Chapter 107: Searching for the Answers
Morrigan stirred as a tap on her shoulder was accompanied by a familiar, sophisticated voice.
“Morrigan. Wake up.” It was Noir, and if she wasn’t well used to his presence by now, opening her eyes to see his demonic, glowing yellow peepers staring at her from beside her pillow might have alarmed her. “It’s time.” Behind him, the silhouette of his tail swished in the darkness.
Barely forcing one eye open, Morrigan sat up and glanced at the alarm clock, trying to peer through the blur that still clung to her vision. The red numbers came into focus, showing it was 11:45 p.m., meaning she had managed a few hours of sleep. She rubbed her eyes with her ungloved fingertips as she took a deep breath and softly slapped her own cheek. “Alright, let’s do it,” she said under her breath.
Morrigan slipped out of bed, moving as quietly as possible. She slipped off her basketball shorts that she usually slept in and exchanged them for a pair of black jeanshorts that used to be blue. Her ever-present black hoodie was already on, as it and her fingerless gloves stayed on as often as possible. It was probably one more quirk that the counselors took as a sign of her not-so-great mental state, but explaining why would only succeed in confirming that she was even crazier than they thought.
As she reached for her boots, she heard a faint murmur from the bed across the room. Pepper, half-awake, peeked out from under her covers. “Good luck,” she whispered groggily, her voice barely audible before she nestled back into her pillow and drifted off again.
Morrigan smiled back at her, then tiptoed toward the door with her boots cradled under her arm. She fished the skeleton key out of her pocket, inserted it, and then turned it as slowly and quietly as possible, holding her breath between every scrape and click of the tumbler. Noir’s shadow slipped under the door as she held the knob, and she waited a moment for any warnings from the eldritchian feline.
When nothing stirred beyond Pepper’s steady breathing, she carefully eased the door open and stepped out, pushing it closed behind her with a soft click and inserting the skeleton key once again.
Noir waited in the shadows just down the hall, his form barely distinguishable from the darkness except for those sharp yellow eyes and the faint swish of his tail. Morrigan tiptoed after him, placing her feet close to the wall where the boards would be less likely to squeak. She’d now done this a few dozen times, counting her return trips, so she was quite familiar with any particularly squeaky spots she’d have to avoid.
She glided down the steps in a steady motion, through the living room, down the lower hall, and into the sunroom, where she took a seat on a stool and laced up her boots. She wondered if Jenna or one of her lackeys were watching from their windows right now. It didn’t really matter either way; she’d already been caught, and once she was outside, she would discuss possible remedies for that situation with Noir.
She made her exit into the night air and snuck along the outside of the shelter and to the streets. Noir appeared by her feet, walking as an ordinary cat and no longer an ominous shadow as he accompanied her.
“You have three clients tonight,” he explained. “Two of which are at the hospital, so this should be an easy night for you.”
Morrigan nodded. “Sooo… I actually have another little problem I'll need your help with.”
“What is it?”
“Well…” Morrigan adjusted her hood as she thought of how to explain, knowing she was in for a stern talking-to by the condescending cat no matter how she broached the subject. “Some of the girls at the shelter filmed me leaving a few times, and now they are blackmailing me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Basically, they want me to bring them a pack of cigarettes, or they'll show the counselors and get me kicked out of the shelter.” She continued to walk in silence beside him, Noir not responding. She eventually cleared her throat. “Sooo… I was thinking I could use your help in swiping her phone to delete the evidence.”
“You want me to help you steal something. Do I understand that correctly?”
“Uh, yeah, that’d be great.”
Noir’s tail swished. “You understand this is outside my typical role as your guide.”
Morrigan suppressed a sigh, glancing down at Noir as they kept a steady pace down the street. “I know, Noir, but I thought—well, since we’re such good friends and all, maybe you could make an exception?”
Noir’s yellow eyes narrowed slightly. “And even if we manage to get one phone, it’s entirely possible all three of these girls have the images saved. Have you even considered that these phones are likely password-protected as well?”
Morrigan winced, realizing he was probably right about that. “Then I guess they’re not getting their phones back.”
Noir stopped in his tracks, fixing her with a steely glare. “Stealing all three phones? Do you realize even if we did so, they would know it was you, which would only lead to more questions about how you pulled it off? Considering you’re planning on using supernatural means to accomplish this, I believe it is a reckless escalation of the problem. Not to mention it would make their vendetta against you stronger.”
Morrigan met his gaze, undeterred. “Alright, then what do you suggest? If swiping their phones is out, how do we make this go away?”
Noir scoffed, his tail flicking with clear annoyance. “I’m here to guide you as a reaper, not to play accomplice in your social dramas. Can you not find a way to deal with this yourself?”
“If I could, I wouldn’t be asking,” Morrigan hissed through her teeth. “Right now, all I can think is to get the stupid cigarettes just to buy myself some time.”
“I frankly don’t understand why you’re making things so much more complicated than necessary. Your job would be much easier if you weren’t intent on staying at that shelter in the first place.”
