My dad is the Grim Reaper

I awoke with a splitting headache, unsure how long I had slept, and found the world outside still cloaked in darkness. My throat was unbearably parched, so I rose to pour a glass of water and, glancing at the clock, discovered it had scarcely passed midnight.

At that moment, a gentle knock sounded at the door. Expecting Williams, I was surprised to see that it was instead James and John. I invited them in and asked why they had come unannounced.

James exchanged a glance with John, who nudged him forward and signaled discreetly.

"B-boss, John and I have urgent business to discuss!"

Judging by the tension in their expressions, I knew trouble was afoot. "Spare me the dithering—speak plainly. And why hasn't Williams arrived?"

"It's about Williams—he… he's been taken!"

"Taken? By whom? Explain!"

After a long while of stammering, I finally understood: they claimed that beneath an ancient, centuries-old tree—where a wolf demon lurked—Williams had been captured.

"What? There are demons in New York?"

"Of course there are! Along the banks of the Hudson stands a four- or five-hundred-year-old oak. Within its gnarled branches dwells a tree spirit, and beneath it lurks a wolf demon endowed with formidable powers. We lesser specters must tread carefully, lest we incur his wrath."

I knew of this venerable oak well—I had grown up near it at my grandmom's house, where I often played beneath its boughs. To think that a wolf demon might dwell beneath its roots was beyond my wildest imaginings!

Just a fortnight ago, I believed ghostly tales were mere myth. Yet these past days have forced me to accept the existence of the supernatural. Now, to hear that in New York there are not only tree spirits but also wolf demons—it is almost too terrifying to fathom, as though it were a script for a film!

"And how, then, did Williams come to be seized?"

"Boss, you see, Williams has always had a penchant for petty thievery. This time…"

John continued, "This evening, as the three of us ambled along the Hudson, we noticed some fruit beneath the oak—of unknown origin—and in jest, we dared each other to pilfer one."

With his head bowed, James murmured, "It's all my fault—I should never have joked about it. I never imagined that stealing a single apple would lead to his capture!"

After further prodding, they hesitantly revealed the whole tale: among the phantoms, Williams was known as one who was often bullied. Yet, emboldened by his association with me, he had grown boastful of his newfound stature. A careless remark from John had given him the chance to flaunt his mettle, only for the situation to spiral disastrously out of control.

Truth be told, I am uncertain of the true extent of my own powers as the Reaper; in the eyes of those more illustrious, I might be nothing more than an inconspicuous pawn. And now, while I have not yet grown conceited, Williams has already become arrogantly self-assured. With this debacle unfolding, I find myself at a loss as to how to resolve it.

"Did you not say that the ancient oak harbors a tree spirit? Surely, if this misdeed occurs beneath its very gaze, it should intervene?"

"The oak's spirit is old and nearly deaf, and the wolf demon is a master of deceit and sycophancy—he has the tree spirit wrapped around his finger and will not help us; besides, we rarely catch even a glimpse of him!" James shook his head in exasperation.

"I truly do not know what to do. I have held this post for scarcely half a month, and never have I encountered such a predicament. Yet, since the matter is now upon us, let us venture together to ascertain the demon's disposition."

The two phantoms assented immediately. Fortunately, the ancient oak was not far from my abode. Having imbibed a bit and opting not to drive, I mounted my bicycle and reached it in about ten minutes.

At the oak's base, I circled it thoughtfully, pondering how I might summon this elusive tree spirit. Just then, a deep, resonant voice spoke from behind, "Reaper, welcome to our domain!"

I turned to see a middle-aged gentleman clad in a tailored suit extending his hand. His attire betrayed that he was no ordinary man, yet I dared not ask outright what sort of creature he was. Instead, after shaking his hand, I inquired, "Good sir, might I ask your name?"

"You may call me Wolf!"

Wolf—could it be that he was indeed the very wolf demon in question? At that moment, James and John arrived; John, hiding behind me, whispered, "He is the wolf demon!"

I nodded. "Mr. Wolf, greetings. I am new to this vocation and scarcely acquainted with its customs. Hence, I shall be frank: I have a friend named Williams who is said to have incurred your displeasure tonight. Pray, where might he be now?" I adopted the measured cadence of a gangster from a noir film, amused by the affectation.

"Oh, Williams—I know of him. This very evening, as he passed by, I invited him to my abode for a cup of coffee. Why not join me there for a cup as well?"

That invitation suited me perfectly. Though it was just past midnight and the streets were nearly deserted, I dreaded that a passerby might misconstrue my solitary conversation with thin air as lunacy.

"Very well, lead on!"

With a genial smile, Wolf waved his right hand, and in an instant the surroundings transformed; when my vision cleared, I found myself in a sumptuous living room.

Wolf ushered me into the parlor and invited me to take a seat upon a chair by the coffee table—an act of deference that bolstered my confidence. I seated myself slowly as Wolf sat beside me and, gesturing toward James and John, added, "Gentlemen, please, be seated!"

They exchanged glances with me before taking the two chairs to my right.

"I have heard that an Oak Spirit dwells here as well—might I be so fortunate as to behold him tonight?" I ventured, striving for an air of nonchalance.

"Are you referring to Mr. Oak? He is advanced in years and presently at rest; it would be unseemly to disturb him," Wolf replied. With a flick of his wrist, a cup of coffee appeared before me.

"Please, sir," he said, as another cup materialized in his own hand.

Before sipping, I hesitated—dared I partake of coffee offered by a wolf demon? Yet, having been so graciously invited, I felt compelled to drink. A single sip revealed that the coffee was exquisitely fragrant; though I am no connoisseur, its rich aroma was unmistakable.

"Ah, splendid coffee!"

"Sir, I had summoned Williams for a meeting today and did not anticipate disturbing you with his unannounced arrival. Had he mentioned your esteemed name, I would have sent him away, sparing you this late-hour inconvenience," I remarked.

"Not at all. I have heard from James that it was Williams who inadvertently troubled you. Allow me to apologize on his behalf!"

"Tonight's affair is of little consequence. Now that you have graced us with your presence, I shall not trouble him further. Come, fetch Williams!" With that, from a small door behind him, two figures emerged—the foremost being Williams, followed by a towering, burly man.

At the sight of me, Williams hurried to stand behind me. "Sir, I have returned your friend to you. That is all for today. Now that you know where I live, you are always welcome to come for coffee if you pass by next time!"

I managed a prompt, cordial smile. "Certainly, certainly."

Glancing at Williams, I saw him lower his gaze at my stern look.

"Mr. Wolf, it is very late; we shall not detain you. Perhaps another day we may reconvene for coffee."

"Very well, as you wish. I shall not linger."

In a sudden flash of light, my surroundings shifted once more, and when clarity returned, I found myself again beneath the ancient oak, with Williams, James, and John in attendance.

"Then I shall take my leave. Good sir, please," Wolf said, extending his hand.

I nodded and clasped his hand in farewell. Turning to Williams and the others, I whispered, "Let us depart at once!"

Without a backward glance, I pedaled away into the night, the eerie encounter lingering in my thoughts as I rode home.