Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross (16 page)

“Twenty years into my service with the firm,
I was in middle management, if you will. I supervised a regiment of
Reapers in Western Europe, giving them their assignments –
overseeing their training and providing assistance when they were
in difficult situations. One day, I was preparing assignments when
I came across Dillon’s portfolio. As I sat in my office, I began to
shake and struggle with my first instinct to rush to his side. I
made a decision to break a rule,”

“Rule number three?
A Reaper shall not
reap his own
?” Brigit asked.

“That’s the one,” John confirmed. “My heart
told me it was the right thing to do. So, I went to Dillon O’Shea.
I found him sitting in his apartment, the same one I had seen him
in that night. He was so pale, so thin. I hadn’t read his
portfolio, but I could see that an unnatural illness had been the
cause of his death.”

“How did he react to seeing you again?”
Brigit asked quietly.

“He was relieved, apologetic; happy… there
were so many emotions he let loose in those few minutes of our time
together. All I could do was offer my forgiveness to him, to tell
him I still loved him. Then, I opened the door and told him to go
home. He asked me to come with him, but I had to deny him. That
broke what was left of my heart, but I was a Reaper now. I couldn’t
just pass over. I think that broke his heart, but he passed. When I
closed the door, I found Araxius standing behind me. I was demoted
after a severe lecture. It took me another twenty years to make
middle management again, but in hindsight, it was all right. I no
longer had a flame burning in my heart to steer me in my decisions.
I had my memories, but I no longer had that particular emotion to
take into consideration.”

Brigit stared hard into her coffee. She
understood everything her mentor was saying. There was a warning in
his tale, a subliminal message behind the words he spoke. She
caught every nuance he was not saying out loud.

“The living must go on, Brigit,” John said
quietly. “We must continue with the job we have undertaken. If we
choose to forget everything that made our souls what they currently
are, we become as cold as the stones that lay above our heads in
the grave yard. Try to understand that we all need to feel alive
while we are alive.”

Brigit looked at John and saw that he was
looking at her. There was a warm light in his ice blue eyes as he
spoke in Maggie’s defense.

“She still loves you,” he continued, “but all
she has now is your memory. Take that into consideration as she
moves on.”

Brigit could only nod. She turned her face
away and looked toward the street scene outside the café window.
The sun was still hours from rising. The old man in the booth
beside the window was watching the empty street intently. From
where she sat, she could see the sadness deep in his eyes. He was
waiting, but for what, she had no clue.

“Did I tell you I’ve found a new recruit?”
John cut into her thoughts; the lilt in his voice told her he was
glad to finally move away from the previous subject of his
memory.

“You did,” Brigit replied quietly. “When do
we do the interview?” She looked up to see a forced smile dancing
in his eyes.

“No time like the present…”

John had given Brigit the portfolios in his
pocket as they set out from the café. As she scanned the names
embossed on the thin black folders, she was surprised to see that
it was two of the same family.

“Brothers?” she asked as she opened the first
folder.

“Yes,” John replied. “They’re immigrants.
Thomas is the younger brother. He’s not quite so volatile as his
elder brother, Seamus; but, they were both a force to be reckoned
with as mortal men. Thomas had the tendency to follow Seamus’ lead
through their lives.”

“So, which one are you considering as a
recruit?” Brigit asked as she quickly scanned through Thomas’ file.
She closed the portfolio and opened Seamus’ to scan it equally as
quick.

“Either one will do, honestly,” John said.
“They’re both brawlers. I think that particular quality will be
beneficial in the harder assignments, don’t you agree? I mean, it’s
not as though either of us really like a fight,” he pointed
out.

“This much is true,” Brigit agreed. She had
noticed early on that John Blackwick hated a fight as much as she
did. It was what kept them delving too deeply into the ‘harder’
assignments.

They walked together down the sidewalk toward
the same neighborhood that Brigit had met her fate in. She felt a
shiver run down her spine as she remembered the buildings and the
sounds of that particular evening. The changing leaves had long
since fallen from their posts in the trees lining the street and
been swept away by the wind and street cleaners. All that remained
were the grey limbs that would bear green buds once the first
breath of spring arrived again.

