When Death's Away Read online

  When Death’s Away

  On Behalf of Death, book 4

  E.G. Stone

  Tarney Brae Creative Endeavours

  Copyright © 2021 by E.G. Stone

  A Tarney Brae Creative Endeavours Production

  Cover design by Fay Lane

  Edits by Michael Evan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For the coffee drinkers and the tea snobs

  Contents

  1. Vacation for Death

  2. Death Takes a Holiday

  3. Learning How to Die

  4. Died of Boredom

  5. Fear of Death

  6. The Next Great Adventure

  7. Veil of Death

  8. Death is for the Dead

  9. Death is the Universal Cure

  10. Bribing Death

  11. Everyone Dies

  12. Cheating Death

  13. A Swift Death

  14. You Only Die Once

  15. A Merciful Death

  16. Return to Life

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by E.G. Stone

  Vacation for Death

  I discovered that preparing for dinner with a djinn while also experiencing "phantom soul syndrome" was like an exercise in herding cats, while blind, with catnip smeared all over. Essentially, it was more or less a disaster.

  My name is Cal Thorpe, I work for Death, and honestly, things are as confusing as they seem.

  Neja was a djinn with whom I had struck a bargain about a week ago to have dinner. In exchange for helping me undo a death curse, I would invite her over to dinner. Of course, the wish had gone terribly wrong and we had accidentally released Al Capone on the streets of Modern day Chicago, but it all had worked out. Mostly. Now it was my turn to fulfil my end of the bargain. Initially, I thought it was meant to be some sort of date, but things went wonky as they were wont to do, and I was left entirely unsure as to whether or not she was actually interested in me, whether I was fulfilling some sort of weird elsewhere bargain, or if I had just misunderstood the entire situation. The logical part of my personality that took over when my emotions were nonfunctional decided that it was even odds to any of the options.

  The hard part, though, was not determining the motives behind Neja's scheduled dinner, but sorting through my ever shifting emotions and thoughts to try and concentrate long enough to actually cook food. See, Death had lost my soul a while back, and the temporary arrangement in which I borrowed Al Capone's soul so that I wouldn't become an emotionless zombie or some sort of psychopath or hyperrational Vulcan had failed. Badly. However, as a result of some strange connection with Al Capone’s soul, I was experiencing what Death called “phantom soul syndrome.” This basically meant that I would occasionally feel surges of emotion that would make things seem almost, well, normal certainly wasn't the right word. These brief moments of emotional activity were usually very strong and unpredictable. But they kept me close enough to human that I wasn't going to fall into any of the traps that being soulless might cause.

  It also meant that I had a strange obsession with very simple things. Coffee was a sure bet to making me experience ecstatic joy. Spoons had become the bane of my existence. And I was absolutely fascinated by the camera on my phone, which resulted in me taking rather a lot of pictures and then subsequently posting them on social media for all of Elsewhere to peruse. My series on my shoes had got quite a lot of interest.

  The rest of the time, I was more or less apathetic about things. Though, I will admit to a few introspective moments in the middle of the night when I realised that my existence was a strange one. Very strange.

  Then again, I shouldn't have expected any different considering that I was Death's marketing agent. One must expect a certain amount of strangeness when working for Death.

  The doorbell rang and I paused for a moment, considering the sound. It occurred to me that I hadn't actually ever heard my doorbell ringing before. I lived in a building that was both home and office. The office occupied the bottom floor of the old world style building, made of stone and ivy. The interior of my office was thoroughly modern, excepting the desks for myself, Yolanda my assistant, and Agravane a junior marketing agent with my firm. My living space occupied the rest of the building, and it was anything but modern. Death had furnished it with belongings from my old home in the mortal realms and then added a few extra pieces. The result was something between truly elegant leather and wood furnishings and eclectic comfort. I had bookshelves along the walls, a large television sitting before a massive sprawling sofa, rugs on the wood floors, pictures from my past life on one wall and photographs from my new life on another. It was a wonderful space, in my estimation, even considering the lack of emotional connection I felt to it at the moment. But I had never actually heard the doorbell ring. That struck me as odd. Was I really that isolated? Did I really have no one to invite over?

  The doorbell rang again and I blinked.

  "Uh, Cal?" Yolanda stuck her head out from the kitchen where she had been helping me prepare food. She had offered her services after my first attempt had made the entire building smell like burnt toast. She was wearing an apron covered in yellow duckies that she had stolen from me. It didn't quite fit her rock troll frame, but I wasn't going to say anything. Not when she was helping me with cooking. "Maybe you should go answer the door?"

  "Yes, I should go answer the door." I turned and walked to the door, opening the solid hickory slab and rather thought my jaw should drop at the sight that met me. Since it was just a thought, not an actual motion, I just put on a theoretically pleasant smile. "I believe that you look quite good."

