NOT EDITED

Ethan Wright walked into the house, a hand wrapped tightly around the doorknob. For a moment, he considered slamming the door to take out even one of his frustrations, but he knew his father was still asleep. Squeezing his eyes shut, he closed the door with a quiet click instead. He headed back to his room and kicked off his shoes. He sat down on the edge of the bed, dropping his head to his hands.

He had school tomorrow. Monday. The kids in his class were even more aggressive on Mondays than they were any other day of the week. There was always a pop quiz in English on Mondays, and the one thing Ethan was good at was vocabulary. He wasn’t an extraordinary student or a genius by any means, but his high scores on the vocab sections of tests in any subject always pissed off Derek Cox and all of his little minions.

Ethan groaned, falling to his back on the bed. He couldn’t even blame the bullying on the American teen movie stereotype that he was intelligent and they were just dumb jocks. Ethan was only good at English and History, and Derek and his friends didn’t even play any sports. Ethan had been in football and track since the seventh grade. Derek and his friends just played role-playing board games after school.

Ethan draped an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light shining through his window. He figured Dad could just call in for him tomorrow and keep him home from school. Dad, still wrapped in his grief from his wife’s death over a decade ago, did his best for Ethan, and the boy was more than aware of that. Dad didn’t really understand the depression, the bullying, or the suicidal thoughts, so he always just let Ethan stay home if he asked.

It wasn’t much, but it was an effort, and Ethan appreciated it. It was more than some depressed kids got from their parents. He sat up, grabbing his pill bottle from the nightstand. He shook one into his hand and twisted off the cap of his water bottle. Closing his eyes, he downed the pill with a swig of warm water.

Ethan scrubbed his hands over his face and pushed his fingers into his hair. “Shower,” he mumbled with a short nod. Shower first, supper later, worrying about school even later. He’d love to never worry about it again, but that just wasn’t an option. Dad needed him.

So for now, later would have to do.

***

Miles stood backstage with one of Laura Fox’s bodyguards. Laura was the oldest of his guarded souls. She was twenty-seven years old and an incredibly popular singer in the United States. With fame, of course, came the crazies. Stalkers, crazed fans. It was what had, at some point, made Hector decide she needed Miles’s protection. It was impossible to know when a fan or stalker would break pattern, when a single step left instead of right would lead them to bypass fate and kill Laura instead.

And that was where Miles came in. He couldn’t precisely predict an event before it happened—he wasn’t a psychic, for God’s sake—but he could still step in to stop an event from occurring much quicker than any human could.

Brown eyes still on the crowd, he reached back and pulled his phone from his pocket as it buzzed. He had a text from an unknown number, but the message alone let him know it was Lucifer. Miles unlocked the device and added the Devil’s number to his contacts.

Lucifer: Meet your guardian Angels, kid.

Miles took a small step back as four Fallen Angels appeared before him on the stage. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

“The humans cannot see us. We are a lot like you, Miles. While you make yourself solid enough to not fall through floors, we can choose to be seen or remain hidden to the humans,” the taller male Fallen said. His dark hair was pulled back in a bun, his eyes the same deep violet as the button-up he had on under his black suit jacket. “Virgil,” he said, sticking out a hand.

Miles shook his hand, eyes quickly flicking back to the crowd gathered for Laura’s concert. No danger yet. None that his little Reaper eyes could see, anyway. “Miles.”

Virgil nodded. “Yes.” He turned to the short woman beside him. She wore a white dress, a denim jacket pulled over her arms. A light pink ascot was tied around her neck, the color almost a perfect match for her eyes. Her hair was a deep, dark red, cut short on the sides and curly in the middle, swooping over the right side of her face. “Felice,” Virgil introduced.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Felice said, shaking Miles’s hand.

“You, too,” Miles said with a nod.

The second woman stuck out a hand. “Vequaniel.” Miles shook her hand. She was taller than Felice, dark blue hair pulled back in a ponytail, amber-golden eyes focused on Miles’s face.

The second man offered a smile and grabbed Miles’s hand. “Haroth.” He was the only Fallen of the four that was black. While Virgil’s skin was darker than the girls’, Miles was pretty sure he just saw the sun outside of Hell more often than the other three did. Haroth’s hair was short, dark, and curly, his eyes a near pastel yellow.

“So…” Miles trailed off, looking back at the crowd again. He scanned the people clapping and cheering before dragging his gaze back to the Fallen. “Now what?”

“Now you tell us where to go,” Virgil said.

