Death Becomes Me (Call Me Grim Book 2) (8 page)

I roll back onto the pillow.

The soft shadow of the curtains makes an interesting striped pattern on the ceiling, dark then light, like a wave of moonlight. The pattern undulates with the breeze from the open sliding glass door. In our haste to get to the bed, we forgot to shut it.

“So, have you ever…you know?” I whisper to the waves on the ceiling.

“What?” He turns, his lips curled in a smirk. “Had sex?”

“Yeah.” I meet his goofy grin with my no-bullshit glare.

The smile disappears from his face and he turns back to the ceiling.

“Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?”

“Yes,” I say, then a thought crosses my mind. “Why? Did you do it a lot?” That would explain why he’s not being pushy, I guess. If before he became a Reaper he’d slept with half of Carroll Falls, he wouldn’t be in a rush to lose his virginity. But it’s still been a really long time. He must miss it.

Aaron barks a laugh. “I’ve never been that confident with girls.”

“I doubt that matters,” I say under my breath. With his jet-black hair, full lips, and piercing blue eyes, I bet half the girls in town threw themselves at him. He probably didn’t need any confidence.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” There’s a laugh of amusement in his voice. “What kind of a guy do you think I am?”

“The kind who would say to his girlfriend ‘are you sure you want me to answer that’ when she asks him if he’s had sex,” I say.

“I didn’t say that because I’ve slept around.” Even in the semi-darkness, I can see his cheeks flush crimson. “I said it because I thought if you knew, it might make you uncomfortable.”

“Because you have.” I study his face. “Had sex, I mean.”

“Yes.” He keeps his gaze locked on the ceiling.

“Who?” I sit up straight and fold my legs under me. “Do I know her?”

“Umm…yeah.” Aaron glances over at me. He takes a deep breath then presses his lips together, like he’s about to say a name that starts with the letter M. I push my hand to his lips, stopping the name before it forms.

“Never mind.” I shudder at the image of Aaron and Mrs. Margie Lutz—with her wrinkles, heavily hair-sprayed hair, and multiple chins—entangled in a naked embrace. “I don’t want to know.”

“I figured you wouldn’t.” Aaron shrugs as he relaxes back into his pillow.

All of the times I envisioned my first time with a guy, I never thought I’d have to compete with a woman old enough to be my grandmother. The rational part of my brain knows that when they were together, they were the same age. And I’m sure they were in love. I can see it in his eyes when he talks about her. And now she’s a happily married woman, and totally not a threat. But, still. The thought creeps me out.

“So, forty years ago,” I say. “And nobody since then.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Nobody since then,” he confirms, his eyes unreadable. He fidgets with the hem of the blanket and I wonder if he’s just as nervous about this as I am.

Still, I can’t let this go. My throat clenches as I open my mouth to speak, but I push through. I need to know.

“I bet you miss it though, don’t you? Having a girlfriend.” I focus on the open sliding glass door and the curtains billowing there. I can’t look at him. I’m afraid of what I might see in his eyes. “You’d probably date just about anybody, wouldn’t you?”

And there it is. What I’ve been worried about since Bobby pointed it out to me in his attic has finally flopped out of my mouth. The room is quiet as the words thicken the air around us.

“Is that what you think?” Aaron pushes himself up on his elbow. I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to meet them. “Libbi?” He touches my chin and turns my face to him, but I pointedly look over his shoulder. “Is that what you think? That I’m just interested in you because it’s been a long time?”

I shrug. The headboard behind him gets a little wavy as tears gather in my lashes.

“Bobby said—”

“Bobby?” Aaron cuts me off. “You’re getting upset over something that jerk Bobby said? Really?”

“He had a good point.” I meet his incredulous stare. “He said you just want me because I’m the only one you
can
have. And he’s right. I
am
the only living girl you’ve been able to touch in forty years. You can’t deny it’s true.”

“It’s not true. Bobby has no idea of my feelings for you, Libbi. None at all.” He takes my face in both of his hands. His eyes catch mine and I don’t look away. I can’t. They are like whirlpools sucking me in. “I could have fallen for any girl I’ve reaped over the years. But I didn’t. I fell for you. I had no intention of doing that. I didn’t want to do that. It totally messed everything up, actually, but it still happened. Is happening. And I can’t help it or stop it.” He swipes away a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “That first day, when I met you at your art show, I walked away when I realized that painting was yours. Remember?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to know why?”