  Neja smirked. She was not tall, as you saw with most immortal or magical beings in Elsewhere, but she was possessed of that same immortal grace and elegance. She was well muscled, with blue grey skin and silvery white hair that was, at the moment, tucked up with a pair of chopsticks. She wore, instead of the sleeveless jumpsuit that I had first seen her in, a pair of full leather leggings and a flowy black shirt. She didn't wait for me to invite her in, which was good since I didn't think that I was emotionally capable enough to consider such a politeness. She took in my living space, turning around in a neat circle, and nodded.

  "Nice digs," she said. There was something hesitant in her voice that told me perhaps she was uncomfortable or uncertain of what should happen next. To be fair, I was also uncertain as to what should happen next, but that was partly because I was not entirely certain what the event for tonight was.

  "Before I invite you in to eat, I wish to ask for clarifications that I may understand the appropriate way to act for this evening. Is this a fulfillment of an obligation? Or was this meant to be more along the lines of a date? Understanding the answer to that question will allow me to act more appropriately. Your hair smells nice." The last statement surprised me a little, but not hugely. Impulse control was currently not my best ability. Emotions and thoughts sprang into my head like flashes of lightning, and there was nothing the logical side of me could do to stop them.

  "I'm sorry, what?" This time, she did not wince, she smiled. I found that sight to be sufficiently distracting enough that I didn't answer her question.

  Yolanda shuffled out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on the yellow ducky apron. Her greenish skin was smeared with a little sauce right above her left cheek bone, but she did not seem to notice. She shuffled over and bobbled her head at Neja. "You are the djinn who helped save Cal in Chicago."


  "Well, if he were acting normally, I'm not sure Cal would agree that I saved him. But I will accept that explanation. I'm Neja." Neja held out her hand for Yolanda to shake, and my assistant took it gladly. In fact, Yolanda was fairly beaming. As she was generally a cheerful sort, I did not attribute any special significance to this.

  "I am Yolanda. Cal is my boss. And no, he is not acting normally. His unusualness has got a bit worse. He lost his soul, which you well know, and now he is experiencing strange bouts of emotional episodes interspersed with apathetic, logical episodes. If you wish to get him interested in the conversation, you should discuss coffee."

  I ignored Yolanda's hand placed sympathetically on my shoulder and instead seized upon the most wonderful substance in the world. "I got this new coffee from the Yucatán, imported from the mortal realms, and it is roasted to perfection. There's just a hint of cinnamon in it, but enough robustness to really get you going in the morning. Agravane told me that there was a coffee growing enclave somewhere in Elsewhere, but he refuses to tell me where for fear that I will go there and demand to not only taste everything but also possibly move there. I think that might not be such a bad idea, actually as—"

  Neja put a hand over my mouth, effectively stopping my discussion of the most wonderful substance in the world. "Yeah, we won’t be discussing that. Are the symptoms getting at all clear? Are they telling you where his soul is?"

  Yolanda shook her head. "No, not even Death can find his soul right now. It remains a mystery. Now," Yolanda said with a flourish, clapping her hands together, "I am going to pull the pot roast out of the oven and you can enjoy your dinner."

  "Great. Thank you." Neja turned to me and twined her arm through mine, leading me over to the first bookshelf. "How about a tour?"

  "I can provide you with all of the pertinent information in the form of the tour. However, I feel that I should perhaps ask once again for further clarification on what the expectations for this evening are, so that I can act appropriately." The joy that had come with the discussion of coffee was now replaced by something more calm, steady. It wasn't quite pure hyper-rationality, nor was it distinct interest. It was just a smoothness that was mildly relieving from the roller coaster of the day’s emotions. Neja patted my arm and turned her attention to the books, the first shelf being nonfiction memoirs and biographies, as well as some discussions on the theoretical principles of time, acquired after my run in with that very being. None of them quite captured his essence.

  "If it were anybody else, I would say you're trying to take the mystery out of things. But, it would be my lot to be interested in someone who physically cannot be interested back. At least not yet. How about this: we get through tonight by having pleasant conversation over Yolanda's pot roast, and then we reevaluate the potential implications of a relationship some time in the future."

  Neja plucked a discussion of Socrates from the shelf and did not meet my gaze. I took a moment to consider, trying to understand what it was that her words actually meant.

  "You wish to date me, but not as my current self? Is it because of my lack of emotional response?" The larger part of me simply sought to understand, while a smaller part flinched away in hurt. Objectively speaking, Neja was the first female of any sort that I had, well, dated for lack of a better word, since about two years before entering into the service of Death. I knew that my life now stretched almost endlessly before me as I was an immortal, but there was a tug of… loneliness, perhaps, that pulled at me at Neja's words.

  "I simply think you need to get a handle on things before trying to invest yourself into something else," Neja said. She replaced the book and looked at me with disinterest in her eyes. The smile she wore was polite. "Now, tell me Cal, how has your training with Agravane been progressing? I believe he promised to whip you into shape so that you might defend yourself against any future attacks. I mean, just because you can't die doesn't mean that you shouldn't be able to defend yourself, right?"

