Heaven in Hiding

I looked down at my phone and cursed under my breath. It was almost midnight. For two hours I had been sitting at a hightop table at the back of the club while the bass heavy music drummed through my ears and the lights flickered between white, yellow, orange, and lime green. Bodies crowded the dance floor to my right. Women danced and jumped around wildly, spilling their drinks all over the floor, themselves, and anyone else caught in the crossfire. Men slinked their way through the horde of skin-tight dresses and too high for comfort heels, wrapping their arms around the nearest waist and swaying with them to the beat.

Singles of the City was just that, a nightclub for singles. It wasn’t known for matchmaking or cultivating long, happy, or successful relationships. It was a hook up spot. Somewhere everyone who entered could get laid and ease that burning desire inside them. The compact club was nestled between another, more successful, nightclub called The Red Raven and an abandoned laundromat that had gone out of business about three years ago. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see people from the club sneaking into the building through a broken door in the alley to have sex. Over the years, a few potential buyers had expressed interest in buying the property, but after taking one look inside, they decided against it. No respectable business person would buy a space next to the filthiest nightclub on the west side of the city. It would be reputation suicide.

I hated it here. The drinks were overpriced for how little alcohol they contained and the music was too loud making it impossible to have a conversation with anyone. Not that it mattered to me. Unlike the fifty or so other women here, I wasn’t interested in getting drunk and having sex with the first man to shove his dick into my back. I was here for business only.

It didn’t take long for me to locate him. Frederick Platts. A handsome enough man, though his job as a cooperate accountant didn’t leave much up to the imagination beneath his expensive suite and silk tie. He was slender and tall with dark hair and fair skin. Tonight he wore a navy blue suite, white button down shirt and gold necktie. He leaned casually on the bar top, a drink in one hand while the other was rubbing the thigh of the woman sitting beside him. She was his type; big chested, blonde, and foolish.

Over the past two weeks, Frederick had come to Singles of the City a dozen times and every night he did the same thing. He called his wife right before leaving the office and told her it was "going to be another late one." Then he would come straight here, park his ass at the bar and wait until a woman that sparked his interest came up to order a drink. He would offer to buy it for her and sway her into taking a seat beside him. They would talk for an hour or so, in which time he would pretend to be fascinated by her job or whatever nonsense drama between her friends brought her to the club that night, all the while making subtle moves on her and flashing that charming, perfectly white, smile at her. Eventually, they would kiss and make their way to the back of the club to the bathrooms only to emerge fifteen minutes later, smoothing out his hair and straightening his jacket before taking his leave.

This one was about to become number twelve. From the moment she entered the club in her open-backed, short crimson dress, I knew Frederick would have eyes only for her. Sure enough, I was right, though she hadn't been as quick as the others to give into his advances. I figured he would have given up by now, but he stayed persistent and it was about to pay off.

I watched with distaste and fury as Frederick leaned in and whispered into her ear. The woman nodded enthusiastically and tossed back the rest of her fruity drink. A satisfied grin spread across his face and he took her hand in his. They stood and the woman pulled him along as she led the way to the back of the club and down the narrow hallway.

I pushed my glass aside in annoyance. The worst part about my job was all the research. The execution of it was much more satisfying, although bittersweet. It was always my decision how long to wait, though I had established a strict two week policy. Others weren't as generous. Tonight marked the end of those fourteen days and I had seen enough.

As I waited for the piece of scum to emerge, I glanced over the dance floor. A man wearing a Hawaiian patterned shirt and cargo shorts, who I had seen chasing after a short redhead earlier in the night, was now locking eyes with me. He grinned and curled his pointer finger toward him, motioning for me to join him. I flipped him off. Not deterred in the slightest, he snaked his way through the crowd, drunkenly bumping into people along the way.

“A pretty thing like you shouldn't be over here all by her lonesome," he said approaching my table. "Let me buy you a drink."

“I'm good, thanks."

"C'mon." The man grabbed ahold of the back of the chair opposite me to steady himself. "You'll have a good time with me, I promise."

