Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross by B.L. Newport

something we can simply
shake off. When a dark spirit manages to do some serious harm, the
effects are more like a poisonous infection. Eventually, it runs
its course and we return to normal with only the memory of the
event. The length of time one is out of commission depends on the
severity of the injury,” John explained as he picked up his tea and
blew gently across the surface. Brigit knew it was out of habit
that he did this. After all, he was just as dead as she was.
    “Has anyone ever not survived the
injury?” Brigit pressed further. John pursed his lips in thought.
He wouldn’t lie to her. She had to have answers to her questions if
she was to evolve.
    “There have been a few that have met their
final demise without knowing their true fates. The incidences are
far and few between, however.”
    “Where did their souls go?”
    John shrugged as he sipped from his tea. He
had only heard the tales from the Reapers that had been present.
The souls that had met their ends without passing through a door
had merely disappeared on the winds of Limbo, carried away to that
place where there was no beginning and no end for all eternity. The
shrug seemed to satisfy Brigit’s curiosity for the moment.
    “So, tell me about the assignments,” Brigit
said as she finally picked up her own coffee and blew across the
surface. It was a habit as well, of course.
    “Right now, everything is a bloody mess,”
John said. Brigit heard the note of frustration in his voice.
“Nothing is as organized as it used to be and they keep adding up
everyday. Especially with the wars that have been going on. It’s
senseless, all this fighting, if you ask me; but, I’m not here to
offer opinions – am I?”
    It was rhetorical question, Brigit knew. She
kept her silence and waited for the rest of the explanation.
    “Anyway,” he continued, “it’s not as if we’re
on a time schedule to accomplish the work. We have all of eternity.
It’s always been a matter of kind consideration that we work in a
timely manner. It is a principle I’ve always supported. It’s just
that, right now, I’m so back logged…”
    “The Sarah McDowell’s of the world happen too
often,” Brigit interrupted.
    “Exactly,”
    “So, what is the plan to fix this?” Her mind
was beginning to work, searching for the plan to clean up the mess.
Being adept at organization was one of her many fortes, after all.
It was what had made her such a successful assistant to her
employers when she was alive.
    “I think, logically speaking, it would be
wise to organize the files currently waiting.”
    “What about the ones coming in daily? I
assume they do come daily…”
    “They do. One of the problems to that
particular issue is The Bailey,” John sighed.
    “What is The Bailey ?” Brigit asked.
She remembered John mentioning the name before.
    “The Bailey is the actual entity that
delivers the mortal to the moment of their passing, separating the
soul from the body, if you will. He was present the day you died,”
John explained. “Right now, he is on the loose and burdening my
work load even more. He is unaware that the firm has restructured , and he is continuing on with his duties
without instruction. I was trying to collar him the day we met
because I really need for him to start reporting in for daily
briefings. He’s part of the reason I didn’t cross you that
day . I didn’t have your file. I didn’t know your fate. I only
knew your name because I heard him chanting it like some kind of
mantra until he completed his task. I’d been chasing him for days
at that point,” John explained. The frustration seemed to mount in
his voice as he spoke. “If it weren’t for the Bailey, people would
go on living forever. At the rate some people continue to produce
offspring, there would eventually be no room left on Earth if it
weren’t for the Bailey. He ensures the continuous cycles of life
and death.”
    Brigit searched her memory of the day she had
died.