Angel of Death: (Reaper Series Book 1)

  *****

  Darius and Peyton weren’t sailing for long in the small wooden boat before they lost sight of the shore and Eve entirely. The boat seemed to move with surprising speed, despite having no visible means of mobility. It would have been peaceful if it weren’t for the deeply foreboding ethereal darkness that lay beneath them, stretching endlessly into the distance. Once the shore was no longer in sight, Peyton realized that everything had fallen silent. Everything was completely still and quiet. Whereas the sky over the Garden had been bright and blue, the sky now was gloomy and overcast, heavy dark clouds hanging overhead and only adding to the cold shiver that was running along the back of Peyton’s neck.

  “So,” Peyton began, mostly to just end the anxious silence that hung over them. “What’s this plan of yours? What do we do when we get to Fate?”

  Darius, who had been determinedly staring at the floor of the boat, slowly looked up at Peyton. He seemed as anxious as Peyton felt, but unlike Peyton, he actively avoided looking at Tartarus.

  “I need to get Fate to change the design,” Darius said. “As a Reaper, I should be able to see your death when I look at you. But because of Azrael, you don’t seem to have a death in your future. It seems your fate is to have your soul stolen and consumed.”

  Peyton shuddered, but Darius continued.

  “This is why I can’t see your fate. Because, technically, you don’t die. Azrael will imprison your soul within his for as long as he chooses. Maybe forever. But, if I can convince Fate to rewrite the design, if I can see a different fate for you, maybe then Azrael won’t win.”

  “Do you really think that will work?” Peyton asked. “I’m no expert, but it sounds…”

  “Unlikely?” Darius finished. “Yes, it might be. But if there is even the smallest chance we can beat Azrael, we have to take it.”

  Silence fell over them again and they sailed on. Peyton began tapping her foot nervously. She had barely become adjusted to the fact that this entire world actually existed outside of story books and religious text, and now she seemed to be on a quest for her very soul. It was sounding to her a lot like something that should be in an ancient Greek play, or something Homer would have written.

  Peyton’s Odyssey, Peyton thought, not being able to help but smile at the random thought. She looked at Darius. Always so serious. So determined to save her. Even though he didn’t know her. They weren’t friends. Not exactly, anyway. Peyton was comfortable around him, despite him being the embodiment of an idea she used to consider as Death. From what she could understand, he was in as much danger as she was, but spared barely a thought for himself.

  “Why did Eve tell you not to touch Tartarus?” Peyton asked suddenly.

  “It’s not a good idea for a Reaper to come into contact with Tartarus,” Darius said flatly. “Most of us simply avoid it at all costs. See, Tartarus is… not very understanding.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Eve said that Tartarus is drawn to those with a black mark on their souls,” Darius explained. “To become a Reaper, one must have two things. A great fear of dying. And a tainted soul.”

  Peyton smiled indulgently. “Come on, you can’t be tainted. Look at what you’re doing here, how much you’ve done to save me, a complete stranger to you. If anyone has a good soul, Darius, it’s you.”

  Darius gave her a small smile, but it was grim. “That’s kind of you to say. But it’s not entirely true. I hope to make amends for past mistakes.”

  Darius was suddenly reminded of how familiar Peyton looked and was once again digging through his memories for any hint of where he knew her face. He had thought he had seen a moment of recognition on Eve’s face, as well, when she saw Peyton, but he was sure he imagined it.

  “So, how did you become a Reaper?” Peyton asked.

  Darius was silent for a long time, considering her question. He stared out across Tartarus for the first time, lost in the memory. Peyton suddenly seemed to think she had asked something personal and rude.

  “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that,” she quickly said.

  Darius turned back to her and said, “No, no, it’s alright. I’ll tell you, I don’t mind.”

  He took a deep breath and looked back out across Tartarus, thinking back. He had tried not to think about it for so long, but found himself remembering every day.

