The Death and Romancing of Marley Craw

by Brindi Quinn

  Oh. Well, that’s not much of a relief at all! Because if that’s true, then– “So what, I’m just pervier than the average dead guy?”

  Pine snorts.

  Jerk.

  “Quit laughing!” I scold. “This is se-ri-ous!”

  “Sorry.” Pine forces the laugh away, but he isn’t able to fully hide the grin. “That’s not what I’m saying. We were assigned to you because your biggest regret is never experiencing love. Think about it. After the death of your parents, you were heartbroken. You wouldn’t let yourself receive love. You fixated on unattainable lovers, and whenever someone palpable started to love you, you sabotaged it. But then you made a decision. What were you supposed to do the weekend of your death?”

  “I was finally going to let Noah Carmichael kiss me.”

  Pine frowns, but quickly covers it with a nod. “That’s right. Even after your death, you clearly remember that.” He rolls his eyes. “You thought about it enough.”

  “So my biggest regret in life is not having a boyfriend? Are you serious? Gee, I feel bad for the people who just want to cure cancer. Bet their afterlives are a freaking blast.”

  Pine puts a hand atop my head. “Don’t say it like that. Love is important too, Marley, and for you, it wasn’t about that anyway. It was about changing. Near the end of your life, you resolved to move forward. That’s why it would be a shame for you to lose yourself in grief all because that dumbass couldn’t control himself.”

  Control.

  “You know, I died my hair red as a reminder that I was taking control of my life. Look where I ended up.”

  “Marley . . .”

  Pine is right. I was changing. I was taking control of my life, but in the end, I couldn’t control my fate. Not in life, anyway. What about death? If I don’t take control of my fate in death, what will it mean? That it was all for nothing? That I hadn’t really changed at all?

  I didn’t really have control of my life.

  But I realize something now.

  I need control of my death.

  I need to prove that I’m changed.

  I look point-blank at Pine. “If I let you usher me, where will you take my soul?”

  Pine tugs uncomfortably at his tie. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Control.

  I can’t have control if there’s uncertainty.

  I know what I have to do.

  I throw my arms around Pine’s neck to hide the fact that I’m about to become a weepy mess. “Kiss me,” I whisper into his ear.

  He does. Pine kisses me with all of the cherishing intent in the world. He opens his mouth against mine and exchanges his heat with me. He places his hand at the small of my back and hoists me to himself. His body is warm and firm. It fights for control over me. He’s strong. He could make me do anything, if he wanted to. My heart beats, loud, louder, LOUDEST! I wind my fingers through his hair. I savor him the way he savors me as I kiss him back.

  Kiss me, Pine. Kiss me one last time.

  Reading my thoughts, he stops abruptly – “What?” – and pulls away to see the tears streaming down my cheeks.

  Don’t look. Please don’t look. I’m not normally this . . . exposed.

  Eyes wide and shaking, he looks anyway, and even goes so far as to take my cheeks in his hands.

  Wonderful. The last image he has of me will be this. Slobbery, messy Marley. I tear away from him. It hurts because even though it might only be because he reaped my mom, I still think I really like him a lot, and he only likes my soul. I wipe my arm across my face to make way for new tears. Shoulders shaking, I hide my face in my hands. “I was never really good at anything in life, you know, except for causing trouble, but I think there’s something I’d be really good at now. Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing I’ll ever be good at. I’m sorry, I know that sounds way over-the-top melodramatic, but it’s true, and that’s why I’m choosing to go with Minx.”

  “WHAT?!”

  I make the mistake of glancing up to see Pine’s panic.

  “MARLEY–”

  “I have an extreme case of LIKE for you, Captain, but I’ll force myself to desire Minx more. I made a promise to someone, so I have to do this,” I tell him, choking.

  “Marley, if you’re talking about that ‘haunting’ promise you made with that girl–”

  I cut him off, shouting with everything I can muster: “MINX, CAN YOU HEAR ME?! IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, TAKE ME TO MY GRAVE, OKAY?! IF YOU TAKE ME TO MY GRAVE, I’LL CHOOSE YOU!”

