February 28, 1889
"Tell me why you are doing this! Do you need souls, Eric? Take mine. I'm dying anyway."
"No! If you die, it's all for nothing!"
"You're doing this for me? The cure is just a fable, Eric, and you will stop killing right now. The whole branch is after us. We've got to run."
"This is the only way I know to save you. I have to try. Without you—I can't go on. I can't. I have become a monster. How can you bear to be near me?" Nine hundred ninety-nine.
"I'm still your partner. Always will be." Alan removed his glasses. "Sorry, blind. Can't see your sins at all. Take off your glasses. Spears is tracking them."
"Resign? Together? They'll kill you too. If you go back now, they can't hold any of this against you."
"Dead by scythe, dead by Thorns, equally dead. I've accepted that. But we can save you, and maybe have a little while together before I die. Hurry! Glasses off!"
"You are so stubborn. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Don't insult me, big man. We made a deal. Which both of us have broken by not being honest with each other. Come over here."
It was very difficult. The glasses were vital to a Reaper. Taking care of them was the first rule a Reaper learned. They represented hard work, achievement, enslavement and their hope of Forgiveness. They were a lifeline if a Reaper went missing, their only clear vision in a blurred world. The frames were the first personal choice permitted in their lives as Reapers, a statement that they had passed their final examination. Even now, when their glasses could only bring disaster, it was almost unbearable to put them down.
They laid them on Alan's handkerchief, to keep them clean and safe until their pursuers retrieved them. They turned away. They ran.
Nine hundred ninety-nine.
Spears sent his Reapers into London. They spread out, following his directions. At least this was not a hostage situation, as Slingby had quickly divested himself of a prisoner who could only slow him down. Spears stoked his anger, to smother the unbecoming regret he felt at the loss of such a team. Slingby had been a competent, dependable presence since Spears had first arrived. Everybody, himself included, liked Humphries. Their loss was more to him than a scheduling problem. He would have to deal with that on his own time.
Suddenly, Spears realized that Slingby had met another Reaper. After a moment they disappeared. Confound them! Humphries had joined his partner and both had removed their glasses. Finding them now would be line-of-sight only. He sent Knox to pick up the glasses and return. Both fugitives were now nearly blind. The Rules required that Spears call his Reapers as witnesses, throw the glasses down and grind them into fragments beneath his heel. He found that at this moment he could not bear to do so. He set them aside to be destroyed later, after he had dealt with the current chase.
Spears paused and considered. Slingby alone might have escaped their pursuit. Slingby with Humphries was not going far, not if stress and exertion triggered Humphries' attacks. If the primary purpose was to dispose of Slingby, then all Spears had to do was wait; the demon was hunting too.
He recalled his Reapers—why risk them? Even blind, mad, and injured, Slingby was dangerous. Spears could not lose any more people. He returned to the office and ordered all but a few of his men back to their normal assignments. Summoning Sutcliff, he commanded that he go to his locker, dress properly for duty and return to his desk. Spears was well aware that Sutcliffe's Shameless Strumpet persona was completely useless in an emergency situation. If he rejoined Michaelis, he would flutter and flap and cling. He must not be allowed to interfere with the demon's pursuit.
Sutcliff returned, sulking but presentable. His scythe taken away, with four stone-faced Reapers set to watch him, he had nothing to do but think. He began to realize that in abandoning his duty, aiding a demon and betraying his co-workers, he might finally have exhausted the tolerance of his only remaining protector. Spending eternity as a poorly paid, strictly confined file clerk loomed. Some fence-mending might be required. Bit by bit he shifted from the role of Femme Fatale into that of Will's Faithful Subordinate.
In his office, with Knox in attendance, Spears sat down with the Death List. His quarry was wounded and tiring. He would be healing fast, but not fast enough, and Humphries was a millstone around his neck. The Death List would tell him where Slingby died.
Spears waited. The Death list ticked steadily along as Londoners succumbed to age, illness, incident or accident, and were duly Reaped. Knox fidgeted and yawned.
There.
Humphries had died.
Spears waited.
There. Slingby.