“I know this is a lot to take in at first,” Felice said, her voice light. “The Fallen can seem… rather formidable at first, but we are not evil.” Her voice, while soft and quiet, held a raspy quality, like she had just woken up from a nap and hadn’t quite cleared her throat just yet. “We… are here to help you, Miles. We will not hurt those souls. We are here to help you protect them.”

“Lucifer’s filled you in on the whole picture here, right? Like, how I might destroy the world?” Miles asked.

Haroth laughed. “It is no skin off our backs. The world has not been kind to us, Miles. For all I care, burn the whole place down.” The other Fallen nodded their agreement.

Miles shook his head, swallowing as he looked back out at the crowd again. Was it safe to trust four beings that were entirely okay with destroying the world? To trust them with the lives of his most treasured souls? No, most likely not. Did he have a choice? Absolutely not. “I have three souls to protect. Hector wants one of them dead within the next three days, but he won’t tell me which one it’s going to be. I–I guess that’s where you guys come in, right?”

“Right,” Virgil said.

“Karen, my youngest soul, she can still see me. She thinks I’m her imaginary friend. See, she needs that. So you can only watch her closely if you’re willing to let her play with you, if you’re willing to be her imaginary friend, as well. Can you do that without her mother or father seeing you?” Miles asked.

“Yes. It is easier for kids to see us. They are more sensitive to beings outside of this world. It takes less of our strength to make ourselves known to them,” Virgil said.

Miles nodded. “Vequaniel? She, umm, Karen would love to play with your hair, if you’re okay with that.”

One corner of the Fallen’s mouth lifted. “Okay. I will watch over her,” Vequaniel said.

“Thank you,” the Reaper whispered. The blue-haired Fallen simply nodded before vanishing, the soft sound of wings beating left in her wake. “Ethan’s suicidal. School’s hard for him, home’s hard for him. He needs a lot of extra care, a lot of safety precautions.”

“I can do it,” Felice said. “I will text you if something appears to be wrong with the boy.”

“Thank you,” Miles repeated. The Fallen vanished, and the beating of wings filled the air once more. Miles looked between the two men left before him. He gestured to the woman on stage. “That’s my Laura. Crazy fans. Stalkers. She’s received a lot of threatening letters recently. Someone’s broken into her place twice. They’ve replaced her locks, and she has a new security system in place, but the concerts are dangerous. Leaving her house is dangerous.”

“I will watch over her,” Haroth said. He elbowed Virgil in the side. “You stay with the little Reaper. If something is wrong, we can tell you instead of texting him. If you are beside him, you can tell him what is going on.”

“Does that work for you?” Virgil asked. He touched two fingers to his temple. “The Fallen can hear each other, no matter how far apart we are. It will be much quicker than a text message.”

“Okay,” Miles agreed. Haroth turned, leaning against a wooden support beam, pastel yellow eyes on Laura’s figure. “We can stay here until something comes in. I have another half hour or so to kill before any souls need reaping.”

“All right.” Virgil crossed his arms over his chest. “I am truly sorry that Hector has decided to try and rip these souls from you after getting you attached to them. Hector is… a dick, and I do believe that is putting it nicely.”

Miles nodded. “Well, there is that.” He pulled his hat from his head, raking a hand through his hair and tousling it as he scratched his scalp a bit more aggressively than necessary. “I saw Anna today after I talked to her about… about my plan to protect these three souls. He slapped her. He must have. I could see his damn handprint on her cheek. She wouldn’t even talk to me,” he whispered. With a sniffle, he pushed his hat back onto his head. “She’s all I got, and she wouldn’t even speak to me.”

“Anna is a kind soul,” Virgil said softly. “Honestly, she most likely did not want you to feel as though it were your fault. If I had to guess, that is all it was. Her silence or avoidance had nothing to do with you as a person, or Reaper, I am sure. She only wanted to save you from placing blame on yourself when the incident did not, and does not, belong on your shoulders.”

“Maybe. I hope so.”

“Hector hitting her is not your fault, little Reaper. If she was concerned about getting hit or being in any form of danger at his hands, she would not have let you speak with her. She would have sent you on your merry way and been done with it. That is not your fault. She is a big girl, and she can make her own decisions and handle the consequences that come from them,” Virgil said.

“Thank you,” Miles mumbled. He chuckled, shaking his head. “I feel like I’m going insane.”

Virgil laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “We all are, Miles. There is simply no way around that. We are… insane.” The Fallen smiled down at him. “Live it up, little Reaper. The world as we know it is going to end in three days.”

