Page 23 of Guarded By the Reaper

The sweet scent of roses filled the air as I entered the garden. Mom finally stopped, her back to me. My heart was pounding, a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“Mom?” I said softly. “Is it really you?”

She turned around slowly. It wasn’t Mom. It wasn’t even human. The thing that faced me was a grotesque imitation of my mother, its features molded from clay and straw. A Poppet.

I wanted to run, to scream, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I was rooted to the spot, terror coursing through my veins. The Poppet reached out towards me with its straw claws, its lifeless eyes fixed on me. Just as I thought it was going to grab me, there was a rush of air, and suddenly Grim was there. He appeared between me and the Poppet as if by magic, his cloak billowing around him. In one fluid motion, Grim swung his scythe, and the Poppet split in two. The halves fell to the ground with a dull thud, twitching before going still.

I stood there, shaking, trying to process what had just happened. The Poppet’s face – my mom’s face – stared up at me from the ground, its eyes empty and glassy.

Grim’s bony hands shook me gently, and I blinked, slowly coming back to reality. The weight of what had just happened crashed over me, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Without a word, Grim scooped me into his arms, cradling me against his chest as he carried me back inside the house.

Once we were in the living room, he set me down on the couch, his dark eye sockets fixed on me with concern.

“I can’t believe I fell for that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I miss them so much, Grim. Mom and Dad. When I saw her face, I couldn’t help myself.”

Grim nodded, his skeletal features softening somehow. “The Poppets are crafty creatures. They prey on your deepest desires and fears.”

“I had no idea they could look like... like people we love.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “It felt so real for a moment.”

“That’s what makes them dangerous,” Grim said. “They use your emotions against you.”

I wiped my eyes, trying to pull myself together. “I’m sorry for running out like that. I should’ve known better.”

Grim shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re grieving, Millie. It’s natural to want to see them again.”

His words were comforting, especially coming from a being who dealt with death on a daily basis. I managed to smile.

“Thanks, Grim. For understanding. And for saving me out there.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” he replied, and I could’ve sworn I heard a hint of warmth in his voice. “Would you like some tea? It might help calm your nerves.”

“That would be nice, thank you,” I said, surprised by the offer.

Grim nodded and headed towards the kitchen. I followed, curious to see how a Grim Reaper would go about making tea. I leaned against the doorframe and watched him move around. His movements were stiff and awkward, like he wasn’t used to doing such mundane tasks. He opened and closed several cabinets before finding the mugs, then spent a good minute examining the tea kettle as if it were some alien artifact.

“The kettle’s electric,” I said, trying to hide my amusement. “You just need to plug it in and flip the switch.”

Grim looked at me, then back at the kettle. “Right,” he said, sounding slightly embarrassed. He fumbled with the cord for a moment before successfully plugging it in.

As we waited for the water to boil, I found myself studying Grim. It was strange seeing this powerful, otherworldly being struggling with something as simple as making tea. But it was also endearing. Five minutes later, I sat at the kitchen table cradling a warm mug of tea in my hands. Grim took the seat across from me, his dark eye sockets fixed on me.

“Thanks for the tea,” I said, taking a small sip. The warmth spread through me, calming my frayed nerves.

Grim nodded. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” I admitted. I hesitated, then decided to tell him the truth. “There’s something I need to tell you about the Poppets.”

He leaned forward, his bony fingers interlaced on the table. “What is it?”

I took a deep breath. “They... they talk to me sometimes.”

“Talk to you?” Grim’s voice was sharp with surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I hear their voices in my head,” I explained. “Usually at night, when I’m trying to sleep. But tonight, when I saw that Poppet outside...”

“It spoke to you?”

I nodded. “It told me something... something only my mom knew.”

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