Page 36 of The Reluctant Reaper
Halfway to the stairs, Amara stopped and stuck a finger in his face. “Get that idea out of your head right now, Gray. No one here should be rescued. Ever. For any reason. We’ve shat our bed and now we all have to lie in it.”
“Okay, super gross. Here’s what I don’t get. Behold!”
“Oh my God.” Amara was equal parts amused and horrified. “Who gave you my junior high school yearbooks? Have you been carrying that around the whole time?”
“I swore I’d protect my sources unto death. But look.” He began flipping through the pages documenting her period of public-school imprisonment. “Look at all the activities! And lots of friends—so many people signed this thing, there’s not room for even one more person to wish you a great summer. ‘Raider Princess,’ whatever the hell that is. But then...” He held up her senior high school yearbook. “A year later, no activities, and maybe five people signed, and it looks like three of them were teachers.”
“Your point? Other than I need to set those things on fire?”
“No one in this house can hide their amazement that you brought a friend. But it wasn’t always like that. These books prove it. What happened tothisgal?” He jabbed a picture of fourteen-year-old Amara emoting like crazy on the set ofInto the Woods. “Where’d she go?”
“She found out when all her friends were going to die and under what circumstances and realized there was no point.”
“Utter bullshit, Amara.”
“It’snotutter?—”
“Ah! I knew I’d find you here.”
They both turned as Skye came down the spiral staircase. “You, Amara, I mean.” To Gray: “I had no idea where you’d be. I’m indifferent to your location.”
“You’re just in time!” Gray cried, and Amara prayed that meant he was going to quit with the yearbooks. “I told you earlier I recognized you.”
She grinned. “I assumed it was a craven lie.”
“Not this time. Check it.”
Skye peered over Amara’s shoulder. “A comic book.”
“A graphic novel,” Gray corrected. “See?Red Sonja.” Flip-flip-flip. “Here she is invoking Scáthach. And here she is praying to Scáthach. That’s the goddess who gave her such prowess in battle. Here she is asking Scáthach to do her a solid, and here she is yelling at Scáthach.”
“I know all these things,” Skye said, handing back the graphic novel. “I’m just surprised you do.”
“Are you kidding? My dad has a Red Sonja tattoo between his nipples.”
“Good God.”
“Don’t judge, Amara. Dad could have used that two hundred bucks either for groceries or for Red Sonja. He made the right choice.”
“GoodGod.”
Gray ignored her revulsion. “Anyway, Skye, I’ve been hearing about the She-Devil with a Sword since—wait. You know? What does that mean? Are you implying that Red Sonja was real? Oh my God! Pleasepleasetell me she was real.”
“Many myths are based in reality,” Skye replied. “But I’d worry your brain would implode if we take this any further.”
“I wouldn’t mind! And that’s as good as a yes.” To Amara: “I fucking love visiting your family.”
“Wait,” Amara advised, as Skye laughed.
ChapterSeventeen
Figuring it was best to postpone visiting her dad and leave Gray to his research (though she prayed he wouldn’t unearth more yearbooks or, worse, old book reports), and wanting to work off bacon calories, Amara asked for a sparring session. Her old teacher lit up at the suggestion, so they went to the caretaker’s house on the south end of the property, where the upper floor had been converted to a gymnasium when Amara first began learning to fight.
And hadn’t that been the source of many a squabble? Death and his Maiden, a.k.a. Hilly, could think of no reason why their daughter needed to learn a proper palm strike or master the spinning back fist.Because I won’t ever be Death, teenager Amara had wanted to shriek but didn’t.And you know that!
It had been one of the few arguments she won, and though her parents essentially oozed “It’s unnecessary but why not humor the silly darling, let her get whatever this is out of her system,” Amara took the training seriously.
A good thing, too, as Skye wasn’t just an expert in all sorts of wonderfully dangerous pastimes like underwater fighting and cooking over an open flame, she was mistress of the Gáe Bolg and passive/aggressive shit-talk during fights.
