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There was an impenetrable aura to the house, an odd hush that permeated through the entire building.
Neither of the occupants had noticed.
Gone were the days of laughing children running around frantically, all grown up and having their own adventures in far off places full of sunlight and happy memories.
Gone were the days of tourists, clicking cameras and shifting change, curiosity now sated and gone long ago as the tourist trap finally closed its doors and became a legend in itself. Moved on to another place, along with the new Mr Mystery who felt it apt to leave two old men in their old home once they stopped adventuring themselves.
Gone were the days of a grinning conman hawking his wares and dazzling eager listeners with his exaggerated tales.
The aura had always been there, a small dull thrum that sent a shiver up a tourist’s spine, the sudden intense feeling of being watched by a creature that should not be there.
It had added to the mystery, added to the insatiable appetite of the unknowing customers traipsing in and out. Never knowing that amongst all the fake oddities they were gawping over, a real supernatural being strolled leisurely through the crowds, forever keeping an eye on their human leading the pack. Blinked unseeing at the small black shape that darted through them to latch onto the owner’s leg and keep pace, a protective shadow at his side.
Now however, the thrum was a full on vibration that could be felt from even a distance. Visitors were few and far between, only those who truly knew the residents making the trek up and batting an eyelid to the enclosed atmosphere.
To the reaper, however, it felt like home.
He took a shifty glance behind him, then another back to the porch, eyes narrowed and thoughtful as he took a purposeful stride forward. When nothing happened he gave a nod of almost disappointed acceptance, a soft sigh escaping him as he looked down at the familiar marked book in his hands, the edges worn and dulled with constant flicking. An extensive scrawling list covered the page his eyes rested on, swirling calligraphy notes running a river of ink right down to the very bottom.
The longest page he had ever known.
And sitting against the crisp yellowing paper was the one name that still staring challengingly back at him, bold and bright and eager for his efforts.
And yet…
It no longer seemed like it was mocking him, that name. Not like it once had.
He slipped the book back into his cloak, gliding forward into the Shack, unseen and incorporeal. Nothing could really keep him out, nothing had that much sway. If he had fought years ago, he would have won but it would have been tedious, arduous even, and if he was honest he had been downright intrigued that a grim had turned on him and chosen that no, this human stays.
It did not take long for him to find the room he sought.
The heavy air hung around the doorway, no one corporeal knowing that it was a string of fate drawn tight that held the air that way, pulling it in with all that building pressure. A storm brewing until it would eventually break and everything would fall into a deadly hush.
And yet it was surprisingly calm and peaceful on the other side of the door.
The reaper took a moment to appreciate it. What had been achieved in a life that should not have been lived. An old man slept unperturbed by nightmares in a big warm bed that he would have once called a luxury, a soft calm smile across his face. There was nothing drab or dreary about the room, no dismal outlook allowed by those that cared as the bright sunlight flickered through the open window. Flowers and cards dotted the floor, once placed on the bedside cabinet before it overflowed and it became tiresome to put more necessary things there. Instead a photo had taken their place, a well-worn frame clean of dust and smoothed by gentle hands, a favourite that had been admired more than a few times. Other photos and books lined the shelves, adventures the man had taken with his loved ones, stories they had told and places they had explored.
Signs of a life well lived.
He took a deep breath, pausing as his eyes trained back on the man he had come to claim. A small disgruntled expression flashed across his face as he took a step forward.
This should not feel…difficult. It was the natural order of things.
One that the man had escaped for long enough.
A dark growl full of venom caught his attention, freezing him in place, the floorboard creaking under him in his surprise. He turned slowly, to find the grim sitting less than a foot away on the bed, ears down and teeth bared at him.
He winced, standing up straight. He hadn’t seen the grim sitting there. How foolish. He’d been far too optimistic that he could slip in and out without any issues. He gave a sigh, a hand going under his hood to rub at his face. This could prove more difficult than he had thought. But- He glared, his eyes boring into the grim and making her jaw widen and her eye narrows at his obvious challenge.
He would not back down this time. The man was tired, he was accepting, he could feel it. It was-
“Easy, girl, I think it’s time.”
The reaper stopped, the words still sat ready and solid on his tongue and yet they hung in the air in a very different voice to his own, the gravel of sleep not masking the unyielding tone behind them.
He turned his gaze to the old man, eyes open and staring back at him. There was no fear there or disappointment. If anything there was a twinge of relief mixed in with a scrutinising and curious regard. As if he was an oddity he and his brother had encountered on one of their trips.
This wasn’t meant to happen.
His eyes should not have opened. He had it written, word for word. The last words, that’s what he had assumed. Just for once he had hoped that the list would not grow because it really was time, far passed time.
Yet it did not seem that Stanley Filbrick Pines would be ‘passing peacefully in his sleep’.
