His Soul to Take (3 page)

Robert's smile was infectious. So bright and open. Such expressions never fell on him. Such smiles were reserved for others. A deep ache hit Death. He had a job to do soon. For the first time he was considering what would happen if he didn't. The world certainly couldn't be any worse off if that smile stayed in it a bit longer.

"Are you okay?” Robert asked stopping outside his door. “You have that expression on your face."

"What expression?"

"That quiet, sad expression. You smiled, and then it was gone. I like it when you smile."

"I guess I haven't had much to smile about in a long time."

"I'd like to make you smile more.” Robert laughed suddenly and pushed open the door. “Too corny?"

Death shook his head and stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind them. “No. Sweet."

Robert stopped and turned to face him. “You think?"

He was so close Death could feel the warmth of his body. Intense, bright eyes stared back at him. Before he could think to stop himself, he closed the space between them. His lips brushed against Robert's, soft and gentle, and the bags fell from numb hands. Robert's eager lips opened to him, begging him to taste, and Death pulled him closer, his tongue exploring, devouring. The scent of him. The spicy splash of cologne mingled with a raw manly musk, so enticing. A deep ache of lust grew, spreading, building. Strong hands pulled him closer. He wanted....

Death gasped for breath and pulled away, stepping back from Robert. Clearing his throat, he took another breath to try and ease some of the hunger he hadn't felt in so long. This was too much. He had to think.

"I should go,” Death whispered.

Turning quickly he opened the door and left before he did something he'd regret.

Robert sagged against the wall and let out a heavy sigh.

That was stupid. Stupid-stupid-stupid.

Not that he regretted anything about that kiss.

He touched his lips. Simon had tasted of winter. Like the fresh clean taste of new snow without the chill. He couldn't remember tasting anything quite like it before.

Still stupid. He barely knew the man. Didn't know his full name, his fucking phone number. Geez, he was such an idiot. Hadn't he just been thinking he wanted something more than a quick fuck?

Shaking his head, he picked up the groceries they had dropped by the door and carried them to the kitchen. The silence in his small apartment made Simon's disappearance feel all the heavier. He should have stopped him from going or asked him to stay for lunch.

He shoved the last of the groceries into the fridge and pulled out the newspaper, circling potential jobs in bright red ink. The silence in the apartment reminded him just how empty his place was.

The phone rang and Jerry launched into excited babble over his newest conquest. Some cop who'd been at the fire.

Robert let him rattle on about his new affair, glad not to have a reason to talk. The occasional grunts and other non-committal sounds were enough to let Jerry chatter on for hours. And anything concerning sex had Jerry unstoppable.

Robert flipped through the paper, his eyes drawn to a photo covering most of one page. A lone figure stood off to one side, almost hidden among the rescue workers. Long, dark, trench coat, straight dark hair... Simon? The image was too distant and distorted to tell. He squinted and blinked again, studying the photo in more detail. A seven-car pileup, three dead, six injured. The mangled wreckage bound two cars into one as firefighters worked the Jaws of Life to retrieve a victim.

He shook his head and tossed the paper aside, dismissing the photo.

"Did you go job hunting today?” Jerry finally asked when the tales of his exploits had wound down.

"Huh? What?"

"You said you'd be doing some job hunting today."

Robert turned his attention back to the conversation. “Yeah, I picked up a paper. There's an open call for auditions at one of the theaters tomorrow. They're looking for dancers. Maybe I'll get lucky."

"You need to get lucky.” Jerry snorted. “Your self-imposed celibacy makes
my
balls ache at the very thought."

Robert rolled his eyes. “Is that all you think about? Sex?"

"No, but life is a lot more fun when I do. I'm taking Officer Green—doesn't that just have a delicious ring to it?—out tonight. Wanna come?"

"And be a third wheel? I don't think so."

"Okay, just thought I'd offer.” Jerry said. “Oh, and Maxine's in the hospital. She wants you to pick her up some magazines."

