Page 31 of Grim
“I am your reaper.”
“Reaper?” I ask, stomping past him toward the dining room.
“Yes,” he answers condescendingly. “And you and I are going to become really close.”
“Until I die again in nine days,” I say bitterly.
“Correct.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We will have plenty of time to get into all of this because, as I thoughtlessly mentioned in our initial meeting, you have nine days left to live. And now, because of my loose lips and some fine print in my job description, until that time comes, you are under my care.”
“I don’t need a ghost guide for my final chapter,” I insist, crossing my arms across my chest petulantly.
“I am not a ghost, Rue.”
“Pale enough to pass for one,” I snipe, deciding onpetty insults to lessen the anxiety this conversation is causing me.
“My skin hasn’t felt the effects of the sun for centuries. What’s your excuse?” he throws back at me.
“I like to read,” I reply smugly.
“Ever heard of an Adirondack chair?” The way he draws out the syllables ofAdirondackmakes me wish there were one here that I could throw at him. “Anyway,” he continues, “I have a case I have to attend to, and I cannot have you getting into any trouble while I’m away. Any chance you keep a couple of pairs of handcuffs around here?” He eyes me up and down. “Nah, you don’t seem like the type.”
“Hey!” I shout defensively.
“Oh, I do hope I’m wrong,” he purrs, stalking toward me and backing me into a dining room chair.
I fume, “You’re disgusting.”
“You’re not the first to say so. Though most people use slightly more creative adjectives. Now, until I return, you be a good girl and stay. Right. There.”
Oh. Oh. He did not.I feel heat rise in my face—not from fear, but from rage.
“Good girl?” I repeat, my fists clenching.
Slowly, methodically, I look down at my mud-caked shoes. Slipping one off, I cock my arm back and toss it directly at his chest. The shoe flies through his body and knocks a vase off the wall behind him. I hear the sound of shattering glass, which feels fitting, as the last thread of my sanity breaks along with it. His eyes travel from his chest directly to my eyes, and if looks could kill, I would be dead for the second time in as many hours.
“Don’t have a praise kink either then, I take it?” He chuckles darkly.
“You are insufferable! Get out of my life!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mayday. We all answer to Fate. We all ring Time’s brass bell. And the tune she’s playing right now is a duet. Best to work on your harmonies rather than trying to rearrange the sheet music. Know what I mean?”
“Do you hear yourself? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. “Nevermind. I have a work matter I need to attend to. And I need you to sit tight until I return. Can you do that?”
My racing mind begins to slow. As impossible as everything he’s told me over the past few minutes is, as unbelievable as the past hour of my—apparently—dwindling life has been, a sliver of acceptance begins to slice its way into me. I look up at the apparition in front of me. He appears as solid and as real as anything else in this room. His sharp and polished sense of style actually fits in quite nicely around all the ornate furnishings of this home.
I take the first steadying breath I’ve had in what feels like ages. I lock eyes with him and answer his question calmly, “No.”
“No? Give me a break. I won’t be gone long, and we can have a nice chat about whatever you want to know when I return.”
“I’m serious! I’m not spending the rest of my life watching the clock tick down while you lurk in corners like some brooding corpse concierge.”
“What do you propose then? A spa day? A wine tasting?”
