Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross (3 page)

Rachel was on her knees, clutching the black
briefcase against her breast and sobbing over the crumpled form
that Brigit refused to acknowledge as her own body. Bobby was
pacing back and forth barking orders into his cell phone. Scott had
joined the scene as well, trying to pull Rachel away from the body.
John, the man in the black suit, was standing in the foreground of
it all, his hands helplessly shoved into his trouser pockets. His
ice blue gaze was focused on Brigit as she waited for a taxi to
stop.

When the taxis rushed by her, Brigit looked
at her watch again. It was still twelve past seven. If she ran, she
wouldn’t be
that
late. Glancing at John again, she noticed
him reaching into the waist pocket of his coat.

“I’ll be at the café on Bleecker Street if
you decide to talk,” she heard him say gently as the ambulance came
to a screeching halt beside her. Brigit jumped out of the way and
took off running north. Maggie was going to be beyond angry.

She ran until her legs began to feel as
though they would cramp. As her feet pounded against the sidewalk,
Brigit was sure that the thundering of her heartbeat in her ears
was the reason she couldn’t hear the sound of her boots hitting the
cement.

A light was burning in the front window of
the apartment. Brigit paused long enough to determine that Maggie
was still home and most likely pissed off to no end. Quickly,
Brigit rushed up the stoop and through the opened door, taking the
stairs two at a time to the second floor. She skidded to a stop in
front of their door and began to pat herself for her keys. A
desperate fear began to rise up in her as she realized they weren’t
in her pockets. They were in the briefcase. Rachel had the
briefcase. Brigit cursed loudly and kicked the door.

“Mags, honey, let me in. I know I’m late,”
Brigit pleaded as she pressed her forehead against the door. “I’ve
lost my keys. Please, Mags….”

Her hand fell to the door knob and, on a
whim, she turned it. Slowly, the door opened. Hesitant, Brigit
stepped in and scanned the room. It was empty. The lamp next to
Maggie’s reading chair by the bay window had been left on. A note
lay on top of the book Maggie had been reading the weekend
before.

“
Bree,

We’ve gone to the shelter. Come as soon as
you can. Yes, you are in trouble.

Maggie”

Brigit sighed heavily and looked around
again. The clock on the wall read eight-thirty. She was an hour
late. Even if she left now, she would get to the shelter just as
the festivities would be wrapping up. By then, the adult celebrants
of the neighborhood would fill the streets in costumes more
imaginative and risqué than children should see. That was life in
the city, though.

Slowly, Brigit sank into Maggie’s reading
chair. She had to think of a good explanation. Maggie would expect
the truth, but, would she believe it? Brigit’s gaze fell on to the
picture frame resting against the small lamp on the table.

It was an old picture, taken during the first
year they were together. It was a day at the beach, their smiles
revealing their happiness at finding each other and being together.
They had met by chance, having mutual friends of friends. Their
connection had been immediate, their chemistry enigmatic and their
passion all-consuming. Brigit smiled at that last thought. The fire
between them had barely died down during the last ten years. They
had never spent a night apart. They had never slept in separate
beds. It was only during the day, when they were fulfilling their
required hours at work that they were ever not in the same room.
Maggie was her one and only and Brigit couldn’t imagine ever being
without her.

Her life prior to the moment of meeting
Maggie Devon had been such a patchwork of scenes. Her earliest
memories of her childhood were fragments overshadowed by dramatic
moments involving her mother and the various men that had been
brought into Brigit’s life. Brigit couldn’t remember her father. He
had left the scene long before his only daughter could form any
kind of attachment to him aside from bearing his last name. She had
once rescued a shredded image of him from the trash can after her
mother had gone through one of her ‘purifying’ episodes. Carefully,
Brigit had pieced the photograph together as best she could with
glue and paper; but it was never right. The image remained broken
and, eventually, Brigit lost it after leaving her broken childhood
behind. Her life had been like that picture, pieced together as
best she could until the moment she had met Maggie. After that,
Brigit had found herself suddenly whole and the past was nothing
more than a hazy memory hidden in the furthest shadows of her
mind.

