Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross (17 page)

John stood waiting for the flame-haired
Irishman’s answer. He had delivered the news that Thomas had
already passed and witnessed a momentary weakening in Seamus’
façade. With a shake of that red-head, however, the crack in that
wall was gone and the emerald green eyes were narrowed on him again
in suspicion.

“The option is yours, Seamus Flannery,” John
reminded evenly.

“So, let’s say I take yer offer,” Seamus said
after exhaling the smoke from his mouth. “What happens to me when
I’ve completed the job?”

“Fortunately, for you, there is no real
completion. The job of a Grim Reaper is constant in the spirit
world. People continue to die every day. Good people, bad people –
they all must be escorted to their fates, Seamus. I’m presenting
you the opportunity to stall yours.”

Seamus grunted and took another deep drag
from his cigarette. John could see the wheels were grinding in the
Irishman’s head. Seamus Flannery was well aware of his judgment.
John was hoping to play on the wisp of thought that Seamus was
selfish enough to want to avoid facing that fate for awhile
longer.

“And yer sayin’ I would be the head of my own
department?” Seamus asked.

“I suppose you could put it that way,” John
answered.

“Imagine that,” Seamus said with an amused
shake of his head. “Me in charge,”

“In a sense,” John agreed. “What is your
decision?”

The emerald green eyes snapped to meet his
again. Greed and danger danced through them. John sensed that
Seamus had already made the decision and was merely biding his time
to see whether he could gain anything more than stalling the facing
of his fate. John met his gaze evenly, unwilling to offer anything
more than that stalling.

“All right then,” Seamus finally said. “I’ll
take it on. When do I start?”

“Today. Your training begins at once,” John
raised his right hand and signaled for Brigit to join the
conversation. “This is my associate, Brigit Malone,” he introduced
when he sensed Brigit was within hearing range. He watched as
Seamus Flannery’s attention snapped to Brigit and assessed her
quickly.

“And what department does she deal with?”
Seamus asked.

“We’re currently restructuring the firm,”
John replied. “At present, Brigit is my assistant. She will have a
hand in your training. When I am disposed, she will be in
charge.”

Brigit felt Seamus Flannery assess her again
and shake his head in disbelief. She was about to open her mouth to
protest his assessment, but John laid a soft hand on her arm and
quieted any protest she might think of. Her original doubts, the
thoughts she had been unable to put a label on, were beginning to
swarm and meld together. There was going to be a problem between
her and Seamus Flannery. Unfortunately, she lacked the vision to
know exactly what it would be.

“Fine,” Seamus spat as he threw the stub of
his current cigarette to the pavement and smashed it out under the
toe of his boot. “Let’s get busy then.”

When they returned to the office, Brigit
listened silently as John escorted Seamus through the offices and
explained the operation of the firm. She watched as John presented
the Irishman with the Reaper’s Field Guide and then watched as
Seamus hastily began to scan over its contents. He was eager to
start work. She could see that he was also one who would do
anything and everything he could to be impressive. She wondered how
many errors he would make along the way in trying to prove himself.
When John let Seamus into the arsenal room, Brigit finally had a
few moments alone with her mentor.

“You’re still having your doubts,” John
pointed out quietly as he sank into the seat behind his desk.

“I am. I still can’t put a finger on it,
though. I just think, eventually, he will become a problem,” Brigit
prophesied. John studied her for a second before nodding his head
in agreement. He too could foresee a problem, but like Brigit, he
couldn’t find the moment it would unfold in their laps.

“We’ll deal with it when the time comes. In
the mean time, we must get him trained by the rules and make sure
he understands them as they are written. We can’t afford to have a
maverick reaping souls. It’s bad enough the Bailey still hasn’t
come around and the files keep pouring in. You haven’t see him,
have you?” Brigit shook her head. She had been too focused on her
assignments to have noticed the Bailey running amok anywhere near
her.

“Be sure to keep an eye out for him, will
you?” John requested. Brigit nodded and was about to ask another
question when Seamus burst into the office, swinging the gnarled
club wildly in front of him.