“I'm not interested,” I responded curtly.

He reached over and put his hand on my knee. Not a second later, I was on my feet twisting his arm behind his back and pinning his wrist at an uncomfortable angle.

"Touch me again and your hand will be gone," I sneered.

I loosened my grip and he squirmed out, jumping and stumbling backward as he rushed out onto the dance floor again. I waited until he was lost amongst the crowd before sitting back down.

"Damn," a familiar voice sighed. "I was so hoping to get a show tonight."

Standing about six foot-two inches tall with the muscular arms and toned stomach of Vin Diesel, Darrin stepped out from the shadows to my left and closed the gap between us in three giant steps.

"Sorry to disappoint," I half-laughed.

He took hold of the other chair, pulled it around the table to position it next to me and took a seat. "This place is disgusting."

I snorted. "You don't have to tell me twice."

A waitress carrying a tray full of drinks walked by and Darrin quickly plucked two glasses from it. He handed one to me and took a swig of the other, his nose crinkling as he gagged and spat on the floor.

"That is fowl!"

Chuckling, I took the drink from his hand and pushed it, along with the one he gave me, to the edge of the table. The waitress circled back and I flagged her down. She cleared the two drinks and my near empty glass from before and scampered off only to return moments later with two shots. I thanked and slipped her a ten dollar bill and she moved along.

"Here," I handed him one.

Darrin snatched it from me and tossed it back. I did the same, letting the cool burn coat my throat. It wasn't the best tequila I had ever had, but it would be enough to wash away the lingering taste of whatever nasty concoction he had consumed. Darrin slammed the tiny glass down on the tabletop and smiled appreciatively at me.

"So," he began, "the drinks are gross, the company is trash, and the atmosphere is rancid. Why are you here?"

"Business," I answered simply and tilted my chin in the direction of the bathroom hallway.

Darrin turned his head just in time to see Frederick fastening his belt and the woman yanking the hem of her dress down before they both took a seat at the bar once again.

“Ah, seems like your type,” he teased looking back to me, a wide grin across his face.

I rolled my eyes. Slowly, though, they came to rest on Frederick and I watched as he rubbed his hand up and down the woman's thigh, sometimes creeping under her skirt. She'd giggle and lean in to kiss his neck. Frederick's loafers tapped on the floor impatiently. Hardly two minutes after they had emerged, they were making their way back down the corridor.

Anger burned through me. Knowing all that I did only made the situation worse and it was growing harder to contain the overwhelming disdain I felt for him. The identical tattoos that covered the tops of my hands ached and, without triggering it, I felt the shift in my eyes.

“Oh, I’ve seen that look before,” Darrin’s comment snapped me out of my trance. His brown eyes were alive with intrigue. “Maybe I should stick around. I just might get a show after all.”

“You know how I feel about an audience.”

“Come on, Kiera," he begged. "It’s been so long since I've seen you in action.”

I shot him a fierce glance. Darrin and I had been friends for years and he knew in an instant I wasn't fooling around. Not this time.

"Alright." He threw his hands up in surrender. "But, you owe me one."

Before I had the chance to argue against it, Frederick rushed out and took off in a brisk walk through the crowd. Without saying goodbye to Darrin, I slipped out of my chair and followed him. Zigzagging across the club, it was a welcomed relief when I burst through the doors out into the warm summer night and fresh air.

Frederick had walked the six blocks from his office building to the club nearly seven hours ago and I knew he'd be making the trek back there now. From there he would sleep in his car in the parking garage until about four o'clock in the morning, when he was sober enough to drive home and get right in the shower, change into a new suit, and leave for the office again. His wife would call at about nine to make sure he was alright because she never heard him come home the night before and he would feed her lies about how he didn't want to wake her so he slept on the couch or how she must have been knocked out cold because he got into bed around eleven. But no more. After tonight, there would be no more lies.

