Torrens C M His Soul To Take

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Dreamspinner Press

www.dreamspinnerpress.com

First published in 2011, 2011

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His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

CONTENTS

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight

* * * *

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Chapter One

Death studied the figure lying sprawled across the bed.

Sheets tangled around his ankles, shocking white against fine
bronze skin. The steady rise and fall of his chest filled the
room with the pleasant hum of gentle sleep. Almost musical.
He wondered why he hadn't noticed the pleasant note in
others.

A memory rose from the depths of his mind, from a time

long past. Like a dream that faded too quickly leaving only
vague images and half remembered thoughts. He frowned
and moved through the dark room to study the figure in more
detail. Short brown hair accented the angles of his jaw, giving
life to rather average features on a young, fresh face.

He stepped away, suddenly feeling like a voyeur watching

something forbidden.

The young man stirred, stretching in his sleep. Muscles

rippled with a grace Death hadn't expected from a man. A
cat-like beauty. Hard abs and skin so smooth, like fine clay.

He pulled his eyes away and shook his head. What was

wrong with him? He shouldn't even be standing here. Not yet.
Not today.

Sighing heavily, he slipped from the dark bedroom,

through the tiny apartment, and back out into the night air.
The crisp scent of spring clung to the city and a light drizzle
washed away the scent of cars and exhaust. Glowing
streetlights reflected off the wet street leaving the night
glittered with light.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

How long had he been doing this? He couldn't remember.

Since before cars and streetlamps decorated such massive
cities, during a time of horses and wagons, and far from this
place. The dream-like memories he had long ago decided to
forget.

His mind drifted to the sleeping man and he stopped to

look behind him. The lights in the apartment flicked on to cast
a yellow glow through plain curtains. Curiosity made him
pause. What did the man do at this hour?

He shook his head and continued on his path to the bus

stop. He had work to do. No time for wondering. A light
drizzle coated his jacket as he stepped under the pavilion to
wait for the bus. The pitter-patter of rain gave an uneven
beat to the night.

He took a seat on the bench and waited. A bus roared

past, oblivious to his presence, and he sighed. Some days he
got lucky enough for the bus to stop when it let off
passengers. Tonight wasn't one of those nights.

The sound of footsteps caught his attention, and he turned

to see the man from earlier racing from the apartment a few
buildings down.

He moved with a steady grace, and every step glided over

the wet sidewalk toward him. The light bouncing off the damp
street made vivid blue eyes stand out. A bright smile filled his
face, a nice contrast to the relaxed sleep Death had seen him
in just a short time ago.

"Hi," the man greeted and glanced around the bus stop.
Death looked behind him to be certain the man was

speaking to him.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Surprised, he turned and studied the empty pavilion and

still street again. No other person appeared to be in the area.

Death stared at the young man. His heart throbbed, torn

between excitement and concern. Few ever saw him. The
occasional mad-man or soothsayer, but never someone who
seemed so... common. Death tried to avoid staring at him too
much, but the task proved difficult. The man was talking to
him, looking at him. The realization sent an excited thrill
through his stomach.

"I'm Robert. I don't remember seeing you at this stop

before."

"This is my first time at this particular stop. I'm usually

much too busy to enjoy the scenery."

Tall buildings stretched out along the dark street, spotted

with the glow of streetlamps. Sturdy brick walls, glossy under
the sheen of spring rains, and the light scent of washed
pavement gave a clean feeling to the air.

Robert barked a laugh. "Scenery? You're in the wrong

city."

"No, I'm in the right one. I'm never wrong about these

things."

"All right then." Robert grinned.
The sound of the rain grew from a drizzle to a steady

downfall as silence filled the space between them. Death
wasn't sure how to keep the conversation going. He ached,
desperate for words after so many years of silence. Lost, he
bit his lip, trying to think of something to say.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

The wind picked up, spraying them with a fine mist. Ah,

the weather. He could speak about that. He opened his
mouth, but Robert spoke first.

"I think we missed the bus. Shit. I was hoping to get to

work early today. Where are you headed?"

He thought a long moment. He knew direction mostly. Had

to think about an actual destination. "Cream Dream. A club,
yes?"

A sudden excitement rippled over Robert's face. "The

Cream Dream. It's not too far, if you don't mind the rain. I'm
going there myself. We could walk together."

Death turned down the street; the line of lights glowed in

the distance. Weather didn't bother him. "All right."

Stepping out into the rain, they walked in no particular

hurry toward the club. A pleasant rush spread through him.

To walk with someone. It seemed strange to do such a

thing, but relaxing. Normal.

"I didn't get your name," Robert said.
Death blinked at the blue-eyed man. He couldn't

remember the last time someone asked him that question.
His name... he'd had one at one time. A faint memory stirred
but he couldn't be certain where it came from.

"Simon," Death said.
"Nice to meet you, Simon. Do you go to the club often?"
"I've never been there. I just have business there tonight."
"Oh. I see." The rain matted Robert's hair and dark curls

clung to his face. Drips of water beaded off his chin as his
face fell a bit. "I work there. A dancer."

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"You have a dancer's grace." Death let his eyes linger over

Robert's frame, remembering the sweet contours of his body.
He would love to see such a body in motion.

Robert's smile returned, lighting up his face. "Thanks. Will

you be there awhile? Maybe catch my show?"

"Yes," he said before he could stop himself. "If there's

time."

"What do you do? Businessman or something? You don't

see many businessmen walking in the rain."

"No, I... deliver things."
"Like the bike delivery people."
"Yes, something like that." Death smiled at his own joke.

Messages and deliveries. He'd have to remember that one if
he was ever in such a conversation again. Not that it was
likely to happen.

Robert pointed. "There's the club."
Music poured from the squat black building on the corner

and neon lights flickered overhead. The large sign would have
been hard to miss, even if Robert hadn't pointed it out. Bright
purple and blue neon glared out into the night like a beacon.

Death stepped over a puddle as they walked the last of the

way through to the parking lot. He was already missing the
company that would leave him. He looked Robert over,
longing to keep the normalcy of pleasant conversation going.
He had the sudden urge to stop him from going inside. To
prevent him from ever going into the club.

The tug of souls cried out to him, begging for his touch to

take them. Not Robert, but others demanded his attention.
He winced at their painful call and the urge passed.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"I gotta go around back. It was nice meeting you, Simon. I

hope you stay for my show."

Death started a bit at the sound of the name. Simon. That

was him. He liked the sound of it. It had a nice ring coming
from Robert's lips.

"Yes. It was nice meeting you too. We'll meet again soon, I

think."

Robert's face glowed with pleasure. "I'd like that."
Death watched him go, feeling suddenly obligated to see

Robert again. The young man had clearly misunderstood his
words.

He let out a slow deep breath and walked to the front of

the club. He had work to do. A ritual he'd grown accustomed
to.

A large bouncer appeared as he opened the door and

stepped out of the rain. The man's eyes peered through him,
his expression confused as Death slipped past. Loud music
and more neon flickered through the dark club. Small tables
and booths filled the open space in front of the large stage.
The mostly male crowd was in various dress from peacock
flashy to casual. Couples and men looking for other men
laughed and joked, waiting for the night's show to begin. A
small group of young men looked around, their nervous eyes
and bashful stares showed them to be virgins to such places.

The stage flickered to life as a dancer came out dressed in

cowboy gear, much to the delight of the crowd. Lights shone
down on him in time to the music as he danced and flaunted
for the audience.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Death walked through the crowd, pausing at a table of

men near the stage. He touched three out of the four, their
souls calling to him. He found another, a lonely man sitting by
himself, and touched him as well, reaching in and unlocking
the tether that bound his soul to the shell it inhabited.

He couldn't recall visiting such a place before, but the

beauty of such surroundings was refreshing. A dark memory
flickered in the back of his mind. Simon. The name stirred an
old memory and a strange mix of emotions. Joy and pain
touched at his soul, but he shoved them away before they
took root.

His attention was drawn to several others throughout the

room as the call of souls grew more persistent and painful.
They touched on every nerve—drawing him, calling to him,
demanding to be taken away from this world. Six in all,
before the buzzing pain stopped and let him rest.

The lingering ache began to subside, and he took a seat in

a dark corner of the club. No one looked in his direction or
came to take his order. A small group of men drifted his way
as if to sit, but they moved on. Their eyes slid away and they
moved past at a brisk pace until they were well on the other
side of the club. Few people ever saw him. Fewer spoke to
him, until the very end.

His eyes wandered to the stage. The dancer showing his

unique flexibility only held his attention for a moment before
his eyes were drawn upward to the spotlights overhead. The
metal rigging over the stage bowed from the weight. A
glimmer of worry rippled through him. He might not be here
for Robert, but his time was due soon. The idea that he might

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

suffer until his time came disturbed Death. He wasn't sure
why.

He remembered someone telling him that pain cleansed

the soul and made the release more bearable. He couldn't
remember who. He couldn't remember many things. After so
long, memories had faded away.

Death watched the cowboy leave the stage, and a head

popped out from behind curtains. Robert's eyes glittered with
pleasure as their gaze locked. His smile grew infectious, and
Death felt his lips twitch in response. A moment later,
Robert's head disappeared back behind the thick velvet
curtain. A hot glow swept through Death and he leaned
forward in his seat. He found his attention focused to the
stage in anxious anticipation.

A man stepped out a few minutes later, announcing the

next dancer. "Give a warm welcome to Hot Rod McGee. And
don't forget to show him how much you like him."

Death turned his eyes to the stage as the music started.

The curtain parted and Robert came out in a '20s mobster
outfit, complete with hat, pinstripe suit, and a flower in his
lapel. His body twisted and turned in time to the music, the
movements so alluring they sent a surge of want through
Death, a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time. Robert's eyes
locked with his, and a smile rippled across Robert's lips as he
pulled the flower from his lapel. A second later the flower flew
through the air.

Surprised, Death caught the flower and brought the white

rose to his nose, inhaling the sweet aroma. He stared at the

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

flower a moment, stunned to find a tingle of warmth pulsing
through him. It was strange to feel such emotion... nice.

Shirt and tie came off next. Robert's bronze skin glistened

under bright lights and his hard abs were such a tempting
sight. Death's fingers twitched, imagining his hands lingering
over the fine contours of his body.

A loud creak overhead interrupted the music. Death's

attention jerked back to the bowed lighting above. Robert
glanced up too. The entire light system shook and groaned as
the stressed metal started to give out. Death was moving
before thought entered his mind. He launched across the
room past startled men staring above the stage. His hand
latched onto Robert's shoulder, jerking him away as the lights
crashed onto the floor. Another set of lights swung out over
the crowd and collapsed on top of a small group of men as
they scrambled to get away.

Shouts and screams filled the air. Electricity sparked and

alcohol took to flame. The flicker of fire and smoke curled
through the room. Panic swept over the crowd as they rushed
for the door. People scrambled over each other to get away
from the flames. The fresh air from the open doors added
oxygen to the fire and the flames leaped.

He held Robert tight to him a moment, the heat of his

body so comfortable against him. His distinct musk mingled
with a pleasant spiced scent that invited attention. The
firelight flickered just off stage, giving his skin a golden glow.

Death shook his head, releasing him. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what? You just saved me. Come on," Robert

said.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

A firm grip clamped around Death's hand as Robert pulled

him from the chaos back stage. Panicked dancers shoved
them out of the way and raced through the smoke. Dark
fumes billowed around them, filling the air with a haze. Flashy
costumes glittered under flickering lights as Robert led him
through the tangle of props. Robert coughed and tripped as
the smoke grew thicker. Death caught his arm, pulling him
back up. His eyes scanned for an exit and fell on a glowing
sign.

Death pushed the door open. A cool rush of fresh air

billowed around them. The whine of fire trucks wailed in the
distance. The panicked crowd gathered in the parking lot to
watch as help arrived. Several dancers and emergency
personnel bombarded Robert with questions, drawing him out
of reach. Death studied the young dancer a moment, longing
to be close to him again. He forced his eyes away as worry
bubbled in his chest. His interference would not go unnoticed.

He winced and started back into the club. He had work to

do. The consequences were something he could deal with
later.

Stepping back inside the burning club, he opened his

second sight to search for the souls he needed to take. The
smoke didn't exist, nor did fire or danger as he picked his way
through the maze to find them. People cried out for help, but
not to him. They weren't his concern.

In the main room spirits rose from lifeless bodies, their still

shells forgotten as they drifted toward him in semi-
transparent forms. Some wept and some smiled as they

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

glided through the flames, untouched by heat and sharp
debris.

Without a word he raised his hand and concentrated,

tapping the hidden door to the other side and drawing it
forward. Slowly, he let one reality fall away as another took
its place. A portal of swirling gray mass rose up, opening and
widening. Faint, indistinguishable whispers rippled from
within, beckoning the souls he'd taken.

The spirits glided into a line, the portal calling them. Death

couldn't understand the words, but the spirits did. Their faces
lit up with joy, and a glow wrapped around them as they
reached out for the gray whirlpool. One by one, they slipped
away, disappearing through the swirling door, and they were
gone.

He let the portal fall away as the entryway flickered like a

reflection on water. Again, one reality replaced another. The
gate quivered and was gone.

Firefighters burst through the door spraying water in every

direction. Smoke and steam billowed thick around him. The
frantic work to save the lost always left him feeling torn and
uncertain. He couldn't help but wonder if their efforts were
futile. He often knew well in advance when a person's time
was coming, but did that mean the series of events were
already in motion or was fate to blame?

He shook his head, ridding himself of the thoughts that

plagued him more often these days.

Rescue workers carried on around him, oblivious to his

presence. Electricity sparked and debris crashed as
firefighters raced to the injured. Smoke filled the air, blinding

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

victims and rescuers alike. Water speckled Death's exposed
skin, thick with dirt and ash as it tickled his cheeks. Around
him several rescuers carried out injured people, and the last
of the fire was doused. He left them to finish alone and
stepped out the front doors.

Death scanned the crowd for Robert and found him across

the parking lot being led away from the club with a bunch of
others. Death slipped into the thick crowd and let himself get
lost in the chaos.

* * * *

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jerry asked.
Robert nodded and searched the crowd trying to find his

rescuer. "Where's Simon?"

People pressed close, eager to see the destruction and

excitement, and cops shouted to push people away from the
site. Lights flickered and loud voices filled the air.

