Page 85 of The Reluctant Reaper
Amara turned to Hilly with a smile. “Did I pass, Mother?”
“Do you even need to ask me such a thing?” Hilly hugged her. “With flying colors. With every color in the spectrum and a number invisible to the naked eye. I’m so proud of you. And so sad for you. For all that makes no sense.”
Skye: “What?”
“That’s not to say we’re giving up on Dad,” Amara said, ignoring Skye’s pained yelp and wiggling out of the hug to hold her mother at arm’s length. “See my face, Mother. My word on it, we will never give up on Dad. But the goal now is simply to cure him?—”
Paeon snorted. “Simply.”
“—as opposed to the time-urgent emphasis on curing him so he can instantly return to his sworn duties. Which makes your job a bit easier, doesn’t it, Paeon?”
“Well.” The god of godly medicine considered. “Yes.”
“Has everyone in the room lost their minds?” Skye cried. “Amara can’t do it. She herself said so over and over and over. For years!”
“You’re sweet to worry about me. And obviously I can,” Amara replied. “Have been, in fact. It’s not as awful as I imagined. To be fair, a big reason I got through it was because Gray was with me.”
“Awwww! Thanks, babe. Still can’t get that poor teenager out of my head, though.”
“I know. Don’t call me babe. But... it’s my job now. Unless.” Amara gazed around the room. “There are objections? Not that those mean anything. I’m the heir and I’m stepping up; it’s nothing you can vote on. I just want your objections on the record. If there are any.”
“None.” Chernobog.
“Oh, that’s not formeto say,” Arawn said with a not-quite-nice smile. “As you said, this is yours. It was always yours.”
“I mean, congratulations?” Penny said. She lifted her arms as though she would hug Amara, as she had done many times when Amara was a child. But didn’t step closer. And let her arms drop back to her sides. And Hank reacted to her discomfort, and put an arm around his wife, queen of the dead, author of winter.
So it begins, Amara thought, sad and proud and wary at the same time.I’m no longer Hilly’s annoying little girl who could be amused with tickles and candy. You don’t just rush up to Death and give them a hug. You keep your distance. Even when you don’t want to.
“Well done, Amara,” La Croix said. “I would rise and take your hand but I cannot feel my extremities.”
“Jeez, La Choy. Hilly, d’you mind if I... ?” Gray left the hellhoundlets alone long enough to cross the room, fish a quilt out of the open closet, and drape it around La Croix’s shivering shoulders. “Just FYI, it’s at least seventy-five degrees in here and climbing.”
“I cannot believe what I’m hearing!” Skye just about shrieked. “Why are you all standing around simpering at her? This is a disaster!”
“No, Brexit was a disaster.” Gray smirked. “This is just inconvenient.”
“Shutup, you twittering imbecile!”
Amara wasn’t sure who Skye was referring to. “Are you all right? You look like you’re going to stroke out.”
“AmIall right? Do any of you hear her? Or yourselves?” Skye clutched her head, then grabbed her braid in both fists and yanked, hard. Once, twice, and again. It was a startling, almost disturbing thing to watch. “She can’t do it! She has long said so!”
“Well, as I also said, dreading the Reaps was worse than doing them. I’ll never get over how odd that is. And I’m new, obviously.” She spread her hands and shrugged. “But I’ll learn. My father was new, once. And I have help. I’m not so proud I’ll go it alone.”
“You are not your father!” Skye practically screamed.
“Skye,” Hilly began tartly, but subsided when Amara shook her head.
“You only got through one Reap before youandyour luckless paramour fled to the zoo, for gods’ sake! Like children ducking class!”
“Right. The zoo. Thatwasrelaxing. And you knew that how, Skye?”
“I—what?”
“How did you know Gray and I went to the zoo?” Amara’s tone was pure honest curiosity.Just asking a simple question. We’re all still friends. Nothing amiss anywhere.“You weren’t with us. And we didn’t tell anyone what we did or where we went.”
“It’s not like your activities have been a secret,” Skye snapped. “And La Croix gossips like a fishwife.”
