Chapter Seven

"What?" Vivian gasped.

"You hear me. Of course, you couldn't be completely immortal, you could still die and you'll need sleep. You just need to answer one question," Undertaker said.

She looked up at him.

"How much do you want it?"

"If it means I can be with you and away with this life and obligations," Vivian said, laying her head on his pale white chest. "Then...I'd want that more than anything."

"Really?" he asked. "Then, there are a few things I must take care of first. I promise to bring you the Queen's coin until I'm ready."

Vivian hadn't the slightest idea what he was planning, but when she woke the next morning, Undertaker was gone and her brother was shaking her to wake up, reminding her that she had to go to work, but Vivian sighed, brushing him off for a while. She changed into the black dress Undertaker had boughten for her along with the crystal choker that reminded her of his long hair.

Upon opening the shop, she found that business was rather dead today. There was a service this afternoon for a deceased and the coffin with the body was to be delivered at four o'clock this evening, but so far that was the most action she'd been seeing today. Undertaker waltzed his way into the shop around noon from the back door, seeing Vivian cleaning around the coffins nearly ready to drop herself.

He came up from behind her, wrapping his long sleeves around her waistline and that's when she just let herself fall back against him, closing her eyes.

"Tired?" he asked. "Lie down in the back room."

"Not much business today, but you might want to deliver a body around four. They have to burry someone," she replied. Undertaker lifted her into his arms and checked the listings.

"Ah, that would be most helpful," he said, mostly to himself as he set her down to sleep in the back room. She'd opened the shop even though he hadn't expected her to. Opening the shop was pretty much whenever he pleased to do business, even though there was a sign explaining the hours of operation in the front window.

But Vivian kept to the time, and since last night, Undertaker couldn't dispute her fatigue. While she slept, Undertaker delivered the coffin and began the nightshift at the reaper association, weaving his way to the higher ups.

"I'd like to schedule a reaping," he requested. "I believe an error must be corrected immediately."

He'd gone about his shifts, collecting the souls of the dying and viewing a few cinematic records. It was a slow night, giving management time to report back to him. A reaper met him during his last soul collection for the night, stating that his request was approved by the board after his written statement.

Undertaker had written out a report stating that a certain soul was to be collected, but that she had not been at the place at the time of her supposed death. He cleared the fact the soul was planning to jump but changed her mind. His searching for the soul led into a conversation with her, upon which she'd figured out what he was and it was difficult to keep her quiet. Placing her in the asylum wouldn't help any and since no one believed her anyway, but he felt she should be compensated for the higher ups error in her death judgement.

After his statement about his new shop and his upcoming retirement, Undertaker had convinced the board to reschedule her reaping back into his hands. After making a trip to a few herbal medicine shops, Undertaker wrapped up his shift and clocked out on time.

The next morning, Undertaker met Vivian in his shop, death scythe in hand. He threw her a bag of the pittance he promised her.

"Sorry, had to take a cut. You'll be needing a few things in the near future," Undertaker said as she saw exactly how much he'd given her. "Meet me in this shop early tomorrow. We've a few things to discuss."

Vivian continued working diligently for him, wondering what was going to happen to her. This was a deal with Death itself. She knew who he was, what he did, and she couldn't expect no consequence from such knowledge. After wrapping up in the shop and Undertaker's leaving early for a shift, Vivian reached home with the coin she'd been given, which was enough to keep the family fed for a while.

"What do you do for him?" her brother asked one night.

"I make sales," she responded. "It's his business, but it's a small shop. I didn't set my paycheck."

"He pays quite generously," Vivian's mother replied. "More than what your brother knows."

"Oh shut it! I work hard."

"At what? Vivian's bringing in more than the two of us combined."

"Well that's not my fault for finding a job at the docks then."

"Find another."

"Nothing is ever good enough for you."

This went on for hours until Vivian walked herself upstairs and changed into nightly attire. Looking out her window, she wondered if reaping was a sickening job. Without knowing the age of a grim reaper, she'd no idea how long Undertaker had been doing this job. A grim reaper with white hair, he must've been around for a very long time.

His death scythe was most curious, and she found herself wondering whose skeleton was attached to the it. As she sat by the fireplace, she felt the window crack open, but she didn't stir.

"Pardon my late intrusion."

Undertaker displayed the ball gown in front of the fireplace. It was delicate with jewels of crystal and amethysts upon the bodice and the sleeves were short. The dress came all the way to the floor. She even had a matching choker to wear with it.

"It's...pink," was all she said, staring at it.

"Try it on," Undertaker beckoned her, leaving her to change into it. As she stepped into it, the dress was a perfect fit for her. Undertaker returned to tie the corset, laying her hair in front of her shoulders. After clasping the choker to her neck, Undertaker let her look into the mirror.

"You look lovely," he said.

"Why do I have to wear this?" Vivian asked. "Surely it's not for the shop."

"Not for the shop, for the council."

