Page 79 of The Reluctant Reaper
“What?”
“Pop culture reference. One of Gray’s favorite movies.”
“He’s nice.”
“He’s wonderful. And stillhere, can you believe it? I’m not sure I do. I haven’t ruled him out as a hallucination. Like that movieThe Tale of Two Sisterswhere—spoiler!—the youngest sister was dead the whole time. You would tell me if Graham Gray was a hallucination, right?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. One less thing to worry about. Now switch to pastels and give real thought to tap shoes.”
“No.”
“Have it your way. Listen, it was terrifying running into you, and I’m glad we caught up, but I’ve got miles to go before I sleep or have a nervous breakdown or however the cliché goes.”
“Bye.”
* * *
Gray heard the staccato rapping at the bedroom door and put asideThe Invincible Red Sonja#1 to answer. He opened the door and beheld a sight that would buckle the knees of ordinary men: Amara in her sleep outfit of mauve velour pants, black thermal top so old and well-washed it was nearly transparent, and fuzzy green socks.
She smiled. “My turn to demand an impromptu sleepover, don’t you think?”
He laughed and swung the door wide.
ChapterForty-One
“In my professional opinion, Death is fucked.”
So pronounced Paeon, god of godly medicine and skeet-shooting enthusiast.
He’d bustled in, fended off Hilly’s culinary offerings, and made the proverbial beeline for his patient.
“Not helpful,” Amara said. “And your bedside manner remains awful.”
“Beggars and choosers, Amara. It’s nice to see you. I appreciate the call.” Paeon was short, about five foot six, with blond curly hair and an immaculate gray suit. His monochromic wardrobe coupled with the wild frizz of his curls made him look like a dapper dandelion. “But it’s also quite frightening. If you’re here, it must be bad indeed.”
“No offense, Paeon?—”
“You often say that as a precursor to something really very offensive.”
“Ha!” from Gray. “He knows you, Amara.”
“—but I could have made that diagnosis.”
“And yet, here am I.”
“Mmmm. Did Team Scheme fill you in on what’s happening?”
“Just now.” Paeon gave Hilly some side-eye, but forbore to comment further. “Death wanted to trick his last living child into embracing her birthright.”
“Nutshell,” Gray said.
“And how areyoufeeling, young man?”
“A little hungry,” Gray admitted.
“Cripes, half an hour ago you devoured a stack of waffles so high I couldn’t see your face,” Amara cried. “Forehead-high waffles, Gray!”