  Chapter 13: The Death and Haunting of Marley Craw

  The image of the amusement park implodes. Pine, the rides, the popcorn. All of it implodes into nothing.

  “Don’t!” Pine’s voice resounds through the nothing. “If you go there, you’ll grieve!” he shouts.

  And he sounds tortured, of all things.

  It hurts.

  “I’m sorry, Pine,” I tell him. “I have a promise to keep.”

  The last thing I see is the glow of his eyes before everything goes dark.

  Dark.

  Dark.

  Dark.

  In the darkness, someone slips their arms around me – one across my chest, the other firmly pressed to my stomach. The smell of fresh laundry envelops me.

  “Minx.”

  A tongue licks up the back of my neck. “Mm,” he groans. “You taste good, Marley Craw. I can’t wait to devour you.”

  “Just Marley’s fine,” I say. I can’t help it. It’s an automated response by now.

  “Mar-mar,” Minx coos my name. His hand slides down my stomach. Low, low, too low. I grab it. “D-do you like being a reaper, Minx?”

  “It’s all right.”

  “Really?” I press.

  “No.” He opens his mouth against the back of my neck. “I hate it. There are too many rules.”

  Marley and Minx, breaking rules and taking names.

  I shake my head at myself. To Minx I say, “I’m sorry that being around me made you relapse. You’re on parole. You’re probably going to get in a lot of trouble after this is over.”

  “Don’t think about that, Mar-mar.” The reaper’s voice is as soothing as the first time I heard it. “Think about what you desire.”

  Yeah. That’s right.

  What I desire most, is to–

  The world flickers, and we’re standing in a sea of headstones. Varying in size, the stones run in uneven rows. The day is crisp and cool and dim. It’s approaching nightfall. The place is painted in dusky blue.

  That’s okay. I don’t mind if it’s spooky. I’m just another ghost in the graveyard.

  Excuse me, I meant spirit.

  Yes, I, Marley Craw, am a spirit.

  But not for long.

  Minx shifts to my front side. He places his lips on my shoulder, and I begin to feel sleepy. I slide my hand into his back pocket and thrust myself against him. I focus on the feeling of his jeans pushing against mine. The feeling of my shoulder in his mouth.

  I tell myself that I want him.

  I’ll force myself to desire him most of all if it kills me . . . er, again.

  It shouldn’t be hard. The reaper is nothing if not desirable.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” I tell him, sliding a hand up his shirt. I trace the lines of his muscle before drawing my finger down to his navel. His skin there is smooth and warm. I wonder what would happen if I kissed it.

  Oh gawd. Who would’ve thought I’d turn so damn sensual?

  Minx puts his hand to my thigh and lifts up the bottom of my dress.

  Yes, Minx, seduce me. Seduce me until I can’t resist you.

  I lift my knee around him. I pull at one of his belt loops.

  “When you removed the seal, I remembered something,” I tell him as he bites my collarbone. “A promise I made to someone. I’m here to carry it out. You were right all along. You’re the only one who can help me.”

  Minx lifts his face and his eyes shine with a mischievous gleam. I knew it from
the start – Minx is naughty. He’s sexy and he’s naughty.

  He takes me by the wrist and pulls me through the uneven rows of stones. My wrist’s been getting more action than anyone these days. Minx leads me as though I’m chained to him. He runs ahead of me faster than a normal sprint, hood flapping in the wind, checkered shoes slamming against the ground with each step before lifting off again. His hair looks blue in this light – like a phantom’s. I chase after him, letting him lead me to the place we need to go.

  Yes, I’ll run with Minx to my fate. Away from Pine and uncertainty.

  As we sprint, we pass along pale statues of angels with wide wings and reaching hands. I wonder if good ol’ Beck looks anything like that. He said he has wings made of light, but I picture him in a suit, and glasses, and overall much scrawnier than the chiseled frames of the cemetery statues.

