It took everything Michael had not to hack and gasp at the feeling of his lungs burning for fresh air. Isabel didn’t wait for a response, slithering instead to the pallet in the other room. She felt along the walls, her claws leaving gouges and chips in the stone. Michael followed her progress until she flopped amidst the pile of fabric, curling up like a child. He gagged at the puff of pungent scent that wafted up from the nest. He stayed on the wall, far enough away that he could breathe again, but not so far that Isabel couldn’t find him. With one sleeve held over his nose and mouth, he observed. 

Isabel twisted, serpent-like, until she was comfortable and observed him right back. 

“What makes you so curious, Reaper?” she asked, her voice a mournful echo in the cavern. 

“What happened to you? Really?” 

The milky eyes drifted around the room. “Much was how my story tells it. I was surprised the first time I heard the song.” Her lips pinched, possibly at the memory. “I offended my step-mother; she cursed me. She knew that I loved Owen, and that he didn’t care for me. It was almost crueler.” Her hands gripped a pillow, forcing the stuffing to bulge out of rips and broken seams. “I believe she hoped he would kill me. But there was a war, so I bargained a kiss for items to help him. A belt and a sword were all he took before he refused to come back. My step-mother lived on. There was no retribution for me.” 

“How do you know he didn’t try?”

“Who would?” The question was accompanied by tears, viscous and gray, sliding down her face. “He got what he wanted and forgot me.”

“And the others here?”

“I brought them back.” Her sniffles turned to pride. “Each of them, dying and alone. I brought them here. I love them all.” 

“And me?” 

“Korri told me about you. You sounded so lonely.” Michael frowned. So Korri was solely responsible for his entire situation. He needed to send her a token of appreciation later. Something that really encompassed how he felt about her. Maybe a lit stick of dynamite. Small panting gasps broke him out of his thoughts. Isabel was clutching her chest and writhing, her tail spasming and hitting the wall. Michael dashed to the nest, worried. 

“Isabel?” Michael wanted to help, but he didn’t even know what this was, much less what was causing it. 

“You have to let it run its course.” He whipped around, already knowing who was behind him. Korri was standing by the entrance, soaked and shivering in the cool cave air. 

“There’s nothing we can do?” He fidgeted, alternating between hovering over Isabel and shooting nervous glances at Korri. Hadn’t Isabel already suffered enough?

“Her blood itself is poison,” Korri murmured, coming to stand beside him at the edge of Isabel’s nest. “This happens sometimes. If you try and touch her, it attacks you as well.” Korri’s voice was emotionless, but strained. She’d probably seen this over and over, Michael realized. Years and years of watching her friend suffer and being unable to help. 

He’d never felt more powerless. His dream of Erin resurfaced. So many souls, dead and dying. People just like Isabel, who’d gotten screwed over by fate. A particularly hard spasm had Isabel crying in more pain. She curled in on herself as far as she could, until the long strands of hair still tethered to the tree yanked her back. Michael felt sick. Then there was his sister’s face, overlaying Isabel’s, crying as she was dragged away, crying for him. Fausta hadn’t deserved her death. Neither did Isabel deserve this torture.

He couldn’t take this anymore. 

We cannot save them. We can never save them… 

Says who?

Without thinking, Michael grabbed the heavy strands of hair and pulled. The wood splintered and exploded, crashing to the floor. Isabel screamed. Shushing her gently, Michael gathered her in his arms, cooing the way he had to his baby sister. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered. The poison was flowing into him, black and sickening. Spots danced in his vision and his breath began to falter. It’s a slow transition, hastened only slightly by his magic. Bit by bit, he stole Isabel’s death. He took the poison and the curse, took the years she’d been tortured. Anuk would kill him for that, he knows. If he survives. The poison and death are finally drained and Isabel grows quiet, still in her monstrous form. 

Michael is a mess of sores and bile. He can feel himself begin to fade, lying next to Isabel. He could only imagine how powerful the witch had to be to cast this curse if it could take out a Reaper. 

“I couldn’t change her back,” he whispered to Korri, who’d gathered Isabel in her arms. That small change was beyond him. Isabel whimpers in her sleep. 

“It was a fairytale, Pretty Boy.” There were tears gathered in Korri’s eyes. “It has to be a kiss.” Delicate as falling leaves, Korri pressed her lips against Isabel’s forehead. Sobs accompanying the tears that fall onto waxy skin as Isabel breathed a sigh of relief. Michael was in too much pain to notice when the change began, but he could still see its effect. 

Bones that had been crooked, began to straighten. The grotesquely long hair shrank and claws turned back into fingers. Isabel’s face began to turn back to a girl’s, freckled and tan with a mole by the right eyebrow. It wasn’t a grand transformation, but more beautiful because of its simplicity. Korri held the small woman as the tail shrank back into legs and the scales and scars vanished. Brown eyes opened and fixated on the Korrigan. 

“Hello,” Isabel sighed. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Korri sobbed. “For so long! I-I wanted to-”Isabel shushed her.