  The brief touch of loneliness or sadness or whatever it was that tightened my throat vanished. I launched into a discussion of the logical merits of learning to defend myself, as well as a discussion of my previous physical exercise experiences, why it was that I was currently having difficulties reconciling my level of capability with that which Agravane demanded of me, as well as a discussion of various ways that humans were naturally much weaker than many of the beings in Elsewhere.

  This discussion, and Neja's input on weaponry and various forms of martial arts, lasted throughout dinner. I did not have time to dwell on what my various emotional responses meant, nor did I feel another surge, though I did avoid my spoon studiously.

  By the time Neja left, I felt that I had performed sufficiently well in my dinner host capacity. We mentioned the possibility of seeing each other soon, shook hands, and then she laughed. The door clicked closed behind her and I felt a momentary shortness of breath, and an urge to sigh, neither of which made logical sense. I turned and trudged over to my couch, sitting and experiencing immediate relief as my muscles relaxed.

  "How was your dinner?"

  I lifted my head and looked at Death, his sudden and impossible appearance doing absolutely nothing to surprise me. I'd had three days of simply settling down back to my normal marketing work, despite the fact that he had promised to speak with me about a holiday of some sort. I'd known that we would be having a conversation soon. I also knew that Death could appear wherever he wished, and that, generally speaking, the respect for his people's privacy kept him from doing just that. However, Death was also aware that I did not particularly have any emotional investment in whether or not my lodgings were private at the moment, so the fact that he had appeared there was not entirely unexpected. Also, he had a previous habit of expressing curiosity in things, so coming to ask me about my evening with the djinn fit perfectly.

  Mostly, though, I did not currently have the capacity to be surprised.

  "I believe she was, how do you say, testing the waters as it were. She seemed interested in potentially pursuing a relationship with me, but not in my current state of being. As a result, we discussed my training with Agravane in self-defence matters, and she went on her way." I lay my head back on the arm of the couch.

  "I'm sorry. I imagine it would be considerably different if you had a soul. Many immortal beings do not have one and do not understand why it is that humans require them. I believe our djinn should be truly intrigued by you. But, she is also a slave to her nature and will go where the desire lives." Death’s voice didn't sound sympathetic, but his words did sort of provide comfort. Or at least, they would not have provided comfort had I been in a position to receive comfort.

  "I imagine she and I will cross paths again in the future. As it stands currently, my most logical course of action would be to continue to work here and to train with Agravane, while also searching for clues as to the whereabouts of my soul. On a related note, do you think that the unevenness in my emotions will smooth out?" I lifted my head to look at Death, taking in his impeccably tailored pinstripe three-piece suit, the pocket square, today a pale lavender that matched the sprig tucked into his buttonhole. He lifted a hand, blacker than night and wreathed in shadow, the digits thin and capable. He wobbled it side to side, a nonverbal expression of "so-so".

  "This is all quite new to me. I do not know whether or not your motions will stabilise, as you are not currently with your soul, nor are you growing a new one as it were. You are experiencing the memory of something that is no longer there. It is possible it will fade again, but I'm unsure. However, that is not why I came to see you tonight, nor is your dinner with Neja the reason. The state of your relationships has no bearing on the current situation. It is, in fact, your soullessness that I require."

  Seized by sudden curiosity, I scrambled to a sitting position and stared wide-eyed at Death. My mouth hung open and I ran through the possibilities of what that statement might mean. Death chuckled at my obvious interest, the sound on
ly piquing my curiosity more. The sensation floated through me, tingling in my veins and making my mouth dry in anticipation.

  "I am going on holiday, and I need someone to… fill in for me while I am gone."

  Death stared at me, the voids that were his eyes seeming to shimmer with some hidden light, a strange humour flashing there for a moment. It took me a few seconds, coming off of the emotional rush as I was, to understand the logical implications of his words.

  Death was going on holiday. And he needed me to act for him while he was gone. He wanted me to be Death. Oh yes, this would end spectacularly.

  I burst out laughing.

  Death Takes a Holiday

  It took longer than it should have for me to stop laughing. By the time I had got whatever emotion that was under control, my eyes were watering and my belly was sore. I straightened up on the couch and wiped the moisture from my eyes, replacing my glasses on my nose.

  "I apologise about that, but apparently I found it to be a rather and amusing suggestion." I blinked and looked at Death, waiting for him to say something about how it had simply been a test condition, an attempt to see whether or not my emotional responses were spontaneous or to do with familiar things, like coffee. Oh, coffee, how I long for it. Slightly bitter tasting on my tongue, the heat filled me with caffeine—

  "I assure you, I was not making a joke. I am quite serious." Death tilted his head to watch me, but I didn't exhibit anymore unusual emotional responses. I did, however, exhibit a certain amount of technical confusion at the statement. I waited for Death to explain. He took a breath and shook his head, letting it out slowly. It was a weary sigh, one born from eons of dealing with beings who could not even fully understand him. Or perhaps that was a part of me trying something on to him that he did not feel. I much preferred to stick to known facts.