Death is a Girl

Chapter 21: People Watching

They spent the morning and afternoon reaping souls, and with the faster pace at which they worked through the two lists, Morrigan found herself falling into an odd sort of rhythm. Sometimes, Death would stop and talk to the souls he reaped; other times, he would walk up behind them, swing his scythe, and then return to the car without a word.

As for Morrigan, only when her clients (as she was learning to call them) were unconscious would she reap them without saying anything. If they were still alive, or if their soul was wandering around near their body, she wouldn’t feel right about not at least saying a few words.

“Are you feeling hungry yet?” Death asked as they rode through town.

“No, not really.”

“Are you sure? That sandwich this morning was not very much. Please don’t hold yourself back on my account.”

In truth, she was starving, but preferred not to eat right now. Considering she had committed and was an accessory to about ten murders in the last eight hours, something about stopping for a lunch break felt sacrilege.

“No, I’m fine. Who’s next?”

“I believe a name from your list.”

Morrigan reached into her sleeve, where she kept her list rolled up, then unravelled it and read out loud. “Margerette Princhert, age seventy-seven, Bellevue Mall parking lot. 3:47pm.”

“Ah, perfect,” Death said. “Before her reaping, we can have lunch in the food court.”

“We?”

“Well, I’ll just do some people-watching, I suppose.”

Morrigan sighed as she rolled her list up and returned it to her sleeve.

Soon after, Death parked his car near the foodcourt. The mall was bustling with activity; people from all walks of life entered and exited the sanctuary of modern capitalism in their joint endeavour to consume.

Once in the food court, Morrigan split off from Death while he went to find a table. She assessed the many stalls, her stomach rumbling, though she didn’t feel particularly keen on eating a big meal. She eventually chose a small salad and a bottle of water from one of the vendors. As she paid and turned around, she found Death seated at a table in the corner, inconspicuously watching the flow of people around him.

Death had a certain curiosity about him. As he turned his head, observing the unsuspecting shoppers, Morrigan got the sense of how much those empty eye sockets of his were actually taking in, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he looked like he was having fun.

“So, you like watching people, huh?” Morrigan asked as she took a seat.

“Humans are fascinating,” he remarked, turning to face her. “Don’t you think?”

She forked a piece of lettuce into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I guess. I mean, I am one, so it’s not as mysterious for me.”

“Not mysterious—profound,” he said, making a gesture over the crowd. “Collectively, everyone here is only the tiniest sliver of humanity, yet all so unique with their own blends of dreams, wants, morals, and fears.”

Morrigan tried taking in his words, but it was just a crowded mall as far as she was concerned. “You used to be human, right?”

“I believe it to be the case, but I no longer remember my mortality with any clarity.”

“Does that make you sad?”

Death tilted his head, the faintest hint of nostalgia in his empty gaze. “I’m sure I had dreams, loves, and losses like any other. Time, however… is perceived differently when it flows beyond a mortal lifespan. When I took on this role, the vastness of my new existence overshadowed whatever life came before.”

Morrigan took a sip of her water, mulling over his words. “Do you ever feel… I don’t know—left out? Like you wish you could be part of it again?”

“Oh, but I am a part of it!” He leaned forward, and pointed a skeletal finger. “Morrigan, look over there, let me show you. Do you see that couple?”

Morrigan followed where he pointed until she found the pair he was referring to. A boy and a girl in their early twenties sitting at a table together.

“Look at how they move; tense, but eager. The way they smile at each other speaks of a new love, filled with hopes and insecurities.

“And over there, that young woman has lead on the side of her hand. She’s an aspiring artist, but there is doubt in her eyes. She has yet to find herself. She doubts her skill, her vision.”

“You can tell that much just by glancing at someone?”

“Of course. I did it with you, remember?”

Morrigan smirked as she scanned the crowd, deciding to test him. After removing a bite of lettuce from her fork she pointed the utensil. “How about over there—the janitor.”

Death glanced at him for only a moment, then returned his gaze to Morrigan, taking so little time to observe his subject it was almost as if to make a point. “He’s a man who’s struggled greatly, and has made mistakes. He received the tattoo on his arm while he was in prison, his size and demeanor suggest a gang member, perhaps involved in drug dealing. However, he’s turned a new leaf as he has someone to fight for—a child. His job as a janitor may not be luxurious, but he keeps his uniform in impeccable shape—a sign that he’s grateful for his second chance in society.”

“Oh, come on,” Morrigan grinned. “You can’t tell all of that from a glance. You have some reaper power that tells you about people.” Though, as she said that, she took a look at the janitor’s arm, and indeed, there was a faded tattoo peaking from under his sleeve as he tied up a trash bag.