  Eventually, we come to the row of a particular grave – a short, unworn stone sticking from the head of a mound donned with more flowers than the rest. The earth here is lumpier than the rest, too. Must mean this grave was recently dug. “There.” Minx lifts a listless wrist and points at the stone.

  He’s right. I can feel it.

  I nod to him and begin moving over the grass. It’s there, brighter than the rest, gleaming in the dusk. Or maybe it’s just my eyes distorting it like that. My skin pricks the closer I get. I thought this would be harder. I expected each step to be a struggle. But this is . . . okay. Downright easy, even. It feels right. Natural. Almost as if my grave is a magnet, luring me to it.

  “It’s getting louder,” Minx says. He’s right behind me, his mouth perpetually by my ear, apparently.

  He means my soul. My soul is getting louder. I believe it, but I can’t hear it anymore.

  At the last minute, Minx’s hands cover my eyes playfully. “Are you ready?”

  I put my hands over his. “I think I am.”

  He slips them away.

  Marley Craw

  Sister ~ Granddaughter ~ Friend

  There are dates there, too, showing that I was only seventeen. Seventeen, huh? It’s such a small number in the full spectrum of numbers. There’s nothing relative about it.

  I fall to my knees, onto the moist earth. My body is below there, bruised and damaged, defiled thanks to that rapist.

  But that doesn’t matter right now. Now that I’m here, I can keep the promise I made.

  “Thank you, Minx.” I turn in time to see his eyes glow red.

  He tips his head in his cautious way. “I knew the first time you said my name . . .” He bites his lip– “That I wanted to help you. Your mana is thick, Marley. I understand better than anyone why you’d want to.” He curls his finger around a lock of my hair. “I understand why you’d want to haunt.”

  Haunt.

  To haunt. To cause mischief and mayhem and sorrow. To wallow in the wretched life I lived. To keep my promise to Carmen.

  “I don’t,” I say.

  Minx’s mouth flashes a scowl for a fraction of a second before turning into a soft frown. “Huh?”

  “That’s not what I desire.”

  “But your promise,” Minx says, brow dipping lower. “To your friend?”

  Haunting Buddies 4 Life.

  “Not that promise,” I tell him. “That promise was dumb.”

  Sorry, Carmen, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t appreciate seeing my apparition in your mirror, anyway.

  I turn to the tombstone next to mine. It’s a grave more aged than mine; a plot more visited than mine, for I visited it once a week, every Thursday, to be exact . . . when I was alive. I crawl to it, over the disturbed earth. I place my fingers on the smooth, cold stone. “Mom.” A warm feeling rushes over me.

  What is that feeling? Quiet? Calming?

  Oh right. It’s peace.

  “Your soul–!” Minx gives a start. “It’s hushing! No, Marley! I’ll help you! I’ll help you open your pain!”

  I ignore him.

  I let the coolness of the stone sink into my palm.

  “I swore to you, Mom, that I’d become stronger. That I was changing. That I had control. And that’s why I’ve decided: I’m going to sleep forever. I’ve never been all that great at math or grammar or sports. I’ve never done much but get in trouble. It’s all I’m good at, really, but I think I’ll be good at resting, too. I really do.” I trace my fingers in the grooves of her name carved in stone. “I just wanted to see you again, one last time. I guess this is maybe what they call closure.”

  I turn to Minx. His eyes are soft, but his mouth is scowling. He’s conflicted. It’s safe to say he’s torn between his old self and his new self. That’s okay. I’m like that too. I’ll make it easier for him. “Reap me, okay, Minx? Put my soul to sleep. That’s what I desire most.” I open my arms wide to him. “Cuddle me, Minx!”

  His eyes glow like rubies in a forbidden treasure chest. “R-really?”

  “Come cuddle me until I forget about everything but you.” But even as I say it, a gust moves through the cemetery. Meddlesome thing. It wraps me in a familiar pine scent, and an unruly longing moves around in the pit of my stomach.

  Stop it.

  I can’t think about him.

  I don’t want to be ushered to some unknown fate because . . . I’m scared. I’m a big, fat chicken.