I took off in the opposite direction I knew he was travelling and cut down alleyway after alleyway until I was concealed in darkness between a café and vet clinic, both of which were closed at this hour. I pressed my back against the cool brick of one of the buildings and waited. All was quiet except for the occasional car that drove past.

It wasn't long before I heard footsteps and the tune of a familiar whistling. I waited, like a cat stalking a mouse, and, as Frederick strode by, I grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him into the alley with enough force that he stumbled and fell to the ground.

With a wave of my hand, I threw up a glamour field so that anyone who happened to drive or walk by would only see a typical empty alley. It also acted as a means of containment, for as long as I kept it there, Frederick could not leave.

Surprised, and slightly disorientated, he climbed to his feet and raised his fists, as though prepared to fight his assailant. However, when I stepped forward out from the shadow and he saw that I was a woman, his defenses lowered and an amused smile pulled at his thin lips.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?"

"You can go to Hell," I replied.

He pouted. "What's the matter? Did one of your pathetic girlfriends complain about me? Say I made her feel special and then got pissed when she saw me with another woman?" He chuckled heartlessly. "Well, wake up. That's what hooking up is all about!"

Oh, I was going to enjoy this far too much.

"Frederick Platts," I addressed him by name and his shitty grin vanished. "The crimes you have committed in this life are beyond forgivable."

"Crimes?" He shouted the question. "What crimes?"

"Infidelity."

Nervously, he slicked a hand through his crewcut, his eyes shifting everywhere around the alley except at me. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not married." He held up his ring-less left hand.

"It's inside your right sock." I smirked knowingly at him.

His face paled. "How do you..."

"That's not all I know," I cut him off and took another step toward him.

Panicked, he backed away, tripping and falling over his own clumsy feet. In an instant, I was standing over him, the heel of my platform leather boot pressing against his sternum just enough to make the experience uncomfortable for him, but not enough to crush his bones.

"You spend your nights at that sleezy club, having sex with woman after woman, while your wife mourns the loss of the baby girl that was laid to rest not even a month ago next to the boy that was lost six months prior."

“Hey, it’s not my fault she can’t keep a baby.”

I leaned down, applying more weight to his chest. “It’s not her fault either, you selfish bastard!”

He squirmed and coughed for air. "Alright," he gasped and grabbed ahold of my ankle with both hands. "I get it. I'll stop going to the club. I'll stop cheating on Julie." Frederick tried in vein to lift my foot.

While he struggled, I shifted my eyes. When I was little, I used to sit in front of the mirror for hours practicing the skill and watching as my bright blue irises changed to deep indigo. Among other things, it allowed me to see into his inner self, his honest thoughts, feelings, and desires. The words he spoke were no more than empty promises. He had no intentions of stopping his nightly escapades. He had no remorse for what he was doing or the destruction he was causing his wife. All he wanted was to save himself.

"You're nothing but a coward and a lair," I sneered at him. "You made a vow to honor and support your wife and you have broken it time and time again. There is no regret in your heart and, for all these reasons, a decision was made."

"What decision?" Fear caused his voice to shake.

Without a moment's hesitation, I allowed my wings to unfold and stretch out. Frederick stared up at me with horror-filled eyes. I lifted my foot from his chest and he scrambled to his feet, making a run toward the street. He bounced off the glamour, like an invisible trampoline, and it sent him flying backward.

Groggily, he rubbed his head as he stood and, once again, his eyes landing on me. "What the fuck are you?"

I ignored his question and instead recited the words I had spoken a thousand times before. "As a result of your deeds in this life, you have been sentenced to eternal damnation." While I spoke, the tattoos on my hands glowed bright red and the ground beneath where Frederick stood grumbled and shook. "I summon forth the Receivers of Hell."

At my request, the pavement cracked open and thick red smoke billowed out. Frederick coughed, covering his nose and mouth an in effort to shield himself from it, but there was no escaping the consequences of his actions. Swiftly, the shapeless smog formed into three figures covered by long black robes, the oversized hoods up to conceal their faces.

