Death Becomes Me (Call Me Grim Book 2) (14 page)

Nicholas looks over my shoulder as he forms his response. “Without her left hand, Millie cannot remove the Scythe from her right thumb. He took away her ability to choose this life or give it up. He made her a Reaper forever.”

“Wait. He can’t do that.” Aaron slams his fists on the tabletop. The liquid in the glasses slosh back and forth with the sudden jarring movement.

“I assure you, my friend,” Nicholas says so softly I barely hear him. “He can, and he did.”

“Can’t she take it off with her teeth?” I say hopefully.

“Do you think there would be a problem if she could?” Nicholas says.

“But there are rules.” Aaron’s angry voice bounces around the kitchen. “He has to follow the rules, the same as us.”

“I don’t think Abaddon has rules so much as limitations,” Nicholas says. He wraps his hands around his sweating glass and lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “People can’t breathe underwater, but that doesn’t stop them from going to the bottom of the sea. Does it?”

“Okay. All right.” Aaron scrubs his hand across his forehead like he wishes the action could erase what he just heard. “Maybe it doesn’t matter if he follows rules. He still has limitations. If we learn them, we might be okay.” His hopeful gaze slides from Nicholas to me and back to Nicholas. “Right?”

“Yes, technically.” Nicholas sighs. “But at what price?”

My heart drops to the floor. What price, indeed?

“I suppose it’s too late to worry about the price.” Nicholas flings a hand dismissively. A look of determination hardens his haggard features. “You came here for my help. Yes?”

“Y-yes.” I stagger, though my sandpaper tongue doesn’t want to cooperate.

“Then I will help you.”

“You will?”

He nods. “You can stay here. When Abaddon is close, David will keep you. He owes me a debt. But you must understand this is a great risk to me.” He crosses his arms on the tabletop and holds me in his sharp gaze. “It will be safest for everyone if you cut off all ties with your former life. Forget everyone you ever knew and loved. Your parents, your siblings, your friends, the person who took over for you as Reaper. You must forget them all to keep them safe. If you can do that, I will allow you to stay here.”

Under the table, Aaron’s fingers slip around my hand. I look up at him and his eyes swim with concern.

“Can you do that, Libbi?” he asks. “Can you forget them?”

“I don’t know.” I gnaw my bottom lip as if drawing blood would help me make the right decision. “He’s already attacked Kyle once.”

“We knew that would happen,” he says. “Kyle knew it would happen. He agreed to it.”

“I know he did,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean I can forget it. He sliced him to pieces, Aaron.”

“Sliced to pieces is better than marked and dead,” Aaron says.

“Is it?” I say, though I know he’s right. Marked and dead is much worse than a chest and back covered in scars, but I still feel like shit. How can I forget my mother and Max? Or Haley and Kyle? How can I forget the sacrifice Kyle made for us? It’s impossible.

I can’t. And I won’t. As long as I’m alive, I will remember them, but I have to accept they are no longer a part of my life now. Aaron’s right. Kyle may be scarred, but he’s alive. And so am I, because of him. To forget that would be to forget why I’m here. But to rush back in a panic because Abaddon has done something we knew he would do is just foolish.

“Okay,” I say finally. “I agree. My old life is gone. I won’t worry about the people in Carroll Falls anymore.”

After another glass of refrigerated iced tea, Nicholas takes us upstairs to a room that’s about twice the size of my bedroom at home. Other than a fine layer of dust coating the floor, dresser, and bedspread, it’s remarkably neat and uncluttered.

“Make yourselves at home,” Nicholas says, then he closes the bedroom door behind him.

Aaron and I shake the dust off the bedspread and pillows. With Nicholas’s permission, we pry the plywood boards off the windows. Light filters in through the dirty glass, making the room almost cheery.

“What do you think?” Aaron asks as he claps dirt and dust off of his hands. The dust particles drift through the sunlight like snow.

“Nice.” My gaze travels around the unfamiliar room. “Not home, but it’ll do.”

Aaron faces me. His blue eyes sparkle with something I thought I’d never see again. Hope? Relief? I don’t know, but his hands settle on my waist and he pulls me close.

“We’ll make it home, Libbi.” He leans down and kisses me with such tenderness it’s as if he’s afraid he might break me.

