NIKO SHUT THE DOOR to his master’s office and shook away the aftereffects of being in his presence. Sitting alone with Death felt like basking in the noon sun. Not only did it burn, it blinded. Normally, being ranked ninth gave him a certain amount of immunity, but with his power supply dwindling, Niko had to white-knuckle through the whole experience.
He refused to rub his eyelids despite his ever blurring vision, knowing Janika watched him like a predator from her seat on the waiting couch. It was upholstered in polar bear fur. He saw two of her when she spoke.
“Let me say this again—you look horrible,” she said. She crossed her legs and spread her arms wide over the top of the couch.
“As if you can match me in looks on my worst day,” Niko retorted. He tried on a smirk, but his lips trembled. Weakness stood arm in arm with him, whispering into his ear to give up. His legs refused to keep him upright. Only the force of his will kept him standing. Barely.
“Oh, why must you continue to antagonize me so? At least make it a fair fight, Nikolas. If I decided to crush you now, I’d only get a slap on the wrist compared to what I have planned for you. But it wouldn’t be a challenge at all in your state.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Despite being as weak as a whisp, you still challenge me?” With preternatural speed, she had him pinned against the wall, her long-nailed fingers digging into his neck. She licked his face from jaw to temple. “I like this suicidal side of you. Make one mistake, just one, and I promise I will be the first to volunteer to make you suffer.”
Niko dug the fingernail of his thumb into his palm, focusing on the pain it caused instead of the roiling rage inviting him to snap. He’d be no match for the alligator that had him in its maw. Mental note: If you survive this, you dolt, gather as much residual energy as you can.
“Janika!” The avalanche of Death’s voice rumbled through the door.
She winced and released Niko. “I’ll see you around, Reaper,” she said then disappeared.
Niko tidied his suit jacket and tie with shaking fingers. He’d reached his limit. The light beside his gas gauge blinked.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. When he opened them, he still found himself outside Death’s office. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck until vertebrae popped, then tried teleporting again.
Slumped forward on a bench, arms on knees, Niko contemplated how he’d ended up an hour away from home. He’d concentrated enough on the location he wanted to arrive at, yet here he sat, on a bench shaded by a tree, facing a main road across from a hospital. His internal GPS had conked out on him. He didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned. He’d used up the last of his energy, bringing with it a buoyancy he’d heard associated with the Fade.
A woman walking a poodle gave him a half-hearted version of a concerned citizen.
“Are you all right, young man?” she asked.
Niko glanced up at her and squinted. He couldn’t find the strength to put on his usual mask of mortality. “I’m fine, ma’am,” he whispered, voice an inch away from the grave.
The poodle eyed him suspiciously.
Niko had to resist the urge to flick a ping of energy he couldn’t spare at the canine snob.
“Maybe you should go to the hospital,” the woman suggested. Her face said something along the lines of “I should’ve minded my own business.”
“Look, lady,” Niko said, “it’s obvious that you don’t really want to help me. And you won’t be of any help. Now, move along with your anorexic dog and leave me alone.”
“Well, I—” She sniffed then harrumphed and yanked at her dog’s leash, which caused the animal to yip.
Niko returned to figuring out the logistics of getting home. He needed to siphon residual energy as soon as possible. The hospital provided souls, but he needed to immerse himself fully, and the only place that contained enough souls, stored there by his minions, awaiting transport, was his basement. All he had strength for was to sit without falling over.
“Is this it?” he asked himself, tilting his head up to watch the sky change from pinch pink to bruise purple. “Why have I been so careless?”
The question intrigued him. If only he had time to reflect on it further. Why had he allowed himself to get so weak? Did he really want to fade away? He’d lived many lives. At the beginning, he’d enjoyed what his lives had to offer. He grew into himself, learning what it meant to be a Reaper, the power he accumulated in time to eventually find himself within the top ten—a private club with members that hardly changed. He couldn’t even remember the last time a new Reaper had joined their ranks. Then, and he wasn’t quite sure when, his lives started looking the same. Different lifetimes. Different decades. But everything remained the same. He grew up, went to school, graduated college, found an acceptable, yet modest job that kept him from being discovered as anything but human, then he died of old age to start the cycle all over again. He’d seen countless wars, reaped all those souls. He’d driven the first car. Watched man land on the moon. Observed the bursting of the dot com bubble. He’d seen the world change many times over, become a witness to the evolution of society. He should have been excited, happy, eager to wake up every morning with the knowledge that he did his job well. But as he sat on the increasingly lumpy bench, he found himself asking, “What do I have to live for?”