I silently nod.

“Because I knew I shouldn’t get to know you. I shouldn’t get to know someone as beautiful and talented and passionate as you. I could feel myself falling for you, right then and there, and I knew it was dangerous. For both of us.” He leans closer and places his hand over my abdomen. His warmth seeps through the thick terrycloth robe and my insides quiver. “So I decided to leave you alone, collect your soul, and take you to the Gateway when you died. I planned to ask the next teenager scheduled to die in Carroll Falls to take my place because I was afraid to get to know you.”

“What made you change your mind?” My voice is small.

“The next day, I found my sister’s suicide note sitting on her desk in her study.” His gaze drops to the bed. His fingers slide absentmindedly over my middle. “Before then, I had a strong suspicion she was going to kill herself, but I didn’t know for sure. And I didn’t know when she would do it. But the note told me everything I needed to know. And I knew I couldn’t wait for the next teen death to give up my job for a chance to talk to her. You were my last chance, Libbi, whether I liked it or not.”

“So you took it.”

“Yeah.” He picks at a loose thread, his fingers working it furiously. I’m afraid he might rip it and damage the expensive robe.

“I understand.” I lay my hand on his and he stops picking. “I would have done the same thing.”

Aaron turns his hand over so we are palm to palm and weaves his fingers between mine. He massages a soft, slow circle on the back of my hand with his thumb and I wait for him to move slowly up my arm, or over to my hip, but he doesn’t. He just holds my hand.

We lie there for what feels like forever, listening to the sounds of the city through the open sliding glass door. Eventually, Aaron’s breathing slows with sleep. It doesn’t take long for me to join him.

9

Something wakes me. I don’t know what it is. The hotel room is bathed in sunlight, but it’s quiet. The ticking clock on the nightstand and Aaron’s rhythmic breathing are the only sounds I hear.

I scan the room. Aaron must have shifted and shook the bed, or maybe a fly, let in when we left the sliding glass door open last night, landed on my face. I don’t know, but something woke me up.

The clock catches my eye again. Its ornate brass hands tell me it’s ten minutes after one in the afternoon. It’s wrong. It’s actually twelve minutes and thirty-eight seconds after one. Obviously, the time-telling power continues to tick away in my head. Even without the Scythe and access to the Death Plan, I am always, at least partially, aware of the time.

It’s slipping away. Counting down.

I will find you. It’s only a matter of time.

I almost smack myself in the forehead. I was so focused on getting the heck out of Carroll Falls alive with our powers intact, and then escaping the freak-show that is Bobby’s niece, that I lost track of what day it is.

It’s quarter after one on Saturday afternoon. It feels like ten years have passed, but it’s only been ten days since I met Aaron for the first time at the art show. And almost exactly one week since I accepted his offer to take over as Carroll Fall’s next Grim Reaper and made a promise to train for seven days.

In less than ten minutes, that training period is over.

Time’s up.

I shouldn’t be sleeping with my boyfriend in an extravagant hotel room, hundreds of miles from home. I should be getting ready to kill him. Aaron should be preparing to slide the Reaper’s Scythe onto my right thumb so I can push him over the railing of Jumpers Bridge and take over for him.

But that’s Kyle’s job now. He has the Scythe and the responsibility that goes along with it. And he has no idea where we are. We should be safe.

I think.

I hope.

In just a few minutes, I’ll know. The loophole that was created when Aaron and I saved Kyle from committing suicide, subsequently offering him Aaron’s job, will be tested. And I have no idea what’s going to happen. Maybe this is what Abaddon meant when he said it was only a matter of time before I was his again. Maybe he knew all along.

Nothing’s going to happen,
I try to convince myself.
You’re being paranoid.
But as I listen to Aaron’s soft snore and feel his heart thump under my hand, I’m aware of every second tick-tick-ticking away.

“Aaron?” I nudge his side with my elbow.

“Hmm …” He peeks at me through puffy eyelids then squeezes them closed again. “Too bright.”

“Aaron, wake up.” I elbow him again. He jerks away from me, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Come on. It’s important.”

I don’t know if it’s the desperation in my voice or that I’m annoying him, but he opens his eyes and says, “What’s up?”

“Do you know what day it is?” I sit up and bring my knees to my chest, pulling the covers up over my legs as I do.

“Saturday.” Aaron says it like he’s reciting the time of day, as if there’s no significance at all.

