Excerpt: What You Don't Know

I sighed and tugged the blanket tighter around my shoulders, still shivering. I was wondering at how close I had come to death when, all of a sudden and with no warning whatsoever, the Reaper’s own black sleeve fluttered and swept over my head.
‘Sorry about that,’ he commented blithely. ‘Rough landing. Hello again, miss James.’
Death sat down on the chipped bench between me and where Noel stood. Noel himself seemed slightly bothered as he glanced from Death to me. The Grim Reaper looked up at him after a moment, and I could imagine the grin on the skull widening. I had already started to feel scared.
‘It’s alright. The two of you can calm down. I’m not after miss James for the time being. Not any more, at least.’
Noel and I looked at each other, then at Death. ‘Anymore?’ Our question was simultaneous. Our only reply was a nod.
‘I thought you said, last time we met, that once a person’s path was set in that direction, there was no changing it?’
‘I said there was almost certainly no changing it. Only demons can steer fate, and their common interest is misery. No demon would save a life if they could help it.’
I sat and pondered this for a while. Had a demon saved my life? Was I meant to die? A sensation of utter helplessness overcame me and I internally cursed all demons. Having so little control over my own destiny terrified me more than the poisonous spider I had found in my bed the week before.
‘But only a demon could have done it, right?’ Noel asked. I clicked back into the conversation. Death nodded again. I found myself consciously avoiding coming into contact with the scythe that was rested on one long, narrow forearm.
‘It would bother me, but it’s truly none of my business,’ Death said absent-mindedly. I noticed that Hermy had found his way into Death’s lap and was meandering with the same uneven yet steady pace around in circles. It had the speed of a snail and the determination of a tank. Death picked him up and watched the pointy whitish-red limbs curl back inside the brightly coloured shell.
‘Curious creature. One of your own design, may I ask?’ Death inquired. Noel shuffled his feet and shrugged meekly.
‘I think it’s a nice paint job. I mean, if I had a hermit crab, I might even get him to paint it,’ I interjected, advocating on Noel’s behalf. He looked rather uncomfortable as Death fiddled with his pet.
‘I’m not sure you understand my meaning, miss James,’ Death said. I looked from Hermy to Noel and back to Death, and my eyes met his hollow, glowing sockets. His face was usually obscured beneath a veil of shadow, and to see it so clearly made me feel as though I had drunk two shots of straight whisky.
‘This hermit crab is not a normal hermit crab. It is a vampire.’
I sat in stunned silence. Noel looked sheepish. I stared aimlessly, trying to process the information. Hermy wiggled his innocuous pointed feet at Death, who looked on disinterestedly.
The bus arrived and Death boarded with us, still cradling Hermy in his bony hand.
‘Your hermit crab is a vampire?’ I hissed as we took our seats at the back of the all but empty bus. Death, being a rather tall figure, had to bend forward slightly so his hooded head didn’t dent the grey metal ceiling. Noel was holding the picnic basket in his lap, holding it like it was a teddy bear and he was a victimized child.
‘He was my first pet. I was really upset when my dad explained to me that he was either dead or dying, so I did what a normal crazy vampire does and made sure Hermy would stay with me forever.’
Though it was undeniably strange to hear that explanation, I found it hard to be as disturbed as I was touched at Noel’s unhealthy emotional attachment to his hermit crab.
‘So,’ Noel said, ignoring the only other passenger on board and addressing Death directly.
‘What’s your business on this bus?’
He tried to make the question sound casual, but couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering to me, not realizing I was still looking at him.
‘Your friend is quite safe, as I said earlier,’ Death replied. The person a few seats ahead of us looked back briefly, eyes darting from me to Noel with an expression akin to annoyance and confusion, and turned back to his book.
‘So ...’ Noel glanced at the man. Death crossed his lanky arms in his lap. ‘Heart attack. You might care to notice that he is grossly overweight. He really should have abstained from that last pie.’
‘Oh dear,’ I whispered. It was not something I was proud nor ashamed of, but I genuinely hated seeing people suffer. It made me feel sick to hear a small child cry, or the groan of an elderly person when they fell over or got hit with something. I couldn’t understand gangs who deliberately caused people pain purely for the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing them feel it. It wasn’t because I am a genuinely kind, caring person mind you; it was the sound of suffering. No matter where it was coming from. It felt like I was the one it was happening to. It may have been conditioning, seeing as in the earlier years of my life Aiden, who was born prematurely, would get sick easily, and he never stopped being the most important thing in my world.
‘Will they stop the bus so an ambulance can come and take care of him?’ Noel asked. Death was looking directly at the back of the man’s head.
‘Quite possibly.’ He inclined his head just enough to make it look as though he was addressing Noel. ‘My only purpose here is to carry out the task of escorting his soul from his body, into the realm to which it will soon belong. Once that it done you will not see me again for a long time.’
We sat in silence for the next ten minutes, waiting for the scene to play out. I saw the man rub his arm, and braced myself. Noel turned to face me.
‘You’re worried?’
I nodded.
‘Don’t be.’
His cold hand found mine, and held it gently as our fellow passenger started to die.