Mason was wrong.

Our reaps didn't hog the rest of our night. Their 'post-mortems' stretched all throughout the next day as well, the three of us returning to the Mortuary around noon. With the soft jingle of the doorbell, I entered the antique bookstore Kevin owned as a cover for the Brooklyn's Reaper Alliance headquarters.

As I dragged myself through the deserted racks, my feet screamed to be released from their high-heeled prison. I wanted nothing more than to get some rest and recharge. Not to mention forget the colossal mess my recent assignments had been.

Mustering whatever strength I had left in my body, I nodded at auntie Euphemia, who was minding the counter. The half-mummified elderly woman sat curled up in her rocking chair, taking advantage of the slow day to work on some crochet. When she noticed me, she lifted her head and shot me one of her 'prune smiles', the ones that made the saggy folds of her skin droop and swallow both her eyes and lips.

"Anyone home?"

She nodded and kept silently smiling with her skin folds.

"Alrightey then," I said, and clanked past the counter straight into the back room, leaving our shopkeeper to her crocheting. Believe me, I wish I could explain her and all the others like her. Our Almighty boss wasn't too keen on sharing where he found all the ancient, seemingly immortal old ladies to manage his cover shops.

Speaking of my lovely boss, he ruined whatever dreams I had of rest. As I entered the elevator, I turned on my phone and discovered a text from him. Apparently, he'd called an official Alliance Mortuary meeting, at two p.m. I was mentally preparing myself for the scolding I would be receiving since I'd missed it when I noticed a note in the postscript with four different time stamps. It called all Reapers who couldn't make it to the official meeting to come to whichever rescheduling suited them best.

-Great. Now what?

Kevin never called group meetings. Our hectic schedules didn't allow for organized gatherings.

-Something big must have happened.

Bad news was definitely the last thing I needed at the moment.

Exhaling, I waited for the familiar elevator ding to signal that I'd arrived at my dank, underground destination. When the doors slid open, I exited and followed the familiar scent of mold and humidity to the dorm area I shared with the Reapers who were still under Kevin's patronage-which was a fancy word for newbie reapers in need of training, or those he didn't trust enough to emancipate themselves and build cover lives outside the Mortuary.

Entering my painfully bare, shoe closet of a room, I hurriedly peeled out of my horrid party dress into a comfortable pair of jeans and a cotton sweater. My feet sighed in absolute pleasure when I kicked off those horrible torture devices people called shoes, and let my toes sink into the soft carpet. I gave myself a few moments to breathe, letting my reaper powers kick in to heal the three ugly blister that had formed on my right toe, before sliding them into a comfortable pair of slippers. Afterward, I speed-walked back out into the poorly lit hallway. I stopped just as I entered the cafeteria's spacious, yellowed interior.

"Hey," I murmured to Lillian as I approached our Division's usual table close to the kitchen. My gaze trailed across the empty cups, carton plates, and ketchup-stained tissues littering the tables around us. "Are we early?"

Lillian scribbled something in her Death Ledger, the lock of hair falling into her eyes a stark contrast to her porcelain complexion.

"Nope, everybody already attended the thing at two. It's just us from the Accident Division."

"They did? How the heck did they manage to make it?"

Lillian arched a brow plucked way too thinly to match today's fashion standard.

"Oh, you didn't hear? Some neighboring Alliance's Natural Disaster Division needed some extra hands to do an upcoming thing around... Morristown, was it? I honestly don't know how they organize reapers in smaller towns. Anyway, Kevin performed his schedule-clearing voodoo and sent out most of our Alliance to help them with it."

I froze, my stomach twisting into a knot.

"There's gonna be an earthquake?"

She smoothed the hem of the white robe she wore whenever she crashed at the Mortuary, trying to keep her tone even and distant. As if she was discussing her favorite cigarette brand.

"Or a storm. Definitely not a flood. But whatever it is, the Natural guys think it will be localized."

I sank into my seat. Morristown was like an hour and a half outside NYC. So many dead people, so close to home.

"Wow. That sounds horrible."

Lillian shrugged. "They think it won't be anything big."

"Still, a lot of people are going to get killed, if most of our Alliance is pitching in."

"Yep. Death's been pretty harsh this past week," Lillian said, her voice wavering briefly.

I swallowed, remembering the orange flames that had engulfed club Paradise.

-Dammit. And to think I was dealing with an angry pug only a few hours ago.

"Nothing new there."

Lil nodded and with a smack of her lips, snapped her book shut.

"And done. Finally."

"I still don't get that," I commented, latching onto the subject change.

