Death stopped by a homeless man who had frozen to death on the sidewalk, and listened to his curses until he had calmed down and composed himself. Before she could take his hand, however, one of the restless dead lurched down the street towards them, groaning horribly.
A man in an expensive business suit was shuffling towards them. His eyes were glazed and specks of blood dotted the lapels of his shirt. His mouth was a dark, ragged hole and most of the back of his skull was missing.
"Good Lord! What in God's name is that thing?" yelled the homeless man, diving to one side and attempting to hide behind a trash can.
"Not to worry Mr. Grant, I'll take care of this," said Death, raising her arms. Before she could do anything however, a powerful shout behind the walking corpse made it stop in its tracks and look around.
"Oi, you! I can see you, dead man walking! Get out of here and don't bother him. You heard me, get lost!"
To Death's amazement, Jamie Keane was striding forward without any apparent fear of the restless dead man in front of him. It leered at Jamie, who stared back with deliberate poise. The man suddenly lurched forward and grabbed the front of Jamie's jacket. His only response was to grasp the man's arm and firmly wrench it away from himself. The suicide looked shocked, insofar as much as he could look with half his face gone, and shambled off again.
"Suicide, I'll bet. Some of these big business types don't know how to deal with high stakes. At least, when they're winning everything's fine. It's the losing they have trouble with. Oh, you're back. I was wondering when I'd see you again. Nice hat."
"Um, hi Jamie," said Death. She adjusted her deep purple silk top hat, settling it more firmly on her hair. "Are you okay?"
"Aside from the fact that I'm dead? Yeah, I'm all right, I suppose. It hasn't been much fun, though. I quickly found out what you meant by the restless dead. I feel like I'm trapped in Resident Evil part six. Then I found myself wondering when a freaky little girl with psychic powers or a huge badass with a sword as long as my arm and a pyramid for a head would show up," Jamie quipped, mentally kicking himself at the lameness of his joke.
"They wouldn't be here, they're elsewhere-" began Death, not noticing the way Jamie's face suddenly blanched with shock at her words. But before she could go further, the homeless man had recovered and interrupted her.
"Thank you young man, you got rid of that demon sure enough. And now miss, what happens next?"
"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Grant. Take my hand."
The man hesitated, but then grasped Death's hand firmly. He faded, and then vanished. She noted that she appeared to be at the exact same traffic junction where she had left Jamie on the pavement all those weeks ago. Night had fallen, and the stars were beginning to shine where New York's cloudy night sky had cleared in places.
Jamie faced her, hands stuck deep into the pockets of his jeans. Death discreetly observed him. He didn't appear to be suffering from any intense stress or fear.
"Why didn't I end up like them?" asked Jamie. "I mean, if I'd looked like how I did at the moment of my own death I'd probably be a puddle of blood or something."
Once again, Death was impressed. Jamie was remarkably quick on the uptake, although he admittedly had a few weeks to think over his new circumstances. She was more surprised that he had managed to resist becoming insane and savage like the other restless dead, over such a long period of time.
"You look like how you expect yourself to look. That guy was probably thinking of his own death so intensely before he pulled the trigger that he's carried that image of himself over to this side. He's another one who doesn't want to move on, but there's little good he can hope to do here. I try to help them, of course, but they just won't listen."
"Was that comment meant for me?" said Jamie lightly.
"Was it?" Death countered. "It might have been. It's awful hard to keep hold of your own identity for more than a few days. You might turn into one of them. Even if you don't, I just don't see what you'll hope to achieve by staying on. There's nothing left here for you, Jamie."
"You know, you were right," said Jamie, unexpectedly changing tack. "I went back and tried to see my mom and Jeff, but no matter what I did they couldn't see or hear me. I wish I could have said something to them. Mom broke down, just collapsed. I mean, after my dad and Joey…I thought she could handle just about anything. She's so strong. But this thing was just too much for her. She hasn't been to work in days."
Jamie paused for a while before continuing.
"Jeff was great though. He tried to calm mom down and comforted her and everything. He didn't even cry, and he's just thirteen. He's all that she has left, she can't lose him too. But he can't keep this up forever, he's just a kid. He's just a goddamn kid."