“What do you think of this?” he asked as he
took a couple more swings through the air. It was the shelaighley,
a traditional walking stick of Ireland made from the roots of the
Blackthorn tree.

“How does it feel?” John asked.

“It feels good. I would have taken that black
Samurai sword, but it wouldn’t lift off the table. So, I took what
felt familiar to me,” Seamus explained.

“A sword is only to be used in extreme
assignments, Mr. Flannery,” Brigit addressed him. Seamus looked at
her, this time without a light of disapproval.

“Why?” his red eyebrows had arched in
curiosity at her comment.

“The use of a sword condemns a soul to
eternal limbo. There is no heaven, no hell. It’s the emptiness in
between that a soul will face if a sword is used to pass them,”
Brigit continued. John nodded in agreement with the lesson she
explained.

“Oh, well, since you put it that way…” Seamus
took a few more swings with the shelaighley again and smiled to
himself.

“Aside from that, that particular sword will
only allow itself to be carried by one of two people,” John added,
catching both Brigit and Seamus’ attention. “Only its maker or a
Reaper on a divine and honorable mission may carry it. There was a
spell put on it by the last samurai to die by it. As he uttered the
curse, the conquering warlord that had carried it found that he
could no longer command or wield the sword and he left it in the
field beside his fallen enemy to be taken to the spirit world. It
was brought to our firm by Araxius Herodotus himself. It has only
been used once since its arrival,” John explained quietly. He
watched as the history lesson of the sword sank in on the two
Reapers.

“What about the other swords?” Seamus asked
as he mulled the story over.

“I’ll refer you back to Brigit’s explanation
regarding the use of a sword,” John sighed patiently. “Now, please,
take a seat, Mr. Flannery. I need to design your training
schedule,” he motioned to the empty chair to Brigit’s left.
“Brigit, take these assignments for today. I’ll fill you in when
you return.”

Brigit took the pile of portfolios John
indicated and silently walked out of the office. Her mind was
churning with the sense that Seamus Flannery was going to end up
being more a problem than assistance. It was a welcome distraction,
though, she thought. She couldn’t allow the thought of Maggie to
enter her mind right now. She was still unsure whether she should
continue to keep her promise. It still burned that Maggie would
move on so quickly.

Brigit kept herself busy for a week, ignoring
the passing of the end of the year and the beginning of the New
Year. John was more than willing to pass her a pile of portfolios
upon her return to the office. Their assignment piles were
beginning to shrink thanks to her attention to the job. Brigit made
no objection to the work load. It was a welcomed distraction from
the thoughts that would pass through her mind during the minutes
between. It also kept her from directly dealing with Seamus
Flannery.

She had kept from imagining the going-on of
Maggie’s every day existence. Brigit couldn’t allow herself to
imagine the intimate moments Maggie was spending with Lorena
Rubens. She couldn’t allow those pictures to enter her mind. If she
did, she felt a spark of anger that she desperately wanted to
avoid. Brigit had always hated to be angry. She had always felt the
emotion to be such a drain on her energy.

It was there, though. The little spark glowed
in the darkness that she continually tried to avoid looking into.
When she would glimpse it, Brigit would quickly divert her
attention. She couldn’t feed it, not now. She hadn’t made a
decision yet.

Seamus Flannery was taking to his training
like a fish to water. John expressed his happiness with his choice
more than once and Brigit found she was more and more uncomfortable
with it. Seamus had made a few remarks in her direction, remarks
she chose to ignore for the time being. His cockiness wore on her
nerves as he would recount his field training under John’s
tutelage. As he would tell the tale of scuffles during some of the
more minor assignments under his department as if they were great
feats of daring bravery and Brigit found it increasingly hard to
control the urge to roll her eyes in boredom with the story.
Instead, she suffered the details until John would pass her another
pile and excuse her for the day.