"I don't expect you to, sweetie," Lillian tutted, patting her notebook.

"Seriously, the club thing was last night. Why write down your reaps' info a full day after it happened, and they've already moved on to the pearly gates? You could easily make a mistake and write down the wrong numbers. Plus, it's twice as much work for something you could do on the spot before you send them off."

"That's exactly the point. It's an exercise. Like jumping jacks or crunches. Except here I'm working my brain. Keeping it nice and fresh."

I snorted. "Why, you auditioning for a game show?"

"More like making sure I don't end up senile."

"Leave it to the starlet to worry about getting old even after she's died," a raspy voice echoed behind us. My head snapped to the kitchen just in time to see Mason, wrapped in his wrinkled Pink Floyd hoodie, dragging himself out of there, two steaming mugs in his hands.

"Socialite Mason, socialite," Lil corrected. "In my day, it was actually a respectable thing to be."

Mason snorted and hastily ran his fingers through his messy hair. The angry, red lines marring the whites of his eyes were screaming for their customary twelve hours of sleep.

"Mmm, right," he shot back and slunk into the seat next to me. "Sex, parties and more sex. But all of it done in plaid suits and pearls, to make sure everyone involved stays classy."

He pushed a mug, the purple one with the caption 'this ray of sunshine is powered by caffeine' to me. I smiled, wondering if he thought of making coffee for me on his own, or if Lil had reminded him to do it. "One teaspoon of sugar, some cream and a pinch of that vile crap you enjoy for some reason."

I rolled my eyes and nudged him with my elbow. "Well, hi yourself. How are you, how was your day? Oh, and FYI, cinnamon in coffee is not vile."

"Cinnamon anywhere is vile. Even in buns."

Lilian snickered and said a word in a foreign language I thought sounded like French.

"Wow, never seen this place so deserted. I'm guessing all our colleagues have left for the local death-fest?"

I frowned at him. "You knew about that too? Geez, am I the only ignorant one here?"

Both Mason and Lil exclaimed together. "Yep."

"But in your defense," Mason continued. "You don't deal with this stuff too well. Probably why Kevin decided not to inform you."

I reluctantly nodded, unable to argue. Mason quickly changed the subject.

"So, since we already know about the thing in Morristown, and Kevin has made it abundantly clear we aren't invited, any idea why the Almighty insisted on us coming to this meeting? Other than to torture us, of course."

"No clue. But it must be something important," I murmured giving him a shrug.

Mason snickered. "Knowing Kevin, it's probably something boring."

"Mason!"

"Oh come on, the only time he ever calls group meetings is when either somebody has screwed up or when he has mountains of mind-numbing paperwork for us."

His words made my stomach tie into knots. Despite my best efforts to hold off fretting over the fiasco with Logan, I went right back to it.

-Maybe my screw up was the reason for this meeting.

"Definitely paperwork. It's the only reason Kevin would ever interrupt my beauty sleep," Lilian added, taking a sip of her coffee.

I shook my head. No way Kevin knew-especially since it just happened. I was being paranoid.

"Well, whatever it is, it definitely can't be worse than breaking into my reap's house to wipe furry porn off his hard drive. While his parents have loud sex the room over, blissfully ignorant of the fact their precious angel had snuck out, much less gotten himself killed," Mason shook his head, biting his bottom lip.

Lil snickered. "Ugh, gross. And I thought I got the short end of the stick with my last reap's crazy, religious grandma."

"Yep. Job of the year. Right, Saint Violet? How did your night go?"

I threw Mason a look, my hand nervously going for the phantom itch on the back of my neck.

"Well, um..." Mason's face twisted at my hesitation, and he opened his mouth to say something. His words died on his lips, cut short by the sound of the cafeteria door slamming open.

"Ah, here comes the Lord of Impeccable Timing," he frowned.

I followed Mason's gaze to find Kevin, strolling into the cafeteria, in all his scrawny glory. As always, he was carrying the irreplaceables- his trusty itinerary, the holy book of reaper affairs, and his unforgettably grim face, which put even Gordon Ramsey to shame.

"Ah good, you're all here." Kevin mumbled not taking his wide, shining eyes off the itinerary. He was trailed by his shadow and second in command, Archie, his soft, wrinkled smile the day to Kevin's dark, but youthful scowl.

"We have work to do."

"Wow! Not even a hello! How are you? Is everything okay? Nice leadership skills, boss," Mason croaked, switching into rebellious teen mode.

-Oh boy.

Thus, the sniping commenced.