“Niko?” a voice he’d heard for the first time earlier that day swathed him in comfort. “What’re you doing here? And why are you in a suit like you just came from a funeral? Who died?”
“What does it mean to be alive?” he asked the girl who’d spoken with an urgency he couldn’t quite understand the purpose for.
“To be alive? Niko, you’re not making any sense.”
“Just answer the question.”
A long pause made him think she’d left him to his fate. He’d never thought of himself as suicidal, but there was always a first for everything. Then his salvation came as the words: “To live is to choose. But to choose well, you must know who you are and what you stand for, where you want to go and why you want to get there.”
He barked a laugh. “You’re giving me a Kofi Annan quote?”
“Off the top of my head, it’s better than nothing!” She stomped her foot and slapped him on the shoulder. “Open your freakin’ eyes!”
At her request, he opened the eyes he hadn’t realized were shut. The strands of her fiery hair had lost none of their luster, even in the fading light. His angel had come to take him away, to save him from the pathetic existence of his own making with Kofi Annan quotes. He reached out a two-ton hand and caressed a lock that dangled off her shoulder while she studied him. His fingers slid effortlessly through the silky tresses.
“You have such beautiful hair,” he whispered.
She flushed.
He sighed. If she’s the last thing I ever see, then I’ve glimpsed heaven.
“Niko…Niko!” She tapped his cheek like a drum, in rapid Samba beats. “Open your eyes. Please. Open your eyes.” When he didn’t respond fast enough, she began pulling him off the bench.
He groaned, the weight of the ages begging him to stay seated. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to the hospital.” She put his arm over her shoulders and proceeded to tug him across the street.
“No.” He managed to plant his feet firmly on the sidewalk to hamper their progress. “Arianne, no.”
She whirled her head to stare at him skeptically. “You’re gray! I’ve never seen anyone that color before. Don’t shake your head at me. It’s clear you need medical help. You can’t even stand on your own.”
The distress on her face melted his insides. “Please, take me home.”
“I don’t think going to my house—” She paused and thought about it. “Oh, you mean your house.”
“Do you know the way?”
Uncertainty replaced her concern. “Uh, yeah, sure…I do.” She cleared her throat. “But what will going to your house do? You need a hospital!”
“Trust me.” A spasm erupted in his chest, causing him to stumble. Arianne steadied him before he face-planted on the pavement. “We need to hurry,” he gasped out. “Please. I don’t know how much longer I can last.”
The bus out of Atlanta arrived.
“Come on.” She hustled them to the street corner. “We need to catch that bus.”
Niko gathered what little strength he could muster and aided Arianne in getting him on the bus. When they stumbled up the steps, the driver studied them dubiously.
“Shouldn’t you two be heading for the hospital?” he asked.
Arianne paid the fare. “Nah,” she said. “He just needs to sleep it off.” She imitated swigging an imaginary bottle.
Niko would have laughed at Arianne’s attempt at sullying his good-teen reputation, but he could no longer feel his legs.
The driver shook his head and muttered something about “kids these days” while shutting the door with the turn of a lever.
The five other passengers eyed them, some with curiosity, others with dismay. The bus lurched forward before Arianne and Niko could take their seat. Arianne used the momentum to heave Niko into a bench and nudged him closer to the window with her hip.
Along the interstate, Arianne said, “Are you sure about this?”
Niko took a minute to process her words. His head debated whether to stay attached to his neck or take its chances and run. It lolled to the side precariously.
“Yes,” he breathed out. “Thank you.”
“Don’t.” She stared straight ahead. “Don’t thank me yet.”
His head found salvation on her shoulder. He breathed in the sweet watermelon scent of her shampoo: summer in all its goodness. She stiffened for a second before relaxing into the contact.
“Niko?” she asked tentatively.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t want to alarm you or anything,” she continued in a quick whisper, “but your hand just disappeared.”
Niko opened one eye so fast his world spun for a second. He glanced down without moving his head from Arianne’s shoulder. A morbid grin tugged at his lips. His left hand had indeed disappeared.
“Well, isn’t that nice,” he said.
“Nice?” Arianne’s voice climbed an octave.
“Shhh. You don’t want the others to hear.” He used his still present right hand to squeeze her thigh. “Calm down. I’ll be fine. Just get me home.”
“But we’re still forty minutes out of Blackwood. What’s happening to you?”
“I’m fading.”
“I’d say there’s no such thing, but your hand’s gone.” She squirmed.
