Jeremy was awakened by a piece of paper brushing against his nose. He groaned, snatched the offending piece of paper off his face, and turned on the bedside lamp. His sleep bleary eyes scanned the paper in his hand and another groan escaped his lips. It was another job. Barely six hours of sleep and already the job fairy had come to give him his next assignment.

He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, dragged himself out of bed, and pulled a pair of dark jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt out of the closest and yanked them onto his lanky frame.

Jeremy strode out into the entryway of his small home and glared at the black cloak hanging on a hook by the door. With a snarl he snatched it and tossed it around his shoulders. The silky material billowed around him for a moment before settling around his tall body. He pulled the hood up over his head; and grabbed the gleaming scythe from its corner by the door. He straightened his shoulders and marched out the door. Death never sleeps.

Jeremy was a Death Bringer, one of thousands of Grim Reapers. It was his job to travel to Earth and take people’s lives. He’d swipe his big, shiny scythe through the dying person and it would separate that person’s soul from their earthly body. Then the soul would go to Judgment.

No human souls went to Limbo. Death Bringers were spawned from other Death Bringers, just like humans were birthed from other humans. But children were rare in Limbo. Only a few were born every couple hundred years. So every few hundred years some of the older Death Bringers were retired and sent to Elysian and the younger ones were given jobs and their own homes in Limbo.

Both of Jeremy’s parents had been retired. They now existed in the sunny paradise of Elysian. Jeremy lived alone in Limbo. He didn’t care about the other Death Bringers. He didn’t have any male friends; and the females meant nothing to him; they were all gray and bland and enjoyed their job too much. Jeremy hated his job, taking mortal lives did not appeal to him, and so he felt no need to interact with others who enjoyed life as a Death Bringer.

And he was so envious of humans. They lived in brightness and color. They could feel hot or cold, instead of the same medium temperature of Limbo. They could eat and drink. And they had so many different things to consume. Jeremy would give almost anything to taste, to actually need food. The only thing his body needed was sleep, and that was to restore all the energy it took to travel between Limbo and the mortal world. Crossing worlds took a lot of energy and Jeremy usually needed all of the time in between jobs to rest. Occasionally he’d read a book stolen from Earth, but most of the time he collapsed as soon as he got into his house.

The day outside was gray and foggy. Limbo was always like that. It didn’t have the eternal sunshine and fluffy clouds of Elysian. Nor did it have the billowing blackness and fiery soot of Hades. And it certainly didn’t have the ever changing seasons of Earth. No, in Limbo, the place between Elysian and Hades where all the bringers of death resided, the weather never varied.

Earth was beautiful, and seeing a change from the dreary scenery of Limbo was the only thing Jeremy enjoyed about his job. Given the choice he would have rather been a Guardian Angel or even a demon; instead he was born into the life of a Death Bringer.

He glanced down at the piece of paper in his hands. It was a memo telling the time, place, and name of the person whose soul he was supposed to release. Jeremy sighed, shoved the memo into a pocket, and walked towards the Transport Station.

The Transport Station was a hulking black building with no windows. Inside the building were hundreds of elevators. A Death Bringer only had to enter an empty elevator, punch in their assignment location and the mortal’s name and he or she would be transported to their destination.

The Transport Station was always crowded and busy. Mortals were always being scheduled to pass on and the Death Bringers were always on duty. Today was no exception. Jeremy hated crowds, and always tried to get in and out of the Transport Station as quickly as possible. He spun around a few times, searching for an available elevator and found one nearby. He strode towards it and had one foot inside when he heard someone call his name.

"Mourir. Hey, Jeremy Mourir, wait up."

Jeremy paused halfway into the elevator and glanced over his shoulder. Thomas Périr was jogging up to him. Jeremy slapped a hand against his forehead and bit out a laugh. This was so not his day. Thomas was one of those enthusiastic Death Bringers. One of those guys who really enjoyed the job, and he was always trying to get Jeremy to lighten up.

"Hey, Jeremy," said Thomas. "You going out on a job?"

Unbelievable, Jeremy thought. "Yes, I’m going on a job. Why else would I be standing in a transport elevator?"

Thomas blushed a bit at Jeremy’s comment and said, "Sorry, obviously you were going on a job." Thomas glanced at Jeremy’s face and noticed the deep shadows under his eyes and said, "Didn’t get much sleep did you?"

Jeremy stared for a moment at Thomas’s chubby pink cheeks before saying, "No."

"I figured," Thomas replied. "I’m just getting off now, so it’s off to sleep for me."

"How lucky for you," Jeremy said.

"Well," Thomas said, looking a little uncomfortable, "I’d better let you get to work. See you later."

Jeremy gave him a curt nod and stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut and Jeremy leaned against the elevator wall. His closed his eyes and allowed himself a minute to relax.

After a moment an audio-recorded, female voice reminded him that he hadn’t typed in a destination, and Jeremy pushed himself away from the wall and towards the keypad. He typed in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and Maureen Collins. The voice thanked him and wished him well on his assignment. The elevator shook for a moment and then dinged open.

Jeremy stepped out into a brightly lit, white hallway in a hospital. A piece of white paper reading Maureen Collins had been plastered onto the wall next to the door.

He strode into the room, his black robes billowing, and saw Maureen lying on a bed. The woman couldn’t have been more than thirty mortal years; but her skin was ashen and it was obvious, even to the living that she was near the end. An I.V. was taped to her left forearm and the woman’s breathing was labored. Jeremy glanced at the chart hanging from the end of the bed and saw that the woman was dying of breast cancer. Tumors were eating away at her body and she had passed into a coma. Jeremy took a deep breath, raised his scythe and took a step towards Maureen.

A sob drew Jeremy’s attention away from Maureen and he saw a young woman kneeling beside the bed. Shivers racked the woman’s body and tears ran down her flushed cheeks. Her hands were clasped together and her lips moved in a silent prayer.

Jeremy turned away from her and moved next to Maureen. He lifted his scythe over his head and slashed it through the dying woman. The blade passed through her and the bed, but then the translucent figure of Maureen arose. Maureen’s spirit looked down at the woman still sobbing beside the bed and gave her a soft smile, and then she looked at Jeremy. She mouthed the words thank you and gave him the same gentle smile she had given the woman sobbing on her bed. Jeremy couldn’t help but smile back and then he said, "Go on," and Maureen’s soul faded from sight.

The machines that were connected to Maureen’s earthly body started beeping and flashing and blue clad doctors raced into the room.

Across the bed the woman who had been praying clutched her head and looked up at the ceiling. He heard her whisper, "Doors?" then, "Oh, God," and then her eyes met Jeremy’s and saw him; and that was when she started to scream.

Jeremy couldn’t tear his eyes away from the young woman; her eyes were a deep blue, as blue and as dark as the ocean. Her tear-stained cheeks glistened in the harsh lighting of the hospital room; and her long fingered hand flew up to cover her mouth.

One of the doctors in the room rushed over to the woman and tried to usher her out of the room; but she ignored him and stayed rooted in her place, staring at Jeremy.

"Death," the woman said. "I see him." She pointed a long finger at Jeremy and said, "He’s right there."

The doctor she was talking to whipped around and that was when Jeremy ran out of the room.

Jeremy heard the woman shout and ran into his elevator. The door shut and he disappeared before the woman reached the hallway. He leaned against the wall and pictured the young woman in his mind. With the image came a hundred different questions. The main ones being, how could she see him, and what was he going to do about it?

**********

Rory Collins grimaced at the bitter taste of the hospital coffee and added more cream and sugar. The hospital’s break room was dingy and small. Styrofoam cups were stacked in a curving tower next to the stained refrigerator. Coffee stirrers and packets of sugar and powered cream littered the tiny counter. Pop music blared from a beat-up radio sitting on the room’s only table. Rory glared at the radio, and then switched it off. She shook her head. How could people listen to that crap, especially in a hospital? People here were sick and dying; they did not need to listen to teeny-boppers wailing their heads off.

Rory looked around the run-down little room once more before walking out into the hallway. The hallway was painted white as snow and seemed as cold. To her, all hospitals were the same, cold and devoid of real life. They were hushed places, full of death and fear and only occasionally hope. She shivered a little and walked into her sister’s room.

"I’m back, Maureen," Rory said. She looked at her older sister and brushed a stray strand of blond hair off her forehead. Maureen’s breathing was labored, and her chest rose and fell at an unnatural pace. The heart rate monitor beeped steadily beside her sister’s bed, and the I.V. drip slowly pumped her comatose sister full of liquid food and medicine.

Rory settled into the orange plastic chair next to Maureen’s bed and reached for her sister’s hand. Maureen’s hand was warm, but felt almost boneless. When Rory squeezed it, there was no responding squeeze.

Rory looked down at her sister’s hands. The lime green polish on Maureen’s nails was over a week old. Rory let go and dug around in her purse for the nail polish remover, cotton swabs, and glittery sky-blue nail polish she had stuck in there earlier in the morning.

She doused a cotton swab with nail polish remover and said, "My boss has finally stopped being such a hard ass." She started rubbing the soaked cotton swab on Maureen’s nails and said, "I think she’s finally realized that you’re sick and that I need to spend time with you. I’m not sure why Joanne was being such a pain anyway; her mother had cancer. You’d think she’d relate. But you know Joanne; all she cares about is whether or not I’m there to answer the phone or type her memos. I hate being a lawyer’s secretary. You’re so lucky you’re the manager of Book World." Rory pictured Maureen’s glare at that last comment; Maureen did not enjoy her job. "Okay, I didn’t say that. But hey, you still get great discounts on books."

Rory imagined her sister laughing. Before Maureen got sick the two of them used to act like teenagers by trash talking their bosses and jobs while painting each other’s nails; usually they had massive amounts of ice-cream and pizza to keep them company as well. Now her sister couldn’t even talk to her, but Rory tried to keep things like they had been.

At the age of twenty-nine Maureen had terminal breast cancer. She’d tried radiation therapy, but the treatments had had little effect and they left Maureen feeling worn and sick. Eventually Maureen had come to terms with her fate, and now she was waiting her death out in a hospital. She had been too weak to eat on her own, and instead she had to be fed intravenously. She had been strong enough to swallow her pain medicine, but when she’d passed into a coma that, too, had to be given to her through an I.V. drip.

Rory knew that her sister was at the end. One of Maureen’s many doctors had said that she would, most likely, never wake from her coma. It was becoming harder and harder for Maureen to breathe, and the doctors had been forced to increase the amount of pain medicine they were putting into her sister’s body.

A single tear wormed down Rory’s cheek and she scrubbed it away. She wouldn’t cry, not in front of Maureen. Even if her sister couldn’t see her, she wouldn’t cry. She would be strong.

"There you are toots," Rory said, giving Maureen’s pinky finger one final swipe of blue polish. Rory grabbed the chair and dragged it to the other side of the bed. "I’ll just do this hand, and then do you want me to do your toes?"

Rory looked at her sister’s ashen face and felt more tears form in her eyes. Her beautiful, lively, wonderful sister was dying. Maureen’s face was pale, and even in her comatose state it was clear she was in a great deal of pain. Her forehead was sweaty, her hands clammy, and her face was flushed. Rory felt the tears spill over and start to fall down her cheeks. She slid off the chair and knelt by her sister’s bed, clasping her hands together on the bed, by Maureen’s thigh, and prayed.

"Please, God," she whispered. "Please, don’t let her die. Please, I need her. She doesn’t deserve to die."

