To Catch Her Death (The Grim Reality Series Book 1) (12 page)

I rolled my shoulders and cocked my head side to side, suddenly feeling reenergized. If the charm did have magic maybe it could give me an edge on the stupid obstacle course. Not taking any chances that Nate might call cheating if he saw the raven charm, I slipped it into the neck of my sweatshirt. Maybe there was hope yet. I slammed the locker closed, squared my shoulders, and strode back into the gym.

Nate glanced up from his cell phone, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You okay?”

“Great. Why?” Acting natural or the ability to lie weren’t skills I’d been gifted with. Most of the time I over compensated. Usually my eyes were too round and innocent or my voice raised an octave. “Don’t I look okay?”

I’d totally set myself up for one of his insults but it was a small sacrifice if he didn’t figure out I wore the charm. For some reason Nate didn’t take the bait. Instead he nodded. “You look good.”

Maybe I was making an ego mountain out of a slip-of-the-tongue mole hill, but I was fairly certain he’d just complimented me. Our gazes locked and a zing of sexual tension crackled between us. At least I think it was sexual tension. It had been a long time since I’d experienced it. Even if he wasn’t feeling the connection, it was nice to hear something flattering come out of his mouth for a change. And the little jitter that rocketed through me let me know I wasn’t completely dead inside. Wow, I really needed to change the batteries in my vibrator if I was thinking about Nate in
that
way
.

Dragging his gaze from me, he turned and busied himself with the jumpsuit. It suddenly felt very warm in the gym. The urge to fan myself was barely overridden by the intense desire to act as if his compliment hadn’t stroked my comatose vanity.

“Put this on.” He turned and shoved the jumpsuit at me. Guess cuddling was out.

My
I’m rockin’ this reaper
bubble burst. I repressed a groan and lifted the orange abomination from his grasp. “I’m going to look like the Great Pumpkin in this.”

He snorted. “Yeah.”

I glared at him. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah.” His head bobbed up and down. “But we’ve all had to wear it. So don’t think I’m torturing you needlessly.”

I harrumphed and sat on the gymnasium floor. Getting my tennis-shoed foot through the leg hole proved to be more difficult than the obstacle course. “What the heck.” The orange mesh caught on the treads of my shoe, not allowing me to shove my foot through or remove it. “I can’t…it’s wrapped around my toe.” I jammed my foot downward into the wall of mesh. That only succeeded in reinjuring my already sore ankle. After a few seconds, I gave a battle cry of furry and kicked my leg, trying to dislodge the jumpsuit. “Stupid firkin’ farkin’ piece of crap.”

Though the f-bomb rarely passes my lips, I’m not averse to connecting as many like sounding F words as I can when I get frustrated. Nate’s brows lifted as I continued muttering a string of F alternatives.

He let me struggled for another minute before he knelt and grabbed my foot, which I beat against the floor. “Stop.” He had my ankle in a vise grip, so I didn’t have any choice but to do as he said. “Next time take your shoe off first.”

“Next time?” I pointed at him and shook a finger at him. “There’s not going to be a next time.”

“Then…” He tugged the jumpsuit from my foot. “I suggest you don’t fail.”

That was the best incentive he could have given me. No way did I want to endure another round of making a fool of myself—at least here. My klutzy nature ensured I’d screw up at some point, but I wouldn’t invite humiliation if I could help it. “Oh, I. Won’t. Fail.”

I yanked off my shoes and snatched the jumpsuit from Nate. Not only would I not fail, I’d kick this course’s ass and call it girl names when I was finished. I stood and wiggled into the mesh. Though the jumpsuit was snug in places, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Probably better tight than loose. That way I wouldn’t get hung up anywhere. At least that was my hope.

After putting on my shoes, I stood. “Now what?”

Nate handed me the pillow person. It was heavier than I thought it would be but nothing I couldn’t carry.

“You must keep control of the soul at all times.” He gripped my forearm and pointed to my wrist. “There’s Velcro here.” His finger moved to press between my boobs. “And here.”

A flurry of butterflies erupted in my stomach again but he seemed oblivious to my reaction or the fact that as co-workers he touched me inappropriately. I simply nodded, keeping my gaze pinned to his. “Gottcha.”

