Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross (2 page)

Slowly, Brigit readjusted her grip on the
hanger still holding the coat over her shoulder. Involuntarily, her
grip tightened on the briefcase handle she held in the other hand.
Her eyes would adjust, she told herself as she focused on the blue
light bulb burning over the door at the end of the alley. Rachel
had said to knock twice so they would know it was Brigit on the
other side. The girl hadn’t said what Brigit should do if she were
attacked during the walk to the door.

Brigit shook that idea out of her head. She
would know what to do if she were attacked. Seven years of
Kung
Fu
training would take over if it were actually to happen. It
would be the first time she would use it outside a competitive
tournament, but she was confident it would be an automatic
response.

The breeze picked up again, this time blowing
from the east. A few strands of Brigit’s black hair blew free from
the ponytail she wore on Fridays. She shivered as a chill from the
breeze slid across the back of her neck. She made a quick note to
herself to politely decline the next invitation to visit the bar,
no matter what season it came in.

Fighting the urge to look from side to side,
Brigit lengthened her stride until she stood before the door with
the silhouette of a cat painted in black on it. Raising her hand
holding the briefcase, she knocked twice and waited. Another chill
found its way down her spine and this time she turned to look down
the alley behind her. The feeling of invisible eyes had settled on
her, watching her intently enough to cause her to stiffen in the
unconscious preparation for a fight.

“You’re here!”

Brigit turned and found Rachel standing in
the doorway. Her costume’s bright orange head dress was waving
wildly in the gentle evening breeze.

“What are you supposed to be?” Brigit asked
as she eyed the fluffy tower of feathers that demanded the smaller
woman to move slowly lest she lose her balance.

“A Las Vegas show girl,” Rachel replied as
she slowly waved her arms and swiveled her hips. “It was Scott’s
idea. I wanted to be a beer wench, but he said that the customers
might confuse me with the real wait staff. Where’s your costume?”
She looked Brigit over, realizing that the other woman in black
jeans and motorcycle boots was dressed normally for a casual Friday
at the office.

“Right here,” Brigit replied, cocking her
head toward the long black coat she carried over her shoulder. “Are
you going to let me in? It’s a little creepy out here,” she pointed
out.

“Oh, sure, sorry. You can set your briefcase
on the bar. Bobby will watch it,” Rachel promised, motioning to the
corner. Brigit looked to her right and saw a shadow move. Two white
orbs materialized from the darkness and Brigit took a step back.
Bobby was a black man as broad as he was tall. There was barely a
line of distinction between his skin and the cuff of the neck of
the black turtleneck he had managed to squeeze over his torso.

“I’ll watch it,” Bobby promised. His voice
was a low growl that had the potential to rival Barry White.

“Thank you,” Brigit said as she set the case
on the bar.

“Bobby’s going to be our doorman. He’ll be
outside mostly unless the weather’s bad. Are you cold?” Rachel
asked as Brigit pulled the black coat from the plastic bag and
shrugged it on over the black button down she had chosen to wear
that morning. She laid the wire hanger and the wadded up bag on the
bar beside her briefcase.

“A little,” Brigit admitted even though she
knew the chill she was experiencing was from the feeling that had
overwhelmed her in the alleyway. “It’s going to be a cool night,”
she predicted as an excuse.

“So, what are
you
supposed to be?”
Rachel asked as she leaned in to examine the beadwork on the lapel
of Brigit’s coat.

“Maggie calls it my ‘pirate coat’. I just
think she has a secret fetish for swashbucklers,” Brigit
laughed.

“It’s missing something,” Rachel determined.
She reached over the bar with her left hand while raising her right
to balance the tower of feathers on her head. “Here, tie this
around your head. Then, you’ll be
dashing
,” Rachel giggled
as she passed a crimson silk scarf to her companion. “All
swashbucklers wear red somewhere.”

“Whose is this?”

It’s Scott’s,” Rachel said as she watched
Brigit tie the red scarf across her forehead and then pull out the
rubber band that held her long black hair back from her face. The
dark tresses fell easily about her shoulders.

“What’s he supposed to be tonight?”

