Grim (Death's Apprentice Book 1)

by Scarlett Snow

  I cross my arms and try not to pout. This has really not been my day. “And if I say yes…will I ever see my family again?”

  Death sighs. He’s getting sick of my questions all over again, especially since I keep asking the same one. “We’ve discussed this. But if it will settle the issue, come here.”

  He brings me to the mirrors. The glass on the oval mirror shimmers, then coalesces into what looks like the family movie from hell. My mom and brother are standing in a hospital corridor, crying their eyes out. I feel terrible for them. I would honestly give anything to ease their pain. To hug them and tell them I’m sorry—sorry for dying, for leaving them.

  The image shifts, and there’s a body lying on a gurney, covered with a white sheet.

  I swallow hard. “Is…is that me?”

  Death nods. “You have passed from your mortal existence, and now you need to decide what you’ll do with your immortality.”

  “I’m immortal?” I like the sound of that.

  “After a fashion.”

  I scrunch my face again. “What does that mean, ‘after a fashion?’”

  He looks at me with those intense eyes, and my knees go all watery. I try to hide it, but I know he saw the reaction on my face.

  “It means,” he answers slowly, “that you are undead. You’ve left your mortal life behind, but you’ve not gone on to either Heaven or Hell.”

  “Is this limbo?”

  He looks around. “I suppose you could call it that. This is my domain. This is where you will bring the souls to be judged.”

  “What happens to them afterward?” I gulp, tensing my shoulder. I hope he doesn’t rip their hearts out, too.

  Death arches his left eyebrow ever so slightly. “I deliver them to their final destinations.”

  The door behind us opens, and the grumpy dude from the lobby—I guess you’d call it a lobby—comes in. He’s got such an ornery look on his face that I’m not going to give him the time of day. He also can’t hold a candle to tall, dark and dead over here.

  Death formally introduces the boy as Deacon Savage. “And this is Sacha Grey.”

  We stiffly shake hands. I try not to laugh at his last name, but given his earlier behavior, it’s awfully appropriate. He’s been savage with me since the get-go.

  Deacon twists his face into a scowl. “Do you know you’re named after a porn star?”

  I roll my eyes at him. “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that one, I’d be an eccentric billionaire by now with my own island and a bunch of nekkid butlers feeding me grapes.”

  “And you’d still be dead. Wouldn’t do you any good.”

  I turn to Death. “Where’d you find this ray of sunshine?”

  “In the same place I found you.” He clasps his hands behind his back, right under those beautiful glossy black wings. “Charon brought him to me, and I asked him to be my apprentice, just like I asked you.”

  Deacon looks highly affronted. “I thought you only needed one apprentice,” he argues. The boy has surly down to an art.

  “I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Death quips archly, “but my lists are long and I need those souls brought in. My other subordinates cannot do this particular job, which is why I brought you both here.”

  I look at Deacon’s chest. I don’t see any gaping holes anymore, and his shirt isn’t covered in blood, so I assume he changed while I was in here. I glance down at my own chest. It looks normal…well, as normal as a dead chest can be, anyway. I realize that Death is staring at me and that it’s time for me to make my decision.

  “I can drink coffee here in your domain?”

  Death smiles, and it’s devastating. “By the pot.”

  “And I can look in on my family from time to time?”

  He hesitates, maybe to keep from screaming at my insistent repetition, then reminds me, “I’ve shown you your family, and I’ve told you that they’ll want for nothing. It would do you no good to see them because you’ll be unable to interact with them in any way. It would be like giving you waxed fruit to eat.”

  I sigh in resignation. “Will anybody be able to see me?”

  “Some will. Those who share the talent that you had in life will be able to see and interact with you, and you’ll be able to interact with the souls that you gather.”

  I squint one eye at him. “And how do I do that, again?”

  Death levels a stern gaze on me. “I’ll tell you when you agree to be my apprentice.”

  Deacon sighs. “Come on, Sacha. It’s not that hard. Make up your damn mind.”

  “I’m getting to it,” I snap at him. “Hold your horses.”

  I’ve got a few options here.

  If I refuse to be his apprentice, then I’m dead-dead, and I’ll never see my family again, not even through the mirrors.

  If I agree, I’ll be able to go back to earth. Maybe I’ll be able to watch over Mom and Mackenzie and my new sister. I can be like a guardian angel. I might not be able to interact with them, but I might be able to affect things around them. Besides, if I work with Death, then I get to spend more time with him, and wow that’s an exceptional plus.

  I take a deep breath, painfully aware that I’m able to do so only because he’s given me my heart back. He can take it away again just as easily. He’s already demonstrated that. Why does this gorgeous son of a gun have to blackmail me?

  “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  I really don’t have much of a choice.

  Death actually appears relieved and lets out a sigh. Deacon rolls his eyes and looks like he wants to punch something. And by ‘something’ I mean me.

  “Excellent. The two of you are going to return to earth together for your first reaping. I will provide you each with a list of souls to bring to me, and I want you to work together. That’s an order.”

  The look Deacon gives me could curdle milk. I don’t get it. I haven’t done anything to this bozo, and he’s treating me like public enemy number one. If I have to work with him for the rest of forever, it’s going to be a massive drag.

  [Don’t worry about Deacon.]