"You don't know that. Maybe Jeff can take it. It's hard, but as far as I know he comes from a pretty tough family. He might be able to take on the responsibility once he's had some time to adjust. There might not be anything else you can do for him," Death said. She noticed he didn't say anything about his girlfriend.
Jamie looked ready to argue, and then the fight went out of his eyes. He nodded resignedly.
"So, that's it then? I just take your hand and vanish? So long and thanks for all the fish?"
"Adams. Great writer."
"Oh, you like him too? He's fantastic."
"Yeah. Nice guy. We had a very enjoyable discussion about what became of Marvin the Paranoid Android."
"You've met him – oh, right. Of course you did."
"I'll say this for Adams," said Death, smiling slightly. "He didn't waste half as much time as you did taking my hand."
"It's a nice hand."
"Thank you. I think so too."
"The thing about taking your hand...and don't get me wrong, I've thought hard about this, is that once I do it, it'll all be over for me."
"Not necessarily."
"Didn't you say that whatever I believe, that's what will happen to me?"
"I did?"
"You see, if that's true, it really will be all over for me. I never had much truck with religion before."
"So what you're saying is…"
"It's oblivion for me. Zero zip nada. Infinite nothing, forever and ever. And Jesus Christ, that sucks hard."
"I'm not sure that's what will happen. And I thought you said you didn't believe in religion."
"It was an expression."
"Maybe you could try getting religion now?"
"What, when I'm right at death's door? I don't think God will like that very much."
"I thought you said-"
"Expression!"
"I know, I know. Just messin' with you."
"Real funny."
They lapsed into comfortable silence. It wasn't awkward, and Jamie was amazed at that simple fact. He felt as though he'd known this pretty young girl for years and years. He'd had friends whom he had not talked as much with as he had just done with her.
"So if you won't take my hand, and you don't want to stay here, what do you want to do?" Death asked reasonably. She took off her hat and tucked it under her arm.
"What if I work for you?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Death asked incredulously.
"Give me a minute, just hear me out. There must have been other people who have tried this sort of thing. People who've made bargains with Death and so on? I mean, if you're real then maybe some of those old stories are real too."
"You've been reading way too much medieval literature."
"But there have been others, right?"
Death blew her fringe out of her face in exasperation. She thought of an English villager whom she had not taken, as a favor to her brother long ago. She thought of her nephew and his doomed love. She thought of two dead English schoolboys. She thought of a young lesbian mother and the deal she had agreed to recently. It was similar, or at least the intent was similar. To save a loved one. It had ended well enough, she supposed. But Jamie was asking a lot and she didn't know if she could grant what he asked for.
"Let me just be clear on this. When you say work with me, what exactly do you mean?"
Jamie had noticed her hesitation and responded enthusiastically. "I knew it! There have been others who've asked for the same thing. I'm offering to do more. I'll work for you, I'll help you in any way I can. I don't want to move on without having accomplished something with my life. That's all I'm asking. That's what I promise."
"You're kidding me."
"Not even a little."
Now Death wasn't exasperated at all. She was stunned. In all her long years, not one being had ever offered to work for her. Asked favours, yes, but not to help her undertake her duties. It had never occurred to her to share her immense duties and responsibilities with someone else, let alone a mere mortal from this young planet. The job took a lot out of you, and it had taken several million years before she taught herself to find satisfaction in what she did. It was tough, but she had gotten there in the end. She shuddered as she remembered the person she had been before. Arrogant with the power she wielded, cold with the secret knowledge she possessed. She feared something like that would happen to Jamie. She would not allow it to happen.
"You're asking me to give you a job? My job? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?"
"No!" sputtered Jamie, and winced when he saw Death's eyes widen at the force of his response. "I mean, I know it's a lot to ask but I can't just let it all end here. Please, I need to do this."
Death thought it over some more. It would be nice to have someone around to talk to. As great as they were, Slim and Wandsworth were not excellent conversationalists. She wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, not even her brother, but her house did get a little lonely at times with no one around. She didn't have much free time, but it would have been nice to spend the time she was at home hanging out with a friend.
