Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross (8 page)

“Oh, god damn!” she gasped as she covered her
eyes with her hands, as if the intensity might actually melt her
eyeballs directly out of the sockets.

When the light stopped pulsating, she slowly
lowered her hands and looked around her. They were standing in the
empty hall of a hospital. Brigit knew it was a hospital simply by
the smell and the eeriness that she had associated with such a
building since her grandfather’s passing when she was a little
girl.

“Where are we?” Brigit whispered.

“We’re at St. Clare’s Hospital in Oklahoma
City. We have three assignments to complete here and then we’ll be
on our way back to the office. Here,” he withdrew a portfolio from
his coat pocket and passed it to her. Slowly, Brigit opened the
folder and began to read.

“Sarah McDowell, April 3rd, 1982,” she read
out loud. “What’s the date?”

“Her passing date,” he replied.

“You’ve kept her waiting sixteen years?”

John shrugged somewhat apologetically.

“The Reaper assigned to her was somewhat of a
lazy bum. He liked to take his time in getting to his assignments.
Sadly, I’ve been a somewhat backlogged these last six months, I’m
sure you can understand…”

“Let’s hope Sarah McDowell will understand,”
Brigit retorted. John shrugged sheepishly again and began walking
slowly down the hall. Brigit knew she had no choice but to follow
him.

She was waiting for them by the window,
staring out across the city skyline bathed in the bright sunlight.
There was a peaceful look on her face as she watched the horizon.
Brigit noted that the expression did not alter as Sarah McDowell
turned to face her visitors. She studied them both, dressed head to
toe in black. Sarah McDowell recognized them for who they were and
why they were finally there.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said
sweetly. Brigit guessed the woman to have been in her mid-fifties.
Her children were finally grown, her husband almost ready to
retire. Sarah McDowell seemed not to be bothered by the loss of her
golden years. Instead, a sense of patience emanated from her – even
after all this time of waiting.

“I apologize for the delay, Sarah. Are you
ready to go?” John asked. A pleasant smile came to the waiting
woman’s face.

“Yes, it’s time,” she said.

Brigit studied the other woman’s smile as she
moved away from the window and approached them. She was unsure
whether the smile was one of relief or one of true happiness that
the wait was over. As they entered the hall together, Sarah looked
up at Brigit. There was an inquisitive expression in her green
eyes.

“Will you be crossing as well, dear?” she
asked.

“No ma’am,” Brigit replied. “It’s my first
day on the job.”

“Oh, I see. You’ll do fine, I’m sure,” Sarah
said kindly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

They turned down a glass corridor that
connected one section of the building to another. Half way down, a
wooden door had been mounted. It was a plain door that refused to
look normal against the glass and the scenery outside. Brigit
wondered why anyone would put such a design error in this type of
building. As her confusion continued to grow, John stopped in front
of the door and turned to face Sarah McDowell.

“Is this the place?” Sarah asked, stopping as
well before the door.

“It is. Sarah McDowell,” John’s voice took on
a solemn, almost priestly, tone. “May you find eternal peace,” he
wished her. Slowly, he extended his left hand and opened the door
for her. Sarah nodded and winked at Brigit.

“Better late than never,” she sighed.

As Sarah stepped through the opened door,
Brigit detected the scent of flowers wafting from the other side.
They accosted her senses so quickly that she was unable to discern
each individual fragrance. It was sweet and warm – like rich honey.
Brigit closed her eyes momentarily to savor the smell and its
affect on her mind. There was a peace felt within the affect unlike
any she had ever known with the exception of being in Maggie’s
arms. When she opened her eyes again, the door was gone and John
was staring at her with a slight look of amused patience.

“Where did the door go?” Brigit asked.

“Sarah has passed through. There’s no further
need for it.”

“Where did it lead to? How did you know to
bring her here to the hall?”

“The hall seemed more picturesque, don’t you
think? As for where it lead, it was to my left; so, it lead to
Heaven, the Summer Land, eternal peace – whatever you want to call
it.” John explained as they began walking along the corridor
again.