  “I was human during the American Revolution,” he began. “Before the war, though, I was a slave. I was born into slavery and had never seen the land my family came from. When the war began, the man who owned me gave me to the American Militia, gave me to men who thought of me as nothing so that I would fight for a country that was not my own, for a cause that was not mine. But there was a benefit to serving. If I served long enough, and the American colonies beat the British, I would be freed. Freedom was a concept that I hadn’t thought about or considered once in my life. It seemed so out of reach, it wasn’t worth my time. But then it was right there in front of me. Freedom became all I could think about. The problem, though, was I was not placed with the regular army. I was with the militia, so things were different. Very different. The soldiers were undisciplined and reckless. We lost more men in a single day than the British did in a week. Many of the men I fought with often discussed me as though I was as much their enemy as any Redcoat. Talked about killing me, for no reason. I was not treated well during my time with them, but I endured, driven only by my thought of freedom. My Captain… he wasn’t really a Captain, but that’s what he told us to call him. His real name was Benjamin Myles. Captain Myles grew impatient with us because of our losses. We were yet to win a single fight. He was angry all the time, blaming us for our constant failures, ignoring all suggestions from everyone about improvements to our strategies, convinced that everyone was against him. In his defense, it didn’t help that most of the men preferred drinking and chasing women than actually fighting a war. But one day, we heard about a shipment of weapons that was being delivered to a British camp outside of Charlestown. We set a trap and had them surrounded. They killed twelve of us, but we killed twice as many of them, and captured three others. They had surrendered to us, throwing down their weapons and falling to their knees. I can still remember their cries for mercy. One boy, no older than 17, he had been wounded. He was bleeding badly and not likely to survive. I was ordered to line up the prisoners on the side of the road, and this… child needed my help to walk. I remember his blood on my hands. How he begged me to let him go home. How he missed his mother, his father and his sisters. Once Benjamin Myles had secured the wagon full of weapons, he congratulated us all on a ‘job well done.’ Then he came over to me. He gave me his pistol. He ordered me to shoot the prisoners. I… I didn’t know what to do. I was always told that enemies who surrender would be given full quarter, that they would be spared and taken prisoner. This, what I was being ordered to do, was murder. But when I tried to argue, Captain Myles told me that either I shoot the prisoners, or he shoots me. So, being weak and afraid of death, I turned around and took aim at the two men, my pistol aimed at one and the Captain’s aimed at the other. They tried to protest, to yell, but I had already pulled the triggers. They both fell. Then there was only the boy. He was lying in the dirt and mud, unable to stand, staring up at me. He was having trouble breathing. He stared at me through a mask of blood and sweat and tears. He was begging me. Begging me to let him go. But when I looked at Captain Myles, he was grinning. Watching. Having used all of my bullets, I drew my dagger. I remember the boy’s last word like it happened this morning. Thinking about it still makes me feel more guilt than any man should in a lifetime. He pleaded with me. One word. ‘Please.’ That’s all he said. Right before I cut his throat.”

  Darius took a deep breath, still haunted by the look in the young boy’s eyes, but his story wasn’t over.

  “A day later, the Captain allowed us all to go to the tavern and celebrate our victory. I was still very upset and drank heavily. I drank alone, as the others wo
uldn’t allow me to join them, and I got very drunk. At some point, I staggered outside to get some fresh air when I heard two people talking, a man and a woman. The woman sounded upset, like she was crying, so I went to see what was going on. When I found them, I saw Captain Myles with a woman, a young girl who worked at the tavern. He… He was trying to drag her into an alley, where it was dark and secluded. He was calling her horrible names, telling her to stop crying. He was trying to make her take off her dress. Had I been sober, I probably would have thought of a better way to resolve the situation. But instead, I ran forward, threw the Captain off the poor girl. She ran away and Myles started to pull his knife from his belt, yelling at me. We fought briefly before I managed to get the knife from his hand. Then I stabbed him to death. I didn’t want to, but he kept fighting me. He eventually reached for his pistol, and that’s when I realized he was leaving me no choice. When we were found, everyone saw me kneeling over his body, holding the knife, blood everywhere. For this, I was branded a traitor and sentenced to death. Had the color of my skin been the same as theirs, things might have been different, but I wasn’t surprised. I knew how they would react, and when they tied me up and locked me away, I never fought them. I never argued. The next morning, they blindfolded me, stood me against a tree just outside of town. And executed me by firing squad. That’s when Azrael came to me. He offered me a choice. Either pass on and face the consequences of my actions, no matter what they are. Or become a Reaper and help him guide the souls of the deceased into the next world. Obviously, I chose the path of a Reaper.”

  Darius fell silent, afraid to look at Peyton. Peyton didn’t say anything right away. The silence stretched on until Darius was sure that Peyton thought of him as a monster, but then he felt her hand on his. She took his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. He looked up at her and saw that she was smiling kindly at him, still holding his hand.

  “It’s okay, Darius,” she said. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. You were just following orders when you killed those men, it wasn’t your choice. You couldn’t have stopped it. As for your Captain, well, it sounds like he got what he deserved. You were only trying to save an innocent girl. Just like you’re trying to save me now. So, I don’t think you’re tainted, Darius. Not one bit.”

  Darius smiled at her. For a moment, it was nice. Sitting in a boat, holding hands with an attractive woman. He almost forgot where they were. And what they were about to face.