Call Me Grim (29 page)

My knees buckle and I fall forward, vaguely comprehending Aaron’s arms around me, sweeping me up. And then there’s nothing but darkness.

Blackness.

Sunlight beats against my closed eyelids. I throw an arm across my face and yank the blankets over my head. It’s too early to get up. My alarm clock hasn’t shrieked yet.

And why is it so damned bright in here? The cogs in my brain turn slowly. I must have forgotten to close the blinds before I climbed under the covers last night. But that doesn’t seem right. I don’t remember going to bed.

My eyes pop open and I sit up, kicking my blankets to the floor. A stripe of sunlight streams through the naked window and bathes my bed in bright light. The blinds are in the same position I put them in when I climbed out the window to meet Kyle last night—all the way up.

The clock on the wall beside the window says it’s 6:10 a.m., but I already know that. My internal Reaper clock is ticking away. Aaron’s still here.

He snores softly in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. The purple flowered quilt my nana made for my eighth birthday covers him up to his chin. His crossed feet are propped on the white plastic laundry basket that he dumped and flipped upside down. I scan the laundry strewn across the floor for dirty underwear and bras and heave a sigh of relief that my unmentionables aren’t visible.

I leap out of bed and shove him as hard as I can in the chest. The chair rocks back and his feet slide off the basket and thump to the floor. His red, puffy eyes snap open and he squints up at me through the sunlight.

“You asshole,” I say just above a whisper. Mom has already left for work, but I don’t want to wake Max. “You knocked me out last night. What the hell did you do to me?”

“Jesus, Libbi.” He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and then blinks at me. “I relaxed you, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” I shield my eyes from the sun and squint at him. “I told you never to use that power on me again. Ever.”

“I’m sorry, but I had to.” He goes to the window and lowers the blinds, plunging my room into the familiar early morning shadows. “I needed to talk to Kyle alone and you wouldn’t let me.”

“That’s not an excuse to basically drug me, Aaron,” I say. “And there’s no reason for you to talk to Kyle alone. You don’t even know him.”

I know you don’t know me or trust me…
The phrase invades my thoughts like the foggy remnants of a half-remembered dream. Where did that come from?

“Look, I thought if I talked to him, I could heal his mark. Okay?” Aaron rubs the sleep from his eyes lazily. “It’s not like what
you
were doing was working.”

Maybe that’s true, but still.

“Well, did it work? Did it heal?” I ask nicely, despite the anger simmering in my chest.

“No.” Aaron slumps on the end of my bed. “I don’t think so.”

“So you drugged me for nothing then.”

“Not for nothing. What I had to say was important, whether it healed his mark or not.”

This is important…
The ghostly voice speaks in my subconscious again. It sounds familiar, but the name of the speaker dances back into the fog before my brain can grab it.

I lean against my dresser and slide my hands along the grainy wood, trying not to let him see my fury. “So…what did you say to him?”

He meets my sharp stare and holds it. “That’s between me and Kyle.”

“Then it was about me.”

Aaron narrows his eyes. “Some of it, yes.”

“Was it about the decision I made?”

He doesn’t answer, but his deep, blue eyes never waver from mine.

“I hope you realize it doesn’t matter what you said to Kyle. I still won’t kill you,” I say. Aaron opens his mouth to reply, but I cut him off before he does. “It’s not going to happen, Aaron, so get it out of your mind.”

The bed creaks as he stands and strides across the room toward me. He pierces me with the fierceness of his gaze. I’ve never seen him like this before. So determined.

“I hope I can change your mind about that.” His arms circle my waist, pulling me to him, pressing his chest, his abdomen, his hips against me, pushing me back into the dresser. Heat blooms in my stomach and my hands grip his back, hugging him closer despite my anger.

“I meant what I said last night.” His lips brush over mine briefly and dance away. “I couldn’t bear to take you to him. It would crush me to do that. I care about you too much, Libbi. I’d do anything to change your mind.”

Do anything…

“Sorry, but you can’t change my—”

He kisses me. There’s more than lustful heat in his kiss. There’s urgency in the way his lips move against mine and fear in the slight trembling of his jaw and something else I can’t quite identify.

