Page 2 of Grim Tidings

His smile drops.

“Fine, I get it. Darcy prefers to work alone.” He gives me an ex-aggerated pout. “Darcy doesn’t need any help with her all-powerful reaping.”

“I’m not all-powerful.”

Far from it. I’m barely holding it together and hoping no one notices.

While most souls cross over to the place beyond, some are saved for employment here at the Department of Hauntings and Spirits. I was assigned the office of Grim Reapers, but there are others, too. Poltergeists, Holiday Spirits, Possessions, Cupids. I don’t even know all that exists under our departmental umbrella.

Some spirits think they’re anchored to this place because of unfinished business, while others believe it’s the final test before they move on to whatever is next.

I think that if no one can bother to change a water filter regularly, there isn’t much hope for some grand plan. We’re being used as cheap labor. Indentured servitude, our immortal souls tied to this bureaucratic afterlife as glorified pencil pushers. I don’t know what I expected would happen when I died, but it certainly wasn’t this. An office with too-bright fluorescents, incompetent coworkers, and a stack of overdue paperwork on the edge of the desk I’m never at.

“This place is hard enough, don’t you think?” The expression on Brad’s face shifts. A flash of petulance beneath all that good boy charm. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting some company.”

Hesitation pinches between my shoulder blades. I remember what it was like when I first arrived. I had spent months and months confined to a bed with sheets that smelled like disinfectant. Pain sharp as knives and then … nothing. A woman with a kind smile hovering over me, her hands holding on to mine.

“Are you ready to leave now, my darling?” she asked.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Please.”

And then we were here. Standing in an empty hallway lined with doors. Her with her black cloak draped around her shoulders and me still in my hospital gown.

Those first few weeks in the afterlife had been exhilarating. I thought it was a second chance. Another life, without pain.

But it wasn’t a life at all. It was a trick. An illusion.

The loneliness set in hard and fast, a hollow ache carved into my chest. I know what it’s like to crave something more.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Brad. “You’re right. It is lonely. I’m just—I think I’ve been working too much.”

His smile returns, encouraged. “Maybe you should take a break. Have some fun.”

I try to keep my face neutral. “Maybe.”

Where does one find fun? Not in this office, that’s for sure. They say that those who become Reapers are the souls with the greatest potential for darkness. It doesn’t matter that I had no say in my designation. I’m treated like the second coming of the bubonic plague everywhere I go. I’ve never once gone to one of the interoffice pot-lucks. Never received an invitation to the Malevolent Spirits’ book club.

“Maybe”—Brad shifts closer, drawing out the word, trying to be coy but only managing a faint approximation of constipated—“we could have fun together.”

I tip my chin up, careful to keep space between us. “Our office has a no-fraternization policy.”

“Does it?”

I don’t know. But if we don’t, I’m going to drop a note in the suggestion box. I might be lonely, but I don’t intend to seek solace in the arms of candy-colored Brad. My standards didn’t disappear when I died.

“I should get going,” I hedge, avoiding the question. “I’m late for assignment selection.”

Brad’s eyes flare in interest. “That’s today?”

He looks far too eager for what is essentially the end of another person’s life. I manage a tight smile and start to edge around him and toward the door. “Yep.”

“Can I come?”

“Only Reapers are allowed in front of the tree.”

“I won’t tell.” He makes a cross over his heart, staying close. “Swear it.”

“It doesn’t matter. The tree would know.”