"Who?"
Jerry was still dressed in his mock cowboy outfit. His

assless chaps framing firm, golden cheeks that he was all too
happy to flaunt at the passing rescue workers. Blond hair
matted to his head from the drizzle and his make-up was
smeared. If Jerry had only known what he looked like right
now, he might have died of embarrassment instead of ogling
the firefighters around them. "God, I love a man in uniform."

Robert shook his head. Jerry was the biggest flirt on the

planet. If it was male and human, he was all smiles.

"Jerry, pay attention for a second. The guy that pulled me

out of the way of the lights. Where did he go?"

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"Huh?" Jerry asked, forcing his eyes away from the

firemen with some effort.

Robert bit back his annoyance. "The guy that saved me

from the lights. He was just here."

"There was a guy? Hmm, must not have been paying

attention. Must be losing it to have missed that, then again,
there are so many tempting treats around here. Was he hurt
or something?"

"No."
Cops and firemen swarmed around them, asking

questions, and someone threw a blanket over Robert's
shoulders. He scanned the crowd again for Simon and caught
sight of him through the throng.

Straight brown hair and somber, chiseled face. He had

such sad eyes, Robert wanted to reach out and wash it all
away. He didn't seem like a man who had seen much
affection or kindness in a long time.

"Back up, please. Back up," one of the cops said, waving

the crowed farther away from the club.

People bumped and pushed their way behind the police

line. Robert staggered and Jerry caught him before he fell into
the masses. The surge of people pushed him farther from
Simon before the crowd swallowed him up.

Sighing heavily, Robert turned back to the flock of cops

and answered another round of questions. His bones ached,
and predawn light was growing on the horizon before Jerry
drove him home.

The memories of the lights crashing down on those men,

the panicked screams and choking fire didn't leave him. He

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

tried to will away the images, but the scent of smoke clinging
to his skin kept causing them to resurface. The cops hadn't
even said how many were killed, but more than one person
had been lifted out of the rubble and into an ambulance,
ominously silent as it pulled away.

Jerry stopped in front of his apartment a while later.

Robert sat in the passenger seat for a long moment. Damn,
what a night.

"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. You?"
Jerry nodded, his eyes thoughtful as he stared off down

the street.

The silence stretched out between them, and Robert forced

himself to open the car door. The adrenaline crash hit him
hard. Everything ached as exhaustion seeped into his bones.
"I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

"Call me later, okay?"
Robert grunted and waved him away. Stepping into his

cheap little apartment, he stripped out of his pants for a quick
shower before he dropped onto the bed.

Lying in bed, his thoughts returned to the club chaos and

his strong-armed hero, Simon. There was something so
drawing about him. Robert couldn't seem to get his mind off
the quiet man. Hadn't he asked him out again? It seemed like
it, though now that wasn't likely to happen. He'd hoped to
give him his number after the show. The whole bit of chaos
threw him off. Damn, it had been way too long since he'd had
a proper date. The nightly propositions were getting old. He
wanted something real. He'd spent too much of his life like

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Jerry, chasing whatever attractive man crossed his path. Jerry
might be able to fuck anything that moved, but Robert was
ready for more.

He was, well, lonely. The privacy he had adored when he

got his apartment now seemed too quiet. Coming home to an
empty bed was growing more depressing by the day. Too
many nights had passed wondering if he'd ever find someone
to share his life with and make it count. Make it really mean
something, and not just be some passing fancy. Romantic
notions to be sure, but maybe not impossible.

Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and tried not to think

about Simon and his lost chance with that particular Prince
Charming.

[Back to Table of Contents]

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Chapter Two

Death wandered the city through the night, taking souls

until the calls came to an end. With a gentle sigh he sat down
in the alley beside an old bum. His corpse lay rotting,
untouched for three days now, but his spirit still lingered.
Death had tried to convince him to go through several times,
but the old man was confused and afraid. Sometimes that
happened. Depressed or angry souls too attached to this
world, or something in it, just refused to go on to the next.

"If I go through, what happens?" he asked
Death sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. I've never

been. I'm not allowed to look."

"Haven't you ever peeked?"
"I can't. I can only open the portal. I can't pass through.

I'm barred from entry."

"Oh," the old man said. "That's gotta suck."
Death smiled. "I'm accustomed to it."
The old man studied his body as it lay halfway between a

dumpster and a cardboard box. "Do you think they'll find me
today?"

"It's just a body. It holds nothing of you anymore."
"I think I already miss having one. Can't drink without a

body."

Death twitched a smile. "I should be going. I have work to

do. I might not have time to come back and ask again. Do
you want me to open the portal? You really shouldn't stay

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

here. You could be trapped here for a very long time. You
can't do much here, really. Not as a spirit."

"What if over there's no better?"
He wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't be certain that the

other side was any better, but surely anything over there was
better than here. At least something there called to souls.

"You know, you really aren't very good at this job," the old

man said.

"Why do you say that?"
"Aren't you supposed to convince me to go?"
"No. The decision has to be yours."
"Another one of those rules? Eh, what stupid rules. Can't I

just wait until they find my body? I don't like the idea of me
rotting there and no one finding me. They keep letting me rot
away, and my family will never know I'm dead." His shoulders
slumped and a sad sigh drifted from his lips.

Death thought a long moment, uncertain what to do for

the old spirit. Life had not been the best for him here. He
could at least give him a little bit longer to wait. He disliked
leaving souls about, they grew so sad and lonely. He knew
that loneliness all too well. "I'll come back soon, but that's the
last time. If you say no then, I'll have to go. You'll have to
find me if you ever want to go through after that."

"All right. I'll be here. I just want them to find me is all."
Death said nothing and got slowly to his feet. The old spirit

went back to sit beside his body, his sad eyes on his empty
shell as he waited to be found.

His mind wandered and his thoughts turned to Robert, the

attractive dancer in the mock mobster outfit. The sway of his

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

hips and the ripples of his body drifted through his mind like a
warm dream. Death could almost smell the scent of spiced
musk that lingered on his skin. He couldn't rid his mind of the
memory. He reached into his pocket and took out the white
rose Robert had tossed to him. The flower remained fresh and
fragrant. Perfect petals in half bloom trapped with him in
time.

How long had it been since someone had reminded him he

was flesh? Reminded him he could want and feel things?

He suddenly had the urge to go see him again and found

himself moving toward Robert's home a few minutes later.
Uncertain if it was the call or his own desires, he let himself
find his way back toward the bus stop.

Hope. The luxury of such an emotion warmed the soul he'd

thought dead. An invigorating yet unnerving sensation that
twisted his gut and flooded him with energy. He found himself
walking faster than usual, eager to see if Robert would be
there. But what would he say if he was? And if he wasn't,
could he risk taking a peek at him again? The memory of
bronze skin and white sheets sent a hungry shudder through
him.

He rounded the corner to the bus stop. His heart sank at

the sight of the empty bench and he looked down the road
toward the apartment complex. He couldn't very well explain
how he knew where Robert lived if he happened to run into
him there.

Disappointment bloomed. Another emotion that felt alien

to him. The sharp sting of fading hope and the drop in his gut

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

gave him a flutter of excitement. To feel again, even if it was
such a grim emotion, was a thrilling concept.

"Simon?" a voice called.
Death turned at the sound of Robert's voice. Simon, the

name was still a surprise to hear aloud.

He caught his breath as he took Robert in. Curls of dark

hair falling around his face and eyes so alive with joy and life.

An unexpected surge of want seeped into his bones. To

see him, touch him, to enjoy every inch of him. A knowing
smile rippled across Robert's lips, and Death pulled his eyes
away.

"I was hoping you'd show up here," Robert said.
The plastic bags in his hand rattled, drawing Death's

attention to the groceries in Robert's hands.

"You left before we could talk."
Death hesitated. "I had to work."
"Deliveries keeping you busy?"
"No busier than usual, but I have deadlines," he said

motioning to the bags. "Would you like help?"

"Sure."
Death took half the bags from Robert and they walked

toward the apartments down the street. He barely noticed the
buzz of traffic over the excited flutter of his heart.

"I'm out of a job for a while. Your place wouldn't happen to

be hiring, would it?"

Death winced. "You wouldn't want my job, Robert. I rarely

stay in one place long and it gets... very lonely."

"You just have to be more outgoing. Make some friends."

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Death said nothing and let Robert lead the way down the

hall to his apartment.

"Want to come in? You aren't working now, are you?"
"I'm always working, but I have a little time."
Robert's smile was infectious. So bright and open. Such

expressions never fell on him. Such smiles were reserved for
others. A deep ache hit Death. He had a job to do soon. For
the first time he was considering what would happen if he
didn't. The world certainly couldn't be any worse off if that
smile stayed in it a bit longer.

"Are you okay?" Robert asked stopping outside his door.

"You have that expression on your face."

"What expression?"
"That quiet, sad expression. You smiled, and then it was

gone. I like it when you smile."

"I guess I haven't had much to smile about in a long time."
"I'd like to make you smile more." Robert laughed

suddenly and pushed open the door. "Too corny?"

Death shook his head and stepped into the apartment,

closing the door behind them. "No. Sweet."

Robert stopped and turned to face him. "You think?"
He was so close Death could feel the warmth of his body.

Intense, bright eyes stared back at him. Before he could think
to stop himself, he closed the space between them. His lips
brushed against Robert's, soft and gentle, and the bags fell
from numb hands. Robert's eager lips opened to him, begging
him to taste, and Death pulled him closer, his tongue
exploring, devouring. The scent of him. The spicy splash of
cologne mingled with a raw manly musk, so enticing. A deep

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

ache of lust grew, spreading, building. Strong hands pulled
him closer. He wanted....

Death gasped for breath and pulled away, stepping back

from Robert. Clearing his throat, he took another breath to
try and ease some of the hunger he hadn't felt in so long.
This was too much. He had to think.

"I should go," Death whispered.
Turning quickly he opened the door and left before he did

something he'd regret.

* * * *

Robert sagged against the wall and let out a heavy sigh.
That was stupid. Stupid-stupid-stupid.
Not that he regretted anything about that kiss.
He touched his lips. Simon had tasted of winter. Like the

fresh clean taste of new snow without the chill. He couldn't
remember tasting anything quite like it before.

Still stupid. He barely knew the man. Didn't know his full

name, his fucking phone number. Geez, he was such an idiot.
Hadn't he just been thinking he wanted something more than
a quick fuck?

Shaking his head, he picked up the groceries they had

dropped by the door and carried them to the kitchen. The
silence in his small apartment made Simon's disappearance
feel all the heavier. He should have stopped him from going
or asked him to stay for lunch.

He shoved the last of the groceries into the fridge and

pulled out the newspaper, circling potential jobs in bright red

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

ink. The silence in the apartment reminded him just how
empty his place was.

The phone rang and Jerry launched into excited babble

over his newest conquest. Some cop who'd been at the fire.

Robert let him rattle on about his new affair, glad not to

have a reason to talk. The occasional grunts and other non-
committal sounds were enough to let Jerry chatter on for
hours. And anything concerning sex had Jerry unstoppable.

Robert flipped through the paper, his eyes drawn to a

photo covering most of one page. A lone figure stood off to
one side, almost hidden among the rescue workers. Long,
dark, trench coat, straight dark hair... Simon? The image was
too distant and distorted to tell. He squinted and blinked
again, studying the photo in more detail. A seven-car pileup,
three dead, six injured. The mangled wreckage bound two
cars into one as firefighters worked the Jaws of Life to
retrieve a victim.

He shook his head and tossed the paper aside, dismissing

the photo.

"Did you go job hunting today?" Jerry finally asked when

the tales of his exploits had wound down.

"Huh? What?"
"You said you'd be doing some job hunting today."
Robert turned his attention back to the conversation.

"Yeah, I picked up a paper. There's an open call for auditions
at one of the theaters tomorrow. They're looking for dancers.
Maybe I'll get lucky."

"You need to get lucky." Jerry snorted. "Your self-imposed

celibacy makes my balls ache at the very thought."

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by C.M. Torrens

Robert rolled his eyes. "Is that all you think about? Sex?"
"No, but life is a lot more fun when I do. I'm taking Officer

Green—doesn't that just have a delicious ring to it?—out
tonight. Wanna come?"

"And be a third wheel? I don't think so."
"Okay, just thought I'd offer." Jerry said. "Oh, and

Maxine's in the hospital. She wants you to pick her up some
magazines."

"I didn't realize she was hurt."
"Just a small burn. I think they're releasing her from the

hospital tomorrow. Wanted to make sure she was okay after
inhaling all that smoke."

"All right. I'll grab a few magazines and head on over

there."

The conversation wound down and Robert hung up the

phone. The steady tick of the clock over the old TV drifted
through the living room. He studied the room and sighed.
Worn furniture with one too many stains filled the apartment,
a TV so old half the buttons were missing, the mismatched
end tables all handed down from Jerry or yard sale finds. The
only thing of value was the CD player in the corner, bought to
work on his acts for the club. Hell, a robber would peek inside
and laugh before leaving. Might even pity him enough to
leave the CD player.

He didn't have anything to offer anyone. He didn't have his

own house, and now that the club was gone, he was out of
work, he spent his time auditioning for dancing gigs, and he
didn't even own a car. No wonder he couldn't find someone
ready for a serious relationship.

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by C.M. Torrens

He didn't have a family. Well, none that would claim him.

His only friend was self-absorbed, and Robert probably
wouldn't hear from him again until his fling with the cop was
over. He didn't have anything.

He ran his fingers over his lips again. Except for a kiss with

a relative stranger.

He smiled at the memory. That wasn't a bad thing to have.

[Back to Table of Contents]

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Chapter Three

Death walked down the street, eager to be away from

temptation. The thought of ever being in such a situation had
never entered his mind. Living people never saw him. Not the
sane sort.

Robert was different. He wasn't mad, just more observant

than most. Special.

The weight of something familiar drifted in the wind. A cold

chill ran down his spine and the air grew heavy as the
presence grew closer. He stopped in front of a small cafe and
went inside to wait. No one paid him any attention as he took
a seat in the booth at the far end of the cafe.

A few minutes later another stepped into the cafe. Like

himself, the man was so average he was never noticed, but
Death saw him. Death knew his own.