And the heart rate machine started bleating, telling her and the whole hospital that her sister’s heart had stopped beating.

"No," Rory said.

The shrill ringing of machine alerted the doctors, and within seconds they were pouring into her room. None of them noticed Rory at first; but a few seconds after they entered the room, she felt something in her head. There was stab of pain so intense she felt it in her toes, and she saw a bright flash of light. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ward off the pain, and instead of the usual inky blackness behind her eyes she saw doorways. There were too many to count and they were all different shapes and sizes and colors. "Doors?" she said and she grabbed her head and looked up, trying to see where the flash of light had come from. "Oh, God," she whispered and that’s when she saw him, the man in black, the man with the scythe. She saw Death.

The scream was out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it. The doctors noticed her then. One of them, a younger man, approached her and tried to get her to leave the room, but Rory wouldn’t budge. Death was standing in her sister’s hospital room. Death in all his dark glory was standing in the middle of Maureen’s room. Harsh fluorescent light gleamed off the wicked curve of the scythe, and Death’s robes billowed in some unknown wind. His face was all that Rory could see. He had a strong, chiseled, face. He had a long, slightly crooked nose; and he black hair that fell over dark eyebrows. His eyes were a grayish black, rimmed with long lashes, and they were haunting.

Something about those eyes pulled her to him, and before she could think about it she said, "Death. I see him." She lifted her hand and pointed. "He’s right there."

The doctor who had been talking to her spun around and the figure in black darted out of the room.

"No!" Rory yelled, and she started pushing through the doctors crowding the room. By the time she got into the hallway the man had disappeared.

She was still looking around the hallway when one of Maureen’s doctors, younger than the rest and blond, came out of her room.

"Ms. Lorelei Collins?" he said.

Rory turned to the man and said, "Rory, please. I prefer Rory."

The doctor nodded and said, "Rory, I’m afraid there was nothing we could do for your sister. But you should know that when she passed on she didn’t feel any pain."

"How would you know?" Rory whispered.

"Excuse me?" said the doctor.

"Never mind," said Rory. "What do I do from here?"

"Well we’re going to need you to fill out some paper work and talk to you about organ donation and some other things," the doctor said. "I’m Doctor Michaels, by the way."

"Hello, Dr. Michaels."

The man smiled at her and said, "If you come this way we can get that paper work over with and you can go on home."

Rory nodded at him and followed him down the hall.

Several hours later Rory walked into her apartment and collapsed on the couch. Tears filled her eyes and she pulled a blanket off the top of the couch and curled into a little ball. Hot tears streamed down her face and she buried her face in a pillow. She was all alone now.

Several years ago her parents had been killed in a car accident. They had taken a ski vacation in Colorado; and on a particularly snowy night they had crashed into another car. They had died almost instantly and without much pain, according to the mortician, but the suddenness and the violence of the loss still haunted her.

And now her sister Maureen was gone. With Maureen, Rory had at least had a chance to finalize things and say goodbye, but that didn’t make it any easier. Whether you lost someone suddenly or you were prepared for it, it was still hard. And actually seeing her sister die certainly didn’t make her death easier.

But no matter how hard losing someone was, Rory couldn’t sit around and cry. She had never been one to let herself break down. If she was going to break down, it was going to be while she was doing something. With that thought in her head Rory went into her room, changed into her pajamas, grabbed a copy of Notting Hill and a tub of strawberry cheesecake ice-cream and settled back on the couch. If she was going to cry and be sad, she was at least going to have ice-cream and a chick-flick to help her feel better. But while Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant chased each other around the screen, the only things she could focus on were the strange doors she had seen and Death’s haunting eyes.

Jeremy threw down his scythe and cloak and yanked his boots off and flopped into bed, still fully dressed. He rolled onto his stomach and attempted to go to sleep, but as soon as his eyes closed, he saw the woman from the hospital. He saw her eyes, glistening with tears change from sorrow to horror as she saw him. He rolled over, opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. He groaned and threw his arm over his face. This was not working. He turned back on his stomach and buried his head in his pillow. He shut his eyes and the woman was still there, beautiful and staring at him, the first human to see him. "Son of a…," he growled. He heard a crinkling sound near his ear and a moment later a piece of paper plastered itself to his neck. "Damn it all," Jeremy snarled, he ripped the paper off his neck and glared at the words.

Instead of a job detail on the paper, like he had expected, there was an appointment time for him to meet with the Dark Angels. Jeremy collapsed back on the bed, allowing himself five minutes of rest before pulling his boots back on and heading to the meeting.

The walk was dull. It was gray and bleak and boring. He saw a few other Death Bringers on his way, but none of them said a word to him. They either nodded or looked away. He had a feeling that his frustration was being reflected on his face. Jeremy was known for being unfriendly and his colleagues usually avoided him. Today was no different. It really didn’t bother him either; he liked to be alone and usually his reputation allowed him that. Only Thomas Périr ever bothered to be friendly to him. It was one of the reasons Jeremy disliked him; he never got the hint that being a loner was Jeremy’s preferred way of life. Jeremy sighed again and brushed a few strands of hair off his forehead. Ahead of him loomed a huge building, and he walked towards it and his meeting.

The meeting was to be held in the Rock, a huge matte black building with no windows and only one door in or out. The Rock was where the council of Dark Angels met. The Dark Angels were in a position between Death Bringers and Guardians, or between Death Bringers and Demons. They governed the Death Bringers and messengers, meted out punishments, enforced laws, and dealt with problems between Earth and Limbo.

The Dark Angels were Jeremy’s immediate bosses, and he had a feeling that the reason they wanted to meet with him was because of the incident on his job earlier today. The Dark Angels were going to want to know why that woman had been able to see him. Jeremy sighed, pulled open the door to the Rock and walked in to meet them.

Rory heaved a sigh when Julia Roberts’s character said, "I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her." No one said anything like that in real life. Life wasn’t perfect or full of love and happiness. In real life people left, Rory had lost everyone she had ever cared about. Her parents, her sister, any boyfriend who’d seemed like the perfect guy, all of them were gone and she was alone.

She felt tears well up in her eyes and tried to focus on the movie. It was funny, it was happy, and it should have been making her feel better. She wiped her eyes and glanced at a picture on the end table next to the couch. The picture was of her and Maureen, when they were in their teens, eating pizza on the floor of their parent’s home. In the picture Maureen was laughing at Rory who had a piece of cheese stretching from her lips to a piece of pizza she was holding about a foot from her face. Rory felt a tear slide down her cheek. Her mother had taken that picture. It was from one of their movies nights; where her whole family would get together, eat pizza, and watch movies. Another tear worked its way down her cheek.

More tears slid down Rory’s cheeks and she furiously scrubbed at them; she would not break down. She closed her eyes to stop the tears and saw Death’s eyes again. They were haunting her; she couldn’t get them out of her mind. Watching a movie, eating ice cream, even thinking about her sister and better times couldn’t get those dark eyes out of her mind.

Rory curled up in the corner of the couch and pulled a blanket up to her chin, thinking. She didn’t know who the guy was. Obviously he was Death, he had the billowy robes and the scythe, but she didn’t know anything else about him, except that he had taken her sister from her and that his eyes haunted her. She didn’t know if she’d see him again or if seeing him meant that she was dying, but she did know that she wanted to see him again, that she needed to see him again.

She also had no idea why she had seen all the doors. She’s never seen any of them in her life and they were so strange. Some had been curvy, some round, some perfect squares, and some different shapes. Some of them had carvings on them, some were plain. And they were all different colors, red, mauve, blue, black, turquoise, yellow, orange, white and so many others. She didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, maybe she was losing her mind, like she’d lost everything else.

Jeremy was shown into the council room, by a messenger, and stood in front of the seven Dark Angels who made up the council of Limbo. They sat in a semi circle in enormous black wing-backed chairs, and they stared at him. The room was wide and had ceilings so high he couldn’t see the top. The room was huge and the people in it were intimidating and Jeremy grunted uncomfortably.

Finally a tall man with long blond hair stood and said, "Jeremy Mourir, please have a seat."

Jeremy stared at the man and the blond chuckled and waved his hand and a stool appeared beside Jeremy.

"As I said before," the man said and smiled, sitting back in his chair, "please have a seat."

Jeremy gave a curt nod and lowered himself onto the stool.

The blond man lowered his long bony hands into his lap and said, "I am Tristan." Tristan nodded to a woman with short black hair on his far right. "That is Aeryn," he said. "Next to Aeryn are Kail and Krysta." Tristan lifted one pale hand and gestured to his left. "Next to me is Jareth, then Andraya and Jakson."

Jeremy looked at the council members. Aeryn had a pointed face like a hawk and watched him like he was her prey. Kail had long white hair and glowing yellow eyes and he wore an amused look on his face, like he was hearing a joke no one else could hear. Krysta had soft violet eyes and a kind smile; and her long silver hair made her look more like a Guardian, instead of what she was. Jareth had a mane of flyaway blond hair, streaked with blue; and he wore a full grin on his face and seemed to be having a grand time sitting in a chair doing nothing. Andraya’s hair was a flaming red and her black eyes seemed to hold their own rage filled flames. Jakson looked the most normal of the bunch; his short brown hair and kind smile were nothing extraordinary. The most amazing thing about him was his bright orange eyes. Leading them all was Tristan, sitting in his chair with a slight smile playing across his handsome face and his floor length blond hair blowing in its own wind. Jeremy gulped; this wasn’t going to be fun.

"Jeremy," Tristan said. "I assume you know why you’re here."

Jeremy hesitated for a moment before nodding. "It’s about the woman I saw while on my job today, right?"

"Correct," Tristan said and smiled. "Although to be more accurate this meeting is about her seeing you." Tristan leaned forward a bit and said, "Tell us everything, Jeremy. What happened?"

Jeremy glared at Tristan. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what had happened. He didn’t know why that woman had been able to see him. As far as Jeremy knew, nothing like this had ever happened to anyone before. What was he supposed to say?

He had been quiet for too long. Tristan leaned forward a bit more and said, "Don’t be afraid, Jeremy. Tell us what happened."

Jeremy slumped forward, his elbows on his knees, and said, "I don’t know sir. I-"

"Please, Jeremy, call me Tristan."

"Alright, Tristan," Jeremy said. "I honestly don’t know what happened. I was assigned to make Maureen Collins die. I did that; I released Maureen’s soul from her body. But there was this woman in the room with her and when I separated Maureen’s soul from her body the woman started saying she could see Death. I don’t know why she could see me; I just know that she did."

Tristan leaned back in his chair and furrowed his brow. He was silent for a moment, and then said, "I’m sorry to make you repeat yourself Jeremy, but could you please give me a complete time line of what happened after you stepped off the elevator and onto Earth. I would like to understand, step-by-step, exactly what happened."

Jeremy nodded, once, to Tristan and said, "I stepped off the elevator and walked into a hallway; Maureen was in a hospital. I walked into her room and noticed a woman kneeling by her bed, crying and praying," Jeremy paused and glanced at Tristan. Tristan lifted a hand and motioned for him to continue. "I noticed the woman but then I went about my business. I swung my scythe through Maureen and watched her soul rise up from her body. I told her to ‘go on’ and she smiled at me and faded away," Jeremy paused again and looked down at the ground.

"Go on, Jeremy, don’t be afraid," Tristan said.

"I'm not afraid. I’m just trying to remember the exact way the next part happened."

"Alright, Jeremy," Tristan said. "Take your time."

