Page 41 of Guarded By the Reaper

Millie nodded. “Together.”

Half an hour later, I was leaning against the dining room doorframe, watching Millie and Elysia at the dinner table. Theirlaughter filled the room. Elysia was animatedly recounting her cooking adventure, complete with dramatic hand gestures that nearly knocked over her glass of milk.

“And then the spaghetti went splat!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Right on the ceiling!”

Millie chuckled, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Well, that explains the new pasta-based ceiling decor.”

I couldn’t help but smile. These little moments, so ordinary yet so precious, were what made life worth living. I wanted to bottle them up, preserve them forever in my memory. After a century of dealing with death and darkness, this slice of normalcy felt like a breath of fresh air. As I watched them, my non-existent stomach twisted with guilt. Millie felt bad for lying to her daughter all the time, and I was lying to her now by omission, not telling her there was a way out of this mess. I remembered the look on her face when she lied to Elysia about seeing Lady Mews today. The pain in her eyes, the weight of that small deception. How could I burden her with more?

My thoughts drifted to Norman, that sorry excuse for a human being. I’d judged him harshly for abandoning his wife when she needed him most. But now, keeping this vital information from Millie… Was I any better? It was a sobering thought. For all my decades of existence, for all the wisdom I’d supposedly gained, I was still making very human mistakes. I was still lying, still hurting the people I cared about, all in the name of protection.

Maybe that was the real curse of immortality. Not the endless march of time or the weight of memories, but the fact that no matter how long you lived, you never really outgrew your humanity. You never stopped making the same old mistakes.

I watched as Millie reached across the table to wipe a smudge of sauce from Elysia’s cheek. Who was I to judge Norman, or anyone else for that matter? We were all just fumbling throughlife, some of us through eternity, trying our best to protect the ones we loved.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Millie

The next morning, Elysia’s mood took a nosedive. Her usual cheerful demeanor vanished, replaced by a sullen pout and teary eyes. No matter what I said or did, she remained fixated on one thing: seeing Lady Mews. I tried everything – distractions, bribes, even a bit of gentle scolding – but nothing worked. She was determined to visit her cat, and my arguments fell flat. As the morning wore on, I felt my resolve weakening. Elysia’s pleas became more insistent. I hated seeing her so upset.

Eventually, I knew I had to talk to Grim. I found him in the library, a place I’d been avoiding since my parents’ death. As I stepped inside, the familiar scent of old books and polished wood hit me like a wave. The room was quintessentially Tudor, with dark oak paneling lining the walls, and a massive stone fireplace dominating one end. Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with everything from classic tomes to modern bestsellers. My father had loved this room. I could almost see him sitting in his favorite armchair by the window, glasses perched on his nose as he pored over some dusty volume. The memory made my chest tighten.

Grim was standing by one of the tall windows. He turned as I entered.

“Grim, I need your help.”

He moved towards me, his cloak rippling like smoke. “What’s wrong?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s Elysia. She’s desperate to see Lady Mews. I’ve tried everything, but she won’t let it go. I think I need to take her to the pet hospital.”

Grim was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded slowly. “I understand. It can’t be easy, keeping her cooped up like this.”

“It’s not,” I admitted. “And I hate lying to her. But Grim, if we go out... those things, the Poppets...”

“Hey, I promised to protect you, remember? Both of you. I won’t let a single Poppet get anywhere near you or Elysia.”

I let out a sigh and nodded. I didn’t like this, but it needed to be done, or Elysia would truly start to hate me.

“All right, then. I guess we’re going on a field trip.”

As we left the library, I cast one last glance over my shoulder. The room seemed to whisper with memories, both painful and sweet. I made a silent promise to myself to spend more time here when this was all over. If it ever was.

The drive to the pet hospital was tense, with Elysia bouncing in her seat and me gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. Every few seconds, I found myself glancing in the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see a horde of Poppets chasing us down. But the road behind us remained clear, thanks in no small part to Grim’s presence in the passenger seat.

When we arrived, my sister practically flew out of the car to see Lady Mews. I watched her dash towards the entrance, and a mix of emotions swirled in my chest – relief at seeing her so energetic, worry about potential dangers lurking nearby.

Inside, I hung back as Elysia approached Lady Mews’ cage. The moment her eyes landed on her tortie cat, they lit up like a Christmas tree. It was a transformation so pure and joyful that I felt my own spirits lift. Lady Mews was looking much better, her leg almost fully healed. She purred loudly as Elysia reached in to scratch behind her ears. As Elysia played with her, cooing and petting, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. The constant worry and guilt I’d been carrying around eased just a fraction. Watching my sister – my daughter – so happy and carefree, even if just for a moment, made me realize it was worth the risk to come here. But as the minutes ticked by, the anxiety began tocreep back in. My eyes darted to the windows, scanning for any sign of the grotesque clay creatures. The cheerful chatter of other pet owners and the smell of antiseptic suddenly felt oppressive. I needed air.

“Elysia,” I called softly. “I’m going to step outside for a minute. Will you be okay here with the vet tech?”

She barely looked up from Lady Mews, giving me a distracted nod.

Stepping outside, I took a deep breath. The parking lot was quiet, with only a few cars scattered about. My eyes found Grim, standing guard near the entrance, like a macabre statue. The people walking in and out of the hospital did a double take when they saw him, but soon relaxed. He was a monster in a world where humans and monsters lived together without conflict. Yes, he was an unsettling vision, but no more than, say, an orc or a golem, or a creature made entirely of dark smoke – yes, there were a few of those walking among us.

As I approached him, my hand went to my purse. I remembered the prophecy I’d forgotten to tell him about last night, and my fingers closed around the small bottle. I took it out.

“Grim,” I said, holding out the bottle. “I forgot to tell you about this last night. It’s... well, I’m not sure what it is, exactly.”

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