I smile against his lips. He should know by now I’m hardly a delicate flower. I push up on my tiptoes and press my lips solidly against his, feeling his warm breath against my cheek as my lips part. He takes the hint and deepens his kiss, pushing his body against mine. Taking my breath away.

His hand slides up my back and under my ponytail. He grasps the hair tie and chills race down my spine as he slowly tugs it out. His breathing quickens. My loose waves cascade down my back and he combs his fingers through, moving his kisses to my jawbone and then down the curve of my neck.

“We’ll make it
our
home,” he whispers against my skin.

Our home. The thought gives me a surge of joy even as the rational part of me cringes. He said “our home,” like we’re newlyweds and he just carried me across the threshold. Mom and Dad’s failed marriage crawls into my mind like a spider. Mom was seventeen and pregnant when they married. I’m only sixteen. I know sleeping in the same bed isn’t marriage, but it’s definitely something. Am I ready for that? Am I ready to play house with a guy I only just started dating? Am I ready to tie him down? I don’t think I am. I like him. A lot. He’s kind, thoughtful, loyal, and sexy as hell, but do I love him? I don’t know. I’m not even one hundred percent sure how strong his feelings are for me. Or if I’m right for him.

I pull away.

“Don’t take this the wrong way…” I start.

“Uh-oh,” Aaron says as he untangles his hands from my hair.

“Maybe we should ask Nicholas for separate rooms.”

“Still not sure about me?” His voice is low and colored with only a trace of disappointment.

“No, I’m not,” I say and quickly add, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Libbi.” He kisses the tip of my nose and lets me go. “I said I’d wait, and I meant it.”

Nicholas gives me the room across the hall. It’s not as big as Aaron’s room, but I can’t complain. It’s quite a bit larger than my room at home. No. Carroll Falls is not my home anymore. This rundown, abandoned house with a mechanical center in the suburbs of Chicago is my home now. I mean, at least I have a home. It wasn’t long ago that our “plan” was to run and run indefinitely. Having a house and a bedroom and someone on our side is huge. And I couldn’t be more grateful.

16

A week passes, and so does the end of Kyle’s training period. We both expect something to happen when Kyle officially becomes a Reaper, but nothing does. My soul remains as bright as the sun, and Aaron’s is as dull as a tea candle. No marks appear across either of our faces. Even my Reaper powers remain intact.

Invisible, unable to leave Nicholas’s territory, with no souls to collect, and no responsibilities, I find myself with little to do. And I get bored. So bored, I’m seriously jealous of Aaron when he gets a job at a convenience store a few blocks from the house.

Almost every day he has to work, I tag along. I have nothing better to do, but more importantly, if I stay at the house the headaches are close to unbearable. Nicholas says he’s working on something to fix that particular problem, but in the meantime, he uses pain meds, meditation, and breathing techniques to overcome the pulling agony that separation from Aaron’s dying soul causes him. I guess I’m not Zen enough for that to work for me.

“I suppose I should pay you, then,” Aaron’s boss Bernie says at the end of Aaron’s Friday night shift. The balding man scratches his round gut as he opens the register and removes a bunch of twenties. He counts a few out and presses the small stack of cash into Aaron’s palm. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“I won’t.” Aaron’s fist closes over the money. “Thank you.”

“Sunday. 9am.” The register dings when Bernie pushes the drawer closed.

“Sunday,” Aaron confirms. He unties the green apron around his waist and hangs it up on the wall behind the counter. His hand curls around mine and he leads me out of the store onto the sun-speckled street.

“I have a surprise for you,” Aaron says quietly as we rush down the sidewalk. His eyes sparkle with excitement and a touch of mischief.

“Really?” I say “How is that possible? You haven’t gone anywhere without me.”

“I have my ways,” he says darkly. His gaze slides to me over his shoulder and he waggles his eyebrows at me.

“Ways?” A burst of laughter spurts from my mouth. I mean, he made it sound like he performed some kind of voodoo ritual to create this surprise.

“Yes, ways.” He grins.

“Okay. You have ways.” I shrug and let him drag me down the road a few blocks.

Aaron stops in front of another store. “Surprise!” He swings his hands up, presenting the storefront of the art supply store.

My heart squeezes inside my chest. I’ve gazed into the window of this store every time we’ve passed it on the way to his job. So many times I’ve almost walked in, but stopped myself. What’s the point of it? If no one can see my art, why bother?