“Well, I’d love to leave; I just can’t. Not right now anyway. Not until I know my mom is okay.”
“You could still check on your mother on occasion while living at the cabin.”
“But then I’d be abandoning Pepper.”
“A girl you’ve only known for a few weeks.”
“Yeah, well, she’s my friend!” Morrigan snapped. “And on top of that, she’s a gazer, or whatever. Shouldn’t we—you know—make sure we’re keeping tabs on her or something?”
“That is not our job.”
“Well, Death seemed interested in her.”
“Master’s curiosity over someone with a rare power does not equate to any responsibility for her well-being.”
Finally, Morrigan’s temper boiled over. She didn’t know why she ever expected any less from this damn cat. It seemed like any time she felt herself warming up to him, he’d start acting like that and remind her why they never seemed to get along. “Fine, whatever. Screw it then; if you’re nothing but my guide, then just shut up and guide me.”
She stomped ahead until he called after her. “Morrigan!”
She clenched her fist, spun around, and snapped, “What!?”
He tilted his head in the other direction. “You’re going the wrong way.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
She fixed him with a glare that could freeze hell over. He sat on his haunches completely unperturbed, tail swishing back and forth.
***
Morrigan stepped out of the shadows, stumbling as the ground materialized beneath her moving feet. She looked around, finding herself in a patch of grass between roadways, and it took a few minutes of scanning the highway over the next hill to figure out where she was.
“Okay… so the hospital should be…” She turned east. “That way.” She then stepped into the shadows once again.
This time, when she stepped out again, the hospital was in view but still a short walk away, so she decided to just hoof it the normal way now. After all, the hospital parking lot was well lit, so shadow stepping wouldn’t work well from here either way.
Noir appeared by her feet, walking alongside her. “Your shadow stepping is getting much better.”
Morrigan turned her chin away from him without responding. She was still mad.
If Noir won’t help, I’ll see if Hilda has any ideas involving magic that I can use. Besides, I’m a reaper—sneaking into their rooms myself is still an option.
As she approached the front of the hospital, she went ahead and activated her perception blocking. The receptionist at the front desk didn’t so much as glance in her direction as she walked toward the stairs and pulled out her list. It seemed she had two clients back-to-back here in the hospital tonight, so that at least made things easy. Then she’d just have one more somewhere else, but she’d worry about that later.
The first client was fast asleep, hooked to machinery that tracked his soon-to-be failing heartbeat. Morrigan decided to just send him on without troubling him, so she reached for her scythe, materialized it, then passed it through him smoothly. As the soul rose up through the ceiling without a word, the heart monitor slowed to a drawn-out static beep. There would be doctors or nurses coming to check on him at any moment, so Morrigan quickly slipped out and continued down the hall.
Checking her list for the next name, it was still another hour before they were listed to pass away on their own. However, Morrigan saw the cause of death was heart failure, so she figured it wouldn’t be too much of a problem to do them early. If fate didn’t care exactly when and where ‘a little orphan girl’ died, then cardiac arrest for someone who was bedridden probably didn’t need to happen at the precise right moment either.
Morrigan passed down a certain hallway that she remembered quite well, as this was where her very first reaping of a human being had been done, just a little over three months ago and two days after she herself had died. She could still remember the nerves she felt as the moment approached, then the panic attack on her way out of the hospital that had her vomiting out in the front yard.
Tonight she had just reaped one soul and was casually going on to her next. It was weird to think how she’d adjusted to this job, and wondered if she was slowly becoming a sociopath. Death, for all his good intentions and wisdom, did have a sort of disconnected side to himself regarding these things. Alice, Morrigan doubted, ever spared her clients more than a second thought.
But Morrigan was beginning to feel she was far too early into this job to judge either of them. After all, it’s only been three months for her—and maybe around 100 reapings—and already she felt the whole process becoming quite routine.
Morrigan entered the room of her second client and froze because she saw the old woman was awake. Morrigan took another look at her list to get her name.
Crap, I’m already not even bothering to note their names first… That’s actually kind of shitty of me. Okay, she’s awake though, so I guess I should talk to her. Time to get into character.
Morrigan squared her shoulders and pulled her hood lower to shadow her face. With a deep breath, she stepped closer to the bed and disengaged her perception blocking. The old woman’s eyes met hers immediately, confused at first, then widening, perhaps taking in Morrigan’s paper-white skin and the soft red glow of her eyes under the hood.
“Good evening, Ms. Harper,” Morrigan said, her voice low and steady. “I’m afraid your time is nearly done, and I’m here to guide you to the next step.”
The old woman’s wide eyes narrowed down to a more neutral expression, and then she smiled. “Good. I’ve been waiting.”
Morrigan blinked. That wasn’t the reaction she expected. Some souls accept their fate easier than others, but she hadn’t exactly been told she’d been expected yet.
“Oh, that’s, um, good, I guess.” She winced at her awkwardness, having been slightly thrown off. She collected herself before trying again. “I suppose that means you are ready?”