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NOT EDITED

Miles pushed his glasses up on his nose and locked his hands behind his head as he paced the length of his little office. Karen, Ethan, and Laura. All three souls were… beyond important to him. He loved them. He loved the souls, the people they belonged to. They gave him access to the part of himself that still remembered what it was like to be human. They made him feel human.

He couldn’t lose that. He couldn’t lose them. He needed them.

There was no way around that for Miles. The souls were important to him. They were his three treasured souls. He didn’t care what Hector said. He didn’t care that keeping them alive could end the world.

Okay. Fine. Maybe he cared a little. But they were important to him! He needed them! He couldn’t continue to live for the rest of eternity knowing that he gave up on his three favorite souls. They were all too young to go now. They all had a hell of a lot more life left to live. There was no doubt about that. He couldn’t let Hector take that from him, from them, no matter what.

Miles stopped pacing, stooping down to grab his hat. He placed it on his head and walked out of his office, pulling the door closed behind him. He went downstairs and through the small living room of his tiny apartment. Outside in the warm, red and black halls, he shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way toward the stairs.

He headed down another hall and stopped at a door. Drawing in a deep breath, he knocked on it. Several seconds later, it opened.

A dark-haired man several inches taller than him stood there, head cocked to one side. He wore dark jeans and a black tank-top, a blazer thrown over his shoulders. He smiled, red eyes on Miles’s face. “Hiya, Miles.”

“Lucifer,” Miles greeted.

“Wanna come in?” Miles only nodded. Lucifer took a step back, holding out an arm. “Sorry for the warmth. Hell hath no mercy on a man with mortal body temperatures.”

Miles snorted, following Lucifer back to his desk. “I’m more or less used to it,” the short Reaper assured.

Lucifer nodded, dropping into the chair behind his desk. He gestured to one of the chairs in front of it. After a tentative moment of considering if Lucifer was really who he wanted to make friends with, Miles sat down. “Something I can do for you today?” the Devil asked.

“I think I just… need to get my mind off a few things. Anna suggested I mingle.” Miles held out his arms for a moment.

Lucifer chuckled as a man materialized behind his chair, hands on the Devil’s shoulders. Briefly, Lucifer reached up and patted his hand. “Dear old Anna. She doesn’t understand how any of us can survive without constantly conversing with friends.” He shook his head, leaning back as he folded his hands over his chest. “What’s on your mind?”

“You don’t wanna hear my problems.”

“Oh, come on, Miles. We’re both in the soul business, aren’t we? You can talk to me,” Lucifer said.

Miles cleared his throat, shifting nervously in his seat. “I have these… three souls that I like. They make me feel, you know, human.”

“Mm.” Lucifer nodded. “Those are hard to come by. I have a few that help me feel like Daddy didn’t throw me from heaven for funsies.” He raised an eyebrow. “What about them has you so bothered?”

“Fate plans to kill one of them in the next three days.”

Lucifer let out a loud whistle. “Ouch.”

Miles nodded. “I know. A–and he’s the one that assigned those souls to me in the first place. They’re flight risks, and he wanted to make sure I kept them on Earth until it was their real time to go. I was supposed to protect them. I am supposed to protect them. He assigned that job to me.”

“Ah. So Hector’s still a fucking wanker, huh?” Lucifer asked. Again, Miles only nodded. “You’re going to end the world, aren’t you?”

“Well, I, uh, I’m going to try not to. I’m going to do everything I can to keep them safe. I’m just hoping it’s not as, you know… detrimental to the world as everyone says it is.”

“And if it is?”

“Then so be it. I’ll do anything to save them from Fate, end of the world or not.”

“Pretty bold for a little Reaper.” The Devil nodded. “I like you, Miles. I’ll help.” The man behind him flashed his pure black, soulless eyes at the Reaper.

Miles swallowed. “I–I wasn’t asking for help.”

“Miles, kid, when an Archangel offers to help you maybe destroy the world, you should accept the offer,” Lucifer said.

“Well…” Miles cleared his throat. “Yeah. Umm, thank you. I–I think I need all the help I can get.”

“Of course. Protecting three souls from Fate is just… too much for one Reaper to handle,” Lucifer said. “Making and keeping friends is good for you, Miles. Angels, Demons, the Fallen. Doesn’t matter. We’re stronger in numbers.”

“I know. Friends make me nervous. Relationships make me nervous.”

“Understandable.” Lucifer snapped his fingers, and a glass of whiskey appeared in his hand. He wrapped his fingers around it. “Want any?”