“
Mick Jagger circa 1978
,” the smaller
woman sighed with a roll of her eyes. She stepped away from the bar
and motioned for Brigit to follow.

“Scott’s bald,” Brigit pointed out as she
began to follow her friend through the empty bar.

“You should see the wig. He looks more like
John Travolta circa 1978 than Mick Jagger.” The two women broke out
into laugher and continued the tour.

7:10 P.M.

“This is a nice place, Rach, but I need to
get going. I promised Maggie I’d be home by seven-thirty,” Brigit
explained as they descended the stairs from the VIP floor. She slid
the borrowed red scarf from her brow and passed it to Rachel as
they walked across the main floor toward the door. Brigit’s dark
hair fell even further onto her shoulders, framing her face in rich
ebony.

“I understand,” Rachel sighed. “Thank you for
coming by. Maybe next time you’ll see us with some business. Call
me. I’ll be sure your name is on the VIP list,” she promised.

“Maybe,” Brigit laughed, “but I’m usually
getting ready for bed by nine. Have a great first night,” she
wished her friend as they hugged. Rachel suddenly reached for the
towering head dress as it began to sway dangerously, causing them
both to start laughing again.

Brigit was still laughing as she let herself
out and glanced at her watch. She knew she’d be lucky if she were
able to catch a cab in the next five minutes. Perhaps it would save
her from too harsh a lecture from Maggie as she readied herself for
the carnival. Luck was rarely on her side though…

The street was empty from her viewpoint at
the end of the alley. Darkness had firmly settled over the city and
Brigit shivered once more before striding down the alley. It still
felt as if she were being watched by the invisible eyes; but she
didn’t have the time to thoroughly process that thought now. She
had to get home. She had to keep her promise to Maggie.

Half way down the alley, she stopped suddenly
and looked at her hands. She had forgotten her briefcase. She
didn’t remember seeing Bobby at the bar when she left; but then,
she hadn’t seen him sitting there when she had entered either.

“
Shit
,” she cursed as she spun on her
heel and began the path back to the door with the black cat painted
on it.

She was ten feet away when she heard the
whoosh of the air over her head. Before she could raise her eyes to
view the source, she felt the weight strike the top of her head.
The stress knot Maggie had been trying to work out of her neck for
a week suddenly popped like a rubber band snapping. The pain of it
dropped Brigit to her knees and she felt herself fighting to
control the urge to puke. She closed her eyes against the white
lights beginning to flash behind them in rapid sequence. The broken
glass scattered across the cement was biting into her palms as she
pressed against the ground to maintain an upright position. Slowly,
Brigit leaned forward and rested her forehead against the cement,
gasping hard for breath…

7:12 P.M.

Rachel scanned the empty room around her and
smiled. They had been preparing for this night for months.
Halloween Night, she thought, was the best night they could have
hoped for. Fliers had been passed out all over town. If she hadn’t
given her notice earlier that morning, she was sure she would have
been fired for using the company’s resources to pursue personal
endeavors. The rest of the staff was due to arrive at any moment.
It was going to be a good night…

The door opened to the left and Bobby’s huge
frame blocked the stark light that burned from within the room.

“Bathroom okay, Bob?” she asked jokingly.

“A little small if you ask me,” Bobby
replied. “Where’s your friend?”

“She left.”

“Did she get her briefcase?”

Rachel glanced over her shoulder and cursed.
The case was still sitting where Brigit had left it, along with the
wadded plastic bag and hanger she had taken her coat from. Her head
dress toppled off its perch to the floor as she quickly reached for
the black leather case and ran for the door.

7:13 P.M.

“Brigit, open your eyes, darling…”

Slowly, Brigit let out her breath and began
to focus on the gentle voice that seemed close to her ear. Her eyes
opened, but she could only see the cement before her. The pain had
subsided, but the nausea was still present.

“That’s a good girl,” the voice cooed as she
slowly began to lift her head from the cement. “The sickness will
pass,” the voice assured her.

It was a man’s voice that spoke to her. A man
with an accent. British? Irish? Scottish? She couldn’t tell at the
moment. She didn’t really care though. Slowly, she flexed her neck,
rolling it from side to side. The stress knot was definitely gone.
She’d have to remember to tell Maggie to just knock her head off
next time.

