in from the afterlives. The innocent items like phoenix feathers and vases autographed by Greek gods were arranged out in the open, but if you looked close enough, you could find someone selling vials of holy water or hellfire under the table. Both substances required a license to carry in Limbo City, but most vendors didn’t care, if you paid the right price.

Crones hobbled by, gaudy amulets swinging from their necks as they waved their salt-crusted fingers to lure cu
stomers closer. A patron bumped a table of herbs, and a horde of pixies scurried to gather them before they hit the ground. A trio of saints lectured outside a white tent, stressing the importance of keeping faith in the afterlife to a crowd of fresh souls.

The harbor would be busy too
. It’s always busy on the weekends. That’s when the Sea of Eternity is the calmest. It used to be only Sundays, but less than a century ago, during the Colorado Labor Wars, two souls who had died in the Ludlow Massacre ended up working in the Three Fates Factory. They convinced the employees to go on strike until they were given Saturdays off as well.

The strike hadn’t lasted long
. The factory is responsible for pulling souls out of the sea and reinstalling them into the human realm. After a few days, the Sea of Eternity had swelled up around Limbo City and threatened to swallow it. The Fates quickly agreed to give Saturdays off, and the factory began running again.

The Sea of Eternity used to be a river, but that all changed when humans began dabbling in science
. More atheists and agnostics die every day. It’s their souls that fill the sea, making my job even grimmer. It used to be easy getting a lot of souls to their afterlives. It used to take minutes, but minutes stretched into hours, and soon I fear it will become days. I don’t get paid enough to waste that kind of time. Like I said, you’d be grim too.

Taking Lial by the shoulder, I directed him through the crowd and down the main dock to my ship
. He was my last soul for the day and I was ready to set sail. I had twelve souls to take to Heaven, eight to Nirvana, and four to Summerland. Not too bad for a Sunday. Unlike the Three Fates employees, reapers don’t get weekends off. But if we save enough coin, we can buy ourselves a vacation.

“What are you doing, Lana?
” Josie, my sailing partner, stood on the deck of my ship with her arms folded. Tuffs of black hair framed her oval face. The haircut was almost too short to be considered feminine, but she pulled it off with her delicate chin and ample pout. The fierce sweep of lashes around her eyes didn’t hurt either.

She tapped her toe on the deck of my- well,
our
ship. We had gone in and traded our two smaller boats for something a little nicer and a little faster. A demon sold it to us, claiming Grace O’Malley had given it to him in exchange for some deed involving the possession of a queen. How fitting that two lady reapers should purchase it. It had been a little too expensive for me to buy on my own. Besides, it was nice to have some company other than a herd of disoriented souls.

“Sorry, I know I’m late
. We stayed for the funeral.”

I hated being le
ctured. Josie was a better reaper than me, and I didn’t have a problem with that. What I did have a problem with, was her rubbing it in my face.

“No, what are you doing bringing that soul on our boat
? I saw his file. He’s a suicide and a non-believer. Where do you think we’re taking him?” She tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.

“By all rights, yes, he belongs in the sea
. His soul is not nearly dark enough for Hell to pay us anything worth our time.”

“But?” she snapped
.

We hadn’t been working on the same boat for very long, but her criticism was getting old
. She always had to do everything by the book, like something bad might happen if she bent the rules. I didn’t bend them all the time, and I never outright broke them.... much.

“I like Lial here, and I have a coin I’ve been saving for a rainy day
. Nirvana should take it. He’s had a difficult life, and I think he deserves a little enjoyment before being sucked up by the Fates and spit back into that pitiful reality again.” I yanked back the hood of my robe so she could get the full effect of the face I made at her as I pushed Lial on deck.

“Nirvana
? You mean that Asian religion was right?” Lial’s fear mutated into curiosity.

“They’re all right
. We just sort you humans by how well you measure up to your individual beliefs.” You can’t imagine how many times I’ve had this conversation.

“Then why are you taking me to Ni
rvana? Not that I mind,” he quickly added.

“Because I think you deserve a vacation, and Ni
rvana’s laws are easier to get around than Heaven’s.” I patted his arm and opened the door to the sailor’s quarters.

My first
twenty-three souls chattered among twenty new faces, Josie’s catch. My stomach knotted. She had twenty-four souls on her docket that morning, same as me, all preordered by their afterlives. This meant four were in the hold. We never put souls in the hold unless we’re taking them to Hell. Most Hell-bounds try to escape. Can you blame them?

I scowled, wishing I had reviewed Josie’s list as well as she had reviewed mine
. I hated making deliveries to Hell. Lucifer never gave me any trouble, but he had been on vacation lately. Gate duty had been turned over to Maalik, one of the Islamic angels.

Maalik had originally been appointed to watch over the Islamic hell, Jahannam, but with Eternity’s growing d
emands, the rulers of Jahannam and Hell decided to adjoin their territories and utilize a single gateway.

Maalik made me nervous
. He was too flirty and too pretty to be guarding the gates of Hell. I didn’t trust him, and I didn’t like that he was racking up so much coin with his ambitious work ethic. If he showed up in Limbo, I planned on hightailing it to Summerland until he left. I needed a vacation anyway.

Lial looked around the room
. He was my most enjoyable catch of the day. I didn’t regret staying for his funeral. Josie would get over it.

“I’ll come find you when we get to Nirvana,” I said
. “Meanwhile, talk to James over there. He’s a Buddhist. He can fill you in on how to get through the gates.”

“Hey, uh, thanks,” Lial whispered
. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I appreciate it.”

“Sure.
” I laughed. Granting little favors almost made my job worth it. I closed the door behind me and found Josie waiting.

“Do you even know how many rules you’re breaking doing this?” she gru
mbled.

I folded my arms
. “It’s not a big deal. Like the Fates will even miss him.”

“You’re jeopardizing both of our jobs, not to mention gambling with a ship that I paid for
, too.”

“Lighten up
. I’m going to change before we take off. Where’s Gabriel? Didn’t he need a ride?” I wanted to change the subject before she listed off every rule I had broken since we started working together.

“He’s late, as usual
. Cocky jerk thinks the world revolves around him. He’s probably still at Purgatory Lounge.”

“I thought he quit drinking
. He better sober up before we get to Heaven, or you know we’ll get blamed for it.”

“I know.
” Josie frowned. “You’re redirecting souls without authorization, and now we’re transporting a drunk of an archangel to make coin on the side. We might as well be demons.”