Death is a Girl

Chapter 22: Totally Getting My Mourn On

Emma stood with hands on her hips, giving Morrigan a pointed stare despite the ever present quirk at the corner of her lips. Emma was her longest friend, and most of Morrigan’s other friendships could be traced back to this one girl. Morrigan had been sitting alone some time in middle school, and Emma invited her into her group and ever since then she’d often run up to her in the halls, would invite her places, and sat next to her in some of their classes. Despite all this, Morrigan had kept her at a cool distance, as was the case with everyone else in her life.

“H-hey,” Morrigan chuckled awkwardly. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re out getting lunch,” Emma said, raising an eyebrow at her. Morrigan realized even if they couldn’t see her ghostly white skin and hair, the way she was dressed was well outside of the Morrigan they knew. “So what happened to you anyway?”

“Oh uh, I don’t know, just trying something new,” Morrigan chuckled.

“Um… I meant Jamie’s party,” Emma said drly. “You never showed up.”

“Oh… right… there was…” she glanced at Death. “Death… there was… a death in my family.” Of course, the only person who had died that night was Morrigan herself.

“Oh!” Emma winced and folded her hands. “I’m so sorry! You look so pale too… was it someone you were close with?”

“Uh… yeah, you could say that.” She scratched her collar and shifted her eyes.

Emma’s face softened, her mock-interrogator demeanor replaced by concern. “I’m really sorry. We had no idea. Are you okay?”

“Yup, hanging in there,” Morrigan said, putting a thumb up. This wasn’t the first time she lied about some crucial life events… but this definitely felt a step too far.

“Hm… If there’s anything we can do...”

Morrigan shook her head, forcing a small smile. “Thanks, but I’m dealing with it. Just needed some time alone, you know?”

Lisa chimed in, “Totally understand. Guess that explains the black clothing too…”

“Ah—yeah,” Morrigan sighed. “Totally getting my mourn on over here.”

Emma gave an unhumored, compassionate smile. “Well if you need anything, let me know. Do you think you can give me a call later tonight?”

Morrigan opened her mouth to respond, then remembered the last she saw of her phone was in the graveyard, after Pony-boy started chasing her. It was one more thing that never make it out of the graveyard that night.

“Right… I actually lost my phone.”

“Darn. One sec.” Emma adjusted her purse in front of herself and started going through it. She eventually produced a pen and an old recite, then used the table to jot down her number. “Here, make sure you give me a call when you can.” Emma smiled as she handed it to her. “Seriously, don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“Yeah, I won’t be. Thanks.” She felt like such a liar.

“You know,” Alex began. “We’re just going to be hanging out here for the next few hours. If you’re not too busy, want to join us?”

Morrigan took in the suggestion. A rip in her heart wanting nothing more than to accept that offer. To not have to think about the next person she was supposed to go kill. To spend the day hanging out with her friends, trying on clothes, laughing, gossiping about school. She could get all the dirty details about the party she missed and, if only this last time, feel like things could be normal again.

But… she couldn’t go back to any of that. She knew enough to know that life belonged to another Morrigan. Her friends only thought they were talking to that Morrigan. Without Death’s magic hiding her true appearance, their reactions to her would be completely different right now.

“Thanks, but… there’s just too much going on right now.” She forced a smile. “I really appreciate it, though.”

Emma nodded, an expression of understanding. “Okay, just know we’re here for you. Make sure you give me a call when you can.”

“Yeah, I will,” Morrigan said, though she was pretty sure that was a lie.

She then watched as her friends turned to leave, their conversation slowly fading into the background noise of the mall. She glanced at Death, who had been silently observing the exchange.

“Let’s go,” she murmured, standing up.

***

Outside the mall, she searched for her next client as they walked into the parking lot.

Margerette Princhert, age seventy seven, Bellevue Mall parking lot. 3:47pm.

Death raised a bony hand from his sleeve and pointed, and there Morrigan saw her. An old woman carrying a comedically large cake. “Is that her?” Morrigan asked.

“Surely.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s about to die,” Morrigan said. Looking around, she was already past the road in front of the mall so it didn’t make sense she would get hit by a car or something like that. Then a darker thought occurred… a robbery? She started scanning between the cars as she and Death stalked the unsuspecting victim.

Then, the woman’s steps suddenly slowed. She paused, looked down, and seemed to breathe heavily. Then, her steps quickened, panic clear on her face.

“What’s happening?” Morrigan asked.

“Heart attack, it seems.”

She got to a car and began to lift the cake, but her arms became weak, and instead of depositing the cake on top of the car, she planted it against the windshield as she fell. The box slid along the door, coming open, and falling face down on the asphalt next to the old woman who was now clutching her chest.

Morrigan ran over, her human instincts still telling her to help. Had there been a phone in her pocket, she would have reached for it without thinking.

By the time they approached her, the woman’s body lay still.

Morrigan knelt down, her role as a reaper wrestling with her human impulses to help. The cake, now a ruined mess, seemed almost symbolic of the shattered moment.

