Death Becomes Me (Call Me Grim Book 2) (18 page)

Yup. I want to punch him.

“No.” I tuck my irritation and thoughts of Renee down deep where he can’t feel them. The last thing I need is to piss the a-hole off or give him more leverage. “Aaron and I are still together, but he’s lost his powers. He can’t use a Scythe anymore.”

“Shame,” Bobby shakes his head. “But what does any of this have to do with me?”

“Abaddon is looking for us.”

“You don’t say.”

I ignore his sarcasm and continue. “He’s threatened to take people I love as Shadows.”

“I already know this, darlin’.” Bobby crosses his arms over his chest. “Why, just this morning, he told all of us Reapers to say that, if we saw you. And if you don’t agree to go back on your own, we’re supposed to take you to him ourselves.”

“Right—”

“And here’s the kicker. He even said he’d be willing to let Aaron go and forget everything, if you came back. If you believe his promises.” He shrugs. “Honestly, if I could take you to him, I would. In a heartbeat.” He drops a photo on top of the box on his lap. I remember this photo. It’s the one of the two boys he was looking at before. He lifts the box off his lap and places it gently to the floor. “So, I don’t see how you think I can help you.”

“Please.” I can’t help the panic that invades my voice. “All I ask is for you to answer one question. That’s it. Then I’ll leave.”

“One question, huh?” He touches his chin thoughtfully. “What’s in it for me?”

That takes me off guard. The selfish, backstabbing, traitorous bastard wants something in return? After everything he did to us?

I take a deep breath and push my fury down with my irritation. I should have known he’d want something in return. This is the same guy who insisted on a kiss for taking me to see Kyle and Max, and that was
after
he had ratted us out. But I have nothing to give him. At least nothing I’m
willing
to give him. And I have nothing I can promise him or use as blackmail.

I skim the attic, searching for something, anything that can help me win him over. Bobby’s box of photos catches my eye. The same box with the same photo he had the day he betrayed us for his niece.

Before Bobby can stop me, I lean over and snatch it up.

“That’s your brother, right?” I hold the photo up to our eyes.

“So?” Bobby says, but I can feel him bristle from the inside. “He’s dead now.”

“But you loved him, didn’t you?”

“Of course, I did. He was my kid brother.”

“Well, I have a kid brother too. You met him, remember? His name’s Max. You said he was cute.” I shake the photo in front of his face for effect. “If I don’t go back to Carroll Falls, Abaddon has threatened to make a Shadow out of my little brother. And if that’s possible, I can’t let it happen.” I suddenly wish I could grab his shoulders and shake him, but I can’t. So I settle for the one thing I know he cares about to drive the point home. “He’s not much older than your niece, Bobby. Her name’s Annalise, right? Well, my brother’s just a kid, a little kid.”

I feel him flinch at the mention of Annalise and I sigh with relief. I’ve gotten to him. By some miracle, I’ve broken through his bullshit and gotten to him.

“Then you need to go back to Carroll Falls,” Bobby says, his voice soft but determined. “Before it’s too late.”

“Can he really do that?” My blood races through my body as my heart gallops faster. “Can he really take Max and make him a Shadow?”

Bobby nods.

“But Aaron says he doesn’t have control of the living. He says he can’t make someone a Shadow if they’re alive.”

“That shows how little Aaron knows,” Bobby mumbles.  He clears his throat and continues, “If someone is vulnerable, he can take them as a Shadow.”

“Vulnerable?”

“Easily lead. Easily fooled.” Bobby cracks the knuckles of his left hand. “Like little kids.”

My stomach twists around my heart and squeezes. If what he says is true, Abaddon is more than a monster; he’s a sadistic, manipulative creature of chaos and misery. I’ve thought it before, but this time the fact leaves me breathless. How can this
thing
be responsible for the souls of our dead? Our loved ones? He has to be the predator Nicholas thinks he is.

“How can I even believe you?” I’m reaching for straws now, but it’s all I have. “You said it yourself, if you could, you would turn me in.”

“You’re right. I would.” Bobby sighs. Despite his youthful appearance, he sounds old and tired. “Let me show you something, Libbi.”

Bobby rocks forward and stands and I have no choice but to go along. He’s taken control of his body. His two-toned shoes tap the floorboards as he strides out of the little cubby of empty space in the attic and into the narrow walkway.