"The council?" Vivian asked.

"Yes, if I'm going to present a mortal to the Grim Reaper Dispatch Association, she best be going as the Queen herself."

Undertaker leaned over her shoulder a while longer, telling her that tomorrow night, he would take her after his shift; plus, she had to be up early to meet him at the shop. Vivian sighed. This was a lot to take in.

"There's no going back once you do this," Undertaker warned. "Make sure you know exactly what you're doing."

That was the problem. As Undertaker left her house, Vivian changed out of the dress and kept it lying on the only chair in her room. She loved him. What more could be said? He seemed to love her, but his feelings were always near unreadable to her. But this was dealing with Death himself. And who are the council?

Usually, the vows were 'until death do they part'. What did that mean now? Do they actually part in death? Undertaker was already dead...sort of. He never seemed to eat anything substantial, so food must be optional. His body functions, so she supposed he was alive enough.

Vivian continued picking at these thoughts as she lay down to sleep.

She met him early the next morning, wondering what this was about, and for once, he was on time and not hiding from her view.

"You would give up this life...for me?" Undertaker asked once more. Vivian nodded.

"Yes I would," she replied. "What was it you wanted to discuss?"

"I need you to understand that by going through with this means you can have no contact with your living relatives. You will not be a grim reaper, but you will be immortal. I will present you to the council, and since your time of death was incorrect and you interacted with me, they may compensate you for their error.

"In the meantime, get used to dressing like a high class woman. If you're going to be with me, then that is what you will become and how I will present you. I will accept nothing less. Pardon my short change at the moment."

Undertaker placed a few silver coins into Vivian's hand, saying that he'd made all the necessary preparations and was making final touches on the rest of whatever it was he had planned. Vivian was giving a royal blue dress to wear for today, matching with her crystal necklace already. Undertaker always seemed to notice she wore that necklace very often.

She snickered as she ran her fingers along the braid in his hair she'd put there.

"You still have this..."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I'm sure you've worked a few shifts and had a few close calls since I did this, yet it seems in perfect condition, as though you've never touched it once," she noted.

"That's because I haven't," Undertaker said. "Though, I may ask that you recreate it on the day I present you."

"Why don't you wear your glasses that much?" Vivian asked. "It's obvious you need them."

"When I retire as a grim reaper, I must return them. I'm attempting to get by without them," he replied. "It's an adjustment."

"What happens when I'm presented to the board?" Vivian asked. Undertaker laughed a little.

"All right, last question for you today," he said. "You just need to show me that you trust me. The rest is mine to bear."

She swallowed, keeping the answer as it was, as much as she wished for an elaboration. Work was fine, and closing up the shop looked as normal as any other night when she retrieved the keys from her pocket.

The sound of a switchblade hit her ears, but it was too late. The metal had already touched her neck, her back was turned. Whomever it was, they wanted the keys to Undertaker's shop. Who on earth would want to break into a coffin shop unless they needed money? Even then, it was a rather low target on the scale of the bank just around the corner.

Closing her eyes, Vivian didn't know if this was her new day to die, but from the sound of Undertaker's voice today, she wouldn't have suspected it. This man wasn't going to kill her.

"Ugh, what the hell do you want?" she asked, turning her body to face the man with the knife to her throat. She was right, he was too much of a coward to kill a lady, even amongst the criminal night-lined sky. Dressed nobly and speaking to a man in this manner. Totally Vivian.

He demanded the keys again and the cash, but already he was quivering before her. She could feel the shaking of his hands as he dragged her a few meters away from the shop, still threatening her with the knife, but Vivian was no longer scared of any attempt at her life.

Leaning into the blade and smirking, Vivian could already feel herself letting go.

"How pathetic. A man would fail to hit a lady, how noble of you, though your advance was rather poor I must say," she was but a few centimeters from the man's face, and he'd been managing to hang on and continue to threaten her, but not once was a stab attempted or a throat slit.

From behind him, a silver curved blade emerged and wrapped around his throat, and the man was forced to reel himself backwards, straight into Undertaker's body. Vivian thought he'd been long gone on shift by this time of night.

"Not today," Undertaker said. The man was let go, but he tripped over a hole in the road, smashing his head a good one on the stone. Undertake watched him, as did Vivian while he struggled for himself and used a wall to proper himself up again.

Undertaker held Vivian back from going over to him, and the man himself led to his own demise. Another man, in quite a hurry, accidentally ran over Vivian's threat, whizzing passed like nothing happened, and then the man laid there to struggle. Undertaker thrusted his death scythe forth and took his soul right in front of Vivian.

"There," he said, closing his book and looking back at Vivian. "My rounds are done for the next hour or so."

"Okay," was all she could say.

"Thanks for locking up," he said, securing another payment into her hands. "That's the rest of what's left."

He walked her home, reassuring her that the entire thing would be just fine, but he never told her a specific date on when this meeting was taking place.