Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross (6 page)

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
. He
had instructed her to meet him at the Bleecker Street Café
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 ½ 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 assignment in
regard to her. Brigit began to wonder what exactly that meant.
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.

It was a macabre feeling standing outside the
café. 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 café 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 glass 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 unbuttoned her coat and slid onto the stool beside him.

“You have a certain energy, Brigit. You also
smell faintly of
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 damnation 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
assure 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 pass 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 massive 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 assistance; 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 chore.”

“
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
Assistant 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 amusement and confusion.
The business card he had given her had read: Reapers, Inc. She had
conjured an idea as she passed through the night watching Maggie as
to what that title 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 amusement.

“You’re
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 amusement of her point. The images she
described had belonged to Araxius, his mentor. The scythe was
stored securely in the arsenal 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 café. 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 buttoning 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.”