Grim and Bear It

Rule #13: Reapers are to stay in inhabited areas of the city unless otherwise indicated by a formal work order.

- The Reaper Code of Ethics, official handbook. Poppy

The Isle of Grim, our little slice of afterlife, looked like a coastal fishing town in Maine, only with all the color leached out. It wasn't so much that everything was all one color, more so that everything was muted. Except for our cloaks. The switch to purple cloaks was recent, in the last few decades. While the black cloak was iconic, test audiences responded better to the color purple. Since the switch, there had been a thirteen percent decrease in souls trying to escape the afterlife. With how many ghosts were currently occupying Earth, it was a marked improvement.

It was rare to see a reaper in human form and without their cloak, but I didn't bother worrying about either tonight as I walked to the industrial side of the island. Away from the residences and boat docks, the milliners who made the cloaks, the city council, a general store that carried home goods imported from the human world, and a library clustered to make a small downtown area. Nearby, a boat and fishing rental hut sat waiting for the morning shift to wrap up. Reapers could rent a speedboat and go waterskiing or a rowboat for fishing.

Not that there were many fish here. Mostly mermaids and some soul suckers you didn't want to lose a fight with. Still, every day there were at least a dozen older reapers sitting on the water, poles cast, reclining in their boats. Behind the rental place, there was a small path carved through ancient trees. The leaves were limp, and there was no breeze to make them rustle. The moment I crossed over into the forest, I felt absolutely secluded. My shoulders relaxed and my jaw unclenched. Peace.

It was only about a half mile, but this part of the island jutted off and narrowed down to a small, wooden boat dock. In the last twelve years, this dock had only been used as a loading station for reapers who were permanently retired, which was a nice way of saying removed from existence. The water around the wooden posts shimmered, a clear indication of where the protective spell ended and the open water began.

If I squinted hard enough, I could see a lighthouse through the fog that had long since lost its glow. The small island just out of view was where reapers who disobeyed the reaper code and caused grievous harm were sent until their permanent demise. Without protection against any of the afterlife creatures, rumor had it the average banishment only lasted a few years.

I didn't know anyone who had been banished, but my grandmother said her dear cousin had been. She hadn't shared the details of her cousin's case but admitted that she wished she could send a message, letting her know she wasn't forgotten. Her words had stuck with me.

Whenever I couldn't rest, when my head was spinning or if my heart was in need of mending, I came to this little wooden boat dock, sat down on the edge, and started playing. I didn't know if anyone could hear me across the water, but I hoped so. If they heard it, maybe they'd know someone was thinking of them. It wasn't that I thought people who did bad things shouldn't be reprimanded. The reaper code was in place for a reason to protect both us and the human world. I didn't play for my great-great-uncle, who had sold souls to demons in exchange for alcohol, and besides he was probably long dead. I played for the reapers who'd made a serious mistake on a bad day and had no chance to rectify it. And trust me, we all had bad days.

Pandemics, wars, terrorist attacks, hate crimes could all happen without warning. Sometimes even with warning, we could barely keep up. No reaper had a perfect track record. Souls ran away sometimes, choosing to stay on Earth where it was familiar. But reapers had a three-soul limit. Lose more than that, and you were evaluated by city council. They could choose to retrain a reaper, reassign them, or banish them.

Outside of the soul today-which would likely be expunged from our records since it happened prior to our shift-I'd only ever lost one soul on my first day. I hadn't followed the code, pouted and shouted and refused to participate. It had cost a stranger their afterlife. That was the last time, outside of visiting Jake and Eliza, that I had ever broken a serious rule.

For a long time after I'd lost that soul, I felt like I deserved to be punished. Maybe I still felt that way. Maybe that's why I played to an island that no one ever thought about.

I started off with an upbeat polka, then moved into a more somber sonata. I didn't pause between songs, letting one morph into the other, swaying with the music. The fairy lights danced over the water, carving a path through the fog and toward the lighthouse. It gave me hope that the notes reached their destination, too.

There was no sunrise or sunset here, making it impossible to tell the time by looking at the sky. I didn't know how long I sat there, trying to channel my feelings about seeing Jake into dissonant chords and long strokes of my bow, until a small tug at my chest warned me I needed to get ready for my next shift.

With one final song, a blues tune, I let the last note echo and the final fairy lights blink out. I would need to restring my bow with more wings soon, but it had absolutely been worth it. When I stood to go, the water in front of the dock moved with the force of something underneath. A large shadow swam away. If nothing else, at least whatever that was had enjoyed the show.

Each step leaving the forest was harder to make. I needed more time to recuperate. Sure, I didn't get physically fatigued on account of being dead, but I was emotionally fatigued. I longed to cry when I got back to my room and slipped back on my cloak.

Sylvia stuck her head in my door. "You ready?"

I plastered on a fake smile. "Always."

"Then let's go collect some souls."

I trudged behind my sister as I followed her to the docks, greeting and waving at the appropriate times when I crossed paths with my dads, my older brother, my cousin, and my grandparents. I was so tired of being motion sick, and I sent up a quick prayer to whatever was listening that they make this trip an easy one. My prayers were not answered.

As I dry heaved into yet another empty bag, Sylvia gripped my shoulder. "I think maybe I'll take this first group back by myself. I can only listen to you yak so many times in a row before I want to carve my own ears off and I don't even have ears anymore."

A small thrill of excitement laced with dread shot through me. If she took the first group back herself, that would leave me with a little extra break time. Alone.

I knew I shouldn't go visit him. I knew I needed to leave well enough alone. But I had to know if Jake could still see me. I mean, yesterday could've been a fluke, right? It would be irresponsible for me not to check. Before another wave of nausea washed over me, I gave my sister a thumbs-up.