Chapter 2

2

TATIANA

T here was a sharp tug that she felt through her entire body, a rush of air that blurred her vision and roared in her ears, and then Tati found herself standing in what looked like a corner office in a high-rise. Floor to ceiling windows revealed an endless urban sprawl of buildings, towers, and lights.

"Welcome to the Afterworld," the cloak-man was saying, although he was currently in the process of removing said cloak, revealing a tall, slender body dressed in a finely made charcoal gray suit over a black turtleneck. He was the refined kind of beautiful that made Tati think of a melancholy, aloof, Oxford scholar shut away with his books. Everything about him was graceful — his long fingers, the way he moved like a dancer, even the swoop of his impossibly black hair.

"Are you wearing a turtleneck?" The dog-man had made himself at home in a large leather chair beside a low, round table that was scattered with a collection of brochures. His entire face transformed as a fond smile curved his mouth. "I like it."

The cloak-man hung up his cloak on a conveniently located coat rack, and then carefully leaned the – oh shit, it was a scythe – beside it. It was so ridiculously mundane a movement, like it was just another day of being the Reaper coming home after a long day of – what? Escorting dead people? Killing people? She still wasn't clear on the semantics.

"It was chilly earlier," the cloak-man muttered, his sharp cheekbones flushing pink.

The dog-man let out a laugh that was brighter than Tati had expected from someone with such a deep voice. "Atti, we both know you are not bothered by the weather."

Tati couldn't contain herself. "Atti?"

The previously-cloaked man shot a glare at the dog-man before looking back at Tati. "Atticus. It is my given name."

"Wait. So you were a person? Before you became whatever you are now?"

Atticus nodded, his face carefully blank. "Yes. We both were. But we have been serving as the Grim Reaper for a little over a century now."

Tati turned to the dog-man. "So who are you?"

"William," the dog-man said, offering a grin.

"And the dog thing?"

William's loud laugh sounded suspiciously canine. "Hear that, Atti? She calls it ‘the dog thing.'" When the other man only rolled his eyes, William turned back to Tatiana. "When Atticus stepped into his role as The Reaper, I was not yet ready to give up his company. Those in charge were not fond of the idea of an uneducated luddite hanging around with their golden boy of death, so it was either become a shape-shifting sidekick or not see him for a hundred years."

"This is so fucking weird." Tati looked between the two men and then around the room. "So you guys, what? Go and retrieve dead people?"

"Typically no," Atticus responded. "There are thousands of employees who take care of the fetching. Tonight our staff was a bit depleted due to a bout of seasonal PDM, so, well, the two of us were called out of the office."

Tati frowned. "PDM?"

"Post death melancholy," Atticus said, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

Tati didn't even try to hide her amused snort. She waited for the two men to smile, to laugh at what was obviously a joke.

It was obviously a joke…right?

But their expressions remained serious, so she carefully schooled her expression and went back to trying to piece together all of the new information that was coming her way. "You said you normally work in an office?"

"We work in the Central Office, where we manage the Earth to Afterworld pipeline, oversee particularly complex cases, intervene in the case of controversy, and conduct employee and staff reviews." William rattled off the list like something he'd memorized during training.

"So you're dead people managers, is what you're saying," Tati said, a hysterical laugh bursting from her lips. "I'm sorry, this is just…I saw my dead body, but I still don't know how I died, and now I'm here and fuck, I'm dead." She shook her head. "How can I be dead?"

"Check the memo," Atticus said to William.

William shifted his weight in his seat as he reached into one of his pockets and drew out a crumpled piece of paper. "Here we are. Tatiana Nowak. Female. Thirty years old. Libra. Single. No pets."

"Seriously?" She braced her hands on her wide hips. "Why does that matter?"

Atticus drummed his fingers on the surface of the dark wooden desk that stood in one corner. "We make arrangements if there are pets."

Tati's brows shot up. "Arrangements? Wait, do you work with humans? I have so many questions."

"Do you want to know how you died or not?" Atticus leveled an impatient look at her.

Tati nodded.

"It would appear that you were hit by a vehicle," William said.

Tati stood there, blinking. Hit by a fucking car while wearing a slutty Tinker Bell costume. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and choked out a laugh. "God, what a silly way to die," she murmured. "And I spent so much time on this costume."

Atticus' dark eyes swept over her. "And what, exactly, is your costume?"

She huffed out a breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "Tinker Bell. She's the fairy from the movie Peter Pan ."

"Based on the play by J. M. Barrie, I believe," Atticus said, nodding in recognition.