Jeremy closed his eyes and pictured the woman again. Her eyes a stormy ocean blue so deep in color he could almost see waves crashing in them. Her lips, pink and lipstick free, moving in a silent prayer. He saw the woman’s long fingered, elegant, hands clutch her head in pain and he saw those too blue eyes fix on his.

Jeremy opened his eyes and looked at Tristan and said, "When Maureen died her doctors rushed in, trying to save her; and the woman, she must have seen something or felt something. She clutched her head and when she looked up she saw me."

"Is that all, Jeremy?" Krysta asked.

Jeremy turned away from Tristan and looked into Krysta’s soft violet eyes. She gave him a gentle smile and Jeremy felt as if she could somehow look into his soul. Like those kind, gentle eyes could see though him and know everything in his head and in his heart.

He shook his head and said, "She said she saw Death. She pointed at me and told one of the doctors that she could see Death." Jeremy shook his head again. "When she said she could see me, I ran. She shouted at me, and I think I heard her run after me but I don’t know what happened after that. The elevator door closed before she could catch up to me."

"I see," Tristan said.

"Are you sure that’s all?" Kail said, his white hair flashing in the dim lighting.

Jeremy paused for a moment, thinking, and then said, "She also said something about a door or maybe doors. I’m not sure why." He peeked up at Tristan, and saw his eyes widen in surprise at what he said.

Kail glanced at Tristan and said, "What do you think?"

Before Tristan could say anything Krysta said, "Before we decide what to do, or what this means, I think we should all agree that Jeremy had nothing to do with what happened."

Each member nodded his or her agreement, except for Aeryn. She glared at Jeremy then said, "You’re sure he’s telling the truth, Krysta."

Krysta smiled at Jeremy, staring into his eyes and seemingly searching his soul, and said, "He’s telling the truth."

Aeryn glared at Krysta for a moment and then nodded and said, "What are we going to do about this woman? We can’t have a human knowing about us."

Jakson jerked his head towards Aeryn and said, "She’s right. We can’t have a human wandering around Earth, knowing that we exist. We have to do something about her."

"Maybe we should tell the Guardians and let them do something about her," Krysta said.

"No," Andraya said. "This is our problem. A human saw one of our people. We are the ones who have to deal with this."

"I agree," said Kail. "One of our Death Bringers was seen. We should find the solution to this."

"Besides," said Jareth. "If we bring in a Guardian, we’d have to bring in a Demon too. We are neutral beings. We exist between Elysian and Hades. If we brought in someone from Elysian, we’d have to bring in someone from Hades too."

Jeremy watched the Dark Angels argue back and forth. They were loud, focused on themselves, and not interested in him, now that he had finished his story. The only member of the Council not arguing was Tristan. He was watching the others, his chin resting on his hand and a half smile on his face.

"Enough," Tristan said. "I agree with Jareth. We shouldn’t bring in a Guardian, or a demon, unless the problem gets out of our hands. But, we do need to decide what to do about the human girl." Tristan looked at Jeremy. "For starters, we need to learn her name and where she lives."

"I don’t know her name," Jeremy said. "I don’t know how she’s connected to Maureen, but she was visiting Maureen in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I can only assume she lives there. That’s all I know."

Tristan nodded. "That’s a start. As I see it, we have three options. One, we let the woman be. Two, we turn her into one of the Death Bringers; which, as you all know, is something we rarely do and we usually have to consult Elysian and Hades. And three, we bring in the Guardians and the demons and let them decide what to do."

"Maybe we should just kill her," Jareth said, laughing.

Jeremy tensed, clenching his hands, when he heard Jareth’s suggestion. He couldn’t be serious. Death Bringers only ended a person’s life when it was their time. They didn’t kill people, it wasn’t their right. Jareth could not be thinking of killing this human.

"You’re not serious, are you?" Jakson asked.

Jareth waved a hand and said, "Of course not."

Jeremy let out a sigh of relief; and he noticed several others do the same; it seems he wasn’t the only who couldn’t tell whether or not Jareth was joking. He turned to look at Tristan and noticed that the man had an odd gleam in his eyes, and his care-free smile had turned into a sneer.

The look lasted only a moment, and then Tristan’s normal, happy, face returned. He glanced at Jeremy, noticed him watching him, and said, "That will be all Jeremy. We no longer need you here. You’re free to go."

The other Council members murmured their agreement, and Tristan called for a messenger to escort Jeremy from the room. The messenger walked in and pulled Jeremy to his feet, bowed to the Dark Angels, and ushered Jeremy out the door.

Jeremy glanced back once, saw that that same sinister look was back on Tristan’s face, and then the heavy black doors slammed in his face.

Jeremy could hear raised voices through the door, tempting him to stay and eavesdrop, but just as he leaned towards the door, the messenger started shooing him out of the Rock.

"Sorry, sir," the messenger said. "So sorry, but if the Council finds you here when they get out of their meeting, they won’t be happy, and you don’t want to see the Council members angry. So please sir, leave."

"Alright, alright," Jeremy snapped. "I’m going." He walked out into the gray light of Limbo and heard the doors to the Rock slam shut behind him. He looked back once, and then started the walk home.

If anyone said anything to him on his way back, he didn’t hear it. He was too lost in his thoughts. He knew that the Council members would expect him to stay out of the situation now that he had told them everything. He knew that they would want to handle the problem on their own and that they wouldn’t ask him for any help. But part of him wanted to help. The look on Tristan’s face after Jareth’s joke suggestion frightened him. He didn’t know the woman. He didn’t know her name, where she lived, what she did for a living, or how she knew Maureen, but he did know that he had a connection with her. Ever since he saw her, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. His mind was filled with her, he wanted to help her, and he wanted to protect her.

He stopped walking. He wanted to protect her, he needed to protect her. He’d have to figure some way to find out her name and where she lived before the Council found her. He had no idea how he would do it, but somehow he’d have to.

Jeremy nodded to himself and looked up, without realizing it he’d walked right up to his front door. He turned the knob and stepped into his house. He kicked his boots off and walked to his bed. He could plan how to save the woman all he wanted, but without quality sleep he’d never be able to do anything. With that last thought in mind he collapsed into bed.

Rory slammed her hands down on her keyboard and shrieked. She’d been up and searching on-line for hours, trying to find stories or myths or, frankly, anything about the Grim Reaper. She knew she’d seen him; and if she could, that meant someone else on the planet had to have seen him. But so far she’d only found ancient myths describing one’s journey to life beyond death, or of one returning to life after dying. Or she’d found stupid Satanist sites claiming that Death worked for the Devil and if a person saw him then their life was over. She hadn’t found one even semi valid article of anyone ever actually seeing Death.

She didn’t know whether to be angry or scared. Not finding anything about the Grim Reaper being real, either, meant that she was somehow special, or maybe it meant that she was dying. But, she hadn’t found any reports of dying people seeing Death either. She didn’t know where else to look. She could probably go and check in the local library, but if she couldn’t find anything on-line she was pretty sure she wouldn’t find anything there.

She hadn’t even started looking for anything on those doors yet. For all she knew, they were a figment of her imagination.

The phone rang; shrill in the quiet of her apartment. Rory picked it up and said, "Hello."

"Ms. Collins?" a male voice said on the other end.

"Yes," Rory said.

"Ms. Collins this is Edward Dillman from Dillman’s Funeral Home. I’m calling about some details about your sister’s funeral. Is now a good time?"

"Yes, um, now is fine," Rory said.

"Great. I need to know the date of the funeral and the visitation, if you want one," Edward said.

"I hadn’t really thought about it," Rory said.

"Alright," Edward said. "How about the memorial, have you thought of a foundation you like to donate to?"

"No, I really haven’t thought about it," Rory said.

"Ms. Collins, I know you’re grieving but you need to think about these things. Funerals can’t wait forever. I’ll need to know soon."

"I know, Mr. Dillman. I’ve just been going through a hard time. I just need a little more time, but I promise to let you know by tomorrow morning."

"I’m sorry I was so harsh, Ms. Collins. Take your time and let me know soon."

"I will," Rory said.

Rory looked at the phone for a moment, then set it gently back in its cradle and sank into her desk chair. Funeral. Maureen’s funeral. She really hadn’t thought about the funeral since she’d been at the hospital over a day ago. She knew that it was irresponsible and that she needed to be thinking of it. But, thinking about it made her remember that she’d lost her last relative, that she’d lost the last person she loved. And funerals were just so hard. She’d been to her share, and she’d hated them all.

She didn’t even know if she wanted to have a full funeral for her sister. She thought maybe a cremation and a small memorial service would be best for Maureen. Them she could let her sister be in all her favorite places. Maureen could be with the trees and flowers and animals. She could be part of the nature she’d always loved; she didn’t have to be buried in the cold, wet ground with the worms. And if she had a memorial, all of Maureen’s friends and co-workers could pay their respects and say goodbye. Maureen would have liked that.

She liked the idea of cremation, but she wasn’t sure it was what Maureen would have wanted. Rory and Maureen had never discussed plans for when Maureen died. Rory had always meant to bring the subject up, but somehow she never got around to it. It had always seemed like a subject too sad to talk about with her dying sister. And now she was at a loss about what to do.

She buried her head in her arms. She wanted someone here to help her. She didn’t want to do any of this alone. She didn’t want to be alone. She missed her sister. With Maureen there, Rory had felt like she could do anything. She could be Superwoman, she could be goofy or weird; she could be herself.

Rory lifted her head and wiped her eyes. This was no time to cry. She had things to do. She had to figure out what to do about her sister, she had to write an obituary for the paper, and she had to call her boss.

Calling Joanne was the easiest thing to do. Rory lifted the phone from its cradle and dialed Lohman’s Law Firm.

The phone rang twice and then a woman with a stern voice picked up and said, "Joanne Leigh here."

"Joanne, it’s Rory," Rory said.

"Yes? When will you be coming back to work, Rory?"

"Not for a few days, Joanne. Maureen, she died. Today, she died earlier today."

"I see," said Joanne. "Well, take as much time as you need. I know these things can be hard. I’ll see you soon."

"Thank you, Joanne," Rory said, but Joanne had already hung up.

Rory stared at the phone, then set it down. Her boss could be such a bitch. Alright, Joanne had given her leave time to settle things with Maureen, but she hadn’t even said she was sorry. Hell, she hadn’t even sounded sorry. Sometimes Rory thought her boss had no soul.

She sighed and ran a hand through her blond hair. Whether or not Joanne had a soul didn’t matter right now. She had tons to do and little time to do it in. The only thing she’d gotten out of the way was calling her boss. Next on the list was deciding whether Maureen would have a full funeral or cremation and a memorial service. Rory still didn’t know about that one, but it could wait. She wouldn’t be able to make any decisions if she didn’t sleep. She’d been up since eight in the morning and, while it was only late afternoon, grief and the weight of future decisions were weighing her down.

Rory walked into her bedroom, pulled the blinds, and slipped into bed. She snuggled down and pulled her navy blue flannel comforter, patterned with green and crème polka-dots, up to her chin and sank into her multitudes of pillows. She sighed as her eyes drifted shut, on the verge of sleep, she loved her bed.

A glowing figure emerged from the darkness. It was a woman wearing an ankle-length white gown. The gown moved as if caught in the wind, although Rory felt nothing. The figure got closer and Rory could see short, wavy blond hair. Pale arms encased in white reached out to her, and Rory could see sky blue nail polish on the figure’s fingernails.

"Maureen, is that you?" Rory said.

