Grim and Bear It
Chapter Six

Rule #57: Reapers may only have authorized essentials in their personal space. -The Reaper Code of Ethics, official handbook.

Poppy

We shuffled the group into the oversized gondola-style boat then pushed off the dock with Anya, who was like my second-ish cousin four times removed, at the helm.

"How are my favorite reapers?" she asked, her dark curls bouncing with her words. She wore her human face but left the rest of her body in skeleton form. Sylvia and I both grumbled a hello. "That good, eh? You can tell me the story later."

I slumped onto the bench in the back of the boat, glad my shift was officially over for another two hours. The River Styx was choppy tonight, which didn't bode well for my seasickness. Again, couldn't have an orgasm, but could get seasick. To make matters worse, I was the only reaper in the history of forever to get seasick and no one had a solution. This was crap.

"Are you okay?" Sylvia whispered.

"We lost a soul," I breathed. "We never lose souls."

She leaned close so no one could overhear. "That demon took that soul long before we got there. It wasn't ripe. There was nothing we could've done to stop him unless we had set up watch for hours."

I yanked my hood off and tugged my hands through my hair. "I know that logically, but it still hurt." I hit my chest once with my fist. "That's the third demon this week."

"I know." She looked out over the water. "Something weird is going on."

"Excuse me?" The young woman asked, turning to face me and Sylvia. "What's going to happen to us?"

"We're going to deliver you to the gates of the afterlife. Once we dock, you'll follow the brick path with the other souls and pass through the iron gate. They'll call you by name from the waiting area and you'll be informed of your options," I explained, my voice tight with nausea already.

"Like heaven?" An older man asked.

"Not sure. We aren't allowed past the gates. We're just the delivery service." I was seriously considering embroidering a DEADEX logo onto my cloak as a joke. I wondered if anyone would notice.

"How do we know this isn't a trick?" a third chimed in.

I took this moment to pull out a barf bag and dry heave. This always did wonders at shutting people up. When I finished, I wiped my hand over my mouth, a superfluous gesture. I couldn't actually throw up. "Because I wouldn't suffer through seasickness several times a day to take ungrateful souls to the afterlife as a joke," I snapped.

Sylvia, despite loving conflict and mayhem, elbowed me. "What she means is you have a choice. You can trust us, reapers who put ourselves on the line to help souls cross over to the afterlife daily, or you can risk facing whatever else is out there. And trust me when I say most of what's out there has a taste for new souls."

The boat went silent, except for my dry heaves. I lay down on the bench and closed my eyes. Sylvia ran her boney fingers through my hair, trying to help me feel better. "Tell me about the wedding."

I must look really sick. She hated weddings. If only seasickness medications worked when one was dead.

I fisted my cloak in my hands. I was still in my human form to not scare the souls anymore, and mostly because I liked it better. "I..." My words bottlenecked, trying to keep from spilling out. As if saying them would breathe my fears to life. How could I tell her?

"What?" she prompted.

I knew one day Jake and Eliza would die. All humans died, even those with supernatural genes. It was just that once my friends died, that was it. I would never, ever, ever see them again. Reapers existed only in an in-between, sandwiched between the human world and the afterlife.

For twelve years, it had been enough to know that they were alive and thriving. I checked the log after every shift, searching for their names. I could only rest once I knew they had survived another day.

My sister leaned closer. "Poppy?"

"I saw Jake."

She jerked her hand back. "What? On accident?"

I shook my head.

She leaned close to me, her voice full of quiet fury. "Are you shi-Poppy, if you got caught, you'd be permanently retired! I could be, too, if they suspected I had a hand in it. Good god, here I thought you never broke the rules and you're breaking one of the most serious ones! Tell me this doesn't get worse. How often-"

"Jake could see me back." My voice was barely above a whisper, but even I could hear the pain laced through it.

"Shit. This actually got worse."

I sucked in a shaky breath. "I can't do it, Sylvia. I can't take his soul."

She laid her head on my shoulder, which made it both better and worse. Better because I loved physical affection and being dead really hindered receiving it. Worse because Sylvia didn't like to touch other people, or other reapers, unless she was about to fight. Her touching me meant things were as bad as I had feared.

"I'll be by your side, okay?" she promised. "Whatever happens. I'll do it when the time comes."

"He was supposed to die when he was 101 with a dozen great-grandchildren and a lifetime of memories."

"I know." She sat up and brushed my hair back out of my face. "You know you can't go see him again, right?"

Her words cut through the fog of motion sickness and sank into my chest. "Yes." The word carried no sound but a lifetime of weight.

If I stuck to the rules and stayed away from Jake until his name came up on my list, and then I delivered him to the afterlife registration portal, then this wouldn't matter. Shouldn't matter. Couldn't matter.

We sat in silence until the boat docked. Sylvia took charge, ushering our lot off and into the registration line. I took a minute to sit on one of the large boulders that lined the shore, staring out over the misty water, trying to recharge and recenter.

My sister nudged me with her toe bone a few minutes later. "You wanna come watch a movie with me tonight? We can pick something you won't hate."

I shook my head. "Maybe tomorrow? I think I just want to read." I needed to lose myself in anything that wasn't reality. I needed a happily-ever-after. "Alright, but if you change your mind..."

I smiled. "Thanks." I followed her back to our lodgings, a long brick building filled with studio apartments. We didn't need to sleep and couldn't eat, but reapers reported a higher quality of un life when they had their own spaces. My dads even had a courtyard.

I was in the center of the building-not smart enough when I was sixteen to ask for something with windows-but that was okay. When I stepped into the small room with my worn recliner, scattered sheet music, and an entire wall of bookcases, the wiring in my shoulders loosened. It was a hodgepodge of things from the human world and magic, like my always-glowing twinkle lights that floated above my head without the need for electricity and a plush black rug that covered most of my floor. Reaching into my pocket, I took out the program from today's wedding and pinned it to my wall. It rested among dozens of wedding programs from events I had snuck off to watch.

I traced the Blackburn House lettering with my finger, the threads of colored paper pulp indicating that it was printed on recycled paper. The house had always been a staple in Jake and my relationship. Could that be all it was? Was my wishing so strong that it somehow defied the odds?

I set my violin on its stand, then hung my robe in a small closet before falling into my recliner. While my family always allowed their skeletons to show when they were home, I still wore my human form. I had died in my pajamas-unicorn leggings and a long pink T-shirt-which I was happy to see was back in style again. This pissed my family off to no end because they had worn black dress clothes. I had defiantly changed out of the outfit my dads had laid out for me, too angry to agree to their plan, the moment they had said goodnight.

Unfortunately, I hadn't remembered to put back on my socks or shoes. At least my fingernails and toenails had been manicured in a soft pink for the vow renewal. One perk about being dead: the nail polish never chipped.

I picked up the book on the side table next to me, running my thumbs over the pages. It was a frequent reread, but I still enjoyed falling into the story. On days like today, when I was shaken to my core, I needed the familiarity, the comfort of knowing exactly what would happen.

I opened the book and leaned back, trying to concentrate on the characters. Desperately ignoring the pulling in my chest that longed to check on Jake one more time. To beg him to stay safe. But if I saw him again, it would destroy me. After rereading the same paragraph four times, I stood and tossed the book down. I needed to scream, cry, throw something across the room-anything for a release. Instead, I grabbed my violin and headed out the door. I needed to go practice somewhere where no one but the lost reapers would hear.