Death Becomes Me (Call Me Grim Book 2) (5 page)

“That’s go—”

Bobby takes over Kyle’s body before I get the chance to finish my sentence.

“Well, this has been a barrel of monkeys, but I don’t think I can hold us here much longer,” Bobby says as the sucking sensation tugs at my chest. It’s weak at first, but getting stronger with each passing second.

“I’ll keep in touch,” I say just before my soul is ripped from Kyle’s body.

The front porch stretches like pulled taffy and then disappears in a flash of light. A loud sucking sound fills my head. It’s what I’d imagine getting stuck in a vacuum cleaner would sound like. We spin and stretch through the void. A voice mumbles close by, but the vacuum noise is so loud I can’t be sure what it says. I strain my ears, trying to make out the words, but they’re lost in the wind.

I snap back into my own body like a rubber band. The sweltering heat of the attic slaps me and I stagger back. Bobby grips my shoulders, steadying me, but I think he’s the one who needs steadying. Shallow breaths puff from him in fast bursts. Sweat collects at his temple and runs in rivulets down his pale cheeks. His hands shake.

“Are you okay?” I reach for him. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No, I’m fine.” His tremulous voice is almost too soft to hear. He swipes his sleeve over his damp face and smiles. “Traveling takes a lot out of us Reapers.”

“Really?” I say. “I feel fine.”

“Because you rode my power like it’s a horse.” He winks and grins. “That really takes a toll on an old guy like me.”

“Thank you.” I smile up at him and hope he understands I’m grateful for more than just the time he gave me.

“You are most welcome.”

Bobby keeps a tight grip on my shoulders as he takes a few deep breaths. The color slowly returns to his cheeks. He squeezes my arms and his dark-brown eyes sparkle like they did earlier in the diner, as if he could eat me up with a side of gravy. Chills roll across my shoulders and down my arms, and not the good kind.

His arms slide around my waist as he pulls me against him. His hands become a bit friendly, slipping down to rest a little too close to my butt. I lean back as far as I can but he bends with me, pressing me closer.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Miss Libbi.”

“Thanks.” I try to pry his hands off my butt and wiggle free. “But I’m not interested.”

“Oh, come on. I did something nice for you,” he says into the hair at my temple. “It’s only fair you do something nice for me. Right?” His lips graze my skin. “It’s been so long since I’ve touched a girl who wasn’t dead. A kiss would be just grand.”

He’s impossibly fast. His lips smack into mine with such force my head snaps back.

But I’m fast too. My fist connects with his cheek so hard I hear the slap of flesh on flesh echo through the attic. He leaps back and rubs his rapidly swelling cheek.

“Why’d you do that?” Blood colors the corner of his mouth and stains his teeth. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I just wanted a kiss, is all.”

“I said no.” I shake out my punching hand. The knuckles ache in the best way possible. “And I have a boyfriend.”

“Who?” His sharp eyes bore into me as he wipes blood from his chin. “Aaron?”

I don’t reply. He knows damn well who I’m talking about. We already had this discussion at breakfast.

“You’re kidding, right?” He laughs like I’m a punch-line and he’s the only one who gets the joke. “Libbi, sweetheart, I’ve seen the way he is with you. Heck, I can’t say I’m not guilty myself. Any guy in our position would…” He shakes his head slowly, his eyes swimming with pseudo-sympathy. “Think about it, darlin’. Aaron’s only with you ‘cause you’re the only girl he can have. He has no choice in the matter.”

His words punch me harder than any fist could. I can’t speak. I can’t even breathe.

I’m instantly taken back to a time not long ago. Tucked into the corner of the upstairs hallway of the house in Carroll Falls, I listened as another of my parents’ many arguments drifted up the stairs. It was the last one I’d witness.

“We were too young, Di,” Dad said as something slammed in the kitchen. “What was I supposed to do? Leave you pregnant and alone at seventeen?”

“So now it’s Libbi’s fault?” Mom said. A pause. “That’s just great, Jay. Blame your affair on your daughter.”

I hold back the tears I feel stinging my eyes. No way I’m letting Bobby see how much his words affected me.

