The Complete Ashdale Reaper Series

By G.K. Lund

When a Reaper of Death takes the human form of the late Ben Reed, he finds himself mistakenly suspected of murder. This puts him on the wrong side of Detective Olivia Jones. But as a deadly threat descends upon them, they must join forces to stop the real killer before they become the next victims.

Trying to stay alive as a mere human may prove deadly for this reaper.

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Taking human form and waking up next to a crime scene is troubling enough. Not remembering why he decided to become Ben Reed is a disturbing snag in whatever plan he had when making that decision. But something, or someone, has drawn the 'new' Ben to the city of Ashdale. 

While navigating life among friends and retrieving his old memories, he comes to realize the only thing leaving a reaper to take such a drastic step is unfinished business… 

Something has disrupted the balance between life and death, and that something might just be Ben himself. 

The Ashdale Reaper Series is a tale of human connections, memories, and souls refusing to stay all that dead.

Books included are:

Deadly Awakening
Grave Intent
Dance of Death
Revenants of Life

Buy the box set today and watch an entity of death face life (and coffee)!

• Language: English
• Publisher: G.K. Lund
• Release date: Jan 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9788293663492

G.K. Lund

G.K. Lund writes fantasy and is the author of the Ashdale Reaper Series and the Ashport Mender Series. G.K. holds a BA in Medieval Studies and an MA in Archeology and will probably have to put an archeologist into a story one day. Until then, potty-mouthed and kickass characters with other jobs will have to face high stakes and save the day. G.K. also has a love of old stories and folklore; anything that's dark, weird and wonderful.  

Book preview

The Complete Ashdale Reaper Series

The Complete Ashdale Reaper Series

G. K. Lund

Northern Quill Press

Deadly Awakening, copyright © 2018 by G.K. Lund.

Grave Intent, copyright © 2018 by G.K. Lund.

Dance of Death, copyright © 2019 by G.K. Lund.

Revenants of Life, copyright © 2019 by G.K. Lund.

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These books are works of fiction. Similarities to actual events, places, persons or other entities are purely coincidental.

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Published by Northern Quill Press.

ISBN: 978-82-93663-49-2

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Contents

About the Ashdale Reaper Series

Deadly Awakening

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

Author’s note for Deadly Awakening

Grave Intent

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Epilogue

Author’s Note for Grave Intent

Dance of Death

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

Author’s note for Dance of Death

Revenants of Life

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Epilogue

Author’s Note for Revenants of Life

Enjoyed the series?

Before you close the book…

Also by G.K. Lund

About the Author

About the Ashdale Reaper series

---

When a Reaper of Death takes the human form of the late Ben Reed, he finds himself mistakenly suspected of murder. This puts him on the wrong side of Detective Olivia Jones. But as a deadly threat descends upon them, they must join forces to stop the real killer before they become the next victims.

---

Trying to stay alive as a mere human may prove deadly for this reaper.

Taking human form and waking up next to a crime scene is troubling enough. Not remembering why he decided to become Ben Reed is a disturbing snag in whatever plan he had when making that decision. But something, or someone, has drawn the ‘new’ Ben to the city of Ashdale.

---

While navigating life among friends and retrieving his old memories, he comes to realize the only thing leaving a reaper to take such a drastic step is unfinished business…

---

Something has disrupted the balance between life and death, and that something might just be Ben himself.

---

The Ashdale Reaper Series is a tale of human connections, memories, and souls refusing to stay all that dead.

Deadly Awakening

The Ashdale Reaper Series Book 1

1

I am always in the back of your mind.

Do not ever doubt that I exist. You know you exist, and considering the inevitable outcome of it all – so do I. It is the natural way of things. Yes… not what most people want to hear, I know, but there we are. I have always been. I do not know how long, but rest assured I am old. So very old. Older than any of you can fathom. I think that’s the reason for all this. That’s why it happened. Because I do exist. No one can dispute that. My consciousness, however, is disputable. Not to me of course. I am acutely aware of myself. Just like you are aware of yourselves. And then again, why should I not be conscious of everything around me? Of course, everything around me is… well… everything. For I am everywhere. Always. If I were not, there would be chaos. So many see me as evil. Something that must be fought and defeated. Perhaps that is true in some cases. I don’t know anymore. But I do know without a doubt that I am a necessity. Like it or not. Deny it if you will, but that is how it is.

So why did I take such a drastic step? As I said, I am conscious of what is. Most of the time I am everywhere, aware of it all, sometimes I am focused on something or someone. Sometimes I am nowhere. Like you I grow tired from time to time. So very tired. In these periods I go nowhere, remember nothing. My whole being and purpose is always there though. Do not think otherwise. I simply am. And I am focused on, and of importance to, everything.

Yet… it was one of you who made me stop in my figurative tracks. It was on a bridge. I was there, and so was he. A young fair-haired man. Such a tight-set jaw, yet there was a completely blank face. Nothing could be read there. Not even by me. You see, I don’t do the deed. I am the inevitable outcome of certain factors. In this case, jumping off a bridge. I was not there to push him off or make him do it. By no means. I come when the deed is done. But this man made me stop and wake up a little. Suddenly I was conscious of nothing else. All of me was there. I have from time to time thought you all relatively interesting. And I was wondering, as I have sometimes, why this one wanted me. What did he expect me to do to make it better? And what could possibly be so bad as to make him wish for me? I don’t know if there is something after me. I am just the transition. And I myself will not know that for a long, long time yet.