  I want certainty. I want control. I want to rest.

  Unsure, Minx takes me in his arms. He holds me carefully, like I’m a trinket that might break at any moment. Mm. His embrace is comfy. Like the edge of sleep. He smells good, too. Like clean sheets. Like a nap in the summer.

  But even with his fresh scent, the scent of pine is overbearing. It draws in through my nose and fills me up, and I ache.

  “Take me, Minx,” I whisper into his chest. “Please.”

  “I . . . can’t,” he says, voice oddly light. “Not until you desire me most.”

  The pine scent swells, and as it gets stronger, I fight to ignore the excitement going on in my veins. They react with vigor, twist like snakes, and pump with fury.

  I fight to squash it.

  Forget about him.

  Forget about everything.

  Think only about Minx.

  Think only about sleepy, comfortable nonexistence.

  . . .

  “Wait.” From over us comes a voice. A guy’s voice. I know that voice. “Don’t do it, Marley.”

  I snap my head from Minx’s chest, and see him, standing over there, backed by twilight’s dim. My throat chokes on itself.

  “P-Pine! W-what’re you doing here?!” I imagine this is the way a cheating lover feels, caught in the act.

  At the sight of his adversary, Minx turns vicious. His nails turn into claws that sink into my bare arms. “You!” he seethes. “What are you doing here? You can’t enter another reaper’s outing!”

  Pine flicks the hair from his eye. “I’m not on the clock anymore, remember? They issued a replacement. Her angel granted me access.” He drops into a squat. “It took me a while to get here, Marley. There are a number of hackings you have to make if you’re going to enter another reaper’s outing.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, breathless, wildly trying to suppress the wicked fast heartbeat going on in my chest and the acrobatics happening in my stomach. “But what are you doing here? I told you I’m choosing Minx.”

  He knocks twice on my forehead. “It isn’t your choice, dummy.” He nods to the sky. “It’s theirs, up there. You’re being judged as we speak, and if you haven’t gone to eternal sleep yet, it means you haven’t really settled yet. Your desire isn’t set in stone.” He takes my chin in his hand. “Let me take you away.”

  Minx wraps his arms around me in bondage. “Leave!” he spits at Pine, territorially.

  The dark-haired reaper ignores him. He fiddles with one of his earrings in a nervous way and drills his silver eyes into mine. “Don’t rest, okay? I want to be the one to reap you. You like me, don’t you?”

  “I do, but you said it was only b
ecause . . .” I glance at my mother’s headstone.

  “There’s an easy way to tell,” he says. “You’ve reached resolution.” He transfers his fidget to the zipper of his nether-hoodie. “Do you still like me?”

  Of course I do. Just seeing him makes me swoon.

  Ohmigosh. The sight of him! It really gets to me, doesn’t it?

  Now, I’m a reasonable girl. Downright down-to-earth if you ask me. I know it isn’t normal behavior to fall for a supernatural guy you’ve only just met – and one that doesn’t look anything like nineties teenage dream JTT, at that – but I also feel like I’ve known him for a very, very long time. I also feel like he was with me each time I grieved at this very grave.

  He’s hot as hell, true, but it’s more than that. He’s a weirdly calm guy, even when annoyed. He’s got weird phobias, and a weird way of breaking his own rules, and a weird way of making me feel at ease. In short, he’s weird, like me.

  Maybe, just maaaybe, our weirdnesses mesh?

  I mean, I like kissing him. I like being around him. I just like HIM.

  That’s got to mean something, right?

  Is there such a thing as chemistry in the afterlife, I wonder? Not, like, photons mixing with photons, chemistry, but flesh and blood, drawn-unquestionably-to-you chemistry.

  Wait . . . is photons right?

  Whatever. Me? Science? Not so much. Just ask my old biology teacher, Mr. Donnelson. That old goat.

  And since we’re on the subject, isn’t it funny how people always seem to resemble animals? Minx is a puppy. Pine is a lynx. Zae would be a ferret, I guess. And Mr. Donnelson’s definitely a goat. Through and through, a goat.