THE ALBINO CROW PERCHED on Death’s chair cawed just as he signed the last Death Certificate from the latest batch. The nib he used slid too far on the page, creating a longer tail than usual on his signature. He clucked his tongue at the skewed squiggle, regretting his lack of control over his own actions and figuring out how to muzzle his pet. The beak presented a containment challenge. This contemplation led him to believe he’d been signing Certificates for the better part of a few hours, nonstop. Talk about needing a break. His gaze shot up.
“Something I can do for you, Tomas? As you can see, I’m busy.”
The Reaper of California had emerged from wherever he’d been and bobbed his chin, his concern beaded across his brow. “Master, there’s been a development.”
Death set aside his work and picked up a crystal sphere, which contained a fluttering butterfly with acid pink wings. He squeezed the orb like a stress ball. “Proceed.”
“It seems the connection Niko has built with the mortal Arianne Wilson has crumbled. They no longer seem to be in contact.”
“Do you believe his attitude at the meeting has something to do with their relationship problems?”
“He’s a teen. It is this time in anyone’s life where relationships are often fleeting and tumultuous. I believe he will recover. As do most boys his age. The fact that he’d shown signs of attraction towards another is truly promising.”
Death reflected on the wisdom of Tomas’s words, tongue in cheek. “Continue to…” He paused mid-sentence and brought his fingertips to his temples. The lines on his face dug in. A painful ping resounded behind his eyes.
“Master?” Tomas materialized at Death’s side.
Blankness erased all other expressions. “A Certificate has been defied,” Death said.
Janika landed in the room from a portal she’d created on the ceiling, narrowly missing the chandelier. A layer of dust rippled upon her making contact with the rug composed of actual Persian flesh. She took a knee, resting her arm over it and bowed her head. “Master, Nikolas has defied your will. He has failed to enforce a Certificate,” she said.
Death studied Tomas. “How could you not know of this?”
“It must have just happened, Master.” Tomas thumbed his chin. “I’m sure Nikolas must have a reason.”
“Regardless,” Janika interjected. “Our solemn duty is to enforce Certificates.” She lifted her head. “Master, allow me to be the enforcer for this case.”
“You seem too eager, Janika,” Tomas chided.
“If my willingness to serve can be seen as eagerness, then so be it. I only want what is best for our family.” Janika maintained a level gaze on their master.
Death retreated within himself, into a dark room he reserved within the depths of his mind to think. He reached out for the unenforced Certificate and manifested it before him. His eyes widened at the name printed on it. He considered the complications and possibilities. He summoned the threads of fate—red strings that floated in the darkness, carrying with them scenes of a mortal’s life. Death viewed how each event played out on several strings, all the consequences that could come about according to the decisions he would make. He rarely consulted fate, but occasionally, when a Reaper defied his will, he needed to regain order with minimal disturbance to time, space, and the human realm. He picked the best thread and returned to his consciousness. Tomas and Janika remained where he’d left them.
“I will allow you to go to Georgia, Janika,” Death said. At the young Reaper’s feral grin, he added, “Keep in mind that it is not your territory, so maintain respect as you would demand of any Reaper in your domain. I’m giving you this responsibility to teach you the importance of keeping order among us. Investigate the matter first before you act.”
“You will not be disappointed, Master,” she said then jumped into her portal in a whirl of wind. The hole shrunk, leaving the ceiling in its original state.
“Do you think it’s wise to send Janika? Wouldn’t someone lower be better equipped?” Tomas hid his hands in the pockets of his finely pressed trousers.
The tip of Death’s eyebrow rose. “Are you disagreeing with my decision, Tomas?”
“It’s just…we know Janika’s had it in for Nikolas since he first angered her. There’s a conflict of interest there. I don’t believe she will be fair. In fact, if I were a gambling creature, I would bet on it.”
Death considered his first in command, the air growing frigid around them. Every breath Tomas exhaled swirled like smoke. To his credit, the Reaper of California showed no signs of discomfort at the show of strength by his master. He stood his ground, meeting Death’s gaze head on, lips set in a rigid line.
“I know what I’m doing, Tomas.”
“You’d better,” Tomas said with derision before he evaporated, the icicles that formed on his clothing falling to the floor.
Death studied his cluttered desk, returning the temperature in his office to normal. His crow thanked him for it by flapping its wings then preening itself. He waved a hand and the papers and baubles vanished, leaving the tabletop bare. Snapping his fingers, a shimmering red thread materialized before him. It rose and swayed like a cobra in a basket. It slithered toward Death’s left hand and coiled around his fingers. He questioned himself for a mere instant, cursing Tomas for messing with his head.