So, I watched. Saw him climb on to the railing. Young. Clad in good clothing. To my understanding, he looked normal. Like he had what he needed. He closed his eyes for a moment. The wind played with his hair and clothes, but it was not strong enough to shake his balance. I noticed some cars had stopped. People were shouting. Pleading with him. He didn’t listen. His mind was set. He wanted me. There was no way out of that. I was after all there. I do not pop up for scares and close calls. When I come, it is final.

He jumped.

Just let himself fall forward. There was no sound from him. Only empty space where he had been a moment ago. Then came the screams from the onlookers. I, of course, saw him as he fell. It was a long way down. There was fear chiseled into the elegant features of his face now, but no sound came.

I, like you, also become curious about things. I can’t deny that. I do on the other hand have an indefinite amount of time to study what interests me. Sometimes I have even taken form and shown myself. Of course, it has merely been a shadow of a humanoid shape in this particular place. As the man was falling to be greeted by me, a new curiosity fell over me. I could not understand his action. I truly could not, and in a blink of a second, before he hit the water, I made my decision.

I took over.

2

The eyes opened. Air was drawn into the lungs. It burned. Not as much as everything else though. I could feel every neuron connecting with me. Every nerve reacting to me. Adjusting. The blood soaring through the veins as that meaty muscle in the chest started pumping again. All the cracked and broken bones reattached and healed. I felt trapped. The meat was attaching itself to me. And it hurt. Pain coming at me from everywhere. Panic and fear were new to me, and now it threatened to strangle me.

What the fuck? said a voice next to me. Oh my God.

I tried to focus on the speaker. Tried to sit up, but was pushed back down again.

I need some help here, the voice shouted. Harsh, confused, worried. It sounded like the owner of the voice wasn’t used to shouting. It was a woman. I tried focusing on her and found that the eyes worked. It was daylight. That was odd, I thought. Surely it had been night? I was wet too. That was no surprise though. The shivering cold, on the other hand, was. I saw several figures coming toward me. The woman next to me had a look on her face I could not read, and to my defense, I was rather new in the game at this point in the story. The woman was dressed in jeans, a simple gray shirt, and a leather jacket. My guess was that she was a couple of years older than the man who jumped off the bridge. Me that was… sort of. Dark long hair, bronzed skin and large amber eyes which were focused on me. As the other people reached us, I realized that she was suspicious.

Oh my God, shouted someone else. Oh my God, oh my G… He was dead. Olivia, he was dead. I swear. I checked.

I know, Tyler, said the woman who had been there since I woke up.

A dark-haired man entered my field of vision and started touching me. Neck, arms, chest. Holding up the eyelids, staring into the eyes.

Sir? Sir, can you hear me?

I tried answering but had no voice. I don’t think that was actually the case. I was probably in shock. Yes… me. But I had fused, to call it that, with the body, and with that comes natural reactions. As I came to understand later, maybe it was for the best in this case. The dark-haired woman continued glaring at me. I looked around as the man kept checking up on me. There were a couple of uniformed men behind the woman and the man next to me. Cars parked further up. I realized quite quickly that I was lying on stone. I could also hear lapping water and turned the head left. The river was there. The bridge was not. I tried stretching the neck, but could not see it. What I saw on the other side of the river were rows of buildings and high-rising church spires behind them.

We need to get him to a hospital, the man said, reaching for something in his pocket.

Yeah, the woman agreed. Clearly he hasn’t been murdered.

3

At some point between my first awakening and the hospital, I must have passed out again. That made me understand for the first time how fragile I was. Falling off a bridge and being shattered against the surface of a cold river, does apparently take its toll on a body even though it has healed.

This time I woke up to find a woman, dressed in pink and comfortable clothes, crying at my bedside. I had no idea who she was, obviously, but found the gesture oddly comforting. As for myself I was now dressed in something white and put in a bed. There was no pain caused by injuries. Only the numbness I felt from interlocking with the body. It was truly a shock. I didn’t realize this at the time, but as I had never been corporeal before, it was inevitable.

The woman looked at me with such relief when she realized I had woken up.

Ben? Oh Ben, she said taking the left hand, holding it with a light grip as if afraid to hurt me. I could hardly believe it when they brought you in. How do you feel?

At this point, I realized I actually had to say something. It was clear this woman knew this person.

Confused, I said with an unused and hoarse voice, strained from not speaking for a while, which was apparently mine. What happened? I added. They did, of course, not know the truth, but I wanted to know why I was brought there.

You were found in the river. Not far from Central Bridge, the woman answered choking back tears. Why? What did you do? What happened?

In all honesty, I had no idea. I had not jumped off any bridge, and anyway, that was what had intrigued me in the first place. The woman by my bedside though didn’t seem intrigued as such… more angry and frightened. Odd, I thought – being angry at someone you apparently care about.

Ben? she pressed when I didn’t answer.

I had no idea what to say to her. I merely looked at her. She was partly Asian, that much I could tell. Black short hair, a heart shaped beautiful face with light brown eyes which were now red and puffy from crying.

Who are you? I asked for lack of something better to say. Not a good idea, I know, but to my defense I was lying there completely bewildered, the flesh caging me in like a prison cell. Oh yes. I could think of nothing more than shedding this new form, but I couldn’t. Not in front of this woman.

Who am I? she answered and rose. She stood staring at me, all tears gone now as she wiped them off. She looked… well, I would say insulted.

