Chapter 27: Stairway to Death
The security guards walked behind her as they led her to the elevator. Once inside, Morrigan planted herself in the corner while the two of them stuck to the opposite wall. At least they weren’t too rough with escorting her out. They seemed to treat this like it was an almost normal occurrence, though she didn’t think that was entirely due to Noir’s magic.
In the awkward silence of the moving elevator, eventually, one of them asked, “So… are you an activist or something?”
She sighed. “No, I’m a devotee of our lord and savior. I was just trying to spread the good word.”
The security guard on her left snorted. “There are better ways to preach your religion, kid. Breaking into offices isn’t one of them. Mr. Roy is too busy for unannounced visits.”
“Noted.”
“So, how did you get in?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. I was surprised to find it was unlocked.”
They looked at each other and leaned in as they whispered, deliberating on how that may have happened. They seemed to conclude Mr. Roy forgot to lock it and left it at that.
“Well, let’s make this easy,” the bigger of the two guards said. “I don’t feel like locking up a teenage girl in a room while we sort this out. So we’ll escort you out, and from now on, you are banned from these premises. Understand?”
Morrigan folded her hands in a mock show of relief. “You mean I’m free to go?”
“Just don’t cause any more trouble. Alright?”
“Oh yes, sir! But I just hope Mr. Roy’s wayward soul can one day see the light!”
The bigger guy scratched the back of his head. “Not that it’s any of my business… but you’re too young to take things so seriously. Try to live a little, alright kid?”
“Live a little?” she scratched her nose to hide a smirk. “Yeah… good advice.”
As they made it back through the lobby and to the front door, one said, “Now we’d better not see you here again. If we catch you so much as hovering around outside, we’ll be filing trespassing charges. Understand?”
Technically can’t do that if I’m on a public sidewalk, Morrigan thought.
“Got it,” she said, and started walking away. After getting halfway down the block and confirming they were no longer watching her, she looked down at Noir, who had that infuriatingly smug rise to his whiskers. “Don’t say anything.”
“Do I need to?” Noir asked. “I had thought you were finally starting to understand your duties as a reaper.”
“Well, sorry! It’s a little different when I actually have to do the killing, you know. I figured…”
“Figured what?” Noir shot back. “Figured you’d bend the rules to suit what makes you comfortable? Again? I had thought you were starting to understand where your duties end.”
Morrigan glared at him and returned his aggressive tone. “I just figured maybe I could give someone a chance to say a few things that were left unsaid. Is that so bad?”
“It is when it interferes with your duties. Now that they are watching for you, it will be difficult to get back into his office.”
“Yeah… you think I don’t know that?” she sighed and sat on a bench, turning to look at the top of the building. Behind one of those windows way at the top was Mr. Roy, and she had approximately—she checked her phone—an hour and a half to kill him.
Morrigan slumped back on the bench, her mind racing for a solution.
“We need a new approach,” Morrigan said, more to herself than to Noir. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for any inspiration. Then it hit her. “What if we don’t need to go inside? What if we can get him to come out?”
Noir tilted his head. “Go on.”
“We could create a situation that requires him to leave his office. Something urgent but believable. Maybe a family emergency?”
“I suppose it is an idea. But time is of the essence. How do you expect to pull it off?”
Morrigan pulled out her phone and started searching for information about the Roy family. “Well, he cares about his kids…” She quickly verified that Micheal Roy had a son and a daughter named Jason and Trish. They were both in their thirties, and it seemed Trish worked for his company, but Morrigan couldn’t find much information on Jason other than an old news article about a DUI-related arrest. “Hm… If I can find a way to contact one of them and… uh…” she paused and looked up, her mind weighing any possibilities.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m thinking.”
Noir sighed. “This is getting far too complicated already.”
Morrigan bit her lip, thinking. “I could try to reach out to Trish, his daughter. If I can somehow make her believe that her brother is in trouble, she might call her father.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Even if that leads to him leaving the building, he will likely have security with him. Furthermore, you can not predict his actions. More likely, one of them will contact Jason, verify it’s a false alarm, and chalk it up to a prank call.”
“Well, then, what ideas do you have? Because I’m not hearing any.”
“Oh, but I thought you had this handled.”
Morrigan sighed and pulled out her list. “Know what? This one’s too complicated. Why don’t we just say forget it and come back another day? People don’t always die when they are supposed to, right? So… you know.”
“We have no idea what effect that may have on fate,” Noir said. “Besides, there is a simple solution you are not thinking of.”
“Oh?”
“You have the skeleton key. Simply enter through a fire exit, use the stairs, and you’ll have no problem getting back to the top floor.”
Morrigan stared at him.
“Is something wrong?”
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“You seemed so sure of yourself. I simply did not want to steal your thunder.” Noir turned and started walking back towards the building. The way his tail flicked up and down, Morrigan felt was his way of rubbing it in.
She followed him and hissed through her teeth, “I’m going to stuff you in a bag and toss you in a river, cat.”