Her gaze focused on Maggie’s face in the
photo. Her sandy brown hair had been cropped short that fall – a
mistake Maggie admitted to when the first cold day set in and she
found herself purchasing a knit cap to keep her head warm. Maggie
let it grow out again, revealing a head of natural curls that
Brigit loved to bury her face in as they were falling asleep at
night. A light shined in Maggie’s dark brown eyes as they looked
into the camera. That light was always present, even when she was
mad. That light was part of what made Brigit feel complete.

Brigit looked at her watch again. It still
read twelve past seven and she realized it was broken. She frowned
and shook her head in sadness. It had run perfectly for ten years.
It had been a gift from Maggie after discovering that Brigit lacked
the ability to be on time for anything. It was a basic watch on a
basic black leather band, but Brigit loved it. It was from Maggie.
It meant something.

A knock on the door brought Brigit from her
thoughts. She stood to go answer it but stopped short when she saw
the deadbolt. It was turned. The door was locked tight and she knew
she had not touched it when she closed the door. The knock came
again. She held her breath as she slowly crept to the door and
peered through the peep hole. Two uniformed policemen stood on the
other side.

“She must be out,” Brigit heard one of them
say as she pulled away from the door.

“Should we wait?”

“Nah, we’ll come back,” the first officer
decided out loud with a sigh. “I hate these calls. They’re so
depressing.”

Brigit went back to Maggie’s chair and sat
down. Maggie would be home soon and everything would be fine. None
of this was really happening. It couldn’t be and Maggie would
reassure her of that as soon as she came home.

She sighed heavily and crossed her legs. From
Maggie’s chair, she could see the street below. She’d be able to
see Maggie coming home. Her gaze slowly rested on the picture
again. Her mind had stopped racing, but it was still grinding over
the events of the evening.

It was a bad dream. That man – John Blackwick
– he had to be wrong. She was alive. She was fine, no matter what
she had seen after getting to her feet in the alleyway. He had
called her by her full name. How did he know her? Brigit knew
Maggie would help her make sense of it. If only she would hurry up
and come home…

Brigit bit her lip to quell the emotions that
were beginning to rise from the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t be
dead. She had picked herself up from the pavement. She had seen
John standing against the wall, heard his voice telling her what
happened. She had seen the crumpled body wearing her coat. She had
seen the pool of blood growing over the cement. Yet, she had picked
herself up and ran full tilt form the alley up 8th Avenue to their
apartment on 68th Street. While it was a distance she had traveled
by foot before, it was not one she had ever traveled in less than
two hours.

As if to reassure herself, she looked at her
palms. They were smooth and pink. Her mind began to revolt again as
she peered at them in disbelief. She had felt the glass cutting
into them when she had caught herself on the cement. Yet, there
were no cuts, no blood – there was nothing…

She couldn’t be dead. She had a promise to
keep – a promise she had made to Maggie.

They had stood on the beach where they had
first met, on the one year anniversary of their meeting. It was the
first of November and a crisp breeze had blown off the ocean all
day, but they had ignored it. They were bundled in their favorite
sweaters and their enigmatic love for one another. As the light of
the day faded, the stars became crystal clear against the sky that
was the deepest shade of blue. The small fire Brigit had built
burned steadily and a bottle of wine sat opened on the blanket
where they had spent the afternoon watching the horizon slowly,
ever so slowly, give birth to the full moon. As they stood at the
water’s edge watching the moon reach it’s zenith, Brigit had held
Maggie’s hand and gazed deep into her eyes and promised a long life
together until the last breath.

Brigit had been so sure that she would be the
last one to go, that she would outlast Maggie by at least a day.
She had never imagined that she would ever leave Maggie alone. She
had made the promise that she never would and now, she had broken
it.

Maggie forced a smile as she handed another
miniature goblin a handful of candy. Mama Dee was declaring how
scary the pint sized ghost behind the goblin seemed as tiny hands
peeked out from under the flora-print sheet the child’s mother had
decided to use as a last minute costume. Despite the cheerfulness
of the crowd, Maggie couldn’t help but think that the nagging
feeling at the back of her mind would only go away at the sight of
Brigit striding through the crowd. The world could completely
dissolve and everything would still be fine in Maggie’s mind so
long as Brigit was beside her.