Because he’s right. I am the first girl Aaron touched in forty years. I’m the only girl he
can
touch without my ability to interact with the living, an ability I can only share with him because he made me his apprentice. And he himself said he was lonely before he met me. Whether he cares about me or not is irrelevant. He has no other choices. If he wants a girlfriend, he’s pretty much stuck with me. No, trapped with me. Just like Dad was trapped with Mom because of me.

No. Aaron cares about me. I know he does. And I care about him. Bobby’s an ass and he’s wrong. He has to be.

5

The hinges on the attic door squeak and the door thumps against the wall.

“Libbi?” Aaron calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Are you decent?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I say, though I’m not fine. Not at all.

I can’t believe a jerk like Bobby saw a problem with our relationship that I didn’t see. A problem that hadn’t even crossed my mind until right now. How could I have been so blind?

The floorboards creak as Aaron climbs the stairs.

“We’re over here,” I say, once I know he’s reached the top. I pray he can’t hear the tremor in my voice.

Aaron pokes his head around the end of an antique wardrobe with the door broken off and hanging by one hinge. His shaggy, wet locks sweep his forehead and frame his angular, clean-shaven face. The fresh aroma of shampoo briefly overpowers the stink of mothballs in the attic.

The corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile when he sees me and he steps into the space. Bobby’s clothes pull a little too tight in some places, but he looks good. Clean. Fresh. His smile quickly fades when his gaze drops to my hands. I’m still rubbing my stinging knuckles.

Aaron glances at Bobby’s blood-streaked face and back at me and my sore hand.

“What happened?” he says slowly.

“She hit me for no good reason.” Bobby spits blood onto the floor. “That’s what happened.”

Aaron’s eyes lock on Bobby. “What happened?” he repeats, then adds, “Libbi?” His jaw bulges with tension.

“Bobby just got a little too friendly and doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘no.’ That’s all.” I bristle.

Aaron’s brow furrows, his gaze trained on Bobby. He doesn’t move and he doesn’t say anything. I touch his arm. His muscles twitch under my hand. Growing rapidly in his eyes is the desire to punch a hole through Bobby’s face.

“It’s okay, Aaron.” I make a show of rubbing my knuckles again. “I took care of it.”

“Yeah. She took care of it, all right.” Bobby smooths down his mussed-up hair and stands up straight. “She’s insane. Do you hear me? Your girl is an ungrateful loon.”

“You better watch what you say, there, pal,” Aaron seethes.

“I was nice enough to use my Scythe to take her to see her friend and brother for a few minutes.” Bobby obviously hasn’t taken Aaron’s hint to back off. “Nearly kicked my rear doing it, too.”

“What are you talking about?” Aaron says, but Bobby continues as if he didn’t hear him.

“All I wanted in return was a little smooch for my trouble. And she sucker-punched me.”

“You deserved it,” I snap.

“Aww, come on.” He turns toward Aaron, pleading. “You know what it’s like to want a little kiss once in a while. A man would do anything, right?” He wipes blood from his lip with the back of his hand and frowns down at the smear. “Isn’t that why you’re with her? I mean, she’s not even that pretty.”

Aaron lunges. Teeth bared and eyes hard, his features twist with primal fury.

I never truly believed Aaron could kill anyone in cold blood, even after he told me himself he’d murdered his step-father for killing his mother. But I see it now. There is no doubt in my mind, if Aaron reaches Bobby, he will rip him to shreds.

I jump in front of him. My palms slap his chest.

“Stop. It’s not worth it.” I shove him back. “You could kill the little creep. Do you want to be Millersville’s next Reaper? Is that what you want? Because it’s probably what
he
wants. He probably wants to get you so pissed off you kill him and have to take over as Reaper.” I shove Aaron again. “He’s not worth it, Aaron. Let’s just go. Okay?”

Aaron pushes against me, but I widen my stance and hold him back. After a moment, his blue eyes pull away from Bobby. His snarl disappears as he scans my face. He relaxes against my hands.

“You’re right.” He shakes his head and steps back. The anger drains from his eyes. “He’s not worth it.”

“That’s right.” Bobby sneers. “Let your girl boss you around. I can see who wears the pants around here. Wuss.”

