2.1 The Reaper

LEO

When my daughter looked out the window one Saturday morning, there were two men at the door. She told me so, tugging on my sleeve, before joining her mother at the breakfast table.

I waited for a knock, but none came. Frowning, I opened the door.

And froze.

There was an old man collapsed on my doorstep. And behind him-

The Grim Reaper, in a long black robe, with his hood drawn up over dirty blonde hair.

The Reaper looked at me, and his eyes met mine- they were black and flat; an endless void. It was too late to look away. He smirked as if to say, oh look, he can see me, then said lazily, “Odin D’Lancey. Born 16^th July, 1712. Died 10^th October, 1761. Cause of death: myocardial infarction, brought on from overexertion when subject walked across town from the nursing home to the house he believed to be his own.”

I flinched as the Reaper raised a gigantic scythe that materialized in his hand and brought it down upon the man. Nothing happened- his body was still intact. It was his soul that was leaving.

The Reaper turned back to look at me. I stood rigid, like prey caught in a bright light. I remembered the Reaper that had sat with my mother. I remembered his auburn hair. This was not the same Reaper. He pulled something from his robes- a list- and his eyes flicked to it, then back to me. “Well, well, well. An alchemist. Leo Winter. Is that what you go by these days? No wonder I didn’t recognize you. Heard you moved away.”

“You’re not the same Reaper,” I said.

“The one before has moved on to… other places,” said the Reaper. “Now I’m the one that has to deal with a greater alchemist.”

Despite everything, my mouth twisted into a lopsided smile. “I’m a greater alchemist?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” snapped the Reaper. “You, by nothing but pure chance, happen to be the last of the Oaksley alchemists. Well.” He paused. “Not the last anymore.”

My hands had gone cold with sweat.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” the Reaper continued. “I suppose it’s not Oakenstead anymore, now that the Oaksleys died out. I should call it Winterstead now.” The way he said it made it sound like ‘Winter’s dead’. “Now that you’re back in my jurisdiction, I’ll be watching you, alchemist.” Without so much as a dip of the head, the Reaper disappeared in front of my eyes, as if he melted in the sunlight, leaving me alone to regard the space he had occupied a moment ago.