No. He would be facing death head on.
A small smile spread across the reaper’s face at the thought.
One last defiance of the natural order before he went.
It suited him.
A small whine interrupted their appraisal of one another.
“Hey, come here, sweetie. We’ve had a good run, haven’t we?”
The reaper watched as the grim shuffled over to the outstretched hand being offered, ears still down and tail dragging as she nudged at the man’s face and let him fuss over her. He carried on the motions until she gave another softer whine and flopped down beside him, covering his side in her fur as if she could still shield him from the world.
A small spark of pity fluttered through the reaper but he refused to let it show. This moment had always been inevitable.
It’s what happened when a fragile mortal played with immortal beings and wormed its way under the skin.
But now was not the time to focus on the grim. He turned his gaze back to the man. Another wash of respect slipped into his smile as the man did the complete opposite. As he ignored death in favour of making sure his companion was reassured and comfortable beside him before he turned his eye back to him. He gave a small nod of greeting, as if he was a visitor he had been expecting for a long time.
“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
The reaper nodded back, stepping in close to the bed. “Likewise.” He didn’t know what prompted him to actually speak. Normally he let those soon to part say their piece and that was that. But something had driven him to converse with him. The man that had slipped through life like water, like a beacon that drew supernatural things in almost as much as the place he resided did. A catalyst inside a catalyst.
Maybe it was because it felt like the world still needed to be turned on its axis, just for a few minutes more.
“Guess you’ve come to collect your debt.” A wide grin had crossed the man’s tired face as the reaper spoke, his eyes half lidded and his breathing taking a turn for the worse as he shook with a few painful chuckles. He let the words fall out amidst them, giving the grim another couple comforting pats as she nuzzled worriedly into his side at the noise. “Hope you don’t mind the long con I’ve been pulling on ya.”
The reaper waited for a few moments, let the pain soothe again before he started, his own aura content as the man continued to chuckle away to himself.
You wouldn’t think he was staring the great unknown in the face.
“Well, it is quite the feat to cheat me for quite so long.” A small hidden smile twisted on his face, a piece of knowledge that none may know bar himself surfacing in his mind. The reaper paused in his musing as Omen shifted closer to him, eyes downcast and placed a hand on her head, giving her the comfort she seemed to need in that moment. “And it takes quite a person to befriend a grim.” His voice was filled with humour, a notion that had long since left him but he couldn’t say that watching Stan and the grim on their adventures had not filled him with a curious sense of intrigue and amusement. He dropped his hand, taking a step back away from the bed, making sure the eyes of the other two stayed with him.
It felt like days of old again, when he was less of a small distant possibility and a solid fact in men’s minds. When kings and queens after long reigns would step willingly to his side, when young people fought bravely for their homes and had to be coaxed to leave the land of the living. When life was simple and the world’s magic was engrained in all the hidden things and yet visible all at the same time.
He bowed, low and with a flourish, one arm touched to his chest as the other fanned out across the room.
“I applaud you.”
There was a beat of silence as the reaper stood again, the grim’s eyes grateful and understanding as she finally slumped against Stan, the fight leaving her.
He had been accepted.
“Wow, death bowed to me. I wish Sixer was here. He’d never…never believe me.” Stan’s eyes fluttered shut, a flicker of pain crossing his face that he tried to conceal behind the bright smile he still wore.
“Have you said your goodbyes?”
The man shrugged, eyes going guiltily to the door as he bit his lip. “Sixer knows, deep down. I’ve said everything I need to say to the twins. Besides they’ll all look after one another so that’s one thing less I have to worry about…I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?”
“…I don’t want Ford to see.”
The reaper nodded, drawing near again. He took one more look down, hesitating yet again. “What about…”
Stan followed his gaze. His face turned soft, the smile sad and bright as he let the grim rest her head on his shoulder, a heavy and solid weight that he curled around. “My sweet little terror knows what’s happening. Probably knows better than all of us, present company excluded.” He leant his head into her, taking in a breath. “You did good, girl. Now it’s time to rest.”
He pulled away, his eyes back on the reaper, ready and willing. He grinned, defiant as ever as he reached out a hand to him.
“Time for the next big adventure, right?”
When Ford found him he was alone. The smile still bright on his face, eyes closed and peaceful.
In hindsight, Ford had known what was coming for a long time.
And yet it still came as a shock, like a knife had been twisted into his stomach and wasn’t letting up enough for him to do anything other than sit on the front porch and stare out into the forest, eyes unblinking and tearless, a solid lump of ice forming over his very core.
He had known as soon as he’d entered the room that Stan was no longer there.
He didn’t know how he knew, not really. It was just something. Something off. The room looked just as he had left it, his brother asleep in the bed, surrounded by fond memories.
