12. Mortem

“ E very single fucking cupid party, I swear,” Gloom complains. “I was tied up, on my knees and ready to?—”

Death nudges Gloom, who turns around and swallows thickly.

“Boss. Hey. Uh, I didn’t say any of that,” Gloom says. “Must have been Doom. Fucker is around here somewhere.”

“Are you also not guilty of gifting a cupid, whom you are not in a relationship with, items of a sexual nature?” I ask, cleaning off my cuffs.

Gloom clears his throat. Death shakes his head, walking away from the encounter. Death is a good reaper, one of the oldest, and he’s changed his ways. He’s with the interim Head Cupid. I wonder if he harbors resentment toward me and the way I’ve handled running Purgatory.

“To be fair, I purchased those prior to knowing if you and Krampus were coming to the party. Also, have you met my cupids? I’m certainly not the straying type, plus, Candy is like a baby sister to me.”

“You’d buy your baby sister sex toys?”

“Honestly, probably yes. Wait, she opened the box in front of you. That means you’re here, and she’s…”

“She’s safe at the North Pole with Krampus. Now, the sooner we handle cleanup, the sooner everyone can get back to their festivities,” I say, wanting him to fuck off and leave me alone for a few moments.

Instead, the handsome, too energetic reaper tilts his head at me.

“I know you’re not asking for advice.”

“I’m not,” I reply sharply.

“I also know you’re my boss and could decommission me at any moment. But Candy deserves the best. She holds a lot in. Sometimes you really have to take your time to get her to open up about how she’s really feeling. Her sweetness isn’t a weakness, and if I find out you hurt her again, well, I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I’m sure Ladybird will come up with something.”

I stare at him for a few long moments. I always wondered how he was sorted into my realm, but as I go over his words in my head, I understand. He may not be menacing, unemotional, or stunted. But what he lacks in the best reaper traits he makes up in ferocity and loyalty.

“My intention is to make sure Candy is never hurt again,” I reply easily, turning around and ending the conversation.

Suddenly Morticia pops into existence next to me, flipping through various papers.

“This is a logistical nightmare. Three reapers didn’t show after your summons,” she says, her lips tight with irritation.

“Summon them again, and in the meantime, I’ll take over their soul collection.”

Morticia’s deep brown eyes look at me in shock. “Peasant work?” she gasps and I sigh.

“It’s been awhile, yes. I think I need to reconnect with who I was all those years ago.”

“Hmm. I take it the party went well. Who would’ve guessed,” she says smugly.

“Yes, Morticia, you were right on this one.”

I glance around the space, seeing the devastation that surrounds us as reapers collect souls and usher them to their final resting place.

“I’ll summon the slackers. Would you like me to enact a certain punishment?”

Morticia looks more than eager to punish those who didn’t follow directions and her face falls as I shake my head.

“How do you feel about holding an event in Purgatory?” I ask.

She blinks slowly, like the words aren’t computing right away.

“What, like an exhibition of some sort?”

“No, like a New Year’s party.”

“New Year’s?” she repeats.

“Yes, the cupids have been so kind to invite us to their realm for multiple gatherings and holidays. Maybe it’s time we did the same for our realm.”

“I’m not planning some pink, bubblegum bullshit, Mortem, I refuse.”

I rub the bridge of my nose, wondering if I’m completely off base with this plan. But after my time with Candy, I realize this guilt I’ve been carrying is way too fucking heavy. It’s like I need to prove to myself and Candy that I’m capable of change, that the way I’ve been living doesn’t suffice.

The work starts within, righting my possible wrongs.

“Plan the event as you wish. A party that reapers would enjoy while also considering our guests. When I’m done here, I can create multiple single-use portals for the event.”

“If I would have known how much larger my workload would have increased in the pursuit of your romantic happiness, I wouldn’t have meddled,” she says, before popping back to Purgatory.

I ignore her dramatics as I approach a soul, an elderly woman, who looks at me with a gracious smile.

“Is it my time?” she asks.

“I fear it is,” I reply, holding out my hand.

“At least the man taking me to the golden gates is hot,” she replies.

The wispy nature of her soul no longer feels pain as she takes my hand.

“It’s just a shame I can’t live for a few more moments to brag about it to Hazel and Grace. They will probably have some rundown ugly motherfucker taking them to the afterlife. Where are we going, anyway?”

I glance down at the woman, stunned by her easy acceptance. Her path is clear. She’s meant for the good place.

“Somewhere good.”

“Is it where you all live? Do I spend my afterlife looking like this, or do I get to revert back to the hottest version of myself?” she asks.

“The afterlife is whatever you make it,” I tell her, believing the words as I say them.

It’s time I made the best of this one.