The Reaper frowned and made his way through the cafe to

sit across the booth from him. Hard brown eyes bored into
him, and Death struggled to keep from fidgeting. His
interference had drawn Reaper to him and his stomach
twisted with worry.

"Hmm, it's been awhile since this has happened," Reaper

said.

Death said nothing and stared down at the placemat in

front of him. Colorful monsters and kid friendly games
splashed the paper with vivid hues.

"Why am I here?" Reaper asked.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Death shook his head and stared down at the placemat.

His finger traced the colorful monsters on the paper.

There was a long pause as Reaper stared off thoughtfully

into space. "You've interfered and pulled your target from his
destiny last night. His pain would have eased the transition."

"It was unintentional."
"That doesn't really matter though, does it?"
"No," Death said.
"You've been at this for a long time. You know how things

work. So why am I here? Fix it or I will."

"What happens if I don't?"
Reaper shot him a dark look. "Don't play games here. This

is someone's soul we're talking about. Things live and things
die—"

Death took a deep breath. "No, I'm serious. I want to

know. What happens if I can't fix things?"

"Can't or won't?" Reaper got to his feet. "Do what's best

for him and fix this. I know you've been here a long time,
longer than most, but this is a soul we're discussing. A living
soul. Do what you have to do."

Reaper moved through the cafe as a busy young waitress

scrambled to pull off her apron. The Reaper stroked her arm
like a caress and the woman dug through her purse never
acknowledging the touch. Keys in hand, she rushed to the
door and disappeared outside.

With a flash of white teeth, Reaper followed her out the

door like a hungry predator eager for his next meal.

Death got to his feet and left the cafe. He had his own

work to do.

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by C.M. Torrens

As he was drawn to his next assignment, memories

bubbled to the surface. Images flashed through his head of
times long since gone. Fields of men in armor, palaces and
plagues, burning cities and weeping children. Such
destruction and grief, little wonder he'd chosen to forget.

The memory of his beginning sent a painful ache through

him. Fear and pain had made him desperate. His lover lost,
his life's blood slipping away. He'd cursed the gods with such
venom... but that had been a long time ago. Those gods were
gone, that life more dream than memory.

He found himself in front of a hospital. The white building

shone like a beacon, filled with souls crying for release. He
stepped inside the long halls, finding his way through doors.
The doors unlocked at his touch as he willed them open. He
wandered the halls, looking for the souls that called to him.
Just two today.

He found his way to the children's ward, where a line of

beds filled the small ICU. He turned his attention to a little
girl, not more than six, at the far end of the room. Her head
bandaged and tubes running out of her tiny body. Her mother
sat holding her hand, whispering to her, telling her the day's
events. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she spoke.

Death slipped to the little girl's bedside and stroked her

cheek, releasing her soul from the motionless body. A tumble
of red curls framed her round face. It was hard to see what
she looked like beneath the tube that kept her breathing. Her
mother didn't look up at him. Her eyes focused on her child
and fingers clenched tight to a tiny hand.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

He stepped back and waited on the far side of the room.

Within minutes machines began to beep and doctors rushed
to the child, struggling to keep her alive.

Death smiled as the little girl sat up, her spirit whole and

sweet. She smiled back at him and he held out his hand.
Grinning, she skipped to his side, bubbly and filled with
energy. Red curls bounced around her round face and bright
eyes glittered with life. Her hand slipped into his. Her soul
tingled against his skin, less substantial than flesh, but more
electric.

He started to lead her away but she stopped and turned to

look at her mother. Tears poured down the older woman's
face as a nurse kept her away from the frantic doctors.

"Momma will be sad if I go," she said.
He looked down at her, waiting. This was not a decision he

could make, even for a soul as young as hers.

"Will momma come too?"
"She'll be along eventually."
"Promise?"
"Everyone has to leave at some point."
"Okay," she said, and Death led her out the door and down

the hall. "Where are we going?"

"On a grand adventure I think," Death said, leading her

through the hospital to another room at the far end of the
hall. "Someone else wants to go too. She's a very tired soul."

"Ooh fun," the little girl said and skipped happily at his

side.

Death stopped them in front of a door, and they both

walked into a room where an old woman lay sleeping. The

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

little girl watched as he stroked the old woman's cheek and
they stepped back to wait.

Several minutes passed and the machines began to beep.

Again, doctors rushed in to try and help, but the old woman
was already sitting up, ready to be away from her aged and
frail body. She smiled at them both, her soul so much
younger than the shell that had once housed her.

Death stepped out the door with his two charges. Nurses

passed through the spirits as he led woman and child out into
the hall.

"Simon?"
Death turned to see Robert in the hall holding a handful of

magazines. Machines beeped behind him as the doctors
struggled to revive the old woman. "Hello, Robert."

"We keep bumping into each other." Robert turned to

watch as the doctors gave up on reviving the old woman. "Did
you know her?"

"No. But I do have work to do." He hesitated torn between

duty and wanting to see Robert again. He glanced at the two
impatient spirits waiting for him. "I'll catch up with you later?"

Robert nodded. "Sure."
Death led the old woman and child off into somewhere

more private and opened the portal. He watched as they
smiled and stepped through the gate. He wondered what was
beyond and why he was never allowed to enter. He shook his
head, trying not to think about it and suddenly needing some
fresh air.

* * * *

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Robert stared after Simon. His face looked worn and his

long black trench coat billowed around his knees as he
disappeared down the hall. The beeps from the room brought
his attention back to the old woman, but the activity had
come to a close. A doctor shook his head and pronounced her
dead moments later. A nurse stopped in front of him,
sympathy in her eyes.

"Did you know her?"
Robert shook his head, and the nurse closed the door

behind her.

He turned his attention in the direction Simon had

disappeared, his mouth going dry as a thought struck him.
That was twice now that people had died while Simon was
around. He said he hadn't known the old woman, so why had
he even been in the room?

Robert took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was

freaking himself out for no good reason. People died all the
time. Could be any reason he was in the room. It could have
been the wrong room, or maybe he'd delivered some flowers
or something. He was a delivery person after all. People
delivered flowers and such to hospitals constantly.

He smiled at his stupidity and continued toward Maxine's

room. Although more a friend of Jerry's than his own friend,
he could at least cheer her up some.

Maxine's room was crowded with friends and relatives as

she recounted the story of the club fire. Robert grunted the
occasional confirmation and eventually slipped from the room.
He didn't find the club fire as exciting as everyone else. The
memory still gave him a shudder.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Robert found Simon waiting for him outside the hospital.

The twin glass doors framed him as he stood propped against
one of the pillars outside the entrance. Simon's dark eyes
gazed up into the sky, his profile striking in the evening sun.
The light creases of age around his eyes seemed a little
deeper and the sharp planes of his face more grim in the
dying sun.

A man walked past him and flicked his cigarette away,

striking Simon's leg.

"Hey, that was rude!" Robert stepped out of the hospital.
The man blinked with surprise and shook his head before

walking into the hospital.

Simon's eyes turned to him, and a small smile touched his

lips. Robert's heart skipped just a bit under his gentle
scrutiny. The way his eyes softened and the sadness in his
face made a sweet tingle spread through his gut.

"Bad day?" Robert asked.
"A long one."
"And you waited out here for me?"
"I didn't have anything else to do at the moment." He

nodded toward the hospital. "Are you ill?"

"Me? No. A friend was burned in the fire. I just brought her

some magazines. Nothing serious."

"That's good."
They fell into step and started toward the parking lot.
"So, tell me about yourself."
Simon hesitated. "What would you like to know?"
"Do you have any family?"

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

He shook his head. "No. They're all dead. Long dead. What

about you?"

Robert frowned. "Maybe family wasn't the best subject to

start on. My mother's dead, and let's just say Dad and I don't
get along well."

Simon smiled and changed the subject for them. "Where

did you learn to dance?"

"You liked my dancing?"
"I like everything about you. You're unique beyond

measure."

Robert laughed. "Do lines like that work on most men?"
Simon shrugged. "I've never made such a statement to

anyone before."

"Truth?"
"I can't imagine lying to you."
Robert cleared his throat as heat crept across his neck.

"That's sweet."

"No, just the truth."
The manicured lawns of the hospital gave way to the

sparse tree lined streets. Tiny leaves and fresh greenery gave
life to the grim paved streets and block buildings.

"So, if I asked you anything, you'd tell me the truth?"
Simon stopped and studied him a long moment. "Yes."
Robert started them back on the path toward his

apartment. "How many lovers have you had?"

"Recently? None. I was with a man a very long time ago. It

seems like forever ago."

Robert waited and bit his lip expecting a similar question in

return. He wasn't sure how he'd answer. His need to find

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by C.M. Torrens

someone steady was a recent urge. The empty apartment he
had so loved felt more like an empty cell these days.

"Would you like to do something? I don't have to work for

awhile yet."

The question surprised Robert. Did Simon really not care?

All of his exes had asked. All had eventually gotten jealous of
his work. All had asked him to stop. Simon seemed different.

"You mean a date?"
Simon smiled suddenly as if surprised with himself. "Yes."
"Do you have something in mind?"
"Yes, but you have to stay very close to me and not make

a sound."

Robert grinned at the mysterious request. "Lead the way."
They chatted about simple things as they walked. The way

Simon listened to him as if craving to hear every useless word
that came from his lips thrilled him.

Evening turned to dusk as they reached their destination.

One of the best theaters in the city loomed in the distance.
Simon moved close and led him around the back of the
building. Junk littered the alley and Simon took his hand,
pulling him closer as they stopped in front of the stage door.

"Are you sure—"
"Shh," Simon said and reached for the door. The door

opened under his touch and a security guard jumped out of
his seat a few feet from the door as they stepped inside.

Robert's heart leaped in his chest. Fear and excitement

raced through his nerves. Simon's hand touched his lips and
pulled Robert closer. The press of Simon's body molded
around Robert's back and firm muscles hinted at a chiseled

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

form beneath his nondescript clothes. The security guard
stared past them a moment before shaking his head and
sitting back down.

Confused, Robert shot Simon a questioning look.
His date's expression rippled with sad amusement, but he

said nothing and moved them past the guard. The bustle of
actors and stagehands that crowded the backstage area
ignored them as Simon led him through the mob. Every time
he tried to speak, Simon's hand came up to silence him. The
wickedly mysterious smile that graced his features sent a
thrill through Robert's stomach. God, he loved a mystery
man.

The heat of Simon's skin so close made him lightheaded.

Robert swallowed hard and let Simon lead him back to a set
of stairs leading high overhead. Lights and other equipment
littered the long narrow catwalks and the steel grating
beneath their feet rattled as they walked.

Robert looked down at the stage and the mass of shrunken

chairs. A stagehand fiddled with props behind the curtain. He
gasped and squeezed his eyes shut as wave of dizziness
struck. His heart jumped in his throat he grabbed Simon's
arm. Everything looked so small from up here.

"I won't let you fall," Simon breathed in his ear. "I

promise."

A shudder ran down his spine, the heat of Simon's breath

washing away fear. Strong arms led him through the maze of
ropes and cords and lighting fixtures. He peered down
through the metal grating of the catwalk, both excited and
scared.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"What if it falls?" Robert asked.
"You don't believe that I could catch you before you fell?"
Robert grinned. "You'd keep a catwalk from falling?"
"If that's what it took."
Robert studied him a long moment. Simon seemed so

serious, as if he could do such a thing with ease. No trace of
jest or teasing in his words.

Simon motioned down the catwalk. "That is the best spot

in the theater. We can watch the show here."

"They won't mind?"
"They won't know," Simon said and led the way to a small

portion of the catwalk just off the main path. "Here, sit down.
The show will start soon."

He let Simon lead him back to a spot at the end of the

catwalk. Simon shrugged out of his jacket and laid it down on
the steel mesh for them to sit.

"What's playing?"
"Les Miserables."
The play was just beginning as Robert sat down, smashing

something soft under his weight. He gasped and stood back
up. "I think I crushed something."

Reaching into the pocket, he pulled out the white rose he'd

tossed to Simon at the club. The white petals showed no
signs of wilting, and the scent was as fragrant as the night at
the club. The idea that he had saved it despite the chaos of
that night made a soft glow rush through him. "You kept it?"

Simon studied him a long moment. "Why wouldn't I?"
Robert smiled down at the rose, a glow growing in his

chest. His breath quickened as he studied the man beside

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

him. The warmth of his body so close was such a distraction.
He tried to pull his attention back to the play, but the scent of
the rose in his hand kept drawing him back to the man who'd
kept it.

A light touch on his shoulder caught his attention and

Simon pulled him a bit closer as the light crew rushed around
after the first act. Only a few feet from their perch, the crew
went about their business, adjusting lights and tugging at
ropes. Robert wondered if Simon knew them or if he had paid
them for the bit of privacy and fantastic view. He could make
out actors racing for new costumes and props being pushed
into place behind the curtain. The bustle behind the curtain
reminded him of weekend shows at the Cream Dream, as
everyone tried to get ready for their turn in the spotlight.

He wondered if he'd ever get more than a two-bit job as a

professional dancer. He liked being on stage, he just wished it
were something more than stripteases.

"Your thoughts have gone dark," Simon said.
Robert pulled his eyes from the stage. "Just thinking."
He swallowed hard as Simon leaned close, and their lips

brushed in a light kiss. An electric wave washed over him.
Simon's light musk lingered in the air as he pulled away. All
dark thoughts evaporated and Simon's dark eyes glittered
with pleasure.

"I prefer that expression in your eyes."
"And what expression is that?"
"I'm not sure, but I find it pleasant."
He forced his eyes back to the stage but Simon's steady

breath only inches from his ear was too tempting a

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by C.M. Torrens

distraction. He wasn't sure what Simon had seen in his eyes
earlier, but one look from him now would scream lust.

"Do you like the play?" Simon asked.
Robert looked back down at the rose in his hand and held

it out to Simon. "I like the play just fine."

Simon's hand wrapped around his, capturing Robert's hand

and the rose. Robert felt his heart spike as a hot thrill surged
through him. He turned, leaning into those lips. The passion
that met him erased the play from his mind. His hands
worked their way under Simon's shirt to feel the hard muscles
beneath. He wanted to see, to feel, to explore.