The radio in the next room screams to life, blasting some classic rock song my mother sings all the time. Time for Max to get up for school.

I ignore the obnoxious noise of his alarm and concentrate on the kiss, on Aaron’s arms around me, on how well our bodies fit together, and the words spoken and unspoken between us. His fingers weave into the hair at the back of my head and his other hand slips under my shirt and over the curves of my hips and waist. There’s urgency in that action too, but a different kind. It’s the urgency of a longing that can never be fulfilled.

Now I remember the song playing on the other side of the wall. It’s the Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”

The kiss ends when I chuckle at the irony, but Aaron still holds me close. He tucks his thumbs in the waistband of my jeans and stares down at me with sad eyes.

“Did you really think kissing me would change my mind?” I whisper.

“No. Not really.” He sighs and his arms tighten around me. “You’re too stubborn for that to work. I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?”

“I don’t want you to die today.”

“You Can’t Always Get What You Want” ends and the last few notes blend into the piano intro of Guns and Roses’ “November Rain.”

Max seriously needs to turn off his alarm. It’s distracting.

“But you don’t want to die any more than I do. I know you don’t.” I let my fingertips trail down his scarred chest. “If you tell me you do, I’ll know you’re lying.”

“Listen to me.” Aaron tucks a lock of loose hair behind my ear. “Before I met you, my life was not a life. It was an existence. So many years
I’
ve been alone, invisible and unable to do anything but watch as my baby sister sank deeper and deeper into depression. All because of me.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It
is
my fault.” He lets go of me and backs away, shaking his head. “It’s true. I saved your life so I could talk to Sara, to save her from the Blackness. But after that, I wanted to die. I just wanted it over.” He combs his fingers through his hair and looks at me like he needs me to understand something important, but I don’t.

“You don’t want that now, though.” I grab his hands and pull him back against me and hold him tight around his middle so he can’t fly away.

“Only because of you.” His fingers trace my jawline and I lean into his caress. “But that’s the reason you have to kill me. My marks are forgiven because I’m a Reaper. If I die, I won’t face the Blackness or Abaddon. When you take me to the Gateway, I’ll get to go right to that light. But if you die today, Libbi, you will face them both, no matter how noble or romantic your reasons are.”

My phone rings in my purse.
Chirp, chirp, chirp!
I have a text. It’s probably Mom reminding me to do something. I ignore it.

“Then don’t take me there.” I grip the back of his shirt. “I will die. I get it. It’s automatic. But who says you have to take my soul to the Gateway? I can just stay here with you, sort of like a ghost.”

“No, you can’t.” Aaron shakes his head. “I begged Charlotte to let me keep my mother’s soul the night she died. She flat out refused. She had tried it once, when her sister died. When Abaddon realized what she’d done…” I can feel Aaron’s muscles tense against me. “Well, what happened to Charlotte and her sister was much worse than a few scars, believe me. Abaddon is Death incarnate, Libbi. He doesn’t like to be cheated, even a little bit.”

“Fine.” I drop my arms from around him and push him away. “Take me to the Gateway when I die today. I don’t care.”

Chirp, chirp, chirp!
I have another text.

“You’re being stupid.” He grabs my elbows. “You have to kill me. It’s the only way.”

“I’m not a murderer,” I say.

…do whatever it takes…
The dream voice speaks again. Where have I heard it before?

My phone chirps, and then it chirps one more time. Whoever it is must really want me to answer.

“I have to answer these texts before whoever it is blows my phone up.”

He steps back and I walk around him, to my desk. I dig my phone out of my purse and check the messages. All four are from Haley.

I read the last one on the screen first.

Haley: Libbi! Answer me!

I scroll up and read the other three in the order they were sent.

Haley: Is Kyle with you? He’s not home and I’m really worried about him.

Haley: He was acting weird last night. Have you seen him?

Haley: Answer me! I just found a note on his dresser. It says to tell you he’s sorry about Max. OMG! What’s going on?

I drop my phone. The announcer on the radio next door blurts out a loud “good morning” and promises “hit after hit from the seventies, eighties, and nineties.” My heart flip-flops like a fish in my chest. I glance at the wall Max and I share and then back to Aaron.

