Death is a Girl

Chapter 72 - Smoke Break

“You expect me to just lie down and take this!” the tattooed spirit yelled at Morrigan. “I have rights, you know! You can’t just come over here with your ‘Oooo, I’m here to guide you to heaven.’ I have a RIGHT to stay here until I’m ready to go!”

Morrigan let out an exasperated sigh as the early morning breeze tousled her white hair and she fixed her red eyes on the defiant spirit. These were the most annoying spirits to deal with. It didn’t help that this jerk in the white beater had wrecked his car into a tree while driving drunk. She wondered how he even qualified for passage to heaven. Didn’t endangering other people’s lives take away points? He must have barely made the cut.

“I understand your frustration,” Morrigan replied, trying to keep her voice calm. “However, it’s not about what you want anymore. Your time here has ended. It is my duty to ensure you—”

The spirit swirled around, ceasing his frantic pacing. “And just who are you to decide that? You can’t just come over here telling me you made your decision, and that’s that! I deserve a chance to—”

“Sir, I didn’t make any decisions—you did,” Morrigan interrupted firmly. “You chose to drive after clearly having too much to drink, and you crashed into that tree. Just be glad you didn’t get anyone else killed while you were at it, because that would have really hurt your chances of getting into heaven.” She reached for her scythe and materialized it into her grasp. “Now, I’m sending you to heaven, so just... just... keep your mouth shut and accept it!”

He recoiled, either by her outburst or the looming threat of her scythe, she wasn’t sure. She exhaled again, trying to maintain her cool. “Listen... I know dying sucks but—HEY!”

He suddenly spun around and started running.

“Hey! Get back here!” Morrigan broke into a sprint, scythe in hand, chasing him into the park. Over her shoulder, she noticed emergency lights just now approaching the crash site, but that was no longer her concern.

The chase led them to a trail that wound through the public park. Morrigan prepared to shadow step but saw some morning joggers coming from the opposite direction. “Noir,” she said under her gasping breaths. “I’m going to try glamour on my own this time.”

On cue, the black cat appeared running by her feet and looked up. “Very well. But do try to finish with this client soon. We're falling behind schedule.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Morrigan panted. She focused her energy, weaving the tingle of magic from her hands up to the charm Hilda had given her that was currently around her neck and under her hoodie. She felt a slight hum vibrate against her chest, then envisioned the energies wrapping around her face as she focused on her old appearance—how she looked before she died.

Before intersecting with the joggers, she tossed her scythe away. As they crossed paths, the runners nodded casually to her, oblivious to the spirit and completely unaware of the supernatural chase unfolding. The only thing that might have seemed strange to them was that she wore a hoodie in the middle of summer.

Morrigan increased her pace, narrowing the gap between her and the spirit. "Please, just stop," she called out to him, her voice more pleading than commanding now.

“Hell no! Just leave me alone!” he yelled back.

Morrigan focused on some nearby shadows as the trail wound around some trees and into a more shaded area of the park. Suddenly, the world changed from her perspective, her legs moving in an odd slow motion run, and she saw nothing but rays of light, shadow, and the vague silhouette of the spirit she was chasing. All sound wobbled as if she were under water.

As she approached the spirit she focused on slowing her legs, and successfully stepped out of the shadows, blocking his path with a hand out.

The spirit skidded to a stop, he looked shocked to see her in front of him.

“Try that again,” she warned, as she summoned her scythe, “and next time I’m reaping you without warning.”

“Y-you can’t—” he seemed at a loss for words.

Morrigan frowned, lowering the scythe to a less threatening posture. “I don’t like to reap spirits who are under duress. I would prefer to give you a moment to come to terms with what has happened. Please understand, I’m not here to punish or judge you, only to guide you to your next phase of existence.”

The spirit’s eyes dropped and he turned to look out over a small pond. The early morning mist hovered over the water. He sat down heavily on a nearby bench, his shoulders sagging.