Lifting his eyes from his book slowly, like some comic book villain, Kevin shot Mason his trademark eyebrow arch. Everyone in the Alliance always said that that look could make even a demon pee its pants. It certainly made all the blood flee from my cheeks.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd lost your pacifier. I promise to be gentler in the future. You want me to change your diaper too?"

Making a face at him, Mason flipped him off and crossed his arms over his chest.

Ten points for Kevin.

"Now that you've all gotten your pacifiers, we can get to the reason for the meeting you guys missed. And no, it isn't about the thing in Morristown, or me wanting to pointlessly torture you," Kevin shot us all a poignant look, making us freeze. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd somehow rigged this whole place with hidden cameras and mics.

"Annual death report," He announced.

A collective cry of displeasure echoed throughout the deserted cafeteria as Kevin went around our table and handed each of us some log forms.

"Told you, boring as shit paperwork," Mason snickered.

"That's right kiddies, it's that time of the year again, where you get to catalog all the souls you've reaped in the last 360 days or so."

"Technically, it isn't that time of the year yet," Mason pointed out, staring at his form like it was a gross, snotty tissue.

"Yeah, don't we usually get to fill these in on New Year's?" I complained. I so wasn't in the mood for this. Especially with my unfinished reap.

"Calvary wants it early this year. Like tomorrow night early." Kevin said, smoothing the collar of his white T-shirt. A white tee and jeans seemed to be all he ever wore, so much so, that it became a favorite joke of our Alliance to say that they were infused into his skin, and part of his God uniform.

"Since when does the Calvary care so much about reap reports? As long as things go smoothly, they have nothing to worry about," Mason protested, crossing his arms on his chest.

"See, Mason, I don't remember it being your call. Now shut up, stop whining and fill in that report by tomorrow," Kevin fired, mirroring his movements.

Mason grunted. "Oh come on! I just spent an entire night dealing with whining high school kids! I really don't need this right now!"

Kevin puckered his lips. "Oh poor you, having to endure actually doing your job for once. Shall I get the violins out?"

Lil whistled at the bright red flush spreading under Mason's skin.

"Something to add, Lillian?" Kevin said, his dark eyes taking her in. She grimaced at her form in the same way she did at seafood or plastic surgery.

"Yes, actually. I wanted to tell you that I can't fill in these."

Kevin squinted, before leaning against the table opposite ours, his posture expectant.

"Really? Oh, this should be good. Pray tell, why not?"

"Well, apart from not doing paperwork..." Lillian paused, her eyes taking Kevin in. "...which I can totally forego, just for you. See, the thing is... I'd already made plans to go to dinner..."

"I don't see how this is related to the forms."

"The dinner is tomorrow, and since I'd already promised I would go, I can't exactly cancel..."

Kevin rolled his eyes. "Jesus, do I look like I'm in a mood to be messed with today?"

"I wasn't messing with you. I was just asking..."

Kevin did his trademark eye twitch, before groaning.

"Does the dinner start at dawn?"

Lillian frowned. "Well, no but..."

"Fantastic, then you'll have plenty of time to fill in the forms."

"But it will take all day! I won't have time to get ready."

"Right I forgot, your beauty regiment lasts a measly four hours."

"Gimmie a little credit here. Four hours is a small price for this," She tossed her hair, smirking seductively.

"How will we survive without it?" Kevin huffed. "I told you when you undied. Your personal life takes a backseat to your job."

"We can't all be sad and miserable workaholics like you."

"Oh, you got me. Right in the feels!" Kevin made an exaggerated face, before resuming his customary sarcastic glaring. "Don't whine. It could be worse. I could make you fill in the forms of the entire Murder Division too."

"Archie!" Lillian turned to the aged man, silently observing us from behind Kevin's bony shoulder. "Do something!"

Archie sighed, his pearl white teeth a shocking contrast to his dark skin. "Such as?"

"I don't know, intervene!"

"Oh, uh-huh, I have my own form to fill up, doll. I don't need double."

Kevin hissed. "Uuu. Looks like you're on your own kid. Best of luck. I'd start now if I were you."

Lillian grunted and crossed her arms on her chest. Realizing that she wasn't going to protest any further, Kevin gave us all a look over.

"Anyone else? No? Good. Now get to work."

With reluctant sighs, Mason and Lil got up and begrudgingly marched to their rooms. I waited until they were out the door before approaching my boss.

One look in my direction was enough to make Kevin groan. Loudly.

"What's our darling Axl Rose done now?"

I frowned. "What?"

"Ah yes, the pouty lips, the glistening eyes, the sweet voice. Mason must've screwed up pretty badly this time if he's making you do the trifecta."

