Page 38 of Guarded By the Reaper

“Do you truly love this woman?” they asked.

The question caught me off guard, though it shouldn’t have. Death saw all, knew all. Of course they could easily see the depth of my feelings for Millie.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. It was the simplest truth I’d ever spoken, a truth that had become as much a part of me as the darkness that held my body together.

Death’s form rippled. “Are you aware that the deal she made cannot be undone? Ma-Vasha is a very powerful creature, and the agreement was fair.”

“I know, but I can’t let her die.”

“Why? Because you love her?”

“Not just that,” I admitted, thinking of all the reasons Millie had come to mean so much to me. I thought of her kindness, her strength, the way she faced impossible choices with a quiet grace that humbled me. “She’s the best person I’ve ever known. And I’ve met quite a few people in my time.”

A long silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the faint ticking of countless invisible clocks – a steady, ever-present reminder that even here, in Death’s domain, time marched on relentlessly.

Finally, the Breathless spoke again. “There is a solution.”

I leaned forward, eager to hear more. Anything, any glimmer of hope, was better than the overwhelming despair I felt at the thought of Millie’s inevitable demise.

“The third gift you were offered when you became a reaper,” Death said. “You can use it to save her.”

It felt like yesterday and, at the same time, like a lifetime ago – the day I became what I was now. There I was, Ansel Sullivan, lying in a ditch, my body ravaged by the lingering effects of mustard gas and the harsh reality of post-war life. Death appeared, not as the skeleton I’d imagined, but as a shifting, ethereal presence. They offered me a contract – an eternity of reaping in exchange for three gifts. The first gift was the scythe, which I would use to sever the delicate threads of life. The second, my cloak, a shroud of concealment that held my broken body together and shielded the living from the horror of my true form. And the third gift…

The Breathless gave me a new thread of life, a shimmering strand they called the thread of eternity. It replaced my severed life thread, knotting tightly around my breastbone. I’d never given it much thought before – just another part of the package deal that came with my new existence.

“You’re the only one who can cut it,” Death said.

Apparently, my thread of eternity existed outside the jurisdiction of the Fates, the sisters who spun, measured, and cut the threads of mortal lives. It was a loophole in the cosmic tapestry, a thread that only its owner could sever.

“A soul for a soul,” I said. “An eternity for a life.”

Death nodded, their form rippling like smoke in a breeze. “It’s a high price to pay, especially when you’ve already paid enough for things you didn’t do, Ansel. But yes, if you want to save this woman, this is the only solution I know of. A deal was made, and Ma-Vasha must be paid one way or another.”

I bowed slightly, unable to form words. My feet carried me out of the office on autopilot, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The enormity of the choice before me was staggering.

As I walked through the Halls of Death, searching for Millie, I tried to process what I’d just learned. If there was no other way to save her, I’d do it. No question. But the thought of telling her... No. I couldn’t. She’d never allow it, and I couldn’t bear to see the guilt in her eyes.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. Here I was, a being who had spent a century ushering souls into the afterlife, now contemplating giving up my eternal existence for a woman I’d known for mere days. If someone told me this would happen when I first took this job, I would’ve laughed in their face.

But Millie was worth it. I’d never met anyone like her. She brought light into my world of shadows, made me feel things I thought I’d long forgotten. As I searched for her, my mind raced through memories of our short time together. The way her blue eyes lit up when she smiled, how she stood up to anyone who threatened her loved ones, the gentleness in her touch when she cared for Lady Mews. Each moment we’d shared had chipped away at the cynicism I’d built up over decades of seeing humanity at its worst. Now, faced with the prospect of losing her, I realized just how much she meant to me. It wasn’t just love and lust. It was the way she made me want to be better, to believe that there was still good in the world worth fighting for.

The thought of her dying, of Ma-Vasha consuming her soul, was unbearable. I’d seen countless souls pass on, but the idea of Millie’s vibrant spirit being snuffed out... It made me feel hollow in a way I hadn’t experienced since I was human. But could I really do it? Give up my existence, my purpose, everything I’d known for the past century? The selfish part of me whispered doubts. What if she didn’t feel the same way? What if I made thissacrifice, and she moved on, finding happiness with someone else?

I shook my head, banishing these thoughts. It didn’t matter. Even if Millie ended up with someone else, at least she’d be alive. She’d be there for Elysia, watch her grow up, live the life she deserved.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Millie

As soon as I stepped out of Death’s office, the world tilted on its axis. The hallway seemed to stretch and contract, the walls rippling like water. My stomach churned, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back a wave of nausea. I needed a bathroom, desperately. Somewhere to splash cold water on my face and maybe lose my lunch in private. But as I stumbled down the endless corridor, every door I passed looked too ornate to be a simple restroom. They were works of art, each one unique and breathtaking. Under different circumstances, I might have stopped to admire them.

My head spun, and I leaned against the wall for support. The surface beneath my palm shifted, feeling like cool marble one second, and rough wood the next. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady myself. When I opened them again, a door directly across from me caught my eye. It was simpler than the others, almost plain in comparison. Without thinking, I lurched towards it and fumbled with the handle. I practically fell into the room, grateful to find the space slightly more stable than the hallway. It wasn’t a bathroom, but at least the floor stayed put under my feet.

As my vision cleared, I realized I was surrounded by shelves. They lined every wall from floor to ceiling, each one filled with small bottles. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. I blinked, wondering if I was hallucinating.

I stepped closer to examine one. It was made of clear glass, no bigger than my palm. Inside, I could see a tightly rolled piece of paper. A message? My curiosity got the better of me, and I reached out to pick up the bottle. As my fingers brushed against the cool glass, a shiver ran down my spine. These weren’t just random notes. They felt important. Like each one held a secretor a story. I turned the bottle over in my hands, marveling at how the paper inside seemed to glow faintly. What were these messages? Who were they for? My mind raced with possibilities.

The room was eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the soft clink of glass as I set the bottle back in its place. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. The nausea had passed somewhat.

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