Her sister stopped in front of her and smiled. The pearly glow around her made her more beautiful than she had ever been while she was alive. Maureen lifted one polished hand and rested it against Rory’s cheek. "Everything will be fine, Rory. I promise. He’ll keep you safe."

The image shifted and instead of her sister she was looking and a man. His messy black hair stood out around his face, a face that was so pale it nearly glowed. "I’ll protect you," he said. "I’ll always protect you." He lifted a pale hand and held it there, waiting for her to take it. She looked at it, studying its size and long fingers. It looked strong. The hand looked like something that would hold her, stroke her, and keep her safe. She looked up from the man’s hand and met his eyes, his storm cloud gray eyes. They were eyes she knew, eyes she’d seen, they were eyes that haunted her. She stared into those eyes until they faded into the darkness and realized that they were Death’s eyes.

The woman screamed and fell over. She scrambled to her feet and, whimpering, staggered down the hall. She tripped over her baggy black sweatpants and fell again. She clung to the wall and looked over her shoulder. Tears trailed down her face, and strands of blond hair stuck to her cheeks.

A cold, vicious laugh filled the narrow hallway and a blurred figure came into view. The person was tall and broad shouldered and male. Jeremy squinted, trying to make out more of the attacker’s body, but everything about the man was hazy.

The woman shrieked and Jeremy looked back at her. She’d come to the end of the hall and was huddled in the corner. She’d curled her body into a ball, and she was shivering. "What do you want? Why can’t you leave me alone?" she whispered, peeking out through the arms she’d wrapped around her head.

The man chuckled and it was deep and full of malice. "I can’t leave you alone because I need you to complete my plans." He laughed again and stalked towards her. "You are the key to everything."

The man reached for the woman, she screamed, all her fear and hate echoing down the hall. And Jeremy dove towards her and said, "Rory."

He shot up in bed. Sweat covered his brow and his chest rose and fell rapidly and he tried to catch his breath. He’d never dreamed like that before. He rarely ever dreamed, and when he did, his dreams were calm, normal, not terrifying. This dream had been about the woman he’d seen earlier. Rory. The name came to him and he knew it belonged to her. Sweet Rory, his dream about her had left him drenched in sweat, muscles clenched, ready to save his human.

Jeremy rubbed his hand against his chin and grinned. He just realized he’d thought of Rory as his human. His grin broadened when he realized that it was true. She was his human. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he’d felt a connection to her. He couldn’t stop thinking of her. When he closed his eyes it was her face he saw. He felt a fierce protectiveness for her. And now he’d dreamed of her; and seeing her in trouble, even in a dream, had nearly caused him to go tearing off to Earth to save her.

Jeremy relaxed against his pillows. He knew Rory wasn’t really in trouble. Although his dream had been terrible, he’d woken up knowing it wasn’t real. He had a feeling that if she were ever really in trouble he would know about it.

And now that he knew her name he knew he’d be able to find her. Assuming she was Maureen’s sister, she’d most likely be living in the same city. So all he had to do was find a way to sneak down to Earth and he’d be able to find her. More importantly, he’d be able to keep her safe.

Now he just needed to find a time to get to Earth. There was never a slow time of the day in Limbo. People on Earth always needed to pass on. It was what made life as a Death Bringer so hard. They never got time off, and they never had much time to sleep or do anything between jobs. So there really wasn’t a suitable time for him to sneak off to help Rory.

Jeremy scratched his nose and crawled out of bed. Now was as good a time as any to make the trip to Earth. Better to do it spontaneously than to plan it out and have someone catch on to his plans.

He stripped off his wrinkled and slept in clothes and donned a clean pair of black jeans and a black long sleeved t-shirt. He tugged his boots on and strode out of his bedroom and towards the door. He hesitated at the door and glanced over at his cloak and his scythe. He wouldn’t need them on Earth. He wasn’t going to release Rory’s soul from her body, but it would look suspicious if he wasn’t dressed properly. As a Death Bringer he was allotted some free time on Earth to go where he pleased, but he didn’t use that time very often. He usually preferred to spend whatever free time he had sleeping or reading contraband books from Earth. So it would look doubly suspicious if he decided to use his free time on Earth now. He grabbed his cloak and swung it onto his shoulders. He picked up his scythe and studied it. Even in the dim light it gleamed brightly, and he could feel the power in it humming through his fingers. It was a powerful tool; used for good but capable of evil. He’d take it to Earth with him, but he wouldn’t use it. Not this time, and he hoped the sight of it wouldn’t frighten Rory too much. He hefted it onto his shoulder and walked out of his house.

He could see the hulking shape of the Transport Station in the distance and he headed towards it, hoping no one would see him or talk to him on the way.

He was almost to the Transport Station; there were only a few more houses between him and the entrance when he heard someone call his name. He turned and saw Thomas Périr leaning against one of the houses. He didn’t look nearly as rosy-cheeked and bubbly as usual. His wore a smirk on his usually cheery face; and his whole stance had changed from cheerful half-wit to that of a sly predator.

"Where are you going, Jeremy?" Thomas said.

"Earth," Jeremy said. "I have another job."

"Is that so?" said Thomas.

Jeremy hesitated a moment and then nodded.

Thomas studied his nails and said, "Whatever you say, Jeremy. Have fun on your…," he paused, looking at Jeremy and sneering, "job."

Jeremy took a step back, then glared and said, "You know I never enjoy my jobs. Don’t start wishing me well now." He nodded once at Thomas and walked towards the Transport Station. He glanced back once and saw that Thomas had disappeared. He could not figure out what that had been about. Thomas had always been annoyingly cheerful. Jeremy had never once seen him act like that. He had acted as if he knew something that Jeremy didn’t, as if Thomas knew that Jeremy wasn’t going to Earth for a job. But that was impossible. Jeremy hadn’t even made the decision to go to Earth until a few minutes ago. How could Thomas have known? Unless someone had told him that Jeremy was going. But again, who could have known that Jeremy was going to Earth?

Jeremy shivered a bit and walked into the gleaming bulk of the Transport Station. He quickly found an open elevator and stepped into it. He typed in Rory’s name and Cedar Rapids, Iowa. He was lucky the elevators were automated; they couldn’t tell the difference between a real job and a fake. Of course, he thought, nothing like his situation had ever happened before, so no one had ever had the need to create a fake job just to get to Earth.

The elevator dinged and the door whooshed open; and Jeremy found himself standing in a comfortable looking, but small, living room. A wide, cushy, slate blue couch took up close to half the space of the room. Sitting adjacent to the couch was a plush sage green chair. A silent television sat across from the couch and the top of it was covered with DVD boxes. A crème colored blanket lay crumpled on the couch; and a pair of navy, fuzzy slippers lay askew on the floor. The whole room had a very comfortable, lived in feel to it; and Jeremy immediately felt comfortable there.

But there was no Rory. He leaned his scythe against a wall and turned around and faced a kitchen dining room combo. A small table with four chairs sitting around it sat in the middle of the kitchen. A used spoon sat on the counter next to the sink; and a carton of ice-cream was melting on the counter. But there was still no Rory.

He turned to his left and saw a narrow hallway. He strode down and found a cluttered bathroom, a tiny closet, an extra bedroom that was being used as a computer room, and finally one last door. Rory had to be in whatever room that was. The apartment she lived in was not very big, so she had to either be in this last room or out.

He turned the knob and found himself in a dark room. He shot his hand out and searched the wall for a light switch. He found it and switched it on and saw that he was in Rory’s bedroom. There were clothes scattered about the room. There was a dresser to his left and the top was covered with lotions, make-up, and books. A small book shelf next to the dresser held piles upon piles of books.

In the middle of the room was the bed. A navy blue comforter, patterned with green and crème polka-dots covered the bed; and piles of blue, green, and crème pillows rested against the head of the bed. And in the middle of all of it was Rory. Her blond hair, rumpled with sleep, poked out from under the comforter.

Rory hadn’t awakened when he’d turned on the light, so he strode towards the bed and shook her shoulder. "Rory," he said. "Wake up."

Rory moaned and snuggled deeper into the covers.

Jeremy shook her shoulder harder. "Rory," he repeated. "Wake up."

She swatted at his hand and cracked open an eye. And then she screamed. She jerked away from his hand and fell out of bed. She struggled to get up, but her legs were tangled in the sheets.

"Rory," he said.

She scrambled free of the sheets and said, "No."

He made a move towards her and she dashed out of the room and down the hall. He went after her and found her standing, with her back to him, in the kitchen.

When she heard his footsteps she visibly stiffened and then whirled around and faced him.

"Stay away from me," she said and raised a metal spatula.

Jeremy lifted one dark eyebrow and said, "What do you plan on doing with that?"

Rory ignored the question and said, "I know you. You were in Maureen’s hospital room today. You took her life. You’re Death. And you’re not taking me."

"I didn’t plan on it," said Jeremy.

That one statement seemed to calm Rory down. She lowered the spatula and stared at him instead. Jeremy was fine with her staring. She could talk when she was ready.

"You’re not…you’re not going to kill me?" she said after a minute.

"No," said Jeremy.

"But, you killed Maureen," Rory said.

"I had to," Jeremy said. "It was my job. It was her time to pass on."

"Is that what happened? She passed on? Did she go to Heaven?"

Jeremy winced. "I’m really not allowed to talk about it," he said. Even though no mortal had ever seen his kind, it didn’t seem like a good idea to discuss the workings of the Other Realms. It would lead to too many uncomfortable questions and answers that she didn’t need to know.

Silence stretched between them. Jeremy shuffled his feet and Rory stared at the floor.

After a few minutes in strained silence Rory said, "I’m sorry I screamed. But the last time I saw you, you were standing over my sister, and you had that scary scythe…," she said, trailing off as she noticed the scythe against the wall. She shuddered and said, "And I thought you were going to kill me."

Jeremy smiled and said, "I couldn’t kill you, even if I wanted to. It’s against the laws of my kind. We can only help the dying along when it’s their time to go. We can’t kill on a whim."

"Oh," she said.

Rory looked flustered and uncomfortable, and she was still holding the spatula.

"So," said Jeremy. "What were you going to do with the spatula?"

Rory looked down at the spatula and said, "I was going to hit you with it."

"You were going to hit me with it?"

Rory glared and said, "Hey, I was panicked, okay. I grabbed the first thing I could find that could be a weapon."

"And you picked a spatula. There are six perfectly good knives in that holder over there. Not that any of them could do me any harm."

Rory glanced behind her and saw the knife holder, and Jeremy saw her face turn red.

"I didn’t see those," she said.

Jeremy laughed and said, "Well at least you were prepared to defend yourself, that’s always better than cowering in a corner." He had a flash of his dream. In it Rory had been cornered, cowering against a wall screaming. He’d make sure that would never happen.

"So, why are you here?" Rory said. And after a moment she added, "And what’s your name?"

"My name is Jeremy. Jeremy Mourir."

"Mourir, isn’t that French for death?"

"Yes," he said. "All the Death Bringers have last names that mean death or something to that effect."

"Why is that?"

"To symbolize what we are. We bring death, so it’s only fitting to have names that mean death."

She nodded and said, "And why are you here?"

He hesitated at that. "I don’t know. I knew you saw me at the hospital, and ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I don’t mean to sound strange, but I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. And then I had a dream about you and then I knew I had to see you."

She nodded slowly, digesting what he’d said, and then asked, "How did you know my name?"

