Death Becomes Me (Call Me Grim Book 2) (24 page)

They won’t do it,
I project to him desperately.
I already tried with Kyle and he missed. And now he knows it’s me. He won’t do it.

Yes. I can see how that may be true.
He chuckles and icy claws squeeze my upper arms and then relax.
But you can kill them.
One hand moves slowly up and down my arm, a chilly caress. I try hard to pretend it’s not my mother’s hand he’s using to do that.
Kill them, Libbi. Become Carroll Falls Reaper and I will release your mother’s soul and all of this will be over. For them, death is a better alternative than what I will do if you don’t.

A tear sneaks down my cheek and drops to the grass.
I don’t want anyone to get hurt.

“Let go of her.” Aaron skids down the hill, crushing the weeds in his path. “I’ll do whatever you want, just let her go.”

“You know what I want, Aaron Shepherd.” Abaddon’s grip on my arms loosens, but only slightly. His control over my ability to move remains strong. “Two of you should be dead, and one should be a Reaper. I just want what is mine.”

“You won’t have any luck trying to convince Libbi. She won’t touch us,” Kyle says as he follows the path Aaron made down the hill. “But Aaron and I have agreed to do each other. Then Libbi can be your Reaper.”

“How noble of you,” Abaddon seethes. His cold breath tickles my ear. “Unfortunately, it won’t work. Libbi can kill you and Aaron, and you and Aaron can kill Libbi, but you and Aaron cannot kill each other. There is no contract between the two of you. Aaron saved her life and she saved yours, therefore your contracts are both with Libbi.”

“Didn’t you hear what he said?” Aaron pumps his fists at his side, his face red and angry. “We’ve tried but she won’t touch us. And I don’t know about Kyle, but there’s no way I’ll hurt her.”

Kyle straightens his back and scowls at Aaron. “Of course I won’t hurt her.”

“See.” Aaron opens a hand in Kyle’s direction. “Neither of us will hurt Libbi.”

“Is that so?” Abaddon shifts his weight behind me. “Perhaps I can change at least one of your minds.”

The thick sound of something being yanked from mud emanates from the Gateway and the awful stench of death fills the air. I can’t turn to see what’s causing the sound, but the stunned look on Kyle’s face is enough. It’s the soul of someone he loves exiting the Gateway as a Shadow.

“Kyle. Help me.” Haley screams. The pure terror in her voice brings tears to my eyes. “Please. Libbi. Hel—” Her words are cut off with a strangled cry of agony. I don’t need to see Haley. The memory of my mother’s screams and of her soul writhing as Abaddon gained control of her is enough.

Please, stop hurting her.
I yell inside my head.
She hasn’t done anything.

You know what you must do for me to let her go, Libbi,
Abaddon says simply.
Two of you must die.

“Abaddon…” Kyle’s deep voice rumbles from his chest as his body grows tall and thin and a black shroud wraps his frame. His Scythe unfolds and he catches the weapon in his boney hand. Sunlight glints off the curved edge of the blade. “Let my sister go.”

“Is that a threat, Kyle Dennis?” Abaddon’s voice isn’t coming from my mother. He must have used Haley’s mouth this time.

“Hell yes, that’s a threat.” Kyle swings the Scythe in front of him like he’s a ninja with a sickle instead of a sword. Something tells me Abaddon is not impressed.

“Your threats are meaningless,” Abaddon says. He moves Haley into my field of vision. Her white dress billows behind her as she moves and her blond curls flutter around her heart-shaped face. The angelic vision of her soul is a complete contrast to the demonic voice coming from her lips. The sight is so disturbing I shudder on the inside.

“I said, let my sister go.” Kyle charges the rest of the way down the hill, blade raised over his head, ready to strike.

Wearing Haley’s soul, Abaddon rushes out of the circle surrounding the Gateway. He curls Haley’s ghostly fingers into claws. The shadow that is Abaddon’s hold on Haley’s soul stretches behind like a smear of black hate on the ground and disappears into the split in reality that is the Gateway.

The thin thread of light is there too. It extends from her feet to the underbrush at the edge of the circle. It’s one of the three threads I saw when I first got here. At first I thought the threads of light went off into the woods, but now I see this one leads to the white sole of a tennis shoe poking up out of the weeds. Haley’s tennis shoe.

