Reaper Reborn

by Kel Carpenter

  “What is it?” she asked eventually.

  I lost a breath. “Graves died in Gamma Rho. His body is in the fire. When he gets out, he’s going to need a diversion to cover him escaping.”

  “You really think I care if your fuck buddy—”

  “Thana doesn’t know about the blood rite, and we’re trying to keep it that way. Not to mention, every time he dies—so do I. I know you’re pissed at me—”

  “Pissed does not even cover what I’m feeling right now, Salem.”

  “I know,” I breathed. “If anyone understands that, it’s me. But I need you, Tam. You can be angry. You can hate me. When this is all over, if you never want to talk to me again then so be it, but I have to fix this. You’re right. I fucked up with how I handled Thana. Give me a chance to unfuck it.”

  I sensed her indecision. In the end though, I knew she would help me.

  “I’ll get him out of here, but after that, you’re on your own until you fix this.”

  “Thank you—”

  The line went dead before I could even finish.

  Fuck. I hung my head.

  I felt nauseous, the guilt and anger twisting up my insides and making me shake.

  Thana’s plan had been brilliant. But it only worked because of the choices I had made. As much as I wanted to pin all the blame on her, I couldn’t. She never would have been able to do what she did if I had just revealed her presence. Sarah’s death was on me.

  All those reapers trapped in the house . . . I might as well have lit the match.

  It was on me. All of it.

  My anger bubbled, igniting me with its heat. I could feel the flush racing along my skin, like the first signs of a sunburn after a long summer day in the pool.

  “Salem, honey? You’re burning up.”

  I turned to Esme. “I’m fine.”

  “No, Salem.” She pointed. “You’re burning up.”

  Looking down, I realized the sting I’d mistaken as physical side effects of my anger was in fact actual burn marks forming on my hands and arms. As I watched, pain ratcheted up my right arm and long angry cuts formed along the already red and blistered skin. My hand began to throb, dozens of smaller cuts appearing over my knuckles. It felt like I’d punched a wall . . . or Graves had punched through a window. At least his escape seemed to be going well.

  “It’s Graves. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

  Esme frowned, not looking convinced. “The boy already got himself killed once. Is he going for round two?”

  “Escaping, actually.”

  She hummed. “At least let me get the first-aid kit. Those burns look nasty.”

  I nodded woodenly, Tamsin’s words still replaying loudly in my mind. I needed to do something—anything—to make this better. “Esme, what did Richard say? How fast can he get here?”

  She hesitated just inside the doorway before turning and giving me an apologetic smile. “He said he’s going to need time to gather what we need. The kind of ingredients required, they aren’t the kind he can acquire without raising suspicion.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed. Perfect.

  My only solution to this shitshow was officially on pause, and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it.

  I wanted to scream, rage, break everything around me. Instead, all I did was open my eyes and give Esme a nod.

  “Be right back,” she said, rushing out to gather the medical supplies.

  My body ached, but I barely registered the pain.

  No matter what I did, or what I tried to do, I failed. Everything I’d done the last few days had been to prevent the war and protect the people I love, and it had backfired. Spectacularly. Things couldn’t have gone worse.

  “Now’s not the time for a pity party.”

  “Fuck off, Shep.”

  “Salem, you can’t give up now. Too many people need you.”

  This was not what I needed to hear right now. “Maybe they’d be better off without me. I mean, at best, I have a half-formed plan to trap Thana, but even then I don’t know what to do with her when I get her here. She’s a demigod, and I still haven’t learned how to kill an immortal. I’m no closer to figuring out how to bring souls back without a body to put them into, which means I can’t help you or any of the others Thana killed today. And don’t get me started on—”

  “Salem, relax. Take it one step at a time.”

  “What are you even doing here? I thought I was too pig-headed to be around right now.”

  Shepard came closer, his eyes so filled with sympathy that I couldn’t bear to look at them. “You’re my twin, Squid, and you’re hurting. I could never leave you alone at a time like this.”

  “I fucked everything up, Shep.” My voice cracked as I spoke, betraying the emotion I was trying so hard to keep contained. It felt like if I gave into it even a little, I’d break entirely.

  “No, Salem. Thana used you. These lives, they are on her. You will find a way to fix this.”

  “Oh yeah?” I laughed incredulously. “How?”

  “Think, Salem. Think about what you need.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “I need a fucking miracle, Shep.”

  “Alright,” he nodded, “and who performs miracles?”

  “I don’t exactly have God on speed dial, so unless you have something useful to add . . .”

  “Salem. Didn’t you say that you’re basically a goddess now?”

  My mouth snapped shut, and I stared at my twin. He was trying to tell me something. I could sense the answer to whatever riddle he was posing like it was on the tip of my tongue.

  “Yes, but I’m nowhere near powerful enough—”

  “So get powerful enough.”

  I wanted to smack myself when it clicked. This whole time I knew what I needed to do to level up, I just hadn’t pursued it because Graves asked me not to and I seemed to die fairly often as it was.

  “The more I die, the more I level up . . .” I said slowly. “Maybe one of those level-ups comes with something that can fix this.”