Again he hesitated. It was strange for him to be telling her about his dream. He didn’t want to frighten her any more than he already had. Finally he said, "Someone said it in my dream, and I just knew it was your real name."

She looked up at him and into his eyes. Her eyes were dark blue and were full of trust. "I had a dream about you too," she said. "You were reaching out to me, and you said you would protect me." She looked away from him and stared at the soggy carton of ice-cream. "I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know why I can see you. But I do know one thing," she turned back to him, "I trust you. I don’t know why I trust you, but I do."

Rory felt her face heat up and she spun around, reaching up into a cabinet to get a glass. She trusted him. It felt so weird, trusting someone she’d just met and someone who’d taken her sister’s life. But she understood that he had just been doing his job; just like typing and filing was a part of her job. She shook her head; this was too weird. It was not okay that killing people was someone’s job. But, somehow, it seemed alright if it was Jeremy doing it. And now she trusted him. She never trusted people this easily, but she felt a connection to him. Something she’d never felt before, not with her family or with any other guy. She wasn’t sure what the feeling was exactly, just that she felt a closeness to him. And she felt like she needed him in some way, and that he needed her.

Rory suddenly realized she’d been standing in one spot, holding a glass, for a least a minute. She scurried over to the refrigerator and filled her glass with ice and water. She peaked over her shoulder and said, "Um, would you like anything to drink?"

Jeremy looked surprised for a minute, and then said, "I don’t eat or drink."

"Right, of course," Rory said and then paused, "What?"

Jeremy grinned and said, "I am not a human. I don’t need food and drink like you do. The only thing I need is sleep, and I only need that to replenish my energy." The grin faded from his face and he said, "I’m not technically alive. I just go on existing, forever taking mortal lives and sending them on to wherever they’re destined to go."

Rory felt her heart cry out to him and before she knew it she had pressed herself against his lanky frame and had her hand on his cheek. She didn’t know what to say, so she just rubbed her thumb over his cheek. His cheek was rough, like he hadn’t shaved, although Rory couldn’t see any stubble. Strangely enough the texture of his skin suited him; there was no visible roughness, it was just a part of him.

"I, I’m sorry," she finally said, looking down at his shirt.

"Rory," Jeremy said, dragging a hand through her hair and forcing her eyes up to meet his. "You have nothing to be sorry about. This is my life; I should be used to it by now."

Rory rolled her eyes and said, "Jeremy, it’s your life. You shouldn’t have to get used to it. You should love it. How can you live a life you hate, have a job you hate?"

"Rory, I don’t have a choice. It’s what I was born to do; I’ve spent every day of my, very long, life hating what I am and what I do. I’ve gotten used to it."

"I still don’t think you should have to get used to it; there should be a way to get out of it." Rory thought for a moment then said, "Are there others like you?"

"Yes," Jeremy said.

"Do they like their jobs?"

"I’d guess that they do," Jeremy said. "They seem happy enough."

"If they’re happy with their jobs, then why are you unhappy?"

"I don’t know," said Jeremy. "I guess I’ve always seen human life as precious. I’ve always wanted it for myself; and I hate ending it, even if it’s the person’s time to pass on."

Rory stepped away from Jeremy and wrapped her arms around herself. He was so good. He was Death; he took people’s lives, but he was so good. He hated what he did, he did it because he had to, because he had no choice, but he took no joy in it. He wasn’t like the way Death was always depicted in the movies, TV, or books. He was kind, he was gentle, and he was beautiful.

He wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense. His nose was a bit crooked. His hair was a little too long and shaggy; it hung in his eyes and he was constantly batting it away. He was tall and lanky, but in the brief moment when she’d been pressed against him she’d felt hard muscle that was hidden by his baggy shirt. His fingers were long and bony and pale. He’s pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and his long, graceful hands curved into strong forearms. But it was his eyes that attracted her. They were the eyes she’d dreamed about, the eyes that haunted her. She could see now that they were a deep dove gray rimmed in black. His eyelashes were long and thick, eyelashes any woman would want.

Rory blushed and turned away. "So, why are you here, Jeremy? Not that I mind you being here, of course. But was there some specific reason you came?"

"Yes," Jeremy said. He hesitated and shuffled his feet a bit before saying, "I have this feeling that you’re in danger Rory."

"In danger? Why would I be in danger?"

"Because you can see me," Jeremy said. "No human has ever been able to see a Death Bringer. Humans have been able to see other beings of the other worlds, but they aren’t supposed to be able to see Death. Humans have enough that frightens them; they don’t need us to help them. Besides, the demons do enough frightening for all of the other worlds."

"Demons," Rory said.

"You don’t want to know about them."

"Of course not. Let’s get back to how I’m in danger."

"Well, I’m not sure you are, but I had this meeting with the Dark…with my superiors. We were trying to figure out how you were able to see me and what to do about it. And one of them, Jareth, jokingly said that we should kill you."

"What," Rory said. "Your bosses want to kill me?"

"It was a joke. Jareth meant it as a joke. It’s his kind of joke, Jareth is a little strange."

"He was still joking about killing me."

"Yes," Jeremy said, "and that was wrong, but it was a joke. This next part is more important. When Jareth said that, Tristan, the head of them all, got this really strange look in his eyes. I was the only one watching him, so I was the only one who saw it; but it looked to me like he was seriously considering killing you. And moreover," he said, "once I figured out who you are I went to the Transport Station to get to Earth and I saw a co-worker of mine. His name is Thomas Périr, and usually he’s very cheery, but today he was cold, calculating. I’ve never seen him like that before. It was as if he was sent to watch out for me; and if that’s the case, then I’d bet that it was Tristan who sent him. So I don’t know if you’re in danger, but I have this gut feeling that you are." Jeremy paused, looking thoughtful and said, "Do you know what the doors are?"

"A music group," she said.

"No. Do you remember saying something about a door or doors when you were at the hospital?"

"Yes," she said. "When Maureen died I saw this flash of light and I felt this pain in my head. When I closed my eyes I saw all these doors, hundred of them, maybe thousands. They were all different looking, but I’ve never seen any of them before. Why?"

"When I told Tristan you said that, he got the weirdest look in his eyes. It was after I mentioned that that Jareth mentioned killing you and Tristan got that weird look. I don’t know, maybe those doors mean something, and that’s why Tristan wants to kill you."

Rory felt faint. She zigzagged her way out of the kitchen and sank onto the couch. "Someone wants me dead," she said. "I’ve never done anything to hurt anyone in my life. I’m a good person." She grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest, "What have I done, Jeremy? Why is this happening to me?"

"I don’t know," Jeremy said, staring into Rory’s angry blue eyes. "Tristan shouldn’t have reacted like that. I don’t know what is going on in his mind; or why he would want you dead." Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and said, "For all I know, he doesn’t want you dead."

Rory rested her chin in her hands. She didn’t know what to do or what to think. There was no way she could defend herself if this Tristan creature came to kill her. Jeremy had already said that Death Bringers couldn’t be killed or hurt. The only way, she could see, of defending herself was to rely on Jeremy. She hated relying on people. It made her feel weak and helpless, like a girly-girl. It was a feeling she’d tried to get rid of all her life. And now she was weak. She knew she was. What could she do against immortals? Creatures that’d been around since the dawning of time wouldn’t be easily defeated by a twenty-seven year old mortal woman.

"What can we…," she said and paused. She sucked in a breath and said, "What can you do?"

Jeremy shrugged and sat down next to her. "As I see it, there’s not much we can do. Together we’re nearly powerless. You can’t do much, if any, damage to the Dark…to my bosses; and I can’t do much of anything either. They’re much more powerful than I am." He looked at her and sighed, "The only thing I can think of that we can do is to ask for help from one of the other beings."

Rory reached out and brushed a wayward strand of hair off his forehead. "Why the long face? Is it bad to ask for help when we need it?"

"It is if you’re from my world."

"Why?" Rory said, throwing up her hands. "Why can’t we ask for help? We clearly need it."

Jeremy jumped up and started pacing. "It’s not as easy as simply asking for help, Rory. In my world there a two sides to everything. There’s the good and the evil. I’m from a neutral place; I cannot seek help from one without seeking help from the other. If I ask for help from the good side, then I must also ask for help from the evil side."

"Why?" Rory asked. "If you want to save me, then that’s a good thing, right? Why can’t you just ask the good side for help?"

"Because I’m from a place neither good nor bad, I cannot show support to one side. It could start a war. And, well, the last war nearly destroyed everything. We couldn’t have it happening again."

"Okay," Rory said. "How bad are we talking about when we say evil side?"

"The Demons enjoy chaos. They laugh at murder and crave destruction. I don’t think you want to work with them."

"I’m not sure I do either," Rory said. "But, if we did ask for help, would we be able to trust them? Would they actually help us, or would they try to kill me too?"

"I don’t know. I’ve never actually worked with them, they usually only work with my bosses." He paused then said, "If it’s any consolation, the Guardians are the exact opposite. They’re so good they glow."

Rory laughed. "They glow?"

Jeremy nodded and sat down. He ran a long-fingered hand through Rory’s blond hair and said, "Yes, they glow."

Rory stared at Jeremy, his face only inches from hers. His eyes were deep and dark. And the gray in them seemed to almost shine like silver. It was a beautiful moment and it was the most intimate she’d ever felt with someone. Staring into each other’s eyes at such a close distance made it seem like they could look into each other’s hearts; see right into each others souls.

Rory blinked and broke the moment. She scooted a couple of inches away from Jeremy and said, "So, we’ve assessed that we need help, but that it’s going to be hard to get. And once we get it, we don’t know what the help will do. Is that all?"

Jeremy sighed and said, "Yes. But the hardest part isn’t going to be what the potential help will do. The hardest is getting help to begin with." He raked a hand through his hair. "I don’t even know how to go about contacting the Guardians or the Demons, much less how to ask them for help once I’ve contacted them."

"The problems never end, do they?" Rory said.

"No," said Jeremy. "Even my un-life is full of problems; I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be human."

"So, what should we do?" Rory said. "Should we get help from these other beings; or should we wait and see whether or not your hunch pans out." Rory cracked her knuckles and said, "Personally, I’m all up for getting some help and kicking some butt. But I’d understand if you’d want to wait it out; after all, these people all your bosses, you should be able to trust that they’ll do the right thing."

Jeremy stood up and stretched up towards the ceiling. "But here’s the thing Rory," he said. "I don’t trust them. Well, I don’t trust Tristan. The rest have done nothing to cause me to distrust them; but that look Tristan had in his eyes was evil. I have a gut feeling that he wants you dead. I don’t know why he would want to kill you, but something tells me that he does. So I’m going to try and find a way to get some help. I’m not sure how I’ll do it, but somehow I’ll get in touch with a Guardian and a Demon, after that we’ll figure out the next step."

Rory stood up and faced him. "You mean you’re leaving?" she said.

Jeremy nodded.

Rory looked down at her feet, losing her bravado, and said, "But I don’t want you to go."

Rory continued to stare at her feet until she felt a hand clasp her chin and force it up. She met Jeremy’s eyes and she felt a shiver race down her spine.

"Nothing is going to happen to you," he said. "I promise that nothing will happen to you while I’m gone."

"How can you promise that?" Rory said.

"Because," Jeremy said, "they don’t know where you are yet. Death Bringers travel to and from Earth in elevators; and the only way to use an elevator is to know the name of the person you’re going to see and their location. And they don’t know your name yet." He paused and grinned. "I didn’t even know your name until I had that dream."

