Don't Fear the Reaper

Don't Fear the Reaper: Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

                Nex knew that today had been one of – or probably the best day in all of his lifetimes. The impact of the second date was thus so intense.

He had loved it. Loved. Happy. Laughter.

He had never laughed before. Now that he had, it seemed like a drug, something he longed for, that would throw him in a state of utter ecstasy.

Moreover, that very thought terrified him.

Him! Terrified? Unheard of; impossible. He was one of the most important Reapers who existed. This whole thing had been a mistake. How would he ever look at another dead body, about to take a soul, without stopping to empathize?

Self-centered as they were, humans were as equally empathetic. It was complicated, hard to understand, and like a set of personal issues, perhaps meaningless.

Perhaps. However, if that complicated nature put forth days like these…well then yes, it was worth it.

                “Planning for a third date, Nex?”

Moonlight bathed the drawn out, deserted street. His shoes almost merged in with the colour of the tar, shoes which now stopped on their tracks.

All the feelings evaporated, and a stony, cold, ever so calm and straightforward darkness settled in his essence once more. 

Without turning to look at his addresser, he replied, “Azrael.”

“Do I even need to begin how highly ridiculous this whole thing is?” the man standing behind him, Azrael, spat out. The man was tall, with gleaming green eyes and a sharp, authoritative figure. He walked forward, with leather shoes darker than Nex’s, and stood in front of him.

“I am not responsible for you. Whether or not I want a third date, as you so dryly put it, is none of your business.” Nex held his chin up, and hands casually in his pockets as he spoke these words. Others were expected to tremble before Azrael, another Reaper, named after the angel of Death.

                Angel of Death? Nex scoffed to himself. There were no such thing as angels. If that were true, one would have come down and answer the million questions that invaded him, questions which were like an unwanted disease conquering him.

“Not responsible?” Azrael demanded in a low voice, “Were you aware, I reaped three souls that weren’t meant to die in this day alone?”

Nex refused to allow the chain of emotions to burst out and take over. At present, without them, he didn’t feel the panic.

“I will find a way,” he vowed, “I will find a way to fix it.”

Anger flashed in the other Reaper’s green eyes. “Fix it? Something that tampered with the natural order, the harmony of nature? There is only one way to fix it.”

Nex knew it too.

“There is no way I am killing her.”

“And there is no way,” Azrael began, in a mock imitation of his voice, “That we are asking you to. We can just as well do the deed.”

Fighting every form of unnecessary reaction as much as possible, Nex protested, “No. I was the one who was supposed to reap – and I made a mistake, a sole exception. You cannot take what’s meant to be my job.”

                “Says who? We were born this way, and thus we know. But, there is no one to stop us, Nex,” Azrael continued, tone of voice still even, “If I, or Samhain, or any one of the others decide to provide the girl the fate she was meant to face, what side effects could that have?”