You give us a scare like this and you have the nerve to ask who I am as if I have no right to ask you questions. I’m your fucking friend that’s who.

Yes… I said thinking this through as fast as I could, and in all honesty, you lot really think slowly inside this meat. No wonder I couldn’t come up with anything that would help myself. "But who are you?" I repeated.

The woman was about to say something more, but she suddenly stopped, looking at me all wide-eyed now. You mean you don’t know? she whispered.

Yes, I confirmed, hoping this would get her to leave me alone so I, in turn, could leave.

Oh my God, Ben. You don’t remember, do you? she said and sank back down on the chair.

So yes. The biggest cliché of them all. The soap-opera amnesia. Or retrograde amnesia. Call it what you like. I had not planned it. How could I have? I hadn’t thought any of this through. I had simply asked who she was, and she had drawn conclusions and a good thing too. As soon as she ran for the doctor, I tried leaving. I closed the eyes, drew a deep breath, and focused on leaving the body. Focused on severing every neuron, on releasing myself from the interlocking mind of this slow-thinking creature.

No such luck.

I tried again. It didn’t work. What was going on? A powerful being like me, and I was trapped? I could feel the body starting to sweat. To shiver. The breath came heavier, the heart thumping like a hammer in the chest. What was going on? Why didn’t I have any control? The hands flailed at anything around me, the body twisting in the bed. Voices became louder. Hands grabbing hold of me. The voices telling me to calm down. That everything was going to be okay.

But how could it be? I was trapped. Trapped in this weak, slow, fleshly, and clumsy prison of a body, which now no longer contained the one who was born in it. I sank back in bed as the realization hit. The woman had called me Ben, and Ben was no more. He would not come back. It was me now, and I had to deal with the situation. Unfortunately, the situation at hand was a needle in the arm which made everything go blurry. I tried telling them that there was no need for such measures. I was, after all, a more evolved being than them. The words never came out as I slipped into unconsciousness. Perhaps that was for the best as well.

4

Rose.

Rose was the name of the woman dressed in pink who gave me a way to live as Ben without knowing anything about him. She was a nurse at the hospital, the only reason anyone there knew who I was. She had seen me by chance when I was brought in. Apparently, she had nothing more to do at work that day though, because she didn’t leave the room. At all. I am quite familiar with hospitals in truth and my impression is that there is always something to do for the people working there. But not for Nurse Rose, oh no. She would not leave and so I was stuck with her. At my bedside. I didn’t know what to say. I did not know the woman and clearly, that was the problem. She had stopped crying, but seemed on the verge of tears all the time, fighting to keep them back. I closed the eyes and tried to leave again. Focusing completely. Slowing the breath, and letting go of the fragile shell around me. But it was no use. I had the feeling of a veil covering the body, hindering me with an amazing weight that was keeping me inside.

I sighed and opened the eyes.

That seemed to worry her as well. She sat up a little, but relaxed when she realized that I hadn’t actually… what was it she thought? I looked closer at her but became none the wiser. Her eyes were red from crying, her lips pressed tight. She kept her eyes either on me or on the bed right in front of her. She seemed to be thinking hard, but of what I couldn’t say. I did not get to ask either since a different nurse came into the room. She had the same type of clothes on, only they were blue pants and a flower-patterned top. She exchanged some words with Rose, but it was the tray she was carrying that interested me. There was a smell coming from it and it was… appealing to the nose. The nurse pulled a small table that was attached to the bed in front of me and put the tray down on top of it. She then lifted the lid off and I became so entranced by the contents that I never heard her leave.

It was food. Warm food.

Now, it’s not like I didn’t know what the stuff was. I know so many things, far beyond what any of you will ever know (not to be offensive), but I had never, ever, tasted food. I had never needed sustenance. But now I did. I could feel it in the stomach. A gnawing feeling. Hollowness that made the body feel weak. And there was liquid in the mouth. It was clear that the sight and smell of the food was the reason for this, because I had not thought much about it up to that point. What I had before me was a plate of spaghetti bolognese, a juice box and a cup containing different small pieces of fruit. As I said. I knew exactly what it was. I’ve been around, to put it in easy terms. Still, I couldn’t stop staring at the wonder in front of me.

You really should eat, Ben, Rose said.

I looked up at her. I had forgotten she was there. Yes, I said and looked at the food again. I had never eaten anything before. Could I have a glass of water? I asked.

Sure, she said and got up. She found a plastic cup and filled it in a sink next to the door. She smiled when she handed it to me, but it was a weak smile. I took the cup expectantly. I have seen so many men in need of water. Crying for it like a long-lost friend. I have seen them perish without it, others cry in relief when they finally got it. I had always wondered at the taste of it. Maybe it was fitting that I try it first. So, I did. I raised the cup and let the clear liquid in. Tasted it. Mild is all I can say. But it was good. Cool and mild. Then I swallowed it. Well… the body did. It seemed to know what to do. That was a relief. I drank the rest in one go and felt better afterward. Apparently, I had been thirsty too. I put the cup down and gave the food my attention again. The body knew how to swallow so I went at it with a new-found eagerness. I picked up the fork, but that felt funny. I looked at it completely bewildered for a moment. Of course, cutlery is not the same around the world, some places they just use their hands. I contemplated that, but then took the fork in the other hand. That felt better. Seemed I was right-handed. And slow minded, I reflected with resentment. But the food was good. Once I got the hang of twirling the spaghetti onto the fork, the food went down with speed. It was tasty, salty, and easy to chew. I ate every bit of it. Then I concentrated on the fruit. These juicy, sweet, and sour little bits of nutrition.

