Elsewhere
Noah had been doing this job long enough to know when to stay out of something.
This was one of those times.
He sat invisible in the corner of a coffee shop in Idaho, watching a reaper try to talk to a human with sun-bleached hair, scraped knuckles and the kind of smile that suggested he’d never met a bad idea he could resist.
The reaper—Greg, according to his vest—was hovering near the counter where the mortal was ordering a latte. He was clutching a clipboard and he kept clearing his throat. The human kept ignoring him.
"Excuse me," Greg tried again. "Sir?"
The human—Dustin, per Noah's file—finally glanced over at him. "You know, most people buy me dinner before they start stalking me."
"Um," Greg said. "I'm not stalking you. If you would just listen to me for five minutes I could explain."
"Explain why you've been following me around for three days?" Dustin accepted his latte from the barista and took a slow sip, eyes still on Greg. "Shoot."
"I'm trying to do my job!"
"Which is?"
"Reaping souls," Greg said like the mortal was supposed to understand.
Dustin's grin widened. "So you're Death, huh? I was wondering when you’d come for me."
"Three days ago! You were supposed to die three days ago. And you didn't. And I need you to—"
"To die for you?"
"Could you please?"
Dustin's gaze was fixed on Greg. "Wow." He laughed. "That's the most direct anyone's ever been with me."
"That's not—I don't mean—" Greg was clearly struggling to maintain professionalism. Noah had seen a lot of reapers in his time, but he'd never seen one deal with a target who laughed at them.
"Look," Dustin said. "You're cute and all, but you really need to rethink how you approach people."
Greg made a strangled sound. "You don't understand!" he burst out. "You're my first solo assignment and you're three days overdue!"
"That sounds like a you problem."
"It's a cosmic problem. It's a problem with the natural order!" Greg's voice cracked. "People don't just survive their scheduled deaths! You can't do that!“
"Can't do what? Keep living?" Dustin pushed off the counter, heading for the door. "Tough luck. I don't mean to check out any time soon."
"Wait!" Greg hurried after him, waving his clipboard. "You can't just walk away from this!"
Dustin paused at the threshold, glancing back with that insufferable smile. "Tell you what, Reaper Greg. You lose the clipboard, and maybe I'll let you take me to dinner."
Greg stood frozen while Dustin chuckled and walked away.
After a long moment, Greg collapsed into a chair, put his face in his hands, and made a sound that might have been a sob or a scream or both.
Noah sighed and vanished.
Some disasters you just had to let run their course.
Coming Soon: The Afterlife’s Most Anxious Reaper
One rookie reaper. One reckless daredevil. Zero chance of this going by the book.
Fresh out of training, Greg has high hopes for his very first solo job as a reaper. That is, until his target—a BASE-jumping adrenaline junkie named Dustin—survives a fatal accident, dusts himself off, and walks away with an infuriating smile.
Convinced it's a cosmic clerical error, Greg takes matters into his own hands. Soon he's tampering with gear, cutting parachute cords, and maybe (but not technically) trying to murder a man who treats Greg's polite requests to “please die already” as some kind of joke.
At first, Dustin figures the anxious guy with the clipboard is just an overeager fan with dark humor. Odd, but cute.
Then he realizes no one else can see him.
Then he catches him walking through a wall—right after sabotaging his parachute.
Unhinged cosplayer or Death himself, Dustin doesn't care.
No one touches his parachute.
If Greg wants to interfere with his life, Dustin's more than happy to return the favor. Not only is he going to survive, he’s going to save everyone else on Greg’s list.
After all, if Greg wanted an easy target, he shouldn't have picked someone who flirts with death for a living.