Souls of the Fallen

No, this is not a tale that starts with, "The day I died..."

No, this is not a story about a girl moping about her death.

And no, this is certainly not a fairytale about a girl who falls in love with an angel or a demon.

This is a story of betrayal and revenge; my story.

                                                                                              ~Lux

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"You brought a bat with you? Really?"

I weighed the heavy stick in my hands, giving it a few test swings as my mentor, Pheonix, and I walked through the crowded streets of New York. A couple of  nearby flappers shot me dirty looks when I nearly  whacked one of them in the face. "Well, yeah! I need some sort of protection."

Pheonix cocked an eyebrow. "You do not think I can keep you safe?"

"I never said that. It's mostly just in case you need a hand takin' that sucker out."

He shook his head, and pulled his black fedora lower over his curly, bronze-colored hair. "You do realize that the demon I am after might have skin stronger than steel, yes?"

"He might," I said with a shrug. "But, if that's the case," I pulled a small pistol out of my bag and flashed it at him, "POW! Right in the kisser! That should stop him!"

The blood drained from Pheonix's face. "Where did you get a gun?" he hissed, pulling me away from the crowds. "You're just a kid!"

"I, uh, found it..." I lied.

"I'm sure you did." He let out one of his infamous long, weary sighs. "Besides, guns are not useful against demons. At the most, they will laugh at your attempt to use it."

My shoulders slumped as I dug a knife out of my pocket and showed it to him. "I'm guessing this shiv won't help either..."

"No, it will not."

I walked ahead of him with a groan. "Alright, but I'm still bringing the bat."

You know, I still feel a wave of nostalgia when I remember that night back in the 1920s. But as incredible as New York was back in those days, it was still a demon hot-spot. I mean, what demon wouldn't like it there? The parties, the clubs, Broadway... I couldn't blame them for choosing such a city. Hundreds of oblivious humans walked those streets, so it was like having an all-you-can-eat-soul-buffet every night. The only reason they didn't wipe out half of New York's, and the world's, population was because they had people like me keeping them safe.

At the time, we were Soul Reapers, Pheonix and I; well, he was an official reaper. I was just tagging along to see what the job was like.

A Soul Reaper's job is to collect the soul of a dying human. But sometimes, they have to deal with demons. And when I say deal, I do mean slay. Demons steal souls of humans through contracts, seduction, torture, and manipulation; souls that should be delivered to either Paradiso or Inferno, you humans know these places as Heaven or Hell, by reapers. Once the demon is dead, it releases all the souls it has stolen and we can finally deliver them to where they belong.

Pheonix placed a hand on my shoulder. "Wait, Samantha." Before I could tell him, for the millionth time, not to call me Samantha, he closed his eyes and sniffed the air. "Do you smell that?"