Rory smiled at him and said, "You’re so certain. I guess I’ll have to believe you." Rory hesitated a moment then grinned and said, "By the way, what exactly happened in this dream of yours?"

He turned away from her and said, "You don’t want to know."

The grin left her face and she said, "Did something bad happen?"

Jeremy turned back to her and his eyes looked hollow, haunted. He sucked in a breath and then said, "Someone was chasing you. You were screaming and tripping over yourself. You were so scared. Whoever was chasing you backed you into a wall, and you were crying and begging to be let go. The person was laughing the whole time. And he said you were the key to his plans, to everything, whatever that means." Jeremy lifted a trembling hand and pushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead. "I’ve never been so scared in my entire existence." He looked over and her and said, "I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever. I will protect you. I can promise you that."

Rory’s heart felt like it stopped beating. She froze and for one instant everything stopped, and then she fell into his arms. She fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled herself as close to him as she could. She wrapped herself around him and breathed in his scent. He smelled warm, musky, all male and completely new. His body was warm and even though she could feel his trembling she took a deep comfort in the fact that he was willing to protect her; that he was talking to her and consoling her. She sunk into his warmth and before she knew it she felt herself drifting to sleep.

"Rory," Jeremy said, shaking her shoulders. "Rory are you awake?"

"What?" she said. "Sorry Jeremy, I’m just so tired all of a sudden. What time is it?"

She felt Jeremy shift around, looking for a clock, and then he said, "It’s about one."
"Oh," Rory said and yawned. "Sorry, it’s been a very long day."

"It’s alright," Jeremy said. "I ought to let you sleep. Who knows what we’ll be facing in the future, it’s good to rest while you can. So I’ll just…," Jeremy lifted her into his arms, "take you back to bed." He grinned down at her and she felt herself blush.

She wrapped her arms around his neck; and he strode down the hall and into her bedroom. He sat her gently down on the bed and she crawled under the covers.

Jeremy looked around and said, "So, you like to read."

Rory glanced over at her book self, which was piled high with books and smiled, "That’s a bit of and understatement."

"Sorry, making conversation."

She laughed and said, "I can tell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so uncomfortable being in my bedroom."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow and said, "So, you’ve had a lot of people in your bedroom?"

Rory blushed and said, "Uh, that didn’t come out right."

Jeremy laughed and said, "I’ll let you get some sleep. I promise to come back soon with news; for now, get some rest."

"Alright," she said and snuggled into her comforter. She felt her eyes start to droop and she said, "Goodnight Jeremy, see you soon."

She felt the bed sag a little as he sat down, and she felt his lips brush her forehead. Then the weight was gone.

She heard him say, "Sweet dreams," then she fell into the darkness of sleep.

Jeremy smiled as he watched Rory fall asleep. She was so adorable. Her baggy, green and crème flannel pajamas matched the colors of her comforter. Her blond hair hung in a halo around her peacefully sleeping face. He heard her sigh and saw her bury even deeper under the blankets.

He chuckled and walked out of her room towards his elevator. He paused by the kitchen. The tub of ice-cream was still melting on the counter. He laughed again and put it back in the freezer, where it belonged, before stepping into the elevator.

The door whooshed shut and Jeremy leaned against the wall. It was going to seem suspicious that he had been gone for so long. Most jobs never took this long. The only time they did was when a compassionate Death Bringer let a family member or friend, who happened to be with the dying person, get a chance to say goodbye. But even then, jobs didn’t take more than a half an hour; and he’d been with Rory for at least an hour, maybe more.

Jeremy sighed. He’d just have to deal with the consequences. It was his fault really. He should have been paying closer attention to the time; then he could have gotten back in a reasonable amount of time. But being with Rory had made him forget about being safe. She had made him forget about time restriction. If it hadn’t been necessary to tell her, he probably would have forgotten that she was in danger. She was just so bright and beautiful and real.

The door dinged and opened to the Transport Station. Jeremy stepped out cautiously; waiting for someone to pounce on him, asking why he’d been away for so long. But the only thing that awaited him was the usual hustle and bustle. There were no messengers waiting to take him to Tristan and the other Dark Angels. There was no Thomas Périr leaning against a wall waiting to take him away. It was normal. No one seemed to have noticed that he had been gone an unusually long amount of time.

He shrugged and headed out of the noisy building and towards his own, quiet home. If no one cared that he had been gone so long, so much the better for him. If he could go unnoticed to and from Earth then he could keep Rory safe, and he could figure out how to stop Tristan.

He opened his door, kicked off his boots, and fell onto the couch. For once he wasn’t tired. He needed to figure out how to contact a Guardian and a Demon. Other than the Dark Angels, the only people of Limbo who contacted the other beings were the messengers. And as far as Jeremy knew, neither could be trusted.

But he needed to find a way to get past them both. He stared blankly at the wall. No matter what he did, he’d have to pull it off perfectly. Punishment in the Other Worlds was not taken lightly. And knowing that there were people who wanted to hurt Rory was going to make things that much harder. They’d be watching him, waiting for him to do something.

He groaned and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. Asking the messengers for help would do him no good. They would tell the Dark Angels, and Tristan, what he wanted help for. He couldn’t go to the Dark Angels. The only ones he thought he might be able to trust were Krysta and Jakson; but even they would have to go to Tristan. They wouldn’t be able to keep secrets. Plus, they’d want to confirm for themselves whether or not Tristan was planning on breaking the laws of Limbo. They’d want to know if he wanted to kill Rory. And since all Jeremy had to go on was one look and a hunch, he had a feeling that they wouldn’t believe him.

So whatever he ended up doing he’d have to do it on his own; which would make things harder, but would hopefully draw less attention. He flipped through a couple different ideas, rejecting them all. The only ideas he was coming up with involved other people.

He stood up and paced for a minute before grabbing a discarded book off a shelf. Maybe if he kept his conscious mind doing something else, his subconscious could come up with some sort of brilliant idea.

A few of hours later Jeremy had read through two books, paced, and punched a wall; but he had finally come up with an idea. It was a shaky idea, most likely something would go wrong, but it was something he could do on his own.

His not so brilliant idea was to simply lie to the messengers. He could say that he had just come from seeing the Dark Angels, an impromptu meeting that hadn’t needed the help of the messengers, and that the Dark Angels had told him to make contact with a correspondent from both Elysian and Hades. He wasn’t sure if they would believe him; and they could always go to the Dark Angels to see if his story was true. But they shouldn’t have any reason to disbelieve him either. He’d had a meeting not too long ago with the Dark Angels about Rory; so they should believe him if he said he was sent to meet with a Guardian and a Demon about the human business. Hopefully it would work; otherwise he was in a lot of trouble.

Before he took off to see if his plan would succeed he decided to get some sleep. All the thinking and rejecting of ideas had given him a headache. His eyes were hurting from reading so much in such a short amount of time. And his whole body was tense with worry for Rory. He needed sleep. His plan required more detailed planning and a very cautious use of language. He needed the rest to restore his energy and to let his mind defog. After he slept he could put the final touches on his plan and set it into action. In a few hours he could be on his way to saving Rory. But until then, he needed to sleep.

Rory dreamed about doorways and tunnels. She dreamt of creatures she’s never seen or heard of, mystical creatures, some beautiful, others terrifying. She’d dreamed of places full of trees, places underwater, places where the sky was purple or green or pink. She’d dreamt of places full of fire and ash, of glittering gold. She’d gotten to all these places through a door.

When she woke up it was to sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. She glanced at the Donald Duck alarm clock next to her bed. It was nine in the morning; she’d been asleep for eight hours. She grinned, sleeping for eight hours felt great.

She got out of bed and stretched and glanced at her night stand and saw a picture of her and Maureen and she felt the smile slide off her face. For a blessed ten hours she’d been able to forget that her sister had died. For ten hours she’d been able to forget that she’d met a Death Bringer and that someone other worldly wanted to kill her. She’d been warm and cared for and safe. Now she was back in the real world and her problems were staring her in the face, and more sleep wouldn’t help them.

Rory wandered down the hall and into the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled and she poured herself a bowl of Lucky Charms, her favorite cereal. She took the bowl over to the table and sat down, staring into it. She always ate the marshmallows in a certain order; first the horse shoes, then the stars, hearts, red balloons, blue moons, pots of gold, clovers, and rainbows, then she ate the cereal. There wasn’t any particular reason for the order, just that she’d been doing it since she was a kid. Maureen had always eaten the cereal first; then she ate the marshmallows in order of her least favorite to her favorite. Rory smiled, remembering mornings sitting at home eating Lucky Charms with her sister and arguing over which marshmallow was the best.

She finished up her cereal and dumped the milk in the sink. She grabbed a glass and opened the freezer to get some ice. Sitting inside the freezer was a very soggy looking carton of strawberry cheesecake ice-cream. Rory looked over at the counter and saw some melted ice-cream sitting in a puddle. She looked back at the carton in the freezer and smiled. Jeremy. He’d told her he’d protect her, carried her to bed and tucked her in, and then he’d cleaned up after her by putting her melted ice-cream away. For being a tall, dark, and intimidating Grim Reaper, he sure was a softie.

Rory filled her glass with ice and water and went into the living room and plopped down on the couch; it was time to figure out what to do. Maureen would be cremated, she decided. Rory knew that her sister wouldn’t have wanted an open casket; by the end Maureen had looked thin and worn and sick, not at all like her normal cheery self. Rory sighed; she should have a memorial service too, with only a few close friends and co-workers of Maureen’s. She also had to write an obituary and send it into the paper. Rory ran a hand though her messy hair and grabbed the phone from its cradle and dialed the number for Dillman’s Funeral Home.

Twenty minutes later she hung up. Dillman’s would cremate Maureen; and she’d have a small memorial service for her four days from now, Saturday, at ten in the morning.

She nabbed a pad of paper and pen from the table next to the couch. Next on her mental list was writing the obituary because it needed to be in sooner rather than later if she wanted it to be published before Saturday.

She sighed and started jotting down notes. Maureen’s date of birth and date of death; where and when the memorial would be held. She sniffled and wrote down the names of her parents as the people who preceded Maureen in death. She wrote down her own name as that of the sole survivor. She tapped her pencil against the pad of paper and then scribbled down where Maureen went to college, University of Iowa, and where she worked, as a manager of the small local bookstore, Book World.

Forty minutes later she had the obituary written; and she had called the newspaper to tell them what to put in the obituary. And she was now ready to start making a list of people to call. She leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes. Images of Maureen and Jeremy raced through her brain. Someone to talk to would make this so much easier. She let herself relax, just thinking, for a moment more before snapping her eyes open and leaning over her pad of paper. When she got this done she could relax, until then she’d just have to keep on trucking.

Jeremy tugged on his boots and strode out the door. He’d been asleep for seven hours, and now he felt refreshed and a little more confident about his abilities to get past the messengers. He grinned, and some of his fellow Death Bringers paused to stare. He felt really good. Physically, anyway. He still felt guilty because he’d somehow brought Rory into his world and now she was in danger. And now that he knew her, he felt even worse about taking her sister’s life. But, other than the ever pressing guilt weighing him down, he felt great. He hadn’t had more than five or six hours of sleep in a very long time.

