Page 151 of Grim
“It’s a preemptive strike.”
“Has anything strange been going on recently? Anybody messing with anything? Maybe showing a little more grace or compassion than usual?”
My silence hides nothing. Mercy has always been able to read behind my eyes and directly into my soul, the damnable vixen.
“I knew it,” she exclaims.
“It’s nothing. She’s no one.”
“She?”
“Rue,” I say on a sigh, knowing there’s no way to hide any of this from Mercy.
“Go on,” Mercy coaxes, rising on the balls of her feet in anticipation.
“She’s sort of been inadvertently locating lost souls and reopening their portals. We have had a series of crosses from dead cases.”
Mercy speaks slowly and reverentially. “We have been waiting for this. Her energy must have created a spark, allowed me to navigate out of banishment from the strength of her light.” Then another thought hits her, and she finishes sadistically, “I’ll bet my sisters are super pissed!”
“They are. There’s a reaper involved too. It’s messy, Merc. Very messy.”
She takes a sauntering stride toward me, and the sway of her hips hypnotizes. “And you’re just the boy to clean things up.”
“No. I’m not getting involved. And when your sisters find out that you’ve come back from the darkness, there is going to be no stopping the mayhem.”
“And that’s why they won’t find out.”
“Not from me they won’t.”
“You let me worry about staying out of sight. I need you to do something for me.”
“Depends on what it is. VIP seats to next year’s Send-Off? Done. You want—”
“Don’t get smart with me, D. I may show mercy, but even my patience wears thin.”
“I am the one who decides when mercy is shown now,pet.” The way the term of endearment makes her shoulders stiffen paints a grin across my face. “However,it happened; I’m in charge now. And with great power comes a great ME. So, speak your mind, but don’t forget who’s making the rules here.”
“Careful, D,” she warns. “You’re starting to sound like your father.”
“And you’re starting to piss me off.”
“We had plans.” Her tone shifts, soft and inviting. “AfterLife Processing doesn’t need efficiency. It needs compassion. You wanted to change things. You wanted to be different.”
“I’m not helping that mortal mess up the system that we have fine-tuned so precisely. Adding complexities and nuance to something best served with blunt force trauma.” I speak with finality, but the ensuing back-and-forth only escalates in pitch and intensity.
“You will, D.”
“Why?”
“Because the greater good demands it. The needs of the many outweigh the wants of the few.”
“Your utilitarianism smacks of naivety now, Mercy. The world is harsher than that. Putting the self before the herd just makes sense.”
“And your objectivism is disheartening and nauseating. This isn’t you, D.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t know me.”
“I did. I do. I know the real you.” Her gaze penetrates, more invasive than a polygraph. “Besides,” she coos, “you owe me.”