The memory of Annalise’s pale hand flopping down on the banister chases a shiver down my spine. We step into the stairwell and head down to the second story. We melt through the attic door and the cool, air-conditioned air of the house sweeps over us like a heavenly wave.

Bobby takes us to the end of the second story hallway and stops at the last door. His eyes move over the pictures taped there, pausing occasionally so I can see each of the crayon drawings: trees, birds, a unicorn, and a house with a stick-figure family in the front yard with each member of the family carefully labeled. Scrawled across the bottom of each of the pictures is the name of the artist.

Annalise.

21

The door squeaks on its ancient hinges as Bobby pushes it open. He could have just walked through Annalise’s bedroom door, like he did with the attic door, but something tells me he enjoys the drama that opening a door creates.

The sunlight spilling through the sheer pink curtains illuminates the small room with soft light. Dolls and stuffed animals crowd the floor, the shelves, and the canopied bed. Their blank eyes stare eerily into space, like they’re waiting for something—or someone—and they’ve been waiting a long time. The feelings of neglect and grief settle over me like the thin layer of dust that blankets the room.

“I thought you said she’s alive.” I touch the arm of a teddy bear on the shelf next to the door. Dust puffs into my face and I jerk away, patting Bobby’s pockets for the inhaler I haven’t needed since I accepted Aaron’s job. Old habits die hard, I guess.

“Oh she’s alive, all right; if you call what she’s doing living.” Bobby straightens the teddy bear I disturbed and turns away from the shelf. “Annalise’s body is in the hospital. Catatonic. Her eyes as blank as these baby dolls’ eyes. She hasn’t said a word for months. Ever since my birthday.” He crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed. “The doctors say it might be autism, schizophrenia, or post-traumatic stress disorder, but that’s a bunch of malarkey. I know what really happened.” He taps his temple with his forefinger. “Her soul was taken and enslaved by Abaddon.”

“Wait. That’s her soul he’s using as a puppet?”

“Yup.”

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. Aaron had me convinced Annalise was a zombie. Zombies are flesh and bone, not spirits.

“And I guess he didn’t let her go after you turned us in, did he?”

“Why would he?” he says. “You got away.”

His voice remains monotone, distant, like he’s reading cue cards rather than telling me something painful and personal. I can’t tell if it’s because of grief, or regret, or if he’s trying to hide something.

He’d probably say anything to get me to turn myself in. I can’t fall for lies. I need to know the truth. What I do once I get back to Chicago depends on it. There has to be a way to find out for sure.

Well, I am sharing a body with him. It seems only logical that I’d be able to sense his emotions. Right? Maybe I can tell if he’s lying.

I concentrate on Bobby. I can feel him in here, sharing his body with me. But it’s like we’re two soap bubbles next to each other in a cup. Our souls are separate, kept apart by a thin membrane. And I guess that’s not a bad thing. I don’t think I’d like to read Bobby’s thoughts. They’re probably sexist and disgusting. But it would be nice if I could sense if he’s telling the truth.

I nudge the membrane separating us, testing it, afraid if I push too hard I might burst it and be treated to a wave of Bobby’s creepy innermost thoughts. But it doesn’t give. No longer afraid of breaking it, I push harder. It doesn’t budge. At all. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose or not, but it’s like the skin of whatever it is that makes us two separate individuals is made of Kevlar.

It’s pointless. I won’t be able to sense if he’s lying from inside. I’ll have to try something else.

“Look, this is all good and everything, but I still don’t know if I can trust you.” I pick a hunk of dust off the blanket and let it fall to the floor. “For all I know, Annalise is dead. This room doesn’t prove anything.”

“Do you think I brought you in here just to show you an empty, dusty room?” Bobby bends forward and reaches between the mattress and the box spring of the bed. His hand closes around a spiral bound book. “You want to know if Abaddon can take people as Shadows if they’re alive?” He places the sketchbook on his lap and runs his fingers over the doodles on the worn cover. “Annalise was alive when he tricked her into coming to him, when he took her. And just because she isn’t in this room doesn’t mean she’s dead. Her body is alive. So is her soul. They’re just separated.”

