Reaping Me Softly

basement.”

After a second’s hesitation, Arianne moved. Niko felt the tremors running over her body, and her touch turned clammy. His angel persevered, and if he could only gain clarity of mind again for a minute, he’d spend those sixty seconds admiring her beauty. Instead, he wanted to puke his soul out. No one had informed him that the Fade wasn’t as painless as it sounded.

“The basement?” Arianne adjusted her hold on him. “Shouldn’t we be bringing him to a doctor?”

“Trust me, child,” Sickleton said over his shoulder. “He needs to be in the basement.”

Arianne frowned, saying nothing else. She followed the apparition before her with quiet intent. Niko groaned and attempted to lift his head, failing like a miserable drunk. They passed a long hallway with portraits of men in varying styles of clothing. Between each portrait were glowing sconces that cast watchful shadows along the floor and opposite wall.

“This way.” Sickleton veered left. “Hurry.”

“I don’t see you trying to help,” Arianne grumbled.

“I would if I could. But I cannot come near or he will suck me dry. The most I can do is get him to the basement.”

“Remind me to ask you to explain what the freak is going on here!” The fear in Arianne’s voice steered Niko.

“Don’t panic,” he said in a small voice.

“Too late for that. You know how the words ‘don’t panic’ never work? Well, this is more than what my weird quotient can handle.”

Sickleton opened a door and moved aside. “Down there.” He pointed at a set of steps that led into blind darkness.

Arianne stood by the door, knees shaking. “You want me to bring him down there?”

“Hurry, if you please.” Sickleton gestured at the stairs.

“But I won’t be able to see after five steps down.”

“I will provide illumination.”

Niko moaned.

“We are losing him. Please, child.”

The abject worry on the floating apparition’s austere face had Arianne steeling herself as best she could with a solemn swallow. She proceeded to climb down the steps. And like a switch being flipped, a ball of white light bobbed over her shoulder.

At the landing, she eased toward the last set of steps to the basement floor and paled. A crowd of the souls from the recently deceased swayed like dead trees in a roaring wind. They all stared into space, oblivious to anyone or anything around them. All naked. All dead.

The scream Arianne had been holding in finally found a hole in her courage to climb out. She dropped Niko on the landing with a sickening thud.

Sickleton appeared beside her and said, “Your help is very much appreciated.” He flicked his hand and unseen guards lifted Arianne up the stairs, down the hall, through the foyer, and out the door.

Chapter 7 CRIME SCENE

THE DOOR SLAMMED IN ARIANNE’S FACE, nearly clipping the tip of her nose. The invisible bouncers that rushed her out of Niko’s house plopped her onto the porch without ceremony or comfort. She moaned in a fetal position from the pain brought on by her posterior making out with the wood planking.

The fear of seeing all those souls had her shaking like she’d stepped out into the middle of winter and she’d forgotten to wear a jacket. She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. Breathing hard, she gathered herself up into a seated position, grimacing at the continued ache. Panic elbowed her fear, lobbying for a space in her already crowded chest. She pushed herself off the floor and proceeded to pound on Niko’s front door with an open palm. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

“Niko!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. She didn’t care if the neighbors heard. “Niko! Please, someone open up! Niko!”

She kept slapping the wood until her hand ached. Worry spilled over her panic. Even if she didn’t understand what went on in Niko’s house, she still needed to know if he was all right. She moved away from the door, down the porch steps, and around the house, peeking into every window and checking if she could shimmy them open. All locked. All securely refusing her access.

By the time she’d reached the front porch again, the ache on Arianne’s palm dimmed. She stared up at the house, hands on her hips; the inside didn’t match the outside. A typical American Foursquare shouldn’t have a foyer bigger than the actual floor plan. The long hallway they passed to get to the basement belied the fact that there were more rooms than just four on each floor. And that basement. Arianne shivered at the memory. She couldn’t get herself to forget about all those dead people swaying like there was trance music playing in the background.

“Niko,” she whispered, then frowned.

Seeing no other recourse, and as darkness laid claim over the rest of the daylight, Arianne picked up the school bag she’d dropped when she and Niko had arrived, turned around, and trudged home. And you thought you were the weird one for being obsessed with His Delicious Highness.

She wasn’t sure when she’d started running, but the second her feet picked up their pace, she didn’t stop until she’d reached the front door of her house. She dropped her pack and fished out her keys from her pocket with uncooperative fingers. After three frustrated tries without any success of meeting key with hole, Arianne did a one-eighty and slid down to the floor with her back against the door. She thumped her head a couple of times on the wood and closed her eyes. The door opened, sending her sprawling with a squeak.

“Ari?” her father said. His face hovered a few feet above hers.

“Hey, Dad.” Arianne gave him the tiniest wave.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look okay. And why are you lying there?”

“Leaning, actually.”

He reached out a hand and hauled her up. “How about some lasagna? I have it in the oven already.”

“There’s a load in the wash, too.” She dusted off her jeans to keep from looking at her father for too long, afraid to betray the emotions that continued to whirl inside her. Niko. Niko. Niko. Every beat of her heart said his name. Should she have left? Could she have stayed? What would have happened if she did?

“Already in the drier,” her father said. He grabbed her pack and walked deeper into the house.

Arianne stared at his shoulders, still standing just outside the door. The ding of the oven pulled her inside.

Gasping awake, Arianne searched the gloom for the specters which had danced like kelp in her dreams a moment ago. A cold sweat rose from her skin as she lay in bed, gripping her sheets like a lifeline. Reality tiptoed into her room. What she’d seen defied anything she’d known to be true. Niko had been hoarding souls in his basement. His ghost butler told her to bring him there, but for what reason? And why did the butler not want to touch him? He said something strange like being drained. What could be drained out of a ghost?

She sat up, drinking air in gulps. Too fast. Too hard. All at once. She’d arrived at Hyperventilation City, population: one. Her lungs burned. Her heart attempted to punch a hole through her heaving chest. She snaked her fingers into the tangle of her hair.

She continued to worry, no matter what she’d witnessed. He’d literally faded before her eyes, limb by limb. When she exited St. Joseph’s, the last thing she’d expected was Niko sitting on a bench across the street in an