He bit back a moan as hands found their way under his

shirt to tease his skin and pulled him closer. Their kiss grew
deeper, more electrifying. The rasp of rough skin against his
cheek and neck sent a tingle over his nerves. He reached for
the skin under Simon's shirt. The hard muscles and the tickle
of fine hair that crept down his stomach—he longed to see
just where that trail led. His cock ached, pressing painfully
against the front of his jeans. A hand pinched at his nipple
and he shuddered, a deep ache growing inside him. He let his
hand linger lower down the taut muscles of Simon's stomach
and the bulge in his pants, the impressive shape of Simon's
thick cock so enticing under the thin slacks.

Lips found his again. Hands lingered over his skin and

worked their way down in slow motion over his chest. Robert
pressed into the touch, eager for Simon's hand to move lower
until he could feel the heat of his hand through his jeans.

Applause interrupted their moment, and Simon pulled

away smiling. "You missed the ending."

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by C.M. Torrens

"I've seen it before," Robert said.
Simon looked back down on stage his eyes distant, his

eyes on the lead actor. "Valjean dies in the end."

"Yes, but his suffering is over."
The sadness returned to Simon's face and Robert reached

out and stroked his cheek. "Are you okay?"

The emotion cleared from Simon's eyes and a small smile

touched his lips again. "I'm much better when I'm around
you. You're more special than you know."

Robert grinned.
"Come on. I'll walk you home."

[Back to Table of Contents]

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Chapter Four

They walked in silence through the night. The sounds of

cars passing and laughter filled the air. Death took a deep
breath to calm the nervous energy that filled him as they
reached Robert's apartment. He had hopes for a kiss. The
sweet memory of their kisses had left him hungry for more.
Were there rules to such things?

Thoughts of Reaper's warning crept into his head and he

shook them away. He wanted a moment in time, just a
moment. After such a long time, he should be allowed this
one pleasure. Another kiss, another touch....

Robert cleared his throat as he unlocked the door. Death

swallowed hard and leaned in close for a kiss. Robert met him
half way and their lips touched. Soft lips grew hungry and
demanding. Death responded in kind, eager to take all Robert
had to give.

Death pressed him into the door, needing to taste him

again. Their tongues tangled, the light hint of something
sweet lured him deeper. A wondrous ache washed over him
as Robert pulled away with a gasp.

"Want to come in?"
Death hesitated, suddenly worried if they would be

interrupted. "I might have to go to work unexpectedly."

"But not right now."
Death smiled. "Not right now."

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by C.M. Torrens

Robert leaned up for another kiss. The hunger in those lips

took Death's breath away. Robert pulled him inside and the
door closed behind them.

Uneasiness quaked in Death's gut as he watched Robert

lock the door. Dim lights flooded the tiny apartment, shedding
light on the bare surroundings.

Robert bit his lip and motioned around the room. "It's not

much to look at."

"Very practical."
"Boring and cheap, you mean."
"No, you're far from boring. And I would never call you

cheap. Never." Death moved into the living room to get a
better look around.

Robert stepped close again. "Let me take your coat."
Nerves fluttered in his stomach as Robert reached to take

the coat off his shoulders. He pushed them aside and
shrugged out of his jacket. He caught Robert's arm before he
could move away and leaned in for another kiss.

Robert slipped into his arms like he was made to be there.

Their kiss grew hot with need, and Death's body burned with
hunger. The soft rustle of fabric hit the back of the couch as
Robert tossed their coats aside. Strong arms found their way
under his shirt stripping it off as they broke their kiss. He
tugged Robert's shirt away, eager to see the contoured body
hidden beneath.

Bronze skin, hard pecs, and firm stomach greeted him; the

lean, well defined body of a dancer. Death drank in the sight
and traced the line of his jaw with his fingers, savoring the
feel of rough skin. He let his hand move down Robert's throat

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by C.M. Torrens

and over his bare shoulder and started to trace the line he'd
made with his lips. The tingle of salt teased his tongue as he
reached the curve of Robert's neck, tasting his skin.

Robert's breath rasped along Death's neck, sending a

shiver down his spine. His cock ached with need, wanting to
be with and inside and around the unique man in his arms.
He found the round contours of Robert's ass, so firm in his
hand. Simon pulled Robert closer. The feel of Robert's stiff
cock against his, made him moan with want. Hungry kisses
lapped at his neck and shoulder as he squeezed the hard
cheeks of Robert's ass.

"I want you," Death said finding his lips again.
They stumbled into the bedroom, clothing abandoned.

Death's eyes lingered on the cut of his body, down to the stiff
cock between his legs as Robert lay across the bed. It stood
at attention in a nest of dark curls. He wanted to wrap his lips
around it and devour every bit of him.

"I want to taste you," Death whispered.
Robert smiled, his eyes locked on Death's cock. "Yeah, me

too."

Death stretched out head to toe beside him on the bed so

his lips touched Robert's stomach and began working their
way to the treasure of dark hair between Robert's legs. He
kissed his way slowly down to his balls, never actually
touching the stiff shaft. Hot breath tickled his groin and sent a
thrill of excitement through him. Robert pulled his hips closer
and began mirroring every movement of his tongue.

Pearls of come beaded the top of Robert's cock. Death

leaned in, taking in the deep masculine musk as he licked the

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by C.M. Torrens

tip clean. He sucked in a breath, as the heat of Robert's
tongue responded in kind. Death brought him to his mouth,
sucking and being sucked until he wasn't sure where they
ended and began.

The sensation was almost too intense. He wanted, needed

to feel again. So much time had passed since such emotion
boiled inside him. He sealed every touch, every curve, every
taste, the very scent of Robert in his memory. How he ached
never to be away from this man again.

Death pulled away suddenly, the pressure building to near

dizzying heights, his cock so stiff that he needed a moment to
relax or he'd never last long enough to please Robert.

Death rolled Robert onto his back and moved to meet him

lips to lips, tongue to tongue. He loved the sound of his name
on Robert's lips, the ache of need behind it. The hunger. He
pulled away and just took a moment to enjoy the sight
splayed in front of him. It almost seemed too incredible to be
real. He reached out and stroked the fine lines of Robert's
chest and abs, the feel of him as fine and smooth as he had
imagined. His chest twisted with emotion, as if his heart had
grown too much in his chest. He wanted this, every bit of
him. Wanted to mark him as his forever.

Robert twitched and shuddered under him, his legs

spreading with sweet invitation, and reached for the
nightstand drawer. He pulled out a tube and a tiny cellophane
package.

"Condom, babe. Can't be too careful."
Death looked down at the items a long moment. He knew

what condoms were, they prevented plagues and such, but he

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by C.M. Torrens

had never thought he would be in the position to try and use
one. He studied the package a moment. Tear here, was
written along one end. Nervous fear stole his breath.

Robert sat up on the bed and kissed him, his hand

wrapping around Death's as he stared at the package.

A small smile lit up Robert's features as he pulled away.

"Let me," he whispered.

Hot kisses nibbled across Death's neck, sending a rush

through him as Robert's hand wrapped around his cock.
Smooth steady strokes deepened his need as Robert slipped
the condom over him.

Death moaned, finding Robert's mouth. Hands grabbed for

him, pulling him closer. Heady passion enveloped him,
washing away all but Robert. He wanted to lose himself,
pretend this night would last forever, burn it into his brain so
the memory would never fade. Death seized Robert's wrists
and pinned him to the bed. Robert surrendered, melting
under him.

Blue eyes stared back at him, heavy lidded with lust. The

trust of such an act surprised and enticed him. The man
under him so willing to surrender to his touch.

He bent down, tasting his chest and found lube buried

under the blankets. He nibbled his way across Robert's chest
and pressed a slick finger into him. Robert moaned and Death
bit Robert's bare stomach. The hard muscles twitched under
his teeth as Robert caught his breath. The sound, the taste of
him under his tongue, and heat of his skin made him ache to
please. He moved his finger to massage that spot inside,
nipping into his skin. He kept a steady pace, opening him and

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Robert's breathing turned to a heavy rasp, squirming and
pushing against him.

"Simon—" The pleading in his voice was heavy with need.
Death looked up from his spot at Robert's navel. The

sound of his name on Robert's lips speared his heart. He
wanted to hear that again—that aching pleading—and to
know that Robert was speaking to him, begging him for more.

He moved his lips lower, licking the salt from Robert's skin.

He released Robert's wrists, letting his tongue tease his
stomach and hip and inside of his thigh. Fingers never slowed
or sped up the teasing pace.

"Simon, please," Robert moaned.
"Have you no patience, lover?"
"Not tonight."
Death kissed his way back up Robert's chest, cock resting

at his eager entrance, making him wait. Robert moaned and
moved to grab his ass, but Death caught his arms and pinned
them to the bed.

Robert bowed his back as Death nipped hard down his

chest. The whimper of lust that rasped in his ear gave him a
rush.

Death eased inside, pushing past the muscle and into

Robert's warmth. He smothered Robert's cries of pleasure,
swallowing them down as he eased deeper. Warm lips tore
away from him, gasping for air and tickling his skin. He
grabbed Robert's hips as hands pulled them closer, grinding
them together. Death sucked in a breath and gave in to
Robert's demands. His thrusts growing deeper, caution
abandoned.

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He wrapped his arms around Robert, needing to hold him,

possess him. His cock throbbed, Robert so tight around him.
He could get lost in the sensation. Just being, feeling, so
complete and whole.

Death moaned, loving the primal need driving them

together. Hands grabbed his ass and fingers dug into
sensitive flesh, pulling them together with every thrust. He
felt Robert's hand move to the cock, stiff between them, slick
with pre-cum. The pressure building and growing to explosive
heights. Robert ground down into every thrust as he stroked
himself, pushing to the edge.

Death felt his own release grow closer, the tension in his

gut growing, his balls rising. Hot come spilled between them.
The shudder of Robert's body and arch of his back triggered
his own release. A rumble grew in his chest as he came. The
aching release was so intense, he half collapsed over Robert's
body.

They held each other a long moment. The warmth of

Robert's body under him and the afterglow of sex made his
whole body tingle.

Death shifted his weight and rolled to the bed. Robert

slipped into his arms, and he wondered how he had gotten so
attached to this man. The scent of him, the sound of his
voice, everything so fresh and alive. He wanted to keep
things as they were, hold him until fate forgot he existed.
Keep him whole and here and his.

The ache in his chest grew again. The pain of the future to

come. He pulled Robert tighter to his chest and kissed his
cheek.

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Robert looked up at him, concern flashing behind those

blue eyes. "Are you okay?"

He pushed the dark thoughts away and nodded. "I'll be

fine."

"I thought you said you weren't going to lie to me."
"I'm not, I'll always be fine."
Robert frowned. "I think you and I have a different

definition of fine. Want to talk about it?"

"Not tonight. Tonight I just want to lie right here."
Robert laid his head back against Death's chest. "Yeah. Me

too."

Death watched as Robert drifted off to sleep and held him

close. He didn't sleep. He never slept. He spent the time just
watching Robert. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the
sweet tickle of breath against his neck made him sigh with
pleasure. He had never thought to have even one moment
like this since his curse.

He ran his hand through Robert's hair and tried not to

think about the future. Robert called him Simon. To hear his
name said with such need from Robert's lips, to know Robert
was speaking to him. To be seen, felt, and to feel. Gods, to
feel again. He hadn't had a desire for such a thing until he
met Robert. His lover had awakened something inside him
he'd thought long dead. He didn't want to let it go.

He winced. He had to let him go. Soon.
He swallowed hard. He didn't want to know how soon.

Didn't want to see.

Death closed his eyes, uncertain. Maybe he could be

Simon for a bit longer. Be Robert's Simon.

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Simon kissed his lover's cheek. The prickle of his chin

rough against his lips. Robert stirred a bit. Sleepy eyes
opened and a smile touched his face.

Simon bent down and kissed his lips. His body tingled with

life from every touch and every kiss, but a call was growing in
his bones. A soul begging for release.

"I have to go soon," Simon said, waking Robert from his

gentle slumber.

"You can't stay the night?"
"No, but if you want, I can come back later. When I'm

finished. I'm pretty sure I'll have a busy day though."

"I'll be here."
Simon smiled and kissed him again before slipping out of

bed to dress. He had work to do, but he also had something
to look forward to when he was finished. He might not
deserve it, and he couldn't be sure how long it would last, but
he was going to enjoy every moment.

* * * *

Simon wound his way through the city streets and stopped

at a familiar alley. The old man's spirit hovered just inside. He
smiled up at him as Simon paused in the entrance.

"They found my body a few hours ago," he said.
"That's good. I'm glad for you." Simon said and looked off

into the distance. "Would you tell me what you hear? What
the portal calls out?"

The old soul smiled. "It's the least I could do. You've been

so patient with me. I'm sure I've been a bother."

"No. I don't mind."

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Simon opened the gate and watched as the old man

hovered in front of the portal. A torn expression crossed the
old man's face.

"They say you'll know when it's your time," the old man

said. "I'm sorry."

Pain lanced through Simon's chest and he forced a smile.

"That's okay."

With a sad smile and a wave, the old soul slipped into the

portal and was gone.

Simon sighed heavily and waved the portal away. Reality

snapped back into place as if the hole had never existed.
Pushing the familiar ache aside, he started back on his path
to another soul.

The ripple of sense from another Death washed over him

and he turned to look down the street. Reaper again. Would
the gods not give him just a small bit of peace? They denied
him even the smallest peek and soon would steal even his
brief affair with Robert away.

Simon said nothing and waited for Reaper to fall in step

beside him. They seemed to be drawn toward the same
direction.

"He'll ask, you know," Reaper said.
"Ask what?"
"He'll ask to stay. They always do."
Simon shot him a dark look but said nothing.
"You can't ignore the call of his soul. He will either die or

ask for life. What will you do, Death?" Reaper chuckled. "He
stays or goes, either way you lose him. Ah, what a
conundrum."

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by C.M. Torrens

"Don't you have work to do?"
"Always, and so do you. Tick-tock. Time is running out."
Simon ignored him and Reaper drifted away. The last thing

Simon needed was Reaper hounding him. Of all the Deaths,
Reaper was the strangest he'd met.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the task

at hand and went in search of a soul.

* * * *

The phone rang beside the bed, waking Robert from his

sleep. Pleasant dreams of Simon still lingered as he picked up
the phone.

