While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die. - Leonardo da Vinci

  “Well, that was something, wasn’t it?” Gildebrak was lounging in one of the chairs in Orson’s office like I hadn’t just gone through the most elaborate and magical ceremony of my life.

  I gave her a sideways look, too tired to turn my head to fully look her way. I felt like years worth of experiences had happened in one night, and yet it had just been a few hours. And even less time when one considered the time dilation between my realm and the lands between.

  “That’s a mild way of putting it,” I replied

  While nothing I'd gone through with the initiation ritual had been painful, or even really all that scary, I found myself to be utterly exhausted. Like I've been stretched out too far like a rubber band that would never quite be able to return to my its original shape. At the same time, I was also incredibly excited. I had spent most of my life feeling powerless in the world; detached, even. Like I was one step to the left of everyone else and had no idea how to course correct.

  But this Reaper thing? It felt right. Sure, it also felt terrifying and confusing, but very much right. For the first time in my life, I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

  “Congratulations,” the Lord of the Dead said as he stepped through the doors of his office. After the ceremony, he’d told Gildebrak and I to head back there and he would meet up with us. We hadn’t been waiting long, but I was grateful for the reprieve to catch my breath at least a little. But even with that ten or so minutes of contemplation and unwinding, I could tell that I was edging closer and closer to overwhelmed. And probably over stimulated too. I needed maybe a year long nap and a full body massage and maybe a couple months with both a therapist and mythology crash course. “I know your integration into our ranks hasn’t exactly been typical, but I applaud your willingness to go along with it.”

  “Well, ya know, finding a dying Reaper in an alley who then crumbled to dust in my arms and then being attacked by malicious spirits a couple of times goes a long way in convincing someone that there’s a whole hidden spirit corps running around,” I joked. “Might have been a bit of a harder sell if the gods already hadn’t revealed themselves.”

  “Yes, that did let the cat out of the bag on a lot of things, didn’t it?” Orson mused as he came around the desk and sat in front of us. He looked older again, his hair almost white and the lines in his face much deeper than they had been before. Fascinating. Did it change based on his mood? How late in the day it was? More questions to ask. I was going to need to start a list on my phone or something.

  “I know you need some rest, Bridges, but I wanted to brief you on the mission I’m sending the both of you on.”

  Gildebrak sat up straight at that, no longer just casually lounging. “As cool as that would be, isn’t that a bit much for her right off the bat? She doesn’t even know how to travel between realms on her own yet. Wouldn’t it be prudent to show her the ropes, as it were.” She belatedly gave me an apologetic look. “No offense.”

  “None taken, I feel like I don’t know jack diddly.”

  “I realize this is unorthodox, but I want you on this Gildebrak,” Orson insisted. “And from what I can tell, this situation might require someone who’s far more familiar with the human realm without Reaper influences coloring her perspective.”

  “That’s me, right?” I asked, trying to sound chipper but I was growing more and more exhausted by the minute.

  “It is. As I’m sure has been explained to you, most Reapers have interactions with the dead early in life, some as soon as they’re born. As you can imagine, that colors their perspectives on many things. So, having someone like that in Gildebrak, and a clean slate so to speak with you, should help provide clarity. Cover all the bases, so to speak.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Alright then,” Gildebrak said, settling into her casual position again. “So, what are we dealing with?”

  “Multiple spirit sightings around a morgue in Bridge’s city. I want the two of you to investigate it.”

  “Wait, a morgue?” Gildebrak questioned. “I thought you said this was important? Why do you need us to check out why spirits would be hanging around a place that’s natural transition spot?”

  “Time out,” I cut in. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Newbie, remember?”

  “As I’ve explained,” Gildebrak said, “the dead don’t always transition to the afterlife immediately. But they don’t always get lost or violent either. Sometimes just being at their memorial or funeral allows them to say their goodbyes, get closure, and move on. So yes, normally seeing a couple of spirits around a morgue isn’t exactly a huge deal.

  “If that morgue is attached to a funeral home,” Orson cut in. “The issue, is this one is in a hospital.”