Jeremy paused in mid stride. It was really strange that he had gotten that much sleep. Usually he had jobs coming to him left and right. He hated his job; but he was very quick and efficient with it, and that usually led to him getting more jobs than most of his colleagues. It was rather strange that he hadn’t gotten a job during any of the time that he’d been back in Limbo. He’d been up and planning for several hours before he’d gone to sleep and he hadn’t gotten a job then. And then he’d slept for seven hours, and he still hadn’t gotten a job. Jeremy couldn’t think of a time in his life when he went more than seven hours without receiving an annoying little memo telling him he had to go down to Earth and kill someone.

So someone had to be making sure that he wouldn’t get any jobs. Someone wanted him to stay in Limbo and not go to Earth. Tristan, it had to be Tristan. Although why Tristan would want him to stay in Limbo instead of visiting Rory was a mystery. Tristan would have a better chance of finding out who Rory was and where she was if Jeremy kept going to Earth to visit her. It didn’t make sense for Tristan to keep him here.

Jeremy shrugged, if Tristan wanted him to stay in Limbo that was fine. It would give Jeremy a lot of uninterrupted time to plan how to keep Rory safe. And to Jeremy that was all that mattered. Of course, now he had a slight hitch in his plans to get to Elysian and Hades. If the messengers knew that Tristan didn’t want him to leave Limbo, then they might not buy his story and they might not let him go to the other worlds. Hopefully they’d let him pass and not think anything of it. If they did stop him, or if they reported to Tristan, he didn’t know what he’d do. For now he’d just have to hope for the best.

He started walking again, heading towards the Post Office. The building had a very human name and was very much like the human building it was named for. It was long and low and filled with hundreds of pieces of paper and people. It was always crowded and noisy and full of chaos. The messengers got even less sleep than the Death Bringers. They were constantly receiving and sending memos, checking and rechecking letters, rushing about relaying personal messages, and attending to the Dark Angels’ needs.

The messengers of Limbo were other beings that had been demoted for one reason or another. Their job was to arrange and relay messages to whomever the message was addressed to. The creatures of Elysian and Hades hardly ever interacted with each other; the messengers were the liaisons between the other worlds.

It would seem that their job would be exciting; they got to deal with Guardians and Demons. Sometimes they even got to work with Elementals or Devils. But they were treated like nothing, like vermin. They had become messengers as a form of punishment. They received so much work that they hardly had time to sleep, much less enjoy working with exotic beings. Instead they went through the days in a sort of haze.

This would actually be good for Jeremy. Hopefully the messengers would be so tired that they wouldn’t question his request to visit Elysian and Hades. Hopefully they’d let him go without question. Jeremy groaned. He hated how half of his plan relied on hopes and wishes. Hopes and wishes weren’t guarantees; they would get him nowhere. But still, they were all he had.

The Post Office came into sight, its long, skinny frame sitting alone at the edge of Limbo. The gray of the walls matched the gray grass that surrounded it. The front door was tall and wide, allowing the continuous stream of people enough room to get in and out. Jeremy walked up to it, getting shoved left and right by Death Bringers and messengers. He growled, a sound that rumbled low in his throat; and a few of the Death Bringers around him moved away, but there was too much noise for more than a few to hear him.

He grunted and crossed his arms, trying to make himself smaller so that he could avoid touching people; but all it did was cause people to shove closer to him. After a few minutes Jeremy managed to make it into the building. He moved with the flow of Death Bringers and messengers to the service desk. After waiting in line for several minutes he reached an open clerk.

"How may I help you today sir?" the dull voice of the female messenger said. The woman’s hair was a drab brown and her eyes were a glazed over gray. She stood, hunched over, at the counter and stared blankly past him. It was as if she couldn’t see him, as if she were a machine programmed to ask questions but not to feel.

"I’d like to request a visit to Elysian and Hades," Jeremy said, not a note of hesitation in his voice.

"Who authorized your trip?" she said.

"Tristan," Jeremy said.

"Can I see a letter of authorization?"

This was where Jeremy hoped her blank stare and sleepy attitude would pay off. "Tristan didn’t give me a letter," he said. "He just told me to tell a messenger that I am to go to Elysian and Hades to consult a Guardian and a Demon about what to do about the human who saw me." Jeremy sucked in a breath and waited.

The messenger stared at him, her dull gray eyes focusing on him before she shrugged and reached for a form. She scribbled in some of the blanks and turned it to face him. "Sign here and here please," she said pointing to two blank lines.

Jeremy leaned over the counter and signed in the spaces. The woman turned the form back towards her, stamped a red seal on the corner and put it in a bin next to her.

"These are for you," the woman said, bending down and pulling out two badges from under the desk. "These will give you access to Elysian and Hades. Just enter the number on them into one of the elevators in the Transport Station and it will take you to whichever place you want to go. The badge itself will let the people of Elysian and Hades know that you’re supposed to be there. Is there anything else you need?"

Jeremy shook his head.

"Then have a nice day," she said and pushed the badges towards him. "Next please."

Jeremy scooped the badges up and pushed his way out of the Post Office. He stared at the badges in his hands. They were black and laminated and said in large, light gray letters, "visitor." He stared at them until the letters blurred. He couldn’t believe how easy that had been; the messengers hadn’t even questioned him. It seemed strange that they were so willing to let him go without proven authorization, but he didn’t care. All that mattered to him now was that he was one step closer to saving Rory.

He took off down the path that would led to the Transport Station and tried to decide where he should go first. Hades was known for its cruelty. There was a good chance that if he went there by himself, he would get hurt. Demons weren’t afraid of playing with their visitors, and their games involved claws and teeth. And while he couldn’t die, he could be hurt.

If he went to Elysian first he would be able to get assistance from a Guardian and then he’d have backup for when he made the trip to Hades. If he had a Guardian with him the Demons, most likely, wouldn’t try to attack him. If they attacked a Guardian, a war could break out.

Jeremy had been born after the last war between Hades and Elysian. The war was hardly ever spoken of, so Jeremy didn’t know very much about it, but he knew that the war had almost been the undoing of everything that existed, and ever since that war ended, there was a pact between Hades and Elysian to never fight. If a Demon and a Guardian had a disagreement, they were to go to their higher-ups to ask for a way to solve the problem. It kept the balance.

Jeremy looked up and realized that while he’d been thinking, he’d reached the Transport Station. He stopped and darted off the sidewalk and under a gray tree. Standing next to the door his arms crossed, looking very much like a watch dog, was Thomas. Jeremy looked around; there was no way he would be able to get by Thomas without being seen. He was sure that if Thomas saw him going somewhere, he’d report it to Tristan. Tristan couldn’t know that Jeremy was leaving Limbo. The only way he’d be able to protect Rory was if Tristan didn’t find out about any of his plans. And Tristan could not know that Jeremy was going to Hades and Elysian. Not only Tristan had been against asking the other beings for help, all the Dark Angels had been. So, really, if any of them found out that he was going to the other worlds to ask for help, he’d be in a lot of trouble.

He sighed and looked around again. Thomas would probably be stationed there for awhile, and Jeremy couldn’t wait; he needed to get out of Limbo now. Jeremy heard voices and turned around and glanced up the sidewalk. Approaching him was a group of Death Bringers. They were laughing and jostling each other and they made a perfect cover. When they passed his tree, he slipped out and joined their group. He laughed out loud at their jokes, pretending to be with them, and when he reached the door, Thomas didn’t even look at him. He smirked to himself and peeled away from the group. The first major obstacle has passed; now he just needed to convince a Guardian and a Demon to help him protect Rory and he’d be set.

He found an empty elevator and punched in the number on his badge. The automated voice confirmed his destination and took off. It dinged and opened when he reached Elysian. He stepped out and sucked in a breath. It was beautiful. Buttery sunlight washed over everything. The soft sound of flutes and violins filtered in from nowhere. A stone filled stream wound past Jeremy’s feet and into a forest. He could hear laughter in the distance. A soft, pink petal from some unknown flower floated down and landed on Jeremy’s shoulder. A slight wind picked up and before him appeared a Guardian.

The Guardians were the lowest beings on the hierarchy of Elysian. They were what humans thought of as Guardian Angels. They watched over the beings of Earth and tried to lead them to goodness. Guardians couldn’t directly influence the creatures of Earth; but they could whisper suggestions into ears and hope that the suggestion led the person towards a good decision or path in life.

Looking at them could make anyone, even a cold Death Bringer like Jeremy, feel good. They were usually fair with pale skin, eyes, and hair; they were so pale and pure that they glowed. Huge fluffy, feathery wings sprouted from their backs and the ends of the wings were tipped in silver, gold, or copper of varying shades. When a Guardian smiled, a person couldn’t help but smile back.

This Guardian had blond hair so light it was almost white. It was long, falling to his knees and it was held back in a loose ponytail. His eyes were large and a deep purple; they were surrounded by long thick black lashes. The Guardian’s nose was long and straight and his pink lips were turned up in a smile. And the very tips of his wings were tinted silver and sparkled in the sunlight.

One thin, fair eyebrow quirked up and he said, "You are from Limbo; how may I help you?"

"I need to talk to someone," Jeremy said. "I need to know if I can have help with a problem."

"There’s a problem in Limbo?" he said.

Jeremy grimaced and said, "Yes, but not in the way you’re probably thinking."

The Guardian raised both eyebrows and motioned for him to continue.

"I think this might be easier if we had somewhere to sit; it’s a long story," Jeremy said.

The Guardian nodded and walked towards a grassy field behind Jeremy. "My name is Lucien," he said. "What is yours?"

"Jeremy. Jeremy Mourir."

Lucien nodded and led Jeremy over to a semi-circle of smooth stones; he lowered himself onto on and waved at hand at Jeremy and then at another stone. "Please, Jeremy, have a seat."

Once Jeremy had lowered himself onto one of the smooth, surprisingly warm, stones, Lucien turned and said, "Now tell me of this problem."

Jeremy sighed and explained the situation. He told Lucien about Rory and Thomas; and about Tristan and the look he’d seen in Tristan’s eyes, and about the doors that Rory had seen. The whole time Lucien sat with his chin in his hand and stared at him; his purple eyes got darker and darker with worry, and only when Jeremy mention the doors did they narrow in confusion.

When Jeremy finished, Lucien sat up and said, "Before I ask you anything else, can you tell me a little more about these doors that you Rory has seen? I feel like I know something about them, but I can’t remember."

"All I know is what she told me," Jeremy said, scratching his head. "She said that she saw hundreds of doors that all looked different and that she’d never seen any of them before. She didn’t tell me more than that."

Lucien nodded and said, "It’s probably nothing, but this is not a good situation. Now, I need to know this, do you have any actual proof of this treachery?"

Jeremy shook his head and said, "No, I don’t have any real proof. As you heard; the only thing I have to go on is my gut intuition. I know what I saw in Tristan’s eyes, I’ve seen the strange way that Thomas has been acting, Rory told me about the dream she had about how I promised to protect her, and I remember the dream I had about her." Jeremy paused and clutched at his chest. "I remember that terrible feeling I woke up with, knowing that she was in trouble and that I wasn’t there to help her. That’s all I have." Jeremy shrugged and looked at Lucien. He wasn’t sure whether or not Lucien believed him; but he hoped he did, because if he couldn’t convince a Guardian, he couldn’t convince anyone.

"I understand," Lucien said, smiling at him. "Intuition or gut feeling often helps those in my profession, and I’m sure it helps you in yours." Lucien leaned forward and rested his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. "I believe you," he said.

Jeremy sighed and said, "Thank you. I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that. Now, here comes the big part. I need to know if you’ll help me."

"Help you with what exactly?"

