In his younger days, Dennis Mills had been well known around the collections office, not only for his efficiency, fearlessness, and strength, but also for his compassion. From the onset of the dark ages through the tail end of the Protestant Reformation, he'd been able to establish himself as a reaper to be reckoned with. Even the one now known simply as "Undertaker," though having a few more famous heads on which to stake his claim, could not declare half as many souls as Mr. Mills.
Now, Dennis was a seasoned veteran. His days in collections had come to a close and ever since, he'd been resigned to the infirmary: Not as a patient, but as a doctor. Through the later half of the seventeenth century, he had spent long hours in the human world studying medicine and deriving perfection from their methods. Reapers were always ahead of humans, technologically as well as medically. Though it took a deal of time to learn exactly how to apply these methods to reaper physiology, Dennis had found great success and contentment with the practice of reaper medicine.
Despite the diversity of his skills, and all the hard work and dedication that had led to him achieving the position of Chief Physician of the London Grim Reaper Office, he claimed himself to be a specialist of sorts. He possessed one skill in particular that earned him a great deal of respect and reverence from those below him, and when the call came, he was the only reaper in all of England that could do the job.
It was nearing the end of the daylight office hours when Dennis received the order. George Denton, a recruiting agent and close friend of Dennis', delivered the letter personally, as he usually did when this type of job was sanctioned. Dennis thanked his friend and bade him leave, after which he returned to his quarters to prepare for his mission. He'd be in the field tonight. He needed to take all the necessary measures.
The nighttime air was cool on his skin, but the stink of the city made him queasy. He ventured into the human realm so seldom anymore that he had grown unaccustomed to the everyday phenomena of the place. Humans didn't seem to notice just how polluted the air had become, and most went about their business without so much as a thought. It both amazed and sickened him.
His final destination however, was not within the city limits. It was just north of the city, on the outskirts of a town where the clock tower of London could still be seen on the horizon.
Dennis came upon a small stone house with a straw roof at the crest of the hill. Located nearby, there was a stable and a small patch of farmland for subsistence purposes. The house appeared peaceful, as it was either vacant or its residents were sleeping. However, there was a commotion originating within the stable. Dennis knew immediately that this was where he needed to be.
He crept to the doorway, and poked his head inside. His ears were met with labored breathing and the other sounds that typically accompany that of a violent struggle. Taking a few more steps further inside, he quickly located the source of the commotion; a woman, flame headed and freckled, lay propped in a corner of the nearest stall, her legs sprawled before her and her belly bulging with a child fighting to escape its current residence.
Dennis cautiously approached. He immediately turned on his "shocked and ready to assist" expression.
"Ma'am, I'm a doctor. Would you please let me help you?"
Of course, it was always polite to ask first, especially when concerned with a woman in such a delicate and precarious condition. It was merely a formality for him, however. He was to retrieve one soul tonight, and save another. Her permission was of no regard.
"Oh, thank you," she gasped between breaths. "Thank you so much, sir. Yer an angel, is wot ye are."
Dennis was as calm as he could be. Kneeling down, he lifted her skirt to observe her progress.
"Ma'am, you're losing quite a bit of blood. I'm going to have to work quickly."
"Sir, this baby's been makin' me ill ever since I firs' came ta know about 'im. I fear 'e might kill me."
Dennis held back a chuckle. She had no idea how right she was.
This baby had no family to take him in, and being an orphan, he would more than likely die within the day. All the facts on Ada Sutcliff's personal life were listed in her record. She was the daughter of a German mother and English father, and an indentured servant to the Drew household since she was nine years old. She had no family to speak of, and the father of the baby was dead. Since her lover's wife still lived, she had been fired from her position for her infidelity and no longer even had a stable home. This baby would not be missed, which was exactly why he'd been marked for recruitment by the reapers.
Ada had momentarily calmed, but it was more than likely the blood loss causing her exhaustion. A few moments later, Dennis' nose picked up on the smell that accompanied her approaching death. He placed a hand upon her knee and the stable filled with the sweet scents of honey and wine. They were his favorite scents.
The woman tensed again as another contraction seized her. Dennis could see a head appearing and simultaneously Ada cried out in agony. There was more blood on the ground than he cared to see, but such was the nature of many of these recruitment assignments.
"It's all right Miss. You're going to be alright." It was both a lie and the truth. Her fate was sealed, but she would ultimately be at peace when he was done. "I need you to push now."
For ten more minutes, Ada struggled. Dennis showed no emotion, only false encouragement.