  “Wait, a hospital!?” Gildebrak turned to the Lord of the Dead, and once again I felt like I was a step behind because I didn’t know why that was so alarming.

  “What does that matter?” I asked as patiently as I could. Although I understood everything to do with Reapers was complicated, it seemed that Orson and Gildebrak often forgot, expecting me to just know some things that I couldn’t possibly know.

  “Morgues attached to funeral homes are natural transition spots, as I just explained, but it’s the funeral home part. Hospitals are as well. But morgues, themselves? Not so much. Spirits don’t like to see their bodies butchered, or closed away in cold, dark cells. In fact, if a body is taken to the morgue too quickly, that can often causes a spirit to get lost, as it doesn’t have enough time to transition to the afterlife where it died.”

  “Oooooh, so morgues are essentially a spirit free zone?”

  “Most of the time,” Gildebrak said. “Until someone messes with something.”

  “Messes with how?”

  “Oh, it varies but usually it’s stealing body parts, or a morgue employee being… inappropriate with bodies.”

  “What do you mean inappro—” I cut myself off. “Oh. Ew.”

  But Gildebrak just shrugged, and I got the feeling that she was a bit jaded on certain things. “There’s a reason most funeral homes prefer to hire female morticians. But anyway, if there are multiple spirit sightings around a hospital morgue, it usually means something hokey is going on.”

  “And… that’s our responsibility? If there’s a human doing it, are we supposed to stop them?”

  “Of course,” Gildebrak said like it was obvious.

  “What’s of course about it?” I retorted. “I thought as guides of the dead we only really did things with the dead. I assumed there was some rule about not interfering with human affairs.”

  “That’s insightful of you because there generally are,” Orson said, an unreadable look on his face. Or maybe that was because he was shifting from the kindly old man face to the stern Lord of the Dead face. Man, his selfies all had to look so different. Not that the Lord of the Dead had much time for selfies. And for that matter, which carrier would have cell phone coverage in the Dead Offices?

  Verizon, if I had to guess. Or maybe they had their own godly carrier, like Hermes Mobile or Iris Cellular Service? I could practically see the commercial in my head already.

  “Is something amusing you?” the Lord of the Dead asked mildly, and I shook my head, yanking myself out of the prolonged, too detailed fantasy.

  “No, just thinking. You were saying?”

  “What I was saying was that generally we do not interfere with the living. We do not prevent disasters or stop violence if it’s of the natural order. But when humans interfere with that very order, when they pervert fate, or life, or the cycle of the dead, that’s where we step in.”

  “I see,” I murmured, yet again putting more pieces together in my head. “And you guys think there’s a person like that in this morgue?”

  “I do not know, but it is our responsibility to check.”

  I nodded along, still mentally writing down more questions. “I understand.”

  “Good.” He looked to Gildebrak. “I want you to let her sleep however long she needs at your place. It will take her too long to fully recover her energy if she returns to her realm now.

  “Once she’s rested, I want you to gear her up and head to the hospital tomorrow. Investigate as subtly as you can. If someone is aware of how to trap spirits, they might have ways to hurt a Reaper.”

  “Noted!” Gildebrak said, already hopping to her feet. “Your newest, and yet also greatest team is on the case! We’ll get this tied up with a bow faster than a gift wrapper at Gimbels at Christmas.”

  I shook my head. How does she even know what Gimbels is?

  Orson was either used to her sayings or simply didn’t care as long as she—we, now—delivered results.

  “Good. I’m looking forward to hearing your report.”

  “Roger, roger!”

  Once more, Gildebrak held her hand out for me to take. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was from another era, or if she was just a naturally touchy-feely person, but she certainly wasn’t shy about the physical contact, was she?

  “Come on, you can crash on my couch like we’re back in college.”

  “I never went to college,” I answered.

  But I was surprised yet again when Gildebrak grinned at me. “Neither did I, so it should be extra fun to pretend. Later Orson!”

  “Be careful, both of you. Hopefully this will be nothing.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, but something in my gut told me it would most definitely be something. “Hopefully.”