“Right. Saturday.” I wrap my arms around my knees, hugging them close. “In two minutes and twenty-two seconds it will be exactly one week since I accepted your job. My training period is almost up.” My tongue sticks to the roof of my dry mouth. “And I’m scared.”

That gets him moving. He bolts into a sitting position and swipes a hand down his face. The sleepiness has disappeared when his hand drops away.

“Don’t be scared, Libbi.” He reaches for me and I grasp his hand like it’s a rope and I’m dangling off the edge of a cliff.

“Do you think something’s going to happen to us?”

“Nothing’s going to happen.” He slides across the bed and his hip nudges mine. “It can’t. Kyle has the Scythe now.”

“But maybe the Scythe has nothing to do with it.” I grip the bedspread so hard my fingers ache as the clock ticks on the table and in my brain. “Maybe it’s the promise I made to you and the clock in our heads that determines what happens. Maybe it’s all a matter of time.”

The words make me shiver. Aaron pries my clawed hand off the bedspread. His fingers twine with mine and he gives me a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise,” he says, but his palm is clammy against mine. He may say he’s not worried, but his hand gives him away.

As if to prove I’m right to be nervous, the place where our hands touch suddenly blazes.

Aaron flinches and yanks away, as if it burns, though it doesn’t. Maybe he thought if he pulled away, the light between us would blink out or disperse. It doesn’t. The sliver grows to fill the gap created by his sudden movement and forms a glowing blue ball of electricity between us.

The bubble grows in a sudden explosion, encompassing us faster than either of us can move. It zaps around us. Traps us. Holds us. The air inside the ball buzzes with energy and smells like lightening.

“What’s happening?” My voice sounds muffled and distant. “Is this normal?”

“I don’t know.” Aaron looks around at the blue ball of light surrounding us. It casts an eerie glow over him, making his skin appear pale, his lips purple, and his azure eyes gray and lifeless. “Charlotte gave me the Scythe and I ki—she died before my time was up.”

He raises a hand. When his fingers graze the glowing wall, the bubble collapses in on itself. It disappears as quickly as it appeared and leaves me with a profound sense of déjà vu.

This has happened before. Except last time we were on Jumpers Bridge and I had just accepted Aaron’s job. That time the ball of light marked the beginning of my training period, and when it disappeared Aaron and I were equal. Before the light had surrounded us, my soul was dull and his was blindingly bright, but after the ball of light was gone, our souls were the same and we could share powers.

That was what happened last time.

Not this time.

Silence. Not even the hum of traffic from the open window reaches me, though the soft breeze lifts the ends of my hair. Aaron sits stone-still, eyes locked on me.  The sounds of the hotel room slowly return, starting with the tick of the clock.

The damned clock. I hate it.

I hate it because something has changed. Aaron’s soul has lost its brilliance. And I’m bright. So very bright.

I hold my torch of a hand in front of my face and examine the front and then the back. Aaron touches my palm and folds his fingers down between mine. The stark contrast of our souls terrifies me. My skin radiates as if I’ve dipped my hand in liquid neon. His dull soul is lost in the brilliance of mine. He studies our joined hands for a moment, nods once, and drops them to the bed between us.

I feel strong, more powerful than I have ever felt in my life. But the feeling is a lie. I’m not powerful. I’m completely out of control. The clock mocks us as it ticks and tocks and races on and there is nothing I can do to stop it or slow it. I may feel strong, but I am completely powerless against time.

I don’t know what all of this means for us. Aaron’s the dimmest I have ever seen him. For non-reapers, a dull soul is a soon-to-be-dead soul and he’s as dull as I was after I was supposed to be squished by Jason’s truck.

“How do you feel?” I ask. “Do you feel different?”

Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’ve just become a full-fledged Reaper and the change in our souls reflects that. Maybe nothing has changed for him and it’s not as bad as I think.

“Yes,” he says simply.

My hope disintegrates.

“What’s different?” I ask.

“I can’t see your soul, and I don’t know what time it is anymore.”

Time. Ever since I accepted Aaron’s job, I’ve known the exact time. Down to the millisecond. It was one of the first powers I noticed and one of the things Aaron harped on the most. Because being on time is essential for a Reaper. Being late means risking a painful descent into nonexistence for the soul you’re supposed to collect and usher to the Gateway. For a Reaper, lateness is not only rude, it’s cruel.