Her body is here. Kyle said Haley had been acting strange lately, complaining of nightmares. Just like Annalise before Boy lured her to the Gateway in Millersville.

“Don’t let him touch you,” Aaron yells, startling me. “Look what he did to Libbi. She’s paralyzed.”

If Kyle hears him, he doesn’t show it. He races straight for Abaddon, an angry scream building in the air around him.

Abaddon lunges with Haley’s arms outstretched, reaching for Kyle as he nears. But Kyle leaps to the side, just out of reach. He circles Haley’s soul. Before Abaddon can turn her head, Kyle swings the Scythe down. It slices into the earth, scooping under the stripe of Blackness that leads from Haley’s feet to the Gateway. Abaddon’s oily tether lifts from the ground as Kyle yanks back on the Scythe. It pulls taut, like the over-tightened string of a guitar. But it doesn’t break. Not fast enough, anyway.

Abaddon swings around, jumps higher than a human possibly could, and grabs Kyle by his towering, skeletal shoulders. In one instant, Kyle shrinks back down to his human shape and the Scythe wraps his finger.

“Let me go, you monster.” Kyle screams, and kicks, and struggles as Abaddon wraps Haley’s arms around Kyle’s chest and drags him back to the circle.

Once they cross the threshold, Kyle stops fighting. He stands perfectly still in Haley’s arms, frozen, like me. It reminds me of a documentary I saw once about octopuses or octopi, or whatever. The octopus has a nerve toxin in its tentacles that can incapacitate its victims, rendering them helpless as they are devoured alive.

And I know Kyle is still alive and aware. I can hear his voice in my head—yelling, cursing, fighting.

Hush, now, boy.
Abaddon croons to Kyle. His voice inside my head is as clear as Kyle’s.
You didn’t really think that would work, did you?

Let her go, you son of a bitch.
I can hear the tears of panic in Kyle’s voice, even if I can’t see it on his blank face.
Haley never did anything to you. She doesn’t deserve this.

You’re right, Kyle Dennis.
Abaddon says coolly.
She deserves love, a career, a family, a life. But I deserve a life, too. And I will not let her go until I get it.
He leans closer to Kyle, bringing him eye to empty, black eye with his captured sister’s soul.
But of the three of you, you are the lucky one. You don’t need Libbi or Aaron to kill you for me to get what is mine. You would have been a suicide, Kyle. You can do the job yourself.

What? No.
I struggle against the hold Abaddon has on me. It’s useless. But I can’t just let this happen. I can’t.
You can’t do that, Kyle. Look at all we’ve done, all we’ve sacrificed to keep you from being marked.

Don’t worry, girl.
Abaddon says softly, like he’s a father comforting a child, and I want to hit him, kick him, hurt him more than I have ever wanted to hurt anyone.
Kyle Dennis was a Reaper, however briefly. His mark is forgiven.

I don’t care.
I say, but Kyle talks over me, his voice too quiet, too controlled.

And you would let Haley go?
he asks Abaddon.

Yes.

What do I have to do?

A cry builds inside of me and I struggle and punch and try to break loose from the trap Abaddon has on my body, but it’s no use. I am the predator’s paralyzed prey.

Abaddon spins Kyle’s useless body around and shoves him outside of the circular clearing and into the thick underbrush. Once he crosses the line, he regains control of his body and staggers forward, but he keeps his feet under him. He swivels and glares at Abaddon.

“You have a weapon, boy.” Abaddon growls from Haley’s mouth. “All you have to do is use it.”

Kyle’s eyes slide to me, shimmery with tears. The corners of his lips, the first lips I ever kissed, pull into a grimace as the Scythe springs into his waiting hand with the familiar metal-on-metal clang that I’ve grown to hate.

“I’m sorry, Libs.” He flips the Scythe upside down, resting the handle on his shoulder. The point presses against his belly. He turns toward Aaron and says, “Don’t let her die, okay?”

“Kyle. What are you doing?” Aaron rushes toward him and says what I wish I could say, but can’t. “Wait. Don’t do this.”