Two of them grabbed onto Fredericks arms, holding him firmly in place while the third stood in front of him. Receivers' grips caused instant paralysis to mortals, but the subject's mind remained fully conscious. The third Receiver, who wore an orange belt around their waist, pulled a small glass bottle from the robe's pocket and began chanting in the ancient language. The Receiver reached toward Frederick, drawing out the man's soul and pulling into the vessel.

Frederick's agonizing screams filled the air, but they would be inaudible to the world outside the glamour. I always found it to be a cruel joke that no one would hear them scream, just as no one heard their victim's cries for help. It was a fitting punishment, but it was nothing compared to what awaited them.

I watched as the remaining lifeforce was gathered and his physical body went limp with lifelessness. The front Receiver corked the bottle and turned toward me.

"Who do I have the pleasure of working with tonight?" I asked, peaking under the hood to try and catch a glimpse of the face underneath.

The Receiver lifted a hand and pushed the fabric down. I smiled, recognizing the golden eyes, creamy complexion, and long, intricately braided, white hair.

"Nora," I sighed. "It's been a while."

"It certainly has," she replied with a warm smile.

I pointed to the two Receivers behind her. "Let me guess, Phil and Danny?"

The other two removed their hoods, confirming my suspicion to be fact. The men released Frederick's body, letting it fall with a thud to the ground below and made their way over. Phil and Danny, like all male Receivers, had crimson colored skin and were nearly identical in height and build. The only true way to tell them apart was by their hair and tattoos. However since they were both robed, the latter of which wasn't an option.

Phil, who wore his dark hair pulled into a tight man bun, extended out a hand to me. "It's good to see you again, Kiera."

I shook it. "Likewise." As Danny approached, I flicked my eyes between them. "The two of you better be taking excellent care of my friend."

Nora giggled shyly as each of the men put an arm around her waist.

"I assure you, she is." Danny winked.

"Alright, enough." Nora wiggled out of their grips. "Bring the body down until we determine what we're going to do."

"Yes, my love," the men answered in unison.

Obeying their female lead, Phil and Danny made their way back to Frederick's body and lifted it between them. All three physical forms melted into the red smoke and crept back into the split in the pavement.

"I swear," Nora rolled her eyes, though I could tell it wasn't out of annoyance. "Sometimes it can be exhausting being bonded to the two of them."

"But would you want it any other way?" I teased lightly.

"No," she confessed as blush pinked her cheeks.

We broke out into innocent laughter and, after a few moments, she reached out and put a hand on my arm. "I really have missed you."

"I know. I missed you, too." I glanced away, guilt rushing into me. "I just needed to leave for a while."

"I understand," she said soothingly and wrapped her arms around me in a warm embrace.

Pulling in my wings, once again hiding them and my true identity, I returned the gesture. It felt good to see an old friend, especially Nora, after so long and, by the way she was squeezing me, I could tell she felt the same.

"I better get back to them," she said, withdrawing from me. "But, let's catch up soon, alright?"

I nodded and she smiled. Nora held up the bottle that was still grasped within her left hand with Frederick's scarlet colored soul swirling about within it.

"Good job."

"Thanks."

She turned and made her way back to the crevasse, but before she vanished into smoke, I called out to her. "Hey, Nora?"

She spun around and looked at me. "Yeah?"

"I know you'll pull the file, but just be delicate with this one. The last thing I want is for the bastard's poor wife to suffer anymore guilt than she already does."

Nora nodded slowly. "You have my word."

With that, she transformed into the same red smoke as before and seeped into the crack. The pavement closed seamlessly behind her, leaving no evidence of the events that had happened here tonight. That was the way it had been for thousands of years and how it would forever be.

I sighed, lowered the glamour, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. My assignment was completed, the ache in my body satisfied. Like every time before, there was no point in wrestling with the moral of it all, but it didn't stop it from surfacing. The hero verses monster dilemma was nothing new and I had long since learned there was no separating the two. It wasn't an either-or type of situation. As a Reaper, I was both.