- •Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross Prologue
- •1: The Day the Sky Fell
- •2: Things Broken
- •3: Stalked
- •4: Someone to Watch Over
- •5: The Bleecker Street Café
- •6: The Reaper’s Field Guide
- •7: Training Day
- •8: Explanations
- •9: Organizing the Organization
- •10: The Queen That Never Was
- •11: Bobby Hooper
- •12: Moving On
- •13: A Wish to Forget
- •14: For the Love of Dillon
- •15: Seamus Flannery
- •16: Dealings
- •17: Assigned with Seamus
- •18: Reaping the Chupacabras
- •19: Decisions
- •20: Mama Dee
- •21: Belinda Yaris
- •22: Seamus on Fire
- •23: The Reaper’s Apprentice
- •24: Mr. Blackwick’s Discoveries
- •25: Edmund j. Polly
- •26: The Confabulating Irishman
- •27: Brigit’s Side
- •28: Fascination
- •29: Mama Dee, Part II
- •30: Maggie
- •31: The Ire of Mr. Flannery
- •32: The Heaviness of it All
- •33: The Break
- •34: Back in the Swing
- •35: Hearing Matilda Sing
- •36: The State of Reapers, Inc.
Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross Prologue
Where it Ended, Where it Began
He entered the café quietly and scanned the room. The usual inhabitants were there: doing the same things they would do until they decided it was time to go. Some of them were relatively new to the scene while others had haunted the joint since its demise in arson back in 1939. His ice blue gaze met the jovial eyes of Giuseppe Cincotta, the unfortunate soul that had also met his demise in the arson. Giuseppe nodded and turned to begin preparing his regular patron’s customary cup of tea.
Slowly, John Blackwick’s gaze moved to the left and came to rest on the reason he had arrived so early in the afternoon. ‘The Old Man’, as John called him affectionately, was waiting patiently – his own gaze deep into the glass of red wine before him. Silently, John approached him and slid onto the stool beside his mentor.
“You called for me, Araxius?” John asked as Giuseppe slid the cup of steaming tea before him. John nodded his thanks before picking it up and blowing gently across the surface.
“I did, John. Thank you for making haste,” Araxius replied solemnly. John sipped from his tea while waiting for an explanation. Araxius would take his time with it and the lack of expression on his sunken features did not surprise John at all. Over the last fifty years, he had become overly accustomed to the fact that Araxius – one of the founding members of the firm – lacked any sense of emotion or expression. After all, Araxius was one of the original Grim Reapers. He had a reputation to uphold.
“The time has come, John,” Araxius sighed as he circled the rim of his wineglass with an extremely long and boney forefinger. The Grim Reaper’s eyes remained sunken into the depths of the red wine he had loved so dearly as a mortal man so very long ago.
“Time for what? Am I being fired?” John asked evenly. He had learned, since joining the firm, to control his emotions as well as Araxius could; but the occasional urge to wittiness could still rise up in him.
“No, not at all,” Araxius countered. “In fact, I would consider it a promotion of sorts.” A slight smile tugged at the corners of the old man’s mouth, but was not allowed full exposure.
“Oh?” John swiveled on his stool to face his mentor. This was a surprise indeed.
“I’m retiring, John. I’ve had enough. I no longer wish to reap souls. I’m turning the reins of the firm over to you.”
For the first time in fifty years, John Blackwick felt a sudden surge of panic within his gut. Although he was sure the expression was not visible on his face, he was sure he must have paled even more than his normal complexion. A slight icy smile finally surfaced on Araxius’ thin lips.
“We’ve all decided to retire,” The Grim Reaper added. “Everything is yours.” Araxius finally turned his head and leveled his icy gaze on his companion as if to further the gravity of the situation.
“Why me? Wait, what do you mean by “all” of you?” John swallowed hard as his thoughts began to give in to the panic rising fast from his gut.
“You’re the last to know because someone must continue on with the work, and someone must open the door for me. The other continental offices have already closed their doors. All the files have been relocated here for you to complete. I dare say I do apologize for such a late notice to your rise in rank; but it has been a decision we’ve all been considering for quite some time,” Araxius explained.
“What about the field agents? Are none of them more qualified than I am to carry on the firm’s work? And what about the Bailey? Has he retired as well?” John could feel his palms beginning to sweat; but he knew that was merely a phantom sensation. The dead didn’t sweat. That had been a fact to him since day one.
“They’ve all gone, John. They were given their options this morning. The Bailey, I’m afraid to admit, is unreachable – off on one of his little sojourns, I suspect. It will be up to you to find him and give him his options.”
“Oh, I see,” John managed to say as the reality of the moment sank in on his mind like a cement block dropped from the top of a skyscraper. John watched Araxius slowly pick up his wineglass. He lifted it in a silent salute to Giuseppe before downing the contents in one long swallow. The Old Man sighed in deep and final satisfaction as he set the glass back to the counter and stood from his seat. John watched his mentor reach inside his black robe and withdraw a familiar long black folder. It was Araxius’ own file.
“You’re leaving now?” John asked as Araxius extended the folder out to him.
“This is my file, John,” Araxius said quietly – ignoring his apprentice’s question. “I’m ready to face my fate,” he announced. A genuine smile finally came to his face as he stared at the dark haired man before him. Araxius could see the shock (or was it fear?) on the young man’s face as he stared at the black folder being held out to him.
Slowly, John managed to raise his hand and take the folder from Araxius. In silence, he opened it and read the contents as he stood. From the corner of his eye, John saw the door appear to his left. Araxius turned to face the door, taking a deep breath in anticipation. It was to the left of the Reaper who stood before him. Better than he had hoped for after all this time. Perhaps there was some redemption to be found between the crossings after all….
John grasped the handle of the door in his hand and gently pulled it open before looking his mentor fully in the eye.
“Araxius Herodotus, may you find eternal peace,” he cited with a solemn gentleness that suggested he cared for the soul about to cross the threshold. Araxius lay a boney hand on John’s shoulder. It was the last rite before passing. John had learned it beautifully.
“Well said, my boy. Good luck and thank you.”
John Blackwick could only nod his reply before Araxius stepped through the door to accept his final judgment. Softly, John pushed the door shut and stared blankly at the floor as he tucked the now blank folder of Araxius Herodotus, former Grim Reaper and original founding member of Reapers, Inc., deep into the inner pocket of his black suit coat. A new era of reaping was about to begin. John Blackwick suddenly had no idea where to start.