"Help with everything. Tristan needs to be stopped. I don’t know what he’s planning to do, but it can’t be good. If he was only a messenger or a Death Bringer it wouldn’t be a problem; but he’s a Dark Angel. He’s the leader of the Dark Angels. He governs the people of Limbo. He has power and influence. He cannot kill a human. If he did, all other Death Bringers and Dark Angels would think that they could kill people. And that’s not what we do. We aren’t supposed to kill needlessly; we’re only supposed to help mortal souls go to Judgment. If we’re allowed to kill for want instead of necessity, then we’re no better than the creatures of Hades."

Lucien smiled and said, "And Rory? What about her?"

Jeremy felt his face soften and he smiled and said, "I want her safe. More than anything I want her to be protected."

Lucien’s smile widened and he said, "Why? Why is she so important to you?"

Jeremy noticed Lucien’s smile and frowned. "Why do you need to know that?"

Lucien covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. "I’m sorry if it seems like I’m prying into your personal life, I don’t mean to. I’m just wondering if you want to protect her out of a sense of duty, or if there’s more to it than that."

"Does it make a difference? If I’m protecting her out of duty, isn’t that the same as if I were protecting her for some other reason?"

Lucien looked surprised. He shook his head once and said, "No, they aren’t the same thing. Both are good reasons for protecting a person, but the second is always the nobler of the two. If you were to have feelings for this woman, any sort of feelings, you would be protecting her for her sake and for yours because you want to. Having feelings and acting on them shows compassion. It shows a need for something other than a job and a place to sleep. It shows that you aren’t just a mindless machine, that you are capable of feeling."

Jeremy rubbed his neck and thought. He knew he had feelings for Rory. He wasn’t entirely sure what those feelings were, because he’d never felt for anyone before. He knew he needed to protect her; it wasn’t something he wanted, it was something he craved, something deep inside him that was screaming for him to keep her safe. He knew that he liked her. She made him smile and laugh. He loved that she liked to read, that all the furniture in her apartment matched, that she left the ice-cream out to melt and that she wore baggy, comfortable pajamas to bed. He smiled, thinking about how she was always playing with her hair and how she clung to him when she thought of her sister. He liked everything about her and he wanted to protect her because he liked everything about her. Yes, he was worried about everything Tristan threatened to bring about, but more than anything he was worried about Rory and her safety.

Jeremy was knocked out of his train of thought when Lucien said, "Never mind, you don’t need to tell me why you want to protect Rory."

"Why don’t you want to know?" Jeremy said. "You seemed so curious before."

"I don’t need you to tell me because the smile on your face just now told me all I needed to know." He grinned, "And because of that smile I’ve decided to help you."

Rory sighed and put the phone back in its cradle. She’d just finished calling Maureen’s boss, Kasey Hatchet, at Book World to let her know about Maureen’s death and when the services would be held. Kasey had been the last on the list of people Rory had to call to tell about the death and arrangements for her sister.

She felt a dull throbbing in her head and she put a hand to her forehead in a weak attempt to stop the pain. Calling people had been more tiring than she had thought. Handling other people’s emotions and words of remorse when she could barely handle her own had wiped her out. All Rory wanted to do now was sleep, but she knew she couldn’t, not yet anyway. She still had to order flowers for the memorial, she had to write a eulogy, she had to pick out an urn for her sister, and as sad as it was, she had to go buy an outfit to wear to the memorial. The outfit and the eulogy could wait awhile, the memorial wasn’t for a few days, but the sooner she ordered the flowers and picked out an urn the better.

She groaned and ran her hands through her messy hair before standing up and heading towards the bathroom to shower and take some ibuprofen to stop the headache. After she was clean she’d go to the flower shop and find some place that sold urns, and maybe while she was out she’d pick up her new outfit, one that Rory was sure she’d never wear after the memorial. She detoured to her room to grab some clean underclothes and then padded, barefoot, to the bathroom. She planned on spending as much time as possible washing away the pain of the last two days before heading out and adding some new wounds to the ones that were already bleeding.

Jeremy waited patiently by the rocks for Lucien to come back from reporting to the Elementals, his direct superiors. Although Jeremy was anxious to get going, he knew that in order for Lucien to do anything he’d need permission from the Elementals. The Guardian could promise to help him all he wanted, but one of the five Elementals would realize that he was missing sooner or later.

The five Elementals, Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, and Light, controlled the elements on Earth. They were also Dieu’s, or God’s, direct subordinates. They worked solely for him, did his bidding, and worked with Lucifer and his Devils when need be. They were also to be informed of any unscheduled or personal trips to Earth, Hades, or Limbo, which was why Lucien had gone off to find one.

Jeremy sighed and looked towards the distant elevator. He hoped Lucien would come back soon. He had no idea how much time he’d have to get help and form a plan to help Rory. For all he knew, Tristan had already figured out who and where she was.

He looked down at the ground. Rory was a sweet person, better than anyone he’d ever met. She didn’t deserve whatever Tristan was planning. Jeremy felt a smile tug at his lips. He couldn’t wait to see her again. She’d made is dull, gray world colorful. She’d made him laugh, she’d made him smile, but most importantly, she’d made him care, and now he’d do anything to make sure that the one who’d made him feel would be protected.

He was about to start pacing when Lucien appeared in front of him.

Lucien grinned and said, "I have permission to go with you. I was lucky, and the first Elemental I found was Fuoco, Fire. He’s very righteous, so he immediately allowed me to help you. Normally, whichever Elemental I found would have to have a conference with the others before giving me permission; but I just happened to find the one who’d rather I right the wrong before dealing with technicalities."

"So, we’re good. We can go now, right?"

Lucien laughed and said, "Yes, we can go now. Fuoco will speak with the other Elementals and fill them in about the situation, while we work to fix the situation."

"Good, let’s go," Jeremy said. He led Lucien towards the elevator. He sighed and tried to enjoy the warm breeze and gentle pipe music while he could. He knew that soon he would be in the sooty blackness of Hades; and that there would be nothing there to make him feel at ease.

They were a few feet in front of the elevator when Jeremy felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and faced Lucien, who had a pained look on his face.

"Jeremy," Lucien said. "Where are we going? Are we going to see your Rory?"

Jeremy flinched when Lucien said that Rory was his Rory, and then he shook his head and said, "No, we’re not going to Earth to see Rory, yet. You know as well as I do that we have to go to Hades to talk to a Demon next."

Lucien sighed and watched a rose petal drifting in the wind. "No," he said. "I knew we had to go to Hades." He shuddered and said, "But I had hoped that you would try and get around that rule." He looked into Jeremy’s eyes. "You have to know that a Demon won’t want to help us. You must know that the creatures of Hades have contempt for most of the human race, and that trying to save one from death won’t appeal to them."

Jeremy nodded and said, "I do know that." He grinned. "But I have to try. I have to try to save Rory, and if convincing a Demon to help is what it takes then I’m willing to try."

Lucien grinned and said, "I’m glad you’re so confident, because I’m so scared of going there that I’m shaking." Lucien lifted his hand and Jeremy could see a slight tremor shaking it. Jeremy opened his mouth to tell Lucien not to worry, but Lucien cut him off and said, "Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. They won’t hurt me, and I have your confidence to help me out." His smile widened. "I just thought I’d tell you that I’ve never been this scared in my entire existence."

Jeremy laughed and said, "You sure are cheerful, for being completely terrified that is."

Lucien waved his hand at Jeremy, stepped towards the elevator and said, "I know. It’s a wonderful coping mechanism. Act happy to cover the fact that you’re so scared you could cry." He reached the elevator and smacked the button to open the door. He motioned for Jeremy to step in and said, "Shall we?"

The next time the elevator doors opened it wasn’t to the buttery sunshine of Elysian or to the dull gray of Limbo; it was to a near pitch blackness. Jeremy and Lucien stepped out and looked around. The only light in the inky blackness was a dark crimson glow that seemed to come from the ground itself; and a pearly light came from Lucien too.

The combined light of Lucien and Hades showed craggy rocks and dried up, dead shrubs all around them. They took a few more steps into the darkness. Jeremy scrunched up his eyes and tried to see if anyone was nearby.

"How do we know if anyone’s out there?" Jeremy asked.

"You’ll know. Trust me, you’ll know."

"You should trust him, you know," a male voice said from the darkness. "You’ll definitely know when one of the Demons has found you."

Jeremy whirled around and faced the direction he thought the voice was coming from. Out of the shadows stepped a Demon. His large, leathery wings were folded against his back. Black pants and a black shirt were molded against his tall, lithe frame. The Demon ran a hand through his spiky black hair and down his face. His skin was a red so dark it was almost as black as his clothes.

He strolled up to Lucien and grabbed his chin in his hand, forcing it up to meet his eyes. "Why, if it isn’t Lucien, my favorite little Guardian, what brings you and the Death Bringer to Hades?"

Lucien jerked his chin out of the Demon’s hand. "What do you want, Sabriel?"

"That should be my question; after all, you came to my home. What are you doing here?"

Jeremy watched the two of them. Lucien clearly didn’t like Sabriel, but he wasn’t so sure that the sentiment worked both ways. From the way Sabriel was treating Lucien, he had a feeling that Sabriel actually rather liked him.

Jeremy heard Sabriel ask Lucien, again, why he was here and Jeremy stepped forward. "He’s with me," Jeremy said.

Sabriel stepped away from Lucien and turned to him. "Oh, he is, is he? And why are you here, Death Bringer?"

Jeremy nodded at Lucien and said, "We’re here to ask for your help."
Sabriel quirked an eyebrow and bared his teeth, the canines were pointed into fangs. "Oh, really," he said.

"I need your help, there’s a problem in Limbo and…."

"Why should I care?" Sabriel said. "This is Hades; the problems in Limbo should be solved by those in Limbo. I don’t see how I can help."

"You could try hearing him out before making a judgment, Sabriel," Lucien said.

"You’re one to talk, Lucien. You judged me before I even got a chance to prove myself to you."

"You’re a Demon; you don’t need to prove anything to me. I know how your kind is; I don’t need to know anymore."

"As fascinating as this all is," Jeremy interrupted. "I really don’t have much time; you two can bicker once I’m done telling you the problem."

"Fine," Sabriel growled, crossing his arms across his chest. "Tell me of Limbo’s little problem."

When Jeremy finished explaining the situation, Sabriel turned to Lucien and said, "The Elementals let you help this guy? He doesn’t even have any evidence to go on; all he’s got is some little look on Tristan’s face."

"Look," Jeremy said. "I realize there’s not that much to go on, but I know what’s in my gut, and I know that Rory’s in trouble. I don’t trust Tristan. You didn’t see the face me made, there was pure malice there. I could see it, he wants to hurt her; and I can’t let that happen."

Sabriel raised a brow and walked over to him, coming within an inch of Jeremy’s face. "You really believe all this? Everything? You’re honestly willing to go against Tristan, the highest of the Dark Angels to save this little human of yours?"

"Yes," Jeremy said. "I’d do anything to save her."

Sabriel hovered in front of Jeremy’s face a moment more before nodding. "Alright, let me track down a Devil and get permission to help you on your little crusade."

"You’re going to help?" Lucien said. "Why?"

Sabriel grinned and walked over to him, brushing a clawed hand through Lucien’s hair. "Because, I admire a man willing to do anything to get what he wants." The grin slipped from his face as he stared into Lucien’s eyes. "I know how he feels."

Lucien flinched and stepped away. Sabriel narrowed his eyes and said, "I’ll be back soon."