And here we have Part 2... the plot thickens!

The oblique reference to Vimes, incidentally, is one I couldn't quite resist. It's a nod to a throwaway line in The Fifth Elephant, and for that matter, another grim little allusion in Night Watch. Ten points if you can identify the quotes.


The patrons of Biers, a drinking establishment catering to a broad selection of species and vital groups, were, to put it mildly, used to the unusual. But the dark-hooded figure before the dartboard was inviting a good deal more attention than usual.

It wasn't so much that people wanted to look at him -- in fact, they kept finding their eyes sliding slightly away -- but something about the way he unerringly got a bullseye with every single toss demanded a good, long stare.

After a few flawless rounds, the figure shrugged and turned away to give someone else a shot. IT'S REALLY NOT THAT MUCH OF A CHALLENGE, he said to the young woman before him, who had made it partway across the room and had been taking off her coat when she'd seen him, and... well, in the words of cliches, stopped dead.

"What -- what are you doing h...."

DARTS, said Death, not seeing the looks on the other patrons' faces, as they picked up the darts and stared at them as if they were bewitched. I MEANT TO TRY IT AFTER OBSERVING A GAME AT THE YARD. HIGHLY CURIOUS. THE TROLL OFFICER SEEMED DETERMINED TO POUND HIS DART DIRECTLY THROUGH THE WALL. I UNDERSTAND NOW, AT LEAST, THAT THIS IS GENERALLY NOT THE OBJECTIVE.

Susan blinked up at her grandfather, then at the dartboard. She had a strong suspicion that whatever type of dartboard the policemen possessed, it wasn't made of... these particular materials. She stared at the taut beige material, which wasn't fabric, and shut her eyes, hearing herself ask for some reason, "Why were you lurking around there?"

I KEEP A RATHER CLOSE WATCH ON THEIR COMMANDER, he said, and paused. Susan looked up again. He seemed to be waiting for something. WATCH? GET IT? IT'S A....

"Ha, ha," Susan said flatly, and slumped onto a barstool. She sat there very still for a moment before groaning and hiding her face in her hands as she leaned against the table. Her left elbow landed in something sticky. She didn't want to know what it was.

Behind them was the sound of an incipient scuffle as a still-nervous ghoul tossed a dart, missed, and then found himself apologizing profusely to the zombie whose shoulder stitching he'd quite neatly split apart.

Susan listened to them start to argue and winced. Her grandfather had taken no particular notice of the trouble he'd started. They weren't mortals, and therefore not his direct concern... so, she had to wonder: "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice muffled behind the heels of her hands.

I CAME TO CONGRATULATE YOU ON YOUR NEW JOB, he said.

Susan dropped one hand, still leaving the other before her eye, so the image of the skeletal figure before her was partially filtered between the bones of her own hand.

"Thank you," she said, with less grace than was probably warranted. "And I came to get a drink. I don't suppose you'd be interested."

THE POINT OF ALCOHOL, AS I UNDERSTAND IT, IS TO HELP YOU FORGET THINGS. I HAVE RATHER TOO MUCH TO FORGET FOR IT TO DO ME ANY GOOD. He looked down at his granddaughter, managing a small note of concern. BUT YOU ARE TRYING TO ERADICATE SOMETHING?

Susan looked at him, then waved over a waiter and ordered a gin & tonic. He went off without making any fuss over her guest. The staff of Biers, after all, was paid well not to notice much.

"I'm just trying," she said, "to wind down after a very long day."

SURELY YOU'RE HAPPY ABOUT THE APPOINTMENT?

Susan glared up into the twin pools of blue light that glowed in Death's eye sockets. "Grandfather. You're taking an interest. Whenever you get involved, things get even more complicated than necessary."

AH, YES. COMPLICATIONS. Death looked down at the bowl of salty things on the table, which had begun to move.

Susan saw it too, and groaned, "Oh, no, not the rat too...."

A bony nose peeked up over the rim of the bowl. SNH, SNH, SNH....

Death absently handed the Death of Rats a pretzel, or what Susan hoped was a pretzel, as he continued, I DARESAY YOU ARE FEELING SOME ANXIETY OVER THE... DISENGAGEMENT.

