A Soul to Take by Amber Fisher

Author:Amber Fisher [Fisher, Amber]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amber Fisher

Chapter 9

October 31st, the Other Side

The Great Beyond is a misnomer. I’ve made it sound as though it’s one giant, unified whole, but really it’s a collection of smaller lands: the Near Shore (nicknamed Arrivals), the Far Shore, the Cradle of Life, and Departures are the more popular of these. There are other, smaller provinces, but I seldom have reason to venture out to them.

As a young reaper, I once made the mistake of abandoning my charge at the Near Shore without accompanying him to the Far Shore. I returned to Earth without completing the transaction, because I didn’t know any better. I paid for that mistake dearly. My charge somehow stumbled out of Arrivals, where he was supposed to reunite with his friends and loved ones who had gone before, and ended up in Departures where new souls get prepped for delivery to Earth. The Virago had been furious with me when she’d found him being stuffed into a vehicle for deployment by a stork who should have known better.

I’ll never forget the embarrassment I felt as the Virago lashed out at me, hurling every insulting name in the book in my direction. It was unfair of her; my first real mentor had been a drunk who hadn’t adequately trained me before I was allowed to carry my first proper soul into the afterlife. It was a lesson that wounded me for a long time.

But it’s also why I know there’s a way to get quickly from Arrivals to Departures. And I’m counting on that today.

The Near Shore is a beach that makes up the western edge of the Great Beyond. It flickers into view as I begin my slow descent, a ripple of anxiety coursing through my veins. This is where the rubber meets the road. All my scheming and plotting will be for nothing if I can’t make this work.

At last, I reach the sandy beach, landing softly amid a crowd of newly dead. Thankfully, I don’t see the Virago anywhere, and I breathe a sigh of cautious relief at my good luck. I open my claw to release the fireman’s soul, excitement stirring in my belly. This is my favorite part of the journey, when the newly dead appears as his true self. Upon death, the soul sheds the clothing it died in, and it reappears on the Near Shore in whatever outfit represents who it believes itself to be. It’s pretty entertaining, actually. The apparel really runs the gamut. I’ve seen new arrivals in everything from quinceñera dresses to scuba gear.

The fireman is dressed in black pants and a crisp white shirt. All around us, the newly dead pour into the arms of those who have gone before. Mothers embrace children; husbands fawn over wives.

But the fireman stands alone, watching.

I sidle up to him slowly, not wanting to startle him. Up close, I see that confusion isn’t the only emotion on his face; there’s something wistful there as well. But as he watches an old

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