“There is no magic involved. I can teach you to do the same.”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical.

Death’s sockets seemed to gleam as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on the crowd. “Observation and intuition, Morrigan. The secrets are in the details. You just have to know what to look for.” He pointed towards an elderly man sitting alone, fiddling with his watch. “Why don’t you give it a try? Tell me what you see.”

Morrigan shifted her attention to the elderly man. She noted his wrinkled skin, the way his hand shook slightly as he adjusted the watch, and the lone wedding ring on his finger.

She hesitated, then spoke. “Alright… he’s… old, obviously. The way he’s playing with his watch might mean he’s waiting for someone, but looking at his eyes, it seems like he’s been waiting for a long time. The wedding ring but no companion suggests he might have lost someone. Maybe… he’s a widower. His wife died, and he’s lonely.”

She looked back to Death for some hint on how she did. His jaw was cracked as he held up one finger. “No… actually, his wife is here with him. She’s currently using the restroom. They’ve been happily married since their thirties. He’s fiddling with his watch because it’s broken and he is here today to have the jewler take a look at it. Oh, and he’ll be finding out the problem is simply a dead battery.”

Morrigan gave Death a dry expression, then glanced back to the man to see an old woman matching his age approach. They spoke for a moment then walked towards the jewlery store just outside the food court.

Death laughed, far too amused with himself. Morrigan was starting to think Noir was a better co-pilot after all.

“It takes practice,” Death said. “The real trick is to discard your biases from one or two things that stand out, look for the details that are far more subtle.”

Morrigan continued to observe the crowd as she ate her salad, mulling over Death’s words. Then a small voice snapped her attention down to the side of their table.

“Are you a skeleton?” A child, no more than five years old, had wandered up to their table, his eyes wide with curiosity as he looked at Death.

Morrigan glanced around anxiously, suddenly expecting half the mall to start pointing and screaming at the living skeleton she was seated with. However, Death himself was completely unperturbed as he leaned forward, his voice gentle. “Yes, young one, I am.”

The child giggled, completely unafraid. “Cool! Do you know Jack Skellington?”

Death chuckled. “Ah, but of course. Jack and I go way back.”

The child’s laughter rang through the air before his mother hurried over to collect him. “I’m sorry,” she said, casting an apologetic glance their way, though her eyes never quite met Death’s.

“Don’t worry, it’s quite alright,” Death said to her.

“Bye!” the boy called back as his mother whisked him away. Death waved goodbye with his boney hand.

“That boy saw you,” Morrigan said.

“Yes, children are more likely to see through my perception blocking spell. It’s magic relies heavily on allowing people to see what they expect to see, and children’s expectations are not as firmly set as an adult’s.” Death brushed the sleeve of his cloak and stood. “Well then, I do believe it is time. Are you finished?”

Morrigan forked the last scraps of her salad and stuffed it in her mouth as she stood. “Yeah, guess we got a job to do. Right?”

She turned to look for a trash can, her eyes sweeping over the mall, but then she froze, spotting someone. “Crap!” she gasped under her breath and quickly pulled her hood over her head and sat back down.

She had just spotted some of her classmates, ironically, the very ones who had expected to see her at the party she never made it to as she instead spent the night as a corpse laying on the cold floor of a crypt.

She cautiously peeked over her shoulder, past her hood, to see Emma walking backwards carelessly, hands behind her head, one eye closed in an extended wink and chatting away. The other two were Lacey, and Alex, their conversation broken up by scattered bouts of laughter. Emma gave a mocking grin, which turned Lacey red faced and she gave a short sprint, chasing Emma. Alex face-palmed and looked around embarrassed.

Morrigan quickly looked away and hid under her hood as Alex’s eyes came dangerously close to her.

“Ah, classmates of yours?” Death asked.

“Yeah…” Morrigan said under her breath.

“Shall I go introduce myself?” he asked.

“NO! Absolutely NOT!” Morrigan spat. Though, she knew he was only being sarcastic.

“Why are you so tense?”

“Well… I kind of flaked on them. I was suppose to show up to a party.”

“The day you died? I wouldn’t exactly call that flaking, if I understand the term correctly.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I can explain what really happened can I? Nor can I explain the way I look.”

“Morrigan?” a voice called.

She pulled the string on her hoodie. “No, no, this isn’t happening!”

Death let a low chuckle escape him. “I’ll do what I can to help them not notice your appearance. They may simply think you look a bit pale.”

“Can’t we just disappear?” she hissed through her teeth.

“Hey! It is her!” Emma said, the three now surrounding her. “What the heck Morrigan? Trying to hide from us?”

Morrigan grinned akwardly, taking off her hood and looking up at the three girls. “H-hey, what are you guys doing here?”