“Is there anything we can do?” Morrigan asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Death, standing tall and still beside her, shook his head slowly. “Her time has come. If you would like to speak with her, you may remove her soul from her body first.”

It must have been the interaction with her friends, but the rhythm of doing her job as a reaper felt broken. She was snapped back to the cold reality of her new existence and what role she played.

Don’t forget this, she thought as she slipped off her glove, looking at the old woman’s face. There wasn’t exactly a discernible expression there, but the lack of one told another story. A person’s thoughts shaped their face—lacking that, is what it meant to be dead. Yet, inside that lifeless vessel, there was a soul. A soul that did not expect her last moments in this world to be this way… to be laying still in a parking lot, with nobody even knowing she was there. Eventually, someone would walk by and find her, and her body would be taken to a morgue. Whoever that cake was for would eventually find out their loved one is dead. Whatever happy event they planned for the day, was completely ruined.

Morrigan’s hand froze, inches from touching her arm. She could feel Death watching her. Observing what action she would take next.

Morrigan thought back to her own death. How everything was eventually blank… her first moments in the crypt, she didn’t feel anything. She didn’t think anything. There was just nothingness. It wasn’t until some time later that she was able to see the light under the door of the crypt and watch it fade into dusk and then pitch black night.

“Can she see me right now?” Morrigan asked. The frozen face was staring at her, after all.

“She can not,” Death answered.

Morrigan’s hand tensed slightly, and her fingers fell away.

“Why not?”

“It tends to vary from soul to soul. Sometimes they remain dormant for a time.”

“Other times that's not the case?”

“Indeed. Particularly when the body is disturbed, but even an undisturbed corpse will have its soul awakened eventually. If it is not reaped, it eventually escapes its vessel and becomes a wandering spirit.”

Morrigan sighed and stood, looking at the palm of her ungloved hand. “What’s it like when they go to heaven?”

“Truthfully, I don't precisely know,” Death said. “For all the souls I’ve helped pass on, not once have I gotten a true glimpse at what comes after.”

Morrigan put her glove back on and reached for her scythe. Upon feeling the polished wood on her fingertips, she summoned it into existence. She held it for a moment, staring down at the woman, and after only a moment of thought, she swung it down into the center of her chest.

As always, there was no resistance, and as Morrigan brought the scythe back to her side she observed the whisp of the old woman’s spirit rise until it eventually dissipated.

Morrigan planted the scythe at her side, still staring up at the sky as a cool wind blew strands of white hair in front of her face.

“You chose not to speak with her,” Death stated.

“I was thinking… this is a sad way to go. Knowing that her body would lie there, unnoticed for who knows how long. I just wanted to give her some dignity and let her move on quicker. Not like me… when I died… knowing I was nothing but a forgotten corpse.” She exhaled heavily.

Death put his hand on her shoulder. “Your death was unseen, and I apologize for not being there sooner… and for not being able to help you.”

After a pause, she asked, “Is there really nothing you could have done?”

“Your soul was tainted and no longer accepted by heaven. So the best I could do is give you a place in this world as a reaper.”

Behind them, there was the sound of a car door closing, but when Morrigan turned she didn’t see anyone.

After a moment, Morrigan looked back at the body. “So do we call someone now to come and collect her, or leave her for someone to find?”

“I’m sure she’ll be found soon… the soul is our business; what happens with the body afterwards is something we shouldn’t interfere with.”

“But that just seems so cold.”

“Perhaps… but I suppose it’s a matter of perspective. To me, a body without a soul is like a book without any words—merely a vessel devoid of its essence.”

Morrigan sighed and walked away. She was finding Death’s philosophical quotes tiring all of a sudden. Sometimes, he knew just the thing to say to help ease her struggles, and shed light on her doubts. Other times, he just seemed cold and detached. For someone so interested in human life, how could he say something so careless? She was probably someone’s grandma! Someone’s wife, and mother.

After getting back in the car and going down the road, Morrigan slipped the receipt with Emma’s number out of her pocket and stared at it. “Hey, do you have a phone at your house?”

“I’ll do you one better; I’ll purchase a new cellphone for you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It is fine. Money is no issue for me.”

Morrigan thought of the wad of cash her mother had given her, which could buy her a cheap phone, and then the monthly payments could be handled by her fraudulent credit card. Though, she hadn’t checked the balance since her makeup shopping spree but knew it was probably pretty low by now.

Reluctantly, she said, “Thanks,” and slipped her list out of her sleeve. She only had one more name for the day.

“We should be finished within the hour,” Death said. “Then I’ll help you with a new cellphone, and we can head back to my house… that is if there isn’t anything else you’d like to do while we’re out?”

Morrigan stared out the window as he made his way to the main road. Somewhere in the distance, she heard an ambulance siren and wondered if Margerette Princhert were found already. She watched the mall parking lot until Death rode up an exit ramp, and it disappeared from sight.

“No, nothing comes to mind.”