“Was that your decision?” Brigit asked as she
opened the little black folder to see if a judgment had been
previously issued and recorded there. Her brows knitted together
upon the sight of a blank page where Sarah McDowell’s life had been
just minutes before. All that remained were the woman’s name and
her passing date.

“We are not judges, Brigit, merely the
deliverers of a soul to their fate. Come, we have more work here to
be done,” John said without looking at her. Brigit lengthened her
stride to keep up with him while her mind continued to race with
questions.

“How do I know where they go? Do they always
have a door to go through?”

“They do.”

“How do I know which one to send them
through?”

“Did you really read the guide, darling, or
just skim it as if preparing for an early morning quiz?” John asked
patiently. He didn’t wait for an answer. “You will have one of two
options when dealing with a Reapee. A door will always appear
either to your right or your left. Do you believe in Heaven?”

“I don’t know,” Brigit replied honestly. She
had never subscribed to any particular faith’s belief in the after
life and as a consequence, had never given the after life much real
thought.

“Heaven will be the door to your left. Hell
is the door to your right. Only one door will appear for each
soul.”

“What if both doors appear?” Brigit asked as
they turned the corner. In the distance, she could hear the cries
of a baby. It sounded agitated.

“They won’t,” John replied.

“Are you sure?”

“In the time that I have been a Reaper, I
have never witnessed both doors appearing. Our predecessors never
mentioned any such incident occurring. I will venture on to say
that if it’s not mentioned in your field guide, it won’t happen,”
John surmised.

Brigit frowned as they approached a room
sealed off again by a wall of glass. Behind the glass, Brigit saw
the rows of baby basinets. Most of them were occupied with little
bodies covered in the obligatory pink or blue blankets.

Except for one…

Brigit’s gaze fell on the uncovered baby. Its
tiny arms were flailing over its tiny head trying to communicate
its irritation. This was the baby she had heard as they were
walking down the hall. She wondered why this baby wouldn’t receive
the same attention the other babies were getting. She wondered why
it had been left uncovered and unidentified by pink or blue.

“Baby Girl Riley,” John said quietly. “Hold
this please,” he requested, passing the long black walking stick to
Brigit. She took it in silence and held it gently by her side.

Together, they approached the wailing child
and stood over her. Her bright blue eyes glistened with the tears
that she had been summoning to no avail. John gently lifted the
baby from its crib and held her close to his chest as he cooed
soothing words to her. Brigit watched in silence. His expression
had changed. It had a softer look, one of a sad joy as he held the
baby girl in his arms.

She watched as John carried the child to a
door and waited for him to open it; but his reach never extended
toward the handle. Instead, it opened from the inside and Brigit
saw a small woman in a white robe emerge. There was a gentle smile
on her face as she gazed at the whimpering child cradled in the
Grim Reaper’s arms.

Carefully, John kissed the baby on the
forehead and passed her to the small woman. Brigit remained silent
as she watched the other woman receive the infant and began to sing
softly to her. It was a soothing sound and Brigit couldn’t help but
to let her gaze stay on the other woman. She noted the woman’s lips
never moved and that the words were in a language she had never
heard. The woman and the child passed back through the door and it
was gone again. John remained where he stood for a few seconds, as
if trying to regain his composure.

“Who was that?” Brigit asked when he turned
to face her again.

“Her name is Mary. She receives the children
on the other side.”

“That song she was singing? What was it?”
Brigit asked as he reached inside his coat and withdrew the third
black portfolio.

“It’s a lullaby. Don’t ask me what language
it is in, though. It’s a tongue that hasn’t been spoken since God
was a child,” he sighed as he read the contents of the file in his
hand. Brigit felt herself smiling at the slight joke. “Well, one
more for this morning and we’re done here. My stick please?”

Together, they left the nursery. After a long
silent walk, they found themselves in the basement. Brigit shivered
from the sinister eeriness of the room. Something was not right
here. Ever hair of her body told her as much. Instinctively, she
slowed her breathing and tensed her muscles in preparation for an
attack.