And there was the job. She didn't think about it much, but the job really weighed on her mind sometimes. It was one reason she loved her once a century incarnations and looked forward to each one eagerly. It was a chance for her to get away from it all and just take a break from overseeing the multiverse.
Jamie was watching her carefully. Death weighed everything up, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. Maybe it was time to take a risk. Jamie had proven himself capable of resisting the worst horrors of what death could throw at him. What's the worst that could happen?
"You're serious about this, aren't you. I mean, you really are. You really want to work with me." It wasn't a question.
"I do. Please believe me."
"I believe you," Death said softly. "It's just…I don't know if I can do this. There are rules. Boundaries. Things that not even I can just wave aside."
"I don't want you to overstep anything for me. I just thought that if it was in any way possible…"
There was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind. It was her family. Her younger brother, and all the problems he had with mortals. Her younger twin siblings, and what they would say and do once they found out. Her other younger brother, who had felt the weight of his responsibilities far too keenly and elected to leave it all behind. She hadn't begrudged him for his decision, but lately she wondered if she was headed down that path herself. She didn't think she ever would abandon her job completely, but it wasn't too much to ask for a little help. Was it?
And there was the question of her elder brother. But she could deal with that when the time came.
"Jamie Keane."
"Yes?"
"Right now, at this moment...what do you really believe in?"
"Me? When it comes down to it...I believe in you. I don't exactly know what's happened to me, or what's going to happen next. Maybe I'm not even dead yet and all this is just some random hallucination from my dying brain. But I don't believe that. The fact that you're here in front of me, talking to me shows there is so much to the universe that I don't understand. I believe now that death is not the end."
Death smiled.
"Good answer."
"What happens now? Do I have to perform some sort of dark ritual, shed blood maybe, chant something in Latin?"
"Ew, gross! Nothing like that, and Latin isn't all it's cracked up to be. Just take my hand," Death said, and winced as she realised her mistake. Jamie was looking askance at her. "I wouldn't trick you like that. I'm not going to cross you over, I'm taking you back to my place for now. It's been a really long day and I need to get some shut-eye."
"You sleep?" asked Jamie, slipping his hand in hers without further complaint. Her skin was almost unnaturally smooth, but warm as well. It was the first bit of warmth Jamie had felt since dying.
"Whenever I get the chance, which admittedly isn't all that often," said Death, gracefully ascending up into the night sky. It was rather like climbing an invisible staircase. Jamie trailed after her, holding on to her hand. He wasn't dangling by her arm, but he wasn't floating either. It was as if he had the same ability to fly himself, and was merely following wherever she went.
"Hold on. This might get rough."
With a rush of wind and a deafening noise that shrilled in his ears, Jamie and Death disappeared from New York. The dimensions swirled around them, and Death moved in and out of each one as quickly and as easily as a fireman hopping down the rungs of a ladder. She didn't spare them a second glance, but instead looked at Jamie. His face was rapt with wide-eyed wonder. No mortal had ever seen all of the planes of existence as quickly as he had, but he was still fascinated by each brief fleeting image as they flashed before his eyes.
A hammer blow rocked Jamie's body, and he was suddenly in the void between the worlds. He shivered uncontrollably, his teeth clattering together and his face turning blue. Even though he had felt the cold touch of death, it was nothing compared to the absolute freezing nothingness of the void. Death frowned and waved her fingers in a complex pattern. Great swathes of darkness appeared out of nowhere and enveloped Jamie, shielding him from the terrible cold. It was as warm as a heavy winter jacket and had a velvety texture when Jamie stroked it.
"I'm sorry about that," said Death. She spoke in her normal tone, but it somehow cut through the howl of the winds easily and Jamie heard her perfectly. "Are you alright?"
Jamie couldn't answer, but he was shivering less violently. He managed a ghost of a grin.
Seconds later they touched down on soft grass. The wind had died down and the scent of flowers filled the air. Death's realm looked an awful lot like the English countryside to Jamie. He had been there once with his family, when it was still whole and unbroken. A full two weeks of camping out on hills and eating at small inns and townhouses, getting "Back to Nature", as his dad had put it.