Yet when he returned, his brother was gone. The presence he always held, the bolster that said ‘I’m here!’ that had always been prevalent had slipped away unseen while he left him to rest.
A haunting wail caught him from his thoughts, his head turning a fraction at a time to stare off after the lingering melody that trickled through the trees like the tear drops he himself couldn’t shed.
He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes going skyward as he slumped further back, truly feeling his age in that moment. Knowing that they had been alive for far longer than they were ever supposed to, did nothing for his dwindling thoughts that he hadn’t been ready.
Not for that.
Even if the grim had seemed more clingy than usual the past few weeks with an ill Stan. Even when the grim had let him close, let his other loved ones near but no stranger, as if scared of who they were and what they would do whilst Stan could not defend himself.
Even if the banshee’s wails that he had heard in the last week and strived to work against had sounded wrong to his ears. Even when he had sat one night in this very spot, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman who normally made herself known if they were in danger. And yet she had never appeared, just her painful poignant keen that made his heart thump in sympathy.
It had sounded less of a warning than usual, almost just a fact of being.
He understood now why she had sounded so defeated.
The sound changed enough to bring him back to reality, his ears straining to hear the distinctive whispers that travelled through the keening. No longer was the banshee screaming out a warning, instead it seemed…melancholy. A mourning song that had been lost in time, its words and melody long forgotten. And yet she still sang, sang as if a great warrior had passed, sang to let everyone know who had left them in the world of the living.
Somehow, it broke a fragment off the shell Ford had been hiding behind. A grateful rush that he wasn’t alone creeping through his chest in a warm flush to melt the ice, a trickle of its grief running down his cheek.
“Thank you.”
The words left him as mere air, a hint of a whisper that he hoped would make it to its mark.
It was movement next that stopped his thoughts from swallowing him whole again.
A small black shape slunk over to him, crept up the porch steps without a noise, eyes downcast and ears drooping.
“Omen?”
One of the grim’s ears perked up at the voice but she kept her head lowered, slipping over to him slowly with an air of hesitance, as if expecting Ford’s rage, expected him to shout and fight and push her away.
Ford found he didn’t have the strength, nor did he want to push away the creature who looked about as devastated as he felt.
He stayed still, a peace offering to her as she made it within reaching distance. A small head landed in his lap a few seconds later, demanding attention that he duly gave without thought, eyes drawn away as he pondered.
“Did you take him?”
He hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t meant to broach the subject. He knew it had been time, that it had been time long ago for his brother so he shouldn’t need to ask, shouldn’t need the knowledge. But he did. He just needed to know, like he needed to know everything else.
A soft whine gave him his answer as he looked down at her, her eyes as despondent as his own. She nudged forward further, as if she wanted to hide herself in her grief, a small howl rumbling through her rib cage.
Ford was almost envious that she could let it all out like that.
He knew how she felt.
“No, of course not.” Ford carried on talking, feeling the grim relax against him again slightly, as if glad she was not receiving the blame. “You always were a good girl, keeping him safe, weren’t you?” A tiny tail wag was all he got in response so he kept going, a sigh whispering out of him. “I guess we can’t cheat death forever, can we?”
He paused in his musings, glancing back again at the grim who seemed to be eyeing him almost suspiciously now, obviously noting the change in him. He toyed with the idea in his head, the old crippling aches to his joints, the unending burn to just rest making itself known as he thought.
“It was him, wasn’t it?”
The grim yipped quietly, a lilt of confusion to the noise.
Ford nodded, pulling away slightly. “Can you get him for me?”
The grim froze for a second, the thought obviously an oddity and then it all seemed to click in the small creatures mind. She snuggled back into his lap again, let arms encircle her as a small gesture of thanks and took all the comfort that they both could gain from the action.
She gave him one last yap before she vanished.
He felt like he waited an eternity for her to come back when really it could only have been minutes.
There was a sudden solid silence, a dark looming cloud that seemed to emerge above the Shack as the air fizzled and crackled with the sudden pressure.
Ford closed his eyes, taking a steady breath as the atmosphere was pierced. A cloak fluttering in the breeze kept him grounded, unfurling and unseen wings a steady pressure before him, an almost reassuring weight around his shoulders. A protective gesture.
Ford opened his eyes as normality returned, a soft sad smile on his face.
“Hello, old friend.”
The reaper took one last look at the house, one that he had frequented more times than he was sure he was meant to in a mortal’s lifetime.
A small bark brought him back to the present, a small dog wrapping round his legs, face suspicious and questioning.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got them here safe and sound.” He patted his pocket with a small smile, checking himself that they were safe from harm there.
He wouldn’t admit it, not even to the grim who would probably not understand his words, nor could ever repeat them.
But they had become his favourites too.
His anomalies.
The conman whose kindness had stolen the heart of a grim.
And the scientist whose camaraderie had somehow stolen a reapers.