“Pick whatever you want.” He reaches into his pocket and withdraws the handful of cash Bernie gave him. “Well, eighty dollars’ worth of whatever you want.”

“I can’t.” I shake my head slowly. “You just got paid. I can’t let you use your first paycheck on me. I have my own money.”

“Right. And you still haven’t gone in there and bought anything.”

“What’s the point?” I speak to my tennis shoes.

“Look.” Aaron’s fists settle on his hips and his lips form a determined line. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you drooling over the window display. Don’t ruin this for me. Call it a commission, if that makes you feel better. I’m hiring you to make me some artwork.” His hand slips to the small of my back and he nudges me toward the door. “Now, you
will
go into that store and you
will
pick out some art supplies, or so help me I’ll pick them out myself. And you really don’t want me to do that. I’m likely to pick up a box of crayons and construction paper. So, go.”

He shoves me hard and I stumble forward.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“You better not.” He shoves me again and I stumble into the cool interior of the glorious art supply store.

I am home.

Rows upon rows of paint, and paper, and canvas, and pencils, and I can hardly contain my joy. There’s so much possibility here, so much potential for expression. My fingers shake as I run them over the nearest empty canvas. My insides jiggle with excitement. This whole store is an empty canvas.

An hour later, we leave the store with a pad of drawing paper and various shades and colors of artist pencils, charcoals, and pastels. Aaron insists on the clerk wrapping it all up with paper and a red ribbon, which is silly, but I don’t fight him.

“Thank you.” I say once we’re outside again. I lace my fingers around his neck. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Believe me, Libbi.” His arms wrap my waist and he presses me closer to his body. He plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. “This gift was totally selfish of me.”

“I know.” My cheeks flush with heat. “I’ve been pretty annoying, haven’t I? I’ve just been so bored.”

“No.” He gives me a confused little frown. “I mean I’ve missed watching you draw. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to hire you. So, make me something great.”

I laugh and it comes easily. My mind is brimming with ideas. People I’ve seen as we’ve walked around the neighborhood. The view of Chicago from my bedroom window. Suddenly, I can’t wait to get home and get started.

Saturday, we explore a little of Nicholas’s territory. We go to the park and to the movies. Aaron buys a ticket for himself, and I, invisible and unnoticed, follow him in. I’m sure we confuse more than a few theater patrons with our intense make-out session in the back of the theater. Aaron must look crazy kissing and groping the air. But at the end of the day, I go to my room, and he goes to his.

Once alone, my mind drifts back to Carroll Falls, as it always does. As much as I couldn’t wait to leave that place, I miss it so much sometimes it feels like my heart might explode. I miss my family more than I know how to say. I wonder how Mom is holding up without me. I wonder how Max and Haley are doing now that Kyle has disappeared.

Kyle. Yes, I worry about Kyle, too. He’s in my mind constantly. Would I know if Abaddon did anything permanent to him? Would I want to know?

Aaron tries to cheer me up. He sings me silly songs he makes up on the fly, or he leaves little origami figures around the house for me to find. Sometimes it works, but sometimes the guilt eats at my gut and I can’t do anything but curl up in bed.

None of it seems right. The reaper system, the Gateways, the confinement within our given territories, the way future suicide victims and murderers are marked like cattle, the impossible choices we’re given, the punishments for defying Abaddon. It seems more like a dictatorship then a heavenly appointment, and Reapers are the lackeys.

I never really gave much thought to the afterlife before I met Aaron, but I know I didn’t think it’d be like this.

What does Abaddon want? He must get something out of this, because if that monster is working for God, then I have more than a few words for the Man Upstairs.

He’s obviously not some kind of heavenly middleman. But what is he? What’s going on in Abaddon’s side of the Gateway? And can he be stopped? We can’t hide forever. Someday, something has to give.

***

Sunday morning, I sit on a stool behind the counter of the convenience store, my brand new drawing pad, a box of pastels, and a case with erasers and other supplies on my lap. Aaron ties his apron behind his back, glances down at my stash, and gives me a satisfied nod.

And I draw. From the time the store opens at 9am until lunch, I sit, head down, absorbed in a portrait of my mom. I catch Aaron looking over my shoulder a few times, but he’s not annoying about it. He just peeks, and then continues with his day.

