AN: I'm looking forward to this fanfic. This is only my second fanfic I've ever tried to write. So, yeah. And the last one I did was years ago! Anyway! Enjoy!
I was never one for shopping and Hecklem Lane seemed to be a big shopping district. Mason managed to find entertainment through window shopping, but my eyes were scanning the surroundings for likely suspects. There was a food vender at the corner of the block across the street and while nothing really stuck out to me as dangerous, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone's imminent death had something to do with it. I also couldn't shake this stormy cloud over my head. Lately, I'd just been more grim than usual. There's some grim reaper humor for you, but in all seriousness, I've been hating myself more and more. I've never been very good as diagnosing myself and I try to avoid introspection into my soul, but since being dead, I've had a lot more time to think about things.
I've hit a lot of milestones since being dead, too. I've had my first cigarette, my first drink, my first real kiss, my first boyfriend, and my first fuck. You'd think that with being dead, you'd feel like you have all the time in the world to spare. That's not really the case. As a matter of fact, I don't have any time. Death tends to run on a very tight schedule. If you're not there to do your job at exactly the right moment, someone's entire existence can go up in smokes. It's strange to think such a fragile system rests on the shoulders of those who were once human. Wouldn't it be more logical and efficient to get angels to do this kind of thing? Where were the angels, anyway? Since being dead, all I've seen are horrible things. I haven't once seen anything like God or angels.
I've seen demons though.
Gravelings.
"Hey, Georgie! Take a look at this!" Mason motioned toward a display case with the latest IPod.
I looked in. "So?" I shrugged, unimpressed, before turning back to face the direction of the street vendor. Mason seemed to notice my gloomy mood so he decided to leave it alone. Then I spotted it – the graveling. Ever since I touched Ray's graveling, the sight of them really unnerved me. They'd always bothered me – the ugly bastards – but now… there was something more sinister about them. I saw it crawl toward the vender's cart fiddle with a switch before disappearing.
"Darla! I told you! Tell them that is Peter Thrace who wants this deal to go through! My name should be more than enough to convince them." There was a man in front of me talking on a cell phone. He was wearing a trench coat and his hair was stylishly gelled. He looked like a business man and just before he walked away, I brushed my hand along his back, taking his soul. Now he wouldn't feel a thing. He wouldn't feel pain when his death came along. Just as the man started walking across the street, the do not walk symbol appeared. The red hand blinking, but he was too absorbed in his conversation to notice. A cab was speeding toward him. The driver slammed on his breaks and Mr. Thrace jumped away. "Hey! I'm walking here!" The vending cart started to roll. The cab driver yelled a few obscenities and just as people tried to warn Mr. Thrace, the heavy cart slammed into him, knocking him over and rolling over his skull.
"And I was just about to become a billionaire…" Mr. Thrace said sadly as he came to stand next to me.
"And I was about to become a rock star when I died," Mason added thoughtfully. Mr. Thrace looked over at Mason doubtfully.
"Come on," I said, motioning for Mr. Thrace to follow me. "Time for you to move on."