They found Thomas sitting on the stoop of a
tenement building, his head turning right to left and back again.
He was waiting for someone. Brigit had the feeling that someone was
never going to come. Thomas was watching, though, and his eyes
followed each person that walked past him. A look of contempt was
in his dark green eyes as he tore his gaze away and returned it to
the opposite end of the street. Brigit felt his eyes settle on her
as they continued their approach. She had the feeling he knew they
could see him. She saw his back straighten as they neared.

“Thomas Flannery,” John addressed the young
man sitting on the stoop.

“Aye, who are you?” Thomas replied.

“John Blackwick. This is my associate, Brigit
Malone,” John introduced. Brigit saw the young man’s deep green
eyes flick over her again. The look of disdain in them deepened
momentarily.

“Never heard of ye,” Thomas said.

“We are aware of as much,” John agreed.
“However, we have come to offer you a proposition.”

“I’m waiting for me brother,” Thomas said
quickly, ignoring John’s mention of a proposition. “He said to meet
him here.”

“Your brother isn’t coming,” Brigit said
softly.

“Why not? What’s happened to Seamus? What did
you do to him?” Thomas looked horrified at this tidbit of
information. He cast an accusing glare directly at her.

“We’ve not seen your brother, yet,” John cut
in. Brigit noticed that he had taken a step forward and placed
himself between Thomas and herself. “However, we will be visiting
him next if you decline our offer.”

“Why won’t Seamus come for me? He said he
would be here.” The young man was still ignoring anything beyond
news of his missing brother.

“Seamus is dead, Thomas,” John sighed.

The two Reapers watched as the announcement
sank in on the young man. His lower lip began to tremble and an
angry fear filled his eyes.

“You’re lying! Who sent you? Where’s my
brother?”

“Your brother is dead,” John pressed. “As are
you. You were set upon by two of the men that you and your brother
planned to rob tonight. Do you remember? ” John was laying out the
fact, Brigit noticed. She wondered if it was for lack of time, or
patience, that John was going to force the young man to acknowledge
what had happened to him.

“You’re lying,” Thomas insisted. He was
sobbing now. Brigit watched in fascination as his spirit
immediately crumbled before them. “I knew this was a bad idea. Damn
you, Seamus! You said this was our ticket to go home. You fookin’
idjit! I told you this was a bad idea!”

John and Brigit exchanged glances before
returning their attention to the crumbling young man before them.
In that glance, they had agreed this was not the candidate they
wanted.

“Thomas Flannery, would you like to go home
now? Back to Ireland?” John offered.

“I can’t leave without Seamus. Me Mum would
kill me,” Thomas sobbed as he ran his arm across his face to wipe
away the tears only he could feel.

“That would be a moot point,” Brigit said
quietly. “Your mother will understand,” she assured him. Thomas
Flannery cast a glare that pushed her back to silence. He had no
use for a woman’s voice – save his mother’s. She wondered briefly
if his brother had the same attitude towards a female. If it were
the case, she knew they would have a problem if Seamus Flannery
chose to take the offer his brother was ignoring.

“Thomas Flannery,” John stepped closer to the
young Irishman and Brigit saw the door appear to their right. “You
may pass now. Your mother will understand all,” he assured the
young man. Thomas Flannery stared hard into the ice blue eyes that
were leveled on him. He recognized the light that danced in the
gaze he met. John Blackwick would not give him any other option.
Realizing as much, Thomas Flannery nodded his agreement and sighed
deeply.

“I do want to go home,” he admitted. “I never
wanted to come here in the first place; but Seamus insisted. He
said we could live like kings here. We’ve been living worse than
the rats in the alley,” Thomas revealed. “I was not borne to be a
thief. I was borne to be a prince. Mum always said so,” he
continued. “Yes, I want to go home now.”

John pulled open the door. Brigit noted it’s
location and frowned. Thomas Flannery was not going home, as he
hoped, but rather to a place that his mortal life had merited his
reward. It was too bad, she thought. She was sure that deep down
there was some spark of goodness that could have saved him from
this fate.

She watched as the young man stepped through
the door without another word. John closed it softly and shook his
head.

