Death is a Girl

Morrigan red eyes peered out from under the hood. Her white hair, disheveled from the climb, framed her face, adding to her otherworldly appearance. The scythe in her lap seemed to absorb the light from the space around it, casting its own eerie glow.

Mr. Roy, still recovering from his initial shock, took a step back. His eyes were fixed on the scythe, a mix of fear and fascination in his gaze. “What... what are you?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Morrigan rose from the desk. She stood before him, at least a head shorter than the older man but her presence still commanding. “I am a reaper, Mr. Roy. It’s my duty to guide souls to their next destination.”

Roy’s face contorted with a range of emotions—disbelief, denial, and finally, a resigned understanding. “I... this is…” He shook his head. “This isn’t a joke, is it? You’re being serious?”

“I’m afraid so.”

He nodded, eyes casting away from her as he seemed to process the situation. “No… no, this can't be right. A reaper? Such things don’t exist.”

“And yet here I am,” Morrigan spoke the words, simultaneously feeling like she sounded kind of cool but also kicking herself for thinking that way.

Come on, get serious, Morrigan! she chided herself.

Roy paced a few steps, his hands running through his hair in a mix of frustration and disbelief. “This is absurd,” he muttered as he made it to the window and stared out at the city below. “I have meetings, projects... I can’t just leave everything. There’s so much left to do.”

Morrigan watched him, the way he gazed out the window. He lived the life of a powerful important man, probably spending many days staring out the window just like this. He didn’t seem like a particularly bad guy, and the fact her scythe was blue meant he was going to heaven. So whatever he had to do to become this powerful man, he apparently didn’t do it with evil in his heart.

Still, witnessing the initial denial, the struggle to accept the inevitable… It was hard to watch. Until now, all her 'clients' had already been past the point of no return. This was different. “I understand this is difficult to accept. But life has its cycles, and yours has reached its natural conclusion.” She tried to think of what Death would say. “You’ve accomplished a lot in this life and should be proud.”

His eyes seemed to be searching for something. Morrigan wasn’t sure if he was really seeing the view out the window or not. “But... why now?”

“I don’t know if I can give an answer that will satisfy you. But it’s not a punishment or anything. It's just… well, it is what it is.”

He looked over his shoulder. For a moment, she thought he was looking at her, but realized his gaze was drifting past her to his desk.

“Hey,” Morrigan held out her hand. “Take my hand, and I promise it will all be over. It’ll be completely painless.”

“Oh god…” His face broke, his hand coming up to hide a sudden sob. “My kids… Jason! The last thing he’ll remember of me is us fighting. We’ve been estranged for years and now…” He shook his head. “Damn it, I’m such a fool. You tried to give me a chance, didn’t you? Please, can I still do that? Can I call my son one last time?”

Morrigan hesitated. It couldn’t hurt… right?

“No,” Noir said. “Morrigan, don’t make me explain this to you again. This time, I will interfere if you don’t do your duty.”

“What?” Morrigan hissed, turning to look at the cat. His eyes glowed red, threateningly, and for a moment, Morrigan understood more clearly what it is like to have the veil of perception lifted. He still looked like Noir, but she didn’t see him as a cat. She saw him as the demonic thing that had fought to protect her in the negative space. “Interfere? I thought you were only supposed to guide me.”

“Though I am meant to interfere with the living as little as possible, it is well within my power to end this human’s life. Since he is on your list, and I’m doing it to protect order, I would be acting within the parameters of my role.” Noir’s voice was cold.

Morrigan felt a chill run down her spine. She looked back at Mr. Roy, who was watching them with a mix of confusion and fear. Having this argument in front of him seemed like a sort of cruelty on her part.

Morrigan bit her lip, her mind racing. “Mr. Roy… I-I’m sorry, it’s just that—”

Her words were cut off as he suddenly sprinted past her, one hand coming out to shove her out of the way.

“MORRIGAN NOW!” Noir roared.

She gripped her scythe as she regained her balance and twisted around, seeing Roy fall over the desk, his hand reaching for the call button.

She raised her Scythe, but her first step hesitated.

A black tendril erupted from Noir’s body.

“Securi-Aaaaaagggh!”

Morrigan froze, her scythe held up over her shoulder, but it loosened in her grip until it was slack at her side. Her eyes traced Noir’s feline form, the black thing that extended from him like a long, black needle as it pierced the center of Micheal Roy’s chest. There was a bit of white skull peering through the fur between Noir’s ears, and as the tendril retracted, crawling flesh closed around the bone, quickly making Noir whole again.

Roy’s finger was on the call button, but his body collapsed without another word, though there was no blood.

“W-why?” Morrigan gasped, tears forming in her eyes.

The speaker on his desk clicked. “Mr. Roy, what is it? What’s wrong!? We’re sending help!”

Morrigan couldn’t move, and she watched as Roy’s translucent arm lifted from the physical one that was splayed over the desk. Roy’s spirit rose from the now lifeless body, the face of the spirit tight with anguish as it looked around.

“I-I…” Morrigan’s hands shook on the scythe.

Noir’s voice was thick with urgency. “Quickly, Morrigan, there is no time! Reap him!”

Mr. Roy’s spirit looked at her, his eyes glowing with a sickly yellow similar to that of the hollow she had watched Death reap the day before.

“Mr. Roy, I’m—” she tried to say some last words, but any composure she had left her as Mr. Roy’s spirit fell to his knees.