Miles shook his head. “The, uh, last time I drank alcohol, my friends murdered me, so…”

“Ouch,” Lucifer whispered. “Sorry, little Reaper.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t kill me,” Miles said simply.

“Well, there is that,” Lucifer agreed. “So, what’s your plan? How do you plan to keep these three souls safe from Hector?”

“I was mostly going to jump back and forth between them and do everything I could to keep them out of harm’s way. Each of them suffers danger from something totally different, and my youngest soul is the only one that can actually see me. The other two are a bit harder to protect. They can’t see me, so I have to physically pull them out of certain situations without making my interference too obvious to them or those around them. It hasn’t been easy,” Miles said.

Lucifer nodded. “The Reaper before Anna? Did you ever meet him?” Miles shook his head. “Hector assigned souls to him, too. Souls to protect, I mean. It was too hard for him, and he stole an Angel Blade to kill himself with.” Lucifer took a sip of his whiskey. “You’re stronger than he was, Miles. You’ve fought through the challenges and protected those souls. It’s just three more days. You can do it, and I’ll do what I can to help.”

“Even… if it ends the world?” Miles asked.

Lucifer smiled. “Even if.”

“I, uh, really appreciate that, Lucifer. Just… thank you.”

Lucifer nodded. “Are you always this nervous?”

“I mean… kinda? But, umm, but I usually don’t make deals with the Devil.”

Lucifer laughed. The statement even seemed to pull a small smile from the Demon behind him. If nothing else, it made him look a little less killy than before. “Miles, this isn’t some evil deal we’re making. I’m offering to help because I hate Hector and my father. So if we end the world, I honestly don’t give much of a damn.”

“And you said I was bold.”

“You are. For a Reaper,” Lucifer said. “Look, I have a few Fallen under my belt that can help you watch over your souls. They can’t explicitly protect them, though. Father takes away a lot of their strength when he casts them out, and the things that may be easy for you and I can entirely drain them of their strength. So, you have a phone?” Miles nodded. “Good. I’ll give them your phone number and they’ll watch after the souls, call you when something’s wrong.”

“Can they call when something seems any bit off or dangerous? I don’t want to risk anything. I need them to be safe, like, one hundred percent.” Miles said.

Lucifer nodded. “Of course. Leave your number, okay? I’ll set something up with the Fallen and get back to you. They’re my family, so I expect you to treat them with the respect they deserve.”

“I will. I respect just about everyone that isn’t Hector.”

Lucifer snorted. “You and me both, brother.” He pushed himself to his feet and tossed his phone to Miles. The Reaper fumbled for a moment before holding it to his chest. “Put your number in there. I’ve got something lower level to deal with.”

“Okay.”

Lucifer turned to the Demon. “Behave yourself.”

The black-eyed being smiled. “I’ll do my best, my King.”

“Mm.” Lucifer squeezed his hand before turning back to Miles. “You can leave if you get bored. I don’t know how long this’ll take. Either way, just leave my phone on the desk and I’ll get back to you. Sound good?”

“Yes. Umm, thank you,” Miles said.

Lucifer nodded. “No problem, Miles.”

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NOT EDITED

Miles glanced up at the nameplate on the door in the hall, eyes skimming over the capital FATE written in silver letters. His eyes narrowed as he pushed the door open, forgoing what he would usually consider a professionally necessary knock. His boss looked up at him, annoyance flashing in his electric blue eyes. “Which one?” Miles asked.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Fate—who chose to go by Hector more often than not—said simply, eyes falling back to his laptop.

“Why not? You always give me a name so I can harvest the soul. Give me a name,” Miles said.

“If I do that, you’ll just hover around them to keep them safe, and I can’t have that happening, Miles. It interrupts the natural order of things, and I won’t let you ruin the very thing that holds this planet together.”

“Two of them are children, Hector. Karen’s only seven!”

“That’s unnecessary. I can hear you just fine without you raising your voice at me.”

“She’s seven,” Miles emphasized, forcing his voice to remain calm and level.

“I’m more than aware. You have a job to do, Miles, souls to harvest. Hop to it.”

“You assigned me to protect those kids, Hector. You did that, not me. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Yes, thank you for the recap, but I’m already more than aware of that,” Hector said, sounding bored. “You’ve been assigned to protect high-risk souls many times over the years. These three just needed your protection longer than most of the others. I didn’t tell you to form an attachment to them. You did that. You knew they would all die eventually, and you still grew attached to all three of them, like a human would. Regardless, this job isn’t supposed to be easy, Miles. That isn’t the point of all of this.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve texted you your names for the day. Go on out there and do your job. Believe it or not, you were assigned to do that, as well.”

