A Scripta

Grim sat bolt upright in bed, a scream stuck in his throat. Lue woke up immediately, spines extended.

"God, oh, God..." He put his head in his hands. "Oh God..."

Lue retracted his spines, whispered the spell and touched Grim's thigh. "What, love?"

"Another job from Hades." Grim whispered the spell and kissed Lue, then got out of bed. He glanced at the clock - it was 4:30 a.m.

"Love, you don't have to do this anymore."

Grim turned to Lue as he grabbed Scythe. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you do this to protect Kalius from being claimed by Hades?"

"Yes."

"You said yesterday you don't love him anymore."

"But I don't want to see him dead."

Lue frowned.

Grim went over to him and caressed his cheek. "I still care about him enough to want to help him. If having to fetch souls and bring them to their assorted afterlifes every once in a while is payment for that, then it's okay."

"They do not know what a generous man they have in you," Lue said.

"Lue, if you want me to stop associating with them..."

"I do, but I won't tell you to."

"I'll wait until they tell me not to."

"They never will. They'll keep using you."

Grim's eyes danced. "We'll see." He kissed him again. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Lue watched Grim leave, then lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Oh, Grim," he sighed sadly.


Jeffrey Glick stumbled out of his car. Working third shift at the hospital in maintenance sucked, but at least it paid the bills and he could sleep in relative quiet during the day. He climbed up the four flights to his apartment and fumbled with the keys at the door. Seven a.m., he was so fucking tired, all he wanted to do was fall into bed with his wife, just a quick kiss and conversation while he undressed, and then she would get up and he would pass out.

He opened the door, dropped his knapsack on the couch where he usually put it, and passed the kitchen. The clock on the stove was blinking - the power must have gone out some time during the night. He turned the corner and looked into his bedroom. He stopped short.

There was a large lump in the bed. This lump was a lot bigger than his wife. This lump also had short curly black hair, as opposed to his wife's long brown, and the broad back was dark brown instead of milky white.

His mind slowly registered that another man was sleeping in his bed. He looked back at the kitchen and his eye fell upon the knife rack. No, something faster than that, something that won't miss. He turned back to the bedroom, and focused on the nightstand near the door. He walked quietly to the nightstand and slowly pulled out the drawer, then pulled out the S&W 9mm and the magazine next to it. He stood in the doorway and shoved the magazine in, flipping off the safety. Holding the gun tightly against his side, he walked back out of the room, making plenty of noise.

The lump in the bed stirred, and he saw there were two lumps moving. "Ah, babe," said the brown lump. He heard a wet kiss. Then his wife: "Oh, shit, the power went off, look at the clock!" The brown lump rumbled, "I hope that we're not too late."

He turned over in bed and saw Jeffery standing across the hall, the gun pointed right at him. "Oh, fuck," he uttered, his eyes wide.

"Jeffrey!" yelled his wife. "I can explain!"

Jeffrey didn't even see her, his eyes focused entirely down the barrel of the gun. Jeffrey had done enough target shooting with his father. He knew what he was doing. The brown man moved slowly, as to not startle him, and stood up. "Hey, man, look, I'm sorry. I'll jus' get my clothes an'--"

Jeffrey was prepared for the small kickback of the pistol and rocked back with it, but kept his arms straight and steady. The shot went true, right into the man's chest with an armor piercing bullet - his father always said, pack armor that you know will kill an intruder because you often had only one shot. This blew a hole out the man's back that he could very well put his fist through, and it blew gore all over his wife. She stared at it, and started to scream.

"Shut up, slut!" Jeffrey yelled, and swung the gun in her direction. He pulled the trigger without thinking, and the upper left side of her head blew off.

The man was no longer breathing. Jeffrey aimed the gun down and walked over to a pair of jeans hung over his computer desk's chair. He pulled out the wallet and got his name, Brian Simone, same address as this building, different floor. Jeffrey looked at the two bodies on the bed.

"You know," said a voice behind him, "I would have done the same thing."

Jeffrey turned around and saw a blond man in gray, with black wings folded against his back.

"I'll give you a choice. If you live, you go to jail, maybe get executed, maybe not, depends on the jury. If you die, you go to Hades and wander eternally. What are you going to do?"

Jeffrey looked at the bodies again. He looked up at the gray man. "I want to live."

He heard a "snickt" and saw that the man took his hand away from a knife at his belt. "As you wish. Better call 911."

He walked over to the phone and saw that he still had his gun in his hand. He put it down next to the phone and dialed. "911, what is the nature of your emergency?"

He glanced behind him, but the gray man was gone. He took a deep breath and said, "I shot someone."


((Inspired by Wake Up Call by Maroon 5))