My Soul to Reap (Archived)

Death Really Should Have Taken Thee

She was, quite literally, walking on crosses. Her heels added at least an extra two inches to her height, and the black suede boot the travelled up to her knees ended in a sturdy gold cross at the heel. A little confused, I continued my path to her face to find the rest of her cloths weren't much different. She must have been at the party, because I could think of no other reason for the outfit. Long boots that rose up her legs halfway to meet cutoff black shorts, a black leather jacket studded with spikes of gold over a pale top with a black marking across the front I couldn't make out. Her hair was two-toned black and red, cut in straight bangs and then falling in loose curls around her shoulders. She wore a deep, velvet-red lipstick, and her eyebrow was raised over dark-lined eyes. If I was in any other situation, I would be either laughing at the fashion choices or keeping my head down and hoping she didn't notice me. In my current position, I wasn't really able to do either.

"Camille?" She asked, rocking her hip to once side. There was a spark of recognition at my name, and I nodded dumbly. She just shook her head is disgust, the hand not placed on her hip holding up a smart phone and tapping into it. Even her nails were a swirl of red and black, and I shivered. There was an eery silence that hung over the atmosphere, all signs of the party gone. I was alone with a girl I didn't know, but who knew me. 

"What-" I croaked, and realized how bad of an idea talking was after the fact. She just shrugged, returning the phone to a back pocket i knew from experience wouldn't be big enough to hold it. 

"Camille Dent, twenty-one years old, death from excessive blood loss," she recited, and i were stunned into silence.

"Cammie," I corrected automatically, but the last phrase was repeating like a broken record. Death. I died. That guy killed me. There was a sudden rush of blood to my head and I pressed the heel of my palm into my eye socket.

"Yeah, blood loss is a bitch. That'll go away." All at once there's a clicking of gold heels across the pavement and I scrambled up, pitching forward but managing to catch her attention. 

"What do I do know? Who are you?" Probably not the best two questions but they seemed important. She paused, moonlight glinting off the polished crosses, and then turned military style on her heels. How she was even walking was beyond me. 

"You don't remember, do you?" It wasn't even a question, like everything else she'd told me. It was a blatant and indisputable fact. I shook my head before sorely regretting it. 

"I'm Brie. Well, Abrielle, but since we're working on a first name basis here Brie is fine." Okay, so a name to a face. I could deal with that. "And as for what you do now, well, go kill the bastard who killed you." She shrugged like it made the most sense out of anything anyone ever had spoken to me. I still shook my head, something I was beginning to realize I did a lot. 

"Am I like a zombie now? You said I died, right?" She laughed, a short mocking sound that made me not want to ask any more questions. But my mental capacity was still not at 100% and apparently my death was a fact I was just going to accept. 

"Not a zombie, more like a dead girl walking. I was supposed to take your soul but hey, Aryan's a dick and you seem like you can handle yourself." I held my hands up. Way you much information in too short of an expanse of time for my addled brain to process. She sighed, crossing her arms and I saw the glint of more sharp metal bracelets around her wrists. I couldn't say I was surprised.

"One thing at a time, please," the weakness in my voice made it seem more like a plea than it was supposed to be. "You were supposed to take my soul?" The look she gave me was the pure embodiment of "it's a good thing you're pretty". 

"Yes, Cherie, that's kind of what Reapers do." She tapped a heel impatiently. Ignoring the apparently random insertion of French, I focused instead on the bomb that just got dropped. 

"Like, grim reaper?" It was probably a very stupid thing to say, but she indulged me and nodded anyways. 

"In charge of collecting souls, yep. Sir ass-hole that killed you is Aryan Gray, a vampire, and he is a huge idiot who you should go take revenge on. Goodbye." With that she turned and started walking away, but control was starting to come back into my limbs and I managed to chase after her. 

"Wait!" I didn't know why I didn't just let this obviously crazy girl leave, but the throbbing mark on my neck was evidence enough that she was at least telling part of the truth. "Brie!" She whirled around, throwing the arm with the bracelets in front of her. I skidded to a halt, but she wasn't even looking at me. Her eyes hardened but her mouth twisted into a cruel smile. 

"You want to know what to do next?" She asked, and I nodded briskly. "Get behind me." I did as she said quickly, only seeing what she had after I'd moved. There was an arc of people, all older than the both of us, fanning out and approaching. They all looked like they were from different walks of life, a teenager in school uniform standing beside an older man in raggedy and ripped cloths. But the all moved with a singular purpose. 

"See, you aren't the zombie."  The gold metal on her wrist was moving, gravitating towards her hand. I took a step back, trying to get away from whatever insanity I had just inserted myself into. But my eyes were transfixed by the metal. It melted and dripped onto the ground right before my eyes. The gold was pulled upwards, melding into a perfectly smooth cylinder arching above Brie's head, defying every known law as it shaped itself into a cruelly twisted golden scythe. It gleamed even in the low light, and it took a second to realize that it was itself letting off light. My jaw had actually dropped open as the connection was made in my head. Reaper. Souls. Death. Scythe. And those people-

"They're the zombies," she grinned.