Miles stared at the dark-haired, blue-eyed being, briefly wishing that killing Hector would solve all of his problems. But between Hector being immortal and Hector being Fate, it would most likely do more damage than good. It wouldn’t even begin to fix the situation at hand. It wouldn’t turn back Fate’s plans for the universe, his grand design for it all.

Miles’s eyes narrowed at his boss before the being’s hard gaze finally drove him out of the room. Miles closed the door behind him, closing his eyes to force himself not to slam it shut like he so desperately wanted to. It wouldn’t have done him or his souls any good anyway. It only would have angered Fate. Miles figured that was one of the things he needed to avoid doing for now. Maybe keeping his mouth shut and playing nice would buy him an extra day or two with his souls.

Heartbeat or not, it felt like the muscle was pounding in his chest, thumping against his rib cage, trying everything it could to leap into his throat. But when he laid a hand over his heart, there was no movement, no sound. There was just… nothing, one more not so subtle reminder that Miles was far from human and had no right to be attached to any of those souls.

“Three days,” Miles whispered, leaning back against the door. He squeezed his eyes shut, a hand still resting over his non-beating heart. Three days. Seventy-two hours. At the end of it, Hector would make him harvest the soul of one of his most treasured humans. Miles knew it wasn’t a joke or some sick ploy so Hector could get his way in some pointless battle.

It was reality. It was sick and disgusting, and it made Miles’s stomach churn, but it was the reality.

Miles was Death, and inherently, he was a villain to many humans. He was the bad guy in so many of their personal stories and endeavors. It was supposed to be something permanent and constant about him. It was supposed to be the one thing he would always be able to do, the one thing he would always stick to until the day he retired and passed the not so literal scythe over to the next Reaper.

Miles was supposed to be the bad guy in this world. It was his job, and he was supposed to accept that. But he couldn’t. Not this time.

He opened his eyes, pushing himself away from the door. For the next seventy-two hours, regardless of what his boss said, Miles planned to do everything he could to continue to protect his treasured souls. He wouldn’t let Fate get in the way of their lives. They were far too young to die. Despite what Hector said, it wasn’t their time to go. Fate or not, he was wrong. They weren’t dying, not now.

Not if Miles had anything to say about it. And, oh boy, did he have a lot to say.

***

“Okay, hear me out,” Miles said, pacing the office.

Justice—a former Reaper who tended to go by the name Anna—leaned forward in her chair, crossing her arms over her desk. “I’m listening,” she said.

“Hector’s gonna kill one of my kids. He’s gonna do it, and he won’t tell me which one he’s gonna kill. He doesn’t want me to know, ‘cause if I do, he thinks I’ll stop it from happening.”

“Would you?” Anna asked.

“I would definitely try.”

“Right.”

“He said it’s gonna be in three days. Or… or within three days.”

“Okay.”

“So for the next three days, I’m gonna do everything I can to protect them. Like, even more hardcore than I have been, right? So, like, I’ll follow Ethan to school to help protect him from the bullies. If the bullies don’t touch him all day, he won’t be quite as likely to think about harming himself by the time he gets home. And I’ll follow Laura to her concerts and help her bodyguards keep back the crazies. I’ll follow Karen around and make sure she doesn’t come in contact with anything too dangerous for her immune system. I’ll fluff up her health a couple times if I have to. But I won’t let any of them die. I won’t let him kill them.”

Anna watched him for a long moment before reaching up to tuck her white hair behind her ears. “Okay, so… you want to tip the Scales?” she asked.

“I don’t want to. I need to. I can’t let them die, Anna. I can’t.”

“Miles, honey, I love you, but this is… dangerous.”

“I know,” he whispered. “God, Lucifer, Fate, Justice, humanity, I know.”

“What do you want me to say?” Anna asked.

“I need to know if it’s possible.”

“Anything’s possible. It’s about whether or not it should be done. And this… should not. You know that.”

“God, of course I know.” Miles stopped pacing, whirling around to face her. “Can I do it, though?”

If she still had a beating heart, she knew it would melt at his appearance. Miles, short little five-foot-six Miles, with his brown hair, chocolate eyes, and glasses. Miles, with his dark jeans, denim button-up, and fedora. He was an innocent in the grand scheme of things, nothing but a dead college kid that had been forced to reap souls for several hundreds of years.

“Honey, you can do anything you want to,” Anna said slowly. “But you need to weigh the benefits against the risks and decide if it’s something you’re still willing to try.”

