Page 30 of How to Survive Your Own Death

He sprang fully formed into existence during an autumnal night. The moon had been full, the air cold, and the leaves rattled in the most delightful way. He sat on the bare ground, doing nothing more than watching clouds drift over the moon and listening to the quiet sounds of the night.

Being a new creation, Bazel knew his purpose and his designation. He had all the knowledge he needed to navigate the mortal realm and spoke several languages. He wasn’t of the world but he could experience it and every experience was new and fascinating.

If he had ever been mortal—human—he had no memories of the experience.

Yet he had odd desires. Food cravings that he could not account for. He was not required to consume sustenance in the manner that humans did, but he had eaten. He shared meals with the occasional mortal who was not too afraid to break bread with death. More often, he shared meals with those enamored with death. The idea of death, though, never the reality.

His body did not receive nutrition from food yet he could not say that he ate purely out of the need to be sociable. He enjoyed the taste. The aroma. Warm bread dripping with butter and jam was a particular favorite. The ritual of preparation and consumption gave him something far more than sustenance and he very much wanted to share an ice cream cone with Geri.

Had he been human once? Was the craving for vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles a clue to his past?

Perhaps it was nothing more than Geri’s endless questions rattling him. Surely that had to be it.

He did not desire to be human. They were, as a whole, messy and loud. In his four centuries of observing their brief lives, he had never once felt anything akin to envy.

Until today.

Until that ice cream cone. He did not want to consume the ice cream. As he watched Geraldine savor the cone, he wanted to lick the sweetness from her lips, to taste vanilla and feel her warmth.

He wanted.

He had not wanted anything for a very long time. He was a shade now, unable to interact with the physical world, but the truth was he had been a shade for years, perhaps decades. Walking the world but never a part of it, existing only as a shadow.

Mere existence was no longer enough.

CHAPTER 9

BAZEL

“What’s the reaper retirement plan look like?”

Geri’s curiosity was endless. He did not consider it a bad thing, but it was exhausting.

“I do not know,” he answered.

She snorted. “Your favorite words.”

He knew, of course, but the answer was complex and he did not wish to go into the details. Instead, he said, “A reaper’s lifespan is not like yours.”

“So you work until you drop dead?” In one hand she clutched a cup of coffee. The other held a bagel. Bones patiently at her feet, waiting for a morsel to drop.

“We exist to work. If we can no longer perform our duties, we are not reapers,” he said.

“Work until you cease to exist. Sounds terrible. Hold this for a second.” She extended the coffee to him, silently asking him to hold it, and immediately realized her mistake. Cheeks red, her gaze bounced between the coffee and bagel. She set the coffee down on a nearby ledge, tore off a chunk of the bagel, and tossed it to Bones who gulped it down.

“Have some decorum,” Bazel chided. Bones licked her chops, unbothered. “You are learning bad habits and it is concerning.”

“Why do you care if she has bad manners?” Geri asked, taking a bite of the bagel. “I thought she wasn’t your dog.”

“Disgraceful, the pair of you.”

Geri laughed and tossed Bones another chunk.

“But seriously,” she said, “are you and your four centuries considered old for a reaper?”

“You want to know this because…” He let his voice trail off.

“Just curious.”