"What?" he muttered.
"Is that how you always answer the phone at 10 a.m.?"

Jerry said through the phone.

Robert forced his eyes open and rubbed the sleep from his

eyes. "I was up late."

"Ooh, fantastic. What's his name?"
"Why does it always have to be a man?"
"Uh, unless you were jerking off all night, I can't imagine

any other reason you'd be up late when you have an audition
today."

"Oh shit!" Robert said, sitting up. "I can't believe I forgot.

Damn!" He jumped out of bed and scrambled for clothes.
"What time is it?"

"Ten after ten. What time is the audition?"
"Eleven thirty," he said, relaxing just a bit.
"Okay, so you have time to tell me who he is and how

good he is in bed."

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"No, I don't. But his name is Simon and the rest is none of

your business." Robert carried the phone into the bathroom
with him as he started the shower. "I gotta go, Jerry. What
did you need?"

"Nothing... Officer Green was a wash. The 'I'm not really

gay' sort. 'I just like to be fucked and suck cock'. Whatever."

"Sorry to hear that. Hey, we'll talk later, okay? I'll call you

when I get back."

"Sure. Good luck."
"Thanks."
Robert hated saying goodbye with Jerry in such a grim

mood, but he had to get ready. He needed work and this was
what he had come to California to do, not dance in some strip
club. Maybe he was hoping for the impossible. He hadn't
seemed to catch anyone's eye. A few bit parts here and there,
but nothing worth writing home about. Not that he would
dare tell his family anything about his life. Not that his father
would ask, let alone call.

He dressed quickly after the shower and raced for the

dance hall hosting the auditions.

The audition didn't go well.
He'd waited hours in line for the open call, worrying that

Simon might show up and not find him home when he'd said
he would be, and wondering if Jerry was okay. It was just too
much stress for him to make an impression, or maybe he just
wasn't good enough no matter what. Not that exotic dancer
was a bad gig. It paid well. Still, he couldn't do that forever.
He was nice to look at now, but he was only twenty-six. What
would he look like at thirty-six? What about forty? He couldn't

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imagine trying to dance at forty. They'd laugh him off the
stage.

Deep in thought, he wandered aimlessly, trying to decide

what to do next, and then he caught a glimpse of Simon
down the street. He started to race to catch up but something
stopped him. Another man stood across the street watching
Simon. He was so plain, he melted into the background. The
atmosphere around the man sent a chill down his spine and
the air seemed to turn colder.

Robert rubbed his arms and turned to look back at Simon.

Oblivious to the watcher, Simon continued on his way. His
stomach twisted. The watcher set his nerves on edge. Robert
jogged down the street, trying to catch up with Simon.

The chill of eyes on his back made him turn and his blood

ran cold as those dark eyes turned on him. He came to a
dead stop and the man smiled. The dark amusement in his
eyes made Robert uneasy. He scanned the busy street trying
to find Simon again, but the street stood empty.

His heart quickened in his chest, and he tried to ignore the

persistent prickle of eyes on his back. He sped up his pace in
the direction Simon had disappeared and glanced back over
his shoulder to see if the other man was following him, but he
was gone too.

A shudder ran down his spine and he took a deep breath,

trying to lose the feeling of being watched. He rounded the
next corner, but the sparse foot traffic didn't reveal any clues
as to where Simon had gone.

"Damn," he muttered.
"Looking for someone?"

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by C.M. Torrens

Robert jumped and staggered back as the watching man

stepped out from between two buildings. "Who are you? Why
were you watching Simon?"

The man smiled showing off perfect white teeth. "Simon?

Is that what he told you his name was?"

"Why? Isn't it Simon?"
"I wouldn't know. It could be. Anything's possible. Well,

almost anything."

Robert studied the man a long moment. "I think I should

go."

He smiled. "Nice meeting you, Robert Alan Lasker. Tell

Simon hello for me."

His skin crawled at the purr behind his words. How had the

man known his name? He swallowed back the lump in his
throat and backed away. Colliding with a passing jogger, he
jumped. Caught up in a tangle, they barely managed to keep
from falling.

"Sorry," Robert muttered. Turning back between the

buildings, he frowned. The man had disappeared, leaving him
with the creepy afterglow of his presence.

Shrugging off the disquiet, he scanned the area for Simon.

Torn between finding him and going home, he started in the
direction that might lead him to both.

After about an hour, he had all but given up seeing Simon

again.

Then something caught his eyes across the street. Simon

stood next to an old man beside a bus stop. The old man was
arguing with an old woman, probably his wife, as they waited
for a bus. The pair stood off to one side, directly in front of

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Simon, their argument growing more heated so it rose above
the pitch of the roaring traffic. Simon studied the man a long
moment, before touching his shoulder and stepping back
away from the pair.

The strange action surprised him. Perhaps they were

relatives. He started to wave to Simon and pressed the
button to the crosswalk. The old man bent over suddenly
grabbing his chest. The traffic whipped past at a frantic pace.
Simon stood unmoved, watching as the old man staggered
into the road. His wife reached out to grab him but missed,
and he half collapsed as a car smacked into him.

Robert gasped, shock spreading with mind-numbing speed.

The old woman's screams and wails filled the street, and
traffic screeched to a stop. People gathered around the bus
stop and shouted for help. Simon stood immobile in the
chaos, oblivious to the cries around him, and their eyes
locked. Something in his eyes said it. The sadness. He was
responsible somehow. The old woman in the hospital, the
newspaper photo, the club... those weren't coincidences.

Had Simon killed those people? A serial killer? The club

was an accident, but the hospital, the photo, the old man....
He ran his hand through his hair and stared at Simon. His
heart raced and his mouth went dry. Fear twisted in his gut
and his throat tightened. His mind reeled. Shock and
uncertainty hit him, drowning out thought. Simon studied
him, and a chill ran down Robert's spine. Simon turned slowly
and walked away. More confused than ever, Robert staggered
back to his apartment trying to sort out what he'd seen.

[Back to Table of Contents]

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Chapter Five

The knock echoed through his apartment. Robert jumped

and spun to look at the front door.

He'd been on edge since he got home hours ago, expecting

Simon to come pounding on his door. He'd considered calling
Jerry and telling him about what he'd seen, but it all sounded
so weird and creepy. Every time he thought he should call
and had rehearsed what he'd say, it just sounded like insane
babblings. It wasn't like Simon had threatened him—just the
opposite. He felt safe with him.

Robert stared at the hardwood door, wondering if he

should answer the knock.

"Robert," Simon called. "Can we talk?"
He swallowed hard and said nothing.
"Please?"
He pursed his lips together, wishing Simon would just

leave.

The sound of shuffling feet drifted from outside into his

apartment.

"It's... hard to explain. I was hoping you'd let me."
Maybe he had gotten things wrong. What if it was just a

strange set of weird events?

He stared at the blank TV in front of him, debating whether

to open the door or not. The quiet of the late evening
descended, and he couldn't be sure if Simon had left or not.
Getting to his feet, he took a deep breath and stared at the
door. The clock over the TV ticked, each second beating

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through the small apartment. The heavy air sucked the life
out of the room, and he moved to the entry hall. He pressed
his ear to the door and listened for the sound of Simon
outside.

"Tell me to leave and I will," Simon whispered from the

other side.

"Tell me it's not what I think," Robert said.
"It's not what you think."
He unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open. The

chain caught the heavy wood, leaving it to hang open just a
few inches.

Simon stood in the hall, his eyes were dark with worry and

hints of crow's feet creased his face. Tiny lines of age
accented the frown on his supple lips. Robert wouldn't have
called him striking, but the more he looked at him, the more
Simon stood out. His strong Roman nose, firm chin, and those
eyes. Those dark, haunted eyes.

"What are you?" What, not who.
"May I come in?"
Robert hesitated. There had been countless times Simon

could have hurt him, but he had saved him instead. The
memory of his strong arms wrapped around him as the lights
collapsed stirred his blood more than he thought it should.
Their night together, Simon's arms, his kiss—God, how he'd
loved the taste of him. He ached to hold him again. He hated
to admit he wanted to touch him. He at least owed him the
chance to explain.

He closed the door, unlocking the chain before letting

Simon inside.

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"I saw you with the old man. You touched him and he fell

in the street. Did he die?" Robert asked.

"Yes."
"You didn't help him. You could have helped him. You

could have pulled him out of the way. Like you did for me."

"I shouldn't have done that."
Robert stared at him, a shocked numbness spreading over

him and fear beginning to creep under his skin. His chest
tightened as he searched Simon's face. He had thought things
were—He shook his head. He didn't know what he thought.

"You shouldn't have saved me?" Robert asked.
Simon hesitated. "I didn't say I regretted it."
"What are you?"
Simon took a deep breath and met his gaze. His dark eyes

grew intense with power, and a chill ran down Robert's spine.
The moment was gone and Simon returned to his usual quiet,
sad self.

"You tell me."
Robert backed into the couch. He didn't think he wanted to

know. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. A
strange panic gripped his chest and he tried to blink Simon
into focus. His image blurred and faded. Thoughts and
memories tumbled through him and disappeared before he
could grasp them. It was getting harder to focus on Simon.
Harder to see him, to think about him. Dizziness washed over
him, as if he had been living a dream these past few days.

"Don't. Please," Simon begged. His voice cracked in the

dim room. "Robert, the moment you don't want to know,

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everything will change. Please don't do that. It's been so
long...."

Robert grabbed his head, trying to focus. Simon's image

began to fade, drifting away like smoke. His chest ached as if
he was losing something important. Something real. He
moaned with the pain, and panic ate at his chest. Something
screamed at him not to let it go, but he couldn't remember
what "it" was. The world twisted and spun, his mind reeled.
These past days were just some strange dream he'd had
while recovering from the shock at the club. That had to be it.

Strong hands reached for him, pulling him close. Gentle

lips brushed against his mouth. He closed his eyes. The
longing in that kiss. The sweet taste of winter on his tongue,
strong hands holding him, the bite of Simon's musk filled his
senses. Memories snapped back. He shook his head and a
wave of dizziness washed over him. The whole world seemed
to snap back into focus as Simon's lips left his.

Robert swallowed the worry creeping into his chest. "What

just happened?"

"I didn't want to lose how special you are. Do you know

now how long it's been since someone wanted to know me?
No one wants to know me. They don't see me, but you did."

"What are you?"
"Can we just not worry about that? You just almost left,

forgot me like a dream, willed me away from your sight and
memory. You didn't want to know. I am, most likely, what
you think I am. I take things and deliver them... elsewhere."

A chill ran down Robert's spine. He couldn't bring himself

to say the word. He walked into the kitchen, needing some

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space. His mind reeling, he wiped his damp palms on his
pants and tried to stay calm.

Easier said than done.
His mind turned over everything Simon had told him as he

opened the fridge for something to drink that was stronger
than milk. Not even a beer to be found.

He cleared his throat and closed the fridge. "Others don't

see you?"

"No, they don't want to, so they don't."
Robert thought about the club, how the waitresses had

ignored Simon, how he had walked through the crowd like a
ghost. How Jerry hadn't noticed him or even really
remembered he had existed. So unusual for Jerry. A hero
would have had him drooling. In the hospital no one had
stopped him as he left the old woman's room. The sound of
the machine as it flatlined still rang in his ears. The old
arguing couple and the photo of the pile up. How Robert had
almost forgotten him?

Robert closed his eyes. Death? Simon didn't look like

Death. No dark robes, skull face, or scythe, just the face of
the man he had grown to care about.

His mouth went dry, and he forced himself to swallow. "Am

I next?"

Robert couldn't bear to look at him. Worried what he'd see

in those dark eyes. He stared at the front of the refrigerator.

"Everyone dies, Robert, but no. Not today."
He relaxed a notch, the tension easing from his shoulders.

"Soon?"

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by C.M. Torrens

"I don't know times, I just know when I'm called to a soul,

that's all."

"And at the club? Was I supposed to die then?"
"I... delayed a series of events that's all. No, you weren't

to die there."

Robert's head spun, a heavy weight growing in his chest.

It squeezed his lungs making it hard to breathe. "I saw
another one. Like you, I think. He was watching you."

"When I interfered, I changed things. I'm supposed to put

you back on track."

"And my eventual death," Robert whispered. His head

reeled and fear choked him. How was he supposed to respond
to that?

"Like I said, everyone dies."
"Everyone but you."
Simon said nothing and Robert took a deep breath trying

to wrap his head around things.

He stared down at the kitchen counter a long moment

before gathering up the courage to look across the tiny
kitchen at Simon. "I don't want to die, Simon. Please don't let
me die."

"Don't ask for things when you don't know the

consequences of your request," Simon said. "Don't ask for
that, please. Take it back."

"Why? No!" Fear choked him and his voice cracked. He

fought to keep a handle on his emotions, but it was all too
much too soon. He gasped for air and looked away, panting
around the deep hole that had just opened up in his soul.

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He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave. The very

idea that it would all be over soon tore at his guts. He had
just gotten what he had dreamed of. A quiet prince with all
the trimmings.

"Robert, please."
A heavy silence fell between them.
"Would it have been easier if I had let you forget me?

Greedy of me, perhaps, to want such a thing. To keep you as
you are. I didn't want to be a half-forgotten dream to you.
It's been so very long—"

Robert hesitated, uncertain, trying to squash the fear that

threatened to overwhelm him. He looked down at the mock
marble counter top and ran his hand over the speckled
surface. The sound of Simon's footsteps whispered across the
tile floor behind him.

"Please, Robert. Take it back."
The heat of Simon's breath on his neck sent a tingle down

his spine. Turning to face him, Robert shook his head,
emotions tearing him in all directions.

Simon bent down and kissed him. Robert wasn't certain of

anything anymore. His chest tightened and confusion made
him lightheaded. Passion teased his mouth, and the taste of
winter tingled on his tongue, so enticing. He couldn't think,
couldn't breathe.

He jerked his mouth away and tried to put some space

between them. Simon grabbed his face, jerking him back. Hot
lips smothered his mouth. Robert fought the sweet arousal of
his demanding touch. So present, so hot.

"Simon—" The protest sounded weak even to his own ears.

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Simon kissed him again, pressing him into the fridge. The

handle bit into his spine and hands pulled his hips close. The
fierce friction of Simon's cock against his made him moan. His
confusion gave way to lust. Simon's body so close, the
warmth, the taste of his kiss. Robert gasped for air, tearing
his lips away.