He flips back the front cover. The first several pictures in the book are similar to the ones decorating her door: vibrant colored trees, her mom riding a unicorn, mermaids, flowers towering over her tiny family. Each person featured in her drawings is carefully labeled: Me, Mommy, Daddy, May, Dylan, Lily, Craig.

“It started with nightmares.” Bobby turns another page. The colors in this picture are darker, more blues, purples, and black, casting an ominous tone to what should be a playful picture of a garden. “I’d hear her scream in the middle of the night. She’d tell her mother a monster was watching her sleep. I thought it was just the overactive imagination of a child. So did her mom.”

A few more drawings, each darker than the last.

“I should have known something wasn’t right when she started carrying this sketchbook with her everywhere she went. She wouldn’t let anyone look in it, not even her mother.”

Next page. More flower drawings, but all the petals are black.

“She started to withdraw. Hardly said a word to anyone, and when she did speak, what she said was frightening. Her mother took her to a psychologist. That hack did nothing.”

Next page. This picture shows four kids swinging on swings. A figure labeled “boy” stands at the edge of the picture. His long jet-black shadow stretches unnaturally off the edge of the opposite side of the paper. Running along the middle of the black shadow is a thin white stripe, like a skunk.

“Who is that?” I tap the creepy image with Bobby’s index finger.

“Who do you think it is?”

“Abaddon?”

“Inside of a Shadow.” He confirms. “He’s used a young boy on me once before. This was probably the same kid. Poor guy.”

Bobby turns the page to the next drawing and then the next. More pictures of flowers and mermaids and unicorns, but there’s something strange about them. They’re distorted, like she drew them while looking through wavy glass.

Then there’s a picture of Annalise and boy alone. In this picture the two stick figures face each other. Boy holds a flower out to Annalise. A smile cuts his head in half. But what’s most disturbing is that Annalise is wearing a matching smile and is reaching for the flower.

Black trees tower over them as they stand on the outside of a circle that has been drawn on the ground. Boy’s abnormally long shadow stretches into the center of the circle and ends. The arm not holding a flower out to Annalice is lifted and pointing toward the center of the circle, where his shadow stops. Where I know there’s a Gateway hidden from view.

“They found her unconscious in the woods outside of town, smack dab in the center of an unnatural formation of stones with this book and a box of crayons in her hands. The police confiscated it, but I stole it back. It wouldn’t do them any good anyway.” The sketchbook makes a soft clap as Bobby snaps it closed. “They think devil worshippers, or some other group of people equally as stupid, kidnapped her and took her there. Other than a few scrapes and bruises, she was unharmed, so the police think she was psychologically tortured.” Bobby shrugs. “I guess they have a point. Those stones have attracted some crazy characters over the years. People who think the stones have some kind of magical power, like Stonehenge. Which they do, but not in the way they think.” He huffs.

“So, he lured her to the Gateway and what? Took her soul?”

“Yup.”

“And he uses it as a Shadow? To torture you?”

I drag a finger over the closed cover of the sketchbook and try to convince myself that what I just saw within its pages is just the result of the active imagination of a young girl. But I know that’s a lie.

“Yup,” he says again. “He told me he’d let her go if I proved I could be trusted. Like I told you and Aaron before, I haven’t exactly been a model Reaper. A little rebellious, you might say.” His laugh is dry and humorless. “He told me what would happen to her, but I didn’t listen. I pushed my limits. Thought the same thing you and your boyfriend thought, that he was full of hot air. I figured the boy Shadow he used on me a few times was someone who was already dead. I know now I was wrong.”

“But Annalise looked dead,” I regurgitate Aaron’s explanation softly. “The way she moved, all slow and jerky, like an extra from a bad zombie flick.”

“Because he was controlling her.” He slips the sketchbook back between the mattress and box spring. “And if she’s anything like me, she was fighting him.”

“But, the smell. She smelled dead.”

“Do you think Abaddon smells like a field of fresh flowers?” He stands and slicks back his greasy hair with his hands. He wipes the residue on his jeans.

“She was fighting him. Does that mean she’s still in there?” I can’t help the optimistic tone in my voice. To me, it sounds like there’s hope, like we could get her out with a little coaxing.