Morrigan approached slowly. “So, why are you so afraid of moving on?"

Gazing at the pond, the spirit’s indignation gave way to sorrow. "I didn't get to say goodbye," he murmured, his voice cracking. "My daughter... she's going to wake up, and I won’t be there."

Morrigan straightened, her expression softening. “I understand that must be incredibly hard. It’s one of the toughest parts about passing—leaving behind those we love. But running away won’t change the reality.”

The spirit’s eyes remained fixed on the gentle ripples of the pond. “But how can I make sure she’ll be okay without me?”

“You can’t do anything other than have faith in her and trust she’ll find her way.”

He wiped at his eyes. “I just wish I could see her grow up.”

“Maybe you can’t be there physically for her anymore, but your memories will live on. That’s something you leave behind which is stronger than death.”

The spirit looked at Morrigan, a semblance of peace beginning to replace the turmoil in his eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

Morrigan nodded. “I do. And where you’re going, you’ll see that it’s true. You can watch over her and feel proud of her from afar. And when it’s her time, many, many years from now, you’ll be there to meet her and you’ll have a whole lifetime of catching up to do.”

He looked at Morrigan, tears in his eyes. “I... I don’t normally drink like that. It’s just, my hours got cut at work, and her mom was threatening me with custody. So many things piled up at once and I was just so frustrated and angry I just needed to take the edge off and...” His eyes lowered shamefully. “A few drinks turned into a few too many... I swear I never do this.”

Morrigan listened intently, then gave a compassionate smile. "You made a mistake—a serious one—but that doesn't define your entire existence. You're still a father who loves his daughter, and that’s clear by how worried you are about her now."

The spirit's breath hitched as he absorbed her words, looking back over the water with a reflective gaze. "I just wanted to do right by her, and I know I wasn’t perfect… but I didn't want it to end this way."

"Nobodies perfect. All of us are flawed, but I’m sure you did your best," Morrigan replied softly. He didn’t respond and just stared at the pond, the mist dancing over the surface of the water. It didn’t seem like he would try to run anymore, so she lifted her scythe and gently approached him. He didn’t resist or acknowledge her as she passed the blade through his ethereal form, and his body rose to the sky as it shimmered and disappeared.

Morrigan tossed her scythe away once again and sat heavily on the bench. Instead of reaching into her sleeve for her list, she fished her phone out of her pocket and navigated over to Read-It.

It had now been three weeks since the story broke, and nearly three months since the last day of school—the day she died. She couldn’t believe it was already August, and school would be starting again soon. The world would continue on without her—if she decided to just stay gone, that is.

The thread about her disappearance was still pretty high on the local sub Read-It, but it already seemed everyone was moving on. Only the dedicated true crime fanatics seemed to keep talking about her case, weaving theories and speculating on what really happened. Morrigan scrolled through the comments, her heart aching over the fact her life had become a spectacle.

She sighed, backed out of the main thread, and started scrolling down through the sub.

“Morrigan,” Noir appeared on the bench beside her with his usual serious gaze. “You should be careful not to get too absorbed in that. I’ve noticed it distracts you from your duties whenever you begin to dwell on it.”

“Shut up,” Morrigan said in a soft, distracted voice. “I’m catching my breath. Just give me a minute.” As she continued to scroll, she felt the changeling knock against the seal, then slither back into place after verifying it had nowhere to go.

She was just about to back out of Read-It and return her phone to her pocket when a new thread, still low on the list, caught her attention: “New Anna Livingston Footage.”

She felt a pang in her chest, viewing the thumbnail of her mom wearing a black apron outside of what looked like a grocery store with a cigarette in her hand. Did she get a new job?

Unable to help herself, Morrigan clicked on the video.

The camera was wobbling as the cameraman approached her mom. She was leaning against a brick wall smoking, then looked up with an irritated scowl. “Excuse me, are you Anna Livingston?”

“You got the wrong person,” her mom said dryly.

