Page 26 of Death and Divination
He shot me a wary look. “Not really. I mean, plants don’t have souls like other beings do, and they don’t require the assistance of reapers to transition.”
“So, what exactly did you do to my plant? Because it was alive two seconds ago, and now it’s dead.”
“I uh…I just hurried things along a bit. Sped it up, but not by much.”
“So, you’re saying the plant was dying anyway?”
He nodded.
I couldn’t hide my grin any longer. “So, you’re saying thatIwas killing my basil plant, andyouput it out of its misery?”
He tilted his head as he regarded me, a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. “Can I suggest you not attempt to keep houseplants in the future?”
Now I laughed. And when I was done laughing, I threw a pillow at him.
He caught the pillow and walked over to sit on the sofa. “You’re not angry? I know death upsets you. I was worried you would be angry.”
I sat down beside him. “No, I’m not angry. I’m sad at my inability to keep a basil plant alive, but I don’t get as upset over plant deaths as I do humans or other sentient beings.” I took the pillow from him and curled it up in my arms. “But how did you do it? I thought you couldn’t reap anymore? Maybe it wasn’t technically reaping a soul, but what you did to the basil plant isn’t something a normal human should be able to do.”
He scooted over closer to me. “I don’t know. It just happened. I didn’t even think about it. I could tell the plant was dying, and when I touched it, it just died.”
“But you’re fired. You’re not supposed to be able to do that,” I countered.
He shrugged. “I didn’t think I could. I can’t hear the call. I’m not being sent to reap other souls, but perhaps I still have the ability. I don’t know if it’s just plants, though. If a werewolf or a human were to be dying, I don’t know if I’d be able to reap their soul or not.”
I hugged the pillow and thought. Maybe if he went on some calls with me at the firehouse, we could see what happened. If someone died and another reaper showed up, perhaps they’d let Nash have a go at it first just to see if he still could do the job.
Although I didn’t know what good that skill was in the outside world. A freelance reaper? He’d be better off becoming a cable installation technician or something.
“Why does it bother you so? Death, I mean,” he asked. “It’s a transition. All of life is a transition. To live is to experience constant change. Death is just a part of that change.”
“I don’t want things to change. I like having oatmeal every morning, doing laundry on Wednesdays, meeting Sylvie for lunch Thursday afternoons, and having dinner with my family Sunday nights.”
I wasn’t a total whackadoodle, but I did like my routine. Sylvie said it was a reaction to Grandma dying and Mom taking off. Those two things had hit us one right after the other and rocked our world. I’d seen how it had affected my sisters, especially Cassie, and to cope with the grief and the fear, I’d done two things. I’d found comfort in a life full of routine, and I’d honed my divination skills to provide me with as few surprises as possible. Not that the latter always worked. My glimpses into the future were sometimes a jumbled mess of nonsense, and often they had nothing to do with what I truly wanted to see. Finding things, finding people, and weather prediction were my jam. I was also pretty accurate at my cupid-radar. Other than that, my accuracy was equal to that of a blind man trying to pin a tail on a donkey.
“What about good changes?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to tell him there were no such things as good changes only to realize I was wrong. Lucien coming into Cassie’s life was a wonderful change. As was Hadur coming into Bronwyn’s life. I was so happy for both of my sisters. Yes, the two demons changed our family dynamics quite a bit, and I’ll admit it took some getting used to having them at Sunday dinner and as part of the family, but I adapted.
And Nash…I’d been terrified over losing Sylvie just as I’d been terrified when Bronwyn had her accident, but despite the disruption to my routine, I enjoyed having Nash here in my house, sitting beside me on my couch.
I only wish that he hadn’t given up everything to be here with me. What would he do with himself if he could no longer be a reaper? What would give his new life meaning and purpose? He seemed content to be here with me, but what if that didn’t last? He’d surely want more than just following me around all day.
“You reaped the plant,” I pointed out. “Maybe you’re still a reaper or a partial reaper. A semi-reaper. Maybe they didn’t fire you but just put you on administrative leave? Suspension for a few years as a disciplinary action?”
He shook his head. “I no longer hear the call. Over a hundred thousand people die each day. We reapers are busy. If I were still a reaper, I would have been called to duty by now. I would have been called to release twenty to thirty souls in the last hour. But instead I’ve heard nothing.”
Over a hundred thousand people a day. I had to fend off a panic attack at the thought. “How many reapers are there?”
“Three hundred.”
Three hundred reapers. Now two hundred ninety-nine reapers. Would they replace Nash? Post a job opening somewhere for qualified individuals to apply? Or did reapers just spring from the ether? They didn’t seem to be angels, nor did they seem to be demons. What were they?
“The demons saw you in the kitchen when Sylvie had died,” I said. “They knew you were a reaper. So, I take it you’re not a demon?”
“No.” He smiled. “We are not demons nor angels, although we have more in common with angels then those from the infernal realms. We’re neutral. We obey neither heaven nor hell. We simply exist to ensure what is born dies and what dies is born.”
“That’s very existential of you.” I pointed to my plant. “Returning to my original question—you seem to still have some of your reaper powers. Why is that?”
