Micah moved through the entryway with Briseis in tow, her light giggling coming from behind him as she dangled over his shoulder.

"Did you hear what I said about the pizza?" She asked.

With a grunt, he moved to put her on the sofa when he took a step and a shrilly cat meow echoed from under his feet. Lifting his foot, Micah hissed a curse as Osiris ran from him into his bedroom.

Briseis slightly sobered at the loud scream of her upset cat. She picked up her head, which felt like a brick. "Hey! What did you do to O?"

Micah shook his head. "Sorry, I think I stepped on his tail coming in. He's okay. He's been through a lot worse before you saved him."

"I love that fucking cat. He's my angel." Her hoarse voice droned.

"Your idea of an angel is very interesting." Standing in front of the sofa, he finally lowered his body to help her down. "Now, I'm going to set you right here." Gently, Micah shifted her body till her feet touched the floor and lazily bent her knees to plop on the couch. With a sigh, she lightly bounced against the cushion.

She wiped her face and groaned. "Oh my God. I shouldn't have gone out. That was a bad idea." She heard a buzz from her phone. "Uh, what now?" Briseis fished around in her bag and finally pulled out her phone.

September 8, 2016 9:56PM

Hey there champ. Just letting you know I made it home safe. If you're knocked out you'll see this text in the morning :)

P.S. That blind date of yours seems interesting. He promised to take care of you. Hope he follows through ;) ;)

~Hal

Briseis smiled, seeing Hal's text. They always made sure to text each other that they got home when they hung out. But this was the first time he left more than just a "Hey I'm home." text. Reading his message, she shook her head at his audacity. Hal was an awful judge of character so of course he would take a shine to a reaper to go out with me. And he wonders why he's single? Her vision barely focused, she decided to text him back.

September 8, 2016 9:58 PM

He's trouble. Hope he didn't creep you out or anything. Glad you're safe. See you soon!

Briseis set her phone down and watched Micah wander around in her kitchen, appearing lost. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Getting you some caffeine," Micah replied, visibly frustrated. He opened and closed several cabinets. "Your friend advised me to get you some."

Briseis rolled her eyes. "If you're looking for coffee, it's in the top cabinet to the left of the sink. Do you even know how to make coffee?"

"I can read, Briseis."

"Yeah, but can you do the right ratio so it doesn't taste like crap?" Briseis started to stand up, leaning on the sofa arm for support. "I can make it, no worries." She took a few steps and before she could register the movement, Micah was in front of her, pushing her back down on the sofa.

"I can take care of it. What I need from you is to sit, alright? I'll make the coffee." Micah made his way back to the kitchen and found the tin of coffee grounds in the cabinet where she directed.

Briseis felt the beginnings of a migraine and willfully complied. "You're right. Oh my God, I can't believe I just said that, but it's true." She groaned. "Coffee would be ah-mazing right now. If you can inject it directly into my bloodstream, even better." She kicked off her shoes and curled herself onto the sofa.

Micah read the back of the tin can of coffee. Seemed simple enough. He went to the coffee maker and proceeded to follow the directions to brew a pot of coffee. "This shouldn't take long to brew."

"Melty, melty--"

Micah held his hand up. "After I get some caffiene in you. Deal?"

Briseis rubbed her temples. "Fine. Deal." She watched him in her kitchen, his concentration focused on the coffee spewing out of the machine. "Must me so proud of yourself."

"What do you mean?" He asked, his eyes still on the coffee maker.

Briseis threw one arm across her eyes and the other to dramatically talk. "You strongarmed yourself into my time away from you, charmed my good friend and got to take me home three sheets to the wind, calmly obeying you. Congratulations, you've dominated me."

Micah turned to look at her laying on the sofa. Her long legs stretched across the cushions. "That is not my intentions, Briseis. I don't wish to dominate you or your life. I just want answers just like you want answers. We can help each other understand. I truly believe that." With the last sputter of the coffee machine. Micah grabbed a mug off the window seal and poured the hot black liquid into the mug. "How do you take it?"

"As is. Black." She shifted towards him as he came over with the mug of coffee.

"Thank you." Briseis took the mug from Micah gently and blew across the surface. "I take it you've never touched the stuff?" She raised her mug. "Coffee."

Micah shook his head. "I'm familiar with its effects, but no, I'm not a coffee drinker."

Her eyes still heavy, she narrowed them to scrutinizing slits. "Soooo. You don't drink. You don't eat or smoke. No coffee. You smell like a floral shop and women are dying to get in your pants. You're pretty fascinating, Micah. You say you're not an angel, but you seem a little too righteous to be anything else."

Micah cleared his throat. He didn't know quite what to make of her description of him. No one's called him fascinating. In fact, he considered himself pretty boring. He's been doing the same damn job longer than people knew the what stars were. Scary? Yes. Fascinating? No.