The person behind the camera persisted, stepping closer, undeterred by Anna's obviously hostile expression. "I just want to ask a few questions about your daughter, Morrigan. There's been a lot of speculation about—"

Anna flicked her cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out, her expression hardening as she started to walk away. The camera became shaky as its holder followed her through the parking lot. “Miss. Livingston! Why did it take so long to contact the police? Do you know where your daughter is?”

Her mom only responded by putting up a middle finger.

“Did you kill Morrigan Livingston!?” he yelled after her. Even with the shaky camera, Morrigan could see passersbys disturbed by the scene as they stopped to gawk. Finally, her mom turned around, her face furious.

"Listen, you little fucking punk!" Anna snarled. "I've had enough of you vultures prying into my life and spreading lies.”

“Ma’am, I just want to document—”

“Look at you,” she gestured at him. “You’re not even from a news organization. You think I’m going to talk about my daughter to some punk kid so you can get views on MyTube?”

The cameraman finally seemed to realize he'd pushed too far, as he began to retreat, still recording but now keeping a cautious distance. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to back away—”

“Exactly! You’re a coward,” she spat at him. “I’m not even going to ask you to respect me and my daughter’s privacy because I know you won’t. But since you’re posting this anyway—”

The cameraman ceased his retreat as Anna slowed her advance. She stared into the camera and said, “Morrigan, if you see this, you don’t have to come home if you don’t want to, but just let me know you’re alright somehow. If you want to come back or anything, just know you’re not in trouble. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better for you, but I love you. And if anyone else sees this and knows anything about what happened to her, please go to the police and ask for Detective Grant.”

The cameraman cleared his throat and stuttered as he began to speak again. “S-so you believe Morrigan is still alive? How can you be so—”

“And you I’m not talking to. But Morrigan’s a smart kid. I feel sorry for anyone who tries to mess with her. Now keep following me and I really will end up locked up. Stay out of my business.” With that final warning, Anna turned sharply and walked back towards the store, leaving the cameraman behind.

The video abruptly ended there, leaving Morrigan staring at the frozen image of her mother's retreating back. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the phone. However, as she lowered her phone, she felt a slight twitch of her lip. Noir’s head turned as he watched her, as if trying to decipher her reaction.

“Just give me another minute,” Morrigan said, turning her attention back to her phone. The video had been posted only recently, so there were not many comments yet, but she scrolled through them.

As Morrigan scrolled, her eyes skimmed over the initial comments. Most were the usual mix of speculation and amateur sleuthing. Then there were the outright accusatory ones painting her mom in the worst light possible: ‘She’s clearly got the eyes of a killer,’ and ‘nobody reacts that way to normal questions, what a psycho,’ then ‘thanks for investigating but make sure you’re safe!’

Seriously? Worried about the safety of that asshole who’s harassing people?

Then, another comment caught her eye. ‘Everyone’s quick to judge, but that video shows a mom hurting. Can’t people see that?’

Morrigan pressed the like button on that comment so that it’d be easier to find later, then she returned her phone to her pocket. “At least some people know how to think before acting like they have all the answers.”

She then pulled her list out of her sleeve and unraveled it. The second and third names seemed to be on the same street and roughly at the same time. Except, one of the names was penned in thicker black ink that seemed messily applied. It was bolder and more difficult to read. She raised an eyebrow and showed it to Noir. “Hey, what’s up with this name on the list?”

“Ah yes, I suppose this will be a new experience for you. One of your next clients is going to hell.”

Morrigan nodded in the middle of scanning the rest of the list, as if he had commented on whether or not it was going to rain. “Okay, so I guess I should—wait, what!?”

She instantly gripped the parchment and read a little closer, feeling her heart catch in her throat.

John Mcarthy, age 32, 2475 Airport Road, bullet wound, 10:35am

Russel De’Grasse, age 24, 2465 Airport Road, bullet wound, 10:39am

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