  The corner of my brother’s mouth curved upward. “Only one way to find out.”

  I looked from him to Esme, who’d just come back in waving the first-aid kit. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Hm?” she asked, setting down the kit and pulling one of her machetes out of some hidden compartment in her cargo pants. She was inspecting the edge very meaningfully.

  “I need you to kill me. A lot.”

  19

  Death Montage

  A car door slammed shut. The burns on my skin made me hiss as I jumped to my feet and stumbled toward the door. I’d stopped burning all of twenty minutes ago, and since then, my own advanced healing had kicked in and dealt with the worst of the damage.

  The door opened right as I reached it.

  Graves fell forward. His clothes were burned in most places. Red, patchy skin peeked out from what was left of it.

  He grabbed the doorframe with one hand to steady himself, clearly struggling.

  That was good. It would make it easier for what was to come if he wasn’t top-notch.

  Not that I told him that.

  Just past his shoulder, a car idled in the circle driveway. Tamsin sat at the wheel. Her eyes were red, bloodshot, and sort of puffy. She stared at me, but it wasn’t my best friend looking out. It was despair and grief.

  Our eyes met.

  Her lips formed the words, “Fix this.”

  “I will,” I whispered back.

  She nodded and pulled out of the driveaway.

  I never doubted that she was serious when she said she wasn’t helping me after this, but that didn’t ease the pain in my chest watching her drive away.

  I used that pain; let it motivate me for what was to come.

  Wrapping a hand around Graves’ waist, we leaned into each other as we pulled away from the front door. The toe of my boot hit the corner, and it swung shut behind us.

  I turned to face Esme and ghost Shep. They stood on
either side of the wooden chair. Beside it, on the dining table, an assortment of instruments were laid out, from knives to guns to poison and even a scythe.

  My aunt took the business of killing me very seriously. I was beginning to wonder if she went into the wrong profession.

  “What’s this?” Graves asked, trying to pull away.

  “A solution,” I answered.

  “To what exactly?” he rasped. The smoke must have fucked with his lungs some.

  “We need to find a way to get rid of Death and Thana. I can’t do that right now, and I can’t bring anybody back this way either, not without a fresh body around . . .” I didn’t look away when he started to glare. “We need a miracle, and my death mojo is the best we got. Maybe if I die enough times, I’ll be able to do something to fix this.”

  “Or you could just be wasting time that we need to find a place to hide out for when Thana breaks out—”

  “She’s going to do that either way. The supes are coming for me either way. Death is coming either way. We tried to run from this, to prevent it—but all that’s done for us so far is make things worse. I need to fix this, Graves. You can either help me or not, but there’s no running.”

  Graves stared at me for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, we do this your way.”

  I didn’t even get to respond before a shotgun went off.

  There was no moment of darkness claiming me. No drifting. No cold embrace.

  One minute we stood there staring at each other.

  The next we popped up in our ghostly forms.

  Meanwhile, my aunt stood off to the side, cocking her shotgun once more as she muttered something about us talking too much.

  “She’s not wrong,” Shep murmured.

  I gave him the finger and leaned over my body, giving Graves a quick smile. “You ready for this, Stranger Danger?”

  He waved for me to go ahead. “After you.”

  “I can’t promise she’s not going to enjoy this.”

  Graves raised a brow. “You think?”

  With that, I touched my hand and pulled us back into living color.

  Esme was ready for us, this time swinging her scythe. My head was rolling across the living room floor like a hairy bowling ball before I even realized what happened.

  I rubbed my throat, wincing at the sight. “Jesus, Esme.”

  “Maybe you need to give her the preheating-the-oven speech,” Graves murmured, appearing beside me, his eyes trained on his own head.

  “At least she’s effective,” I offered, proud of myself for hesitating only half a second before going back.

  Machete, throwing knives, crossbow—that one she saved for Graves—one after the other, Esme worked through her pile of weapons, the mix of our blood splashing across her coveralls.

  “Anyone else hearing Jock Jams playing in the background right now?” Shepard asked, looking far too amused as Graves and I popped back into the spirit realm.

  I glared at him.

  “I think your aunt missed her calling . . .” Graves said.

  “I was thinking the same thing earlier. Fuck being a reaper. Esme is a damn assassin. What is with all these one-shots? I mean, I know this is what I asked her to do, but man . . . I feel like even if we were trying to fight back, we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  Shepard smirked. “Guess that just means you need to keep on going until you do.”

  I groaned. He was probably right.

  I brought us back, eyes already squeezing shut in anticipation.

  “What took so long that time?” Esme asked, cocking her head.

  I peeked one eye open. “Just chatting with Shep—”

  That’s all she let me say before she threw an ax that lodged itself dead center in my forehead.

  “Well, why did she ask if she didn’t care about the answer?” I shouted, throwing my ghostly hands up.

  Graves at least pretended to cover up his laugh. Shepard didn’t bother.

  “You know, if our roles were reversed, I’d at least have the decency to not enjoy it quite so much.”

  “Doubtful,” Shep said with a smirk.

  Scowling, I touched my body.