"Yes sir, nothing like Nature."
"Nature, Bob?" Jamie's mom said, with feigned annoyance. "All I see are boring hills with no shops in sight. We should have spent some more time in London."
"Now Julia, you know this is so much better. Fresh air, clean grass, good simple food. Everything a man could hope for."
"How about TV, beer and pizza delivered to your doorstep?" she retorted, grinning wickedly at her sons.
"Yeah dad, I thought we were going to spend some time in a hotel," Joey piped up. Julia gave him a discreet low five.
"All right, all right. We'll check into one tomorrow. But we're sleeping on the ground tonight!" Robert Keane declared and was immediately tackled by his three sons, laughing as he went under a pile of tangled arms and legs. Julia fumbled for her camera and snapped off a shot, capturing the moment. Jamie had noticed the same photograph sticking out of his dad's wallet some time later. He carried it wherever he went.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Death asked, looking curiously at him.
"It's nothing," Jamie said, fighting a wave of emotion that always hit him when he thought of his family. "Um, this might be a stupid question, but what should I call you? I mean, how do I address you?"
"That's interesting," mused Death, setting off through the grass. "I've never really thought about it before. My siblings usually call me elder or younger sister as the case might be, and the Eremite clan has all sorts of nasty names for me, but I've never been around someone long enough to need a name on a regular basis, you know? Even Death doesn't sound exactly right, it's more like my job description. It's also not the only thing I do in the course of my work."
Siblings? Eremite clan? Jamie was struggling to keep up.
Death thought of a young man named Sexton, and remembered the wonderful day they had shared together. She had a name then, and although it wasn't her real one she supposed it would serve.
"Tell you what," she said brightly, striding steadily through the grass. "You can call me Didi."
"Didi. I like it."
They reached her house. Jamie stopped and stared.
"This is where you live?"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, but if someone had asked me what Death's house looked like, this wouldn't be what I expected!"
"Why, what were you expecting?"
"A huge castle, maybe. A mausoleum. A necropolis. Something like Minas Morgul."
"Seriously? Would you want to live in any of those places?"
"Well no..."
"That's right. Neither do I. Besides, it's a lot easier to maintain, and a huge castle would look pretty silly considering I'm the only one around, wouldn't it?"
They reached her house, and once again Jamie was struck by how normal it seemed. This time he was strongly reminded of Kansas, or one of those Midwestern states where a single house would stand in the middle of endless fields, far as the eye could see. Although there didn't seem to be a setting sun in the sky, the light was fading fast. Death pushed the door open and motioned for Jamie to come in.
Jamie hung up his jacket on a stand in the corner (he was still wearing the clothes he had on at the time of his death) and took his first look around. A long, low red couch sat in front of a quaint brick fireplace, the type you see in English townhouses. A goldfish bowl sat on a cream-coloured coffee table. A couple of bookcases stood near the couch, the shelves filled with an eclectic mix of books of every language. The kitchen was set in one corner, with a small dining table in the middle. A few paintings hung on the walls, along with what looked like a group snapshot of Death and six other individuals. An open cupboard under the staircase caught Jamie's eye, it appeared to be stuffed with a huge collection of black and purple floppy hats. Apart from the conspicuous lack of electrical appliances (Jamie couldn't see a TV or a computer anywhere, although there was a CD player on a side table and electric lights brightened up the cozy little place), it looked exactly like a normal place of residence for a single young woman.
He immediately felt much more comfortable. As strange as it seemed, the little house already felt like home to him.
"Just hang your stuff up anywhere. Take your shoes off, please. Guest bedroom's upstairs on the right, Death said, climbing up the stairs to her room.
"Okay. See you in the morning." Jamie pulled off his trainers and lowered himself down onto the couch, letting his breath out in one long, exhausted sigh. When he heard the soft click of Death's bedroom door, when he was certain that no one could see him, he buried his face in his hands and wept silently, for the final time, for his mother and brother and the family he had lost.