And Aaron has lost his ability to know the time. What else has he lost?

I touch his face. His stubbly jawline scratches my fingertips as they linger on the brown remnants of the bruise there. Somehow, seeing the faint reminder of what I did to him the day he saved my life for the first time makes things so much worse.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Why?” His eyes widen with surprise. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Just because.”

Sunlight spills through the sheer curtains, illuminating a stripe of floating dust in the air. It splits the bed in two, lighting half of Aaron’s face and casting the other half in shadow.

He smiles and I have to force myself to smile back. I hadn’t realized it until now, but since we left Carroll Falls, his smiles have been different. They’ve been brighter, easier, full of humor. But now, the smile on his lips is the same as the smiles he used to give me in Carroll Falls—like he’s trying too hard to mold his face into a mask of happiness. His mouth may be stretched in a grin, but his eyes are strained and worried and sad.

He strokes my cheek but there is restraint in the soft touch of his fingertips. That’s something else that has been missing in him since we left Carroll Falls: restraint.

“What does this mean, Aaron?” My words float with the dust particles in the air.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m normal.” He gives me another small smile, but it’s just as fake as the first one.

“Right.” I nod and try to take on his nonchalant tone. “You’re right. Maybe you’re just normal.” I scoot to the edge of the bed and stand. “Let’s test that theory.”

“Okay.” Aaron slides to the end of the bed and swings his feet over the edge.

The sun warms my back as I stand in front of him and take his hands in mine. “Stand up,” I say, and he does. “Now, try to take on your Grim Reaper form.”

Aaron nods and closes his eyes. At first, his features are relaxed. But as the seconds tick in my head his brow furrows. The muscles in his jaw tense and his face contorts with frustration as sweat gathers at his hairline.

“I can’t do it,” he says finally and sighs.

“What about going through things?” A tinge of desperation colors my voice. “You always said that’s the easiest thing to do.”

He pivots and sinks his hand into the soft mattress. It depresses with the pressure of his weight, creating a dimple in the fabric, but it doesn’t give. His hand remains stubbornly on top of the blanket.

“I’m normal, Libbi.” He straightens and faces me. There’s no defeat in his voice. No sadness, or fear, or worry. It’s just a fact. Aaron is no longer a Reaper. He’s a regular guy with the dull soul of someone that should have been kicking it in the Gateway with Abaddon and the Blackness a long time ago.

“You can’t be normal.” The panic I’ve somehow managed to suppress since I woke up explodes in my chest like a grenade. “You can still see me and hear me. If you’re normal, I’d be invisible to you.”

“I should be dead.” Aaron’s so much calmer than he should be. I want to shake him. “The dead, soon-to-be dead, and should-be dead can all see Reapers. That’s how I managed to train you.”

“No. You don’t understand.” My voice squeaks. “You
can’t
be normal. How will we know when Abaddon is near? I don’t know how it feels, Aaron. I don’t know anything. How are we supposed to keep ahead of him? We need you to
not
be normal.”

I fling my arms in fear and frustration and Aaron catches one of my wrists before it falls back to my side.

“It’s okay, Libbi.” He pulls me to him. “Really, it’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’m still here.”

He wraps me in an embrace, pressing my cheek to his chest as he smooths my hair down my back. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of him, but it’s not the freshly turned dirt and dead flowers aroma that I’m used to. He smells different. Good—sweet, with a touch of musk—but different.

“I may not be a Reaper anymore,” he says softly, “but I remember what to do. I can still teach you.”

“For how long?” I pull back and gaze up into his eyes. “Your soul is as dull as mine was when I was already supposed to be dead.”

“It is?” He glances down at his body and then back up at me.

I nod slowly.

“But I’m not dead.”

“No.”

“If my soul is that dull, I should be dead. But I’m not.” His eyes twinkle in the first real smile he’s given me all day. “Maybe a Reaper’s death isn’t postponed. Maybe Abaddon wants the new Reaper to kill the old one because their death isn’t rescheduled at all. It’s cancelled.”

“Maybe.” I try to sound as enthusiastic as he does, but I can’t dispel the feeling of dread that settles on my shoulders like a granite block.

He’s probably right, but that doesn’t change anything. He’s still a normal guy and I’m still his powerful, yet clueless, student. And we are still on the run from the freaking Grim Reaper. Whether he’s scheduled to die or not, without his powers, we are screwed.