Scythe Does Matter

“Okay,” he continued. “I couldn’t actually get preferential treatment. I know. I tried. Anyway, angels only get one chance to be mortal and live a human life so I want to make it a truly awesome one. That’s why I’m studying to be a Reaper. I need to make some decent Karma Kredit points if I’m going to live the good life.”

Dante’s role as proctor involved him swaggering up and down the aisles between desks, looking severe, right hand resting on the hip where his confiscated scythe no longer hung. Having met Sergeant Schotz, I was sure that Dante’s confiscated scythe was under lock and key somewhere and only Schotz had the key. It was no one’s vault but his own. Dante halted when he reached my little group, laying both palms flat on my desk and leaning in. Keeping his voice low, he asked, “Is there a problem here, amici?”

I blushed. “We’re just trying to figure out how to handle this so we all pass. Any advice for us?” I tilted my head and tried to look appealing—either sexually appealing or appealing for help, I wasn’t fussy.

He leaned in closer still. “Do I have any advice? Si.” He cut his eyes at the other members of the class and lowered his voice to a sexy growl. “What you three need to do is try to answer all the questions correctly.” He stood up and moved to the next group.

Well, that was helpful—not! Somebody would not be getting laid to rest anytime soon.

“So, Ira. Are you going up first? Or you, Kali?” I stared at my teammates apprehensively.

Ira looked thoughtful, while Kali picked worriedly at her cuticles—all thirty of them. A few long moments passed in silence.

I drew a deep breath and bit the bullet. “My guess is that he’ll ask the questions in the order he taught the work. He’d want us to learn from this exercise as much as from anything else we did in class. Which means he’s going to ask the easiest questions first. And that means I, as your weakest link, should go first.” I started to stand but Kali grabbed my arm—in several places.

“No. That’s what he’ll anticipate us thinking so he’ll put the hardest questions first. Ira, you go.” She certainly wasn’t sparing my feelings about being the weakest link. She looked at me with her face all screwed up, her eyebrows drawing in close. “We’re all in this together,” she said. “No offense?”

“None taken,” I assured her. “I was late joining the class.” I shrugged. “And I’m not a supernatural being or anything . . .” My stupid eyes burned a bit. I was not going to let my teammates down. Or my aunt.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll go.” Ira stood just as Amber and Crystal headed to the front of the room, cheered on by their respective teams.

While we’d been futzing around, gossiping and trying to choose our first spokes-being, Dante had returned to the front of the room and set up a tiny tableau consisting of an hourglass, a bell and a hammer. Never had three ordinary objects seemed so ominous.

The three examinees stood shoulder to shoulder at the front of the room. A drop of sweat trickled down Ira’s cherubic face. Amber and Crystal looked shaken, no doubt at the prospect of competing with each other.

Professor Schotz smoothed out his paper. “As soon as you know the answer, raise your hand. First person to raise his or her hand gets to respond. Answer to the best of your ability. I’ll decide if the answer is correct.” The professor tapped his own chest, indicating there was no higher authority than himself. “If nobody answers, everybody standing up here fails. No marks given for vagueness, stalling or faking it.”

Everybody tittered.

“Remember, I was a student once myself, lo these many, many decades ago so I know all the tricks. No telepathy, either.” He stared pointedly at Kali. “Don’t make me get the tinfoil hats!”

He held out his sheet of paper. I squinted at it but no way could I make out even word one from where I sat.

“First question.” He ran one finger down the page. “In three sentences or less, describe a Reaper’s responsibilities.”

All three hands whipped ceiling-ward but only Amber’s stayed up. The others struggled as their arms were forced back down and pinned to their sides by magic. There was no question about who was going to answer the question. And what an easy question it was, too. Oh, skeg. He was starting at the beginning. I should’ve gone first.

“As you can see, I’m using a spell to determine who raised their hand first. In this case, our Ms. Amber has the floor. Go ahead. A Reaper’s responsibilities are . . . ?”

Amber took a small step forward. She usually enjoyed attention, but today she looked like she’d rather be under a rock. She licked her lips and stared at the floor.

“A Reaper’s responsibilities are as follows . . .” Now she raised her head and looked so far upward that only the whites of her eyes showed. “One.” She held up her perfectly manicured index finger. “When on the Mortal Coil, a Reaper will apprehend any soul or shade not traveling to Hell of its own accord. Two . . .” She raced on, as if afraid she’d lose her momentum. “When in Hell during peacetime, a Reaper will answer calls of distress and maintain some semblance of peace as decreed by his or her own judgment. Three . . .” At this point she realized she’d neglected to hold up a finger on two and seemed to get confused by all the advanced math involved. Finally she sorted it out by clasping both hands behind her back. Out of sight, out of mind; she was no mathlete. “Should Hell be under attack, the Reaper Corps will rise and defend our home unto the death.”

You know, I’d studied that passage, too. But I’d been so focused on memorizing the words, it wasn’t until I listened to Amber that I actually comprehended what was being said. What did they mean, “during peacetime?” When did Hell go to war? Did we fight with the next Hell over? I knew there were other Hells and other Hell dimensions. It was in one of the handouts.

What if I got asked a question about Hell going to war? Panicking, I leaned over and whispered my question to Kali.

Keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, she grabbed a pen and paper, scrawling one word across it: apocalypse.

Ah, now I remembered. I sagged back in my chair, adrenaline draining from my body. At some point in the undefined future, Hell would go to war with Heaven. In the meantime, most disputes were solved by playing ice hockey every second Tuesday.

Professor Schotz rang the bell enthusiastically. “Very good, Amber. Please take your seat and send up another of your team members. That is indeed the correct answer, right out of the textbook, and it segues nicely into my next question.”

M’Kimbi jogged to the front, high-fiving Amber on the way.

“Can a Reaper, who is either an immortal being”—he nodded toward Kali and Ira—“or an already dead soul like most of the rest of us—except you, of course, Kirsty.” He smiled in my direction.

I squirmed in my seat, wishing he hadn’t singled me out like that. And I wished he’d finished the question. Or had he and I’d somehow managed to miss it?

Behind me Rod made a rude noise.

“Can a Reaper die?” the Professor finally finished his question. “Ira?”

The angel stared straight ahead, shoulders back. The big bulge under his hoodie twitched and I wondered if he was nervous. He claimed it was a backpack but you never saw him get books or snacks from it. And I’d never seen a wing-shaped backpack before.

“Yes, Professor. In some extreme cases, sir, an individual, whether mortal or immortal, can die a permanent death whereby they disappear and are not to be seen again on any plane: Heaven, Hell or Mortal Coil. They just sort of fade away.”

Professor Schotz nodded and rang the bell absently, as if he hadn’t really been listening. The bell hung from a little stand and now I noticed it had a string tied to its clapper. So if the bell is rung by yanking on the string, what then, was the hammer for? I swallowed hard, not looking forward to seeing a demonstration or worse yet, feeling one.

“Yes, Ira. That is also correct. Thank you.”

Ira walked back to his seat. I wanted to acknowledge his triumph but somehow the subject matter was a big ol’ buzzkill. Kali caught my gaze, nodding. She went to the front of the room.

“Question three. Where do these doubly dead souls go? Yes, Crystal.”

“They get fed back into the death cycle, sir.” She grinned hugely, obviously very proud of herself.

“I’m afraid not, Crystal.” He held out his hand like a surgeon. “Hammer!” Dante slapped the small hammer