Love & Exorcisms | 18+ | COMPLETE |

- Chapter 38 -

I sucked in my breath, whipped around and stared at him accusingly. "He is real! I knew he was!"

"He's real enough," Damian replied with a wry smile. "Up until now, only myself and my grandmother has known that, so you must forgive me for denying you in front of Alex. The less people know of him, the better."

"But who is he?" I said. "What is he?"

"His name is Kiiji. He is a reaper. My reaper."

"Like...the Grim Reaper?"

"More like the Aggravating Reaper, but aye, like that. A being who collects the souls of the dead, although, it is not exactly like humans have portrayed it in fairytales. A reaper does not collect the souls of every human to leave this earth: they collect the ones they can catch. Or, the ones they are sold."

"Your soul was sold to him?" I exhaled a shuddering breath.

"It was. He was there to collect upon his reward, but problematically, I was not actually dead yet." He chuckled suddenly. "I'll never forget the look on his face, terrified as I was. He looked horrified. Utterly horrified. He stared at me like a cockroach under his shoe, but then...with pity. And he said simply: "Are you dying?" Of course I ran from him. I trusted no one, saw no friendly face. I hid somewhere, a closet I think. The house seemed so terribly large, and even having been living there for a time, I had never been allowed to explore its every hall. I was so frightened, I couldn't find my way to the front door. But I remember cowering among boots and coats, shivering, seeing the my own blood on my hands, feeling waves of pain from the cuts they'd made in me. And suddenly Kiiji was there, in the closet, crouched beside me. "Don't be frightened," he told me. "Dying isn't all bad. It's very peaceful, I promise." And I sobbed at him that I wasn't dying, I wasn't going to die, but couldn't he please help my mother. I was babbling. I couldn't truly put a thought together. I begged him to tell my grandmother I needed help. Begged him..." He trailed off. He tossed the soaked towel aside and said, "May I braid your hair?"

"Of...course..." I was too stunned to say much else. I was overwhelmed with emotion: for him and his pain, and for myself and the terrifying realities slowly being unveiled. He pulled my damp hair behind my shoulders and began to separate it, working slowly.

"It took me years to finally realize the gravity of what he did next," he said. "There are rules that reapers must follow, something called the First Millenia Treatise on Relations with Transdimensional Beings. I haven't a clue what all is in it. It's one of the many things he isn't allowed to tell me. But what he did that day...I don't know much about transdimensional law and punishment, but from what he's suggested his actions could cost him his existence if ever found out."

"What did he do?" I said, though I already had an idea.

"He asked for my grandmother's name. I told him...and he vanished before my eyes. My Amma told me later that she had been knitting in her chair before the fire and saw a face in the flames. The being stepped out, and crouched there before her, and he was made of coal and embers and his hair was fire. He said nothing, but a vision came to her of where I was. How fast that woman must have ridden to get to me I can scarcely imagine...because soon enough the screaming from the cellar quieted and I heard my mother stalking through the house, calling my name. I wanted to believe she was back so badly that I came out of hiding. I crept out into the open and saw my mother standing there, covered in the blood of her victim's, with the knife in her hand...and she called to me so sweetly, like she always did, and opened her arms to me..."

His voice caught. I began to turn to look at him, but he rested his hand quickly and gently against the side of my face, keeping me turned away. "Don't," he said softly. "Please." Quietly, I stared at the wall as his breathing shuddered, and he said, "There was a bang...a loud...bang...and the smell of gunpowder. I think Amma knew that if she hesitated...for even a moment...it might be too late. A dark hole opened in my mother's head and even...even with its body dying...the demon within her tried to crawl...it kept slashing the knife...there was so much blood..." He was shaking. Without thinking, I rested my palm against the hand he had laid on my face. "I thought of it all again when I saw your scars that night, Samara. I never meant to frighten you as I did. But when I saw them...I could see my mother crawling towards me again, and that demon screaming within her, and all the blood and life going out of her..."

"I'm sorry, Damian," I whispered. "I'm so sorry." I knew he did not want me to see him, so I kept my face turned to the wall and grasped his hand. It took him a moment, but he grasped mine back and wept in silence.