When he lowered his hand, I cradled the pillow person, hugging it to me. Chest to chest, the Velcro connected. I let go and the pillow stuck. I did a few jumping jacks, but it didn’t fall off. This would be easy. I didn’t even have to hold onto it, leaving my hands free to climb and grip. A thought popped into my head. “Why the chest?”

“What do you mean?”

The rip of Velcro being peeled apart sounded as I pulled the pillow away from me. “I get the Velcro at the wrists. It requires me to hold on, just like I did with Leroy Badder. But why at the chest?”

“If you embrace a soul and hold it against you, it will remain stuck. Like a heart-to-heart connection.”

I scrunched my face, remembering how Leroy Badder’s soul had cut though me like an icy blade. And I’d only touched him with my hands. “Ick.”

“Not all souls are as nasty as Badder,” Nate said, seeming to read my thoughts. “Most of your charges won’t possess the dark aura or violent feel.”

A shiver skittered up my spine. “Still.” I shifted the pillow and connected it to the Velcro at my wrist. “I will never willingly do that.”

He shrugged and checked his watch. “Your choice. We need to get started.”

A sigh heaved from me and I murmured some incoherent objection that sounded a lot like Yosemite Sam.

I took my place at the yellow line on the track. To make sure I didn’t drop the pillow during my run I gripped its mitten-shaped hand. And that was exactly the way I’d planned handling all my souls. The less contact the better.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Since I wasn’t being timed I started out at with a slow jog. This was going to be easy. Without the pressure of beating the clock I could finish this course in my own sweet time. As I rounded the first bend a loud scraping echoed through the gym. I glanced back up the track at Nate. He was moving what looked like a metal door frame across the end of my lane but I couldn’t see exactly what it was. My good mood dipped. I knew simply running the course again would have been too easy.

I continued to watch him move from obstacle to obstacle. More scraping along the floor ricocheted around the gym as he pushed the spring board away from the pommel horse.

“Son-of-a…” I bit down the curse, realizing I’d have to climb over the apparatus instead of ungracefully springing over it.

At each obstacle he added a new hindrance. I swallowed down my complaint and focused on the track ahead of me. Already I was out of breath and beginning to perspire. The pillow swished along the floor beside me. With each step it seemed to grow a little heavier. I really needed to dust off my treadmill.

My jog slowed and I stopped in front of the metal barricade. It was a turnstile on wheels. Like something I’d see at airport security. Except this barrier was only about five feet high. The logical thing would be to connect the pillow to my chest, duck, and push past the metal bar, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was the principle of the matter. I understood the pillow was just a metaphorical soul and wouldn’t give me the sickening sensation Badder had—at least that’s what I assumed. But I’d been naïve taking Nate at his word. I thought I just had to run the course. Now here he was throwing up more obstacles. Any trust I’d had vanished, that included believing the pillow was just a pillow.

I eyed the barricade. Fine, I’d just drag my burden through after me. Dipping my head, I walked forward and pushed against the bar blocking my way. At first it didn’t give. I leaned against it with all my weight. The bar rotated so fast I fell forward, but not before another bar snapped up and nailed me in the back. I gasped for air and stumbled. The pillow caught on the other side, nearly yanking my arm out of the socket.

“You and the soul must get through the turnstile.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” I mumbled under my breath. I tugged on the pillow but one of the hands had lodged at the juncture of the rotating wheel. “Come on.” I jerked on the material, but when ripping sounded, I froze. What would that mean if this was an actual soul? Would only part of the spirit get transported, leaving little bits of the soul stuck in different places like the subway or an electric can opener? “Shit.”

I bent and peered into the cog of the turnstile. The material had hooked on a spring. I giggled the bar, trying to maneuver it so I could slide the fabric free. Nothing budged. I poked my finger inside and pushed on the bar again. Pain shot through the tip of my finger. I gasped and yanked my hand free. A good size blood blister rose from the pad. I shoved my finger into my mouth and sucked. I’m not sure why. It didn’t ease the pain and actually caused the throbbing to intensify. I pulled my finger free and shook it wildly. Again, a stupid move, but I was pissed. I jerked the pillow as hard as I could.

More ripping, and the fabric sprang free—minus one thumb. “Sorry.” I grimaced and poked the stuffing inside the hole where the thumb used to be. “Maybe you don’t need fingers in Heaven.”