“Demetrius Rudikov, show yourself,” John
commanded. She looked at him, surprised by the sudden forcefulness
in his voice. He was gripping his walking stick like a club, as if
he too were ready for a fight. “Demetrius Rudikov,”

“GO AWAY!”

Brigit stepped back just as a force of wind
flew past her and hit the supply shelf next to her. Boxes of
bandages toppled from the shelf where they had been sitting to the
floor at her feet. She looked to John and was alarmed to find him
in the death hold of the monster he had called out. By the stench
that filled her nostrils as they wrestled, she easily guessed which
door this one would be going through once they had him under
control.

Quickly, Brigit sprang into action. Her boot
to the monster’s backside caused him to release John and turn on
her. He was snarling, like a rabid animal that had been cornered.
His stench mounted with his fury as he hunkered down to leap on
her. Despite the distraction of his skin peeling from his face,
Brigit never let her attention leave the yellow eyes that were
assessing her.

“John, where’s the door?” she asked as she
took a step back from the approaching monster.

“To your right,” John gasped from where he
had fallen when the monster had released him.

“Open the damn thing already,” Brigit
instructed as the monster launched itself like a missile across the
space between them.

Instinctively, she punched at it, her fist
sinking deep into its face where its nose appeared to be. If it had
been human, she was sure she would have heard the sound of breaking
bones and cartilage. Her adrenaline hit maximum capacity as she
felt its claws sinking deep into her shoulder. She noted briefly
that there was a sensation where Demetrius had a hold of her, but
she knew it wasn’t pain she was feeling. It was something more akin
to sudden nausea – the same feeling she had felt at the scene of
her accident.

Together they fell to the floor. Brigit heard
a sound like a sucker coming off a pane of glass as she yanked her
fist free. She looked up in time to see sharp yellow teeth
glistening beneath the cavity her fist had created in the middle of
the monster’s face. Quickly, she turned her head away and felt the
monster’s weight suddenly lifted from her.

Then she heard a door slam.

Gasping, Brigit lay on the floor for a moment
before turning her head to look at John. Casually, he brushed the
sleeves of his suit coat and smoothed his black hair before
extending a hand out to Brigit.

“I hate when they start a fight,” he remarked
as he helped her to her feet.

Slowly, he turned her and pressed his fingers
against the place where the monster’s claws had marked her. The
punctures had gone just below the skin’s surface, barely touching
the muscles below. Brigit had been saved by the padding of her
coat. John sighed in relief. Everything would be mended by the time
they were through the portal. Only the memory of the attack would
remain.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Brigit assured him.

“Of course it doesn’t. We’d have a problem if
it did,” he retorted.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, love, it would mean that you’re
still alive,” John explained. “We’re done here today. How about a
beverage before we return to the office? We have a few more things
to discuss before you start fulfilling your assignments,” he
suggested. Brigit nodded silently and followed him from the
basement.

The coffee shop patrons had not changed since
the visit the day before. The old man with the sad blue eyes
remained in the booth by the window and the waiter behind the bar
stood ready to serve them beverages as soon as they walked through
the door. As they took their seats at the counter where Giuseppe
had served them in the same smiling silence he had done the day
before, Brigit’s thoughts were beyond the perfectly prepared cup of
coffee sitting on the bar before her.

“You seem pensive,” John commented as he
stirred his tea.

“I suppose I am,” she admitted. “Could
Demetrius Rudikov have killed me?” She heard John sigh gently as he
balanced his teaspoon on the rim of the saucer under the
teacup.

“Darling, you’re already dead,” he reminded.
“No, he could not have killed you. However, had he managed to maul
you any more than he did, you would have been dastardly ill for
quite some time. Unfortunately, it’s not something we can simply
shake off. When a dark spirit manages to do some serious harm, the
effects are more like a poisonous infection. Eventually, it runs
its course and we return to normal with only the memory of the
event. The length of time one is out of commission depends on the
severity of the injury,” John explained as he picked up his tea and
blew gently across the surface. Brigit knew it was out of habit
that he did this. After all, he was just as dead as she was.