Hungry, were you? said Rose. This time there was a bigger smile on her lips. It suited her.

Yes, I said again as I finished chewing the last pieces of fruit. The word had worked for me so far.

A good appetite is a good sign, she added.

Yes, I said again, getting the hang of it now.

Though I can’t recall ever seeing anyone eating hospital food with such eagerness.

I thought about this for a few seconds. It was very good, I said.

Really? Tasteless sauce and overcooked spaghetti? You did hit your head, didn’t you?

Yes, I added helpfully.

That made her laugh and cry at the same time. It really was too much of a riddle for me, so I simply waited for her to finish.

Oh God, Ben. How could this happen? What are we going to do with you?

This was not a yes or no question, and anyway I had no idea how to answer her. I didn’t even know why she seemed determined to stay in this white and hardly furnished room with me. Or, more accurately, with Ben.

You know me, I said. Could you tell me a little about yourself?

She wiped away her tears and nodded. It’s Rose. Rose Klein. I’m a nurse here… obviously. This is Ashdale Hospital. I work in the ER. I’ve known you… we have known each other since we were kids, Ben.

That was not correct. She had known Old Ben of course. I had only just met her. Still. I felt some compassion for her plight. She thought her friend was injured, but it was truly worse than that.

Rose? said a voice long before its bearded owner had walked in through the door. Right behind it came the form of a young man, likely Ben’s own age or a couple of years younger. He was a little bit shorter though and he had a few more pounds around the waist. He was dressed in jeans and a blue and white striped shirt, carrying a satchel over his shoulder. His face was the friendliest I had seen. Granted, I had not seen many so far with these new eyes, but still. The guy was simply likable. And talkative.

Rose, I got your message, oh my God. Is it true, has he lost his memory? Hi Ben. Oh, you wouldn’t remember me going all soapy on us. Seriously, can something like this really happen? I mean amnesia? For real?

I blinked. Is that my name then, Soapy?

No, Rose sighed. Don’t listen to him. This is Peter, my brother.

Hi, Peter ventured and gave a halfhearted wave in case I would confuse him with the other and invisible man in the room. Come on, Ben. What the hell happened? Were you in an accident?

I don’t know, I lied. Bewilderment and confusion were soaring through the body as a result of my failure to leave it. I still managed to think somewhat straight, and telling the truth of what had happened to me, or Old Ben, would not be a good idea. I knew what inconveniences I would be troubled with if they thought I was not in my right mind or if they knew what Old Ben had done. Best to go with the amnesia thing.

They found him washed up by the river, Rose added. The paramedics swore that he had broken several bones, but there wasn’t a mark on him when he came here. Nothing wrong except he doesn’t remember anything.

Jeez, Ben. What the hell? Peter said.

I still don’t know, I said. They both looked at me like they were expecting something from me. I remember waking up next to the water, and then here. That’s it. It didn’t help much. They were still looking at me, especially the woman. I tried a different approach, diverting the attention away from myself. What kind of siblings are you? I asked. The woman had eastern features and the man western, so despite my situation, I got a bit curious.

First of all, wow, Peter began as I mentioned this. Did you become archaic in your head today? Eastern-looking… seriously. She’s Korean. Anyway, we have the same dad.

So, you have also known Ben… me… since childhood then?

Yeah, don’t you remember… oh… well, we all grew up on the same street, went to the same schools, more or less. It’s so weird to have to tell you these things.

It’s even weirder to hear them, trust me on that, I said, but of course the true meaning of that escaped them. So, what is it you do, Peter? Are you a nurse as well?

Hah, we try to keep the patients alive you know, Rose smirked.

I work with developing computer games and some freelance work of course. But you know about that… no you don’t. Damn, this is confusing. Peter looked like someone trying to shed his skin the way he was twisting, looking like he wanted to bolt and stay at the same time.

Peter, said Rose, it’s not contagious. Calm down.

It seemed to work. At least the man stopped squirming. You’re the eldest, aren’t you? I said to Rose. She was about to answer, but yet again there was someone at the door.

Rose, Ben. I just got the message. I was in a meeting and—

The owner of the voice stopped as he got into the room and saw me. The sight of me in a hospital bed was not what he had expected for some reason. That struck me as strange. He had to have known since Rose had informed him, but then again Peter did not seem to want to acknowledge the truth either. Very strange behavior indeed. The man had dark brown hair, he was clean shaven and dressed in a suit. As humans go he was handsome and he got a look of relief from Rose as he came further into the room, as if he himself could fix anything that was wrong. Not bloody likely, I thought. Not this problem.

Are you all right, Ben? What happened?

I was about to answer, but Rose got ahead of me. This is Walter. My fiancé, she told me, and then turned back to him, and no, it’s not all right. Ben’s lost his memory.

Yeah, you said as much in your message… but seriously?

Oh my God, yes, seriously. Amnesia. Get it into your heads the both of you. This was followed by complete silence. Rose the nurse. So calm and tiny compared to the rest of us, but clearly the highest authority.

I did not care much for this silence. Although I wanted them all to leave, so I could, in turn, do the same, it was clear that that wasn’t going to happen. But the silence and stares were more than I could bear. And how is it we know each other then? Through Rose here? I asked the newcomer.