Spears and Sutcliff found the demon and the Earl admiring the swirl of souls around them. The demon related events in a few smug sentences, then bore his sullen little Master home. The Earl expressed no gratitude that Humphries had died trying to save him. Typical aristobrat. Would be much improved by spending several lives as a turnip. Spears summoned a few Reapers for cleanup.
Slingby's body lay in the snow. Spears ordered it sent to the infirmary and placed in stasis. He forbade that the soul be Reaped, or that Research be allowed anywhere near the corpse. He set Knox to retrieving the souls freed by Slingby's demise. Humphries' blood marked his place of death, but the body was gone. Grell squatted, running his fingers through the scarlet slush. He stood and held out both hands. After taking a moment to focus, Will could see a long silver hair running between them.
"The Undertaker has him, Will. He's an acquaintance of Sebastian's. Come with me, quickly, before he can do anything dreadful. He's—something not exactly human, and he experiments with the bodies of the dead."
Deep in the back streets of London, they appeared before the Undertaker's storefront funeral parlor. The giggling mortician guided them into a back room where a figure lay covered in linen on a makeshift bier. The Undertaker folded back the cloth to expose the upper portion of the body.
"A body with the soul unReaped! And such a soul, stained with a mortal sin, yet filled with love and loyalty, duty and dedication, sorrow and sacrifice! So close to being worthy of forgiveness, yet all thrown away to save another who was beyond saving! Is that not a wondrous joke?" The Undertaker hugged his ribs and shook with laughter.
Grell looked at the body. Truly, Sebastian had not done this. There was no smell of demon here. This was Slingby's strike, with Slingby's scythe. Slingby had attacked Humphries from the rear, cutting across the right shoulder and completely through the chest. Grell touched one finger to the ruins of the respectable suit. "He's ours, Unnie. We're taking him back. The things you do to mortal corpses won't work on him anyway. Our reconstruction as Reapers makes us too different." And how could this old lunatic have read Alan's soul? He must have been gossiping with Sebastian after the kill. Had he stood in the shadows and watched the whole confrontation?
There was an aura of carefully concealed power here. Respect was required. Slingby had taught him that. Will spoke softly. "Far too dangerous, sir. You'll be attracting the attention of the Divine as well as the Reaper Realm. Do you really want to anger the Archangel Michael? He has absolutely no tolerance for interference with the Judgement laid upon us Reapers, and he leads an army of beings as formidable as himself. The Reaper Realm owes an enormous debt to Mr. Humphries, as we essentially worked him to death. I intend to petition for mercy— no, for a Divine Intervention With Justice Ascendant, for this man and his partner."
"Hee hee heee! Good luck with that! What justice shall you beg for Slingby, who murdered a thousand because he could not bear to lose one? Who murdered his lover in his madness, and committed suicide a second time? Suicide by demon! Oh, what a laugh he has given me! And what a laugh if you are successful! And also if you are not successful, and they Reap and damn you for your impertinence! I know exactly how little the Divine cares for a Reaper's loss. Very well. Take your friend. Grell, fair lady, you will visit and tell me how this all comes out, and we will have tea."
"A lady does not visit a gentleman's domicile, sir!"
"Now, now, my dear. Many widows come here to arrange their husbands' burials. They are no less respected for that. Bring a chaperone if you so desire. Wear mourning and none may say that you are indiscreet. Shall we say three months from today? You are going to want to let things settle down considerably before you begin your appeal. Now let me enshroud him properly. It happens that I have another project in hand to keep me busy." The winding sheet was skillfully wrapped and pinned into place.
Spears lifted up the shrouded body. With a mutual nod, he and Grell ported it and themselves to the Infirmary. Humphries was placed in storage next to his partner. The pair would be moved outside time to await Spear's request for revival. As well as providing preservation, it would make them inaccessible to inquisitive Researchers.
Grell looked at the bodies and remembered the night of the bonfire. He had been so jealous of their love; and yet their love had brought them here. If Will ever warmed to him, would Fate make a note of it? Hunt them down for daring to have a moment of happiness? Demand an enormous price? And if Will did, and Fate did, would Grell as willingly pay?