The old woman smiled faintly. “I’ll admit, I pictured you quite differently. But are you truly death’s emissary?”
“I suppose. We just call ourselves reapers, ma’am. But if you’re sure you are ready to go…” Morrigan reached to the side and pulled her scythe out of the air.
The woman looked at it for a moment, her eyes tracing the soft glow of the blade. “Yes, I’ve already said my goodbyes. I’m afraid there is nothing more for me to do in this life. But… there’s one thing I’d like to know, if I may ask.”
Morrigan canted her head. “If I can answer, I will.”
The old woman’s frail hands trembled as she clasped them together. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling for a moment, as if searching for the right words. Then her eyes returned to Morrigan, steady and piercing despite their age.
“Will I see them again?” she asked softly. “The people I’ve lost. My husband. My daughter. My parents… Will they be waiting for me?”
Daughter… Morrigan thought, now thinking of her own mother. She wondered how long ago Mrs. Harper lost her daughter.
Morrigan took a moment to consider how to answer. It wasn’t the first time she’d been asked this question, and she doubted it would be the last. Though, she believed honesty was the best way to go with these things. “To tell the truth, I don’t know. Whatever comes next is a mystery for anyone who exists on this plane, and that includes reapers. But I believe you will. I do know there is a heaven, and I think it’s only right that we’ll see our loved ones when we go there.”
Except for me, of course. My soul is damned to either limbo or an eternity of reaping. But this is Mrs. Harper’s moment; I’ll lement my own fate another time.
The woman studied her for a moment, then nodded again, as if satisfied. “That’s enough for me.”
Morrigan offered a faint smile, her hands tensing on the scythe as she prepared to lift it, but something held her back. It was Mrs. Harper mentioning her daughter, those words tugging at Morrigan. “Um… Mrs. Harper, if I may, can I ask how old your daughter was when you lost her?”
The old woman's expression dropped into a deeper frown, perhaps recalling that day. “She was nineteen. She had just started college and… She had such a bright future ahead of her.”
Mrs. Harper’s voice faltered, and her hands clenched slightly on the thin hospital blanket. “But she made a mistake. She went to a party, one of those wild college things. I’d talked to her earlier that evening, and she was so excited to tell me all about her experiences living on campus and her classes—she was studying veterinary sciences. She told me she loved me, and I said it back. It was the last time I ever heard her voice.”
Morrigan stayed quiet, letting Mrs. Harper continue.
“She overdosed,” the old woman said, her voice barely a whisper. “They said it was accidental, that she probably didn’t even realize what she was taking. Some combination of pills and alcohol… The doctors said it was quick.”
Morrigan’s grip on her scythe tightened. She had heard and witnessed plenty of tragic stories during her short time as a reaper. Maybe it was hearing the way Mrs. Harper’s voice wavered that hit home.
Okay… maybe I’m not turning into a sociopath after all… Not yet anyway.
“I’m so sorry,” Morrigan said softly, lowering her scythe slightly.
Mrs. Harper smiled faintly, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Thank you, dear. But it was a long time ago, and I’ve made my peace with it. As much as a mother can, anyway.”
“I’m sorry if I’m being too nosy but… I have to know. How were you able to go on?”
Mrs. Harper took a long moment to think it over, but she answered. “When I got the news, I was devastated, and, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I could go on. I suppose support from my husband and other family members was the biggest factor, but also finding faith in God and religious support helped me through the bigger questions.”
Morrigan frowned at that. Her mom didn’t have that kind of support from anyone… And relgioin? Morrigan couldn’t imagine her mom ever turning to God for the answers. She’d be more likely to throw a bible at anyone who even tried to offer that as a solution.
“Did religion really help?” Morrigan asked quietly.
Mrs. Harper smiled faintly. “Honestly, not in the way you might think, and I’ve always had some reservations about the absolute certainty of how it all worked. But it was enough for me to have faith there was something beyond this world and that she was in a good place. And over time, I started to see that my daughter’s life, though cut short, had meaning.”
Morrigan nodded, taking in her words. “Thank you for sharing, Mrs. Harper,” she said softly, her voice steady now.
Mrs. Harper gave her a faint but genuine smile. “And thank you, dear, for listening. It means more than you know.”
Morrigan raised her scythe slightly. “Are you ready?”
“I am,” Mrs. Harper said, her voice calm and resolute. “I know it’s my time.”
With that, Morrigan passed the scythe through the old woman, and her body fell limp. Just like her last client, the heart monitor flatlined, and Morrigan moved out of the room as an unseen shadow.
Mrs. Harper’s story, unfortunately, didn’t exactly leave her with a clear answer. Family, religion, community. Her mom had none of those things. The changeling stirred under its seal, synonymous with a familiar sinking in Morrigan’s chest. She’d eventually have to leave this life behind. Could she try continuing to be in her mom’s life, even as a reaper? The situation felt hopeless.
Once she was off the hospital grounds, she checked her list again. One more soul to reap tonight. Once she finished with that, she’d have a little time to spend with Emma before heading back to the shelter.
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