Wings

Epilogue

After killing Diana and losing my reaper powers, I walk over to where my dagger remains buried in the wall. I skirt around Diana's lifeless body. At the wall, I tug at the dagger, pulling with every bit of my strength I can muster. But as a mortal human, I have significantly less strength than I did when I buried the blade into the wall. After a few fruitless attempts, I give in and leave it. I turn away and slowly make my way out of the catacombs. I retrace my path back to the main room. I make a few wrong turns, but luckily, I find my way back on the right path after a few tries. When I return to the front room, I pause and glance around. My mind wanders back over the last few days. I can't believe it's only been six days since I killed Mack. If I had just held off one more day, Azrael might have sent another reaper to take down Bannier. One more day and Diana might have skipped town. One more day and I might still have Nick. I regret not listening to him. I regret not choosing to do one more recon mission on Mack. If I had, he might still be here. He might still be alive. He might still be...

Azrael is waiting outside, just like he promised. I still hold the feather in my hand. I am bruised, bloody, burned, and battered. But I am alive. For whatever that is worth.

I tell Azrael all the gory details of the fight. The fire. The tidal waves. The chain. The dagger. All of it. I am revolted by my own actions as I recount them to him. But he wants to hear it all, so I oblige. I tell him about the kill. About the cuts. One for him. One for me. One for Liam. And a final one for Nick. When I am finished, Azrael asks a single question. "What about Nick?"

"He's dead," I reply, emotionless. "She killed him."

Azrael nods in understanding. He disappears for a moment. When he returns, he has Nick's body in his arms. Seeing it again threatens to overwhelm me. Threatens to break the emotional dam in my body, letting my grief to flow freely. But the dam holds.

******

We bury Nick on a sunny Friday. It is Halloween. It is just me and Azrael at the service and the gravesite. It stuns the preacher at first. But we explain that there isn't anyone left alive to mourn Nick. Not anymore, that is. We ask for a simple service. Just the basic prayers. And at the gravesite, Azrael and I throw in a handful of dirt. Azrael purchases the headstone for the grave. It is a simple one. It just has Nick's name. 'Loving brother, son, and husband.' And a heart. When they deliver the headstone to the gravesite, I am there to direct the installation. Afterwards, I return to my hotel room and sob for an hour.

The grave is on the outskirts of Nick's favorite place that we ever lived. Just outside Breckenridge in Colorado. We lived there for a few months and Nick loved the view from our rental house. It seems fitting that his final resting place be near the place he wanted to return to for our forever.

After the funeral, I wander the world for a while. I visit Ireland and Scotland again. I see the ruins in Mexico and Peru. I surf in Hawaii. I visit Japan and climb Mount Fuji. I swim in the Great Barrier Reef off the coast of Australia. I snowboard in Aspen. Cliff-dive in Malay. Lounge under the sun in Jamaica. But none of it helps. I still feel lost. Bereft of any emotion, I am numb. A waste of space. A waste of clay. After crossing off everything I've ever wanted to do in a few short years, I find myself aimless. Alone. And I hate it.

So, I contact Azrael. Before he left me after the funeral and burial, he gave me a way to contact him. He promised to do anything he could to help me. He promised me a forever with Nick and failed to deliver. He promised me a full lifetime with Nick and failed again. I hold little hope that he could help me now. But I have to try.

When Azrael appears, he says nothing. He just stares into my hollow, haunted eyes. The same hollow, haunted eyes that greet me any time I glimpse myself in a mirror. I want to shed this numb feeling. I want a purpose in life again. And I know what I want that purpose to be.

"I want to become a reaper again," I tell Azrael. "I need a purpose. A reason to live. A reason to get up in the morning. I want to help people. Help those who need it. Help those who the justice system has failed. Make me a reaper again. But do not put me under contract. Please."

"Are you sure?" Azrael says. "I don't want you to do something you're not happy doing. I don't want you to make a choice because of grief."

"I am sure," I tell him emphatically. "I want to be a reaper. But I want it on my terms. I want to take the jobs I want. And I want the option to walk away. Whenever I want. Whenever I need to. Whenever the job gets to be too much, I want the ability to walk away. And when I am over being a reaper, when I am done with the maiming and the killing, when I am ready to be reunited with Liam and Nick, I want you to be the one to reap me. No one else."

Azrael stares me down for a moment. But I hold my own. And he knows I am worth the asking price I have named. I was his best reaper after all. You don't get that distinction just by killing a few weaklings. You earn that distinction. And if nothing else, taking down Diana should have earned me that distinction. It is difficult killing a death deity, you know.

Azrael relents. He knows I need this more than he needs me. And so, he restores me to being a Reaper.

******

This is my story. My story of how I became a reaper for Azrael, the angel of Death. My name is April Foster. And I am a Grim Reaper.