Grim (Death's Apprentice Book 1)

by Scarlett Snow

  My curiosity is more intrigued than horrified now. “What were those hands all about?”

  Charon glances over his shoulder at me. “They were a test. You passed.”

  I scrunch my face up in confusion. “A test? Why? Are there more I’ve gotta pass? Why am I even here? What’s happening?”

  “You ask many questions, Sacha Gray.”

  “Wouldn’t you if you died and woke up here?”

  For the first time since I woke on the beach, I think of my family. My mom, my little brother, and my unborn baby sister. If I really did die, I’m never going to see them again, and they had no one but me to rely on.

  What will they do? My mom cleaned out all her savings to win full custody of us when she divorced my dad. My stomach coils into a tight knot and tears burn my eyes. I can’t think of them right now. I’ve got to figure out what the heck is going on here.

  Charon continues to gracefully glide us through the sea of petals. “I am not the one to provide those answers.”

  “Then who is?”

  “You will see.”

  Darkness drops over us, descending like a thick blanket around the boat. I look up as we approach a set of monstrous gates that eclipse the sun, and my breath hitches. They stretch on for miles, with two winged gargoyles flanking the entrance.

  Retrieving the coin from his pocket, Charon flicks the silver into the air. A stone hand reaches out and catches it. The gargoyle places the coin into its already opened mouth, and with that, the gates slowly open.

  Charon steers us into an endless white landscape. There’s something waiting in the distance, along with two sets of stairs, one going up and the other down.

  “Is that an office?” I inquire, more to myself than anything. “Why have you brought me to an office?”

  I know I was looking for a job and all, but this isn’t what I had in mind.

  “This is where all souls are brought to be judged by their maker.”

  Maker? Why do I have an awful feeling about this?

  Charon tethers the boat, effortlessly climbs over and offers me a hand. We’re completely surrounded by clouds; even the stairs disappear into them. I hesitantly place my hand into Charon’s and gasp at the sudden coldness. He raises his eyebrows, then gives a little smile, encouraging me to trust him.

  I don’t know why, but I trusted Charon the instant I laid eyes on him.

  It’s a strange, deeply rooted kind of trust, one I was never aware I had until now. It’s strong and mysterious, but it’s the one thing that I’m not questioning right now.

  I step off the boat and onto pristinely white tiles. All I can see is white, a combination of light and mist, and a mahogany desk. Behind the desk are a set of silver doors, all of them closed, until a young man exits from one of them.

  He stops upon seeing me and glowers. “What the hell are you doing here?” He grimaces between us, but it’s me who receives the vast majority of his apparent hatred. He’s cute despite his twisted expression, all tall, lean, with red hair and gorgeous green eyes. His shirt, tie, shoes, and jeans are completely black. We both look like we’ve just come from a funeral.

  “Umm. Hi?” I offer meekly. “I’m Sacha. I just died. Did you die, too?”

  The boy ignores my question and looks to Charon. “He doesn’t normally select two, does he?”

  “Death will do as he pleases,” Charon replies, stepping back into the boat and angling his paddle. “Just as I, too, will answer as I please. Farewell to you both. May the best apprentice be chosen.”

  “Apprentice?” I turn to the boy. “What’s going on here?”

  He huffs under his breath and swirls away from me.

  “Okaaay then,” I mutter, standing there like a complete idiot.

  I have no idea what’s happening, where I am, what I’m doing here, or if I’ll ever get to see my family again. To top things off, this guy clearly doesn’t like me. Why does this cutie have to be such a jerk?

  Opening my mouth to speak again, a gust of wind sweeps over me, and something flicks through my hair. Oh my God, is it a spider? I duck down, letting out an embarrassing squeak, as ravens swoop around the desk, cawing and flapping their wings.

  They merge together and transform into a beautiful man in a flashy dark suit, with gorgeous ebony wings. His hair and eyes are as dark as the ravens had been, and there’s something gorgeously sinister about him. The dark hair, the stunningly handsome face, the suit and wings… I’ve seen this man before. I’ve dreamed of him at least a thousand times.

