I’d regretted it ever since, though. Could you imagine being me when ordering coffee? They almost always spelled my first name wrong. But then, when I said my last name was Reaper, which I rarely did anymore, the barista would give me a look as if I were joking. I wasn’t. I never joked. I was a serious guy now. Three hundred years of living would take the humor out of a person. Didn’t believe me? You try living through wars and famine, bringing death to millions of people, and, not to mention, the social media craze, which sucked the joy out of just about everything, and see if you could still be funny.
I stopped rescuing men with stellar asses a long time ago, too. That was a one-and-done deal, though I was still a littlesad it hadn’t happened again. But being a ferryman was serious business—no more peeping at men’s backsides for me.
Don’t get me wrong. I still loved men and their asses. My love for them only grew after the first time I’d been inside one. Not that it’d happened lately or at all in the past six months. Not since the promotion opportunity popped up. I’d been focusing on my work. Of course, HR hadn’t announced it yet. The Soul Management Bureau didn’t do anything in a hurry. Taking the time and care to make the right decisions might be old-fashioned, but that was how it was in the Bureau.
Instant gratification was a recent trend among people, at least among those in Sector Seven, the sector the Bureau had promoted me to when a civil war broke out in the States. It had been a lot of work back then. There had been no time for backsides for me during the war. Getting used to dry spells wasn’t something I preferred, but I took my job seriously. Probably more than most of my co-workers.
I could go off on a tangent about their lack of professionalism. The rest of the reapers didn’t take their work as seriously as one would expect, given that they ushered people into the afterlife. They’d made plenty of mistakes to prove it.
I was the only one in the boardroom. Even the boss wasn’t there yet. I had it on good authority that today would be the day Morgana announced the reaper position. Sector Two was the most desirable because it was located in the Caribbean. The pay was average, but I’d made enough money early in my career to set me up for a while. I wasn’t ready to retire, but Sector Two came closest to what I would like to retire to. It had never had an open position for as long as I’d been a reaper. While I wasn’t the only one who would want the position, I’d had a perfect record for almost a hundred and fifty years. I hoped that alone would make me the top candidate for the job.
Ossy was the first to arrive after me. He wore the standard fieldwork uniform, his hood down. His long blond hair contrasted with the black cloak.
I rolled my eyes at his appearance.
“Don’t say anything, man.”
“I wasn’t going to.” But the words burned in my throat, driven by the urge to reprimand him. “Don’t you own a suit?”
Ossy plopped into the chair across the table. “No, Mr. Perfect, I don’t. I own board shorts and beach towels. Besides, I just came from a delivery. I thought I was going to be late.”
“You’ve made it before everyone else.” Ossy might love the beach more than just about anything, including his job, but he had a thing about being late. He couldn’t stand the very thought. “You still could have dressed appropriately.”
“I’d say I am, considering the Bureau’s purpose.” Ossy snatched a donut from one of the three boxes someone had placed in the center of the table. There was a stack of napkins beside each box. Ossy didn’t bother with a napkin. The decision came back to haunt him as soon as he took a bite. A big glob of thick red jelly spilled down his cloak. “Shit.”
A small flame appeared on the table in front of Ossy. A piece of paper caught fire, sizzling at the edges as it formed. The word demerit appeared in bold red letters, flashing across the entire sheet of paper.
Ossy cursed, but it was under his breath. It was unlikely anyone in HR had heard it. “That’s the second one this week.”
I stood and grabbed the napkins, handing him a stack. “If you need an extra cloak, I have one in my car. I also have a shirt and jeans if you’d prefer them.”
Ossy wiped up the spot, cursing when the napkins didn’t get all the mess. “Do I have time to change?”
“I’ll stall Morgana.” I threw my keys at him. “I’m parked on the second level. You know my car, right?”
“Is it the same sensible sedan that makes you look like an uptight workaholic?” Ossy smirked.
“That would be the one.” I was a workaholic, though I’d like to think I wasn’t an uptight one. I always, only ever, bought a black or gray car. I liked consistency. Besides, black was easier to clean. Okay, maybe the uptight part was partially true.
Ossy headed for the door. “Thanks, Grym.”
It didn’t take long for the others to file into the room. Tan and Ordell arrived first.
“I don’t have time for this meeting. I’m drowning in paperwork, and I’ll be in the office all night,” Tan complained.
“Perhaps you should do the paperwork at the end of each day.” I made sure to file all my reports when I came in from the field. “Don’t let the reports stack up.”
Tan flipped me off. “Figures you’d be here early.”
“That’s inappropriate behavior for the workplace.” As soon as the words left my mouth, a demerit burned into existence on the table.
I winced. The last thing I wanted was to get anyone in trouble with HR. They could be a nightmare sometimes. And that was twice before the meeting even started.
Tan shook his head. He took the paper and held it up as if there were cameras in the room. The Soul Management Bureau didn’t need something as mechanical as a camera to keep track of its employees. They had magic. The demons in HR loved to use it to prove a point.
Cael sat next to me. “Got any inside knowledge on why the boss called the meeting?”
Grymley just smiled. “I’m sure Morgana will let us know as soon as she arrives.”
