B.L. Newport - Reapers Inc - Brigit's Cross.pdf

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Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross
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Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross
Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross
By
B.L. Newport
Smashwords Edition
© 2010 B.L. Newport
This book is available in print at
www.Amazon.com
ISBN: 1449588522
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Acknowledgements
I would like to thank everyone who has ever
said "go for it" when it came to the idea of writing this story. I
would especially like to thank the following people: My mother, for
encouraging my oddities in her own way -- Jennifer Shimp Atkinson,
my longest and closest friend, for the many readings and
suggestions after being relentlessly hounded with questions from
the beginning -- Kristy Trippy, thank you for being an inspiration
during this process and for becoming a fan. To everyone else who
may find a little bit of themselves in this story one way or
another, Thank you.
Finally, the biggest Thank you to my
loving partner, Rochelle. You have been the biggest inspiration and
motivation through it all. Thank you for your love and support. I
couldn't have done this without you.
“For True Love, I’ll wait forever…” -
Edmund J. Polly
Prologue:
Where it Ended, Where it Began
He entered the café quietly and scanned the
room. The usual inhabitants were there: doing the same things they
would do until they decided it was time to go. Some of them were
relatively new to the scene while others had haunted the joint
since its demise in arson back in 1939. His ice blue gaze met the
jovial eyes of Giuseppe Cincotta, the unfortunate soul that had
also met his demise in the arson. Giuseppe nodded and turned to
begin preparing his regular patron’s customary cup of tea.
Slowly, John Blackwick’s gaze moved to the
left and came to rest on the reason he had arrived so early in the
afternoon. ‘The Old Man’, as John called him affectionately, was
waiting patiently – his own gaze deep into the glass of red wine
before him. Silently, John approached him and slid onto the stool
beside his mentor.
“You called for me, Araxius?” John asked as
Giuseppe slid the cup of steaming tea before him. John nodded his
thanks before picking it up and blowing gently across the
surface.
“I did, John. Thank you for making haste,”
Araxius replied solemnly. John sipped from his tea while waiting
for an explanation. Araxius would take his time with it and the
lack of expression on his sunken features did not surprise John at
all. Over the last fifty years, he had become overly accustomed to
the fact that Araxius – one of the founding members of the firm –
lacked any sense of emotion or expression. After all, Araxius was
one of the original Grim Reapers. He had a reputation to
uphold.
“The time has come, John,” Araxius sighed as
he circled the rim of his wineglass with an extremely long and
boney forefinger. The Grim Reaper’s eyes remained sunken into the
depths of the red wine he had loved so dearly as a mortal man so
very long ago.
“Time for what? Am I being fired?” John asked
evenly. He had learned, since joining the firm, to control his
emotions as well as Araxius could; but the occasional urge to
wittiness could still rise up in him.
“No, not at all,” Araxius countered. “In
fact, I would consider it a promotion of sorts.” A slight smile
tugged at the corners of the old man’s mouth, but was not allowed
full exposure.
“Oh?” John swiveled on his stool to face his
mentor. This was a surprise indeed.
“I’m retiring, John. I’ve had enough. I no
longer wish to reap souls. I’m turning the reins of the firm over
to you.”
For the first time in fifty years, John
Blackwick felt a sudden surge of panic within his gut. Although he
was sure the expression was not visible on his face, he was sure he
must have paled even more than his normal complexion. A slight icy
smile finally surfaced on Araxius’ thin lips.
“We’ve all decided to retire,” The
Grim Reaper added. “Everything is yours.” Araxius finally turned
his head and leveled his icy gaze on his companion as if to further
the gravity of the situation.
“Why me? Wait, what do you mean by
“all” of you?” John swallowed hard as his thoughts began to
give in to the panic rising fast from his gut.
“You’re the last to know because someone must
continue on with the work, and someone must open the door for me.
The other continental offices have already closed their doors. All
the files have been relocated here for you to complete. I dare say
I do apologize for such a late notice to your rise in rank; but it
has been a decision we’ve all been considering for quite some
time,” Araxius explained.
“What about the field agents? Are none of
them more qualified than I am to carry on the firm’s work? And what
about the Bailey? Has he retired as well?” John could feel his
palms beginning to sweat; but he knew that was merely a phantom
sensation. The dead didn’t sweat. That had been a fact to him since
day one.
“They’ve all gone, John. They were given
their options this morning. The Bailey, I’m afraid to admit, is
unreachable – off on one of his little sojourns, I suspect. It will
be up to you to find him and give him his options.”
“Oh, I see,” John managed to say as the
reality of the moment sank in on his mind like a cement block
dropped from the top of a skyscraper. John watched Araxius slowly
pick up his wineglass. He lifted it in a silent salute to Giuseppe
before downing the contents in one long swallow. The Old Man sighed
in deep and final satisfaction as he set the glass back to the
counter and stood from his seat. John watched his mentor reach
inside his black robe and withdraw a familiar long black folder. It
was Araxius’ own file.
“You’re leaving now?” John asked as
Araxius extended the folder out to him.
“This is my file, John,” Araxius said quietly
– ignoring his apprentice’s question. “I’m ready to face my fate,”
he announced. A genuine smile finally came to his face as he stared
at the dark haired man before him. Araxius could see the shock (or
was it fear?) on the young man’s face as he stared at the black
folder being held out to him.
Slowly, John managed to raise his hand and
take the folder from Araxius. In silence, he opened it and read the
contents as he stood. From the corner of his eye, John saw the door
appear to his left. Araxius turned to face the door, taking a deep
breath in anticipation. It was to the left of the Reaper who stood
before him. Better than he had hoped for after all this time.
Perhaps there was some redemption to be found between the crossings
after all….
John grasped the handle of the door in his
hand and gently pulled it open before looking his mentor fully in
the eye.
“Araxius Herodotus, may you find eternal
peace,” he cited with a solemn gentleness that suggested he
cared for the soul about to cross the threshold. Araxius lay a
boney hand on John’s shoulder. It was the last rite before passing.
John had learned it beautifully.
“Well said, my boy. Good luck and thank
you.”
John Blackwick could only nod his reply
before Araxius stepped through the door to accept his final
judgment. Softly, John pushed the door shut and stared blankly at
the floor as he tucked the now blank folder of Araxius Herodotus,
former Grim Reaper and original founding member of Reapers,
Inc., deep into the inner pocket of his black suit coat. A new
era of reaping was about to begin. John Blackwick suddenly had no
idea where to start.

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