Chapter 2

When he eventually opened both of his eyes, most of the grim reapers were already walking away with their respective charges. The powerful gas explosion didn’t leave much of the restaurant. Some of the surrounding buildings and the vehicles on the road were also on fire. There were bloody or charred bodies in several spots. This was a horrific and catastrophic incident. Galen stared at the victims’ souls for a minute or so before he turned around and started making his way toward his destination. He was supposed to unite two women who would be meeting for the first time at a department store nearby. He had been on his way there prior to being distracted by Odon’s appearance in front of the restaurant. Or whatever remained of it. There were plenty of deaths here, but life had to continue.

He ignored the stunned or crying passersby who had rushed toward the scene of destruction like a flock of vultures. Not that they could see, hear, or touch him anyway. He was invisible and intangible to them because that was the way he liked it. At least most of the time. At the moment, some of them were frantically trying to contact the police, the fire department, and the hospitals. Galen scoffed at the people who were openly sobbing. He also rolled his eyes in disgust as he headed toward the department store. The damn humans needed to learn that life was anything but a bed of roses, and the only certainty in the universe was death. The sooner they understood all that, the better it would be for them. This was one of those times when he was glad that he was a cupid instead of a grim reaper. He had experienced sadness many years ago, and he still remembered it vividly as if it had just occurred the previous day. That anguish was more than enough to scar him for all eternity because it had killed everything that he used to be long before he died for real.

* * * *

Dion Angelos whistled softly as he put on the finishing touches on the corpse of old Mrs. Gloria Donahue. He was the owner of Angelos Funeral Home, a small business that had been passed down for generations. It was started by his great, great grandfather many years ago. Currently, Dion hired a few people to assist him with the operational side of the business, such as dealing with the customers, taking care of the decorations, and several other tasks that were requested or deemed as necessary. However, Dion always dealt with the corpses himself. He enjoyed being around the dead bodies. They didn’t move around, and they certainly didn’t make any noise. Dion could work on the corpses inside the temperature-controlled room in peace. It was exactly the way he liked it.

He couldn’t stand the living, breathing humans for the most part. They were all stupid and annoying. Dion didn’t even interact with any of his employees if he could avoid them. Or at the very least, he would keep that to the barest minimum possible. Hence, he was taken aback when someone’s hand, rather opaque and in a similar color as the blue fire on a stove, appeared out of nowhere right above Mrs. Donahue’s head. He raised his head and sighed when he came face to face with a familiar spirit. He suppressed his irritation and arched his left eyebrow at the spirit.

“Mr. Jones, how many times do I need to remind you not to disturb me when I’m busy with someone’s dead body?”

Mr. Robert Jones had died a few years ago. He was a cheerful fellow. Well, as happy as a spirit could be anyway. However, Dion had yet to figure out why Mr. Jones had been adamant about his refusal to step into the light even though it always hovered nearby, ready to transport the spirit toward the other side. He was astonished when Mr. Jones appeared to be really heartbroken and miserable about something. That was quite a rare sight. Before Dion could utter another word, Mr. Jones turned toward the door that would lead into the main hall of the funeral home. Dion was even more surprised when Mr. Jones faced him once again a few seconds later. Mr. Jones seemed even more gloomy and wretched than he did earlier.

“I need your help.”

Dion gaped at Mr. Jones in confusion. Generally, spirits sought him out because they died with unfinished businesses in the mortal world, and they required his assistance in one form or another. Mr. Jones was the exception. He claimed he had passed away peacefully. That was the reason why Dion couldn’t comprehend why Mr. Jones had yet to cross over to the other side or why none of the grim reapers had yet to fetch the spirit to where he was supposed to be. Dion stared at Mr. Jones for a few seconds longer before nodding slowly.