"Objectively, Tink, it could have been much worse," William interjected, leaning forward in his chair to brace his elbows on his knees. A piece of his curly brown hair fell into his face, and Tati watched, transfixed, as one of his tattooed and tanned hands came up to brush it away. "And now we can get down to the business of figuring out how you want to spend the rest of eternity."

Still in a daze, Tati followed Atticus to one of the chairs beside where William already sat. She perched on the edge of the seat, aware of the leather sticking to her thighs. She had picked the tiny green dress with the plunging cowl neck based on the fact that she looked fucking hot in it— cinched at the waist, hugging her ass and hips, and pushing her god-given tits up for the whole world to appreciate — but it had definitely been picked based on a night of standing and dancing and hopefully using the single zipper down the back to take it off as quickly as possible. It certainly wasn't picked for being dead or in meetings requiring sitting on full display.

"So, now that you are dead," Atticus began, crossing one long leg over the other and twirling a pen between his fingers. "You have been brought to the Afterworld, where you will spend the rest of eternity. It is an infinite place that, for the most part, mirrors the physical and natural laws that you are accustomed to from living on Earth, and yet there are certain constraints." He leaned forward, nudging the pile of glossy brochures towards her. "There are different…regions, I believe would be the most accurate way to describe them. There is the Urban Center, where, no matter how far you travel, you will find endless urban sprawl. You have Suburban and Rural areas as well. You then have a Remote Region, where your eternity is almost guaranteed to be solitary."

"These are all reflective of the modern world and modern life," William cut in. "We generally shift the Afterworld every century. The surroundings evolve to match the experience of the living. So you will not find life like Ancient Greece or China under Emperor Qianlong, although you will find the dead from those eras here in the Afterworld. But in each region you have all climates represented, so whatever your preference, you can find it."

Tati almost laughed. It all sounded so…unromantic, maybe? Was the afterlife really just an extension of life on earth among the living?

"I should probably add," Atticus was saying, his gaze watching her carefully, "that once you choose a region, there is no going back. There is no travel permitted between regions. Wherever you decide to pass eternity is where you will be."

"No take-backs," William added.

Tati looked between them before looking down at brochures on the table. Each one depicted a region, splashed with glossy photographs of the idyllic cityscape or country cottage. She flipped one open at random, finding a detailed description of the current demographics of the Urban region – Fifty-thousand people per square mile, and within every 5 mile quadrant an eternal occupant could access all of the amenities one could ever need. Restaurants, nail salons, night clubs , a fucking zoo?

She only had a million questions, but had to start somewhere. "And what does a dead person do in the Afterworld?"

William shrugged. "Whatever you want. Opportunities and community will vary based on where you are, but you can, theoretically, do whatever you like."

"Except build a high-rise in the remote region," Atticus grumbled. "We had to add building codes because bloody billionaires felt like they needed to prepare for an apocalypse even in the Afterworld. Bastards do not seem to understand the fact that they are actually dead."

Tati blinked. "Okay. Is there money? Currency? How am I supposed to do all of these things?"

"It is a gift economy. Everything is free — food, housing, entertainment, experiences, amenities — and alternately, individuals providing those services are given whatever supplies or materials they need. There is a request form, of course, but you just submit that to the Central Office and they get it all sorted."

"That's…shockingly simple."

Atticus nodded, rubbing a hand across his smooth jaw. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Tati looked back down at the table, at the possibilities laid out before her. Oh you know, no pressure. Just pick the place where you'd like to spend the rest of fucking ETERNITY. No biggie. She coughed. "Is there any way I could see a region before choosing?"

Atticus and William exchanged a long look, obviously engaging in some form of silent communication. Tati felt a wave of annoyance that she wasn't included in whatever they were saying.

It was William who broke from the stare and spoke, a grin curving his lush mouth. "How would you like to go to a party, Tink?"

"A party?"

Atticus pushed himself up to standing, his hands smoothing down the front of his slacks. "It is in the Urban Region, at the top of one of those ostentatious towers. There is always a large crop of the newly-dead on Halloween, so it seems fitting that there be a party."

Tati glanced down at the sparkling lime of her dress. "Am I dressed okay?"

She glanced up in time to see both men smile. The expressions, while communicating a similar feeling, looked completely different on each of their faces. William's smile was easy, sweet, mirrored by the playful twinkle in his eyes. Atticus, on the other hand, smiled like he was actively trying to remain stoic, and his dark eyes somehow burned more intensely.

"You look perfect, Tatiana," Atticus said, his smooth voice coming out in a low hum.

William's smile grew. "Certainly makes our outfit choices easier."