I was babbling, which made me feel even goofier than normal.
The man, who looked to be in his early thirties, with brown hair and eyes, smirked as he met my gaze. “We know who you are. The home office supplied us with a photograph so we wouldn’t accidentally invite the wrong person behind the safety doors.”
“That would be bad,” the red-headed woman offered, her grin pleasant and inviting. “Can you imagine some poor soul visiting the snakes and instead getting a gander at the gate? That wouldn’t go over well.”
“Definitely not,” I agreed, struggling to remain calm. I still didn’t have names to go with their faces, and because the home office hadn’t supplied me with personnel records (saying I could simply look over whatever files I needed when I arrived), I felt out of place. “And you are?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The man wiped his hand on his hip and extended it in my direction. “I’m Oliver Samuelson. This is Renee DuBois. I guess you could say we’re your team, but we have seasonal helpers once May rolls around, too.”
“They’re usually from the local reaper academy,” Renee volunteered helpfully. “They’re fun because they have a lot of energy and we can give them the crappy shifts.”
“Oh, well, that sounds fun.” I accepted Oliver’s hand, furrowing my brow at its coldness. “We don’t get a lot of heat back here, huh? I should remember to bring a hoodie next time.”
“Definitely,” Oliver agreed, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He was unbelievably handsome, ridiculously so, but I didn’t get a sexual vibe from him. He was essentially an emotionless void, which was a unique experience. “Fingerless gloves might come in handy, too. It’s not bad in the summer — actually it’s nice in the summer because we can cool off down here — but it gets uncomfortable in the winter.”
“I’ll make a mental note of it.”
“There’s plenty of shopping in the area,” Renee supplied. “Although I’d recommend heading to Royal Oak if you want to do it right.”
“I’m familiar with Royal Oak.”
“You are?”
“I grew up in the area.” I licked my lips as I flicked my eyes to the whispering gate. I heard the voices even clearer today, and instead of giving me chills as it would normal people, I enjoyed the sound. “I spent several years here as a child, in fact.”
“Oh, right.” Realization dawned on Oliver’s face. “Your parents were killed during the incident twenty years ago. That was a breach, right?”
I never really considered it a breach, so I bristled at the word. “I don’t know if that is how I would describe it.”
“How else could you describe it?”
“I ... .” I trailed off, uncertain how to answer. In truth, I had no idea how to refer to it.
“We were always told that something managed to escape from the other side, and that’s what killed your parents,” Renee explained. “Somehow you managed to escape, although that part of the tale is hazy.”
It was hazy in more ways than one. I didn’t remember much about the incident. I simply remembered a dark shadow appearing out of nowhere, the certainty that I was going to die taking over, and then the screaming. I had no idea why the creature screamed the way it did, but I could never forget that sound. After that, I woke in the hospital and knew my life would never be the same.
I shook my head to dislodge the memory. I didn’t like dwelling on it. My grandfather was big on focusing on things I could change and letting go of what I couldn’t. The gaps from back then were profound. The puzzle was missing far too many pieces to compile a complete picture.
“I don’t really remember.” I felt uncomfortable given the woman’s scrutiny. “I was young.”
“Of course you were.” Oliver made a sympathetic sound with his tongue and I didn’t miss the warning look he shot Renee. “But now you’re back. How was your first night on the island?”
“It was ... quiet,” I hedged. “I’m not used to things being so quiet.”
“That will change once the weather improves.”
“I don’t mind the quiet,” I added hurriedly. “I’m just not used to it.”
“You’ll come to relish the quiet,” Renee said as she sat at a nearby computer and typed something into the running program. “The Grimlocks just sent eight souls at once. I wish they would stop doing that.”
Distracted, Oliver moved to stand behind Renee and study the computer screen. “Those are probably the souls they forgot to send last night. We need to check them against the list.” He grabbed a clipboard from the top of the filing cabinet pressed against the wall and focused. “Read them off to me.”
“Mark Lincoln. Emily Vanderbilt. Marla Porter.”
“That’s them.” Oliver started checking off names as my curiosity got the better of me and I shuffled closer. “All eight are accounted for. That means we won’t have to fill out paperwork. I’m glad we waited before sounding the alarm last night.”
I was confused. “I don’t understand,” I said finally. “I thought the reapers had to send their souls on the day the orders were issued. Are you saying this family ... these Grimlocks ... aren’t doing it in a timely fashion?”
“Oh, well ... .” Oliver shifted from one foot to the other as he looked at Renee for backup. “The thing is, the Grimlocks aren’t always on time.”
“And why is that?”
“They’ve had a lot going on the last couple years.”
That sounded like an excuse. “So they have permission to send their souls late?”
“No.” Oliver dragged a restless hand through his dark hair, the vein on his forehead standing out before his bangs dropped to cover it. “They don’t often send souls late. But it does happen occasionally. My understanding is that they took out a nest of wraiths yesterday. They probably got distracted by that.”
“Their main job is to collect souls,” I persisted, refusing to back down. “How could they forget the most important part of their job? If they don’t send the souls to us, they’re trapped in limbo. Last time I checked, that’s not a good thing.”
Renee wrinkled her nose as she stared down at her rather impressive cleavage. I could practically see her mind working. “The thing is ... we kind of cover for one another out here. This is a different environment from what you’re probably used to.”
That definitely sounded like an excuse. “If they’re not doing their jobs that reflects poorly on all of us.”
“They do their jobs.”
“You just said they didn’t.”
“That’s not what I said,” Oliver countered. “The Grimlocks are the best reaping family we have. They’re simply ... distracted ... on a regular basis.”
I had no idea what that meant. “Distracted how?”
“It’s the wraiths.” Oliver was clearly choosing his words carefully because he seemed to be struggling. “We have more wraiths in this area than almost anywhere else in the country. Although, to be fair, I think you had your fair share in New Orleans, too, after Katrina. The difference is when the people returned to New Orleans, the wraiths fled.”