Page 6 of Guarded By the Reaper

And yet, there was a certain melancholic beauty to it, like a faded photograph from a bygone era. A time when humans still believed they were masters of their own destiny.

We entered through a set of massive oak doors, each one easily twice my size, and stepped into a grand foyer that made the MSA office look like a broom closet. A crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting shimmering rainbows across the polished marble floors. A sweeping staircase led to a balcony lined with portraits of stern-faced men and women who looked like they hadn’t cracked a smile in centuries. My kind of crowd.

I stalked across the foyer, my boots echoing against the marble, my senses on high alert. The air was thick with the scent of old money and even older magic. The kind of magic that whispered in the shadows, the kind that had teeth. This was where Millie had summoned Ma-Vasha. Such madness to bring that soul-eating beast into your home.

I ran a bony hand along the smooth surface of a nearby table. It was covered in a white linen cloth that practically screamed “don’t touch me, peasant!”

Millie was watching me, her brow furrowed. “Don’t mind him,” she said to no one in particular. Or so I thought. “He’s just... adjusting.”

“Adjusting?” The word felt strange in my mouth. An understatement, really.

My gaze swept over the obscene wealth surrounding me. A lifetime ago, I would’ve killed for just a fraction of this opulence. A roof over my head that didn’t leak when it rained. Walls that kept out the cold. A fire that didn’t come from a burning trash can in some godforsaken alley. Instead, I ended up as mangled flesh in a ditch. Then Death showed up and offered me a chance that sounded better than anything I’d been given in my mortal life – to reap for them. An eternity to experience this world from a different angle.

My bitter thoughts were interrupted by a blur of movement that caught my eye, and then I was face-to-face with...

A child.

She couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, with short hair that was just growing back after having been shaved, her eyes wide and curious as she stared up at me. She was the image of Millie, just a miniature version, and the sight of her sent a strange pang through my hollow chest.

“Millie!” she shrieked, hiding behind her sister.

In that moment, I realized something. This child – this innocent creature – was the reason for all of this. The reason Millie Aster had traded her soul. The reason she’d chased me down and begged me to protect her.

Chapter Four

Millie

Elysia came bounding down the stairs. My heart ached with a fierce, overwhelming love for this little human who had no idea of the burden I carried for her. For a second, I forgot all about the Grim Reaper standing in the foyer of my home. I forgot about the deal with the soul-eating creature that haunted my every waking moment. All I saw was Elysia, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining with mischief, her dark hair – so like my own – growing fast.

It was a miracle, really. Ma-Vasha had kept her word. Elysia was healthy. The leukemia that had ravaged her tiny body was gone. Her hair, which had fallen out in clumps and we had to shave, was growing back, soft and thick. She had energy again, the boundless energy of a child who had been given a second chance at life. And even if it had been at the cost of my own soul, seeing her like this was worth it. Every single sacrifice, every sleepless night, every tear I’d cried – all worth it. It had been so long since I’d seen her like this – healthy and full of life. In fact, I hadn’t seen her this energetic since she was a baby.

“Millie!”

Her panicked shriek reminded me that a Grim Reaper was standing right there, and she had no way of knowing he was harmless.

“Is he here for me?” she asked, hiding behind me, looking at Grim with wide eyes. “I’m not ready. Tell him I’m not ready.”

“No!” I turned around and pulled her in my arms. “No, he’s a friend. A guest. He’s not here for you.” She relaxed. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.” But how could I have told her, when I hadn’t known I was going to hire a Grim Reaper to guard us until I was signing the contract?

“Okay,” she said, pulling herself free. “I’m okay.” She took a step towards him and looked up at him.

Grim simply stared at her, not knowing how to react.

“I read about Grim Reapers on the Internet,” she said.

“But why?” I asked.

A shadow crossed her face, and for a moment, she looked older than her years. It was a look I’d seen more and more often in the months since our parents died, a look that spoke of a wisdom no eight-year-old should possess.

“After Mom and Dad…” she began, her voice barely a whisper. “After the accident, I wanted to know if they’d seen one.”

Of course. “You thought they might’ve seen a Grim Reaper?” My voice sounded strange, even to my own ears.

She bit her lip, a nervous habit she’d developed after the diagnosis. “I wanted to know what they saw at the end.” She looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together. “And then, when I got sick again, I wanted to be prepared.” She met my gaze, her eyes filled with a heartbreaking maturity. “So I wouldn’t be scared.”

I couldn’t speak.

“I read that Grim Reapers aren’t scary. They’re just helpers. They make sure people aren’t afraid when it’s their time to go.” She looked up at Grim. “I’m sorry I reacted that way. That was impolite.”

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