Meadow POV

Sleeping through my morning feels strange. I am used to constantly working and not lounging around, even though it feels like a mini vacation.

The sun's rays are frying the skin on my arm as I smack my tongue, feeling a severe case of cottonmouth. I am dying of thirst. I woke up feeling like a posse of viscous toddlers jumped on my body with this back pressure headache from sleeping on the hard bench for too long. As my eyesight improves, all the boarded windows are gone, the reason the light blinds me. I raised while I kept my body curled because of the aches firing sporadically through my body as the feel of carrying a heavy rock on my neck shot sharp stings in my eyes.

"Even the Gods could not wake you. You slept your entire morning. If you were to die today, you would only have twelve hours to live," Arum said with a bland, dead look.

"Shut it." I raise higher with a sharp pinch in my lower back, hard to fight through the pain to pop it. I may be twenty-four, but my body is eight-six. It did not start happening until I met the creeper, Arum. I mean, reaper, I smirked to myself.

"Why every time you possess me, I feel weak." I look over at him.

"You are weak." He sharpened his scythe and watched the subtle rainbow light reflect on it.

"Oh, thanks, so honest," I swear, what a jackass. "How is your wing?"

"Healed." The swift wind blanketed my face as Arum expanded his feathers.

"I thought reapers wore wool robes to hide their skeleton body."

"Humans are imaginative creatures."

"Sure," I passively said, annoyed. "So what now?" I perked up at a more interesting topic that doesn't inquire about dying in 12 hours.

"Collecting," he sops up his wing like a slithering snake, sliding on his hellraiser coat.

"Now?" And what about the Warlock?

"Duty calls, and he will show either way. We focus on what's important. You are here to protect the gate, nothing more."

"But I feel like crap, and I don't want to wake up first thing in the morning and see people's souls twirling in a whirlwind into an urn." I fussed and then thought of a perfect way to mock the situation. "I mean, how does that even work? Hi, I like a cup of chill coffee with a creamer made of your soul." I joked. He reached out his hand to place it on my forehead, and I felt a faint energy slightly raise my prickling hair while it inserted into my pores, relieving me of this headache.

"So you heal people, too?" It's more to him than I thought.

"I trick the mind into believing it is not in pain." He answered, and I dropped my eyes low, thinking maybe he was more than death, but he was not anything but trickery and a mind manipulator. The perfect man to be in a relationship with.

"That doesn't sound healthy at all."

"Are you better?"

"Yes. But-"

"Do not be ungrateful."

"Ugh." I tug the flap at the rear of the shoe to pull it on. "Can we at least find a place so I can shower?"

"There is water not too far from here."

"The bayou?"

"It is water."

"Dirty water." I frowned at Arum.

"Humans are complicated."

"Whatever, I have a few more bucks for me to get a room until we figure out our next move."

"First, we collect the soul and then fulfill your human needs."

"You say that like you don't have any."

"I do." Arum said, and I smiled widely with hope and hidden dirty intentions. "The need to collect souls," he finishes.

"Ugh," I rolled my eyes, and he nodded with a smirk and smoothly walked away, watching his coat catch the wind while I followed behind with big, perky eyes and a sly smirk. My intrusive thoughts are going to unfold the tension. I feel a connection with the hot reaper guy- um, which is ironic now that I think about it. I once upon a time played with death, but now I dance with death because our one, two-step spin has been one hell of a rollercoaster. Ha, funny. I thought with an inquiring expression.

"Life outside of your brain is a beautiful place." He interrupted my inner speaking voice.

"Ha," my voice bounced through the church. "Giggles and shits, pretty boy, tell that to the book lovers." I cackled a bit more, but he looked indifferently. "You're no fun." I fluttered my eyes again and hiked up the path. I feel so icky. If I shake my shirt, I will see the dirt form into a smoke cloud. I'm hot, drenched in sweat, and sticky. The fold of my boobs stuck to me like it was about to bond to my chest. I fan my shirt to keep cool, almost breaking my ankles on this gritted trail.

"Why are we going this way? The festival is beyond those trees." I pointed.

"The soul awaits there."

"During the Humanity Festival? But it's a day to appreciate life, the irony."

