In which Grell pays off a debt, rather to her own surprise.

Grell was embroidering a strip of fabric to edge a négligée, a pair of magnifiers clipped over her glasses. They allowed her to create bunches of tiny grapes in Forbidden Stitch. William T. Spears sat on the sofa nearby, not quite as rigidly upright as he usually demanded of himself.

She had brought him home, cooked him dinner, settled him down comfortably before the fireplace with a glass of wine, and started him talking about his work. To relax him further she had picked up her embroidery hoop. It was an accepted signal that she would not accost him just yet.

She loved her Will dearly, but he was hopelessly inept with the warmer emotions. Poor thing. He truly believed that all affection was disastrous, embarrassing and counterproductive. She was doing her best with him, but it was uphill work indeed. He was about to make a dreadful mistake.

He was planning to promote Alan Humphries. This would require some years' service outside the London Branch. The proposed arrangements were terribly unsuitable. Normally this would be a matter of supreme indifference to her. In this one circumstance, however, quite to her own surprise, Grell had realized that she wished to repay a debt.

Will was thinking aloud. "...Five years in Carlisle, then back here."

Grell selected a silken thread. "Eric will go with him?"

"They have no use for Slingby. They have a sufficiency of collections agents. There are more advanced vacancies, but he is unqualified to hold them. I cannot understand why Slingby has no ambition to rise to a better position. He reads extensively, he can predict human trends, but he simply has no desire to use his talents."

Grell reached for her needle threader. It and the magnifiers had been a gift from Alan after he had learned of her hobby, for no other reason than that he thought they might be helpful. Grell treasured small kindnesses. They were so rare. "Why should Eric want promotion? What good is it? Ambition just gets us more deskwork, which he hates. But separation will kill them, you know."

"You exaggerate, Grell. This will be temporary. They will still be able to visit each other every few months. Surely the occasional weekend is enough."

"Not for them." Grell was creating neat knots in precise rows. "Those two need each other on a level you don't understand. They cannot be comfortable apart for five days, let alone five years. Will, darling, for some people, the absence of a soulmate causes real pain. You should not assume that your immunity to sentiment is universal."

"He will adjust. Especially if I keep him busy enough—"

"You will lose them, Will. Now do listen to me, darling, because I know all about emotions. I know exactly what will happen. Alan will be miserable. He will work long hours because that's his way of managing depression. He will exhaust himself and his work will suffer. Eric will last perhaps a month alone, then start drinking and whoring just like he did before he moved in with Alan."

"Grell! Honestly!"

"They'll argue. Alan will worry that Eric will Reap while drunk and get hurt. Eric will resent Alan for nagging him. Without Alan in residence, Eric's home will become cold and silent. He'll want warmth and the company of friends. That means bars and afterparties. Gossips will speculate that the relationship is over. Every unattached individual will flirt with him. And Eric is a healthy, good-looking, hard-drinking, party-loving man in a big Branch in a big city. He'll lay everything but the Atlantic Cable. He'll think it doesn't mean anything. He'll be wrong."

Will huffed. Grell tied off her work and snipped a thread.

"Some opportunistic parasite, probably female, will attach herself to Eric. Admin's full of 'em. There's a standard procedure for stealing someone else's spouse, you know. A lot of people are here in the Reaper realm because they got caught up in a similar pattern when they were human." Had Will? It might explain a few things.

"She'll fill his head with flattery and lies, his glass with whiskey. She will insist he spend every possible minute with her. She'll make sure Alan hears all about it. She'll engineer a breakup. She'll isolate Eric from all his friends and anyone who might compete with her for his attention. She may urge him to challenge anyone who tries to thwart her. She'll fear you especially, Will, because you could break her hold by transferring him away or sending him to Rehab to dry out. She'll try to charm you. When she fails, she may start rumors to discredit you."

Spears adjusted his glasses. "I am completely indifferent to the nattering of file clerks."

"Well, if she came after you, I'd send her a lovely funeral bouquet. With a ribbon saying Best Of Luck In Your New Location. Just to remind the Admin tarts of who and what I am, and that you are off limits. But I would not otherwise interfere. These tawdry little dramas are too boring for words. Eric being an ass is none of my business. But Eric reaping or dueling while drunk is a hazard to everyone. Which makes him your business."

At least Will was listening. His face was thoughtful. Perhaps he was remembering a previous occurrence. There had been a notable affair in Scythes some years ago. It had ended badly. Although, to be fair, it had also produced the very first motorized reaping tool. It was designed by the abandoned wife and tested on the straying husband and his smug new girlfriend. For an experimental prototype, it had proven remarkably effective.

Grell chose a thread in a darker shade. Alan's needle threader came into play again. Such a serious drab little fellow, Alan, not her type at all. But he enjoyed her theatrics, accepted her sexual orientation, and had defended her right to choose her path. He had never been unkind to her. That was very rare, very rare indeed. A candle's light in a long darkness. Eric had said something like that, once.

She began a little skull in satin stitch.

"Eric will die in a Reap or a duel or a bar fight, I'd say within two years. Alan will be heartbroken and blame himself. He might recover; I doubt it. He will try, but without Eric's support he'll be lost. He'll never achieve the brilliance you expect of him. He will certainly never return to London. Remember Agent Beaumont, darling? Exactly like that. Someday Alan will leave his scythe and glasses on his desk and walk, unarmed and blind, into the shadows.

"Now, dear, you know what you need to know. Why not offer them both to the Academy part-time? It only requires a little creative scheduling. If you allow them an intern to help with their paperwork, they'll jump at the chance. Let Alan teach Ethics, Eric teach Technique, and both of them teach scythe handling and combat skills. As they become interested in their students, they will begin to want the power to protect them. Let Eric aspire to a rank that would allow him to match Juniors to Branches, to oversee the mentors of the new graduates. Let Alan work to gain some influence over the curriculum. He'll end that "incomplete instructions until they've done it wrong and received their sarcasm" philosophy. Separately and together they could make amazing contributions to the school."

"And yet they would still be ours," mused Will. The intricacies of relationships might be beyond him, but he had no equal at business planning for his fief. "They will educate and inspire themselves at little cost to the Division. They can recommend the most talented students to the London Branch. And recruit the best of them for us. The Academy will be in our debt. I will owe no favors to the Director of Carlisle, nor risk him attempting to retain Humphries past the training period. The requirement of service in more than one venue will still be satisfied."

He sipped his wine with more pleasure than he usually permitted himself. "Both men will of course be based here in London, not on campus. Instructors, but also practising Reapers. Their future achievements will benefit our Division as well as the Academy, increasing our influence and reputation. Our new trainees will respect them, and go to them for advice. Slingby at last will be motivated to study human events, to forewarn them of coming disasters. Each year's students will strive to excel, to win their approval. In a few years those alumni will be rising to Senior status in the hierarchies of all Branches. Cooperation may improve. Disputes between groups, Divisions and even Branches can be referred to Humphries for mediation."

"That's an excellent idea, Will. Their students will in some ways be their children. If any individual or group needs help, Alan will move heaven and earth to provide it - and heaven and earth will come if he calls. Because they will respect and value him, and also because Eric will smack them if they don't."

"If you say so, Grell. I will add the responsibilities I wish them to assume, one by one, and allow them to select assistants accordingly; in a decade or so their team can be declared a Department of our Division with their own budget..."

"And they will go on living together, Will. Remember, that's important."

And for the first time, her cold, cruel Will uttered those two magical words so vital between lovers.

"Yes, dear."