Page 4 of The Grim, Me, and The Reaper Makes Three

“Are you wearing a turtleneck?” The dog-man had made himself at home in a large leather chair beside a low, round table that was scattered with a collection of brochures. His entire face transformed as a fond smile curved his mouth. “I like it.”

The cloak-man hung up his cloak on a conveniently located coat rack, and then carefully leaned the – oh shit, it was ascythe– beside it. It was so ridiculously mundane a movement, like it was just another day of being the Reaper coming home after along day of – what? Escorting dead people? Killing people? She still wasn’t clear on the semantics.

“It was chilly earlier,” the cloak-man muttered, his sharp cheekbones flushing pink.

The dog-man let out a laugh that was brighter than Tati had expected from someone with such a deep voice. “Atti, we both know you are not bothered by the weather.”

Tati couldn’t contain herself. “Atti?”

The previously-cloaked man shot a glare at the dog-man before looking back at Tati. “Atticus. It is my given name.”

“Wait. So you were a person? Before you became whatever you are now?”

Atticus nodded, his face carefully blank. “Yes. We both were. But we have been serving as the Grim Reaper for a little over a century now.”

Tati turned to the dog-man. “So who are you?”

“William,” the dog-man said, offering a grin.

“And the dog thing?”

William’s loud laugh sounded suspiciously canine. “Hear that, Atti? She calls it ‘the dog thing.’” When the other man only rolled his eyes, William turned back to Tatiana. “When Atticus stepped into his role as The Reaper, I was not yet ready to give up his company. Those in charge were not fond of the idea of an uneducated luddite hanging around with their golden boy of death, so it was either become a shape-shifting sidekick or not see him for a hundred years.”

“This is so fucking weird.” Tati looked between the two men and then around the room. “So you guys, what? Go and retrieve dead people?”

“Typically no,” Atticus responded. “There are thousands of employees who take care of the fetching. Tonight our staff was a bit depleted due to a bout of seasonal PDM, so, well, the two of us were called out of the office.”

Tati frowned. “PDM?”

“Post death melancholy,” Atticus said, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

Tati didn’t even try to hide her amused snort. She waited for the two men to smile, to laugh at what was obviously a joke.

It was obviously a joke…right?

But their expressions remained serious, so she carefully schooled her expression and went back to trying to piece together all of the new information that was coming her way. “You said you normally work in an office?”

“We work in the Central Office, where we manage the Earth to Afterworld pipeline, oversee particularly complex cases, intervene in the case of controversy, and conduct employee and staff reviews.” William rattled off the list like something he’d memorized during training.

“So you’re dead people managers, is what you’re saying,” Tati said, a hysterical laugh bursting from her lips. “I’m sorry, this is just…I saw my dead body, but I still don’t know how I died, and now I’m here and fuck, I’m dead.” She shook her head. “How can I be dead?”

“Check the memo,” Atticus said to William.

William shifted his weight in his seat as he reached into one of his pockets and drew out a crumpled piece of paper. “Here we are. Tatiana Nowak. Female. Thirty years old. Libra. Single. No pets.”

“Seriously?” She braced her hands on her wide hips. “Why does that matter?”

Atticus drummed his fingers on the surface of the dark wooden desk that stood in one corner. “We make arrangements if there are pets.”

Tati’s brows shot up. “Arrangements? Wait, do you work with humans? I have so many questions.”

“Do you want to know how you died or not?” Atticus leveled an impatient look at her.

Tati nodded.

“It would appear that you were hit by a vehicle,” William said.

Tati stood there, blinking. Hit by a fucking car while wearing a slutty Tinker Bell costume. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and choked out a laugh. “God, what a silly way to die,” she murmured. “And I spentsomuch time on this costume.”

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