The pain and sadness in Simon's eyes tore at his soul. A

pleading look. For what he wasn't sure. Understanding?

A gentle hand stroked his cheek, and Robert winced and

looked away.

"Please, Robert," Simon whispered.
The emotion in his voice made Robert's heart ache, and

soft lips brushed against his neck. His resistance shattered
and he turned to meet Simon's kiss. He burned with need so
intense it crushed worry and doubt. He felt complete. The
memory of Simon's touch, the longing in his voice. Robert
pulled Simon closer, fingers tangling in his hair. Tongues
battled, the taste of him so different. Addictive. Strange, how
the touch of Death could make him feel so alive.

Simon's groin pressed against him, stiff and demanding.

Robert's cock ached, throbbing, needing to be free of the
clothes confining him. He reached for Simon, annoyed by the
shirt and desperate to feel bare skin against him. Cloth
twisted through his fingers as he fumbled for the buttons.
Impatience took over and buttons popped and shot across the
room. Simon's hands were no less hungry helping him strip.
He wanted more of that demanding touch. Robert hands
searched for skin as hot breath sent a shudder down his
spine. He buried his head in Simon's neck, tasting his skin,

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inhaling his scent. The tingle of salt danced on his tongue and
he reached for the top of Simon's pants.

The fridge rocked behind them as Simon's desperate hand

pulled his pants loose. Strong fingers wrapped around his
cock, freeing Robert from the confines of his pants. A small
moan escaped him. Each stroke brought him closer to the
edge as he reached for Simon. He jerked Simon's pants open,
eager to feel the smooth, stiff cock beneath. Simon's moan
rasped against Robert's neck, and he shuddered as teeth
nipped at his skin.

He felt the pressure building as little nips teased his

nipples. He stroked faster, hoping to bring Simon closer.
Wanting him inside, cock buried so deep.

A second later Simon moved, bending him over against the

kitchen counter, hip bones grinding into the edge. Something
tumbled behind him as Simon's hand returned to his cock,
and an oil slick finger slipped into Robert's ass. Then another,
the burn, the ache, that wonderful spot. He wanted more.

His hands tried to find a hold on the smooth counter top

without success. Simon demanded control, and Robert gave it
to him. He wanted Simon to take him, have him, fuck him
until he screamed. He stifled a cry of pleasure and pain at the
rough handling. The dull pressure of Simon's cock hovered at
his entrance. Simon jerked them together, diving deep. Pain
and pleasure exploded around him. He cried out, his tight ass
stretching, burning—the heat so intense it took his breath
away. His balls rose, need for release building, as Simon
worked his way deeper, each thrust filling him so that every

His Soul to Take
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stroke moved Simon deeper and rubbed against that sweet
spot. He wanted more. God, he ached for it.

Simon's hands grabbed his hips, pulling him back into the

final thrust and filling him completely.

Robert cried out, lightheaded with pleasure. Simon ground

into him, each thrust more frantic and demanding. His grip
grew vise-like, fingers digging in with every thrust. Robert felt
the pressure building, the hot ache as his balls rose. The need
for release so close, he hovered on the edge.

"Oh fuck, Simon," Robert gasped, begging for that final

push.

Simon pulled out slowly. Robert whimpered, afraid he'd

stop. A sudden push tipped him over the edge. He shuddered
with orgasm as the explosive release hit him. His whole body
tingled and legs gave out as he came. Simon's grip on his
hips tightened, keeping him from slipping.

Robert felt a primal growl, the quake of Simon deep inside

him before he collapsed on top like a warm blanket. The
sound of their harsh breathing rang through the still air.

They lay panting across the counter, neither wanting to

move. Robert didn't think he could, even if he tried. Weak
with pleasure, Simon's arms around him like a vise. He loved
the feel of such strength around him. A possessive,
demanding strength.

Simon moved first and stroked his cheek. "I didn't hurt—"
"No. I'm fine, more than fine."
The tickle of Simon's stubble brushed the back of Robert's

neck as he carefully released him. Robert stood on his own

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

two feet and turned to face him. Simon's eyes were intense
pools of liquid brown.

Simon's arms wrapped around him, and Robert held him

tight.

"Don't forget me, Robert. Please don't forget me."
"I won't. I promise."
Kisses showered his neck and shoulder, as Simon's arms

held him close. He buried his head into Simon's chest and
neck, wanting their small moment to last forever.

[Back to Table of Contents]

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Chapter Six

Simon stared down at the bowl of fluffy white and yellow

popped corn Robert set in his lap.

Robert laughed. "It's just popcorn."
"I see that. It just looks strange."
"You've never had popcorn?"
Simon stared down at the bowl as Robert plopped down on

the couch beside him. "I don't recall ever eating corn."

"You're serious? Do you eat?"
"I suppose I could. I've just never seemed to have the

need."

Robert reached into the bowl and pulled out a single fluffy

piece. "Open up."

Simon hesitated but opened his mouth. Salt and butter

and an odd sweet, almost wheat flavor spread over his
tongue. The fluffy bit melted, as if deflating against his
palate. The strange texture morphed in his mouth even
before he could swallow.

Robert's eyes never left his face as he pondered the new

taste. "Well? What do you think?"

"I'm not sure. Different. I wasn't sure what to expect."
"How long has it been since you've eaten?"
Simon smiled, his eyes traveling slowly over Robert's body

as he remembered the previous night. "I suppose that
depends on what you'd consider a meal."

Robert laughed. "You do have a sense of humor after all. I

like this side of you."

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Robert grabbed the popcorn and shifted to sprawl across

Simon's lap so that he was propped against the arm of the
couch. Simon ran his hand through Robert's thick black hair
and turned back to the TV. Such a normal thing to be doing
like sitting on a couch watching TV. Oddly comforting.

Robert's hand reached out and touched a scar on his bare

chest that stretched several inched across his chest and down
his ribs. "Where did this come from?"

The scar had faded with the years but still dominated his

chest. "A sword."

"A sword?" Robert echoed.
The incredulous tone in his voice made Simon smile. "Or it

might have been an ax. It's been a very long time. War is
bloody business. The blade sliced through my armor. I was
left to die on the battlefield."

"You died?"
Simon ran his hand over Robert's cheek. "No. I'm still very

much alive. Why? Do I seem dead to you?"

"No, anything but."
He watched a moment as Robert munched on popcorn

from the bowl sitting on his chest and reached out to take
another piece.

"Careful, it's addicting."
Simon frowned, pulling his hand away from the bowl.

"Addiction isn't a good thing, Robert. It can be very
dangerous."

Robert laughed. "It's a joke, babe. I just mean that once

you get to like it, you'll want more. It's not bad for you really,
not like a drug or something. You'll just like it a lot."

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Simon loved the way Robert's eyes lit up when he said

something his lover found amusing. The sound of his laughter
and pleasure in his face. That was addicting then. Everything
about him. He wanted more and didn't think he'd ever be
whole again without him.

"Here, have some more," Robert said, holding up the bowl.
Simon took a few pieces from the bowl and ate them

slowly. Robert did have a point. Popcorn was something that
made you want to eat more of it.

He stared down at Robert and stroked his cheek. Vivid blue

eyes stared up at him and a light smile lit up Robert's face.

"Why do you see me? Why are you so special?"
Robert grinned. "I was looking for you."
"For me?"
"For someone like you. Someone for me."
Simon bent down and kissed his lips. Pulling Robert closer,

he turned his attention back to the movie. They ate popcorn
and chatted about simple, nonsensical things. Like real
couples did.

With a pleasant sigh, he let himself enjoy the moment and

pretend he was free.

* * * *

Simon watched Robert sleep. They hadn't discussed

anything more about what he was or what the future held. He
couldn't decide if he was disappointed or relieved. He wanted
terribly to live a life, a real one, but he couldn't be certain
how long this would last. He didn't want to know.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

He buried his head in the crook of Robert's neck and pulled

him back closer to his chest. The curve of Robert's ass nestled
near his cock. He fought the urge to wake him. Robert
needed sleep, even if he didn't. Robert stirred and a sleepy
hum filled his ears. Simon kissed the back of his neck. He
could lie like this forever if only he was allowed.

To want to spend time with him, to ache at the very

thought of losing him, that was love, wasn't it? He wasn't
sure. It had been so long since such emotions held him in
their grasp.

The call of another soul to be taken rippled through him.

He didn't want to move. He wanted to stay like this forever.
The call grew louder but there was still time, and dawn was
on the rise.

He kissed Robert's back and felt him stir awake. Simon

eased his grip around him and Robert turned to face him with
sleepy eyes, not quite awake.

Simon found his lips, kissing him, working his way down

his chest. He wanted to taste him before he had to go. Give
him something pleasurable to start his morning.

His lips slid down the firm muscles of Robert's stomach, his

cock coming to life with morning needs. Simon moved slowly,
running his tongue over Robert's cock and balls, kissing the
inside of his thigh, before wrapping his lips around his firm
shaft.

A groan escaped Robert, the sound like music. He sucked

the stiff cock in his mouth, caressing Robert's balls and
teasing his entry. The rich musk of him filled every breath.
Robert's breath grew quick as Simon swallowed him down,

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

taking every last inch into him. He paused a moment to wet
his fingers and eased them inside before taking him in his
mouth again.

Robert's gasp of pleasure filled the air as Simon found that

spot just inside, rubbing and sucking, quickening his pace.

The rise of Robert's balls was so enticing that Simon

sucked harder, wanting to taste him. He moved his fingers,
fucking him harder. Fingers tangled in his hair and hips
rocked into his pace. The rush of warmth in his mouth, a
taste so unique to Robert, that he savored every drop. With a
last, gentle squeeze to his balls, he milked the last drops and
moved up to kiss Robert's lips.

With a hum of pleasure, Robert devoured the lingering

taste from his lips.

"Damn, what a way to wake up," Robert rasped, his breath

still heavy.

Simon grinned down at him. "I would wake you like that

every day if I could."

"How'd you sleep?"
"I don't."
Robert's eyes looked distant for a moment. "Do you think

this can work?"

"I don't know, but I need to go. I've put it off too long as it

is," Simon said and winced as the nagging ripple through his
nerves started to grow painful.

"Are you okay?"
"It's just a call. Souls are like children, demanding to be

taken when the time comes. The whimper becomes a cry, and
the cry becomes a bone vibrating scream," Simon said.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"Painful?"
"Incredibly so." He sat up and kissed Robert before

slipping from the bed to get dressed. "I'll be back as soon as I
can."

Simon stepped out of Robert's apartment a few minutes

later. The familiar creeping chill of another close by set his
teeth on edge. Frowning he went to the bus stop and waited.
Buses were quicker than walking and often stopped for
passengers.

A few seconds later he watched as Reaper walked down

the street and stopped at the bus stop beside him.

"Tsk-tsk. This is really not looking good for you," Reaper

said.

Simon shot him a dark look. "Stay away from him."
"You told me you were going to put him back on track and

what did you do? You grew emotionally involved. Worse still,
he made the request."

"He didn't mean it. He doesn't understand—"
"Does that really matter?"
"Yes."
"No. It doesn't. You did this to him. He made the request.

You must honor it now," Reaper said. "We all have rules to
live by."

Simon bit back the ache in his chest. "He didn't mean it."
"Of course he did. They always mean it. Not dying sounds

so delicious to a mortal until they find themselves stuck with
it." Reaper stared off into the distance. "Three days. You have
three days."

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

The bus stopped to let off a few passengers and Simon

climbed aboard, relieved to be away from Reaper. He had to
find a way to change Robert's mind before it was too late. The
idea of dooming him to this existence sent a shudder of panic
through him. Never seen, always drawn to their next
assignment, never really being a part of the world.... He
couldn't let Robert do it. Whatever was on the other side had
to be better than this.

He stepped off the bus several stops later, drawn to the

next soul bound for the other side.

* * * *

Simon slipped into the apartment just after mid-day. The

scent of pine cleaner filled the air, and he peeked around the
corner into the small kitchen. Robert sat at the kitchen table
with his bare back to him, flipping through a magazine.

He watched Robert, just enjoying the moment. The firm

muscles of his back and broad shoulders. An ache grew in his
chest and he pulled his eyes away. Reaper had said three
days. Was there so little time left? He considered looking but
couldn't bear the thought of him being right. Three days was
just so little time.

"When did you get home?"
Simon jerked his attention back to Robert. Home. He had

said home. Was this his home too? Did he have a home here?

"Just now."
"When do you have to work again?"
"I never know. I just go when they call."
Robert smirked. "Like living with a doctor."

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"Maybe so. I wouldn't know." He sighed heavily. So little

time left.

"Are you okay? Bad day?"
Simon forced a smile and moved to greet him. "Just

thinking."

He found Robert's lips and let thought drift away. They

needed to talk, but right now he just wanted to be near him.

"I know you aren't hungry, but we could go out or

something."

Simon wrapped his arms around behind him. "Only if you

want to. They won't see me. They never do."

"But you taste the food. We could share."
"I'd rather taste you."
Robert chuckled. "You like the taste of me?"
"I love the taste of you," Simon corrected and kissed his

neck.

Robert burst into laughter.
"Did I say something funny?" Simon blinked with surprise,

enjoying the sound of his laughter.

"If you weren't so serious, it'd be hilarious."
Simon pulled away. His thoughts kept turning to Robert's

request.

"What's wrong?" Concern filled Robert's face and blue eyes

sparkled with worry.

Simon winced. Time. There was just so little of it left. He

didn't think he could bear to lose Robert now. Not now. Gods,
why so soon? If he could keep him here without the curse,
he'd do it in a heartbeat.

"You have to take it back," Simon said.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"Take what back?"
"Your request."
Robert shook his head. "Just forget I asked."
"That's not the same thing."
Robert wrapped his arms around him and kissed his lips

and neck. For a moment Simon let himself forget the
conversation. The sweet tingle that swept through him battled
against the need to put things to rest.

Simon pulled away after a moment and took a deep

breath. "I'm serious. We need to talk about this."

Robert sighed heavily and leaned across the kitchen

counter. "No one wants to die, Simon."

"That's not true."
"Oh, yeah, and as Death, you go around asking people,

'Hey, you ready to die today?'"