"I wouldn't really say that. I'm no different than any other reaper." Micah slid off his long black coat and laid it on the arm of the sofa. "And just because I rather not interact much with the mortal coil doesn't mean I'm unfamiliar with the mortal world. I was mortal once. We all were."

"Really?"

Micah raked his fingers through his hair. "Yes. Some were a lot longer than others. It's why sometimes there's risk for younger reapers to cross over. They remember far too vividly of their old mortal life and the joys they once had, it's hard for some to stay away. Many work through it. Some don't and break the rules."

Briseis inched to the edge of the couch. "What happens to those that break the rules?"

Micah's eyes darkened as if he remembered something far too disturbing. "Azrael deals with them. And we never see of them ever again." He briefly looked away. "There's a misconception that reapers cannot feel pain or that since we are no longer mortal there's nothing that can hurt us." He sighed. "Trust me, Briseis. Nothing could be further from the truth."

She set her mug down on the coffee table and rubbed her shoulders protectively. The tone of his voice implied he was well aware of what happened, or maybe even seen it happened to a reaper he knew. The curiosity in her wanted to probe more, but in seeing his remorseful expression, she thought better of it. "So that's why you hate it here? Is it full of temptation for you?"

He sat back. "I'm not tempted. I just don't like feeling hungry or thirsty or...other needs and emotions that threaten to cloud my judgment. I've been doing this a long time, Briseis, and I know those feelings are best left to the living."

Briseis began to speak when her stomach grumbled. She sighed. "Well, aren't you, for all intensive purposes, living, Micah?" She took her last gulp of coffee and eyed him. "I mean. You're right here. Breathing, talking. Is Azrael so afraid to let you all connect to the living--the ones you serve--that he forbids you all to...live?"

Micah frowned. "I don't serve the living. I serve the dead, Briseis. A reaper's job is to help a mortal accept death and calmly cross over. We take their soul and keep it safe while the vessel dies. I know it sounds cruel and cold to you because you reject death, but on the contrary, it takes a great deal of grace and compassion to reassure a human that their suffering is over and you're there to give them peace. If we're too enamored with the little joys of the living, we will not be much used to the dead who will no longer enjoy those things again." He stood up and took her mug. "I'll get you some more."

Briseis folded her arms. "Thanks. Are you trying to sober me up?"

"Yes."

"Interesting. Most people would be trying to shut me up. Not give me more energy to pick apart their existence." She watched Micah move to the kitchen and couldn't take her eyes off him. She loved the way he moved and it seemed he had become rather comfortable navigating within her home. It didn't bother her much since she laid down the rules that her bedroom was off limits. But as she drank in this sexy being moving through her space, a part of her really wanted to take that limitation back. She softly shook her head at the tempting idea.

Micah poured the coffee and sighed. "Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind." Perhaps, he would be a fool not to, he thought to himself. He walked over and handed her the refilled mug.

Feigning laughter, Briseis accepted the cup. "You're awfully funny, reaper. So you and your creepy reaper buddies get to charm the souls out of people so they don't put up a fight and because you guys are playing the innocent, righteous, it's not like you'll have any sympathy at all for the poor souls that move on to be without that kinda fun forever." She sipped her hot coffee and stared at him. "And yet, I'm the one toying with people's lives? I'm sensing unfair judgment."

"I never said that some don't put up a fight." Micah paced around the area. He tried not to look at her as she again stretched herself on the couch. Her long legs crossed over in comfort. However, he couldn't help watching her take down her bun, letting her long, chestnut hair cascade in a shiny twist. As she pushed it back, Micah looked away. "Sorry, what was I saying?"

"You said some put up a fight. What happens to them?"

Micah strode over to her, watching her, watching him. "It doesn't happen often. Not as much as humans would like to think. But sometimes, a reaper is unskilled and cannot persuade a person that death should be accepted. Sometimes, the person is so strong in spirit, that they fight, tooth and nail to stay. A wise reaper would take them anyway, despite the lack of peaceful disposition." He stopped just short of the sofa where she looked up at him. "But some, some can't bear the sorrow that attaches to the soul. The feeling of emptiness they keep with them when they realize they have died. Some reapers pull the soul...but then set it free, somewhere on the mortal coil." His eyes dipped in dismay as he remembered reapers throughout the years that made these terrible actions. Some he was forced to judge because they tried to flee their duties shortly afterwards.

Briseis set the cup down. She paused and felt her heart wrench as she understood what that meant. "Ghosts?" She stared into his vivid blues as he nodded.

"That is the common term. They really are souls that are without a vessel. Lost, abandoned." He sat down on the opposite end of the sofa and folded his arms. His body for the 1st time he could remember--had felt cold. The visions in his mind seemed to pull everything that was painful about his past. Reliving some moments made his muscles tense. He just sat erect, facing forward. "The truly sad point is that they still do not get to sate their desires. Hungry, in need of touch...they continue to feel that way amongst a world where that is in abundance. It teases and taunts them. They get to see their loved ones grow up without them. And for them? Always hungry, in need of connection. Love. Always wanting."