"Life is precious, but there is never the right time to pass." He said as I gaped at him. He is such a mud pie, coat-wearing in 80-degree weather weirdo.

It isn't the time for me to be in a crowd of people smelling like ass and sewage water. I can feel the ground subtly thump because of bodies rustling with excitement from the parade. I would be caught dead then with my pants around my ankles. We reached the sidewalk, and I peeked around Arum's arm to see the cheering faces, crying babies, and loud, overly stimulated teens. The walkway is smothered with starburst-colored confetti and flags of peace on tall poles following the street. The floats that pass the skyscrapers are perfectly patterned together with playful animal themes and nature that are made of art papier mâché to represent life.

The gorgeous retro pink boutique stood at my attention with how sleek and perfectly curved it was. "Through here," I tapped Arum's arm and entered the place with wonder-struck eyes, but I noticed he didn't follow behind. I backtracked, searching outside through the glass door as I watched him disappear into the crowd. It isn't time to harvest the soul, so where is he going? I hunched my shoulder. The pretty antic niche has cosplay and outfits from the '50s to the '90s.

"Welcome! My name is Karlie." she cheesed, displaying all her teeth while I nervously tight-lipped a grin.

"Everything in the shop is donated by thousands of kind-hearted people who want everyone to partake in the parade. Humanity Festival is a day of appreciation of oneself and others. So we put together a fashion vogue by the time frame of life growing up and what you relish most about it. Maybe it was the 70s groove or the 80s hip hop. Or perhaps you live in your mind instead. We have nearly all the cosplay outfits, so help yourself. The powder room is in the back, and Happy Humanity Day." She spoke like a commercial ad.

Jeepers creepers, an opportunity to not smell like onion and horse manure.

***

Arum POV

The severity of how I should receive his soul will be up to you, for I cannot judge nor kill a human. That is my promise to you. Male. Twenty-seven and suffer from stage four lung cancer. The young soul lived his life as a solace in substance misuse. The young soul sold his soul to higher bitters for wealth. He defiled his body for immorality, spreading diseases. His childhood trauma led him to the depths of his chosen hell.

The young soul was abused by his uncles in ways of human capabilities. He fed his soul to the eye of the blood angel. The only good he has done was save a little girl from a burning car on the freeway. He is not a complicated one; he has sealed his fate. Therefore, I will relieve him of his suffering.

I raised my scythe, hovering over the man sitting in a wheelchair smoking a cigarette as I performed the ritual. He detected my shadow and gazed at me through the sun with a bright smile. His body is frail, and I can see the bones in his thigh. Weak and slender. His life suffered enough. I will receive your soul with gentle recess and peace. His four sisters are seated on the dark green grass around him, cheering with their raised mini-swirling flags.

"Look, Sam, the Man o' War, your favorite sea creature, is coming up." The sister smiled at him, knowing he'd reply, but noticed he'd slept off. "Sam," she called again. "Sam." She shakes him. The fear drove on her face of what might come too soon. She informed her sisters, and now in a full-on panic, screaming and yelling for help. There are others around to assist the bastard in the wheelchair.

An electric neon black light stung my scythe near the skin of the smoker's neck. "You can't stop, can't you?" The man himself spoke to me from behind my shoulder as I veered to face the Warlock.

"Don't fret. Your existence will black out." I pointed at him with the scythe.

"Funny. I was thinking the same for you."

"Leave now or risk your life."

"Risk my life? Have you forgotten you cannot kill me?" He admires the sky with a knowing smile, closing his eyes as though he had already claimed victory. "So, what now?" He surveyed me. "I cannot kill you. You cannot kill me. I say we call it a truce. You can sit still and open your pretty little swings so I can close the gate, casting you away. Now that I know, there are two gates. It makes my job harder, but knowledge is power. Is it not?"

"If you think I will let you do that twice. Well, you are more delusional than I thought." I cracked my neck. The warlock pulled out the wand and took off the sheath, displaying a six-inch blade with an ungodly smirk.

"Fine, let's have at it." His tone became darker.

We swiftly go head-on, crossing weapons, locking them together - face to face, now clenching our teeth.

***

Thank you for reading.