Page 78 of The Reluctant Reaper
Amara blinked. “Okay, first, I’m not snatching Gray anywhere near my bosom. Second, leaving was a bluff. I just wanted to see what everyone would do once they thought I was bugging out. Obviously I’m here for the duration.”
“No.” Hilly threw the repellant washcloth into the sink. “You have to flee, Amara. You must. I will not go down this road again, not for every ounce of gold in the world. Whoever’s trying to steal your father’s job will lose interest in you once you’re gone.”
“How does that follow? Disappearing is no guarantee of safety. No. I’m not fleeing, and no need to point it out; the irony isn’t lost on me. Besides, you have no way of knowing that.” She took her mother’s hands in hers. “I promise not to freeze to death, Mom. The Mustang is loaded with blankets and hand warmers, and in the winter I live in Gore-Tex. But to figure the rest of this mess out, not to mention the agenda of the member of the conclave who went rogue, I need more details of your terrible, terrible plot. I’m guessing it was one of those ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time’ situations.”
Hilly reclaimed her hands and resumed scrubbing with (whew!) a new cloth. “Actually, one of those ‘keeping to my oath to obey my husband in all things’ situations.”
“So it was Dad’s idea.”
“Yes.”
Amara drummed her fingers on the counter and thought. “But you didn’t try to talk him out of it.”
“I did try.” Scrub-scrub-scrub. Rinse. “For days and nights.” Scrub-scrub. “Which is why he was eventually compelled to remind me of my oath.”
“Oh. Huh. I... hadn’t considered that.”
“The only time he had to do such a thing in three hundred years.”
“Wow. Okay. Lots to ponder here. Still not your fault.”I’m pretty sure. Notentirelyher fault, at the least.“It’s a textbook example of a cockamamie scheme, and you should all feel silly, but something bigger is simultaneously happening.”
“Can it be so, darling? Perhaps Death is simply failing because all things end.”
“Maaaaaybe. And it’s not like he doesn’t deserve a break after all these centuries.”
Her mother summoned a faint smile. “Why, Amara. How empathetic.”
“Yes, yes, it’s been a weekend of growth and change. Dad’s trapped, too, in a job with pretty good health bennies but no retirement plan. And it’s tempting to think maybe it’s just his time. But I don’t like all the accompanying shenanigans. You don’t have anything else to share with the class? No inconvenient details left out?”
“No. On my oath, no.”
“Let’s keep your oath out of it. Look, just...” Amara gave her mother a brisk pat on the shoulder, because she was, at times, exceptionally lame. “Keep your chin up. Or whatever. It ain’t over until it’s et cetera. Fear not, your youngest and most screwed-up child is on the case.”
Hilly smacked her with the washcloth, which was fine. Anything was better than tearful breast-beating and a wooden spoon across the knuckles.
ChapterForty
“Sorry.”
Amara’s heart stopped, thought it over, then rebooted. Hard. “Jesus Christ, Chernobog!”
“Not my full name.”
Amara had been tower-bound; now she leaned against the fence to wait for her heart to fully commit to getting back to work.
“If you won’t wear a bell, at least consider tap shoes. While I’m recovering from the heart attack, let’s chat. Why’d you go along with Team Scheme?”
“They asked.”
She groaned and got ready to yell, or at least whine. Then she took another look at him and reconsidered. “They didn’t freak out around you or make jokes about how scary you seem. They just politely asked you to help them. And you said yes, because you’re the living embodiment of the ‘dark is not evil’ trope.”
“They were nice.”
Amara nodded. “I get it, I think. Dumb plan, dumb reason, but... okay.”
“I try not to be,” he said earnestly. “But. I’m frightening anyway.”
“You’re like Jessica Rabbit. You’re not scary, you were just drawn that way.”
