Page 25 of Grim
No, it’s far worse. It’s patient.
“I didn’t realize it would cause any harm,” I offer in a weak protest. “My old medical instincts kicked in.”
“And those instincts,” Time hums, swaying like smoke in a storm, “have spoiled my fun.” She tilts her head, one long finger trailing lazily along the line of my shoulder. “Now I need to find new fun. Can I havefunwith you, Kane?” Her voice twists the wordfuninto something more dangerous than flirty.
“I’m not much fun,” I mutter. “Ask anyone.”
“Ripping you limb from limb and using your extremities as a stopwatch sounds … delicious.” She inches closer, her pupils ticking like clock gears as she scans me top to toe. “I think I could use your body to keep time down to the”—she pauses and rakes her eyes down my body, then darts her gaze sharply back to mine—“microsecond.”
I shudder, my stomach turning involuntarily at the mere thought of that particular pain.
I clear my throat, angling toward the only thing that might change the subject. “Why did you jump her crossover date anyway, Time? Her chart was clear. ARVD.Slow decline. Nine days from now. Why accelerate what is almost done already?”
Fate—draped in her ink-drenched robes and pinched fury—speaks up before her sister can. Her voice is like fire through silk. “Because my insufferable sister enjoys meddling in the storylines she is not supposed to read and most certainly not supposed to write.”
“Oh, shut up, little one.” Time emphasizes the wordlittlewith extreme derision.
The bickering commences immediately.
“You’re older than me by one minute,” Fate snaps, her eyes flashing silver. “One. That’s nothing.”
“Well, in this case, baby twin, it’s everything,” Time singsongs while twirling a strand of her blonde braid. “One minute in the universe longer. A lifetime of lording my wisdom and experience over you. A lot can change in a minute, can’t it, Kane?” she says hypnotically, her eyes fixed on me.
I can feel her taking over my mind, forcing memories I long buried to the surface. The pain of regret and remembrance pinches my head like a vise.
My brother’s betrayal. My wife’s screams. Her blood on my hands. My scalpel against my throat.
I stagger, clutching my temples. “Stop that!” I scream, but her attention is drawn to her taunting sister.
“Yet all you have to show for it is the ability to keep a calendar,” Fate sneers. “I, on the other hand, weave the tales,” she continues, glowing with righteous fury. “You know what it takes to write a mortal life from birth to breathless end?”
Time shrugs. “Not when I choose to intervene. Nothing like a little plot twist to spice up a story.”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to mess with my weavings? They are perfect.”
“Perfect is boring; spontaneity is fun. Deal with it.”
“So, you altered this mortal’s timeline, took days away from her physical life—those precious moments we can never appreciate until they’re gone—to piss off your sister?” My voice rises to a high pitch at the incredulity of their pettiness.
“That’s cruel,” I conclude, and Big D sucks air in between his teeth.
“You must be an only child,” Time deadpans.
Fate’s eyes spark, and she hovers closer to me, quickly coming to her sister’s defense. “What is cruel, soul snatcher, is that you, in your infinite stupidity, managed to reveal her official crossover date. Now she’s a mortal who knows the unknowable, and that makes her unpredictable, Kane. Her concept of free will has shattered. Now she feels like she has nothing to lose.”
“And people with nothing to lose,” Time chimes in.
“Are dangerous, Kane,” Fate finishes.
“Very dangerous.” Time punctuates her sister’s sentiment.
Fate continues, “You’ve told the girl her fate. And you know what people do when they know their ending, Kane?”
Fate stops speaking, and silence fills the cavernous office.
Big D fills in with a long, “Ooh. He thought it was a rhetorical question.” He lets out a low whistle as he leans back, eyes glittering.
I clench my jaw. “I do not know. I have never done anything like this in all the centuries I have been a reaper.”
