“Ever, wake up.”

  He was comfortable - so comfortable. There was warmth and a familiar, flowery smell. He rolled over.

  “Ever, wake up... for me?”

  Wait... he knew that smell: FemFresh. He’d run out of all the cans that he’d bought from the convenience store recently. So why could he smell it? He opened his eyes.

  “Taylor?” He said, blinking. “Is that… is it you?”

  She was sitting at the opposite corner of the treehouse, wearing her usual black denim with rips at the knees and a band T-shirt. For some reason, she already had her apron on. She got on all fours and crawled towards him. Ever got up, scooting back. What was she doing?

  She got within an inch of his face, her eyes searching his. She bit her lip. “You’re late,” she said - with Logan’s voice.

  Ever opened his eyes - for real this time.

  Ever, wake up… Death droned. Oh finally! Your alarm’s been ringing this whole time. Or maybe it’s the boss-man calling you…

  He grabbed the phone out of his tote bag and dropped it in surprise when it buzzed, letting it clatter on the wooden deck. He swept away some fall leaves that had blown in, picked up the phone again and stopped the alarm.

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  9:23.

  “Shit!” The expletive had slipped out before he could stop it. Ever grabbed his stuff, zipping down in reaper mode before turning human again.

  Careful, there’s some people over there! Death warned.

  Ever pressed himself against the oak tree while scanning the cemetery. Sure enough thirty or so yards away a group of mourners were gathered for a service. None seemed to have noticed the paranormal activity that had just occurred. He sidestepped around the tree and went into reaper mode again.

  What are you doing?

  *I’m going to work.*

  He flew as fast as he could, past the mourners, out of the cemetery and down the hill.

  I guess it’s probably faster than walking…

  While he hadn’t properly tested it, he felt that he could comfortably fly faster than a person sprinting at full speed. It had been four days since the hot dog attacker and while he felt better, he still wasn’t fully fit.

  You should probably tell your boss that you’re going to be late.

  *I probably can’t use the phone while I’m in reaper mode.*

  Ah good point.

  The days he had worked, Logan had pestered him in his paternal sort of way to get his injury checked out, which he had refused to do. Now he was late. What was he going to say? Ever zoomed past cars, crashed straight through buildings, restaurants, tables, kitchens, leaving everything perfectly intact. Even people which he would usually try to swerve around he went straight through, trying to ignore the subtle pulses of warmth every time his soul form intersected with blood and bone.

  Moments later, he swerved into the alley way where he’d seen the dog, turned human, straightened out his clothes, then half-walked, half-run down the street towards Pagoto’s, gritting his teeth against the lingering pain.