Morgana leaned forward, grabbed the plate of pancakes, put two on her plate, then passed it to Ezul. “We’ve already thought of that. I’ve determined that we need a witch.”
Azriel’s gaze fell on Hale in an almost accusatory way. “Yes, a witch would do nicely. I know of one.”
Hale’s cheeks turned a dark pink. He grabbed the plate of sausages, put one on his plate, and passed the plate to Francis. “I guess I can help, but I’m not very good. I’ve never been good at using my magic.”
“Most likely, you just didn’t have a good teacher,” Ezul said with a shrug. “I know someone if you’d like to learn.”
Hale nodded.
It was Ossy who spoke next. His gaze fell on Morgana. “How do we know we can trust him?”
Ezul huffed. His lips thinned. He didn’t speak, not even to defend himself.
Morgana cut in before the argument could start. She met my gaze. “After breakfast, do some research to see if you can find a witch who can both ward the property and teach Hale to use his magic.”
I nodded. “How does one go about finding a witch? It’s not like they advertise on the internet.”
Ezul waved his hand. “I’d look for witches showcasing their paraphernalia. Social media is filled with them.”
“Good idea. Thanks.” I smiled.
Ezul nodded.
It seemed I had a job to do at the reaper headquarters. The environment might have changed, and might change again, but the job was still the same. It was a bit of a relief.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ossy
After breakfast, it was all hands on deck. We scattered, but most of us set out to find souls. I was assigned to Hollowbrook, and so were five of the other guys. We each took a section of town.
As soon as I reached Main Street, I saw lost souls. I thought Mary was exaggerating about souls coming to Hollowbrook to find reapers. In my mind, there were only Mary, the man she followed into the field, and the three others. After all, how would souls find a small town in the Midwest? Mary had underplayed it. There were so many of them that even the living could see them.
What brought them there? Did they have some sort of instinct that told them where the reapers were? Was it Donn’s doing? In the past, I knew where a soul was rather than a soul knowing my location. But that had reversed.
A man from the florist’s shop screamed as he ran out the front door. He wore an apron that readFrank’s Floral Designs. He had a shock of purple hair mixed in with the blond. Gray was scattered in. He might have been in his 50s.
A soul followed him out. It was a woman with short, dark hair and a wicked grin. She wore jeans and an army-green T-shirt. She must be scaring him on purpose. If her laughter was any indication, she enjoyed haunting the florist. The minute she met my gaze, she cursed and went back into the store.
I followed her inside.
The living didn’t see me unless I wanted them to, but the dead sure did. The living weren’t supposed to see the souls, either. Most of the time, they were oblivious. On occasion, a soul would stay under our radar long enough for the living to sense it. It seemed everything was more backward than forward since the reapers had left the Bureau.
Was Donn allowing souls to be seen?
The woman hid behind the counter, crouched in the corner, ready to spring up if she needed to. She held her fingers like a gun. Even if she had a real one, she still wouldn’t be able to hurt me. I didn’t think it was about hurting anyone. She seemed comfortable with a firearm, so much so that holding one felt like muscle memory.
I could see through her to the cabinetry behind, as if someone had dialed her transparency down to about thirty percent.
My empathy for her grew as her chin wobbled and she sank to the floor, sitting on her bottom and leaning against the counter. “I don’t want to be dead.”
I sat next to her. I didn’t say anything else because she didn’t need me to. It didn’t matter what she wanted. She was dead. That was that. Nothing I could say would change it. She had to reach some form of acceptance on her own.
Oftentimes, people thought death was the end. And in some ways, it was. It was also a new beginning. Starting over in a new realm was beautiful for most people. On occasion, we ferried terrible people. They were serial killers, abusers, and narcissists. Narcissism was a killer for a good afterlife. The darkness suckedthe politicians in the most, gripped by shadowy hands and fear. It was how they would spend their next life.
I didn’t get to choose. As a reaper, my job was simple. Bring them to the door so they could walk through. I could sense things about people. I knew this woman’s entire life had been about protecting others. She paid the price for it. But she wasn’t sorry. Quite the opposite. She was happy to die for the cause. She was good at protecting others. So good that she’d become a secret the government kept in its back pocket. Her biggest flaw in life was following orders without question.
She’d done so blindly.