I glanced up. Nate stared at me from across the gym but didn’t say anything. I tucked the pillow under my arm and jogged toward the pommel horse. Half way across the floor I stopped. “What the hell?”

“It’s barbed wire.” Nate walked toward me. “Get down and crawl through.”

What was this, a war zone? “You’re joking?”

“No. It’s meant to simulate difficult terrain.”

I propped one hand on my hip and let the other hang at my side, still gripping the pillow soul. “This is Alaska, not Afghanistan.”

“You never know where you’ll be assigned.” He scribbled a quick note on the clipboard. “But we can stop and run the course again tomorrow.”

I straightened. “No way. I’m doing this now.”

Despite my opinion about the ridiculously stupid course, I was big enough to admit that many times in my life I hadn’t seen the big picture. And since I knew little to nothing about actual fieldwork as a reaper, I was willing to give Nate the benefit of the doubt.

Logic dictated I velcro the pillow to my chest. Unfortunately my stubbornness usually kicked logic’s ass when push comes to shove. Hunkering down like I’d seen in war movies, I shimmied my body forward, dragging the pillow beside me.

The opening narrowed. What the heck? Did GRS have something against rubenesque women? Ropes of pointy wire crisscrossed above me, leaving only a few feet for me to maneuver. About a yard in, the pillow snagged on a barb. Feeling the doll had given enough when it sacrificed its thumb, I wiggled backward and detached it. Again I moved forward and again it snagged. Nate cleared his throat with the kind of sound that covered a laugh.
Bastard
.

There was no way I was getting through this without shredding the pillow. Drastic measures were in order. Coming to the decision I’d rather suffer the sticky feel of a soul than Nate’s condescending attitude, I shoved the pillow under me. The Velcro pads fused.

Though a little awkward, the pillow made moving a whole lot easier. Instead of shimmying I was able to push my body forward and slide along the polished floor. Even though the muscles in my arms quivered like a frightened Chihuahua, I felt pretty smug by the time I reached the end of the barbed wire enclosure.

I struggled to my feet and shuffled to the wall of ropes. The doll bounced against me, its head bopping mine every time I took a step. I pushed it to the side but the pillow rebounded back and blocked my view. I grabbed the soft head and shoved it against my neck, clamping down with my chin. That did the trick.

The rope wall spread out and up. My arm shook when I raised it to grasp the rope above my head. Stepping onto the lowest rung, I began my climb, making sure to keep all the weight on my legs. The trek was slow but I progressed none the less. Like I said, I would not fail. I sent up a silent “Thanks” when I reached the top. Nothing out of the norm had happened. Nobody dumped oil on me from above or let loose a swarm of spider monkeys to attack me.

I turned my head to see where the ledge was located. The head of the pillow sprang free from my grip. “Crap.” I stretched my neck, trying to contain it again, but couldn’t reach. “Stupid—thing.”

In such a precarious position I couldn’t flatten myself against the wall to get ahold of the pillow’s head. Each attempt caused my arms to shake. The possibility of tumbling to the ground became a very real threat.

Abandoning my efforts, I looked over my shoulder and extended my leg along the ledge. Nate hadn’t climbed the rope ladder when sabotaging the course so I hoped there were no hidden surprises for me on the narrow ledge. I shifted my weight and using the handle on the scaffolding again, eased onto the platform. Unlike the first run I couldn’t hunker down. There was a big frickin’ pillow in my way. But neither could I see around it. Again I crammed the stuffed head under my chin.

Inch by inch, I scooted along the wood, feeling my way with the toe of my shoe. Luckily there were no pitfalls. The rope hung in front of me, taunting me to grab it. Learning my lesson last run, I snaked it with my hand and wrapped the rope around my foot. I’d seen it done on TV, so I knew it had to work. Relief washed through me when I didn’t zip to the bottom of the line. Though awkward with the pillow attached to my chest. I slid down without injuring myself and hopped onto the trampoline.

At this point the pillow became a growing hindrance. Sure it might break the fall if I missed the next trampoline but it was tough keeping my balance. I yanked the pillow off my chest and attached it to my wrist again. Bounce, bounce and I landed on the smaller trampoline.

The end was in sight. Only three balance beams and a trip around the track. I jumped down and mounted the first beam. The deep roar of a motor revved and suddenly a blast of air hit me from the right side, almost pushing me off. My body tilted to the left and my foot lifted.