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Gods be damned and take my soul

Let me pay that mortal toll

I submit complete control if you’ll be mine

Inside the front room were a desk and a computer at which sat a woman in her early thirties with a voluptuous frame and dark hair streaked with pale blond. She was dressed as if, upon learning the concept of a statement piece, she had declared, “I have more than one thing to say!” Her wrists were covered in a variety of bright bangles, her neck adorned with beads, her pants one bright pattern and her shirt another, and yet somehow all together it made sense.

“They’re playing him a lot these days,” Saga remarked on the music as she stepped inside. “Possibly more than when he was alive.”

The woman smiled and stood. “Bit fitting for October, innit? Listening to the voices of those who’ve gone? Would you be Avery Hemlock, then?” She spoke cheerfully with the slight cockney accent typical of North Londoners.

Saga gestured to Avery with her thumb. “She is.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.” The woman pointed genially at Saga. “You don’t look like the bastard child of the Erlking, do you?” Her attention shifted to Avery. “Blimey, you do though! Spittin’ image, it’s creepy. Does that make Lord Blackthorn your brother, then?”

“You have a brother?” Saga turned to Avery.

“Regrettably,” said Avery under her breath.

The woman chatted on, not needing any contribution to carry the conversation. “Right handsome he is, though a bit severe if you ask me.”

Avery cleared her throat. “You would be the medical examiner?”

The woman took Avery’s hand and shook it with both of hers. “Call me Merrill.” Her attention shifted back to Saga. “Oh! You’re Saga Trygg, aren’t you?”

That was certainly unexpected. “Have we met?”

“Well, sort of,” said Merrill. “I knew your gran. In passing, anyway. Her passing.” She flinched. “Sorry, that sounds morbid. I’m a psychopomp. I ferry souls through the veil to the Twilight. I ferried her soul, you see, so I was there that day.”

Saga could feel her mouth hanging open but she was not sure what to say or if she even knew how to close it.

“I mean, you would have seen me as a crow if you saw me at all—which you probably didn’t, as you were quite preoccupied, I imagine.” Merrill patted Saga’s hands gently. “They do keep telling me I need to work on my graveside manner with the bereaved. So sorry. Lovely woman, your gran.”

“She was…” Saga felt dazed as she tried to catch up. Psychopomp. She knew the word. Vaguely. “Sorry, you’re a kind of grim reaper, then?

“Never been grim a day in my life, babes!” Merrill cackled. It was loud and joyous and without restraint. She finally released Saga’s hand so she could wipe at her eyes delicately with her fingers. “Never understood that term. Reaper? Like we’re just harvesting and keeping all those souls to ourselves. Nah!”

“Did you ferry this soul through?” Avery attempted to get the speeding train of thought back on the tracks they needed to be on.

“No. I’m not the only guide in London.” As an aside to Saga, she added, “I do think I may be the only one in London who is also a medical examiner, though. I’ve got a brother, mortician. Course he’s based out of Shropshire now. Likes the quiet.”

“Would you know who did ferry her through?” Saga chimed in, seeing it might take the both of them to keep this woman on track. “Would they be able to tell us how she died?”

“Oh, no, I’m afraid not,” said Merrill cheerily. “Even if it was me who’d done it. Souls are more…an essence of a person than able to communicate specifically. That would be handy though, wouldn’t it? Be like them In-Spectre Books, right?” She must have realized she was getting off topic again. “If they hold their physical shape, it’s usually because something is tying them to the corporeal plane. You get me?”

Avery nodded. “If you can’t tell us about her soul, can you tell us about her body?”

“I can tell you when the soul left the body. Roughly sometime between 21:30–21:40.”

“Ten minutes?” Saga asked bewildered. “How could you possibly have it that narrowed down? Even if you were completely confident in liver temperature decrease, that window should at least extend two hours, not ten minutes.”

“Listen to you citing algor mortis. Are you in the medical field too then?” Merrill beamed. “Your gran must’ve been right proud.”

“Um,” Saga faltered.

“And you would be right, but I have a little bit of an advantage over that particular science,” bragged the psychopomp. “Natural talent, you see, we can feel when a soul abandoned its vessel. Which, admittedly, would not be the same as time of death in certain situations, but as you will see in Ms. Ravenwood’s case, the body and soul were pretty knit in regard to the body dying and the soul leaving.”

“Could we see the body, then?” asked Avery.