“Have you been annoying Love about this?”
I tighten my lips and Death laughs. I punch his shoulder, and he winces but laughs again.
“She told you to stop annoying her or she wouldn’t set you up with any cupids, didn’t she?”
“Maybe…”
He grins, thinking about his girlfriend, and I want to punch him in the face this time. But I can’t blame him, and as jealous as I may be, I am happy for him and Love. They’re perfect for each other, but sue me for also wanting my perfect person.
“Do you know who it is?” I ask, and Death shakes his head.
“No, Love calls it Operation Lady Luck.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Who knows. I don’t question Love when it comes to these things either. I suggest you leave her to it. She might be small, but she can be petty when she wants to be.”
“I just don’t understand why she’s not ready. How much more time does she need?”
“Well, you can ask Love later, or you can keep your loud mouth shut and wait like a good little reaper.”
I glare at him, and he winks.
“I think I liked you better when you were depressed.”
“And I think I liked you better when you weren’t so desperate.”
I give him the middle finger which he graciously returns.
We both get back to work, and I come across a trembling soul who is clearly afraid of their fate.
With the other reapers, I can be my true self. There’s no judgment.
But with the souls? The souls get a side of me I don’t let the others see. It’s easier to be blunt and rude than it is to be compassionate and soothing. I’m capable of both, but it’s easier to keep this side when it comes to work.
Plus, I take my job very seriously. I don’t just ferry souls with no conscience about it, I always want to make sure that they make it to their afterlife happy and safe. Well, assuming they are going to either the good place or the veil.
“Veronica, don’t be afraid,” I tell her softly.
She looks at my face. There’s some fear, but she blinks a few times as she truly looks at me. Reapers are beautiful for this reason. It’s far easier to trust pretty people than some gnarled skeleton or ghastly creature.
“I’m dead?”
“Yes, I’m here to take you to your final resting place.”
“But my family.” The soul can’t shed physical tears, but her face crinkles up like she wants to.
“You will be separated from them on this plane, that’s true. But you’ll be together again, and you’ll always be with them. You’re never gone for good, just gone for now,” I promise her.
She’s giving me some resistance, which isn’t surprising. When a death is accidental, there’s usually more coaxing that comes along with getting them to cross over.
“Will it hurt?”
“You’ll never feel pain again,” I promise her.
She nods as I ferry her soul to the afterlife.
While mortals use the terms Heaven and Hell, they aren’t that far off. There’s a good place, a bad place, and a place in between. The good place is where everyone hopes to end up, and it’s decided by how you treat others and how you live your life, nothing else.