At ten of noon, the front door swings open and Renee sashays in.

“Hey Aaron,” she says with a sweet smile. She drops her purse on the floor behind the counter and grabs an apron from the hook. She ties it around her slim figure. The fabric pulls tight against her way-bigger-than-mine boobs. Why am I looking at her boobs? I look away. “Been busy today?” Her voice is soft and breezy.

“A little.” He hands the middle-aged man at the counter his bag and change. “Have a nice day, sir.”

“Thanks. You too.” The man scans over to Renee. She twists her thick blond hair up into a bun, completely oblivious of him. His face brightens. “Hi, Renee.”

She ignores the guy like a boss.

“Perv,” she says under her breath, once he’s hurried out of the store.

A laugh bursts from Aaron. I glare at him, but he doesn’t see it. He’s giving Renee his heart-stopping smile. He shakes his head and laughs again.

“I wish he’d just get the hint.” Renee matches his smile and adds a flutter of her eye lashes. Yup. She’s as affected by his smile as I am.

“Why don’t you just tell him you’re not interested?” Aaron says.

“What? And disappoint the poor guy? What will he do on his lunch breaks?” Renee pushes a few stray strands of hair back into her bun. “Speaking of lunch breaks.” She playfully shoves Aaron away from the register, a flirty smile at her lips. “Time for you to take yours.”

“All right. All right.” Aaron holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going.”

Renee’s a little older than me, eighteen, maybe. Sweet. Pretty. Funny. Someone Haley and I’d probably hang out with. Oh, and I hate her.

I don’t mention Renee at lunch. I know better. The first time I met her, I noticed Aaron’s reddened cheeks and how he bumbled his words when he talked to her.

“You like her,” I said, once we were alone. “You think she’s pretty. Admit it.”

“She’s a nice girl.”

“She’s more than nice, and you know it.”

“I guess.” He turned away, his cheeks so red I bet Santa could have used them to navigate in a blizzard. “You could say she’s pretty.”

And that’s about when my little green monster made an appearance. I blew up. It was a minor explosion, but it caused damage for sure. Aaron looked at me like he didn’t know me, like he couldn’t imagine I had such an ugly side to me. Then he calmly pointed out that if I didn’t want his opinion, I shouldn’t have asked for it.

That ended it. My jealous monster crawled back into its cave, leaving me with the aftermath. Aaron was right, of course, though I’ll never admit it. At this point, I’d rather ignore the problem all together. Because if I think about it too long, I’ll realize that maybe Renee is better for him. At least she’s visible.

We come back from lunch and Renee sits on my stool. She holds my sketchpad up in front of her, eyes wide and jaw slack. My heart does a little jig. Oh my God. She sees it. She can see my work. As much as I don’t want to like Renee, I hold back a strong desire to hug her. She barely notices when Aaron steps behind the counter.

“Do you like it?” Aaron says at her shoulder. Renee jumps.

“It’s amazing.” She motions to the portrait of my mother. “You did this?”

“Umm ….” Aaron looks up at me, a question in his eyes.

“Tell her it’s yours,” I blurt. I’m afraid if he says my name the pastel drawing will disappear from her view. I just realized my art could be seen by the living. There is no way I’ll allow it to disappear, even under these circumstances. If Aaron has to sign all of my work, so be it. At least it will be seen.

His eyes narrow and his head tilts. His expression says ‘Are you sure?’

“Yes, Aaron,” I say, nodding. “Tell her you drew it.”

“Umm, yeah,” Aaron says quietly. “I drew it.”

“Wow.” Renee’s eyes travel over the drawing. “I never knew you were so talented.”

“Well…Thanks?” He shuffles his feet and looks to me again.

“You know ….” She swipes her bangs from her eyes. “My grandparents are about to have their fortieth anniversary. I bet they’d love something like this. Would you be willing to do a portrait of them? I can bring you pictures. And I’ll pay you.”

Aaron’s eyes slide to me again.

I’m practically bouncing with excitement. I thought my time as an artist was done. I thought the only people who could ever appreciate my work were either dead, about to be dead, should be dead, or Reapers. But that’s not the case. I might have a career as an artist after all. Oh God, with Aaron’s help, I might be able to have the life I’ve always dreamed of.

“Yes, Aaron.” I nod furiously. “Tell her you’ll do it.”