  This time Esme did some kind of flying spin, unleashing two ninja stars and taking Graves and me out at the same time.

  Shep was waiting for us, holding up nine fingers like some kind of spectral Olympic judge.

  “Wait until I tell Esme you only gave her a nine.”

  Shep made a face. “Please. That was for you. Esme is tens across the board.”

  “You’re rating my dying?”

  He nodded. “You need to work on your dismount.”

  “Oh, fuck off,” I said, but there was no heat in it. If I had to keep dying, at least my brother was here to keep me entertained.

  This time Esme gave us a curious look. “Any requests?”

  I blinked at her. “Uh . . . no? What kind of question is that?”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then she twisted around and proceeded to lift a grenade.

  “Whoa, Esme! Let’s not destroy the house,” I shouted in panic.

  Esme pouted and set it down.

  Graves was laughing beside me.

  “You think this is funny?”

  “Only your aunt would have a grenade handy.”

  A dart hit me in the neck, and my knees gave out as the world blurred. I couldn’t even manage to form words before I slumped over into the darkness.

  I lost count of the times Graves and I bounced between realms. The number of ways I’d died had blurred together, time losing all meaning as Esme killed us on a seemingly endless loop.

  At some point, the very long night had ended. Sunlight peeked through the blood-spattered drapes of the living. I bent at the waist—in my living form, my breaths coming hard and heavy.

  Dying was fucking exhausting.

  Even Esme was starting to slow down a little, dark circles lining her eyes.

  “How many times is that?” I huffed.

  My aunt shrugged, digging through her weapons to find something she hadn’t used to kill me and Graves yet.

  “One hundred and thirty-six,” Shep supplied from the sidelines. He sat with a tub of popcorn in the chair that I never actually made it to sitting on, reminding me of Aurora.

  “A hundred and thirty-six?” I asked. “How the fuck have I not leveled up yet?”

  “How do you know you haven’t leveled up?” Shep asked, tossing another piece in his mouth.

  “I don’t feel any different . . .”

  “Did you feel different the other times you came back?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  He stood, and the popcorn disappeared. “So you don’t know if you’ve leveled up, then,” Shep said. “I’m willing to bet you have. When we first started, it took fifteen minutes for you to show back up after Esme killed you. It started being instant somewhere around the twentieth death.”

  My mouth dropped open. “So I’ve been leveling up this whole time? And you didn’t say anything?”

  Exhaustion and just a little bit of annoyance bled into my tone.

  “I figured if that’s where you were at after twenty, you’d be a real badass after a hundred more.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “Esme, you can stop. I need to see what I can—”

  I didn’t get to finish that sentence before Esme said, “Fuck it. I won’t get another chance to see what this does anytime soon.”

  I opened my mouth to ask what she was talking about when something rolled across the hardwood floors. It came to stop in between Graves and me.

  Esme was already bolting for the other side of the living room when a slew of curses left my lips.

  “Goddamnit! I told you not to use grenades in the house!”

  Boom.

  Red engulfed me, but pain didn’t even get to register before I was back in the spirit realm.

  Our entire fucking living room was destroyed because she wanted to try a grena
de.

  On either side of me, Graves and Shepard laughed like they didn’t have a single care in the world.

  “Seriously?” I demanded. “Why are you two laughing? I told her not to do that,” I growled. A buzzing had started in my head, followed by the pounding of a headache that didn’t go away no matter how many times I died.

  Frustration at myself, at the situation, at the impossibility that I could ever defeat Thana mounted. Exhaustion from lack of sleep and dying on an endless loop was beginning to eat at me.

  More than anything, though, I was hungry.

  And Esme just blew part of our fucking kitchen to smithereens.

  The tension in me snapped, and I lashed out.

  “Stop laughing!” I shouted, smacking my brother in the chest. “I get that you’re dead, but unless I can find a way to fix this, every person I care about will follow. This is serious, Shepard.”

  “Salem—” Graves started.

  “Don’t ‘Salem’ me,” I growled. “You’re just as bad right now.”

  “Look—”

  “You look,” I bit back. My jaw popping as I wheeled on him. “I get that I asked to die, and this is all my fault, but I’m tired, Graves. Exhausted. Can you guys just keep the fucking snickering to yourselves for two damn seconds—”

  “Shepard?” My aunt’s voice sounded different.

  I paused in my ranting and blinked.

  My hand wasn’t incorporeal anymore. It was solid.

  I’d never touched my body though . . .

  “Esme?” my brother asked, looking shocked. “You can see me?”

  My aunt stared at Shepard with a look of awe on her face for all of two seconds before she launched herself at him.

  Shepard caught her around the waist and lifted her easily, swinging her around as he hugged her.

  “My god is it good to see you again,” Esme breathed, pulling back to look at him. She pressed her hand to his cheek, tears spilling down her face.

  “You too, Aunt Esme.”

  My aunt smacked him on the arm with her free hand. “Don’t you ever go and do something as stupid as getting yourself killed, ever again.”

  She was one to talk after chucking a fucking grenade in the house.

  “Unless your sister is around,” she amended.