I rush through my door and step into the hallway. Max’s bedroom door is directly across the hall from mine. I take the few steps and bang on it with my fist.

“Max! Turn off your alarm. It’s time to get up.”

The radio answers with a corny advertisement for tires. I throw the door open and switch on the overhead light.

“Max?”

His bed is empty.

This is important…

His twisted, green camouflage blankets coil like a snake where he normally sleeps. In the divot where his head usually rests on his pillow is my Alaskan meteorite. It holds down a white sheet of lined paper. The ends of the page lift in the warm breeze wafting in from his open window.

…do anything…

“Aaron!” I yell over my shoulder. Before I finish saying his name, he’s at my side.

“Where’s Max?” he says as I cross the room and seize the note under my rock.

Whatever it takes…

I recognize the handwriting immediately; I’ve seen it so many times over the years. It always made me happy to see Kyle’s sharp writing on a page, but today it fills me with dread.

Libbi,

Max is with me. If you want to see him again, bring Aaron and meet me at Jumpers’ Bridge.

Don’t talk to anyone about this. If anyone other than you and Aaron shows up, Max will die. This is not a joke.

You were wrong, Libs. I’m not marked for suicide.

Do anything, Kyle. Whatever it takes…
The ghost voice drifts from my memory again, but this time I recognize Aaron’s soft, urgent tone.
Whatever it takes to keep her safe.

The meteorite drops out of my limp fingers and bounces on Max’s pillow. Without a word, I shove Aaron out of the way and he crashes into Max’s dresser. I tear out of the room, Kyle’s letter still clutched in my fist.

Down the stairs. Out the front door. Into the quiet, early morning heat.

“Wait! What does it say?” Aaron calls as he races after me.

It’s a good thing he follows me. I can’t run at the speed of sound without him. And I don’t think I can drive right now. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the road.

All I can see is Max.

And Kyle.

And Aaron.

The two of them conspired against me, as if I’m a helpless child who shouldn’t make her own decisions. They decided last night, while I was under Aaron’s relaxing power, to do anything to keep me safe. I guess “anything” includes hurting my baby brother.

I turn myself invisible on the front porch and take off running. Faster than I’ve ever run without holding Aaron’s hand. It would be exhilarating, if I wasn’t in such a panic.

Aaron catches up to me at the railroad tracks. He grips my upper arm.

“Wait, Libbi,” he yells over the rushing wind. “Stop!”

I shake my head and try to rip my arm out of his grasp, but his grip tightens. I can feel him holding me back, slowing me down, and dragging me to a stop.

My feet reluctantly skid against the gravel and I whip around, fist balled and aimed for his face. Aaron ducks right before my punch can smash his nose through the other side of his skull.

“Let go of me.” I twist my arm, trying to wiggle free.

“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.” Aaron grabs my other arm. His fingers tighten like mechanical claws on my flesh, holding me in place. Keeping me from getting to Max.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, Aaron.” I glare at him. “You may think your relaxing power is the shit, but I heard you two talking last night. I remember what you said to Kyle when you knocked me out.” I hit the middle of his chest as hard as I can with both fists and he grunts in pain. “Now, let me go!”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You told Kyle to do whatever it takes to keep me safe!” I’m screaming now. My high-pitched voice bounces against the trees surrounding us. “He took him, Aaron! I was wrong. Kyle isn’t marked for suicide. He’s marked for murder, and he took Max!”

“I-I never told him to do that. I never told him to take Max.” Aaron’s grip loosens and his face goes slack. “I just wanted him to talk to you. I thought he might be able to change your mind if I couldn’t.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter what you wanted. That’s what he did.” My muscles burn with the need to run. “He has Max at Jumpers’ Bridge and he wants us to meet him there.”

It always comes back to Jumpers’ Bridge. A place of daring. A place of death.

Kyle leans against one of the steel girders at the bridge’s midpoint, his feet crossed at the ankles. I make myself visible as I enter the bridge, and his head swivels to look at me. The boiling, black mark almost completely hides his face now; only one eye is visible. And he’s alone.