Page 3 of The Reluctant Reaper
“Mmmm.” She did have to, but not for the reason Gray assumed. The full-time employee brought her baby to the no-kill pet shelter, which is when Amara realized the infant would be dead before the leaves started to turn. She hadn’t wanted to be in the room with either of them after that.
Gray must have seen something on her face, because he leaned back to scrutinize her expression and put down his drink. “Listen, Mar, your deal is your deal...”
“Don’t get philosophical on me, you doof.”
“And maybe this is a dumb question...”
“I’m confident it will be.”
“But have you tried warning them?”
“It’s not just a dumb question, it’s one you’ve asked before. I’ll tell you now what I told you then: It. Doesn’t. Work.” So she had learned, in the most brutal manner after too many attempts to get in fate’s face. “When it’s your day, it’s your day. And no man knoweth the hour. Shouldn’t, anyway.”
“What?”
“‘Take ye heed, watch and pray: for ye know not when the time is.’” Fine advice which few could be bothered to heed. Not that she was a Bible pusher. Or any sort of pusher. But given that every religion featured her father, she’d made a point of reading all sorts of religious texts: the Bible, the Tipitaka, the Quran, the Torah. And once she’d met Persephone, Greek mythology.
Which was... stupid, really. Why study for a job you’ll never have?
She rejoined the chat. “Are you rethinking our agreement?” Early in their friendship, he’d made her swear never to tell him the time and manner of his inevitable demise.
“Good God,no.” Gray downed half his virgin mojito in one gulp, then clutched his head and regretted everything as he waited for the brain freeze to pass. “Don’t you dare spoil the surprise!”
“Your death will definitely be a surprise,” she muttered into her glass.
“It will? Why—wait. What? No! Don’t say anything—okay, a good surprise or a bad surprise? Dumb question, obviously a good surprise... do I drown in a vat of DQ ice cream? Don’t answer that!”
“Calm down.” Time for a subject change. “Drink your drink, honey.”
“Honey! You only call me that when you’re trying to calm me down or asking if I wish to acquire honey. It just... it sounds like it’s soon. Is it soon? Don’t answer that! Is it now? Ten seconds from now? Or ten years? Don’t answer! But you can tell me when Elon Musk’s gonna bite the big one. Make my decade and tell me it’s this week.”
She chuckled. “No idea. That’s not how it works.”
“Okay, how ’bout our waiter?”
“February 2065. Complications from pneumonia.”
“Jeez,” Gray muttered, then couldn’t look at the waiter when he came back with fresh drinks. “Well, he’s gonna live to be a geezer, so that’s something. But how can you stand it?” he whispered. It was unnecessary; they were surrounded by the noisy lunch rush. But some things, Amara knew,shouldbe spoken of in low tones.
“You already asked me that, too.” She didn’t mind. Friends who knew about her family’s, um, long record of service but stuck around anyway were rare. To be honest, she only had one. The trick was finding a chum who didn’t give a shit about dying. Who might even be inclined to speed things up if they thought Death was being a slowpoke. And then rescue them, even if they didn’t want to be rescued.
And keep them safe, as best you can.
“God, that must be...” Gray was still staring after the waiter. “How can you even think about it?”
“I don’t,” she replied. She clinked her glass with his and took a healthy gulp, filtering the ice out with her teeth to avoid Gray’s mistake. “At all. When I have a choice.”
ChapterThree
Amara woke up in one of her favorite places: Gray’s office.
His home office, to be exact. After dinner they’d come to his quadruplex, an old Victorian the owner had split into four apartments; the top floor was Gray’s. Except the apartment directly below was nearly always empty, so most of the time Gray essentially had the run of half a mansion.
It didn’t hurt that Amara had figured out where the owner’s late wife had spitefully hidden their combined assets before succumbing to renal cancer. “No prenup,” the owner said ruefully. “That was my mistake. That and overlooking her documented history of fraud. She was gonna take it all and leave me with my dick in my hand, but she got sick... so when d’you want your friend to be able to move in?”
The sofa bed in Gray’s office was, shockingly, comfortable, thanks to the two feather mattresses plopped on top and no fewer than three comforters. She sat up and yawned, blinking at Gray’s back.
“Morning,” he said without turning around, already at his desk though it was only... shit! Ten thirty! She heard the click as he stopped the recorder with his foot, typed something, then hit the play button again. “Gotta finish this transcript by noon. Eat something.”
