“Sit,” he said.
Greg did.
Morrith didn't say anything for a long moment. He just looked at Greg with those ancient, tired eyes. Somehow it made Greg feel worse than screaming rage might have.
“I sent youseveralmessages,” Morrith said finally.
“I know.”
“You ignored all of them.”
“I was... I'm sorry.”
“You're sorry.” Morrith picked up his mug and looked into it like it might contain the will to keep going, then set it down again without drinking. “I vouchedfor you, Grigoreth. When they said you were too soft for fieldwork, I said give him a chance. When they laughed about your little notebook, I said he cares about the work. When they wanted to fail you out of the internship, I said this one's different.”
Greg's stomach twisted. “Sir?—”
“And now I have Oversight asking me questions.” Morrith's voice was flat. “And a rookie field reaper who's ignoring direct orders.”
“I was trying to understand what's happening.”
“Well, here's something you should understand.” Morrith pulled a file from his stack and flipped it open. It was Dustin's file. “When a mortal survives their scheduled death, the system recalculates. They get a new death date and a new collection window. It happens rarely, but it happens. Do you know why?”
Greg shook his head. This was the first he was hearing about this.
“Mortal life is chaos,” Morrith explained. “Sometimes the variables shift. Sometimes a truck is three seconds late. Sometimes a branch falls at the wrong angle. The system accounts for this. It adjusts.” Morrith turned a page. “It did for Sarah Meadows. She's already been reassigned. We won't have to concern ourselves with her for the next fifty years or so.”
Greg blew out a breath. Sarah would live. At least for a while longer.
That was good.
“But this one.” Morrith tapped Dustin's file. “This one doesn't recalculate. I've run it through the system four times. Every time, it comes back the same.” He looked up at Greg. “The status never changes fromPending.”
“What does that mean?”
“At this point, it means something is interfering.” Morrith's jaw tightened. “The system can't generate a new death date because something is preventing his death entirely. Not delaying it or postponing it.Preventingit.”
Greg's chest tightened. His mind went back to the moment he'd watched Dustin fall 800 feet. The moment he'd watched himsit upafter like it was nothing.
“Your target can see you,” Morrith continued. “Typically mortals only see us during their own collection or in moments of near-death when the veil thins. When their soul is already partially separated from their body.”
Greg's throat went dry. “You think his soul is separating from his body?”
“I think his soul knows what his body hasn't accepted yet. He should be dead, Grigoreth. By every metric we have, Dustin should have crossed over last week. But something is holding him in the mortal realm.” Morrith closed the file.
“What kind of something?” Greg asked carefully.
“That's what you're going to find out.”
Greg blinked. “Me?”
“You've spent more time observing this mortal than any reaper has spent observing a living human in centuries. You've watched him, talked to him…” Morrith's expression flickered—something almost like suspicion. “Eaten ice cream with him, apparently.”
Greg's face heated. “That was?—”
“I don't want to know.” Morrith held up a hand. “I'm already toeing the line on how much whiskey I can put in my coffee and still call it coffee. I need you to fix your mess. Something is interfering with the natural order, and it's connected to your assignment. Find out what.”
“How am Isupposed to do that?”