You see? Peter broke in. He doesn’t even sound like himself. All formal like.

Oh come on, Peter. Something happened to him, said Walter and then looked at me. No, we met in college. And then Rose and I met through you.

Walter is a lawyer. He works here at the hospital. In the legal department, Rose added.

Yeah, but that’s not important right now, her fiancé said. What actually happened?

At this point, I was starting to get a bit exasperated. I was supposed to be suffering from memory loss, so why did they keep asking me what had happened? Did they truly expect an answer? Looking back at my first moments in the hospital it is not surprising that I got the same question again and again. Apparently, this is normal procedure when people don’t like the answer they are getting in the first place. When it does not suit them. And so, yet again, I had to utter the increasingly familiar words, I don’t know.

Rose seemed to understand this frustration because she took over. Explaining that something traumatic was the most likely cause. That I had been found next to the river – unconscious, and that we would not know much more until a doctor had done a proper assessment of me. This, of course, would be futile. Old Ben would never have his memories back because he was no more. And now I had to deal with his friends and also doctors. It was an annoyance.

But how long does it usually last? Walter asked when Rose was done.

Forever, I wanted to say. Rose, though, shrugged and told us it could be days, it could be longer.

Can’t we hit him over the head and see if that works? said Peter.

The memory of the pain from the body fusing with me by the riverside instantly came back. The thought of feeling that immense pain again was intimidating. I did not like the way it made me feel at all. The muscles tensed, I felt cold and warm at the same time and I became acutely aware of every person around me. I realized it had to be fear, and in the midst of it I had no knowledge of how to interpret irony so like an idiot I looked at Peter and blurted, Why would you do that?

What? No, I—

Don’t listen to him, Rose interrupted. It was only a stupid joke. We don’t know anything yet. We need to wait and hear what the doctor has to say.

But I don’t need a doctor, I protested.

Yes, you do. She paused for a moment and looked at me. I had no way of interpreting the look. And I think, she continued, looking at her brother and fiancé, that you need to rest.

To this, I had no objections. If they would only leave me alone, maybe I could calm down enough, simply focus enough to leave the weak shell in which I was imprisoned. However, after they had shut the door behind them, it didn’t go as I planned. I had closed the eyes and was concentrating on steadying the breath. Trying repeatedly to separate from the flesh that seemed glued to me. At some point during this ordeal, everything went black. Apparently, the body claimed rest and care after the ordeal it had been through, and I had no say. For a while, I disappeared into a black and unknown oblivion.

5

It turned out to be sleep of course. So far, I had only passed out or been drugged. Normal sleep took me by surprise. It was a strange sensation waking up. It happened slow, with a lingering drowsiness that I had to blink away. I knew what sleep was, but the experience was startling. How could it be that it didn’t throw people into a panic? Disappearing for so long. Having no control over the body. It was disturbing. I was, however, not given too much time to think about it. There were voices in the room. I looked around and saw Rose and Walter standing by the door, talking in low voices so as not to wake me.

—have happened? I heard Walter saying.

That’s not what worries me most right now. He seems so completely… oh I don’t know… irregular.

Yeah, but isn’t that normal? He lost his memory. It’s only natural that he acts differently.

Listen, Walter. I have seen a couple of cases like this before, and something’s amiss. He didn’t panic. He didn’t even seem worried. He hasn’t asked anything about himself. That’s what they do, you know. When they don’t know who they are, there’s nothing they want more than to find out.

But haven’t you and Peter Pan been force-feeding him information about himself? Besides, we don’t know what happened to him. Even if he doesn’t remember the trauma, it doesn’t mean he’s not traumatized, does it? Maybe he’s still in shock?

I guess you’re right, but… oh God, Walter, he didn’t even remember that he’s right-handed. She started crying again, but this time she was pulled in to her fiancé’s embrace for comfort. This should probably have touched me, but I must admit that I didn’t really care. I was more interested in where her brother had gone since he was the one suggesting hitting me in the head. I didn’t get to ask them, however, as there came a knock at the door. Walter let go of Rose and opened it.

A familiar voice said, I’m looking for a… and then there was some rustling of papers, a Benjamin Reed.

I sat up a little at this, drawing the attention of both Rose and Walter.

He’s here, said Walter, but he’s not well. Who are you?

Detective Jones, said the voice. I need to ask him some questions.

Surely you can do that later. As I told you, he’s not well.

This is a matter of some urgency, and I—

It’s fine, I interrupted at this point. Let her in. I have to admit I was curious. I remembered the voice from the river, and sure enough, the same woman who’d been there when I woke up came into the room. I still had no idea how to interpret her look, but it made me uncomfortable for some reason like I had done something I shouldn’t. When she didn’t say anything, I decided to break the silence. In retrospect, that was likely her tactic.

Is that my name then? I looked at Rose who nodded.

Didn’t we tell you? she added.

No, they had not. They had told me much else, but not that. Then again, as she had pointed out moments ago, I hadn’t asked either.

Aha… yes, the nurse outside said there was a case of… amnesia, said the policewoman. Her strategically placed pauses were clear enough even for me to catch on. She didn’t believe any of it.

We don’t know too much yet, Rose said as she and Walter came closer.

Oh, I’m sure. Jones was smiling.

What exactly is it we can help you with? said Walter.

You? Nothing. I have to talk to Mr. Reed here about this morning.

Sure, I said, knowing that people in this part of the world in general trusted men and women of the law and usually did what they asked. Not to do so could lead to more problems and I felt I had enough of those at this point.

