“My life wasn’t anything I’m anxious to get back to. I might as well get a head start on hell. At least it’s warmer than Alaska.”
The man tilted his chin down. “Yes, I imagine living on the streets and being a pickpocket wasn’t that glamorous.”
I wasn’t shocked he knew stuff about me. I mean, if he had the ability to steal my body, somehow turn me into a ghost, and then hang my bodyin his closet,knowing I was a pickpocket wasn’t really impressive.
“Hell isn’t much better. You won’t be cold, but you will be hungry, just not for food. Your soul would be slowly eaten away by the confines of hell. You’ll begin to shrivel and twist until you’re completely empty, and then there’ll be nothing but the stretch of time and the endless sounds of tortured cries from those around you.”
So… if what Mr. Burns said was true, then life and death suck equally.
“What if I told you your life—if returned to you—would be very different than before?”
“Different how?”
“You would have money, a home, a car… You would never be hungry.”
“Go on,” I said, warming to the idea.
“Opportunity would be abundant and you could create a whole new identity for yourself.”
I looked down at my misty form. I was tempted, sure, but still something kept me from accepting right away. “What’s the catch?”
There’s always a catch.
“In exchange for your life, your new and improved life, you would work for me.”
“Doing what?”
“You will be an Escort.”
On the streets, another name for escort was prostitute. “I don’t think I would look good in a dress and heels.”
“You joke. You’re funny,” Mr. Burns said, smiling. “Not that kind of escort. This is more exclusive. More important.”
“So what exactly will I be escorting?” I asked, more confused than before.
Mr. Burns’s little beady eyes gleamed with excitement and he smirked, causing his cheekbones to jut outward.
“Death. You will be a Death Escort.”
Chapter Four
“Remember - To keep (someone) in mind as worthy of consideration or recognition.”
Piper
I was watching the sun rise and feeling sorry for myself when the doorbell rang. I sighed. Why did the doorbellalwaysring when you didn’t want company? I dashed the tears from my cheeks, knowing there was nothing I could do about my swollen eyes, and went to the door.
“Who is it?” I yelled right through the white, peeling door.
“I have a delivery for Piper McCall,” replied a phony deep voice.
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t order anything.”
“Open the damn door, Piper!” Frankie yelled, dropping the fake voice.
I unchained the lock, turned the deadbolt, and pulled open the door. Frankie barely paused to look at me as she bustled by with her armload, yet she saw everything. “If I looked like you I wouldn’t want to open the door either.”
“It’s barely six a.m., Frank. What’re you doing here?”