“Well… well, I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted.

“That’s okay. We can talk through that if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” A pause. “Would you like to take a seat?”

With an air of hesitance, Miles crossed the room and dropped into the chair in front of Anna’s desk. “Okay,” he said quietly, “now what?”

“Now we look at the pros and the cons.”

“Well, an obvious pro—”

“Don’t start with the pros. Everyone starts with the pros.”

Miles offered a slow nod. “Okay. So… a con is that I could end the world.”

“Yeah, I’d say that one should be at the top of the list,” she agreed. “Now go with a pro.”

“Pro, none of the undeserving children die.”

“Okay.”

“Umm, con, I don’t think a Reaper has ever interfered before?”

“Correct. And why is that a con?”

“Because we don’t know what’ll happen if I interfere and keep their souls here past Fate’s set date.”

“Right. Another pro?” Anna questioned.

“I–I don’t have another one.” Miles’s brow furrowed. “Does that mean I can’t do it?”

“No, honey. It’s okay. Pros and cons aren’t measured by how many of each you have; they’re measured by how important each side is to you. So which side is more important to you?”

“I feel like you want me to say making sure I don’t implode the Earth.”

“No, I want you to say whichever feels true in your heart, beating or not,” Anna said.

Miles pulled his hat off his head, holding it in his lap as he stared down at the floor. “I can’t let them die, Anna. They’re all I have.” His head snapped up, eyes locking with hers. “Except you. I have you. I just… You know what I mean.”

“I know, honey.”

“I’m lonely. I’ve been lonely for a hundred years, Anna. These last seven years with Karen? The last three with Ethan? The two with Laura? Even though Karen’s the only one that can see me, I’ve never felt lonely around any of them. I need them,” Miles said.

“Well, then I do believe you have your answer,” Anna said, her voice soft.

He fell silent for a long while, toying with the hat in his hands. “I’m gonna end the world, Anna.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“I have a pretty good idea that we do.” He raked a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead and catching it beneath his hat. He sniffled. “You don’t gotta tell Hector I was in here. He doesn’t need to know you know anything about any of this. I didn’t even wanna drag you into it, but, you know… I haven’t had many friends since mine killed me, and I just needed to talk it through with someone that wasn’t me.”

“Honey.” Anna sighed, pushing herself to her feet. She rounded her desk and squatted down in front of him, crossing her arms over her knees. “You didn’t drag me into anything. If I didn’t want to talk to you about this, I would’ve kicked you out of my office as soon as you started talking. Okay?” He nodded. “Everything’s gonna be okay, Miles. You’re a loveable little dork. Go mingle with the Fallen or with Mul. Heck, even Lucifer’s not that bad. Hector and I aren’t your only options for communication.”

“I know.” Miles closed his eyes, scrubbing both hands over his face. “I’m gonna go.”

“Okay.” Anna stood up, leaning back against her desk as Miles rose to his feet. “I’m sorry he sprung this on you, honey.”

“Me, too.” Miles stepped around the chair, lifting a tentative hand. “I’ll see you around, Anna.”

“Okay, Miles. I’ll be here,” she said. He nodded and walked out of her office, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. Anna let out a sigh, shaking her head. She tapped her nails against the surface of her desk, head cocked to the side. “How long have you been back there?”

Hector cleared his throat, materializing behind her desk. He pushed himself away from the wall. “Oh, since about, ‘You don’t gotta tell Hector’.” He rounded the desk, wrapping a hand around Anna’s chin. “Souls have an expiration date, Anna.”

“Yep.”

“Maybe while he’s out protecting his souls, I’ll end your pathetic existence. He wouldn’t try to end the world if you were gone,” he said, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck.

“Do it, then. If you knew anything about that poor boy, you’d know how stupid this is. You think killing his only friend stops him from ending the world? Killing his only friend reinforces the idea that ending the world is the right call,” Anna said. “But do whatever you feel is necessary, Hector. Let’s see how it pans out for you in the end.”

With a low growl, he pushed himself away from her. “Stop helping Miles.”

“I’m not helping him do anything. Talking to him isn’t helping him end the world.”

“Don’t test me, Anna.”

“Don’t be a dick, Hector.”

His palm collided with her cheek, and near regret quickly clouded his expression. “Anna, I’m so sorry.”

