Chapter 124 - Worst Mascot Ever

Morrigan lay sprawled out on her new bed with her phone held above her face as it put a soft glow on her face in the dark room. She flicked her thumb across the screen to open a group chat with Emma and Hilda.

Morrigan: Guys, the thing with Hilda isn’t going to work out. I just got fostered to someone else.

EMMA: WHAT?

HILDA: Are you serious?

EMMA: Where are you?

EMMA: Are you okay?

Morrigan barely had time to type “I’m fine,” as Emma’s rapid-fire texts flooded in.

EMMA: We can come get you if you need.

EMMA: What the hell, they just threw you out the door with some random people?

EMMA: Did you tell them about Hilda?

Hilda sent a thinking emoji.

Morrigan paused, thumbs hovering, struggling to reply between Emma’s machine-gun texts as she barely had time to even read them.

MORRIGAN: I’m with my grandmother

EMMA: You have a grandma?

HILDA: Technically, everyone has one, Emma. Most of us have 2.

HILDA: Unless you’re from West Virginia or Alabama, maybe.

EMMA: You know what I mean.

MORRIGAN: I’m as surprised as you.

MORRIGAN: I never met her before, not once. Didn’t even know her name before today.

EMMA: Are you okay, though?

MORRIGAN: Yeah, I’m fine. Little blown away, but I’m alright.

HILDA: So… should I still try to get you in on my end? I mean, I’d have to talk to my lawyer.

Morrigan sighed, setting her phone down for a moment and staring at the ceiling. She doubted they’d let her stay with Hilda unless she had proof Evelyn was abusive or something—and she had no intention of framing the old lady. So, like it or not, she was stuck here.

MORRIGAN: I don’t think it’s going to work out with Hilda.

MORRIGAN: I’m stuck here until I decide to run away or can go back with my mom.

MORRIGAN: Or until I turn 18, I guess.

HILDA: I got emancipated right as I turned 17.

HILDA: I had already figured out a steady source of income and a place to live, though.

HILDA: Technically, I had all that in place at 16, but it’s a little harder at that age.

MORRIGAN: Not sure “reaper” counts as gainful employment.

MORRIGAN: Achievement unlocked: World’s most prolific 16-year-old mass murderer.

EMMA: Maybe pitch it as “end-of-life care services?”

Morrigan smiled. At least she had one route to feeling some kind of normalcy in this crazy life she’d been living. She just wished she was able to see Emma in person more often, but maybe that would be easier now. Morrigan still wasn’t sure about staying with Evelyn long term, but for the time being, as long as the old lady didn’t cause too many problems for her, she figured it wouldn’t be too bad. Except, Evelyn would expect her to keep going to school.

MORRIGAN: Uh. So random. I realize school is starting again soon.

MORRIGAN: Not really sure how to deal with that. I mean, I guess I got to go.

EMMA: Why wouldn’t you?

MORRIGAN: You know, reaper and all. Feels weird going to class when I’ve got a part-time job in soul collection.

HILDA: omg

HILDA: You’re going to be like some edgy gothic magical girl lol

HILDA: hahaha

EMMA: HILDA! Lay off the anime.

HILDA: Seriously though

Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Hilda’s messages, thinking about how to answer that.

MORRIGAN: I don’t have a transformation sequence, though.

HILDA: You almost do. I’ll teach you a spell to add some extra glitter and sparkles and you’re all set.

MORRIGAN: My clothes don’t change.

MORRIGAN: Uh, except for turning black, but then they’re stuck like that.

HILDA: Pfft. I can fix that too. Magic makeover, coming soon.

MORRIGAN: You can stop my clothes from turning black?

HILDA: I can certainly try. Will give me a chance to figure out a few things about reaper-magic weirdness.

HILDA: Just don’t tell Noir.

Morrigan smirked. Noir would no doubt have some complaints, but it’s not like he’d be able to stop her.

EMMA: Omg Morrigan the Magical Girl

EMMA: Puella Magi: Morrigan Magica!

MORRIGAN: Well… I did sign a shady contract.

EMMA: Not to mention a morally questionable mascot tagging along with you.

MORRIGAN: As bad as Noir is, I still prefer him over that weird bunny-cat alien.

She glanced up from her phone. Noir, the mascot in question, was perched on the chair by the window, his golden eyes fixed on her in silent observation.

