Price of Freedom

I hope things don't become confusing from here on out. Had to put some Annabelle and Will in here. I needed that, don't know about anyone else.

Chapter 10

Abigail had barely slept the night before. The offer to work with Undertaker would certainly prove to be interesting. However she wanted to be doing the job she went to school for. She had determined, however, that if she did not accept the offer she would probably be given a job that was boring and tedious.

She had arrived at Undertaker's funeral parlor bright and early, just in time to join him for breakfast.

As they ate, he said, "I've always wanted a little assistant."

"Glad to be of service then," Abigail said weakly.

"You don't sound too happy..."

Abigail shook her head. "That's because I'm not," she said. "Don't get me wrong," she added, "I like being here and spending time with you. I'd just rather be... helpful."

Undertaker laughed at that, muffling his laughter against his sleeve. "You get that from your father," he told her. He began to tap one long black nail against the coffin they used as a table. "I think you'll find being here is quite helpful."

"Why?" she asked sadly. "By getting me out of the way?"

Undertaker smiled vaguely as he clapped his hands together once. "How should we start the day?" he asked.

Abigail shrugged. "As long as I don't have to sweep, I don't care what we do today."

Undertaker laughed again. As he left the room, he called back to her. "This is going to be a fun week."

Abigail rested her chin on her hand and stared at the ceiling. Above her, a small black spider crawled along, trying its best to string a web in the corner of the beams above. The sound of something being dropped in front of her made her jump.

"Which one?" Undertaker asked brightly.

It took Abigail a few moments to realize he had placed some fabric in front of her. There was a bright sunny yellow, a pale pink with small, darker pink flowers, and a lavender shade that seemed to sparkle in the dim candlelight.

Abigail bit her lip and then pointed to the purple. "This one, I suppose. Why?"

"I needed a color for a young girl's coffin."

"You – you make your own coffins?" Abigail asked, dimly aware that she was touching the purple fabric.

"Oh, yes. Where would they come from if I didn't?"

Abigail shook her head slowly, trying to take this new bit of information about Undertaker in. "Well... I always thought you ordered them."

Wordlessly, she followed Undertaker into a room of the funeral parlor she had never been in before. The scent of freshly cut wood filled the air. To her surprise, there were cuts of wood in all lengths and sizes lining the shelves on one long wall. On the wall opposite of that one were fabrics the color of the rainbow in all different sorts of textures. Barrels and crates held stuffing for the linings.

"Impressed?" Undertaker asked with a smile.

"Very," Abigail admitted. Before she could stop herself, she heard herself asking him, "What happened to that girl?"

"I'll let you tell me."

"Demon?" When he nodded, she asked, "But how do you tell? There are no marks and – "

"No noticeable marks," Undertaker pointed out. "You have a lot to learn, Abigail."

Annabelle and William stood in his office in front of the window. She had just returned with her completed death list and had now joined him, not ready to walk home by herself. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. "There's been another one today," she said wearily. "It's like she's taunting us."

"No one seems to have seen her either," William said, absently toying with Annabelle's braid. "Or if they have, they are not telling us."

"Do you really think anyone would withhold that from management? Especially after the entire angel ordeal."

William was silent, his mind going years back to when an angel had decided to help purify people but usually wound up convincing them to kill themselves. And how the angel had coaxed one of the higher ranking Shinigami on his side.

He snapped out of his reverie at the sound of her voice. "Do you really think we did the right thing with Abigail? I'm sure she's furious with us."

"Undertaker can keep her safe if that disgusting creature shows up. Do you think she would, though? Undertaker doesn't usually involve himself with the living."

"Good point." She was silent for a minute or so and then, very softly, she said, "I worry about her."

"You should," William told her. "You are her mother, therefore it's your place to worry. But you must remember she'd an adult and capable of taking care of herself."

Reluctantly, Annabelle released him. "You need to finish your work so we can get home. I know you hate overtime. I'll be waiting downstairs." She kissed his cheek and left, shutting the door behind her.

William knew she felt nervous about walking home after dark now. He straightened his glasses and sank down behind his desk to deal with the small mountain of paperwork before him.