Being a Guide for the recently deceased is an important and rewarding job, and honestly, not that hard. Everyone has an opinion on how you should do your job. And when dealing with the grieving, opinions turn into desperate pleas, and sometimes even more desperate demands. You can’t tell them no without crushing them. You can’t tell them yes without breaking rules.

  Dealing with the families is so much more difficult than dealing with the newly dead. Because of that, I sometimes break the rules. I think all Guides do.

  I never imagined myself becoming a Guide when I was younger. I had wanted to be an astronaut, then a baker, and then an astronaut again. By the time I was in high school, I discovered I had a gift for coding and worked in college to create a solid portfolio. That was all before I found out I had the gift. One in 1000 kids is born with the gift, and I was so “lucky” to be that one.

  The discovery didn’t feel lucky. The day I’d walked into Grandma’s house to hear the sound of old reruns of Doctor Who, I smiled and dropped my college books on the table by the door. Kicking back with Grandma while watching her favorite science fiction had been exactly what I’d needed to unwind from a stressful week.

  “It’s time to go, Katy. Our reservation won’t last forever,” Grandma said from the other room, her tone laced with impatience.

  We were going outto eat? That was disappointing news. I had wanted to order in and do nothing. “Okay,” I called back to her. “Let me just turn off the TV.”

  I stepped around the coffee table with the chipped wooden legs from where Grandma had continually crashed into it with the vacuum cleaner, swept up the remote, and hit the off button. I turned back to the doorway and froze.

  My heart clenched. Grandma was sitting in her favorite chair. Her glasses slightly askew on her face and her vacant eyes staring into nothing. Breath huffed out of me in a way that felt like it was coated in glass shards. She was dead. I knew it the moment my eyes landed on her.

  My grandmother, Caroline the kindest, funniest, most positive person I knew was gone. She’d been an elementary school teacher for over forty-five years and made a bigger difference in society than most people could ever dream of. And now she was gone.

  That’s when I heard her voice echo around the house, reminding me that I’d heard her speak as I’d let myself in.

  “It’s time to go, Katy.”

  Slowly, I lifted my gaze from the woman in Grandma’s favorite chair to face the ghostly form that was now standing near the door, tapping her foot in that way she did when she was anxious to be on her way.

  The fact that I could see her filled me with joy at the same moment my stomach turned to cement. That was the moment when all my aspirations and plans went out the window. A new path opened for me, and, damn it, I had to walk it.

  That had been seven years ago. I wasn’t sure why I was thinking about it now as I sat in the dining room of a family I had just met. Tears filled the eyes of everyone around me: three small children and a teenager. We sat together in silence, soft sobs breaking the stillness. As a Guide you become pretty numb to death. Of course, you feel empathy for the families, but seeing the bodies doesn’t faze you—even when it gets gruesome. You end up seeing dozens every day.

  A tall man stepped out of the bedroom and into the main area. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he might break at any moment. He gestured for me to come closer.

  As I crossed the room, my shoes echoed on the tile floor. One of the children, a boy no older than six, grabbed my leg. He looked up at me and whispered, “Please tell my mom I love her, one last time.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I stood frozen for a moment before nodding. Passing on the message would be the wrong choice. Performing the requests of the living on the passed could damn the soul. That was Guide Rule Number 1.

  But the look in the kid’s eyes was too much.

  Inside the room, a pale woman lay on the bed. Her chestnut-brown hair was pulled into a bun, and her slightly open eyes stared at nothing. Medical machinery was against the wall, telling me this woman had been very sick for a long time. Hopefully if the sickness had caused her pain, she can’t feel it now. Her husband walked past me, took her hand in his, and sat down beside her.

  “You don’t mind me being here, right? You don’t mind me watching? We’ve been through everything together; this shouldn’t be any different,” he said softly, never looking away from her.

  I nodded, set my backpack down, and waited. Moments like this one are usually hard for the newly passed. Giving them time after their final breath is important.

  No sooner had I thought that then an image appeared to the right of the bed—a woman in a sundress, staring at her body. Her form Shimmered slightly. It was like looking into a mirage, as the image danced from side to side while maintaining its appearance.

  Her husband didn’t look up. He couldn’t see her. That’s the thing about being a Guide—we can see and interact with the passed, but no one else can. Interestingly, the Deceased can’t see or interact with the still living. Except their Guide.

  The spirit of the woman moved to the bed and gently closed her body’s eyes. Then she turned to me.

  “This isn’t so bad, you know?” she said, her voice tinged with sadness.

  “Your children wanted you to know, one last time, that they love you,” I said, knowing I shouldn’t have said anything.

  Her ethereal hands reached up towards the pictures hung on the wall. Her hands lingered, caressing the shapes of her kids in the images. At my words, her head turned sharply toward me. Her eyes filled with love as she stared at me, but her face was set, and determined.

  “She’s here?” her husband asked, tears spilling from his eyes. “Please, tell her I love her. And… tell Cass she can have the last slice.”

  Cass, I thought. Not Cassandra. The nicknames, pet names, and shortened names that people used interested me. Cass was so much more than Cassandra. Shorter and fuller all at the same time. The people who didn’t have nicknames were far less interesting and usually far angrier about leaving.

  Cass sat down beside me, her gaze drifting to her body. “They’ll be okay without me,” she whispered. “Davin’s a great husband, and my kids are strong. This is for the best. We couldn’t afford my illness anymore. Cancer is a bitch.” Her shoulders slumped as she remembered the past, and her sickness. “Is Davin saying anything? Can you tell me how he is and what he’s saying?”

  I rested a hand on her shoulder. “Guides aren’t supposed to act as mediums, it can be dangerous if you decide to stay. We may lose you,” I said gently, “but your husband wants you to know he loves you… and you can have the last slice.”

  Cass laughed—a rich, bittersweet sound that echoed through the room. “That’s a good one. The last slice—it’s a joke from when Davin and I first started dating. My little sister, Julie was jealous of the time I spent with him. He brought over some board games and pizza, once we were at the final piece, she told him he couldn’t have it until he said he loved me. It was a little awkward at first, as we hadn’t used a word like that with each other. Then he sword fought her for the final piece. After winning he gave it to me, and told me he loved me. Ever since, it’s a thing we say before the other goes on a trip ‘you can have the last slice’.”

  She paused, her gaze lifting to the ceiling. Then she turned to me. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Are you ready to go?” I held my breath. By breaking the rules, she might not ever be ready and it would be my fault for tugging her back mentally with rem inders of her family and what she was leaving.

  “I think I am.”

  I exhaled in relief and reached into my backpack and pulled out a dreamcatcher woven with nettle fiber and jade beads. Guides use various tools and spiritual portals for journeys, but jade always felt most powerful to me. The dreamcatcher was my grandma’s favorite thing to hang around the house. She had dozens. Combining those, I was able to access the spiritual plane to allow the passed to continue on their journeys.

  “Look into it, Cass. What do you see?” I said.

  She stared deeply into the webbing. Slowly, a sparkle lit up her eyes. “I see it. I see where I’m meant to go. Thank you, Guide.”

  I smiled. “Travel well, Cass. Your passing will not be forgotten.”

  Her form dissolved into light, leaving the room silent except for Davin’s muffled sobs.

  I approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “She’s well, Davin. And she loves you. She’s made it. The cremation team should be here in a minute to talk with you. I’ll ask them to wait outside until you are ready. Take as long as you need.”

  As I left the house, I passed the children and reassured them their mother was safe. Their tearful thanks echoed behind me as I walked to my car.

  Next time, I told myself, I won’t risk the soul by breaking the rules. No matter how much they ask.