Page 28 of Guarded By the Reaper

Chapter Fifteen

Grim

My first destination was Isabelle, Norman’s ex-wife, the woman he’d left when she needed him most. Norman, my handler at Monster Security Agency, didn’t know I was visiting her. He’d probably have a fit if he found out. Not that I cared much about Norman’s feelings these days.

I’d become friends with Isabelle after their divorce. It happened by chance, really. I’d overheard Norman talking about her illness one day at the office, his voice lacking any real concern. It bothered me more than I cared to admit. So, I decided to check on her myself.

The first visit was awkward. I mean, how do you introduce yourself as your ex-husband’s undead coworker? But Isabelle surprised me. She laughed, invited me in for tea, and we talked for hours. About life, death, and everything in between. Something about her spirit, her resilience in the face of terminal illness, drew me to her. Maybe it was because I’d seen so much death, so much suffering in my long existence. Isabelle faced hers with a grace I rarely encountered.

As I made my way to her house now, my thoughts drifted to Millie. The feelings I had for her were complicated. Unfamiliar. I needed advice, and Isabelle was the wisest person I knew. Over the past months, our friendship had grown. I found myself visiting her whenever I could, between jobs, or late at night when the pain kept her awake. Isabelle never judged me for what I was. She saw past the skeleton, the darkness, the decades of baggage I carried. In her eyes, I was just Grim, her friend. It was refreshing, and it reminded me of how Millie looked at me.

I reached Isabelle’s front door, hesitating for a moment. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been having a rough day. The cancer was spreading, and the pain was getting worse. I hoped todaywas a good day. I knocked on the door, expecting Isabelle’s warm welcome. Instead, I found myself face-to-face with her daughter, Janine. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her usually neat hair was disheveled. The sight of her sent a jolt of worry through me.

“Grim,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.” Her words trembled slightly, and I could see she was struggling to keep her composure.

My non-existent stomach dropped. A feeling of dread washed over me, making my bones feel heavier than usual.

“Is everything alright?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

Janine shook her head. “Mom’s in the hospital. Her condition got worse overnight.” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “We thought... We thought we had more time.”

I stood there, frozen. Isabelle had been doing better the last time I saw her, even if she was having a difficult day. We’d laughed together, talked about her plans for the garden she wanted to plant in spring. How quickly things changed. It was a harsh reminder of the fragility of human life, something I’d witnessed countless times but never got used to.

“I’m heading there later,” Janine continued, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her shirt. “But you should go now. She’d want to see you.” Her eyes met mine, a mixture of sadness and gratitude in them. “She always brightens up when she talks about you, you know.”

I nodded, unable to form words. The thought of Isabelle, vibrant and full of life despite her illness, lying in a hospital bed stirred something deep within me. A feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Fear. Not for myself, but for someone I cared about.

Janine gave me a weak smile and closed the door. I could hear her soft sobs as she walked away, and it only strengthened my resolve. I didn’t waste any time. In a blink, I was gone, teleporting straight to the hospital.

The hospital room smelled sterile, like bleach and regret. Isabelle lay in her bed, her skin almost translucent against the white sheets. Tubes snaked around her, connected to machines that beeped and hissed, a mechanical symphony of life clinging to its last breath. Seeing her like this, so frail and diminished, was like watching a gruesome parody of life itself. The vibrancy, the fire that had always burned so brightly in her eyes, was now reduced to a flicker. The sight twisted something inside me, a dull ache in the space where my heart used to be. It was worse than witnessing any battlefield, more agonizing than the endless procession of souls I had ushered into the beyond.

“Grim?” A raspy voice broke through my thoughts. Isabelle’s eyelids fluttered open, and a weak smile touched her lips. “Did you come to collect me already?”

“Not yet, Isabelle,” I said.

A knowing look entered her eyes. “Don’t lie to a sick woman, Grim. I know my journey is nearing its end.”

“Don’t get all morbid on me now.” I pulled up a chair beside her bed, the metal legs scraping against the linoleum floor.

Isabelle chuckled. “Why not? It’s the only journey we all have left to take. But enough about me. How are you doing, Grim? Still saving damsels in distress?”

It was her way, always looking out for others, even on her deathbed. So, I told her about Millie, about the way her laughter could chase away the shadows that clung to me. I told her how Millie looked at me, not with fear or disgust, but with something akin to… wonder.

“She sounds fascinating,” Isabelle whispered, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the sterile walls of the hospital room. “And are you falling in love with her, Grim?”

I shifted uncomfortably, surprised by her directness. “Love? I don’t know about that.”

Isabelle let out a soft sigh, a tired sound. “Follow your heart, Grim.”

“I don’t have a heart, Isabelle. You know that.”

“Not that heart,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes, a flicker of her old spirit returning. “You know, Grim, for a monster of such power and wisdom, you are incredibly obtuse sometimes. You don’t need actual organs to love someone.”

Her words caught me off guard. Was it really that simple? Could I, a creature of darkness and shadows, experience love after all these decades? I pushed the thought away, uncomfortable with its implications.

“Grim,” Isabelle’s voice was weaker now, a threadbare whisper against the hum of the machines. “When it’s my time… will you be the one?”

I met her gaze. “You want me here?”

---