Nikai remembered a time when death notes were actual pieces of paper the size of poker cards. He was new and wide-eyed then, eager to do his job right, just like this Reaper beside him. But as the centuries went by, simultaneously slower and faster than expected, the work became grimmer and grimmer.
Probably why we’re called grim reapers, Nikai thought wryly. He hated the wordreaper. It sounded like they were harvesting the living, waiting until they were ripe before hacking away at their lives. In truth, a Reaper’s job was to guide souls into the afterlife, where they would reside in one of the Ten Courts of Hell until their individual cycle of reincarnation was up.
Ushering.That was a better term. Nikai was an usher, not a reaper. Ushering made more sense. Ushering was kinder. Although tonight, ushering was downright bleak.
Of the fifteen souls that needed to be collected tonight, six were children.
Adult souls were a pain. Filled with feelings of regret and rage and sorrow, they argued and pleaded and cried and screamed. Because of this, most Reapers preferred collecting the souls of children. But Nikai would rather take the souls of a hundred adults over a child’s any day.
A flicker in his peripheral view drew his attention.
A young man with silvery-white hair had appeared from nowhere.
The new Reaper fumbled her stylus. “Y-Your Majesty,” she said, lowering her head.
Nikai assumed she hadn’t seen any of the Kings this close before. He hadn’t expected the Fourth King to drop by either. The Kings had better things to do than carry out the menial labor of collecting the souls of the dead. Instinctively, Nikai straightened his tie. Four was all about making a good impression; thankfully, Nikai had worn his sharpest all-black Head Reaper suit tonight.
“Greetings, Four,” he said, smiling at his boss.
The new Reaper’s eyes darted between them, no doubt surprised to see King and Reaper on such informal terms.
Nikai’s chest swelled with pride. A hierarchy would always divide them, but Four saw him as a friend, and that was enough. Four had found him, a lost soul destined to wander in limbo for eternity with no chance for redemption or reincarnation. He’d given Nikai a purpose. Ahome.Four was his friend. His family.
Four nodded back absently. He was staring hard at the wreckage in front of them. A mysterious crease had notched itself between his dark brows, too faint for a passing observer to detect, but Nikai knew his friend well. Four was troubled, and he seemed to be waiting for something—or someone. But who else could be coming here?
There was another flicker, and the King of the First Court appeared.
One’s stiletto heels clicked sharply on the tarmac, the sound echoing in Nikai’s ears even as sirens pierced the night. The patent fuchsia of One’s shoes matched their bright pink lips, both pops of color vibrant against an emerald pantsuit that accentuated their curves and edges. A single jewel shaped like a dewdrop hung around their neck, catching Nikai’s eye as it flashed an impossible spectrum of colors. Their pixie haircut was ironic; One was hardly a delicate fairy.
Nikai’s peacock-blue hair flopped down as he bowed low to the First King. Next to him, the new Reaper’s breaths grew short. Meeting two Kings in one night—no wonder she looked like she was about to pass out. Already the air around them felt heavier, darker somehow, as if someone had thrown a blanket over a lamp. Nikai knew it was the two Kings’spiritual pressure that was making it so.
The new Reaper squeaked, “Your Majesty.”
“Good evening to you both.” One’s smile was so radiant Nikai had to blink away.
His cheeks were burning. He was never able to meet One’s eyes directly, always blushing involuntarily as he did now. They were, after all, thefirstof the Kings. They were beautiful. Intimidating, sure. Possibly even frightening. But beautiful nonetheless.
Four seemed unsurprised by One’s arrival. Was this who he was expecting? But instead of speaking to him, One walked over to a blue taxi in the middle of the pileup and lowered themself to peer into the shattered windows.
Nikai’s thoughts of an easy evening and delicious dinner were slipping away. The Kings of Hell never showed up for soul collections. Four’s arrival had interrupted the Reapers’ work, but at least it was the Fourth Court’s Reapers who were on the scene, and hewastheir King. But for One to stop by as well? It made no sense. And with two Kings present, all Reapers were standing at attention instead of doing their jobs. Time was ticking; the Blight could strike at any moment.
But One was still scrutinizing the taxi with narrowed eyes.
Curious, Nikai turned his attention there. The driver was alive, but Nikai sensed the gradual severance of a soul from another mortal in there. The passenger was about to die.
But there was something else.
Another heartbeat. Another flutter of spiritual energy inside.
The new Reaper sensed it, too. “A baby,” she whispered.
That heartbeat was slowing as the feathery soul struggled inside its mortal body. But even as its tether was weakening, Nikai could feel there was something different about that soul.
He was about to go closer when One gestured to Four. “A word, Brother,” they said, and walked to the side of the highway.
Four nodded at his Reapers. “Carry on with your work.” The Fourth Court Reapers inclined their heads briefly and went back to their duties. “Come with me,” he told Nikai, who followed obediently to where One was waiting.
One threw a questioning glance at him.