And then, at last, the child had a face, but he did not cry. He appeared fully to the kind doctor, and he noted that Ada had been correct in presuming that this child was male. As he landed in Dennis' hands, instantaneously, the baby grew cold. The beating of his heart slowed rapidly, until it was almost completely stopped. A breath of air escaped his lungs though he still did not cry, but then his airway opened up and the wailing began. His heartbeat returned to a steady thump within his chest, and the heat returned to his flesh: Warm, skin the texture of velvet. The scents of honey and wine were joined by another set of aromas. Roses and musk mixed together harmoniously in the air, complementing those of Dennis' touch. These were changes only a reaper midwife such as Dennis would notice. It was the first step of the transition from human to reaper.
"Let me hold 'im." Ada croaked, stretching her weakening arms toward the tiny bundle in Dennis' hands.
"Certainly."
Dennis held the baby up to the woman's breast, and she placed her hands on him, never actually holding the child herself, allowing Dennis to support him for her.
She let out a soft sigh, and smiled. "Oh… my sweet, baby boy," she whispered. The child had ceased his initial crying, and now only fussed softly. "Grell. Jus' like yer granddad."
He was the prettiest little thing. Though he had chubby, red cheeks and a pudgy belly, he was so tiny compared to other newborns he'd delivered. But he seemed healthy, and when Grell opened his eyes for the first time, and Dennis saw the shining green irises, he knew that the child was acclimating well to the marking. Dennis never tired of these moments. This was his life's work, and the entire reason he existed. It was his calling.
Ada's limbs grew weaker as they slowly released the child and came to rest on her still swollen abdomen. Dennis looked down, and saw just how much blood there was on the ground. They straw and dirt had absorbed a lot of it, but the red stain in the earth was a deep shining crimson. Ada still breathed slightly, but in essence, she was already gone.
Dennis wrapped the newborn Grell snugly in the blanket he'd brought along, and tucked him safely into the sling about his back. Then, drawing out his scythe —the traditional staffed sickle known to humans as the Grim Reaper's canonical implement— he quickly and mercifully ended Ada's life, before she could suffer any longer.
He reviewed her record and approved the paper work. There were no telling remarks except that she had provided the reaper's forces with a great contribution, which she had paid for with her life. Such was the case. It seemed a cruel circumstance but, in truth, there was a bigger picture to take into consideration.
Dennis left quickly. There was still more work to be done before the night was over.
In the west end of London, he came upon a modest townhouse with a brick façade and white shutters. There was a small, inviting courtyard out front, encircled by trees to provide for privacy.
Dennis took the knocker and banged it several times against the plate. The bundle at his back stirred, fussing slightly, but did not cry.
Several moments later, the door opened, and a woman of about twenty-five with a long brown braid down her back and bright green eyes opened the door.
"Good morning, Dennis. I was informed that you would be arriving sometime tonight."
"It's nice to see you, Beatrice."
The woman smiled at him and opened the door a little wider, stepping aside to allow him to pass.
"How is Charles?" Dennis asked, once he was through the door and she'd closed it behind him.
"He's doing well, thanks for asking. He's asleep at the moment as he's got work in the morning, but he is just as excited as I am to be receiving another bundle of yours to look after."
"I'm glad to hear it." Dennis smiled pleasantly, and unstrapped the sling from over his shoulder, bringing the bundle into his arms.
"This is Grell Sutcliff," he said, presenting the bundled child to the woman.
She took him in her arms and pushed aside the blankets to get a better look at his face.
"Such a darling," she cooed, a bright smile on her lips. "We'll love him as if he were our own."
"But of course, he must know that he is not yours. He is our recruit, and when he comes of age, I will return for him, and make him a full reaper. He needs to know what awaits him."
"I know how it works, Mr. Mills." Her smirk was playful.
"Of course. You know I travel into the human realm so seldom these days, I sometimes lose touch of things."
"It's all right. That's why partial reapers such as my husband and myself are here to keep you pompous nit-wits in the other realm up to date with the times."
"We've always been ahead of the times on our end, but thank you nonetheless for your concern."
She passed him a meaningful glance and returned her attention back to the baby in her arms.
"I've got to get back now, Mrs. Fielding. Thank you again for your services. Raise him well."
"You can count on us. We're honored as always. Take care, Mr. Mills."
She saw him out the door, and when he was within the circle of trees around the courtyard, he phased back to the other realm, satisfied with a job well done.
The next time he saw the boy, he'd be an adult, ripe to pick for full enlistment among the ranks of the reapers, ready to begin his training. Until then, he would grow and develop as any normal human boy, raised by seemingly normal human parents that had also received the reaper's touch at birth, but had never been made into full-fledged reapers themselves.
Little did Dennis know, that the adult version of Grell Sutcliff would be, compared to the sweet, gentle, tiny, little thing he had been at his birth, a complete contrast to all of these things complete with high heels and feminine pronouns.