Briseis pulled her knees up to her chest. She couldn't imagine such a life. Invisible to all those who knew you best. Those that loved you. Hunger, love, comfort--everything that made life worth living--was elusive to you. Her mother used to tell her stories of ghosts. Tales of spirits who were so angry and broken, witches died trying to elude them or free them. It made so much sense now. Those people didn't want to die; the fire was still burning within them. But instead of peace, they received emptiness. Who knew such an existence could be real. She never really believed in a fate worst than death, until now. "Sounds like a terribly lonely existence."

It was, he thought to himself. "Yes, it does." Micah replied. His voice was a little above a whisper. He briefly met her turquoise eyes and worried she would see through him. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up from the sofa. "So you see, that kind of sympathy can cause more pain and sorrow in the end. It only serves the reaper, Briseis. Not the soul. I know that to you it may seem cold, but often we must be cruel only to be kind."

Seeing the cautious emotion in his eyes, Briseis wondered what wisdom hid behind them. Though she was caught up in the whirlwind of having a reaper watch her every step, it still amazed her that Micah was a creature she never thought existed. Someone who has all the secrets of the world on the edge of his lips. Wisdom of the unknown that most humans--least of all, witches--would kill to understand. But he wasn't a creature right now. In fact, she marveled at what she considered the slightest peek into his humanity. A glimpse of vulnerability she savored like seeing a falling star. She wondered if he even meant for her to see such a thing. His beautiful eyes were full of a sadness that wasn't there before. "Never expected a reaper to quote Shakespeare."

Micah shrugged. "I happen to be quite the fan."

"I've never met a ghost. Could their condition be reversed?"

He put his hands in his pockets, and let his eyes rest upon her. "If someone, like a reaper, would find the lost soul and take them to the treasury, they would no longer be a ghost. They would be claimed by the light." He began to pace again, his nerves becoming shaky, unsure as he feared the conversation was moving far too much into a territory that felt all too personal. "It doesn't happen often because there are not enough of us to handle searching for them on top of collecting souls from our mission. And some souls, just don't want to be claimed."

"Have you ever rescued a soul like that?" Briseis stared up at him, curious beyond all reason if he had ever given in to mercy and did something outside his world of rules. "Saved a ghost?"

Micah rubbed the back of his neck, his nerves in knots. "Straying from your mission to chase ghosts are against Azrael's rules, Briseis. Besides, usually witches are the ones who meddle with the spiritual plane far more than they should." He folded his arms and stared at her.

Briseis straightened herself on the sofa. "Well, I hate to break it to ya, pal, but I'm not much of a witch. I don't know any spells, other witches don't like me and I don't even own a broom--I have a Swiffer. So there."

There was a glimpse of a smile on her face that allured Micah. A soft kindness hid behind her playfulness, and tried as he might, it was painfully hard to ignore. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit, Briseis. Being a witch is in your blood--it comes naturally--just like your necromancy. You didn't study for that. It's within you." He leaned against the wall and watched her. "With or without a Swiffer."

Before she could help herself, she laughed. "That's real cute. I just want to do what I can with what I've got, that's all."

"Save more lives?" Micah asked. It was more of a statement than a question.

She nodded. "Yeah. Maybe I can help those poor souls out there." She looked out to the window, then back at him. It was all she wanted--to give something beautiful to those that needed it. That deserved it. "Life. However you want to feel about it, is terribly precious. We complain until it's taken away from us. But let's face it, it's the most gorgeous gift someone could offer someone. That's why my job is so addictive. You have a chance--a real chance to save a life. How awesome is that?"

"It's fine when you do within the confines of the natural order."

Briseis scoffed. "Look at me. I can bring road kill back to life when I wasn't even old enough to drive." She looked at Osiris sit at the entry of the kitchen. "Sorry, O. You're not road kill anymore. Am I right?"

Osiris simply turned and walked off.

Briseis shook her head at her cat's dismissive behavior. "Ignore him. He's temperamental."

Micah moved to the other end of the sofa and waited till she folded her legs before sitting. "Tell me about Hal."

Briseis stopped sipping her coffee and set the mug down. Her body tensed as she slowly looked up at Micah. She slowly shook her head. "There's nothing to tell."

"Briseis," he sighed. "There's a mark on him, similar to the mark on your cat, Osiris. You can't see it, but reapers can. It's the mark left on a vessel when a reaper has taken its soul. It never goes away."

"Micah, don't--" Briseis began to shiver as the chill of Micah's aura along with her anxiety shifted through her body. She didn't want to explain it. She didn't want to talk about it. "Just don't."

