If I Have You

Prologue

Rain pours from the open, crackling sky. David’s pleading is lost in the sound of the downpour.

It’s the end of the cycle. There’s no more time and the sliver of the portal is only moments from closing forever. Anson looks at it as if the sparking light flickering out a few feet away from them isn’t the end of everything he’s ever wanted. In a split moment, faster than he could ever imagine, everything will change, and he’s as powerless to fix it as he is to open the portal any further.

Anson watches, almost distantly, as the man he loves begs him not to leave.

David’s dark, drenched hair is plastered to his forehead, and his shirt is hanging off of him like it’s liquid, too, dripping down broad shoulders and long arms. He looks like a hero out of a romance novel but instead of sweeping Anson off his feet, he’s losing everything.

Anson is, too, for the record.

He’s as in love with David as he’s ever been. There’s no question: he’s gone, wrecked, ruined, just from the look on David’s face.

Please, Anson. David’s voice is hoarse, punctuated by the lightning in the sky. It’s reflected in his wide eyes and when he reaches out, hands clasping around Anson’s, the lightning is there, too. It pulsates through Anson, and with every bit of his entire existence, he loves him.

He wishes that was enough. He wishes that being in love was enough, that him finding David’s soul in all of the universe meant that they were destined, fated, meant to be — that they were promised something more than this.

But soulmates aren’t real. And love can only conquer so much.

You have to go, Anson yells over the storm.

David shakes his head. No, no —

You said —

To hell with what I said! David drops his hands and grabs Anson by the jaw, palms flat against his cheeks. His eyes flicker across Anson’s face. To hell with all of it. I won’t go without —

Anson kisses him. Hard and desperate and just shy of painful, teeth gnashing and lips sliding. He kisses him while the storm rages and his lungs scream for air. David meets him each time, as gone as he is. They kiss until Anson feels light-headed and his lips are sore and bruised, and when they pull back, they’re both panting.

I can’t lose you.

Anson’s eyes squeeze shut. He rests his forehead against David’s. For a moment, everything feels… still. Safe. Right. But it’s all a lie and Anson can’t risk David’s soul, not for anything. Not even for this. You have to.

When he wrenches away, racing the few feet from the center of the portal, David’s screams are met only by the ferocity of the storm, and the blood in Anson’s body, pounding to get out.

Chapter One

In the beginning, there were Reapers.

Reapers were created by the universe. It’s said that when the first human soul died, the first Reaper was born. After all, someone had to guide the human to the afterlife. The process was messy. It took that first soul almost two decades to move on, and the Reapers pride themselves on having a much quicker response time now.

A human dies and, almost every time, doesn’t pass on right away. There are things — and more things, the larger and more complex humanity becomes — that cling to a soul when its body dies. The soul must come to terms with its loss before it can pass on. The Reapers don’t know where the souls go after purgatory, but they do know it’s their job to help them leave. Each soul with its own unique purgatory and a personal guide in the form of a Grim Reaper to help the soul in its journey.

Anson didn’t so much learn this history as much as he’s just always known it, but, still, he finds it a bit boring. His lead, Gloria, told him he was spending too much time talking to the humans and not enough time guiding them.

Anson. Gloria snaps her fingers. She’s half-shaped like a human now, with a face and arms and a torso, but the lower half is all wispy Reaper, just gray smoke billowing from her stomach down. She’s already helped two souls move on in this cycle. She’s a great Reaper. She’s a great lead.

Anson dislikes her all the same.

Progress report. She barks the order.

Anson doesn’t want to answer. That in and of itself is against protocol, so he swallows back the human bit of his response and says plainly, No updates, Lead.

No updates. Gloria’s smoky half billows a bit as if its feathers are ruffled. Still.

Not a question, and they both know it, but Anson answers anyway. No updates, Lead. Still.

Gloria pinches the bridge of her nose. It’s a decidedly human thing to do and a decidedly human act of self-preservation, Anson doesn’t mention it. "It’s been ten years, Anson."

Anson’s stomach, which is actually just a pile of smoke, drops to his feet, another pile of smoke. He’s smoke from head-to-toe and he doesn’t have either, technically, but it still feels like how he imagines a stomach bottoming out would feel.

Anson’s been working on the soul of David Harbinger for ten years. For ten years, he’s tried to help the poor soul move out of his purgatory and to the better place. But Anson can’t get it. There’s only so much manipulation a Reaper has in a purgatory. The space is totally controlled by the human souls, despite them not knowing that, and if a soul isn’t ready, it isn’t ready.

A small part of Anson reminds him that’s not the whole picture, that David not being ready isn’t all that’s happening, but Gloria’s watching him, so he doesn’t say anything.

"You had a perfect track record before this soul, Anson," Gloria continues. Her human face that she must’ve been wearing in a purgatory before she called this meeting is that of a white woman with blonde hair. She’s older, maybe in her sixties, and it makes Anson a little sad that this is the face a soul needed to see to move on. Older women usually mean kids who need a guide that can fake a maternal instinct. Much like the space of the purgatory, each Reaper takes on a face that will provide comfort to the soul. Because of David, Anson’s been in one body for ten years. He’ll be sad to leave it.

He’s… tricky, Anson says.

Gloria frowns. Perhaps we should reassign.

Anson freezes. Even the tendrils of smoke creeping around his energy have stopped cold. He thinks hard, carefully, and for a split second too long, because then Gloria’s face has morphed into a scowl and Anson’s screwed.

We’ll reassign, she decides. She nods once, as if to decree it, and panic wells in Anson.

One more time! he cries out. I — have been with him for a long time. Give me one last shot.

Gloria tilts her head. Reapers do not get emotional. Reapers do not need emotions.

Anson’s always had a chink in his armor. David’s soul has split it wide open and he wonders if Gloria can see the weeping wound. He resists the urge to cross his arms. He doesn’t even have arms. Doing something so… human… would be a dead giveaway that Gloria should under no circumstances give Anson another shot. He’s too broken.

But Anson can’t give up on David. He can’t let David leave without him. He promised.

I can do it, he says firmly. If you’ll let me, I can do it.

You are a curious one, Gloria says. Then her expression clears, boredom and apathy replacing the curiosity. Fine. One more cycle. But if you can’t get him to cross over, we will have to place a Tier III.

Anson’s only Tier II. He’s been lucky to stay with David this long. He knows that. He’s not experienced or talented enough to be a Tier III, to help with the most stubborn souls.

Gloria’s eyes widen. "Oh. That’s what this is. You’re hoping for a — what do the humans call it? A promotion?"

Anson latches on to that. Yes.

Gloria nods again. Ah, that makes much more sense. Well, perhaps. This soul has proven to be most difficult. It’ll be good in your records if you can get him to move on.

A pang of something unidentifiable, at least to him, at least to a Reaper, shoots through what would be Anson’s chest. He wonders if spending so much time in replicated human bodies makes the Reapers more like humans. He knows better than to raise this question with a lead, though.

May I go now? he asks. Smoke swirls around them both, a telltale sign of his anxiety. Gloria