Can you tell me what happened last night?

No, not really.

No, huh?

I don’t remember anything.

Of course. Meaning you don’t know how you ended up in the river?

Exactly.

What do you remember?

I remember waking up. Then there was cursing, that was you, I believe, and then there was a lot of shouting. A man I think.

Yeah, that was the paramedic. You were mistaken for dead, you see. Broken bones, no pulse, very pale. Very dead. And then you woke up. She narrowed her eyes at this last part.

I went back to the simple yes at this. It did not seem to work very well with this woman though.

An occurrence such as this is highly unusual.

Is there a point to this? said Walter. Surely it’s not against the law not to die?

No, it’s not.

Then why these questions about where he was last night?

Jones ignored this and looked at me instead. And you don’t remember seeing any other people last night?

I remembered the people on the bridge trying to stop Ben, but I did not think that was what she was asking, and anyway I couldn’t very well say anything about it so yet again I had to answer that I didn’t know. Jones just nodded silently.

You’re sure you want to stick with that answer?

At this point, I was starting to get annoyed because of these people who couldn’t deal with the answers they got. Walter, however, suddenly took charge.

You know what? I want to know why you’re asking these questions.

And why is that?

Because I’m his lawyer, and the way you’re talking it seems like he needs one. Especially since he doesn’t know his own name.

Jones smirked. A lawyer already huh? Apparently, that told her something about me, something I didn’t understand at the time. Well, she continued. You were not the only body washed up from the river. We got the call of two bodies this morning, you and another one. It washed up fifteen yards away from where we found you. She paused again and looked closely at me, the amber eyes trying to burn into me, her face framed by her dark hair. I had no idea what to say to this because I didn’t know how it affected me at all. It was a good thing Walter was there

I assume you mean a dead body?

Yes, I do, and not just any dead body, but the body of Dimitri Okanov, a well-known person to the police. The pathologist puts his death to a couple of hours before we found you. That is why I want to know what you were doing last night.

I was about to say something, but Walter stopped me. You don’t have to say anything, he said firmly. Is my client a suspect?

A suspect? Rose interrupted. How can he be? He writes self-help books for God’s sake.

I do? I blurted and then wondered why. What was it with this stupid body that made me say things without thinking them through?

Jones and Walter ignored the both of us. A suspect? I would call him a person of interest.

Well at this time, your person of interest can’t remember his own phone number let alone what happened to him or your victim.

So it seems.

Which is why I suggest that we resume this interview at another time, Walter pressed.

Jones looked at him for a long time, but in the end, she smiled and nodded. I’ll need his clothes and belongings though. Everything he had on him when he was brought in.

Of course. We’re only happy to cooperate.

Oh, I’m sure you are.

Walter got Rose to help Jones find my things, and as soon as they left the room I asked Walter if I was in some sort of trouble. He seemed to think this through for a little while. I hope not, but I don’t like this detective. There’s too much of a bloodhound about her.

6

The next two days went by – oh so slowly. I was shut up in a white and sterile room with nothing to do except talk to Ben’s friends who popped by all too often. I talked to a doctor who wanted to know unimportant things, and experienced other unpleasant things as well. The food was still good though. It was the horrible body. I could not get rid of it try as I might. And the thing was burdensome. There was itching, yawning, muscle cramping from lying still, pain in the head, and do not get me started on emptying the bowels. I honestly cannot understand how you can live like that. I will not go in to detail and even though there was a point of relief the thing was repulsive. The thought of having to do that again was enough to make me forget my boredom for a little while. Nevertheless, it was the doctor who was worst. He kept asking questions I couldn’t answer and the ‘I don’t knows’ were starting to annoy me. I was realizing a few things though, not that I could tell the doctor. I knew I didn’t belong in the body and that I was not human. I could remember seeing Ben and subsequently taking over. I could also remember many things from other places – and other times. At least I thought so. It was rather tangled up. I knew that these were not Ben’s memories, they were without a doubt mine, but they were difficult to sort out. The reason for that I discovered the second time the doctor came to bother me. I knew certain things about myself and had no problem separating myself from Ben, but it became clear to me that I was not entirely sure who I was. I had a strong sense of me, but little regarding my identity and purpose. It was difficult to fathom since I had such a distinct memory of being me before I trapped myself in the body. I was something different from the people around me, older as well, I was in no doubt about that. When realizing this it also dawned on me that I did actually have some form of memory loss. It was not a complete lie. Was that what had been hindering my escape from the body? It seemed like as good an explanation as any other. It was therefore that I decided that I had to get my memory back. I also informed the doctor of this, not the actual reason of course, but at least he became a bit more bearable afterward. Apparently, I had said something he wanted me to. It did not matter much to me. I was stuck there with little to do. There were always people watching over me. The need to leave was strong, and so, on the second evening of my stay at the hospital, I got out of bed and left the room. Peter had brought me some clothes so I could wear something other than the hospital-gown, and so it was that I took a stroll in the hospital corridors wearing a T-shirt and pajama bottoms.

It didn’t seem to matter that the sun was going down outside, the corridors were bustling with life. I could see other patients, but for the most part, there were hospital employees dressed in their uniform scrubs, roaming around on different errands. No one seemed to pay me any attention. With no visible disease or injury, I didn’t look like anyone who needed any either.