I blinked and shook my head. "No, no, he didn't screw up."

Kevin scoffed. "Well, that's a first. Then who is it? Lillian? Odd, she usually does her own sucking up."

"Ugh, no, it wasn't any of them, okay. It was... me."

Kevin glared at me, widening his pinball eyes so that the veinless whites popped out of their sockets. It made his cheeks hollow out enough for the bones to protrude through his white skin—if you had seen him in some dark room, you would have mistaken him for a real-life monochrome version of Munch's Scream, dressed in a white tee and jeans.

To say it was strange and terrifying, would be an understatement. Luckily, he spared me the weight of that deathly glare when he coughed up a laugh, and his face settled into his customary skeletal scowl.

"Wait, you're serious?"

I exhaled. Archie murmured something inaudible under his breath.

"Well, there goes my last hope in this department," Kevin said, glancing at his second-in-command.

"What happened?" Archie asked, stepping forward to-as usual-soothe Kevin's harsh sting.

"Did you panic? Cause if you want, I could call up that shrink for you..."

I viciously shook my head. One round of post-mortem PTSD therapy was more than enough for me.

"No, no, Archie, I'm fine. The club part actually went well."

"Then what? Did your reap get tethered?" Archie continued.

I vigorously shook my head. "No, no, no... I mean, I don't know. I... he didn't really show up."

Kevin arched a brow, reminding me of a younger Hugo Weaving.

"What do you mean he didn't show up?"

I quickly relayed the details of how the night, as well as the clean up, went. I made a point of emphasizing that after I'd promised Corey I'd find someone to take care of his dog (who was surprisingly angry, for a pug), he'd gone without a hitch. After I was done, Archie and Kevin exchanged a glance, their faces somber. My heart dropped.

"Oh crap. How bad is it?"

Kevin turned away from me and began pacing, his hands on his hips, like some worried soccer mom. Archie traced his bushy mustache with his fingers.

"What do you think," he said to Kevin. "Separation syndrome?"

"Gotta be," Kevin blinked. "Why else wouldn't he show up? Ah, dammit, that's the third one this week..."

"You guys don't think he could be...."

"No," Archie said firmly, quashing my irrational hopes for good. "His name was in the book. No way he's still alive. He most likely just couldn't bring himself to leave his body."

I squinted. "But... I tied the knot. He had to have come to me, no matter how attached."

"Yeah, well, sometimes the knot doesn't work," Kevin supplied. "Everyone is different, and some people have more willpower than others. High enough to overcome the pull of the knot and let their emotions get the best of them."

I blinked in surprise. "That can happen?"

"It's rare, but yes. Which means that this guy is probably at the morgue right now, wallowing next to his own corpse, waiting for you to come and pick him up."

I nodded. "Right so... should I go get him?"

Kevin's expression went flat. "No, you should let him go all Paranormal Activity at a place that's already a hotspot for death. Yes, of course, you should go get him!"

"Okay, got it," I paused, twiddling my thumbs. "So... I'm not in trouble?"

Kevin exhaled and shot Archie a look that seemed shockingly parental. "See what I have to deal with?"

He turned back to me. "No. You came to me right away and told the truth. That always gets you off the hook."

I smiled. "Thank you."

"But you will be unless you go and get the guy."

"Okay."

"As in, now."

I shook my head. "Right, right... oh, wait, the forms? What about the forms?"

With a grunt, Kevin snatched the papers from my hand. "Congratulations kiddo, it's your lucky day. You have won a free pass for this years' Annual death report. Leave me your Ledger, and I'll fill in the forms for you."

My smile widened, "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, go send this guy to the Stairway to heaven and then thank me. Remember, there's still room for you to screw up."

"I won't, I promise."

"I know. Now get! Get!"

With a glad nod of relief, I rushed out of the cafeteria.

"The list of morgue numbers is in my office desk! Find out where they took his meatsack!" Kevin called after me.

I gave him a thumbs up and exited the cafeteria, speed walking in the direction of his office, located one floor below the cafeteria.

-Well, at least I didn't screw up.

This mess was entirely my reap's fault, which was something at least.

-Then why am I feeling no better?

As I descended the stairs, into the bowels of the Alliance Mortuary, I kept waiting for the relief to come. Yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make myself feel good about this. It was silly of me, I knew, seeing as how Kevin had just let me off the hook and confirmed that everything was going to be okay.

But something about this entire affair felt... off.

As I entered Kevin's office, and immediately went to raid his desk drawers for the list of useful phone numbers, I was certain of one thing. Logan Winslow was going to cross over today. Even if I had to kick him through the pearly gates myself.