Page 22 of The Reluctant Reaper
“You’re the one who butchered her sisters back in the day,” she retorted, already heading for the door. “But sure. Moving out when I was eighteen was somehow worse.”
“Amara!”
Go. Put your hand on the knob and go-go-go.
“I—I’m sorry. I just...” Her father gestured helplessly at himself, the Kleenex boxes, the room’s general disarray.
Doesn’t matter. Go-go-go!Her arm was suddenly too slow and too long. The doorknob was about a mile away.Streeeetch! You’re almost there.
“I don’t know what to do,” he whined. “Neither does your mother. Please don’t go. I—I’m thankful you came home. We both are.”
Dammit! So close to a clean getaway.
She turned back with a sigh. Smelling victory, Death was heaving himself up to a sitting position. “I am. And I apologize again. Being overwhelmed is no excuse to belittle my last child. Any child,” he admitted.
Argh, don’t let him off the hook, don’t let him off the hook, don’t...
“Okay. That’s... I understand. You’re having a difficult week. I accept your apology.”
Dammit!
“But Dad, in all seriousness: What do you expect me to do? Fluff your pillows and ply you with orange juice while you don’t die? Because, obviously, you’re not dying.”
Silence.
Her desperation was a palpable weight, pressing the air from her lungs. “Death can’t die,” she whispered.
“No, but Death’s avatar can.” He blew his nose and looked even more woebegone than before. “And I am. And so the time has come.”
“No.”
“At long last.”
“Nope.”
“The passing of the torch—or scythe, if you prefer.”
“You hear the noises coming out of my face-hole, right? The way I keep saying no, no, a zillion times no? And shaking my head like I’m trying to dislodge a tick? Dad? Are you listening?”Dumb question. He never listens.
“Don’t worry.” He coughed again, wiped his mouth with a Kleenex that came away bloody. “You’re a natural. I’ve known that since you were six.”
“No.Nyet. Non. Nie. Não.”
“If not you, then who?” he asked, and she had no answer.
ChapterEleven
She left the Reaper and bypassed the Valkyrie on her way out.
Well. That had been the plan. But her mother was on her almost before the bedroom door closed.
“He’s better, don’t you think?”
“What are you basing that on, Mom? Better compared to what?”
“I knew your coming would help.”
“He looks ghastly compared to the last time I saw him. I don’t know what he looked like last week or last month. My baseline’s way out of date.”