Simon shot him a dark look. "Their time is already up. I

can't stop that from happening. I just sever the ties between
body and soul and show them the way. I don't make people
cross over. It's their choice."

"Then why are you so hung up on this request?" Robert

asked. "There's a loop hole, isn't there?"

Simon pulled away from his embrace. "I'm trying to

protect you."

"From what?"
"From becoming me!" Simon snapped, putting some

distance between them.

He felt Robert's eyes on him, burning into the back of his

neck. He ignored him and paced the small kitchen. Memories
of the past that he'd long tried to forget hit him with a rush.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

A Death stared down at his broken body as he bled over

the dark battlefield. The insane fear in his chest that he would
go to some torturous realm of Hades's making. He had
begged to live on, and Death had no choice but to grant his
request and remake him.

Not dead, not alive, but Death.
He had seen kingdoms fall and armies crumble. He had

walked through illness and despair. So much death, and
never once allowed to see beyond the portal. The portal he
had feared and now wished would open for him.

"Robert, please take it back. You have no idea what you're

asking. Fear makes you do stupid things. Don't make the
same mistake I did."

"I won't take it back! What's wrong with wanting to stay

with you? Don't you want to stay with me?"

"Of course! How could you think I wouldn't? But this is a

curse—"

"How can it be a curse if we can stay together?"
"But we can't! It's not called a curse for no reason."
"Do you know it wouldn't work?"
Simon hesitated. "No, but—"
"Then you don't know it wouldn't work."
He let out a growl of frustration. "But if it didn't, you risk

being here forever. You don't seem to grasp what that's like.
No one sees you, Robert. No one hears you, no one to speak
to but the dead. Not a century, not two centuries, but until
the end of time itself."

Robert stared at him a long moment. "How long has it

been for you?"

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Simon blinked at the sudden softening of Robert's tone as

his blue eyes lost their glow of anger. "Centuries. No, more
than that. I was a Byzantine solider, once upon a time. That
was a very long time ago. I've watched deaths in such
horrible manners you can't even imagine. The tortures people
are capable of, the suffering of plagues, and cries of children.
Please, Robert. Please, don't do this. I beg you. Not for me."

Robert said nothing and turned away.
Simon cursed softly as a soul began to call. "I have to go

again. Just please think about what I've said."

He moved to close the gap between them and watched the

tension seep from Robert's shoulders. Simon reached out to
touch his shoulder and brushed his lips to Robert's cheek.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."
Robert nodded.
Turning away, Simon grabbed his coat and left. Back to

work.

* * * *

Robert sat in the kitchen sipping coffee. His mind kept

turning to his impending doom. Simon hadn't said as much,
but his actions spoke louder than words. He was going to die
soon, and his personal Death was just waiting for his number
to be called.

The thought sent a chill down his spine.
That was unfair. Simon was the type of guy he had always

wanted. Strong, quiet, great in bed—had a job.

Robert snorted and stared down into his coffee.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

One day his job would be to take his soul too. Everything

dies. How could eternity be so bad with Simon there? What
was wrong with wanting to stay with him? Curse be damned.

Getting to his feet, he paced the kitchen, but nervous

energy drove him outside. Doors didn't lock against Death.
Simon opened them as if locks didn't exist. Sitting in the
kitchen wouldn't prevent Simon or any other Death from
coming to visit.

When Simon was with him all these thoughts faded. He

didn't think of anything but him. The taste of his lips, the
strength in his arms, the subtle scratch of his chin. When he
was gone all he thought about were the bad things. The dark
things that seemed to disappear in Simon's presence. Robert
felt safe when they were together. He could let go and never
even think harm would come. As soon as he was gone,
strange, or maybe not-so-strange, notions clouded his mind.
Death was his lover. Things couldn't get much stranger than
that.

He stepped outside, heading in no particular direction. He

just needed to be out.

Lost in thought, he didn't see the Reaper creep up beside

him until he was walking at his elbow.

Robert jumped and took a step back, staring at him.

Everything about him was very much like Simon. Simple,
average, easy to miss. His eyes though... Simon's eyes were
dark and haunted. This Death's held an almost malicious
gleam that sent an icy ripple through his bones.

"And so we meet again," he said.
"Who are you?"

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

A dark smile pulled at his lips, showing a perfect set of

white teeth. "Death, Grim, Thanatos, Angel of Death, Reaper,
whichever you prefer."

"What do you want?"
"I like you. What's not to like? Not often you people look at

us. Though I was hounded once for three days by a gypsy
woman while I waited for her time to come. Annoying woman.
She's found me twice, always begging to leave. So annoying."
Reaper leaned closer. "What drew you to the other? What did
you call him?"

"His name is Simon."
"I doubt that, but that doesn't matter. What drew you to

see him? You're much too... normal in every other way. I
wonder what he will do when you leave this realm." Reaper
reached out to touch him and Robert jerked away.

"Don't."
Reaper chuckled. "Afraid I'll mark you and steal your soul?

One day your Death's touch will bring death. He will fuck you
and watch you die. That is his job. More than that, it is our
existence."

Robert swallowed hard and found himself backed against a

parking meter.

"Do you want to know when?"
"Simon said he didn't know."
"He didn't look hard enough. I can tell you."
"I don't want a damn thing from—"
"Three days," Reaper said, cutting him off.
"Liar."

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Reaper chuckled and started to walk away. "Why lie, when

the truth is so much more interesting to watch?"

Robert moved around the parking meter, giving Reaper a

wide berth. A chill oozed down his spine. The way he walked,
his very presence seemed to sap the life right out everything
around them. This Death was nothing at all like Simon.

"Until we meet again, Robert."
He said nothing and watched until the Reaper disappeared

around the corner. He let out an explosive breath he hadn't
realized he was holding and wiped the sweat from his palms
on his pants.

His stomach twisted with the impact of Reaper's words.

Three days.

Sick to his stomach, he headed back to his apartment.

What does someone do when they find out they're dying in a
few days?

His rubbed his chest, finding it hard to breathe as he

walked. He pulled his hand away from his chest and stared at
it a moment. Heart attack?

He shook his head. He was only twenty-six. Besides, he

still had time.

Yeah, in this case ignorance was bliss.
Finding his way back home, he flopped back on the couch

and waited for Simon, hoping everything the Reaper had told
him was wrong.

[Back to Table of Contents]

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Chapter Seven

He heard Simon's soft steps as they slipped into the room

several hours later. After hours of waiting and rehearsing the
carefully thought out lines he'd prepared, his mind went blank
when Simon stepped into the room.

Robert sat up and peered over the back of the couch at

him.

"Three days?"
The light smile on Simon's lips evaporated and dark eyes

turned somber. Nothing said the truth more than that.

Bile churned in the pit of his stomach and he closed his

eyes, willing back the ache in his chest. He gulped for air to
help keep nausea at bay.

"I was hoping he lied."
The words hung in the air and Simon moved to sit on the

opposite side of the couch.

"I keep trying to imagine what will happen when I die.

Who will care? What did I do? Was I important? I can't think
of much. I didn't do anything really. I only have one real
friend here. My family is dead, or wished I was... I'm not
important. I never harmed anyone. I was nice, I think. I'm a
pretty nice person, aren't I?"

"You're a very nice person."
Robert huffed. "Yeah. Write that on my epitaph."
"And you're important to me."
He winced and looked away. "Don't say that."
"It's true."

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by C.M. Torrens

Emotions warred inside him. The urge to lash out took hold

as he turned to Simon. "How can you say that? I'm dying in
three days and you hover around me like a vulture waiting to
pick my bones."

Simon winced visibly, but Robert didn't care. He struggled

to keep his emotions under control. The anger, the grief. He
couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

"Get out of here! Go. I don't want to see you. Get the hell

out of my house!" Robert grabbed the lamp from the end
table and threw it in Simon's direction.

Glass exploded as the ceramic base struck the table beside

Simon, showering him in debris. A fresh cut marred Simon's
cheek and beaded with blood.

"Robert, please—" Simon got to his feet and wiped the

blood from his cheek. The cut was gone.

"Out!" His voice cracked and buried his head in his hands.

"Just get the fuck out."

Silence filled the room and when he looked up, Simon was

gone.

* * * *

Simon closed his eyes and leaned against the wall outside

Robert's apartment, his chest tight, his throat dry and
burning. He took a ragged breath, trying to ease some of the
pressure. He'd been greedy to ever get involved with him in
the first place. No matter that it was always going to be a
temporary thing. Robert was always going to die and Simon
was always going to live. His curse locked him in between
forever. There was no end for him.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

He pushed off the wall and started away from the

apartment. He picked a direction at random, just needing to
walk. His mind wandered, but the ache persisted. He was
alone again. He was so very tired of being alone.

He felt Reaper before he saw him and spun to face him.

Grabbing him by his jacket, Simon slammed him into a
nearby wall.

Reaper smirked back at him and tried to straighten his

jacket. "A little upset, are we?"

"I told you to leave him alone," Simon hissed.
"You think what you've done is any better? So I gave him

the answer he wanted. I wasn't the one fucking him just to
remove a curse."

"What are you talking about?" He gasped, shaking his

head. "It doesn't work like that. They don't replace you. With
all these people in the world, we'd be hard pressed to keep up
if we were just replaced. The curse is permanent. There is no
way out."

"If you say so," Reaper said with a shrug.
"I said stay away from him. I won't have him cursed. He

needs to go through." He shoved Reaper back into the wall.
"Why are you scaring him into staying? Do you think he'll
replace you? Is that what you're hoping for? That's not
possible, and even if it was, I wouldn't let you use him."

"And you aren't using him?" Reaper jerked out of his grip

and stepped out of reach. "Get over yourself. You are no
better than me."

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Simon's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Go near him again,

and immortality will give me plenty of time to find ways to
cause you pain."

Reaper said nothing and turned his attention down the

street. "I have work to do."

Simon watched him leave and looked back in the direction

of Robert's apartment. He wanted to race back and tell him
not to do anything Reaper said. To stand guard and protect
him from making the biggest mistake he could ever make,
but he could already feel the call of another soul.

He tried to resist, but the call grew louder and more

persistent until the vibration in his bones began. Soon the
pain would follow.

Sighing heavily, he turned and began walking toward the

call, letting himself be led to his next assignment. The
vibration in his bones eased as he started on his way. No, he
couldn't let Robert become him. Not if he could prevent it. He
had grown used to the fact that he would never leave this
realm, accepted his fate. Reaper would have to do the same.
Now all he had to do was figure out a way to keep Reaper
distracted while he sent Robert on his way.

Far easier said than done.

[Back to Table of Contents]

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Chapter Eight

Robert stared across the living room at the phone sitting

on the end table. Getting to his feet, he picked it up and sat
back down on the couch.

For a long moment he stared at the keypad. He still knew

the number by heart. The sing-song digits were still etched in
his memory from youth. Taking a deep breath, he ran his
fingers over the keys debating if he should call or not.

Biting his lip, he pressed the buttons one at a time and put

the phone to his ear. The phone rang and rang. He was about
to hang up when a gruff voice came on the line.

"Hello?"
Robert's voice stuck in his throat and he forced the words

from his lips. "Hi, Dad."

A long pause met him on the other line. For a moment he

thought the man had hung up. "Robert," he said, his voice
cordial and hard. "What do you want?"

"I just... wanted to call. I haven't heard from you in a long

time. Did you, uh, get the Christmas gift I sent?"

A harsh grunt came through the line. "I never opened it.

Gave it to the church."

Robert winced and nodded. He had expected as much. He

bit back tears and cleared his throat. "At least it didn't go to
waste."

"Did you need something? I don't got no money to give

you—"

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"I don't need any money," Robert said. "I just called... I

don't know why I called. I'm sorry to bother you. I'm sorry
about everything."

Another long pause drifted through the line. "You get

yourself right—"

"Dad, please." He took a deep breath. "I gotta go. I

shouldn't have called. I'm sorry. Take care, Dad."

Robert hung up the phone and took several deep breaths.

His vision blurred and he fought back tears. Real men didn't
cry. Real men didn't do a lot of things. He had heard it
throughout his entire life. A disappointment from beginning to
end. He vaguely wondered if his father would set him in the
family plot. Would he belong after he was dead?

He whipped the phone across the room and watched it

shatter into a dozen pieces as it hit the wall. Bits of plastic
scattered over the carpet. He didn't want to think. He could
barely breathe.

Getting to his feet, he grabbed his wallet and keys and

headed down to the liquor store. He needed something
stronger than what was in his fridge right about now.

He made his way down the block and pushed open the

door. A chime rang through the store and a kid, not more
than seventeen, spun to face him with a gun in hand. Half his
face was covered in a bandana and scared, young, wide eyes
stared back at him.

Robert froze.
"Don't you fucking move!" the kid shouted, looking around

in a panic.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Robert's eyes fell on the store owner, sprawled across the

floor. Blood oozed from his head and pooled around his face.
His eyes were closed. Robert wondered if he was dead. Would
Simon come?

"I'm not moving."
"Open the fucking register!"
"All right. I can try. Let's just stay calm, okay?"
The boy glared at him and motioned toward the register.

"Get the money! And your wallet."

Robert moved out of the doorway toward the register and

reached slowly for his wallet. The sight of moment outside the
glass doors behind the boy caught his attention. A woman
fumbling with her purse outside the door. The boy's hand
trembled as he held the gun.

Heart pounding, he pulled out his wallet. "Here."
The door opened behind the kid and he started to swing

around to look behind him.

"Hey!" Robert shouted and dove at the youth to keep him

from hurting the woman.

The gun went off with a deafening bang as he tackled the

boy. His ears rang as they tumbled to the ground and rolled.
A glass shelf crashed on top of them, and a wicked burn
ripped through his chest as if trying to sear his soul. The
woman screamed and raced back out the door. Numbness
spread across Robert's chest, and the gun went off again.
Heat seared his guts and strength evaporated from him.

He blinked as the kid stared down at him. Horror and

shock rippled over his young features. With the bandana gone
he was even younger than Robert had first thought. Not more

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

than fifteen. Just a boy. Breathing was getting more difficult,
pain growing like a cold fire through him.

The boy ran. The sound of the door chime echoed through

the quiet shop.

Sirens wailed in the distance as his vision faded and all

went black.