Setting her phone aside, she met his stare. “Do you mind not just... sitting there watching me?”

His ears drooped slightly with that familiar annoyed glint coming into his eyes. “What would you prefer I do?”

“I don’t know. How would you like it if I just stared at you all day without saying anything?”

“I don’t imagine I would be too bothered, though I suspect you would blink first.”

His whiskers knitted up slightly as Morrigan narrowed her eyes at him.

Was that a challenge?

She locked her gaze with his, determined to win. Ten seconds passed.

Then twelve.

Thirteen.

Her eyes burned, and with an irritated grunt, she broke first, squeezing them shut. “Tch.”

Noir’s whiskers curled smugly. “Predictable.”

She realized beating the voidling in a staring constant would never work. Cats generally don’t blink too much, and this one was particularly stubborn.

“Anyway,” she muttered, flopping back onto the bed and fixing her eyes on the ceiling. “What’s going on with my list? How many people do I have to kill tonight?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“You could have brought it up too, you know.”

“In any case,” Noir said smoothly, “now that you aren’t confined to the shelter during the day, you have more flexibility. If you prefer, you may switch to a morning or midday schedule.”

Morrigan blinked. “Wait. I—I have an option?”

“You always have an option.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What about vacation days.”

“Considering your lackluster performance earlier in the summer, it is ill-advised to take days off just yet. But you may request time off in the future, and I will let you know if it is approved.”

He’s more like my manager than I realized.

“How come you never explained this to me before.”

That smug expression returned to his face. “Perhaps you should have read your contract.”

Morrigan froze, a sudden suspicion dawning. “Wait… were you spying on my texts somehow?”

“Let’s just say, it’s amusing what one can deduce from a well-timed chuckle or a particularly exasperated sigh. Your conversation was clearly about me, so… perhaps I indulged a little curiosity.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh my god. You have been spying on me! How do you do it? Do you have, like, creepy shadow eyes hidden around me or something?”

“Oh, nothing so crude. It is more a matter of my perception being more… shall we say… all-encompassing than a typical mortal.”

“Is that how Death pulls his whole ‘read you like a book’ party trick?”

“No.  Master simply has a keen interest in human nature. He’s observed more lifetimes than you could imagine. His insights are drawn from experience and careful observation. A skill in which you are… I daresay… below average.”

Morrigan groaned, flopping back dramatically against the bed. “I swear, I’m going to throw you out the window.”

Then she sprang back up and jabbed an accusing finger at him. “And by the way, I would have loved to read the damn contract—except it’s kinda hard to do that with a knife in your chest and the whole thing written in some cryptic gibberish! That was seriously the shadiest deal imaginable, you know.”

“You could always ask. I’d be happy to clarify any details for you,” Noir offered smoothly.

“How about a voidling replacement program?” she deadpanned.

His eyes glinted. “You’re still under Master’s apprenticeship. So, unfortunately for both of us, you’re stuck with me—and I with you.”

“Geez, try not to sound too resigned,” she shot back.

“No, truly. I’d be devastated to lose the privilege of these... stimulating back-and-forths with you.”

“And yet, you’re still talking,” she muttered, sighing as she collapsed back onto the mattress.

“Anyway,” she added, “if I can switch to a daytime schedule, let’s do that. Make it tomorrow afternoon—apparently, Evelyn has a whole shopping spree planned for me in the morning.”

“Very well.”

Morrigan stared up at the ceiling for a moment before checking her phone. Emma and Hilda were locked in a heated argument about whether Sailor Moon counted as a ‘dark magical girl’ anime. She smirked, shot them a quick “going to sleep, don’t burn the chat down,” message, and set her phone aside.

Reaching toward the lamp, she paused mid-motion. “So anyway, I gue—”

Her eyes flicked to the chair where Noir had been sitting—only to find it empty. She glanced around the room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Was he just hanging out until he got to talk about the list? Or maybe he needed to go confer with the fates or whatever the hell it is he does to manage my reaping duties.

“Whatever…” he sighed to herself then turned out the lamp. She was just glad to finally get a full uninterrupted night of sleep for a change. As she settled into the bed and felt the pillow wrapping around the back of her head, she realized this really was the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in.

If nothing else, at least there was this one plus to this whole messed-up situation.

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Chapter 125 - Compromise