"You brought him back, didn't you? Why?" Micah stared at her intently, desperately wanting to hear it from her own lips.

Her eyes darted to the cup then to her hands. Broken memories of that night began to surface and she clasped her hands together. "Don't hurt him, Micah. Please. " The sincerity and fear dripped from her plea and made Micah freeze. What was she afraid of?

"Briseis, I'm not going to hurt him. But I need to know the truth. You said you feel when bringing a soul back is right for you. Tell me what led you to revive Hal."

Briseis straightened her legs and put them both on the floor, no longer lounging in the sofa. She stared at her hands a long time before she took a deep breath to speak. "I could've taken any road that night. Any road. I just wanted to get out and go for a drive. That road led to the boonies, so it's not like traffic comes through there." Briseis clenched her hands tighter. "I wanted to look up at the stars, so I pulled over to gaze. Guess I was looking for answers I couldn't get elsewhere. Didn't have a reaper stalking me at that time, I guess." She gave a soft smile to herself. Then suddenly she sobered. "It wasn't peaceful and it wasn't quiet, because traffic did come through that night." Briseis closed her eyes and could still see the two trucks zooming by on the road. One in each lane as if to either race or flee.

Micah frowned. "What happened, Briseis?" He watched her as she seemed to slip into a trance.

"Two trucks zoomed by me. One catching up to the other."

"A race?"

Briseis' lips trembled. "No. Not a race." She took a deep breath. "One was trying to escape. He was trying to run away." She gritted her teeth as she remembered the hooting and shouting from the trucks. The ramming. "One truck was trying to hit the other. So much anger. Anger for someone he met for thirty seconds." Her voice was almost monotone as she spoke from memory and some other force within her that tried to fill the holes in her thoughts. "Metal crashing into metal. Swerve. Pray. Another crash into metal." Then without warning, Briseis pushed the mug off the table, letting it topple and smash onto her floor. A chill washed over her to uncomfortable proportions. Her breath escalating higher. Then silence.

"Then there was the crash."

Micah looked as her eyes watered. The comfort he felt when he was near her wavered and a pang hit him in the chest. Her heart was breaking. "Briseis...what did you see?"

"I couldn't see anything. Barely lights. But I heard the noise and I knew. I knew something had gone really wrong. I hopped in my car and drove to the crash, but there was only one truck. The one who couldn't get away. It was so mangled you could have sworn God himself balled it into a hunk of metal. The only light was the moon to shine on the wreck, the driver and all of the blood. "

"Hal was in the truck." Micah spoke in a soothing tone, trying not to break her trance.

Briseis tears streamed down her face. "He was so broken, I could barely tell he was human. I could barely grip his body, the blood was so slippery. I've seen some horrible things before in my life and my job, but nothing like this. At first glance, I thought he was dead. But as I tried to pull him, he muttered a sob. Not because of the pain he was in, but the confusion. Like how could this have happened to him? He didn't open his eyes, but with his last few breaths, he told his mother he loved her." Her voice began to break, putting her head down and Micah could see a teardrop fall and hit the floor.

She broke her hand clasp to wipe her face briefly. "Then he faded into my arms. Just like that. There I was. Helpless. Holding a broken man who didn't deserve it. He couldn't have." Finally, she turned and faced Micah. "You've met him briefly, but I've known him a lot longer. I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hurt him. Why? It just didn't make sense. It didn't feel right. I can still hear my wailing that night. I didn't know him, but it didn't matter. His life was extinguished and it just didn't make any sense."

"It's not about making sense, Briseis. A reaper was there to claim him."

"I figured the answer I was looking for had presented itself. I had this gift. This beautiful gift and it truly had a use. I put my hands over his stomach and willed everything I had into him. Everything that I could scrape up. Everything that I would've used to save my mother; I gave it to him. I put his broken body together. Pieced it and focused as much healing as I could. I delved deep into the darkness where his soul rested and retrieved it. The pain in my body wouldn't stop throbbing until he took his first breath." Tears in trails down her cheeks.

"I never resurrected anyone in that state before. It took more out of me than I can remember, but it was worth it, Micah." She turned at looked at him. "It was worth it to save someone like him." Her heart wrenching, Briseis felt her head began to echo the pain of that night. It sliced through her and she felt nauseous. Covering her mouth, she jumped up and ran to the bathroom. She slid to the cold tiles of the bathroom and pushing her hair to the side as she finally released the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Still crying, before Micah could get to the door, she used her long leg to kick the door shut.

###

So now we know why Bree gets those migraines. Her body went through the ringer saving Hal. I think she made the right choice as one could argue that without her intervention, the people that Hal saved on the job may not have lived. Do you think Micah's perception of Bree is changing? I think he expected her to be difficult because she had an ego, but she's nothing like that!

Thanks for all the support for this book! 5K READS !!! Woot!!