Page 63 of Grim
“Fate.” Time’s voice is softer, but there’s an edge to it. A warning.
“Don’t,” Kane growls, stepping closer to me—between me and Fate. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Didn’t you?” Fate’s smile is lethal.
“Enough.” Time’s tone cuts through the tension like a knife. “We’re not here to litigate Kane’s actions.” She turns her gaze toward the wreckage. “We have a job to do.”
Fate does not heed her sister’s recrimination though.Her gaze remains fixed on me. “I should cut your thread right here.” Her voice is tight, taut with anger. “She altered the tapestry.Myvision,” Fate roars to all who can hear.
“She didn’t do it.” Kane’s grip on my hand tightens. “I did.”
“She doesn’t belong,” Fate snarls.
I can’t breathe. Is Fate doing that, or am I just nearing my physical breaking point?
“Enough.” Kane’s voice is lethal.
His body tenses beside me, and for a moment, I swear the air crackles.
“You may weave the tapestry, but you still need the threads. You cannot sculpt without a chisel, nor can you paint without a brush.” Kane’s voice rises with commanding authority on each line. He glares at her hovering form. “You still need me, Fate. The higher-ups still need the reapers. Is this a war you’re willing to start?”
There is a long silence before Fate sighs, relenting.
“You’re right, Kane.” Fate’s lips curl into a cold smile. “I do need you. For my dirty work. So, I suppose I’ll keep you for now. But the thread is fraying,Doctor.And when it snaps …”
Fate glares at Kane for a moment longer before finally shifting her attention to the scene before us.
“Let’s get this over with,” she mutters, her voice like frost on glass. “Time,” she calls affectionately to her sister as they lock eyes and smile mischievously. It’s the closest they’ve looked to twins.
The air ripples like a pebble dropped into a still pond. Time raises her hands, and the world around us seems to slow. The flashing lights, the chaos, the movement—it all becomes muted.
And then the fallen bodies glow. Dozens of them. Men. Women. Children. Writhing and moaning in a sea of fire, blood, and gore, the poor humans glow bright as Fate and Time move through the scene like snakes through sand. Their ethereal forms bend and twist around the mass of agony. I can see the power and pressure that Fate’s form elicits from the bodies as Time begins to sing the sweetest, most haunting melody. Time’s song is overtaken, however, by the souls, now screaming in their mutilatedbodies, begging for help. I grip my chest, my heart beating wildly out of control as a small girl’s voice comes from somewhere in the chaos, screaming for her daddy.
“Shit,” I whisper, my throat thick with emotion.
“Hey. Hey, look at me.” Kane’s voice is soft, but there’s steel beneath it. “Mayday, breathe and stay here. No one can see you while time stands still.”
He releases my hand, and I nearly sob at the loss.
“K-Kane!”
“Rue.” His eyes meet mine, and for once, there’s no sarcasm. No teasing. Just earnestness. “Please, let me do this. Don’t acknowledge the souls. Just soften your focus. This will all be over soon, and then I will get you home.”
I nod, swallowing hard as I step back.
Many of the spirits begin to separate from the bodies, their essences hovering in much the way the old woman did on Kane’s previous reap. It’s simple and haunting and oddly beautiful. But others do not seem to be bending to the pressure of Fate’s swirling energy and Time’s lyrical tune.
Their bodies convulse, and the sounds that pour forth are not of this world.
“What’s happening to them?”
When Kane answers, I realize I asked the question aloud. “They are hesitant. They don’t want to cross over. Sometimes, souls don’t want to let go. Or they don’t know how. Fear. Regret. Love. It anchors them here.”
“Can’t we help them?” I ask desperately.
Asher chimes in, having made his way back to us as Fate and Time perform their opening act, “Some souls may choose to wander, but that option is not on the table for those whose earthly stories end in catastrophe. All of those must be reaped and rent from their mortal casings and crossed over. No alternatives. No exceptions.”
“And if they don’t go willingly?”