“What the hell did you hit me with?” She
asked as she turned to look for the source of the voice. Her vision
was taking its time in focusing.

“I didn’t hit you,” he replied softly.

“Where are you?” Brigit questioned as she
finished loosening up her neck and tried to hurry the focus of her
gaze.

“Beside you,” the voice replied.

Slowly, Brigit turned her head to the left
and saw him leaning against the brick wall. His arms were folded
patiently across his chest.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted with a faint
smile. He wore a black suit over a white button down shirt. His
thin tie, neatly knotted, was as black as his suit. Brigit looked
him over for a half a second, trying to remember if she should know
him.

“Who are you?” she finally asked as she tried
to stand. Another wave of nausea began to churn in her stomach.
“
Oh
,” she groaned before reaching out to steady herself
against the wall to her right.

“You might take it easy there, love,” the man
in black advised. “That was quite a blow you took.” His accent had
a lilt to it, she noted; but she was still not immediately
concerned with his origin. At the moment, she was more concerned
with losing the late lunch she had finally found the time to
eat.

“I’m surprised it didn’t kill me. What the
hell hit me?”

“That.”

The man pointed with a long, slender finger
to an object laying a couple of feet away. It was manhole cover.
Brigit was aware how heavy those could be.

“Where the hell did
that
come
from?”

The man pointed up and instinctively,
Brigit’s eyes followed. Standing on the rooftop, six stories up,
she saw a bald man peering over the edge. His face was a deathly
shade of white, as if he were looking at a sight so horrible it
would damn his soul forever. Something about him, though, caused
Brigit to think he was anything but a man. The black robes
fluttering in the evening breeze only lent more weight to her last
thought as she gazed up at him.

“By the way, love,” the man leaning against
the wall cut in through her thoughts, “it did kill you.”

Brigit spun to face him just as she saw the
door to The Black Cat open from the corner of her eye. Rachel
emerged; Brigit’s briefcase was in her hand. Brigit turned quickly
and watched as her friend stopped short. Then, the screaming
began.

“Why is she screaming?” Brigit asked.

“I think it might be best if we go somewhere
else to talk,” the man suggested as he pushed himself away from the
wall. He took a second to button his suit coat before offering his
arm to Brigit.

“WHO ARE YOU?” Brigit demanded as she jumped
back from his reach.

“My name is John Blackwick. Please, I think
it would be best if we left this place,” he suggested again.

“No, I have to let her know I’m all right,”
Brigit argued. Rachel’s sobs were reaching through to her brain
now. She turned to go to her friend and tripped, falling to the
cement once more. She turned her head to look at what had caused
her to fall and caught her breath up short. She could feel the
glass shards cutting new slits into her palms. Brigit pushed past
the pain as her eyes focused on the grisly sight now gripping her
attention.

“Darling, I hate to point out this small
fact; but, you are most definitely
not
all right,” John said
firmly.

“This is a bad dream,” Brigit decided out
loud as she scrambled to her feet. Quickly, she turned and began to
walk down the alley toward the street. She had to get out of there.
Maggie was waiting for her. They had a date tonight, all-be-it,
handing out candy to children harbored at the women’s shelter.
Tomorrow was a celebration. She had to get home to Maggie.

“Where are you going?” John called after
her.

“Home, to my wife,” Brigit replied as she
looked at her watch. It was only twelve minutes past seven. She
still had time to meet Maggie at the apartment before they were due
at the shelter. If she was lucky enough to catch a cab, she would
be spared Maggie’s ire.

“Really? How do you expect to do that Brigit
Malone?” John called. She detected the note of sarcasm in his
voice, but she refused to answer him. Three empty taxis were coming
her way. Desperately, Brigit threw her arm in the air to signal her
need. Behind them, she could see the flashing lights of an
ambulance flying down the avenue. Brigit waved frantically at the
approaching taxis. The wail of the siren was growing louder,
piercing her ears, hurting her head. She looked over her shoulder
at the scene in the alley behind her.