* * * *

Pain.
Robert bit back a scream, his guts burning, his chest

heavy. Faces hovered into view, and bright lights shone down
from overhead.

"What's your name?" someone asked.
The fire in his stomach shot through every fiber of his

being as something touched his gut. His lungs exploded with
a cry of anguish and his vision started to blur.

"Hey! Stay with us. What's your name?"
"Robert," he choked, gasping for air. "Robert Lasker."
"Okay, Robert. We're going to take good care of you,

okay? Just hang on. How old are you Robert? Any medical
conditions we should know about?"

He couldn't breathe. He tried to get a breath but no air

filled his lungs, his vision faded, and he heard voices grow
distant. Machines beeped and he tried to come back, he
wanted to see Simon. To touch him. Hold him again before he
died. Thought evaporated again, fading to black.

* * * *

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

He had given Robert the day and night to calm down,

hoping they could talk, but after several knocks, Simon
wrapped his hand around the door knob and willed it open.

The door swung forward to an empty room. Morning light

filtered through the window, but the room lacked life. The
apartment hung heavy with emotion. He checked the
bedroom. The bed was still made, untouched during the
night. Worry seeped into the pit of his stomach. It was too
soon. It wasn't his time yet.

He bit his lip and closed his eyes. Focusing on Robert, he

let his sense guide him through the mist of souls. Like a
forest, each soul rooted to its body with a tether. He felt his
way through the forest until he found Robert, his root pulsing
at an unsteady rate.

He opened his eyes again and followed the sense of Robert

out into the city.

Emotion rolled in his chest as he rushed for Robert's sense.

This wasn't supposed to happen today. He was suppose to
have days left. Simon closed his eyes, willing back the burn in
his chest raging through him like fire. He took a ragged
breath and looked at the building in front of him.

The white hospital building looked far more ominous than

usual, and his eyes were drawn up to the third floor where
Robert lay. Reaper's presence in the area sent a chill through
him, but not close enough to be a bother. Walking inside, he
slipped past nurses and through restricted areas to find
Robert lying on a bed. Tubes and wires ran from his body to
machines. His skin was a pasty gray, and a thin blanket had

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

been tossed over him. His frail body only a shell of the life it
had held the previous day.

Simon moved closer, his chest twisting and breath coming

in painful gasps. "Robert," he called.

Tired eyes opened and a weak smile touched his lips. "I

knew you'd come soon," Robert whispered.

"It's not your time yet."
"But soon, right?"
Simon swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah. Soon."
"A piece of the bullet is by my heart. They want to operate

tomorrow. I don't think I'll make it through surgery. Do you?"

Simon shook his head. Emotion burned through him and

he stroked Robert's cheek. The day's growth rasped against
his fingers. His hand trembled with the touch. He wished he
could stop time from passing, stop the world from moving.
Tears blurred his vision, and he bent down, kissing Robert's
lips.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wish things were different."
Robert's hand ran over his cheek as he pulled away. "I'm

okay now... I have a request."

Simon's heart twisted. "Please, Robert. Don't do this. I'm

begging you." His vision blurred and he kissed Robert again,
trying to keep him from speaking. He buried his head in his
neck and pressed his lips to his ear. "Please, don't do this."

Each breath burned Simon's chest, so heavy. He was

breaking. A thousand pieces, each one ripping and tearing at
his soul. He hadn't been sure he had one until now. This
moment.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"Shh, I know what I want now, and it isn't what you

think," Robert said.

"I don't want to hear it. Just rest, okay? There's still time

to change your mind."

A small smile touched Robert's lips and his eyes grew

heavy. "I'm tired, Simon."

"I know. Just rest a little bit. It'll be over soon."
Simon stood back as Jerry came to visit later that night.

The cowboy stripper looked very subdued in his plain jeans
and simple t-shirt. The worry etched on his face made
Simon's heart break. He was tempted to give them some
space, but had promised Robert he wouldn't leave him.

"Hey," Jerry whispered.
Robert forced a smile. "Hey yourself."
Jerry forced a grin. "You're a hero, you know. You were in

the papers."

"You still aren't my type."
Jerry laughed. "And here I thought that's why you went to

all that trouble."

He forced another smile before closing his eyes.
Jerry took a seat on the edge of the bed and took Robert's

hand in his. "Have you heard from your dad? I tried to call
him, like you asked. No answer."

Robert shook his head.
"He's probably on his way. I'm sure he'll be here before

surgery tomorrow," Jerry said. "Oh, do I get to meet your
new flame? Did I miss him?"

The smile that lit up Robert's face made Simon melt. His

eyes opened and blue eyes glowed with life.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"You'd like him. He's quiet and sweet and has a great

smile.... Perfect."

They chatted a bit more before Robert fell asleep and Jerry

left. It was as much of a goodbye as Robert could muster,
weak as he was. Simon took Jerry's place on the edge of the
bed and watched Robert sleep.

Robert woke twice more. Each time Simon fought back

panic expecting Robert to make his request. None came.

Early the next morning Simon watched as the doctors

began to prep him for surgery. He waited until they were
alone before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Robert
twitched a weak smile.

"I love you, Simon."
Tears spilled down Simon's cheeks, each breath harder to

take. "I love you too, Robert."

The pain returned, ripping at his soul. He bent down and

kissed Robert's lips, releasing his soul for him to take.

Robert stroked his cheek and kissed the tears away. "It'll

be okay. You'll see."

"Don't—"
"Shh," Robert said, fingers pressing to Simon's lips.
Simon let his protest die and took a deep breath. Forcing a

smile, he stoked Robert's cheek and kissed him again. Simon
tried to burn the taste of him into his mind forever. The
memory of Robert had to last an eternity.

He pulled away as the doctors returned and watched as

the nurses pushed the bed down the hall.

The crushing pain in his chest started to become

unbearable. He bit back tears, not wanting to go through with

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

the end, but knowing he had to. Robert's soul called to him,
the vibration in his bones growing more intense with each
passing minute. Still, he couldn't bear to move.

An old man rushed off the elevator and hurried past him to

Robert's room.

"Oh God, I'm too late," the man gasped.
The old man spun to look at him. "Where is he?"
Simon blinked with surprise and cleared his throat. "They

just took him to surgery."

"They just took him to surgery." Jerry said behind him.
Simon's heart fell. The brief hope that Robert wasn't the

only one who could see him died.

"Are you his..." The old man paused as if struggling for the

right words. "His, uh, friend?"

Jerry nodded. Robert had his father's features. The same

bronze skin and jet black hair, the angles of his face and
strong chin. Mr. Lasker was taller and broader, less the
dancer's build of his son. The lines in his face were deep from
stress and worry.

"He called me," Mr. Lasker said. "He sounded upset. I

should have—" He stopped and cleared his throat. "He's my
son. I should have let him talk. Told him to come home. I
wasn't always... I could have done things different is all."

Boiling emotion threatened to crash down around him, and

Simon took a deep breath.

"We all make mistakes," Jerry said.
Mr. Lasker and Jerry moved to the waiting area. Simon

followed behind, watching the quiet moment between them.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

The two men who loved Robert in their own ways. He ached
to be able to tell them something to ease their pain.

Simon sat down a few chairs away from the pair waiting

for the final call.

"You know him well?" Mr. Lasker asked.
"Yes." Jerry's voice cracked just a bit and he cleared his

throat.

"Are you a dancer too?"
"Yeah. We worked together."
"And that's how you met him?" The bitterness in Mr.

Lasker's tone unmistakable.

Jerry ignored it and stared across the room. "We met at a

dance audition for some musical I can't even remember now.
He was in rough shape then. Staying at a homeless shelter."

Shock rippled over Mr. Lasker's face, his mouth opened

and guilt flashed behind dark eyes. The anger and bitterness
drained from the older man and for a long time, they sat in
silence. "I tried to be here sooner."

"Yeah, I tried to call you for him. There was no answer, I

wasn't sure you'd come."

"He's my son. Of course I'd come."
The final call of Robert's soul called to him and Simon got

to his feet, the ache so intense he burned with it. He fought
the urge to let Robert curse himself, but couldn't bear to let
that loneliness haunt the man he loved forever.

He walked down the hall. Nurses ignored him and the

doors parted for him as he followed the sound of Robert's
soul, past another door and into the sterile surgical room.

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

Everything smelt of blood and antiseptic. Doctors hovered

over Robert's body, masks over their faces and white gloves
slick with blood. Machines beeped unsteadily in a desperate
attempt to save Robert's life.

Simon moved to the end of the table, the doctors ignoring

him as he reached out to touch Robert's arm.

"Come on, love. It's time to go," Simon whispered.
The machines squawked warnings, and doctors worked at

a more frantic pace. Simon ignored the chaos and held out his
hand. A second later, Robert's soul sat up and took his hand.

"Ew, is that my heart?" Robert asked as Simon helped him

off the table to look at his body, heart and chest exposed as
doctors worked.

"Yes."
"You know, that's kind of creepy," Robert said.
Simon shrugged. "I've seen worse. You know, your father

came. Would you like to see him before you go?"

"I can do that?"
"Yes."
Emotions flickered across Robert's face.
Simon stroked his cheek, the electric buzz of his soul

seemed to make things so much more final. He took a ragged
breath and led Robert down to the waiting room. Robert
grabbed his arm, as if trying to brace himself before stepping
inside the waiting room.

Mr. Lasker looked across the room at Jerry. "Hear anything

from the doctors yet?"

Jerry shook his head. "The doctors won't speak to me. I'm

not family."

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

"You live with him, don't you?"
"No."
"Oh, I thought—" Mr. Lasker shook his head. "Never

mind."

Jerry cleared his throat. "Look, Mr. Lasker. I'm not sure

what you know about Robert, but he is a good guy and a
good friend. I don't know all the trouble between you two, he
didn't like to talk about it. I just thought you might want to
know that he had his shit together. His own apartment, a
job... stuff like that."

Robert touched his elbow. "Can I tell him I love him? Will

he hear me?"

Simon shook his head. "I don't know, love."
Robert released his arm and went to stand beside his

father. He whispered into the older man's ear and stroked his
cheek. Mr. Lasker buried his face in his hands and his chest
heaved as if holding back emotion.

The doctor stepped into the room. His words rang hollow

as he delivered the news of Robert's death. Simon cringed as
the older man dropped into a nearby chair and Jerry wept.
Simon bit back his own tears and led Robert from the waiting
room and to a more private corner of the hospital. An empty
suite, well away from the crowds and bustle.

Robert looked up at him and forced a smile. "You know I

love you, right?"

Simon's heart broke, shattering, scattering into a million

pieces that he was sure he'd never find again. Like shards of
glass the pieces tore at his soul leaving only blinding pain in
their wake. Tears streamed down his face and blurred his

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

vision. He pulled Robert close and kissed his lips. The kiss
wasn't the same, less real, less here. His scent was gone.

Robert stroked his cheek. "I can't feel you anymore. Not

like before."

Simon fought to regain his composure, willing the pain to

ease. "It's okay, love. It's time to go."

They both jumped as Reaper stepped into the room, a

smile on his face. "Well? Did I miss anything? You said you
had a request?"

Simon winced. "Robert, please don't."
Robert wiped the tears from his eyes and kissed his lips.

"It's okay, lover. I know what I'm doing."

Simon shook his head but said nothing. This was Robert's

decision to make.

Robert turned to look at Reaper and took a deep breath. "I

want nothing and everything." He moved to stand in front of
Simon. "I want you. Come with me, Simon."

Simon shook his head. "I can't, love. I can't. You know I

can't."

Simon heard the portal open with a soft hum and Robert

took his hand.

"Yes, you can. I know it. I can feel it," Robert said. "It's

over for you, Simon. Come with me. Don't you want to come
with me?"

"More than anything." His voice cracked and he looked

down as Robert gave his hand a squeeze.

Robert pulled him back toward the portal and Simon

hesitated at the threshold. He stared into the swirling abyss.
The gray swirl of the portal began to fade and colors took

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

their place. A rainbow of life and sounds rippled from the
other side. A song, both sad and rejoicing called out to him,
beckoning him closer.

Was he really hearing them now?
His heart swelled and he felt the chains binding him

shatter. He gasped as if taking his first breath. A huge weight
fell away. He looked down at his hand, no longer flesh, but
glowing like spirit. The song filled his soul and mended his
breaking heart. A voice in the old tongue he had thought lost
and forgotten called him by name. Simoen.

He turned back to his lover. Robert smiled up at him, that

bright smile he'd fallen in love with. That smile just for him.

Holding on to Robert's hand tightly, he took a deep breath

and together they stepped forward. Simon braced for a
barrier, but none came as they fell through into the other
side.

* * * *

Reaper watched them go and sighed. About damn time.

Those two were about as sappy as they come. Oh well. One
more Death down, about a couple thousand to go. He had
time. He had all the time in the world.

He smirked at the scent of chaos in the air. The sound of

screaming souls vibrated in his bone.

What a rush.
Everyone always wanted what they couldn't have. Not him.

He had plans, big plans. It was all just a matter of time.

[Back to Table of Contents]

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

100

C.M. Torrens lives in the Midwest with her wonderful

family, two furry canines who think they're human, and a pet
snake who wishes he was human. The warm chaos of her
house not only keeps her on her toes, but often reminds her
of a zoo at feeding time.

She spends her days torn between chaining her muse to

her desk and wanting to beat him for his lack of cooperation
when she needs him most. She enjoys the quiet mornings
when it's still dark with a hot cup of coffee and her dogs
cuddled at her feet like a giant fuzzy blanket. Those quiet
mornings give her time to dwell on the dark worlds and
passionate characters drifting in her head.

You can find her tweeting at twitter.com/CMTorrens and

can be reached at CM.Torrens@gmail.com.

[Back to Table of Contents]

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

101

His Soul to Take (C)Copyright C.M. Torrens, 2011
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents either are the product of the

authors' imagination or are used fictitiously, and any

resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

business establishments, events, or locales is entirely

coincidental.

Cover Art by Catt Ford
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only.

Duplication or distribution via any means is

illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law,

subject to criminal prosecution and upon

conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot

be legally loaned or given to others. No

part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the

express permission of the Publisher. To

request permission and all other inquiries, contact

Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite

244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
Released in the United States of America
April 2011
eBook Edition

His Soul to Take
by C.M. Torrens

102

eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-890-7

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