“Too late.” He thrusts the point deep into his middle.

30

The world spins and crumbles around me as Kyle doubles over the blade. A soft sigh escapes him and he collapses to his side in the underbrush. Blood spills from his wound, coloring the dirt, branches, and weeds a sickening crimson. His cheeks pale. His lips get waxy. His eyes go flat. And I can’t look away. God, I can’t look away, because I have no control. I have no control of this.

The Scythe refolds into the ring shape it takes when it’s not in weapon form. But instead of wrapping Kyle’s right thumb, it drops to the ground beside him. The dimming sunlight filters through the trees and catches in its curve, and I can almost hear the evil thing laughing.

Kyle’s overly-bright soul, the soul of a Reaper, collapses in on itself and his light blinks and then goes dark.

Lights out. Cue applause.

I scream. I can’t move my lips or squeeze air through my vocal cords, but that doesn’t stop me from screaming and sobbing on the inside. Tears gather in my eyes and spill over my cheeks. At least the bastard can’t control that. At least I can shed a tear for one of my best friends.

Suddenly, my mother’s tight grip on me releases and I’m shoved forward, out of the grass circle, toward Kyle’s body.

I’m not as graceful as Kyle is—was. Once my body crosses the barrier of the clearing, I trip in the weeds. I throw my weight to the side to avoid landing on Kyle, and come face to face with his lifeless eyes staring at me through the grass.

“I’m sorry, Kyle.” I touch his deceptively warm cheek. I hope he can hear me. He probably can. I am a Reaper, after all. “I’m so, so sorry.”

A sob rolls out of me, but that’s the most I allow myself to do. I can’t grieve for him properly now. Not with Abaddon studying me like a scientist observing the practices of an alien species.

“Now, get his soul.” Abaddon jabs my mother’s finger at Kyle. “Put on the Scythe, remove his soul, and bring it to the Gateway.”

Sticks and leaves crunch under me as I push myself up and stand. I will not let him tower over me like this. He may be stronger, older, more powerful than me, but I will not let him have any more of my dignity than he already has.

“First, you let Haley go.” My whole body shakes, but I keep my voice steady and strong. I have to. For Kyle, and for Haley. “You promised Kyle you’d let her go. He died for her. I won’t remove his soul until you keep your promise.”

“Get his soul, girl. Before it’s too late.” He takes a step closer to me and I back up ten feet. I won’t allow him to catch me again. Not if I can help it.

“Let Haley go.” I raise my chin and curl my hands into fists to hide my quivering fingers.

“Don’t you care about your friend?” He’s using the pseudo-soothing voice with me. “Soon, Kyle will suffer more than he could ever imagine if you don’t remove his soul from his body. Do you want that for him? Pain like hot pokers tearing off his skin, inch by anguished inch?” He pauses and places a pout on my mother’s lips. “I know you don’t want that, Libbi. He’s your friend. Release him from his body before he tries to release himself and destroys his soul in the process.”

“He would want me to make sure Haley’s safe first,” I say, though the image Abaddon has painted in my mind makes me want to vomit.

“Girl. Do as you’re told.” Abaddon’s voice echoes through the trees. It rumbles the ground below me and I jump out of surprise, but I won’t give in. I won’t. Kyle wouldn’t want me to. “Hurry, damn you.”

“No.” I meet his cold black eyes as they stare from my mother’s face. My jaw aches as I grind my teeth together. My fists shake in anger and determination at my sides. “You have no idea how stubborn I can be, Abaddon. But let me tell you… Very. I can be
very
stubborn.”

Those hollow, black eyes widen in what can only be surprise and he takes a step back. He looks toward Aaron, like he’s asking for validation of what I just said.

“It’s true,” Aaron says and I could kiss him. “She’s got to be the most stubborn person I know. If you want Kyle’s soul, you’ll have to let Haley go.”

Those oily eyes drift to me then back to Kyle’s body. There’s longing in the way my mother’s brows tent together, the way she licks her lips.

“I will keep my promise,” he says finally. “I will let the girl go.”