“I know. It’s alright.” The frail form snuggled deeper into Korri’s hold. Michael knew what came next, but even his heart broke at the thought. Isabel seemed to know what he was thinking, her quiet gaze settling on him. “Thank you, Michael,” she whispered. Between one breath and the next, she was gone, and Korri settled her body reverently in the nest before crawling over to Michael. She couldn’t see it, not like Michael could, but Isabel’s soul glowed brightly, like starlight. With a thought and a grunt of pain, Michael sent it on its way. Whatever reaper stumbles upon it will have to take it the rest of the way to heaven. 

“Did you know this would happen?” he grunted, pain latching onto his innards like a demon. Korri inhaled a shuddering breath.

“It was an option,” she said. “One of the futures I saw when I found out about you. It was only when you woke up during the spell that I knew it was certain.” 

“You wanted her to stay.” It wasn’t a question; only a blind man would have missed it. Korri hiccuped and nodded.

“I knew she’d die. Her body wasn’t meant to last this long. Only the curse kept her here. I just didn’t want to lose her.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I should have been ready for it. You only did what you were meant to do.” 

They sat in companionable silence while Korri got her tears under control. Michael tried to fight the tremors of pain. Thoughts of how he’d broken the cardinal rule of Reapers swirled in his head, but he was too dizzy to focus on it. The poison moved incredibly fast. 

“How long do you have?” Korri asked. Michael snorted.

“Shouldn’t you know,” he joked. One look at her expression answered that for him. “A few minutes,” he finally admitted. 

“I’ll stay.”

Reapers don’t fade the way humans or angels do. Angels will burn up when their time comes, ashes of golden fire. Humans reside in heaven as souls or in hell as demons. Reapers just faded; no soul to maintain them, no divine fury to consume them. 

“Get up! Why are you lying there, a bhuanchara.” Erin’s voice trickled into his ears like a memory. A dream then. He sighed contentedly. 

Then the dream pinched his nose and pulled him into a sitting position. 

“What the hell!” He sputtered and tried to right himself as Erin giggled like a maniac. 

“This is no place for dreams, boyo!” She wrapped him in a hug. 

“Am I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, too distracted by the beautiful world around them. Isabel’s secret dome couldn’t compare to this place. Nebulous swirls of stars and deep blackness assaulted his senses. For the first time in a long time, he sensed no warning of death, nothing to dim the beauty of the cosmos. Each pinprick was reflected in the dark surface beneath them. He felt peace settle over him. 

“Yes.” Erin nodded, finally answering his unasked question. “We have so much to talk about.” 

Korri stomped into her bar, ignoring Mandrake’s worried glances as he cleaned the glasses and prepped for opening. Her eyes were red, she knew, and her face was puffy after burying Isabel. She felt she deserved a bit of a temper tantrum. There would definitely be one less bottle of the special liquor they kept for patrons like Pretty Boy when she left in the early hours of the morning. She thought about all the sketches she had of Michael, the ones she’d felt compelled to show the Reaper wandering the streets of New Orleans months ago. Guilt settled in her stomach at the way they’d manipulated Michael. She resolved to burn the drawings as soon as possible. 

“Well, aren’t you in a fit state, cher,” a smooth voice mocked. Korri grunted at the black woman dressed in scarlet and pearls that lounged against the bar. Anuk raised a brow. 

“What do you want?” 

Anuk’s usual dreads were tied in a fat bun on top of her head, so she couldn’t flip them as Korri had seen her do a thousand times. Still, she watched as Anuk’s hand went to perform the habitual gesture. Halfway through, the Reaper seemed to realize what she was doing, instead letting her knuckles brush the strings of uneven pearls dangling from her ear. 

“I just thought I’d let you know that Isabel was taken to her rightful place. Michael didn’t die in vain.” 

“That was the plan. I don’t see why you needed to tell me about it,” Korri snapped. “Just do right by her and leave me alone.”

“I am sorry for your loss, but I’m just doing my job. It was the only way to free her.” As soon as the words were out of Anuk’s mouth, Korri’s expression soured. She spat what was definitely an expletive at the Reaper and whirled around.

Anuk’s expression didn’t change as Korri stomped away, off to hide in her office. Instead she continued to lounge at the bar, trim form on display as guests began to trickle in. She was waiting for someone else.  

“I know you’ve been watching, Gabriel. A girl can only take so much staring.” 

“I thought I’d give you a moment,” the angel whispered. “You lost one of your best today.”

“Don’t pretend to care about my Reapers. Tell me I was right.” 

Gabriel sighed. “A soul like that, absorbing magic for centuries, of course you were right. It’s strong and completely pure after that stunt your boy pulled. She’ll make a fine angel.” 

“Good, I can say ‘I told you so.’ Now leave.” Gabriel smirked but walked out anyway, leaving Anuk alone at the bar with her thoughts. A few taps summoned Mandrake. 

“Welcome to ‘The Mermaid’ what can I get you?” he growled, his voice like rocks falling together. 

“Something strong. I’m mourning a friend.” She could toast to Michael’s memory tonight. Sinatra’s ‘That’s Life’ started playing, courtesy of a grimy quarter being dropped into the jukebox, as Mandrake passed her her drink. She snorted into the amber liquid that smelled faintly of vanilla. “To you, Michael, and your stupid, bleeding heart,” she whispered before downing the brew.

“Another, please.”