A very emotional soul harvester, Cross had time and time again tried to proceed with a clear head everytime she did her job. Every day was always different, yet the summoner had always encountered the same problem every time; she had a fantastic memory— which often led to the dilemma of why she would choose such a harsh and eventful job.
Humans and their babies. The very definition of vermin! Cross suppressed a shudder as she squeezed past a pack of them, their grubby hands and feet thudding loudly against the carpet, squeals of laughter ringing along the train hallway.
Working as a full time soul harvester for Logos city government, Cross had only recently been promoted to city field work, a highly desired position to have amongst her folk, the Miyeli. The Miyeli kind are known for being the go-to folk to hire for harvesters. She let out a leisure yawn, settling into her cabin seat once again, the plush patterned cushions hardly sinking, her weight featherlike.
As part of her new protocol, Cross was required to carry around four things: her case bag in which held her tablet for reporting, a bracelet, in case incapacitation of the subject is necessary, standard steel toed boots, and finally a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Although the last one was more so just an add-on so that no one is sleeping on the job. Which was why when Cross held up jasmine tea to her chin, she mildly wondered if she would ever get in trouble for her preference of herbal teas over coffee. She pondered thoughtfully while inspecting the cup in front of her.
What a blasphemous human invention, coffee.
Cross licked her lips clean as she set the cup back down, her proverbial better drink sloshing up the sides and over the blue rimmed cup. Her skinny, pale white fingers paid no mind as she stared mindlessly on her tablet, her tea soaked hands coming to rest on the sides of the tablet.
“Why, it’s rather hot today,” she murmured, scrolling by the weather icon, a smiling sun with shades resting on its round head, Vivialdi’s cello concerto in G minor blasting out from her headphones. “And technology has certainly improved.”
She shook her head as a grim smile appeared on her gaunt features, the skin around the larger of her two eyes molding with slight effort. It had been a while since she had gotten to visit the highly renowned technology city, Logos. Oftentimes, she was sent to rural towns that weren’t even recognized on the map, their worth so insignificant compared to this grandeur city. The last time she went, it was for a funeral.
A wistful broom swept through Cross’s heart, turning her head to look out the window. Though it is exhilarating to get promoted to the big leagues, and to get a higher pay while she’s at it, there became a small feeling of dread that settled into her gut. Her gaze flickered, her eyes focusing in and out from the skyline of distant tall metal buildings to the fingerprint and nose stained train windows.
Born in this city, returning home will never be easy for Cross when the choice to leave was her easiest to make. Slowly, Cross exhaled, her focus traveling down to the dent-ridden wooden table. Her little sister’s funeral was the last time and reason that she was in this city. Returning on the very train that killed her didn’t make it better either.
Cross leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to the steady beat of gears as the train blazed past several buildings, going deeper into the heart of the city. Wearing a drabby, dark stained cloak, the summoner could have easily passed for a homeless folk from one of the neighboring cities who had managed to catch a ride on the esteemed Cessna Express. A mouthless train conductor stalks past, gloved fingers pinched out for tickets.
Perhaps she could have kept on daydreaming, sitting there in the train if the sharp ding of the notification hadn’t caused her to jerk backwards, her unnatural speed of a Miyeli knocking her mug clean over the edge of the table. It clattered to the carpet with dull thuds, but Cross paid no mind. Hands flying, she quickly tapped into the notification, eager to see what she had assigned. Maybe she was more eager to know the job so that she may leave the train sooner, though Cross would never admit that aloud to even herself.
Fingers as steady as she was able to force them to be, Cross quickly read through the synopsis of her subject, not wishing to waste anymore time.
Subject: JEffy Davis
Age: 63
Species: human
Spouse: Dahlia davis
Offspring: Henry davis, trevor davis, sarah davis, john davis
Occupation: none
Personality: sleazy
Her brows furrowing, Cross felt her heart strings tugged at, her eyes glazing over his species, occupation, and personality section, settling on the striked through names of his family.
“They’re all deceased.” she noted sorrowfully. The train dipped downwards, shadows unfurling around her as walls of concrete enclosed around the train. A prickle of moisture threatened to drop down her face, but Cross quickly blinked it away, clearing her throat and shutting off the tablet. She stared down at her hands, already envisioning the blood that was there before and the blood to come.
The train slowed to a stop, the screech of metal against metal piercing through the station, across the dividers, up the stairs, and into the bright noon day. The summoner swiftly grabbed her belongings, her rubber boots narrowly sidestepping the tipped mug, and exited the train, her limbs heavy as they hit the train station floor. She walked through the rotating metal dividers and began her ascent, wishing he wouldn’t struggle too much.
Cross had noticed his personality section, and it had sat idly in the back of her mind. But as she walked onto the corner of a sidewalk, a small red sedan barely missing her leg, the tidbit of information jogged to the front of her mind, pounding its feet into the front of her head.
Perhaps it's for the best for the man to be sleazy, she thought as she rounded a corner, her small eye trained on the GPS while the bigger eye warily examined the people around her. Should he struggle, it would make it easier on my mind to know he is a horrible man who happens to have a lot of dead loved ones.
Nodding, Cross decided that would be the best way to go about it. However, as she rounded the final corner and turned into the alleyway where he was said to be located, her mindset quickly dissolved. Sitting with his back up against the grimed filled wall, Jeffy, her subject in question, sat staring up into the clear blue skies.
The summoner stopped dead in her tracks, mixed emotions flooding her. As though he could hear the roar of words going through Cross’s head, the man turned his head slowly, revealing blind eyes misty with emotion. He clambered to his feet, every movement filled with pain. Cross watched this all with trepidation, the word ‘sleazy’ passing in her mind.
Then, Jeffy did something that she did not expect him to do. He extended his arm towards her, his fingers coming inches away from hers. In a crackly voice, he murmured, “I have been waiting. Take my hand, summoner. I know my time has come.”
His words were far from what Cross had expected. Had the information on her tablet lied to her? What type of sleazy man would readily accept death, at the farthest seek it out?
As she stared at Jeffy’s earnest hand and glassy eyes, Cross realized two truths. The first was that she knew this man truly was ready for death, recognizing that the words she wished to say to him would do no matter to change his mind. The second was that by no means was Jeffy a scoundrel.
Swallowing past a lump in her throat, Cross felt a thousand questions rushing into her mind. She wanted to know why this man was so accepting, or why the synopsis had given her a lie. But none of it mattered. She had a job.
For only a second longer did Cross stare at the man, knowing that if she did not move now she may never bring herself to do her job as her boss and this man intended her to do. She took a tentative foot forward, taking his cold, frail fingers into her own similar hands.
She wanted to say many things to Jeffy, but the only words she spoke were, “As you wish.”
Tears flowed gently down both of the odd pair’s faces. Reaching up with her other hand, the summoner wanted to bring him down in the most gentle way she could. The needle went into slowly and with that the man submitted to the underworld, his soul transcending, his body crumpling on the floor in the alleyway.
A story written by: Sabrina Ha
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