A Dirty Job (Grim Reaper 1)

"I'm sorry," Audrey said. "I had no idea he'd stay that long. "

"I don't understand why you let him in in the first place," Esther said, creaky but on her feet now.

"So he could satisfy his curiosity. See for himself. "

"And where did you get that Elizabeth Sarkoff name?"

"My second-grade teacher. It was the first thing I could think of. "

"Well, I guess you fooled him. I don't know how to thank you. "

"He'll be back. You know that, right?" Audrey said.

"I hope not too soon," Esther said. "I really need to visit the powder room. "

Where is it, lover?" hissed the Morrigan from the grate on Haight Street, near where Charlie was trying to flag down a cab. "You're slipping, Meat," said the hellish chorus.

Charlie looked around to see if anyone else had heard, but passersby seemed very intent on their own conversations, or if alone, were staring intently at a point only twelve feet in front of them on the sidewalk, both strategies to avoid eye contact with the panhandlers and crazy people who lined the sidewalk. Not even the crazy people seemed to notice.

"Fuck off," Charlie said, in a furious whisper at the curb. "Fucking harpies. "

"Oh, lover, this teasing is so delicious. The little one's blood will be so delicious!"

The young homeless guy sitting just down the curb looked up at Charlie. "Dude, get the clinic to up your lithium and they'll go away. It worked for me. "

Charlie nodded and gave the guy a dollar. "Thanks, I'll look into that. "

He'd have to call Jane in Arizona in the morning and find out how far the shadow had moved down the mesa, if it had moved. Why would what he did or didn't do in San Francisco affect what was happening in Sedona? All this time he'd been trying to convince himself that it wasn't about him, and now it appeared that it very much was about him. The Luminatus will rise in the City of Two Bridges, Vern had said. What kind of dependable prophecy can you get from a guy named Vern, anyway? (Come on down to Vern's Discount Prophecy - The Nostradamus with the Low-Price Promise. ) It was absurd. He had to keep going forward, doing his part, and doing his best to collect the soul vessels that came to him. And if he didn't, well, the Forces of Darkness would rise and rule over the world. So what. Bring it on, sewer hoes! Big deal.

But his inner Beta Male, the gene that had kept his kind alive for three million years, spoke up: Forces of Darkness ruling the world? Okay, that would be bad, it said.

She so loved the smell of Pine-Sol," said the third woman that day to claim to have been Charlie's mother's best friend. The funeral hadn't been so bad, but now there was a potluck in the clubhouse of a nearby gated senior community where Buddy had lived before he moved in with Charlie's mom. The couple had returned there often to play cards and socialize with Buddy's old crew.

"Did you get some sloppy joe?" asked best friend number three. Despite the hundred-degree heat, she wore a pink sweatsuit emblazoned with rhinestone poodles and carried a nervous little black poodle under her arm everywhere she went. The dog licked her potato salad while she was distracted by talking to Charlie. "I don't know if your mother ever ate sloppy joe. Only thing I ever saw her take in was an old-fashioned. She did enjoy her cocktails. "

"Yes, she did," Charlie said. "And I think I'm going to go enjoy one myself, right now. "

Charlie had flown into Sedona that morning after spending the night in San Francisco trying to find the two overdue soul vessels. Although he couldn't find a burial notice for Esther Johnson, the pretty brunette woman at her house had told him that she had been interred the day after he'd first gone to the house in the Haight, and he assumed that the soul vessel had been, once again, buried with her. (Was the brunette's name Elizabeth? Of course it was Elizabeth, he was fooling himself to even pretend to forget. Beta Males do not forget the names of pretty women. Charlie could remember the name of the centerfold of the first Playboy he'd ever swiped from the shelves in his dad's shop. He even remembered that her turnoffs were bad breath, mean people, and genocide, and resolved that he would never have, be, or commit any of those things, just in case he ran into her sometime when she was casually sunning her breasts on the hood of a car. ) There was no trace of the other woman, Irena Posokovanovich, who was supposed to have died days ago. No notice, no records at hospitals, no one living in her house. It was as if she'd evaporated, and taken her soul vessel with her. He had a couple more weeks to get to the third name in his date book, but he wasn't sure what he was going to have to deal with to get to it. Darkness was rising.

Someone beside him said, "Small talk doesn't really get any smaller than when you've lost a loved one, huh?"

Charlie turned toward the voice, surprised to see Vern Glover, diminutive Death Merchant, munching some coleslaw and ranch beans.

"Thanks for coming," Charlie said automatically.

Vern waved off the thanks with his plastic fork. "You saw the shadow?"

Charlie nodded. When he'd gotten to his mother's house this morning, the shadow of the mesa had reached his mother's front yard, and the calls of the carrion birds that churned in its edges were deafening. "You didn't tell me that no one else could see it. I called my sister from San Francisco to check the progress, but she didn't see anything. "

"Sorry, they can't see it - at least as far as I've ever been able to tell they can't. It was gone for five days. It came back this morning. "

"When I came back?"

"I guess. Did we cause this? Doughnuts and coffee and it's the end of the world?"

"I missed two souls back home," Charlie said, smiling at a gentleman in burgundy golf wear who held his hand to his heart in sympathy as he passed them.

"Missed? Did the - what did you call them - the sewer harpies get them?"