"I didn't realize she was hurt."

"Just a small burn. I think they're releasing her from the hospital tomorrow. Wanted to make sure she was okay after inhaling all that smoke."

"All right. I'll grab a few magazines and head on over there."

The conversation wound down and Robert hung up the phone. The steady tick of the clock over the old TV drifted through the living room. He studied the room and sighed. Worn furniture with one too many stains filled the apartment, a TV so old half the buttons were missing, the mismatched end tables all handed down from Jerry or yard sale finds. The only thing of value was the CD player in the corner, bought to work on his acts for the club. Hell, a robber would peek inside and laugh before leaving. Might even pity him enough to leave the CD player.

He didn't have anything to offer anyone. He didn't have his own house, and now that the club was gone, he was out of work, he spent his time auditioning for dancing gigs, and he didn't even own a car. No wonder he couldn't find someone ready for a serious relationship.

He didn't have a family. Well, none that would claim him. His only friend was self-absorbed, and Robert probably wouldn't hear from him again until his fling with the cop was over. He didn't have anything.

He ran his fingers over his lips again. Except for a kiss with a relative stranger.

He smiled at the memory. That wasn't a bad thing to have.

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Death walked down the street, eager to be away from temptation. The thought of ever being in such a situation had never entered his mind. Living people never saw him. Not the sane sort.

Robert was different. He wasn't mad, just more observant than most. Special.

The weight of something familiar drifted in the wind. A cold chill ran down his spine and the air grew heavy as the presence grew closer. He stopped in front of a small cafe and went inside to wait. No one paid him any attention as he took a seat in the booth at the far end of the cafe.

A few minutes later another stepped into the cafe. Like himself, the man was so average he was never noticed, but Death saw him. Death knew his own.

The Reaper frowned and made his way through the cafe to sit across the booth from him. Hard brown eyes bored into him, and Death struggled to keep from fidgeting. His interference had drawn Reaper to him and his stomach twisted with worry.

"Hmm, it's been awhile since this has happened,” Reaper said.

Death said nothing and stared down at the placemat in front of him. Colorful monsters and kid friendly games splashed the paper with vivid hues.

"Why am I here?” Reaper asked.

Death shook his head and stared down at the placemat. His finger traced the colorful monsters on the paper.

There was a long pause as Reaper stared off thoughtfully into space. “You've interfered and pulled your target from his destiny last night. His pain would have eased the transition."

"It was unintentional."

"That doesn't really matter though, does it?"

"No,” Death said.

"You've been at this for a long time. You know how things work. So why am I here? Fix it or I will."

"What happens if I don't?"

Reaper shot him a dark look. “Don't play games here. This is someone's soul we're talking about. Things live and things die—"

Death took a deep breath. “No, I'm serious. I want to know. What happens if I can't fix things?"

"Can't or won't?” Reaper got to his feet. “Do what's best for him and fix this. I know you've been here a long time, longer than most, but this is a soul we're discussing. A living soul. Do what you have to do."

Reaper moved through the cafe as a busy young waitress scrambled to pull off her apron. The Reaper stroked her arm like a caress and the woman dug through her purse never acknowledging the touch. Keys in hand, she rushed to the door and disappeared outside.

With a flash of white teeth, Reaper followed her out the door like a hungry predator eager for his next meal.

Death got to his feet and left the cafe. He had his own work to do.

As he was drawn to his next assignment, memories bubbled to the surface. Images flashed through his head of times long since gone. Fields of men in armor, palaces and plagues, burning cities and weeping children. Such destruction and grief, little wonder he'd chosen to forget.

The memory of his beginning sent a painful ache through him. Fear and pain had made him desperate. His lover lost, his life's blood slipping away. He'd cursed the gods with such venom... but that had been a long time ago. Those gods were gone, that life more dream than memory.