I whirl around. Aaron’s rage and his murderous history are pushed from my mind by my own rage and murderous potential. My face burns and my fists ball at my sides.

“Well, since this girl just happened to kick your ass a minute ago, you should probably shut your mouth.”

Bobby rolls his eyes. He pushes his shirt sleeves up his arms, one and then the other, like he’s Popeye or something. All he needs is a pipe and a can of spinach.

“You caught me in a weak moment, sweetheart.” He winks at me. Actually winks at me. “I’d like to see you try it again.”

“Oh, you would, would you?”

This time, I lunge at him. I pull my fist back, ready to sink my knuckles into his flesh for a second time. I don’t care that my hand’s still sore and probably bruised from the first time I tried to introduce the front of his face to the back of his skull. There is nothing I want more than to hammer that smirk right off of his face.

Aaron catches my elbow mid-swing.

“Wait,” he says, and I do. Not because I’m having second thoughts about my feelings for Bobby and his arrogant smile, but because of the panic behind that one word.

“What?” I say. Fingers of terror trail over my spine. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you feel that?” Aaron tilts his head. One hand slips to his chest and covers his heart. “Abaddon’s close.”

“Really?” I say. Then I feel something. I’m not sure if it’s what Aaron feels, it’s not the same as the painful tug of a Scythe when it connects to the Death Plan. It’s a stir in my chest and a drop in my stomach, like the first hill of a rollercoaster. Like dread. My stomach shrinks and forces what’s left of my breakfast into my throat.

Aaron and I turn together and face the Millersville Reaper.

“I’m sorry.” Bobby throws his hands up in front of his face. The smug look he wore two seconds ago has morphed into a grimace. “I had to tell him.”

“You bastard,” Aaron says through gritted teeth. “I trusted you. She didn’t, but I did. I defended you.”

“Listen. He’s got my great-grandniece,” Bobby says and for once he sounds genuine. He bites his lower lip and his beady eyes dart back and forth between us. “He’s holding her, using her as a Shadow, for god sake. A seven-year-old kid. All because of me. I figured if I turned you two in, it would make up for all the crap I’ve done. Maybe he’d let her go.” Bobby runs a hand down the side of his suddenly haggard face. Now, he looks every second of his one hundred years. “She’s just a little girl.”

Aaron drops his hands and his fists uncurl at his sides. A scowl of disbelief wrinkles his brow as he stares at Bobby. But I couldn’t care less about the traitorous jerk. My attention is on the window. Or, more specifically, what I see through it.

“Um … Aaron?” I nudge him and point to the circular attic window.

Across the street, the darkness beneath the trees acts as camouflage, but I still see her. The shadowy figure stands alone, almost hidden in the woods. Black hair hangs limp around her gray, gaunt face. She stares at the house with impossibly large, haunted eyes. Eyes that are so large and dark there can’t be any white in them at all. Like someone filled her eyes with ink. Or tore them out.

Bobby swallows hard.

“Yeah, that there is Annalise,” he says. “Not as cute as she used to be.”

The girl takes a step toward the house. Her little leg jerks up and out, like she’s not quite in control of her body. She lurches into the sun. Her oily shadow coils and twitches as it stretches impossibly behind her on the sidewalk. It’s way longer than a shadow should be. And smack dab in the middle of that shadow runs a thin thread of bright light.

“Crap.” Aaron’s pale cheeks go slack. He disappears from beside me and reappears in front of Bobby. His fingers dig into his upper arms.

“Sit down,” he says as he shoves Bobby into the rocking chair a little more gently than I would have. I would have pushed him so hard the double-crossing jerk’s head would have cracked against the back. Aaron has way more patience than me. “Get our stuff, Libbi. Quick.”

I don’t know what it is about the little zombie-girl that frightens him, but I don’t question it. The sharp tone of his voice tells me the shit has most definitely hit the fan. I run to the other side of the attic as Aaron continues talking to Bobby in a soft yet threatening tone.

“I said, how’d you do it, asshole? Show me.” Aaron suddenly yells as I scoop up my purse, his shoes, and his dirty clothes.

“I can’t. If I do it again, it might kill me.” Bobby shouts back.