The spirit let out a deafening, inhuman screech of pain, horror, and regret, as the absolute terror of his final moments in this life crashed against Morrigan’s eardrums.

“I’m sorry!” Morrigan screamed, raising her scythe. “I’m so sorry!” She swung it through him and he disappeared, his wails lingering a moment longer after his spirit dissipated.

In the eerie silence that followed, Morrigan stood there, shocked, the scythe dissipating in a wisp of blue flame as it hit the floor. Her heart felt like it was being seized by the overwhelming guilt. She had witnessed many passings this week, but this... this was different. This was a soul torn away, not guided, and the weight of that realization was crushing.

“Morrigan we must go. NOW!”

“He was scared, Noir! He was terrified!” Morrigan’s voice broke as she spoke. “I could have... I should have...”

They could hear a series of footsteps rushing down the hallway.

“No time for that now!” Noir’s voice was urgent as he jumped down from the desk, his flesh melting into a pool of shadow at his feet as he came to Morrigan’s side. The shadow pooled around Morrigan as a black aura lifted from it, covering her body. She stared at her hands as the room disappeared into blackness.

She heard the door burst open, then footsteps filled the room. Voices echoed, calling out to Mr. Roy, but they were muffled as if coming from a distance. Noir’s magic was at work, making Morrigan and himself invisible to those entering the room.

“N-Noir…?” Morrigan whispered, her voice detached. Looking around, she didn’t see him, only vague silhouettes through the shadows that surrounded her.

“Get up, walk to the door, and don’t make a sound,” Noir’s voice whispered to her.

Numbly, Morrigan obeyed, navigating past the bewildered security guards, and out of the room.

As they made it down the hallway, the darkness receded. Morrigan looked back at the office door, her heart heavy, and through the corner of her eye, she noticed Noir’s skeletal form alongside her. The shadows were being sucked into him like he was some strange three-dimensional drain.

“If you’re going to break down,” Noir spoke with an exhausted gasp, “at least wait until we are in the stairwell.”

She did as she was told, moving mechanically. The sound of Mr. Roy’s last horrible wail echoed in her ears. When she made it through the door, she collapsed into the wall and sat. Noir, in his demonic, skeletal form sat on its haunches as the last of the shadows receded back into him, flesh sliding, slithering, and slapping back into place. His skull was the last to be covered, red eyes glowing in the wide empty sockets until he was fully reformed.

“N-Noir, I—” Her muddled apology was interrupted when Noir lost his composure and fell to his side, breathing heavily. He looked like an ordinary, though sick and defeated, cat.

“Noir! Are you okay!?” Morrigan gasped, hands hesitant to touch him. His chest pumped up and down with his heavy breaths.

He winked one red eye open and it shifted back to yellow. “I will be… just… give me a moment,” he said. “That spell placed us in a pocket dimension, outside the realm where this world can physically interact with us… it is simple to use on myself, but bringing another physical body along is… difficult.”

Morrigan’s hands hovered over Noir, torn between wanting to offer comfort and fearing to cause further strain. The Noir she knew, usually so composed, now seemed vulnerable and worn.

“I’m sorry… it’s my fault. You had to do that… because of me.”

Noir slowly regained his composure, his breathing becoming more steady. He pushed himself up to sit properly, though still looked drained. “You are my charge, Morrigan. It’s my responsibility to guide and protect you. Even if it demands such exertions.”

Morrigan hugged her knees. “I screwed up again. This time… he suffered because of me. I hesitated... And then you had to step in.”

“Yes… and despite this I suspect it is not the last time you will ignore my advice.” Noir voice began to rise. “The call button was there in the room, he saw you were hesitant and distracted, and he made a choice. I saw clearly well what was soon to happen, and tried to warn you to get on with it. But you didn’t listen! You never listen!”

“It’s not easy, okay!” Her voice cracked as tears touched her eyes. “You yell at me to hurry up and kill someone, and I’m supposed to just do it without a second thought!?”

“You are a reaper!”

“Until five days ago I was a normal girl! Fuck! I-I never had to think about death, o-or demons, or any of this!”

“Be that as it may,” Noir growled. “You are a reaper now. Stand up to the duty. This is not something you step halfway through the door with. You are either doing it or you are not!”

Morrigan shot up to her feet, preparing to run down the steps but she stopped. Through her teeth she said. “I’m trying… It’s not easy but I’m trying.”

“You need to do more than try,” Noir said, his voice firm. “Your responsibility is too great. If you can not reconcile yourself with this, then perhaps it is better that you quit.”

Morrigan froze. Quitting meant limbo, the end of her existence. She had already died once, but limbo would be a more complete form of dying.

But maybe he’s right… Besides, would it be so bad?

She clenched her fist.

At least then, I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this anymore.

Noir regarded her for a moment, his expression softening. “You are learning, Morrigan. This role is not easy, nor is it meant to be. The complexity of human emotion often alludes me, so perhaps I underestimated the trouble it would cause you in reaping a client who is still alive.”

Morrigan wiped away the tears from her eyes, but she had nothing to say.

“You have two more names on your list for today. We should get moving.”

“Yeah… okay,” she whispered, then took a deep breath, steadying herself.

Going down the steps was much easier than coming up. After exiting the stairwell and stepping back into the world of the living, Morrigan pulled out her list to go over the last two names.

Walking along the city streets, people busily hurried in both directions around her. She wondered if she would ever really get used to this.