As I kept moving between people and past different rooms it occurred to me that I didn’t know where exactly in the hospital I was. I hadn’t asked. It was this lack of interest in myself – that is to say, Ben – that the doctor and Rose didn’t like. What did strike me on a positive note was how familiar my surroundings seemed. I knew I was accustomed to hospitals. Like I had entered them more times than anyone could count. Why? I knew I had not been a doctor – I was not human after all. But why was I needed at hospitals? I knew I had to remember something. It was important, but to remember I had to know who I was. How else could I know what I wanted? The whole thing was confusing for the weak brain and it took a few seconds to realize that I had stopped dead in my tracks. I was standing right outside a patient-room and I knew, like I knew I didn’t belong in the body I was wearing, that I had to go in there. It was a strange sensation. I had been experiencing so many of those since I woke up by the river, but this was very different. It had nothing to do with the body and everything to do with me. I had to go into the room because I was supposed to be there. It manifested as this prickling sensation on the back of the neck and in the already hurting head, steering me in the right direction. I even had a hand on the doorknob before coming to this realization. No need to knock. I opened the door slowly and with no sound, and entered.

It was a room much like the one they had put me in. I turned the eyes toward the bed where a little old lady lay staring back at me. She didn’t seem particularly surprised by the fact that a stranger had entered her room. She had such a wrinkly face, lined by experiences of a long life. She was terribly thin as well. I could see the bones under her pale skin. It was her eyes that drew attention though. They were striking and gave a hint of beauty during youth. She just kept staring. For a moment it made me uncomfortable. It was the silence again. Then, she blinked and smiled at me.

There you are, she said with such relief. I’ve been waiting so long.

I had no idea who she thought I was. A grandson? Before I could ask though, her frail body suddenly convulsed, her eyes rolling back in her head, before she slumped down on the bed.

I stood there slack-jawed and staring at the old thing that was suddenly empty. I barely registered the alarm and people running in a few moments afterward. They were milling around the bed trying to help the woman. It didn’t take long before one of the nurses started leading me to the door telling me to get out. Through all the noise from the room, I could hear the body’s voice asking what was going on.

She’s had a stroke, the nurse said before she went back into the room and shut the door. I remained on the outside, the body struggling to draw breath with ease for some reason.

Scaring old ladies as well? asked a now familiar voice behind me.

No, Detective, I said as I turned around to see her leaning against the wall. It’s the other way around.

Uh-huh?

Can I help you with something?

I don’t know. Can you? I dropped by to see if your memory has come back.

No such luck.

She nodded at this, almost like she had expected it, but it left me with an uncertain feeling. It seemed that whatever I said she didn’t believe me, and considering she was a person who could make things difficult for me, that was a bad thing indeed.

Does the name Okanov mean anything to you? Jones asked.

If it does then I don’t know, I said as I realized that the noise from the people in the old woman’s room had stopped. I knew why. I did not need to be told. I started walking away and Jones disentangled herself from the wall and fell in beside me. That was the other dead person, yes?

Yes. There were indeed two at one point.

Did I know him? I asked, ignoring her comment.

That’s what I’m asking you, Mr. Reed.

Yes, but under the circumstances, I need to be asking you. Through the corner of the left eye, I could see her watching me.

I’m trying to find out, she finally said as a nurse whirled around us on her own secret errand.

When you do, please let me know, I said and turned right around a corner and sped up so much that there was no misunderstanding the conversation was over. If she had more to say she had to follow me, which she surely had done to the old woman’s room. That fact was, as so many other things, troubling. She didn’t come running though, and so I could at least return to my room alone and be in peace for a little while.

7

Why do you have a key? I asked as Peter unlocked Ben’s mailbox and started pulling out more and more envelopes and some magazines.

Because I’m the one picking up your mail every time you’re on a book signing thing or doing research or something. He dropped some of the envelopes on the floor. Cursing, he bent down and started picking them up. Besides, you don’t have a key, so count yourself lucky.

He had a point. In actuality, I had nothing but the clothes on the body, and they were not mine either. Neither was the apartment we were on our way to see. Not in the technical sense at least. Everything up there belonged to Ben.

Peter had met me at the hospital when they released me and taken me home. He and his sister had wanted me to stay with either him or her but I had kindly yet decisively refused this. It was better I stayed alone in order to figure this mess out. So, I had followed Peter to Harrow, one of the five major districts in Ashdale, where Old Ben lived in one of the apartment buildings.

For God’s sake, why do all these loonies write to you? Don’t they know about e-mail?

Loonies? I said looking down at him as he picked up the last letter.

Yeah. People who want you to—

Ben. Oh, Ben. A shrill voice interrupted. Thank God you’re safe. I was so very sure you were not.

I barely had time to register Peter rolling his eyes before turning around and seeing the most astonishing woman I had met so far. She was a little shorter than the body I was in, ten, fifteen years older and with a high-strung energy. She had a mop of raven-black hair with a few dark red stripes in it. The makeup around her eyes was thick and pitch black. Her garments – what other word could there be? – were billowing around her in bright red colors. Her glasses were the only serious-looking thing on her. I was staring at this apparition as she seemed to float toward me.

I have not seen you in a while, she announced and grabbed the hands. Were you traveling? Because you always tell me when you are.

I do?

Of course, silly.

I looked back at Peter who had now risen with all the mail in his hands.

Why is she calling me silly? I asked.

Peter shook his head. Never mind. He cleared his throat. Ben, this is Sophie, also known as Elena Kiselev, the seer of Sakha.

The… what?

