Page 14 of How to Survive Your Own Death

“A what?” She had never heard that word in her life. Her subconscious must have raided the dictionary when she was sleeping.

“A psychopomp. An entity—a spirit, angel, demon, or deity if you will—who escorts a soul on their journey.”

“Escort where?”

“That is not for me to know,” he said.

“So heaven and hell are real? Angels and demons. This is what you’re telling me?”

“That is not for me to know,” he repeated. “I do not judge. I simply help the soul release from this life.”

“You kill people.”

“They had an appointment with death. Most people move on without assistance. Some get stuck.” His eyes darkened, which was odd because he didn’t have eyes, just a pair of black pits in the skull. “Some souls have spoiled like milk left in the sun and are sent to the void.”

“And I died.”

“You did,” he said. “I gifted you with my life force to restore you to life, binding us together. Now I am unable to interact with this world. You will be my hands until my energy is restored and I can resume my duties.”

Geri had to sit down for this. “So I’m a reaper now?”

“Technically a revenant, but the details are irrelevant. Your function will very much be as a reaper.”

She sagged back against the sofa cushions. She had no idea what a revenant was or what that meant, but researching it on her phone felt like letting him win an argument. “No, I think the details are very important here. You claim I owe you a debt.”

“Correct.”

“I didn’t ask for this. You gave it to me willingly, making my continued existence a gift. I owe you nothing.” Carrying on a conversation with her hallucination couldn’t be healthy. Like that game Anh loved so much, Geri could feel her sanity points trickle away when confronted by a cosmic horror.

Sorry, anthropomorphic personification.

She’d have to stop before she crossed a point of no return and her brain turned into jello.

If it weren’t already.

“Death will continue. Souls will need to be released. You will perform this task.”

“Have another reaper cover while you’re out sick. I really don’t see what this has to do with me.”

His eyes darkened again. “That is not an option.”

Uh-huh. She knew a big stinking lie when she heard one. “And who decides which souls you take?”

“That is not for me to decide,” he answered, repeating his favorite phrase.

“But how do you know? Do you just randomly grab people, or does your Spidey sense tingle?”

“I receive messages.” He reached into his robe and pulled out a well-worn leatherbound book. “Names, dates, and locations. The rules. Guidance on conduct. All that is necessary for me to know is within these pages. You have one as well. Check your pocket.”

As he spoke, as if casting a spell, she felt a weight shift in her lounge pants pockets. She pulled out an older model smart phone. For a hallucination, it felt remarkably real. Like, she could believe that she held a real phone in her hands.

The screen lit with the message, “Welcome, Geraldine.”

Hell no.

Geri tossed the phone at the reaper. “And what do the rules say about reviving people without their consent?”

“Would you rather be dead?”