Noir glanced back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’d love to see you try.”
***
Going through an alleyway between buildings, Morrigan found a metal door that was likely used for an emergency exit. She used the skeleton key and found herself in a large concrete stairwell that lacked the austerity of the other parts of the building. After going up about ten flights of steps she sighed and said, “How big is this place again?”
“His office is on floor fifty.”
“Great…”
At least the doors which led into the building proper were numbered, because she doubted she would be able to keep track of her progress otherwise.
By the thirties, she took off her hoodie and held it under one arm while the other hand used the railing to pull herself up each step. “Why didn’t I ask for a stamina boost in that stupid contract? Does this reaping business at least come up with a level-up system?”
“Oh, did I not show you how to access your system menu?”
Morrigan stopped. “Wait, what? Do we have that?”
“Sure,” he started. “You have a good amount of experienced points saved up from the last few days so that should bring you up at least ten levels.”
“Screw off, Noir,” she gasped as she continued the trek up the stairs.
Noir, on the other hand, was completely unphased by the climb. “You still have your flesh so you are limited by the needs of a physical body. When you eventually decide to discard these human parts of yourself, you’ll find that fatigue, hunger, and other corporeal conditions will no longer plague you.”
“Right, but then I’ll be nothing but bones.”
“Indeed.”
Floor forty five…
“How long does that usually take?”
“Depends largely on you and how well you take care of your body. You could remain as you are, more or less, for a few thousand years if you are careful. However, many reapers find the limitations of their flesh an encumbrance and choose to discard it much sooner.”
“Okay, discard away!” Morrigan panted. “I’m done with this!”
“Are you sure?” Noir said, looking her way. “I can easily begin ripping—”
“I’m joking! I’m joking! No ripping anything away, please! You damn demonic cat!”
“Too bad… its been a while since I’ve consumed fresh meat.”
“Okay, thats it, I’m officially pretending this conversation never happened… starting now.”
Floor forty-six… forty-seven…
“After this… no more Miss. Nice Reaper,” Morrigan gasped under her breath, her neck and under her arms slick with sweat. “I’m running in there and bum-rushing the old man. No questions asked.”
On floor forty-eight, the stairwell was blocked by a locked door. Morrigan leaned against the wall, catching her breath, her hoodie draped over her forearm as she fished through the pocket for the skeleton key. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought that it wasn’t there and dreaded trekking back down the stairs to search for it. She found its smooth surface eventually, though, and sighed with relief, just now realizing how unnaturally weightless the tool was.
She slid it into the lock, then put her hoodie back on as she ascended the final flights of stairs. Figuring she should still try to look the part, she pulled the hood over her head.
Finally, at floor fifty, she cautiously cracked the door open and peered into the hallway. The corridor was quiet, with only the muffled sounds of distant activity filtering through the closed doors of various offices. Morrigan slipped through stealthily. Noir followed close behind.
They made their way towards Mr. Roy’s office, Morrigan taking a deep breath as she reached to the side and felt for her scythe, pulling it into existence easily as it materialized in her hand.
“You seem to be taking this more seriously now,” Noir said.
“Damn if I’m walking up those steps again,” she said under her breath as the skeleton key morphed into a black keycard with a skull on it.
She realized a dire mistake in her approach last time. Whenever Death revealed himself to someone he was about to reap, he did it as he was. That is, he didn’t do that trick with affecting their perception. Every time he did so, the soon-to-be-reaped souls had a certain recognition in their eyes, as if they didn’t really need a formal explanation.
Of course, she did still have skin on her bones, perception blocking or not, but she guessed the combination of her red eyes, white skin, scythe, and black clothing should do the trick.
She pushed open the door and entered. Micheal Roy was nowhere in sight. She was about to make an agitated remark to that effect but heard some noise from another door she assumed to be his private bathroom.
Morrigan took note of the call button and promptly sat on the corner of the desk where she would block it. No chance of that happening again now.
Noir jumped up onto the desk and sat on his haunches beside her. “You’re still hesitating.”
“No, I’m not. I’m not walking in on him in the damn bathroom, alright? Just make sure you cease your perception-blocking power. I want him to see me as I am.”
“It seems you are picking up on a few things after all.”
“Just be quiet.”
Noir turned to her with a glare but said nothing else.
She heard a toilet flush, and then the sink, and finally, the bathroom door opened. Micheal Roy took a few distracted steps towards her before his head shot up and he let out an audible gasp. “Y-you! How did you get back… in here…” his voice trailed off as terror slowly draped over his face.
Morrigan sat there, eyes glowing red under her hood, white hair draping past her collar in a disheveled mess from her recent exertion, and her scythe held diagonally across her lap. Roy’s eyes were drawn to the blade, shining with an ominous blue glow.
“Mr. Roy, your fate has been decided, and your time has come.” She gave a soft smile, figuring he didn’t deserve her making this any harder than it needed to be. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be sending you to the afterlife now.”