With that, a whip-like snap sounds from Haley. The black in her eyes drains like dirty water and disappears, revealing the big, brown, friendly eyes I’m used to. The oily Shadow snakes from Haley’s feet and slithers back into the Gateway where it belongs.

Haley’s clear eyes dart around the scene and settle on Kyle’s blood-saturated body. Her mouth drops open. I don’t know if it’s to scream, cry, or ask us what happened. She never gets a chance to speak. Her soul jerks back, smearing into a bright line of light as it races along the thin string of her stretched soul to her body lying just outside the circle.

I expect her to shoot up out of the weeds, disoriented maybe, but a whole person. That doesn’t happen. Her feet remain motionless. If it wasn’t for the bright glow coming from her body I’d think Abaddon tricked me.

“Is she okay?” I ask.

“Yes. She is only sleeping. Now. Quickly.” Abaddon lifts Mom’s finger and points to Kyle again. “A deal is a deal. I want the boy’s soul.”

“Okay.” I almost choke on the word. So many emotions rage through me as I squat next to Kyle’s lifeless body. Too many. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I know is I have to do this. I have to remove Kyle’s soul and hand it over to Abaddon, a predator that wants to eat his soul.

Unless Nicholas is wrong about that theory.

He has to be wrong. There’s no way Abaddon’s a predator. He has rules to follow. He gives us free will. Right?

I scoop the Scythe out of the weeds. It slips onto my right thumb with ease and fits perfectly, despite the fact that Kyle and Aaron have much bigger hands than me. The black something shifts inside the metal and a chill runs through me. I’ve only seen the Scythe do that when it was worn by someone else. It’s exponentially creepier when the thing is wrapped around
my
thumb.

What if Nicholas’s multiverse predator theory is right? Can I be Abaddon’s little fishing lure and walk my best friend into the mouth of a hungry beast? If that’s the case, no. I can’t.

But what if that theory is wrong? Can I deny my best friend his afterlife? Can I let his soul, his life, disappear to scraps?

“Quickly, Libbi Piper. He’s almost out of time.” Abaddon shuffles Mom’s feet in the grass and wrings her hands in front of her, the picture of impatience. “He will soon be ruined.”

The Scythe bursts with light as I rest my hand on Kyle’s shoulder. I don’t know which theory is right, but I have no time to think. I have to choose.

“Libbi.” Aaron’s calm voice comes to me from the grass. “He’ll be tortured to death. You have to take him out of his body.”

I close my eyes and imagine Kyle ripping his soul to shreds. Will I hear him scream?

I don’t remember how to remove a soul from a body. Aaron only talked me through it once, with Jon Hilkrest, and he didn’t let me do it myself. He said it was too dangerous to try on my own without some practice. He said I could destroy the soul.

Too dangerous.

My head snaps up and I find Aaron standing a few yards away, his eyes locked on me, his stance tense.

“I-I don’t remember how t-to do it.” Tears stream freely down my face, but I ignore them. There are too many tears to worry about right now. “I-I don’t want t-to hurt him.”

“I’ll help you.” Aaron glances to Abaddon and then back to me. “If he’ll let me.”

“Aaron Shepherd.” Abaddon tilts Mom’s head and his inky eyes settle on Aaron. “Did you not give this girl proper training?”

“No.” Aaron shakes his head. “There wasn’t enough time before—”

“Stupid. Stupid.” Abaddon paces, hands opening and closing at Mom’s sides. “Help her, then. Hurry.”

Three long steps and Aaron is at my side. He squats next to me in the underbrush beside Kyle’s body. His hand slides around mine and the warmth of his skin gives me a burst of confidence.

“You can do this, Libbi. I know you can.” He squeezes my hand gently and then lets it go. “Take his hands.”

My eyes skim down from Kyle’s pallid face to his hands lying limp in a puddle of blood. So much blood. Too much blood. I don’t want to look at it. But I have to.

I wipe the tears away with my sleeve and scoop his limp hands up from the ground.

“Good.” Aaron uses his teacher voice and, for once, it doesn’t annoy me. “Now, use the Scythe to connect to the Death Plan. Your clock. Do you remember how to do that?”

I nod and close my eyes. The Scythe’s blinding light pierces my eyelids, but I can’t let that distract me. I focus on the red, glowing numbers of the digital clock inside my mind.