  I said I was looking for him. Looks like I really found him.

  Running a hand along his stubbled cheeks, he grins at each of us, his canines flashing in the light. “Welcome, Deacon Savage. Welcome, Sacha Gray.”

  Quietly, reflexively, I tell him, “Call me Sacha.”

  He smiles. “I am sure you will have many questions, and I will answer them in due course. For now, though, we must decide your fates.”

  I exchange a worried glance with the boy. He’s still frowning, but he finally looks as confused as I am, his pale green eyes widened into saucers.

  “I’ve seen you before. Who are you?” I ask the man, my heart pounding. “Why are we here?”

  If I died, why is my heart still functioning? Why do I still feel alive?

  As he walks toward me, the man’s smile broadens. “You can call me Death. As for why you’re here, well…I have chosen you to become my apprentices. Your souls now belong to me. Your hearts are mine.”

  Before I can react, Death thrusts his hand into my chest and rips out my heart in one effortless pull. I gape at him in shock. The organ pulses and bleeds through his long, slender fingers, and everything functioning inside my body instantly shuts down.

  “Come with me,” Death orders, peeling his intense gaze away from me. Holding my still-beating heart in his hand, he turns and walks around the desk. I remain completely stock-still, rooted in surprise and ‘what in the name of fudge just happened?’, while watching him enter one of the mysterious silver doors.

  “What. The fudge. Is going on here?”

  The boy, Deacon, huffs under his breath. “What do you think? You died. Death now has your heart.”

  An icy shiver creeps into me, snaking through the void in my chest. I take a deep, steady breath and glance down, but my body doesn’t move properly, every organ as rigid as stone. When I somehow regain control over my hands, I feel my wrist for a pulse. Trickles of blood stream down my chest from where my heart was torn out.

  I don’t have a pulse. How is this even possible?

  “What’re you just standing there for?” Deacon snarls beside me. His chest is soaked with blood, but not gaping like my own. “Or are you as stupid as you look, loser?”

  I glare at him, then slowly let go of my wrist. I hate to admit it but he’s right. I can’t just stand here and look pretty. Death literally has my heart in the palm of his hand, and I need answers. Staying here won’t do me any good, and I might end up punching this guy in the face.

  Steeling myself, I open the door the man disappeared through, and a burst of light bleeds into my eyes. It stabs my skull like a bunch of red-hot knives. It quickly fades, and I find myself inside a beautiful meadow. In the center stands a golden tree, its branches stretching toward the cloudless sky. The sun bounces off the small mirrors each dangling from the leaves like wind chimes. The grass swaying around my knees is the color of freshly fallen snow. In fact, everything here is white: the flowers, the shrubberies, the berries clinging to the fluttering leaves.

  It’s breathtaking.

  Death stands under the tree, his head lifted to the sky. His ebony wings stick out among the bleakness, beautiful and otherworldly.

  As I slowly make my way to him, a rotating globe surfaces above the tree. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s a replica of earth with the continents shimmering like burnished gold.

  Pausing just behind him, I debate on what I should even say. Hey, can I have my heart back? K, t
hanks, bye. That’s probably not the best way to go about this. Although, it’s not like I’ve been prepared or anything. Today’s events aren’t quite what I had in mind. I guess there’s really no point in beating around the bush.

  “Can I have my heart back?” I ask quietly, supposing it’s better to just come out with it.

  Death side-eyes me, my heart still bleeding in his hand. “I must weigh it first.” He steps back from the tree, revealing a set of old-fashioned scales placed in front of a large oval mirror. I’ve seen that golden balance before. I’ve dreamed of it for years. “These scales will tell me if you are indeed worthy to be my apprentice.”

  “And if I’m not?” The question burns in the back of my throat for some odd reason, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

  “You will move on from here. However, I can’t guarantee what will await you on the other side. Not many return from the Outer Plainlands.”