Aaron answers him, but his words have returned to mumbles. I slip my feet into my tennis shoes. It takes longer than I’d like to work the backs of my tied shoes up over my heels. I hurry back.

When I come around the corner Aaron is on his knees, head bent forward and eyes closed, as if he’s in prayer. He’s on the floor in front of Bobby with his right hand grasped in his. Bobby’s limp body tilts to the side. His eyes roll back in his head and a drop of blood makes a slow trail from his ear to his chin.

Bobby’s Scythe blazes on his thumb and a halo of light surrounds them both. There is no sound. No birds chirp outside. No movement in the house at all, but that feeling of dread in my chest feels ten times worse. I glance out the window. The little girl is gone.

“Aaron?” I reach through the shimmering ball of light and touch his shoulder.

He doesn’t budge.

A soft thump in the house below. I jump.

“Aaron.” I shake him. “We’ve got to go.”

Nothing. No response at all. It’s as if he’s a statue stuck inside a bubble of light.

The power of the Scythe pulses around them, through them, through me. It climbs up my arm and wraps around my neck, pulling me into it. And I do the only thing I can do. I let it take me.

The Scythe’s light fully envelops me and I lose focus of the attic. Something crashes inside the house, but the noise is muffled and distant. It doesn’t seem real.

But Aaron is real. I can feel him. He’s close. I shout his name.

His eyes snap open and fix on me.

“We’ve got to go.” I yell.

He nods. Finally. He lets go of Bobby’s hand and the bubble of light collapses back into the Scythe with a sound like a bullwhip. Bobby slumps forward and slides off the chair. His face whacks the attic floor with a thud but he doesn’t even flinch. He’s out cold.

Whatever the hell that was all about will have to wait. Now, we have to find a way out of this attic.

“She’s in the house,” I say.

“I know.” He snatches his shoes from my hands and shoves his sockless feet into them. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“How? She’s downstairs. We’ll run right into her.”

He glances at the wall behind him and shakes his head. Nope. Can’t get out that way. He turns back around and points straight at the wall of junk that blocks the expansive attic.

“We run through all of that,” he says. “And when we get outside, we fly.”

As huge as the attic is, it looks like a postage stamp when I think of using it as a runway. Plus, I have to run through all of that stuff? I really wish I had more time to practice the Reaper powers before we left Carroll Falls. It would have been useful.

“That’s not enough of a head start for me, Aaron,” I say. “Still a novice, here.”

The attic door squeaks. A solid thump on the bottom step.

“No time for a better plan.” He seizes my hand. “Whatever happens, don’t let her touch you. Got it?”

I nod once.

And we run. Back the way we came. Straight through the wardrobe with the broken door. Through the leaning towers of boxes and mountains of clothes and papers and trash. Toward Bobby’s bedroom.

The attic stairs appear in the middle of the rubbish. We have to pass them if we want enough speed to fly when we reach the wall at the other end of the house.

An ashen hand slaps down on the railing at the top of the staircase. Annalise’s greasy, dark head pops up above the railing. Her head rotates. The skin on her neck cracks and greenish-yellow fluid leaks from the wound. Her eyes find us.

I was right. There are no eyes there. Just inky-black orbs.

“What are you doing?” The voice that oozes from her throat is deep, cold, menacing. But there’s no mistaking the surprise in it. “You don’t belong here.”

Oily tendrils of blackness unfurl from the little girl’s shadow like tentacles. They spill over the railing and crawl across the floor in front of us. The coppery scent of decomposition fills the space. Whoever she used to be, she’s a corpse now. A reanimated, rotting corpse. Mothballs suddenly don’t smell so bad.

“Jump.” Aaron says and I do. We sail over whatever it is that seeps from her shadow as we sprint past her.

Annalise reaches for my arm. I jerk my elbow across my body before she touches me and the breeze from her fingertips grazes my skin.

It was just the wind that touched me, I’m sure, but for a moment my vision blurs. A flash of light replaces the junk-filled attic, then pale, twisted, writhing bodies. Blood. Broken bones. Pain. So much pain. And fear.

Just as quickly as it came, the vision disappears. I almost lose my breakfast on the floor, but I somehow manage to keep running. We barrel through another mountain of junk—more furniture and boxes—and into Bobby’s bedroom.