The Next Death; Chapter 3

After school, I wander towards the football field as normal. I usually sit in the stadium and do work or chill until after Dan's practice. So, if I just didn't show, Dan would get freaked out. Can't have that.

I'm in luck. I see Dan walking towards the entrance of the locker room. "Dan!" I call, jogging towards him.

Dan stops when he hears his name, turning towards me. He stops and waits for me to reach him. "Hey. What's up?"

"I'm going to go for a walk. I'll be back before practice is over," I promise him.

Dan considers for a second. "Fine. Just keep your phone on and stay out of trouble."

"What are you? My mom?"

"Ha ha ha ha. Hilarious," Dan responds, rolling his eyes. "Have fun. If you get food-"

"Bring you something. I know the drill."

"Alright, see ya," Dan waves before walking to the locker room.

I turn towards the gate that leads off-campus, pulling the card out of my pocket. Mr. Mors. I remember him from my comma dream, and a deal, but I can't remember anything else. It was time to get answers.

- - - - -

As normal, Old Merchants Lane isn't bustling, only a couple of odd souls wander down the street, mostly window shopping.

Father Time's Antique Shoppe doesn't stand out from the rest, if anything, it seems to be trying to avoid being seen. Its front is old, like all the other shops on Old Merchants Lane, but it hasn't been painted over recently. It seems to be owning the antique, even in looks. Looking in the windows, all I can see are shelves and tables full of odds and ends, all antiques, and glimpses of a counter. No one appears to be inside.

I take one last glance at the card before shoving it back into my pocket. I take a deep breath and open the door. A bell chimes as I push the door open, and again when the door swings shut behind me.

"Hello," I call, walking down the center aisle, glancing around for someone. "Is anyone here? Hello?"

I reach the counter, but no one has come out. I notice a bell on the counter and go to ring it.

"Ring that bell, and I end you," a cold voice calmly says from behind me.

I spin to face the speaker. The girl I now face is the living embodiment of the term goth. She has black hair, wears black jeans, a black shirt, and black boots. Her nails are painted black and her hands are covered by mesh gloves, and black leather studded bracelets. She doesn't look like her words were an empty threat.

"What do you want?" she says, in a condescending manner.

I pull the card out of my pocket and hold it up. "I found this. I'm looking for-"

"Mr. Mors," a new voice calls from behind me. "Chill, Agatha. This is the one we've been waiting for."

I spin back around. A boy leans on his crossed arms resting on the counter. His smile is easy, and he appears to be the exact opposite of Agatha. He has shaggy red hair, and he wears a white shirt.

"Nice to meet you Elizabeth, I'm Neal," he introduces himself. "You've already met Agatha. You'll have to forgive her bedside manners, but I promise she grows on you."

"How do you know my name?" I ask, slightly freaked out. I'd consider running to the door, but with the look Agatha is giving me, I don't think she'd let me pass.

"Mr. Mors told us that you'd be coming. He had to step out for a bit, but he'll be back soon," Neal says.

"Right," I nod. "So, while we're waiting, I've got a few blanks in my memory," I say, waving the card in the air, "Can you fill them?"

Agatha makes a disgusted noise. "He should have just let you die."

"Agatha," Neal snaps.

"What?" She snaps back. "Death is a natural part of life. Not to mention it would make more logical sense for her to be dead before beginning training." Agatha walks past me, not even glancing at me. Reaching the counter, she spins towards me and falls back against the counter. "Here's the short version. Neal and I- we're reapers. Mr. Mors, as he insists on calling himself when playing human, is Death, or the Grim Reaper, whichever term you prefer, I don't care. You- you're now his apprentice. You're going to be the next Death."

The memory of what happened in the comma comes flooding back in.

"Look at that, now she remembers," Agatha sounds highly annoyed.

"She's going through a lot, give her a break," Neal replies.

"Ah, Miss Kissinger, how kind of you to finally join us," Mr. Mors' voice is dripping in false joy.

I look towards him as his office door swings shut behind him. I cross my arms defensively. "I can't just ditch school."

"You could drop a few classes though," Neal muses.

I look at him, surprised. "How do you even know that?"

He shrugs and looks at Agatha, who is picking at her nails. "All you did was work. Literally, my only entertainment was listening to your problems." She looks at Mr. Mors. "Remind me why Neal couldn't babysit her?"

"What?" I intercede.

"You weren't ready to begin training, but an eye had to be kept on you to be sure your powers didn't start manifesting prematurely before you had the chance to learn how to control them," Mr. Mors explains.

"Powers?"

"Reaper abilities," Neal clarifies.

"Right," I reply.

"Anyways," Mr. Mors says, taking control of the conversation again, "This store is our base of operations, a front for your training. Neal and Agatha will assist in your training. However, to keep the front running, the three of you will also pose as the employees here."

"Joy," Agatha states, deadpan.

"And you should probably drop some of your classes."

"What? Are you crazy? I need those classes to keep my GPA up and so I can stay in the top twenty-five of my class," I tell him.

"Which would be relevant if you had to go to college, or get a job, neither of which you have to do. They would just be extra busywork. Anyways, you'll need as much training as possible, and, as you are still human and have a family, there are certain expectations that you have to fulfill. If you're in school all day, then come here and train until you leave, someone will notice and then questions will be asked. It's better to avoid that," Mr. Mors states.

I grind my teeth in frustration, shutting my eyes. "I suppose that isn't up to debate?" I ask looking at him.

"Not a chance," he states.

I growl silently to myself. "Fine. I can drop three of them."

"Good. This is how this will work. When you've finished with school for the day, you'll come here. You will spend your time here training or learning, depending on which is more important at the moment."

"Learning? I thought I would only need training."

Mr. Mors sighs. "I wish it were that simple."

"You should have just let her die," Agatha puts in.

I turn to give her a look, but she's still picking at her nails and doesn't even bother to look up at me.

"Thank you, Agatha, for your input," Mr. Mors states, "Your opinion has been noted and dismissed."

Agatha rolls her eyes. "If you didn't want it, you shouldn't have picked me for this." Suddenly, she looks up, but it's not at any of us. She's looking towards the front door.

Neal responds to this by reaching for something and freezing. Confused, I look towards Mr. Mors, but he's also watching the front door. His eyes have gone from their typical uninterested look to serious and calculating.

I want to demand to know what's going on, but the tension was so high, I felt that my very breath could trigger something. I look towards the front, but outside the windows, I see nothing out of the ordinary.

As suddenly as Agatha looked up, she looks back to her nails, and just like that, Neal and Mr. Mors return to normal.

"What just happened?" I demand.

"A shift in the flow," Agatha states.

"Agatha's senses are highly tuned to the flow," Neal explains. "She can pick up on even the faintest changes. That's why she's here," he says, giving her a pointed look, which she ignores.

"The flow is one of the many things you've yet to learn about," Mr. Mors says. "Anyways," he redirects the conversation, "That is all for today. Tomorrow, I trust you will take care of your classes. Then enjoy the rest of the day. Your training will begin tomorrow."

"What about setting up the story of my getting a job here? Won't that take another day?" I ask.

"Not at all. You've already been hired. That should give you something to work with as to why you're suddenly dropping classes."

"Right."

"Until then, Miss Kissinger," Mr. Mors nods a farewell, then walks back into his office.

Agatha snickers. "Enjoy the rest of your freedom."