Toward the middle of the second week of not
going home, Brigit took a moment to ponder it all. She missed
Maggie. She missed the familiar surroundings of the home they had
built together. She wanted to feel Maggie’s warmth against her
body. She wanted to wrap her arms around her lover and hear the
gentle breathing that came when Maggie was deep in a peaceful
sleep.

Upon returning to the office, she was not
surprised when John slid more work toward her. He, however, was
surprised when she shook her head in decline.

“I’m going home tonight,” she announced
quietly.

“So you’ve made a decision in regard to
Maggie?” he asked.

“Who’s Maggie?” Seamus piped up from the
corner where he was going through a box he had been assigned to
sort out.

“My wife,” Brigit replied automatically. She
bit her tongue as soon as the words were out. She had not meant to
expose anything personal to Seamus. Especially anything about
Maggie.

“Go then,” John said quickly. “We’ll see you
in the morning.”

Brigit only nodded and exited the office. She
had made her decision. She would keep her promise. She would learn
to deal with Maggie’s course through the rest of her life. Brigit
would be there when that life ended and the next one would
begin.

“She’s a bleedin’ lesbo?” she heard Seamus
ask in a harsh whisper. “That’s too bad. I was hoping to have a
go…”

“Keep dreaming, lad.” Brigit heard John warn
with an amused tone in his voice.

The apartment was empty when Brigit entered.
It was after five, by the clock on the wall. By the look of things,
Maggie had spent little time at home lately. Newspapers were piled
on the end of the sofa; the rubber band holding them in a roll had
not been removed. The flowers Lorena had brought Maggie that first
night had since been replaced in the vase on the kitchen table and
dishes lay in the sink, half filled with water to prevent stains.
Brigit made her way to the bedroom with a slight sense of
foreboding. She was hesitant to view more evidence of Maggie’s
absence from their home.

The bed was perfectly made. The decorative
pillows had been lined against the headboard and the comforter
smoothed to near photo-finish perfection. Brigit’s attention went
to the small table on Maggie’s side and felt her heart sink. The
small photograph Maggie had kept there for years was gone. She
wondered, as she sank onto the bed and sighed heavily, if the
photograph had joined the other mementos of their life in the box
that now lived in the hall closet.

The thought brought her up from the bed.
Quickly, she went to the hall closet and opened the door. Not just
the spirit of the door, but the
actual door
. The shock of it
missed her as she knelt and ripped the lid off the box Maggie had
been storing all their memories in. She found the photo resting on
top of the pile that had accumulated there. She snatched it up and
quickly returned to the bedroom. As she placed it back on Maggie’s
bedside table, the sudden realization that she had moved something
physical finally struck her. She turned and looked at the closet
door. It was still standing wide open in the hall. Her heart
suddenly leapt with joy. She had moved a physical object!

But what did it mean? Was it a new power that
she could harness to alert Maggie that she was still present? Was
it a new way to remind her lover to stay true to their love and
everything they had once had? It would definitely be more
noticeable than the killing of fresh flowers in a cut bouquet…

Brigit’s mind raced with the possibilities as
she looked around the room. A small velvet box on the bureau caught
her eye. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up and opened it.
Inside, she found a pair of diamond earrings. A wicked smile came
to her lips as she eyed them. They had to be a gift from Lorena.
The wickedness of Brigit’s smile was based on the knowledge that
Maggie had no use for diamonds. She had never possessed a fondness
or a desire for the gems. Anyone who truly knew Maggie knew that
she was the least likely person to wear diamonds. Brigit snapped
the lid shut on the small box and looked to her left. A small
wastebasket still sat nestled in the corner. With a tinge of
delight, she dropped the jewelry box in the small bin.

She turned her attention back to the bureau
and began to scan for other items that could have come from Lorena
when she heard the front door open. She could hear Maggie
chattering and another voice – Lorena Rubens’ – adding to the
conversation. Brigit resumed her seat on the edge of the bed and
listened to the commotion in the front room. She could only smile
when she heard Maggie’s verbal wonderment about the door to the
hall closet being opened.