  I want to press for more information, but I stay quiet and watch him place my heart on the scale. I’ll give him a moment before shooting off my list of questions in rapid succession.

  Despite being unable to breathe, I hold my breath, waiting to see if the scale will tip or sink. To my relief, my heart rises into the air, which I figure is a good sign. But then there’s a rapid, unexpected shift, and the veins pumping blood through my heart transform into molten gold. The entire organ turns slick with the substance. It’s mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time, and I can’t bring myself to look away, equally as startled as I am fascinated.

  “What have you done to my heart?”

  Death chuckles. “Nothing you can control.” Flashing his impeccably white smile again, he adds over his shoulder, “Congratulations, Sacha Gray. You are now my apprentice.”

  “I told you to call me Sacha. And what do you mean by apprentice? I didn’t sign up for this position. Like, I have absolutely zero skills for the job. I…I just died.”

  His grin widens, crinkling the soft lines framing his almond-shaped eyes. “Precisely. You died, and Charon brought you to me to have your heart weighed. The Scales of Truth never lie. When one’s heart is placed upon its plate, there is nowhere to hide. No one left to fool. One can only pray that it turns into gold.” Bending over the scales, Death picks up my heart and steps toward me. “As I can’t enter the mortal realm, I need an apprentice to collect a list of souls for me.”

  “Why can’t you enter the human world?” I probe, finally dragging my gaze away from my heart. When I look into Death’s ebony eyes, an unexpected sadness pools in them, and I tense my shoulders. He’s probably getting tired with all my questions.

  Oh, how he’s going to hate me really soon. I’m just getting started.

  Choosing to withhold his reply, Death steps forward, his eyes locked on me. I instinctively take a step back, but he gives a lopsided smile and lowers his voice. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you, Sacha.”

  The way his lips twist around my name fills my body with desire. I’d have to be an idiot not to appreciate how drop-dead gorgeous he is. Tall, dark and handsome, with a killer smile and a wicked glint in his eyes that make my heart flutter… Well, they would if I still had one.

  Now look at me. Dead. Heartless. And forced to work for the Grim Reaper because his gorgeous self can’t enter the human world.

  I glance down at my heart pulsing in his outstretched hand, then back up at him. “You mentioned a list of souls. Is this like a naughty and nice kind of thing or…?”

  Shaking his head, though still flashing that wolfish grin of his, he explains, “The List contains souls that have been chosen by our Higher Power. I need you and Deacon to collect them and bring them to me so I can weigh their hearts and take them where they need to go. The other souls are not your concern. All I need you to do is collect the souls on this list, deliver, score off, and repeat.”

  “That sure sounds easy enough…not,” I grumble, folding my arms over my hollow chest. My thoughts are racing a hundred miles per hour, making it impossible to fully understand what’s going on here. “If I’m dead, can I still drink coffee? Because that just might be a deal-breaker for me.”

  That, and not being able to see my family.

  “You can certainly drink coffee here,” Death replies, much to my relief. “But not in the mortal world.”

  The relief quickly plummets into the pit of my stomach.

  “Oh, great. Things just get better and better around here, don’t they? Not only have I got to collect souls for you, but I can’t drink coffee anymore… Just. My. Freakin’. Luck.” It takes a lot of effort not to stomp my foot like a child. If Death wasn’t so handsome, I’d be out of here like a shot. “How do I collect souls, anyway? Do I need a scythe and some ridiculous cloak?”

  “All of this will be explained once you accept your position.”

  Feed me a little info, then leave me starving for more? Clever jerk.

  I place my hands on my hips, not entirely convinced by the situation. “You’re so mysterious.”

  He pauses, not quite expecting me to mutter that out loud. “You think I’m handsome?”

  “I said mysterious,” I grit out, narrowing my eyes. Thank goodness he took my heart. I’m pretty sure my face would be scarlet right now.

  “And I heard you say handsome. It’s been a long while since I’ve had a compliment.”

  I tilt my head at him. “What is your real name?”