“Yes,” he says as his hands ball into fists. “But isn’t that worse? She’s alive in there. Aware of how he manipulates her, uses her. Hurts her. And unable to do anything about it. I would rather she were dead. I’ve handled the deaths of so many I’ve loved over the years. But this? This is cruel.” He runs a hand down the side of his face and sighs. “What really gets me is how he lied to me. He told me he’d let her go if I proved myself a reformed Reaper. Isn’t turning you two in enough proof for him?” Bobby kicks one of the dolls on the floor over to her side. He quickly bends, stands it back up, and straightens the doll’s dress. “So what if you got away. That’s not my fault. I did everything I could and he still won’t let her go.”

Suddenly, I’m struck with an emotion I never thought I’d feel for Bobby again. Pity. I feel sorry for the back-stabbing jerk. Don’t get me wrong; I still think he’s a creep. He did try to force himself on me, which puts a pretty big stain on a person’s record. But he only turned us in because he thought Abaddon would free his niece. If I was in that same situation, I doubt I’d do anything different.

“Sometimes I wish I could just kill the bastard.” Bobby punches the bedroom door and it flies open, hitting the wall in the hallway so hard the echo reverberates through the house. He strides through and kicks it closed again. “Even if that meant I would die. I’ve lived long enough. I hate that he has this much control over us.”

“Me too,” I say, and I mean it, even though I know wanting him dead is an impossible wish. I don’t know what Abaddon is, but I don’t think he can just be killed. It’s like wishing a ghost would die. Or that we could kill a corpse.

“So, do you still think I’m lying to get you to turn yourself in?” He folds his arms over his chest and scowls.

He’s answered my question and I believe he’s telling the truth. I’ve seen more than enough evidence. Bobby had no idea I would come to see him today. And I doubt he drew in that sketch book and hid it under Annalise’s bed just in case I came and asked him the exact question that it answers. I may not trust him with anything else, but I do with this.

I shake my head.

“Good.” The muscles in his shoulders relax. I hadn’t realized how tense he was. “I can’t control what you do once you leave here, but if I were you, I’d go back to Carroll Falls and turn yourself in. If you care about your brother even half as much as I care about Annalise, you’d kill Aaron like you were supposed to, and go back. Before it’s too late.”

His advice hits me hard, like a lead weight slamming into my chest. The words threaten to bowl me over and destroy me.

Once again, I’m faced with an impossible choice. I could continue to live in freedom with Aaron, but Abaddon would torture Kyle, both physically and emotionally, by taking Max’s and Haley’s souls as Shadows. And I know he’s already started on Haley. Kyle told Ruth he thought she was going crazy. If Bobby can be believed, that’s the first step. I could
never
live with that, so I toss the idea aside.

Or I could do what Abaddon, Bobby, and Kyle want me to do. I could kill Aaron and return to Carroll Falls. Then Kyle could kill me. That would keep everyone safe. Everyone except the boy I’ve grown to love. Months ago, before I even knew I loved him, I decided I would never hurt Aaron. Out the window goes that idea.

Or I could leave Aaron.

He’d be safe in Nicholas’s territory. Abaddon said he’d let Aaron go if I came back. He could have a life, a future with Renee. Maybe they’ll get married and have kids or something. I don’t know if he can grow old or not. Maybe, without me around to kill him, he’ll become immortal. It doesn’t matter. He deserves whatever life he can have. As much as my heart aches thinking about it, I can leave Aaron if it means he’ll be safe and happy. He’s not dumb enough to come after me, is he? By the time he caught up, I’d be dead, and it’d be pointless.

After I leave, I can rush home and make Kyle kill me. With me dead, Kyle will be the permanent Carroll Falls Reaper. Abaddon will be appeased, my family and friends will be safe, and Aaron will be in hiding, but alive. The only person Aaron needs to worry about is Sara, and she’s too sharp to fall for Abaddon’s Shadow-making tricks. I can live with that.

But am I ready to die? I was scheduled to die months ago. I even accepted it, when I thought I could save Kyle and Aaron. It was my time. But now, I’m back on the fence. Can I really do this?

Yes. I have to. It’s not just me I need to worry about. It’s everyone I love. All of them, in one way or another, will be affected if I don’t do this. I have to make Kyle kill me. The trick will be getting Kyle to agree. Aaron was right when he said Kyle wouldn’t do it. He’s almost as stubborn as I am. But he has to. There’s no other choice.