Niko squeezed her thigh one more time, unsure if he wanted to stop her jarring movement or feel that she still sat beside him. He decided on the latter. “Arianne, I’m having a hard time gathering my thoughts. Please, keep quiet. I’ll close my eyes for a second and rest. Wake me when we’re home.”
By the time Arianne dragged Niko up the steps of his home’s front porch, he’d become half delirious. Shakes and sweat rolled off him. He’d babbled incoherently, in and out of consciousness. Every beat of his heart radiated new pulses of pain through his body. At one point, he heard her ring the doorbell and pound on the antique door.
“Hello,” she yelled. “Is anyone home? Mr. and Mrs. Clark! Help!” She pushed at the doorbell incessantly.
In a moment of clarity, Niko asked, “Who are Mr. and Mrs. Clark?”
“Oh God, your fever’s getting worse.” Arianne tightened her grip around his waist. “You don’t even know you have parents.”
“But, I don’t—”
The door swung open with no one at the other side. Niko cringed. Another wave of gut-twisting agony playing stab-the-tail-on-the-donkey rammed his insides as Arianne dragged him into the foyer. His left arm had completely vanished along with part of his right leg up to the knee and his right arm up to the elbow. Holding on to Arianne and keeping upright at the same time brought the gymnast out in him.
“Hello!” Arianne called out again. The word echoed. “We could really use some help here! Hello!”
Sickleton materialized before them like a picture fading in. “Master,” he said, anxiety marring his usually passive features.
Arianne yelped and stumbled back, almost falling over with Niko in tow. “You only have half your legs! And I can see right through you!”
“Not important right now,” Niko slurred.
“Master, what is this human doing in your domain?” Sickleton hovered closer.
Arianne’s arm trembled as she pointed at his Caretaker. “Stay where you are or I swear…uh, I don’t exactly know what I’ll do. So, please, stay there!”
“Sickleton!” Niko tried for a command, but only came up with a hoarse murmur.
“Come.” The Caretaker motioned then floated away.
“What? Where?” Arianne still sounded spooked.
“Just follow me, child. I will not harm you.” Sickleton waved her forward. “He needs to be brought to the basement.”
After a second’s hesitation, Arianne moved. Niko felt the tremors running over her body, and her touch turned clammy. His angel persevered, and if he could only gain clarity of mind again for a minute, he’d spend those sixty seconds admiring her beauty. Instead, he wanted to puke his soul out. No one had informed him that the Fade wasn’t as painless as it sounded.
“The basement?” Arianne adjusted her hold on him. “Shouldn’t we be bringing him to a doctor?”
“Trust me, child,” Sickleton said over his shoulder. “He needs to be in the basement.”
Arianne frowned, saying nothing else. She followed the apparition before her with quiet intent. Niko groaned and attempted to lift his head, failing like a miserable drunk. They passed a long hallway with portraits of men in varying styles of clothing. Between each portrait were glowing sconces that cast watchful shadows along the floor and opposite wall.
“This way.” Sickleton veered left. “Hurry.”
“I don’t see you trying to help,” Arianne grumbled.
“I would if I could. But I cannot come near or he will suck me dry. The most I can do is get him to the basement.”
“Remind me to ask you to explain what the freak is going on here!” The fear in Arianne’s voice steered Niko.
“Don’t panic,” he said in a small voice.
“Too late for that. You know how the words ‘don’t panic’ never work? Well, this is more than what my weird quotient can handle.”
Sickleton opened a door and moved aside. “Down there.” He pointed at a set of steps that led into blind darkness.
Arianne stood by the door, knees shaking. “You want me to bring him down there?”
“Hurry, if you please.” Sickleton gestured at the stairs.
“But I won’t be able to see after five steps down.”
“I will provide illumination.”
Niko moaned.
“We are losing him. Please, child.”
The abject worry on the floating apparition’s austere face had Arianne steeling herself as best she could with a solemn swallow. She proceeded to climb down the steps. And like a switch being flipped, a ball of white light bobbed over her shoulder.
At the landing, she eased toward the last set of steps to the basement floor and paled. A crowd of the souls from the recently deceased swayed like dead trees in a roaring wind. They all stared into space, oblivious to anyone or anything around them. All naked. All dead.
The scream Arianne had been holding in finally found a hole in her courage to climb out. She dropped Niko on the landing with a sickening thud.
Sickleton appeared beside her and said, “Your help is very much appreciated.” He flicked his hand and unseen guards lifted Arianne up the stairs, down the hall, through the foyer, and out the door.