Her baby blue eyes flicked up to his face before she swung a fist into his jaw. “Get out of my fucking office, Hector. Next time you lay a hand on me? I’ll hire Lucifer to do my dirty work for me and end your ass. Clear?”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, you’re not. Although I do suggest not bitch slapping Justice in the face,” Anna said. Her cheek stung just enough to be uncomfortable, Hector’s handprint already burning red on the pale, pale skin of her face. “Get out, Hector.” He kept his eyes on her for a moment longer, finally nodding before walking out of her office. He closed the door behind him. Anna sighed, laying a hand on her cheek.

Very few options between Heaven and Hell or not, she still couldn’t believe she used to date the bastard.

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NOT EDITED

Sunday: September 4, 2016

Miles sat on the bedroom’s carpeted floor, legs folded Indian style, elbows resting on his knees, hands locked together in front of him. A young girl stood behind him, playing with his dark hair. “What style we going for today, Kare?” he asked.

“Mm… lots of little ponytails, I think. Just, like, all over the place,” the girl said.

Miles chuckled. “Of course. Have at it, then.” Karen Hawkes, only seven years old, was still young enough that she could see Miles while he presented himself in his human form, which is what he tended to remain in. He much preferred the fashion and personality that came with his human form to the utter nothingness that came with his black and silver smoky, spirited form, even when he was in Hell.

For all seven years of the young girl’s life, he had worked to keep her safe and protect her soul from any untimely doom. His boss, Fate, assigned him to the job the very day the child was born, and Miles had done everything he possibly could for her since.

Born with a rare and severe autoimmune disease, the child had always been at risk of dying long before her soul reached its official expiration date. It was Miles’s job to make sure that didn’t happen, for when a human died before their soul expired, it remained trapped on Earth for years upon years, living in pain and anger.

“How’s your pain today, Kare?” Miles asked.

“It’s okay. Daddy already gave me my meds and my shot,” Karen said. She combed her fingers through his hair, shaking her head almost distastefully. “Your hair’s gross, Miles. It’s all greasy.”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll fix that for ya, okay?”

“Okay.”

Miles lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. His scalp warmed, the smell of mint enveloping them both. Karen giggled, pushing her fingers back into his soft hair. “Better?”

“Much.” Karen looked around the room for a moment before a frown formed on her little face. “Do you have any hair thingies?”

“Hold out your hands.” Karen did as told, and when Miles snapped his fingers this time, a pile of small, elastic hair ties appeared in her hands. She grinned, setting them on the footstool at her side. Miles looked down at his watch. He had to be in Texas for a harvest in an hour, but he was in no rush. For him, the trip between Seattle and Austin was nothing but a blink of an eye.

He figured that was an advantage to being an immortal being caught somewhere between Demon and Angel.

Karen looked back over her shoulder as the door to her room opened. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, baby.” Ryan Hawkes stepped into the bedroom, a plate of apple slices in his hand. “Is Miles here?”

“Yeah! I’m doing his hair.”

Ryan smiled softly. “Sweet. You’ll do great, baby. Where is he? I don’t wanna set the plate on him.”

“You can just put it on his lap, Daddy. He’s right here,” Karen said, patting the top of Miles’s head. Miles closed his eyes, forcing himself to release the strength in his legs while summoning enough in his hands to keep him propped up on the floor. The plate touched the floor as Ryan set it down on Miles’s lap, a glaring chill ripping through Miles’s leg and snaking up his spine. As far as Ryan was concerned, Miles was Karen’s imaginary best friend. Since Ryan was too old to see him, doing everything he could to feed into that belief was his best option.

Or, at the very least, it was a better option than Ryan setting a plate down on what he would see as thin air and it… simply remaining there, floating.

“Make sure to eat, baby,” Ryan said, pressing a kiss to the girl’s temple.

“Okay, Daddy.”

Once Ryan left, Miles opened his eyes and picked up the plate. He allowed his strength to course back through his legs and set the plate down on his thigh instead. “Just tell me when you want a slice.”

“Okay, Mi-Mi.”

On Earth, Miles tended to feel like a ghost. He was invisible to most people, and more often than not, people walked right through him. He was capable of disappearing between walls—he had even accidentally slipped through the floor once while Karen was combing his hair—and he could muster up the strength to let people touch him. This was what he did for Karen. Without the strength, her hands would slip right through his face, which was a sensation Miles had never quite enjoyed, to say the least.

“Apple,” Karen said.

Miles picked up an apple slice and held it back over his shoulder. Karen leaned down to grab it between her teeth. “Anything special planned today?”

“Daddy wants to go to the park,” Karen said after a moment. “The sun feels good most days.”

“That’s good. The sun’ll help you feel better, make you stronger.”

