Page 25 of Guarded By the Reaper

His words warmed something inside me – a tiny spark of hope in the darkness.

Chapter Thirteen

Grim

I looked into Millie’s blue eyes, and something inside me shifted. It wasn’t the usual detachment I felt when dealing with clients. This was different. Deeper. More intense. For a moment, I forgot what I was. The years of death and suffering faded away, and I felt almost human. The urge to protect her wasn’t just about fulfilling a contract anymore. It was personal.

I wanted her to be mine.

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. If I still had a stomach, it would’ve been doing backflips. Instead, I felt a strange tingling where my heart used to be. It was ridiculous. I was a Grim Reaper, for crying out loud! We didn’t do feelings. We didn’t do attachments.

But here I was, imagining a future with Millie. A future that couldn’t exist.

Reality came crashing back, cold and harsh. In less than two weeks, Millie would be gone, her soul devoured by Ma-Vasha. And I’d be left here, alone again, just like always.

I’d seen countless lives end. I’d guided souls to their final destinations. But this... This was different. The thought of Millie’s light being snuffed out, her warmth and kindness consumed by that soul-eating monster… It made me want to rage against the universe.

I squeezed Millie’s hand, a newfound determination coursing through me. The sensation of her warm flesh against my cold bones sent a jolt through my entire being.

“You cannot die.”

Millie smiled bitterly. There was resignation in her eyes. The sight made my chest ache.

“A deal is a deal, Grim. That’s the first rule, isn’t it? I have to drink Ma-Vasha’s poison. There’s no way around it.”

Her words ignited a spark of rebellion within me. Rules had governed my existence for so long, but now they felt suffocating, restrictive.

“Forget about the first rule. It’s stupid,” I said, surprising myself with the vehemence in my voice. The strength of my own emotions caught me off guard.

“But no one can negotiate with Ma-Vasha,” Millie argued. “You know that.”

I leaned forward, my empty eye sockets fixed on her. The urge to protect her, to shield her from this fate, was overwhelming.

“I’ll find a way to get you out of this deal.”

“How?” Millie asked. The vulnerability in her tone made me want to wrap her in my cloak and hide her from the world.

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted, feeling a twinge of frustration at my own helplessness. “But I’ll find a way.”

Millie’s brow furrowed. “Why do you even want to help me? Your job is just to guard me for two weeks and then move on.”

The question caught me off guard. Why did I want to help her? I’d seen countless people die, guided innumerable souls to their final rest. What made Millie different? I searched within myself, trying to understand the depth of my own feelings.

“Because you’re too good to die,” I said, the words feeling inadequate as soon as I spoke them. “And because your sister needs you.”

Millie’s eyes widened. The mention of her sister seemed to touch something inside her.

“But people die all the time,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to our intertwined hands. “Good people, bad people. It doesn’t matter in the end, does it?”

I sighed, a habit from my human days that I’d never quite shaken. The weight of a century’s worth of deaths pressed down on me.

“You’re right. Death doesn’t discriminate. I’ve seen saints and sinners alike cross over. But this is different.”

“How?”

I struggled to find the words, to articulate the feelings that were so foreign to me after decades of emotional detachment.

“In my line of work, you see a lot of endings,” I said slowly, each word carefully chosen. “Some peaceful, some violent. Some expected, some not. But yours feels wrong. Like a story cut short before its time.”

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