Chapter 14: A Reaper’s Duty

Once at the bottom of the ladder, Morrigan searched for her glove and found it discarded where she had originally taken it off. She kneeled down to pick it up, then stared at her open palm until Noir’s voice shook her out of her daze.

“Quickly, Morrigan,” he said, and she looked up to see him further down the alleyway.

“Right,” she said, slipping the glove on.

Normally, he would walk alongside her, and they would chat as they made their way to wherever they were going. While their chats were not always completely friendly, in hindsight, there was a levity to their usual banter that seemed completely absent now. For the first time, Morrigan truly felt the weight of his disapproval.

As they walked, Morrigan’s mind raced. Should she have done things differently? She had prioritized taking down the murderer over reaping the soul of the child because it seemed like the most logical course of action. At that moment, how could she just let him get away and possibly hurt someone else? As it turned out, she was completely useless against that monster, and it was only thanks to Noir she made it out alive. But when she made her choice, how could she have known?

Now, she also saw a new side of Noir, one she wasn’t sure how to feel about. She had thought of him as a guide and somewhat of a companion. A constant, if not frustrating, presence in her new life as a reaper. But what she had witnessed… it unsettled her.

As they returned to the street, she saw the accident’s aftermath. Yellow caution tape barricaded the scene while police questioned the truck driver, who was seated on the curb at the opposite side of the street, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief, shaking his head, fingers splayed over his temples.

A ghastly, dark red streak smeared the asphalt, leading to the truck’s tires where paramedics stood around, seemingly at a loss for how to get what remained of the boy out from the wheel well of the truck.

Noir stopped abruptly, his tail swishing as he looked back at Morrigan, his golden-yellow eyes piercing through her. “This is what you left behind,” he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. The firm clarification sent a new wave of guilt crashing through her.

Morrigan took a deep breath, steeling herself. Pushing through the crowd, avoiding the caution tape, she finally saw him—the spirit of the boy who had been killed. He sat with his back against one of the police cars, knees folded up into his chest, hiding his face. He was sobbing, his softly translucent form shimmering as tears fell from his eyes and evaporated before they touched the ground.

“Go on,” Noir said.

“Do I just…” she felt her stomach sinking, unsure how to proceed.

“You can explain to him what’s happening first, if it makes you feel better,” Noir said. “Assure him his passage to heaven will be swift and painless. My magic will keep anyone from noticing you.”

Tears welled up in Morrigan’s eyes as she stepped over the caution tape and approached him. She spared only a glance to a nearby officer, verifying that he did not seem to notice her.

“Hey there,” Morrigan said to the boy as she kneeled down to be closer to eye level with him. He did not respond. “Hey, listen, everything is going to be alright,” she said, doing her best to keep a soothing tone to her voice.

He slowly lifted his head, saying nothing but looking into her eyes.

“Um… listen, you’re going to go to heaven now, and… everything will be okay once you’re up there.”

“H-heaven?”

“Yeah.” She thought of what Noir had said. “It’ll be quick and painless.” She hated the way that came out. She was sure it didn’t sound comforting at all.

His eyes went back between his legs. “I’m dead…”

Morrigan was silent for a moment. She could see how he was still processing it. She didn’t know what to say or how to make this easier for him. “I’m sorry,” she said under her breath.

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“Somebody pushed me,” he whispered. “Why? Why did they do that?” That’s what Morrigan wanted to know as well. All she had gotten in the way of an answer was, the younger the better.

“I don’t know.”

“Can I get a second chance?” the boy asked. “I don’t get why I have to die. It’s not fair!”

Morrigan remained silent, kneeling there with her arms over her knees, looking away from him.

“I can’t,” Morrigan said. “I wish I could offer you a second chance, but I don’t have that power. I can only move you on to what’s next, which… I’m sure is better than right here.”

The boy looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers. “I-I don’t want to go. I just want to go home.”

Morrigan understood that better than she could say. Her lips tensed. “It’s…” words failed her.

Come on, say something, you idiot. Comfort him, anything!

“I-I’m sorry…” is all she could manage.

Defeated, the boy looked back between his legs. “Will they catch the man who did this to me?”

Morrigan looked back at Noir briefly, contemplating her experience with the dark force she’d confronted earlier. “Yes,” she said, even though she didn’t know if it was true or not. She then returned her eyes to him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him to justice.”

The boy stared back at her, more focused than earlier. “Are you an angel?” he asked.

“No, not really,” she said. “Honestly, this is only my second day on the job. I... I died a couple of days ago, too. I was also murdered, my life taken by someone who had no right to take it.”

“Really?” the boy asked.

She nodded. “It was the last day of school. I was looking forward to the summer. I was on my way to a party. So I understand… It’s scary and confusing, you don’t know what to expect next, and it just feels so unfair. I remember feeling so angry and sad at the same time, like losing something you really care about, but it’s so much worse because you’re not losing one thing; it feels like you’re losing everything.”

The boy looked at her with a new depth in his eyes. “Will it get easier?”

“I think so,” she replied softly. “I’m still trying to make sense of things myself.”

He seemed to mull over her words, a somber expression clouding his young face. “So what happens now?”

“You move on. I don’t know what heaven’s like, but I’m told it’s a peaceful place, a place where your soul can rest, and you won’t have to carry any of this pain or confusion anymore.”

“Can I at least say goodbye to mommy first?”

Her heart ached, whispering her next words. “I don’t think so… but, is there anyone in heaven who might be waiting for you?”

The boy’s expression softened as he considered this. “Grandma? Will I get to see her?”

“Yes…” Morrigan gave a smile, fairly sure of the answer. “I’m sure your grandma’s there waiting for you right now.”

The boy considered her words carefully. “Can you promise it’ll be okay?”

Morrigan hesitated, a lump forming in her throat. “I can’t promise anything,” she said truthfully. “But I believe it’s better than what you’re going through now.”

He nodded, drawing in a shaky, ethereal breath. “W-what about Jazzers? He was my dog.”

Morrigan smiled. “All dogs go to heaven. I know he’ll be there.”

The boy seemed to smile at that. It was a soft, compromised smile, but it was better than nothing. “O-okay then…” He tensed up. He still looked scared but maybe more accepting. “Take me to grandma and Jazzers.”

Morrigan glanced back at Noir who was watching silently, his golden-yellow eyes unreadable. She then stood up, and reached to the side, summoning her scythe, the pole and blade taking shape from the blue light until it was whole.

“This is my scythe,” she explained to him. “It won’t hurt, but it will sever your ties to this world, so you can move on.” She looked to Noir for reassurance, wondering if she had explained properly, and she thought some approval laced in his eyes.

A cloud overhead moved over the sun, casting them in daytime shadow. “Ready?” Morrigan asked, standing as her scythe materialized in her hands, its ethereal glow casting a soft light.

The boy looked at her, then at the scythe, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Morrigan took a deep breath. For a moment, she felt a wave of guilt wash over her; was she doing the right thing? Shaking off the doubt, she focused on the weight of the scythe, the feel of it in her hands.

With a fluid motion, she swept the scythe down, passing it through the boy’s form. His figure shimmered brightly, a swirl of light enveloping him. For a moment, their eyes met one last time.

“Thank you,” the boy whispered, his voice barely audible, before the swirl of light lifted, dissipating into the sky.

The scythe disappeared from her hands, its task completed. Morrigan stood there, her eyes filled with tears, staring at the empty space as a soft wind whipped her hair in front of her eyes.