“I hope so. Daddy thinks it will, too. I don’t like feeling icky.” She held a hair tie on two of her fingers and gathered up a little section of Miles’s hair, promptly twisting the elastic around it. She giggled happily, tugging on the tiny ponytail atop his head to tighten it. Far too quickly, her laughter faded away. “Mom says the sun’s just the sun and it won’t do anything that the medicine hasn’t done. Am I gonna die, Miles?”

“I won’t let you.”

“Promise?”

Miles caught sight of her pinky finger in his peripheral. He wrapped his pinky around hers. “Promise.”

***

Miles wrapped a hand around the man’s upper arm as he walked down the sidewalk. He had to take two steps to match every single stride of the man’s, but he did it without complaint for the whole ten seconds it took for the soul to disconnect from the rest of the body. Soulless, the man walked out into the street. A bus driver laid on his horn and slammed on the brakes, but it didn’t matter. It was designed by Fate. Nothing they could have done could have stopped it.

The man’s body crumpled under the force of the bus before it skidded to a stop.

“I…”

“It can be alarming at first,” Miles said.

The man’s soul turned to stare at him. The hazy outline of all that remained of the man flashed between yellow and gray. Fear and confusion. Miles didn’t blame him. They usually came out fearful and confused or angry and looking for someone to blame. That someone usually ended up being Miles. He couldn’t blame them for that, either. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re dead, Gary,” Miles said. “I’m sorry. It happens when we least expect it.”

“What is…? What happens now?” the man, Gary, asked, his voice unsteady.

“Now you get to move on. I know what happened is hard, but now you get to leave Earth and move onto your Afterlife.” Miles laid a hand on Gary’s shoulder and turned him around. “That beautiful pink light over there?”

“That giant slit in the sky?” Gary asked.

“Yeah, that. That’s your happiness, Gary. Everything that ever made you happy is waiting for you there, in your own little world,” Miles said.

“Really?”

“Really.”

The yellow surrounding Gary’s soul faded, and bright orange quickly replaced it. Curiosity. “So I just… walk through it? And that’s it?”

“That’s it. Walk right on through there, and you get to be happy for the rest of eternity, Gary.”

“Thank you,” Gary whispered, looking back at Miles over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Miles smiled softly. “It’s what I’m here for.” He squeezed the man’s shoulder. “Move on and be happy, Gary.” The man looked away from Miles and headed down the sidewalk. Miles watched Gary until he disappeared. The pink light dissolved in the sky after him, returning to nothing but a boring blue.

Miles turned around and walked the opposite way, away from the confusion and noise that arose as an aftermath of the bus accident. He pulled his phone from his pocket as it dinged, quickly stepping out of the way of a jogging man. The man’s hand still managed to slip through his chest. Miles shivered, rolling his shoulders back. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to that.

He unlocked his screen and opened the text message from his boss.

The F-Man: One of your souls dies within the next three days, no exceptions.

Miles stumbled, grabbing the signpost at the corner. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he could feel his heart racing in his chest, even though it hadn’t beat even once in over a hundred years. He couldn’t allow those twelve words to come true, or he’d never be the same again.

He loved each of his three protected souls. Fate couldn’t just rip one of them out from under him now. He couldn’t!

Could he?

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NOT EDITED

It’s entirely unavoidable, entirely inevitable. While some choose to take death into their own hands and choose to take away their life on their own time, the majority of people aren’t in control of the overarching process or the outcome. They don’t know how or when they’ll die. They don’t know if they’ll be alone when it happens or if they’ll be surrounded by family and loved ones. They don’t know if they’ll be in pain as they gasp for their last breath of air or if they’ll live in bliss for that last moment before they simply close their eyes for the final time.

The fear of death is the second most common fear in the United States, wedged right in between public speaking at number one and spiders at number three.

Three hundred and twenty-three-point-four million people, and two hundred nineteen thousand, nine hundred and twelve of them are scared of dying. It’s a combination fear, one that isn’t simply fear of just the obvious, a fear of just death. It’s more than what it seems on the surface. People who fear death aren’t solely scared of the act of dying in itself. It’s a deeply profound fear, a fear of darkness, seclusion, and the unknown. It’s a fear of the Valkyries of Norse, Thanatos of Greece, the Grim Reaper of modern times.

Today, that fear is of Miles, a short little immortal being that lives in the uppermost level of Hell. Harvesting most souls and tasked with protecting the lives and well-being of three others, he can’t help that sixty-eight percent of Americans fear him. Inherently, he’s the bad guy in all of their stories, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

After all, the little Reaper’s just doing his job.

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