  “I had a name long ago. I do not recall it.”

  “So I’m supposed to call you Death?”

  He nods. “If you would be so inclined, of course. I shall call you by your mortal title, Sacha.”

  “Okay, Mr. Death. You still never answered my question. I…I really need to know about—”

  “Your family,” he finishes for me. “They will be taken care of. As long as you work for me, they will want for nothing. They will mourn your death, but every day they will grow stronger, and their lives will hold meaning once again.”

  “Will I…be able to see them?”

  Death gives a slow shake of his head. “Anyone who knew you in your former life will not see or know you in this life. You will be completely invisible to them. It’s the downside to being undead.”

  “Second to not being able to drink coffee,” I mutter with a frown. “You really are Death, aren’t you? Like, the whole shebang?”

  “You have such an impressive eye for detail,” Death notes dryly. “I’m beginning to wonder why you’re not a seer instead of an apprentice.”

  Rolling my eyes at him, I counter hotly, “What I was going to ask is: Why do we have to die? Why did I get hit by a bus, on the way to buy something healthy to eat, no less? Was that karma or just bad luck?”

  Death rests his arm by his side, debating on how to answer. Droplets of blood slip between his fingers and onto the earth. Where my blood touches the soil, daisies bloom in its wake, and Death nods down at them.

  “It’s about balance. Dying is part of the natural order of life. When someone dies, they make room for another life. The deceased body then becomes a part of the earth. The soil. The weeds. The ash lingering in the air around us. They never truly disappear. They simply become a part of the world around us, and thus, the universe.”

  I breathe a frustrated sigh. Sure, it’s a beautiful thought, but it doesn’t answer my question. So I probe him a little further. “But why do people have to die so painfully sometimes? Why do children have to get cancer? Why does cancer exist at all?”

  Another long, strained pause; he’s clearly not entirely comfortable with this subject. “That is not wholly my doing, nor is it the Higher Power’s.”

  “You mean God?”

  “I mean those kinds of decisions do not come from me. That’s enough questions for now. You have a choice to make.”

  He sweeps by me and toward the door, leaving a cold chill in his wake. I quickly follow him, though, refusing to take that as his answer. I have a feeling Death will definitely be regretting his decisi
on to make me his apprentice. I’m not the kind of girl to just shut up and do what she’s told without knowing all the details. My incessant questions often drove my mom nuts when I was a little girl. She said I never passed the ‘three-year-old who asks a million questions a day’ phase. I just kept going and going, and yup, you guessed it, going even more.

  “But why did I have to die? Why did you want me to be your apprentice? Is it because I could communicate with the dead? You said my family will be taken care of. Does that mean my mom won’t need to find a job and Mackenzie can still go to school? What about my little sister? Will she be okay, too? I also have a best friend who—”

  Death swings around, and in one impossibly swift movement, he shoves my heart back into my gaping chest.

  The impact of my heart slamming into my chest sends me tumbling head over heels backward, and I land hard, gasping. Gasping is good, though, because it means I’m breathing again.

  At least I think that’s a good thing.

  Death stands over me with the most innocent expression gracing his stupidly handsome face.

  “Ugh! Stop doing that!” I manage to get back to my feet and press my hand to the place where my chest was once open. I have the disconcerting mental image of actually feeling my heart, pumping away beneath my hand.

  Yuck.

  “Do I have your attention now?” he asks mildly. “I know that you have many questions, but before I can answer any more of them, I need to know if you accept my offer. Will you become my apprentice?”

  I brush myself off. “I don’t know…”

  “If you don’t agree, I will have to take your heart again.”

  That ticks me off. “Are you blackmailing me?”

  “I’m giving you another chance to live.”

  The thought is appealing, I have to admit. Living, I mean. I don’t know about the whole apprentice thing. Yet.

  “What kind of life?”

  “The kind where you truly appreciate what you have because you know what it is to lose it. You will be in the unique position of seeing life from every angle, much as I do when I gaze into these mirrors.”