“You lied to him about going home,” Brigit
pointed out quietly. The door had been to John’s right – it was
definitely not the path home for those who had walked the darker
path of mortal existence.

“Unfortunately, I felt it was necessary. I
believe he would have further wasted our time if I hadn’t. That’s
too bad really,” he said quietly. “I was hoping to take the lesser
of two evils.”

“Seamus is worse?” Brigit asked.

“I’m afraid so,” John answered. “Thomas was
more of the thinker than Seamus. Still as dangerous, but he would
have thought about it for a second longer than his brother will.
Well,” John took the now blank portfolio of Thomas Flannery from
Brigit and slipped it into his coat pocket. “I suppose we must move
on to the next interview.”

Together, they continued walking down the
sidewalk. Brigit opened Seamus Flannery’s portfolio and read it
slowly as she walked. He was a thief, a murderer, a liar… there was
no goodness listed in his file what-so-ever. She wondered how John
could see any potential in such a person to complete the job they
were going to assign him. Even with hard cases, a measure of
compassion and mercy was still a good thing to have. Apparently,
Seamus Flannery lacked either based on his life’s record. She was
about to point out as much when John stopped and outstretched his
arm. Her attention followed his pointed finger down the alley to
where they could hear the sound of angry grumbling and the
occasional curse.

Seamus Flannery was pacing irritably back and
forth across the narrow alleyway. With every other step, he would
take a deep drag from the stub of his cigarette and then exhale it
with the steps in between. Brigit and John stood at the head of the
alley watching the eldest Flannery brother as he paced. He was
waiting and both Reapers knew why. Judging by the scowl on the
Irishman’s face, Brigit was glad John was the one in charge here.
If Thomas Flannery found disdain in a woman’s presence, she was
sure Seamus Flannery found disgust. She was especially glad she
wouldn’t be the one to tell him that his brother had already passed
over.

Seamus continued his pacing. The cigarette
between his fingers had become a smoldering nub. Angrily, he threw
it to the pavement and smashed it out under the toe of his heavy
boot. Keeping his attention on the end of the alley, the Irishman
reached into his leather jacket and withdrew a crumpled pack from
the inside breast pocket. Inanely, he withdrew another cigarette
and placed it between his lips as he deftly slipped the pack back
to its resting place. His pacing halted only when he stopped to
strike a match and touch the flame to the tip of the cigarette.
Brigit watched him intently as he continued to watch the end of the
alley. His eyes were narrowed, as if they might pierce the shadows
for any sign of his brother.

“Are you sure about this?” Brigit whispered
as John repositioned his hold on the ebony walking stick he
carried.

“It was Seamus or Thomas. Obviously, we have
no choice in this now unless Seamus decides to cross as well. Are
you having doubts?”

“Yes,” Brigit admitted. She returned her gaze
to the Irishman. His pacing had resumed. Now, there were muttered
curses to accompany it in between the inhale and exhale of his
fresh cigarette. Her ears detected some words in Gaelic, others in
English and some that were a mixture of the two.

“What is it?” John asked in a whisper as he
watched Brigit study the potential new hire.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted.

She didn’t know. Something deep in her gut,
however, was telling her to use caution around the swearing
Irishman. It went beyond the obvious dislike of females the
Flannery brothers possessed. A small whisper in the back of her
mind was telling her to be very- very careful around him.
Instinctively, her grip tightened on the umbrella handle.

“Just be careful,” she warned quietly. A
light smile tugged at the corners of her mentor’s mouth.

“Let’s keep an open mind, Brigit,” John said.
With that, he turned and began walking casually down the alley
toward the flame-haired, swearing Irishman.

Brigit watched in silence, measuring her
breaths evenly as she waited for the first sign of trouble. She had
seen John’s fighting abilities. He was always calm and collected
during a confrontation. With a brawler like Seamus Flannery,
though, Brigit had the instinct that it would take double the
effort to pass him over if he rejected the bargain the Grim Reaper
would offer. Seamus Flannery’s portfolio was written and the
doorway would appear as soon as John Blackwick was within arm’s
reach of him. She noticed, however, that John kept just outside his
reach of the red-headed man.