What? she echoed, also looking at Peter now.

She’s a psychic, Peter explained.

Oh, I said, then added a yes for good measure.

What is going on? The woman’s voice was softer at this confusion.

Ben was in some sort of an accident and lost his memory.

Her eyes widened a bit at this and she squeezed the hands. "I knew something was wrong. I simply knew it."

Considering she had not known anything two seconds ago I doubted this.

You must come for a reading. You simply must. Perhaps the spirits will tell us what happened.

Who?

That will have to be later, Peter interrupted. Ben needs rest now. Doctor’s orders, you understand?

Of course. She nodded vigorously, all smiles. You are welcome anytime, Ben. And with that, she fluttered out the doors like a wind of black and red.

I stared after her for a moment. What was that?

Exactly what it appeared to be, said Peter as he gave me a push toward the stairs. The great seer of Sakha who forgot to choose a Russian name for her Russian persona. Or Bullfinch Sophie, if you will. He was not trying to hide his smirk at that last part.

I followed him up to the third floor. He seemed a bit out of breath after the stairs, but out of more interest to myself, I noticed that I was not. Peter unlocked the door to an apartment that was supposed to be mine, and let me enter first in the hopes that something could trigger a memory. I obliged simply to avoid any disappointed comments.

It was tidy and neat. That was the first thought I had at the sight of Old Ben’s home. My home as it were. I didn’t know exactly what I had expected. Perhaps something more disordered from a person whose life had been chaotic enough to jump from a bridge?

I heard Peter putting down the mail on a small table near the door. Other than that, he remained behind me. Waiting for something. Expecting something from me, I realized.

I walked further into the apartment, uncertain of what to do. I didn’t know what people did in their homes at all. What was the proper protocol? I decided to have a look around, get to know the place. That was what Ben’s friends wanted me to do, after all.

It was a bigger place than it looked at first. The living room and kitchen made out the larger part, but I also found a sizeable bathroom, bedroom, and an office. In addition, there was a balcony where the resident could sit and enjoy the view of the street below and the neighboring buildings. Light colors seemed to dominate the rooms inside, the furniture as well. A lot of white. I saw abstract paintings on the walls, they provided most of the colors. There were not many photos, but I found a few on a shelf and some more on the refrigerator. All of Ben and his friends, I assumed. Some of the faces I didn’t recognize, but most of them were of Rose, Walter, and Peter. I went back into the living room and found him still standing by the door.

Do I have any family? I asked. The photos only showed people of Ben’s age.

Peter looked uncomfortable. No… well yes… only… you see… He drew breath. You have a mother, but you don’t talk much. No father.

I nodded at this partial and incomprehensive piece of information. It explained the photos, and no family meant fewer people to complicate things further. Ben’s friends were more than enough for the time being.

This is a nice place, isn’t it? I said and headed for the couch.

Uh, yeah. Peter seemed confused by the sudden change of topic. He asked if I wanted a drink and headed for the kitchen. I barely heard myself say yes because at this point I had noticed some interesting things on the living room table. Ben’s wallet, cell phone, a list of words I did not understand and a letter addressed to ‘to whom it may concern.’ This made me suspicious and I snatched up the papers and tucked them into the pockets of the jeans that Walter had bought me. I heard Peter coming back and grabbed the phone and wallet and stuffed them under one of the couch cushions.

Water or soda? he asked and tossed me a water bottle when I replied. The head was still hurting and I hoped it would help. I had thought it a bit odd that though the rest of the body had healed the head would not give in. A lot had happened and I hoped it would work itself out.

So, how could I afford this? I asked Peter who was gulping down some black fluid.

Didn’t we tell you? he said. The books… the loonies?

Like the one we met downstairs?

That made him snort soda back into the can. No, not her, he said, placing the can on the table. Then he got up and went over to a bookcase where he found several books that he brought back to me. I looked at them. Recognized Ben’s name of course, but that was all I understood.

"Ten simple rules to improve your life. The amazing power of our brain. Life, a riddle? Really? I wrote these?"

Uh huh. Very popular too. At least your last four books.

Do I… I started, thinking of how not to seem uninterested in Old Ben’s life. Do I believe in this myself?

That got a smile from him. About sixty percent I’d say. The rest is business.

So, this is what Ben does, I said, looking with calmness at the books strewn over the table. There were eight of them. What does the J stand for? The books were written by Ben J. Reed.

Peter shook his head. "Nothing, just… you know… You freelance for Current Magazine from time to time," he added instead.

I had no idea what that was and therefore only nodded. Old Ben was some sort of reporter. That didn’t help me at all. I needed to find out how to leave this prison, not how the previous Ben had gone about his daily life. I chatted with Peter, asked a few questions here and there to make him content that I had an interest in getting my memory back, so he, in turn, would not spend a lot of time pestering me on not wanting to heal. It was a grueling half hour, but finally, he had to go to work.

There’s some food in your fridge, so you’ll be all right a while. And you seem to have had a cleaning day before the accident too, so that’s great. And—

I am not a child… I interrupted as politely as I could.

No, dude, sorry. It’s just… I don’t know what to do about this.

Neither do I.

This seemed to lift his spirits for some reason because he smiled again. Okay then. We’ll check up on you later.

This made me groan inside, but I managed a smile.

"Okay then, so try to relax, watch some TV, don’t take a walk unless you’re sure you remember where you live. And if you’re curious about anything look it up on Wikipedia… but don’t take everything you find there