He found himself in front of a hospital. The white building shone like a beacon, filled with souls crying for release. He stepped inside the long halls, finding his way through doors. The doors unlocked at his touch as he willed them open. He wandered the halls, looking for the souls that called to him. Just two today.

He found his way to the children's ward, where a line of beds filled the small ICU. He turned his attention to a little girl, not more than six, at the far end of the room. Her head bandaged and tubes running out of her tiny body. Her mother sat holding her hand, whispering to her, telling her the day's events. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she spoke.

Death slipped to the little girl's bedside and stroked her cheek, releasing her soul from the motionless body. A tumble of red curls framed her round face. It was hard to see what she looked like beneath the tube that kept her breathing. Her mother didn't look up at him. Her eyes focused on her child and fingers clenched tight to a tiny hand.

He stepped back and waited on the far side of the room. Within minutes machines began to beep and doctors rushed to the child, struggling to keep her alive.

Death smiled as the little girl sat up, her spirit whole and sweet. She smiled back at him and he held out his hand. Grinning, she skipped to his side, bubbly and filled with energy. Red curls bounced around her round face and bright eyes glittered with life. Her hand slipped into his. Her soul tingled against his skin, less substantial than flesh, but more electric.

He started to lead her away but she stopped and turned to look at her mother. Tears poured down the older woman's face as a nurse kept her away from the frantic doctors.

"Momma will be sad if I go,” she said.

He looked down at her, waiting. This was not a decision he could make, even for a soul as young as hers.

"Will momma come too?"

"She'll be along eventually."

"Promise?"

"Everyone has to leave at some point."

"Okay,” she said, and Death led her out the door and down the hall. “Where are we going?"

"On a grand adventure I think,” Death said, leading her through the hospital to another room at the far end of the hall. “Someone else wants to go too. She's a very tired soul."

"Ooh fun,” the little girl said and skipped happily at his side.

Death stopped them in front of a door, and they both walked into a room where an old woman lay sleeping. The little girl watched as he stroked the old woman's cheek and they stepped back to wait.

Several minutes passed and the machines began to beep. Again, doctors rushed in to try and help, but the old woman was already sitting up, ready to be away from her aged and frail body. She smiled at them both, her soul so much younger than the shell that had once housed her.

Death stepped out the door with his two charges. Nurses passed through the spirits as he led woman and child out into the hall.

"Simon?"

Death turned to see Robert in the hall holding a handful of magazines. Machines beeped behind him as the doctors struggled to revive the old woman. “Hello, Robert."

"We keep bumping into each other.” Robert turned to watch as the doctors gave up on reviving the old woman. “Did you know her?"

"No. But I do have work to do.” He hesitated torn between duty and wanting to see Robert again. He glanced at the two impatient spirits waiting for him. “I'll catch up with you later?"

Robert nodded. “Sure."

Death led the old woman and child off into somewhere more private and opened the portal. He watched as they smiled and stepped through the gate. He wondered what was beyond and why he was never allowed to enter. He shook his head, trying not to think about it and suddenly needing some fresh air.

Robert stared after Simon. His face looked worn and his long black trench coat billowed around his knees as he disappeared down the hall. The beeps from the room brought his attention back to the old woman, but the activity had come to a close. A doctor shook his head and pronounced her dead moments later. A nurse stopped in front of him, sympathy in her eyes.

"Did you know her?"

Robert shook his head, and the nurse closed the door behind her.

He turned his attention in the direction Simon had disappeared, his mouth going dry as a thought struck him. That was twice now that people had died while Simon was around. He said he hadn't known the old woman, so why had he even been in the room?

Robert took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was freaking himself out for no good reason. People died all the time. Could be any reason he was in the room. It could have been the wrong room, or maybe he'd delivered some flowers or something. He was a delivery person after all. People delivered flowers and such to hospitals constantly.

He smiled at his stupidity and continued toward Maxine's room. Although more a friend of Jerry's than his own friend, he could at least cheer her up some.