The Last Escort

The dim glow of streetlights flickered across cracked concrete as midnight cloaked the city in a blanket of quiet unease. Only the distant hum of passing cars and the occasional gust of wind disturbed the otherwise eerie silence. Beneath a broken “CLOSED” neon sign, a man wearing a long black coat leaned against the wall of an abandoned diner. He was tall, his silhouette partially cloaked in shadows, except for the glow of a lit cigarette that illuminated the tattooed feather on his palm.

His name was Anubis.

Of course, he wasn’t just a man. In the age of smartphones, electric cars, and skyscrapers, gods like him had faded into myth. Mortals no longer built temples or offered prayers in the dead of night. But that didn’t mean the gods were gone. They had adapted, just like the rest of the world. Some had taken new identities, blending into human society, while others had become whispers on the wind, forgotten entirely.

Anubis had chosen to remain. After all, death was the one constant, and as the ancient Egyptian god of funerary rites, guiding souls had always been his purpose. But his role had changed. Gone were the grand tombs and golden sarcophagi. Now, the dead appeared in alleys, hospital beds, or abandoned apartments, and it was Anubis who helped them cross over—discreetly, unseen.

Tonight would be no different.

He glanced at his phone, the cracked screen displaying a single notification: Escort required. 23rd and Mercer. He sighed, stuffing the phone back into his pocket before stepping away from the diner. His boots echoed against the pavement as he walked toward the address. The air was cold, biting against his skin, but it didn’t bother him. He had weathered deserts more brutal than any city could offer.

When he arrived, the scene was exactly what he had expected: a quiet, forgotten corner of the city, marked only by a rusted dumpster and a streetlamp struggling to stay lit. The smell of mildew and gasoline lingered in the air, but beneath it was something more familiar to him—death.

A man lay slumped against the wall, his head tilted to the side, eyes closed. His coat was torn, revealing bruises on his neck and arms. Beside him, a broken glass bottle glinted in the dim light. Anubis knelt beside the body, his fingers brushing against the man’s wrist. No pulse.

“Poor soul,” Anubis muttered.

He could feel the man’s spirit lingering nearby, confused and disoriented, as most were. Gently, Anubis closed the man’s eyes before standing. With a wave of his hand, a soft golden glow emerged from the ground, forming a portal only visible to those who could cross it. Out of the shadows stepped the spirit, translucent and wide-eyed.

“What… What happened?” the man asked, his voice shaky.

“You’ve died,” Anubis said calmly, his voice low and soothing. “It’s time to move on.”

The man blinked, tears welling up in his eyes. “But I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Anubis interrupted. “It wasn’t your time.”

The man hesitated, glancing at the portal. “What’s on the other side?”

Anubis smiled faintly. “Release.”

The man wiped his eyes, nodding slowly. “Will anyone miss me?”

“More than you know,” Anubis replied. “But they’ll find their way, just as you will.”

With one last look at the alley, the man stepped into the light. The portal shimmered before vanishing, leaving the street as empty as before. Anubis exhaled, the weight of another soul added to his collection of burdens. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a break. Death didn’t wait for vacations or time off.

As he turned to leave, his phone buzzed again. Another notification. But this one wasn’t a request for an escort—it was a name.

Dr. Laila Hassan.

Anubis’s chest tightened. Laila wasn’t a stranger. She was someone he had known for months, a forensic pathologist at the city morgue. They had crossed paths often—too often, in his opinion. Whenever bodies with unexplained deaths arrived, Laila was usually the one to uncover the truth. Anubis had admired her sharp mind and compassionate heart, though he had kept his distance. Getting involved with mortals always led to complications.

But this notification wasn’t about an investigation. It was a warning.

She was dying.

Anubis didn’t hesitate. He sprinted down the street, weaving through traffic as he made his way to the hospital. His breath came in steady, determined puffs, and despite the chaos of the city around him, he focused on one thing: reaching her before it was too late.

When he arrived, the sterile smell of antiseptic burned his nostrils. He followed the energy of her soul, navigating the maze-like corridors until he found her room. Peering through the small window on the door, he saw her lying in bed, hooked up to machines that beeped rhythmically. Her skin was pale, and her breathing was shallow.

Anubis stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, they locked onto his.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice weak but steady. “I was hoping you would come.”

He sat beside her, taking her hand gently. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled faintly. “Don’t be.”

“Laila, you’ve done so much good. There’s still time—”

“There isn’t,” she interrupted. “I’ve seen enough to know when death is near. I’ve had a good life.”

Anubis looked down, guilt gnawing at him. Having the power to guide souls is not the same as being able to stop death itself. That had always been the rule, no matter how much he hated it.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she continued. “I’ve always felt… like there was something special about you.”

He chuckled softly. “You wouldn’t believe the truth if I told you.”

“Try me,” she said with a playful glint in her eye.

For a moment, he considered it. But the words didn’t come. Instead, he squeezed her hand. “Just know that you’re not alone.”

As her breathing slowed, the monitors around them began to emit a flatline tone. Anubis watched as her spirit separated from her body, glowing faintly in the dim room. She looked at him, her expression calm.

“So this is what it feels like,” she murmured, glancing at her translucent form.

Anubis stood, offering his hand. “Ready?”

She nodded, placing her hand in his. Together, they stepped into the golden light that had appeared in the corner of the room. Laila paused for a moment, glancing back at her body before looking up at him.

“Will you be okay?” she asked.

Anubis’s throat tightened. “I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He smiled faintly. “I’ll miss you.”

With a final nod, she stepped through the portal, disappearing into the light. Anubis stood alone, the room once again filled with the sterile hum of hospital machinery.

As he left the hospital and stepped back onto the cold city streets, he felt the weight of her absence press against him. Mourning was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Death never stopped, and neither could he.

Pulling his coat tighter around him, Anubis checked his phone. Another notification blinked on the screen: Escort required.

With a sigh, he began walking.