Necromancer: A Novella by Lish McBride Page B

dessert, so I had to go with the lemon. Ash ordered waffles with whipped cream and strawberries, with a side of chili cheese fries. I’d blame the odd mix on her being dead, but she ate like this when she was alive.
    “Hey, Ash?”
    “Yes?” She didn’t look up from the creamers she was building into a pyramid.
    “I know you can’t really tell me, you know, about your job, but are people ever let down by you? I mean, because they don’t get actual Death killing them?”
    Ash looked up from her creamer stack. “I don’t kill anyone, Matt. Heart attacks, old age, an un-chewed hot dog-those things kill people. I’m just their guide.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Sometimes. I mean, most people are relieved to see me. Death is scary, and I’m not very intimidating. On the other hand, sometimes it takes people longer to believe that they’re dead because of it. Some people don’t care. Others have such a fixed idea-they expect the bright light and the tunnel, or pearly gates and a cloud, and I don’t look like either of those things.”
    The waitress dropped off my coffee, and I stole the top of Ash’s pyramid for my cup. I stirred slowly, watching the white of the creamer take the edge off the darkness.
    “So, no pearly gates, huh?”
    She smiled and put her chin in her hands. “I didn’t say that. I just said they weren’t expecting to see me first.”
    “You don’t find it depressing? Being Death?”
    “I already told you, I’m not Death.”
    “Fine, a psychopomp then.”
    “Actually, we’re generally called Harbingers now. Most people don’t even know what a psychopomp is, so management called a meeting and changed our titles.”
    “Wow, even when you’re dead they have boring meetings. Good to know.”
    The waitress brought out our orders, but they were out of the strawberries so Ash had to eat her waffle plain. The frazzled-looking waitress seemed apologetic, so Ash accepted her food with a “that’s all right,” and a “thanks.”
    We talked for a few minutes about nothing really: movies, books, whatever. It didn’t matter what we chatted about, it felt good to have someone to talk to. Ash had only gotten about a fourth of the way through her fries and one bite of her waffle when she jumped a little in her seat. I hadn’t even started my pie. I’d been too busy talking. Chances for me to have conversations were rare.
    Ash pulled out a BlackBerry and started typing away on it. She sighed.
    “You have to go, don’t you?”
    “I’m sorry, Matt.” She looked down regretfully at her food. “She’s early.” She gave another heavy sigh. “I didn’t even get to finish my waffles.”
    “Where do you have to go?” I asked.
    She didn’t look up.
    “It’s here?” Leave it to Ash to be pragmatic, even in choosing her waffle joints.
    She nodded. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t think-”
    “Can I come with you?”
    She blinked at me-surprised, I think.
    I knew, theoretically, what she did, but I had never seen it. I wasn’t sure I was allowed, and I’d never had interest in accompanying her before. In fact, I’d always been a little repulsed by the idea. No, not repulsed, scared. I’d like to say I was trying to face my fear, but in reality I think I just wanted to stay with her a little longer. Or maybe I couldn’t handle that Ash had a separate life I’d never seen. I felt a little guilty when I realized that, if our places had been switched, she would have asked much sooner than I had.
    “Yes,” she answered slowly. “You can come.” She rubbed her mouth and chin with her hand, an adult gesture that sat weird on her. “For the collection anyway. I can’t take you where I’m going.”
    “Okay.”
    We both slid out of the booth. I waited for a second while Ash finished typing something on her BlackBerry. Then she flipped it shut and I followed her back to the bathroom. She walked right into the ladies’ room, the yellow door swinging behind her. I paused for a second, a built-in