Mama Dee turned to face her companion.
Despite the smile on the young woman’s face, Mama Dee could see the
worry deep behind her dark eyes. Like Maggie, she too had a nagging
feeling that would only go away at the sight of Brigit coming
toward them. It was a feeling Mama Dee had come to know too well in
her sixty plus years of walking the earth. She prayed tonight was
just a false feeling brought on by the holiday that so often played
on her superstitions and senses…

“She still ain’t called?”

“No,” Maggie sighed. “I’ve called her cell
phone three times. The voice mail keeps picking up. Something is
wrong.”

“Maybe she laid her phone down somewhere. You
know how she misplaces things sometimes,” Mama Dee suggested,
remembering how she had spent an hour helping the girls look for
Brigit’s keys just yesterday morning.

“I know,” Maggie said as she passed another
handful of candy to twin princesses. “She’d misplace her head if it
wasn’t attached to her body. Most days, I have to give her a pat
down list before she leaves for work,” Maggie said as a little boy
without a costume came to stand in front of her.

“I know, I’ve heard you,” Mama Dee laughed as
her eyes fell on the little boy. “Sweetheart, what are you supposed
to be?” she asked the child.

“I’m a little boy,” the child replied. Mama
Dee and Maggie exchanged glances. It wasn’t a little boy standing
before them, but rather, a little girl in boy’s clothes. Mama Dee
gave the child a handful of candy.

“They’re getting started earlier and earlier
these days,” Maggie muttered under her breath. Mama Dee shook her
head and sighed in amusement.

“Maybe you should go on home and wait for
her,” Mama Dee suggested. “We’re about done here anyway.”

“Are you sure, Mama?”

“Yeah, go on home, honey. Just give me a call
when she gets in so I don’t spend the evening worrying too,” Mama
Dee replied with a wave of her plump hand.

“I will,” Maggie replied as she turned and
snatched up her purse and sweater.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder at Mama Dee
as she exited the shelter. The small black woman had fully returned
her attention to the line of children parading before her, their
pillow cases held wide open to receive their treats. For a moment,
Maggie found herself smiling. Mama Dee loved children, but the
little old woman had never been able to have any of her own.
Instead, she doted on those who needed some love the most. Everyone
in the neighborhood knew Mama Dee. Everyone could always feel the
love.

During the walk home, Maggie called Brigit’s
cell phone three more times. Each time, she only heard Brigit’s
voicemail message…
Hi, this is Brigit, sorry I missed your
call
… Each time, Maggie would disconnect the call before she
heard Brigit’s instruction to leave a message. It wasn’t like
Brigit to not contact her. Even if she had misplaced her cell
phone, Maggie knew Brigit would have found a way to call and
explain the situation.

Yet, no call was coming.

As Maggie climbed the stairs to their
apartment, a sinking sensation was forming in the pit of her
stomach. Something was definitely wrong. Everything was too quiet
in the building and her intuition told her it had nothing to do
with the holiday.

Glancing over her shoulder as she put her key
in the lock, Maggie had the feeling something dark was moving in
the air behind her. Quickly, she turned the key and stepped inside
the apartment. With her back against the door, she let go her
breath and tried to shake the feeling she had just experienced in
the hall. The eeriness refused to go away, though. It was as though
the darkness was had come to lurk just outside the door.

“Brigit, are you home?” Maggie called out,
not moving from her spot at the door. When silence answered her,
the sandy haired woman allowed her brown eyes to scan the room. Her
gaze went quickly to where she had left the note for her partner.
It had not been touched. “Brigit?” she called again. Still no sound
could be heard.

Slowly, Maggie eased off the door and walked
to her favorite reading chair. Every nerve was on edge and her
hands were beginning to shake as she dug her cell phone out from
the pocket of the sweater that had done little to block the chills
now running rampant over her skin. Glancing over her shoulder as
she waited for Mama Dee to answer her call, Maggie glanced at the
windows to see if one had been left open. They hadn’t. All three
were closed, yet, the chill in the room was growing by the
second.