“Do you have it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel the pull of the Scythe in your chest?”

The familiar uncomfortable ache tugs deep in my chest. It squirms and pulls inside of me, like a chained animal trying to escape.

“Yes,” I say.

“Hurry, child, hurry.” Abaddon’s deep growl penetrates my concentration. “I can feel him growing cold from here.”

“I can only go so fast, okay? I’m new at this,” I snap. I don’t care who Abaddon is, or whose soul he happens to be using as a Shadow, he needs to stop distracting me.

“Ignore him.” Aaron’s firm, sure hand grips my shoulder and he leans in close. “Listen to my voice and pretend he’s not here. It’s just you, me, and Kyle. Okay?”

“Easier said than done,” I say, “but I’ll try.”

“Good. Let that feeling in your chest travel down to your hands.” He shifts his weight beside me and I hear him swallow. “It feels really weird at first, like bugs crawling over your skin, but you have to let it happen. Don’t let go of him.”

Almost as soon as he says it, a creepy-crawly feeling slithers across my chest and skitters down my arms. My back curls and my shoulders roll with the heebie-jeebies, but I don’t drop Kyle’s hands. I let the feeling—like a million spiders—slide down my arms to my hands.

“I feel it, Aaron. It’s in my hands.”

“All right. Push it out of your fingertips. Let it climb into his body, and wrap around his soul, and when you feel it has a good hold of him, pull.”

“How will I know it has a good hold?”

“That’s the tricky part, Libbi.” He says it calmly, but I can hear the tension underlying his words. “I can’t tell you. It’s something you feel.”

“So I have to guess?” I open my eyes and glare at him. Abaddon grumbles, but I ignore his impatience. “The integrity of my best friend’s soul relies on a guess?”

“Not exactly.” He tilts his head back toward Kyle. “I can’t explain what it feels like. But you’ll know when it happens.”

I force a sarcastic puff of air from my nose. “Right.”

“Well, you won’t feel it if you don’t pay attention.” He nods to Kyle’s body again. I turn back to Kyle and close my eyes.

The bugs continue to crawl across my back and down my arms, like long lines of ants under my skin. Aaron is right. It’s hard to explain, but I can feel it leaving my fingertips and wriggling into Kyle. They’re like tiny extensions of me, weaving a fabric of web, or shroud, or some other creepy thing I can’t describe. As they move along, the fabric-like-stuff loops, twists, and coils with Kyle’s soul.

Something tightens inside of him and my eyes pop open. His soul surges with light, just like Rosie’s and Jon’s did when Aaron collected their souls. I must be doing something right.

I lean back, ready to yank Kyle’s soul out of his body, but Aaron touches my arm gently.

“Not yet.” Aaron studies me with intense eyes. “Wait for it.”

“Wait for what?” I say, and then I feel it. Something clicks like a lock turning and I know I have Kyle’s soul as surely as I know my name is Libbi. Oh, my God. I have it. I have Kyle’s soul.

Aaron must see the change in my face because almost as soon as I feel the strange click he says, “Now, Libbi. Pull.”

I lean back and Kyle’s limp hands lift up.

“No,” he says patiently. “You’re lifting his arms. Lift his soul.” Aaron nudges my elbow down and I relax with Kyle’s hands still in my grasp. “Try again.”

“Hurry, hurry, hurry…” Abaddon chants softly.

I close my eyes and tune Abaddon out, take a deep breath and try again.

This time I focus on the tight knit that’s formed between Kyle’s soul and whatever the stuff is that came out of my fingertips. I tug tentatively. It feels strong. I lean back again, keeping my focus on his soul and the bond between us.

My fingers slip through his like his hands are made of smoke as I pull, but I still feel something cool against my palm. It curls over the backs of my fingers. I glance down. The glowing arms of Kyle’s soul lead from his body, making him look as if he has four arms: two brilliant and held in my hands and two pale and limp on the ground.

His fingers squeeze mine as Kyle sits up out of his body. I help him to his feet. His eyes meet mine and he tilts his head in mild confusion.

“Is it real this time, Libs?” he says. “Am I dead?”