"Whether or not that's true is no particular business of yours --"

CONCLUSIONS AND DEPARTURES, SUSAN, ARE ENTIRELY OUR BUSINESS.

Susan stared. " 'Our' business?"

YES. IN FACT, THERE IS A JOB TO BE DONE TONIGHT....

Death reached into the folds of his robe and drew out a slim hourglass -- a lifetimer, Susan recognized immediately. Its falling sand had almost entirely drained away, leaving only a thin trickle to skid down the inside of the glass toward its definitive end. Etched into the side was the name THOM CHANDLER.

HE LIVES A FEW BLOCKS FROM HERE, said Death. FOR NOW.

"Oh, no," said Susan, pushing back her stool and standing up. "You're not getting me into this. You're Death -- you do the duty. The last thing I need tonight is to go chasing around after someone about to buy the cabbage plot--"

IT MAY DO YOU SOME GOOD TO THINK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE FOR A WHILE, YOU KNOW.

"Like what? Like, oh, death? The end of life? Extinguishment of the vital flame? Nice little morbid things like that?"

The little morbid thing currently scuttling about the table started to root through the snack bowl for another pretzel, using the handle of its tiny scythe to hook through the loops. Susan watched the rat, and winced.

PERHAPS I SHOULD HAVE SAID, THINK ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE. Death leaned forward, suddenly solemn. THIS ONE MAY REQUIRE SOME SENSITIVITY....

"Which you don't have."

Death gave her a look that indicated he was reevaluating her own possession of that particular quality. Susan twitched under the glare.

"Listen," she sighed, "I'm not sure why it's important for me to take this --"

Death handed her the lifetimer. LIVE AND LEARN, he said. ODD ADVICE FROM ME, I KNOW.

She hesitantly wrapped her hands around the hourglass, which, in a weird, undefinable way, tingled under her fingers. The lifetimers weren't precisely physical, but that was the weight of a life she could feel in her hands, slowly slipping away.

The weight was painfully insubstantial.

"Where is he?" she asked dully.

Death said, NINE BLOCKS RIMWISE, IN ABOUT TWELVE MINUTES.

She pulled her coat back on and tucked the lifetimer into one pocket. Her hair, to her annoyance, was already loosening from its governess' -- no, teacher's -- bun, and clouding out into its natural lightning-shock frizz. And she knew without looking that her sensible dress would have suddenly acquired a good deal of black lace. The Duty, as her family knew to call it, had a few particular ideas about workplace fashion.

Against all the mounting evidence, Susan nevertheless asked, "Are you sure I ought to be taking this?"

DEAD CERTAIN. HA, HA.

Death was grinning -- not that he had much choice in the matter. Susan managed to smile back, although it was stiff and slightly strained, and then held out her right hand. The scythe materialized in her grip, shimmering in eerie ways as light fell across the blade and shivered into tiny pieces.

She didn't notice, but the pose earned her a (were)wolf whistle from across the room.

"All right, then," she said. "I'll be back."

I'D HOPE SO, Death said to himself as she walked out. YOU HAVEN'T EVEN HAD YOUR DRINK....

The Death of Rats, who'd been observing all this from behind the snack bowl, finally raised his head and said thoughtfully, SQUEAK?

Death sat there for a moment and thought. YES, SHE'S STILL HESITATING. COULD YOU GO ALONG IN CASE THERE'S ANY TROUBLE?

SQUEAK! The Death of Rats snapped off a perfect salute.

Death looked down at his little helper, and, before letting him go off after Susan, heaved a spectral sigh. I'M STILL WONDERING IF ALL THIS IS A GOOD IDEA, he mused.

The Death of Rats let out a snort of laughter and pointed with the scythe at the ongoing squabble behind them, which, its own slanted way, answered the question. The zombie had grabbed the uncoordinated ghoul and smacked its head precisely into the center of the macabre little dartboard.

Death grinned again. AH, YES, he said knowingly. BULLSEYE.

------ to be continued, as Susan finds herself up against a reluctant ghost....