Chapter 9 Faye #2
Huh. She’d never thought the dead would receive hate mail.
“How long were you in the mail room?” Faye wondered if it was like an email or letter service, but she wanted to know more about him and his journey.
“I’m not sure how long each assignment lasted, because Purgatory has no time. Once the worst of my grief was over, Gregory signed me out of the mail room, and I moved on to soul sorting.”
“How is soul sorting different from collecting?” Faye hadn’t considered the grief Peter must have suffered, being so young and away from his family and everything he had known. She was relieved he’d had a mentor to help and connect him to Foxford.
“For the most part, it’s tedious. Like an airport check-in line, you ensure souls are in the right place. You need a lot of mental resilience to deal with various souls.”
Faye could tell from his sad eyes that the job had worn on him.
“The kids were the worst, but many young souls reincarnate. Some even get to return to the same family.”
“That can’t have been easy. You were so young when you had to take on such responsibility,” Faye said, resting her hand on his lap.
Peter stared at her hand, and she saw the pain in his eyes. Not wanting to depress him further, she decided to change tack. “What about pets?”
He chuckled. “Pets?”
“When I was little, I had a dog – a beagle to be precise – called Bambi. I was only seven when she died, but apparently, we were inseparable. I always wondered if she was lonely waiting for me, or what might’ve happened to her,” Faye said.
She hadn’t thought about Bambi for years.
She loved dogs, but would never have trusted Ian to have one in the house.
“Pets are a different department, but they’re well taken care of. I’ve a friend who works with pets, and she said they get the same choice – they can wait for their family to pass and be reunited, or return as another animal,” he explained.
“I wonder if she’s waiting,” Faye said, realising this topic wasn’t much lighter.
“Don’t worry. Bambi will be with other waiting pets, so she won’t be lonely,” he reassured her, placing his hand over hers. With Ian, she would have flinched, but she didn’t want Peter to let go.
“Did you pick Gregory as a mentor because he was from Foxford? Did he help you become a Reaper?” Faye asked, brushing her thumb lightly over the Matherson signet ring on his. It matched his brother’s.
“When I finished my training, Gregory stepped up and helped persuade the higher-ups to allow me to start collecting. I shadowed Gregory on collections around the world. Normally, when Reapers start collecting, their family and friends have passed away to prevent interference. Because of my age and connection to Foxford, they allowed me to start collecting once I promised not to let my personal relationships interfere with my sentence.”
“What’s collecting a soul like?” Faye dared to ask, and she felt him hold her hand tighter.
“Some souls are ready to go, and we bring them relief. We console other souls who aren’t ready and assure them that coming with us is what’s best for them and their loved ones,” Peter told her.
“We’re trained to handle all situations, but it doesn’t get easier.
The Reapers who find it easy have been collecting for centuries, and they barely remember what it was like to be human. ”
“What happens if they don’t come with you?” Faye asked, thinking some wouldn’t want to leave.
“Lost souls who aren’t ready to leave their loved ones often stay too long and lose their sense of self, their memories.
A soul isn’t meant to stay with the living.
It’s torture. Other souls are afraid to face judgment or want to stay to cause trouble.
A different branch of Reapers deals with them, those who want to harm or plague the living. ”
“Seems like that would have been a department you would’ve liked,” Faye said. “You always had a great sense of justice.”
“I thought about it, but they’re sent worldwide, and I wanted to return to Foxford.
Those who deal with the toughest cases have been Reapers for decades, and the training is intense.
The souls they collect are so corrupted that they can harm us and humans.
I’m not ready to risk destroying my soul.
” Peter shook his head. “Maybe one day, when there’s no one left I care about to watch over.
” His sad smile nearly killed her. She’d never thought about how he would have to watch all those he loved and cared about not only live their lives but pass over.
“Can anyone decide to be a Reaper?” she asked. “Helping souls wouldn’t be a bad way to spend eternity. I know how it feels to be scared and alone, and bringing those who’ve lost everything some peace sounds better than having to return and suffer through another life of challenges.”
“Thinking of a career change?”
She wished she hadn’t been so honest. He had a way of making her confess her true feelings without even trying.
“Maybe,” she joked. “The chic black robes and scythe are tempting.”
“That’s only for formal occasions,” he teased.
Faye reached for her beer to ease the tension but knocked it over. They both leaned in to catch it before it fell. She stopped an inch away from him, noticing the flecks of brown in his blue eyes.
His gaze shifted to her lips as time froze.
She knew she should pull away, but instead, she leaned closer until their noses touched. Faye closed her eyes as his hand slipped into her hair; she held her breath as his forehead rested against hers. Her mind begged him to kiss her.
Then Peter jumped up so quickly that it startled her. She couldn’t believe they had almost kissed. It had to be due to the beer and her low tolerance, since she hadn’t drunk in years. Ian didn’t like how it made her blood taste.
She hated how the memory of Ian lecturing her about keeping her blood clean ruined the moment. For the first time in years, she’d actually wanted to be kissed, to be desired.
“What’s left to do?” Peter asked, putting as much distance between them as possible.
Faye decided to play along as though nothing had almost happened. Instead of feeling gutted by his rejection, she should’ve felt relieved. Now wasn’t the time to be kissing anyone.
“I still have to put my bed together, but I don’t think I’ve got the brain power to go through the instructions and put together the base without screwing myself to the frame.”
“Where are you going to sleep? I can get you a room at the Manor,” Peter offered kindly, but she couldn’t put him out. The Manor was always fully booked in advance.
“The couch is fine; it’s only for one night. I’ll be asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.”
“Okay,” Peter conceded. “But I can at least take down the boxes to give you more room.” He collected the torn-up cardboard boxes to take to the recycling bin in the back alley behind the café.
“Are you sure? I can take them down in the morning before I start prepping—”
Peter was already heading towards the door.
Settling on the vintage tweed couch with her pink cushions, the weight of her situation overwhelmed her.
When Ian discovered her departure, she feared for her friends and how he might retaliate against them, but gratitude warmed her for their support.
She planned to treat them to a box of their favourite desserts as a small gesture of appreciation.
She hadn’t expected to have so much stuff to move, but she was trying to fit ten years into a one-bedroom, one-bathroom flat with a kitchen/living room.
The mess was inevitable, perfect, cosy, and entirely hers.
She wanted Ian to know he had failed to consume her life.
Despite his actions, her friends were still there for her, while he had no one to love or trust. The only part of her heart that grieved was for the boy who had once loved her.
Growing up in Foxford, Faye had always felt like the odd one out in her group of magically gifted friends.
She was just Faye, and Ian had made her feel like that was enough.
That boy had long since vanished, leaving her uncertain if he was ever real or just a dream.
Grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch, Faye accepted that she’d never get the answer to that question and drifted off to sleep, safe and happy.