  It’s Death’s voice—inside my head. I turn around and stare at him. He nods.

  [Yes. I can speak to you, mind to mind. I hear your thoughts and know your feelings.]

  Oh, sweet baby Jesus.

  That means that he can see how hot I am for him.

  I want to fall through the floor. Maybe I should have let the flowers drown me after all.

  [Don’t be ridiculous], Death scolds me.

  I think toward him, Why does Deacon hate me?

  He smiles, his eyes crinkling again. I’ll let the two of you work that out.

  I look at Deacon, and he’s staring at Death like they’ve been having a conversation, too. I wonder if it’s possible for Death to speak in each of our heads at the same time. I want to ask, but I think he’s had enough of my questions for now. If he’s my new boss, I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot. Not more than I have already, at least.

  Death holds out his hands, each one holding a scroll of ivory parchment. Deacon takes one, so I take the other. I instantly unroll it and have a look at what it says. It’s just a list of names. Lots and lots of names.

  “Collect these souls and bring them back to me,” he instructs.

  “How are we supposed to find them?” I ask, admittedly overwhelmed by the volume. “The world’s a big place.”

  “You’ll need assistance.”

  He walks to one of the doors and pulls it open. Two of the most beautiful dogs I’ve ever seen come trotting in. They’re German Shepherds, one as white as a swan and the other as black as a raven. They sit at his side and look up at us.

  “Doggies!” I squeal, unable to resist the urge to get overexcited whenever I see an animal. “Now this is definitely an office perk!”

  The white dog tilts its nose up at Death, his ice-blue eyes locked on me. “Is she damaged?”

  Whoa. I must be high on rose petals or s
omething. How is this dog talking? And with such a posh English accent?

  After everything else I’ve seen today, I shouldn’t be surprised that there are talking dogs, but I totally am.

  Death doesn’t answer the dog’s question, though he pats him on the head. “This is Zeus. His brother is Hades.”

  “Hello,” Zeus says, his tone softening.

  “Uh…hi.” I wave to him, and he dips his head. His fluffy tail wags slowly behind him. “You’re a dog.”

  “Well noticed,” Zeus throws back.

  “Mistress of the obvious,” Hades commends. His voice is considerably deeper than Zeus’, and he’s American, with a rough accent like a cab driver from the Bronx.

  “They are soul trackers,” Death explains, jutting his chin toward them. “They will help lead you to the people on your lists. Each of you, pick.”

  I think at first that he’s talking to me, but no, he’s telling the dogs to decide which one of us they want to go with.

  Zeus comes over and sits down in front of me, grinning a goofy doggy smile.

  “Can I…uhh…give you scratchies?”

  He wags his tail again. “Yes, please.”

  Hades huffs, pausing beside Deacon. “Unprofessional as always.”

  Something tells me Hades isn’t particularly fond of affection, much like his new owner.

  I reach down and scrub my fingers through Zeus’ long coat, paying close attention to the curls below his ears. He thumps his tail against the tiles in appreciation. I know I give a good scratch. My bestie has a dog, and I love on her all the time.

  “I’m glad you’re good at scratching my ears, because you make a terrible first impression,” Zeus tells me, leaning into my hand.

  Hades and Deacon look at one another, but nothing is said, at least not out loud. Deacon must have more practice with this telepathy thing than I do.

  “Zeus. Hades,” Death starts, motioning to us hoomans. “Take them.”

  I feel the world go sideways, and then I’m standing in the middle of a city street with Deacon and the dogs. A bus is coming toward us at about a hundred miles an hour, and I yelp and dive out of the way. Deacon and the dogs avoid being smashed, too, but just barely. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that Hades totally gets off on the near-miss. He’s smirking at me.

  Great. Two talking dogs, and one’s a smart aleck and the other one’s a danger freak.

  Deacon pulls out his list, and Hades looks up at him. “This way,” the dog growls, and he trots off down the sidewalk.

  We follow closely. Zeus stays beside me like an obedience school champion. Neither dog is wearing a collar or a leash. As we walk, we’re passing people, most of whom look right through us. A few glance our way, and one or two of them smile at the dogs—I mean, they’re beautiful, so who wouldn’t smile at them?—but nobody really talks to us. I’m reassured that at least a few of these people can see us. I’m not entirely invisible to the world.

  Hades turns a sharp left and goes down a dirty alley. Even though it’s the middle of the day, there’s almost no light here. The buildings on either side are too tall to allow sunlight to get all the way to the ground. There are smelly puddles and a pair of overflowing dumpsters, and behind one of them, I can see a pair of feet sticking out.

  Deacon and I walk around the trash bin and look at the man lying there. He’s emaciated and pale, and he’s got scraggly gray hair that’s sticking to his scalp. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in weeks, and that’s how he smells, too. He’s got a needle in his hand and a belt around his upper arm, and he’s shooting up. Somehow, I just know that he’s going to overdose.

  “Last high,” Hades says, with a slow, pitying shake of his head.

  Deacon nods. “Looks like it.”

  “Hey,” I call to the man. “You shouldn’t…”

  “Don’t talk to him,” Zeus warns sharply. “You can’t interfere.”

  “I can’t just stand here,” I protest. “We have to help him.”

  Deacon gives me a scathing look. “We’re not here to help him. We’re here to collect him.”

  The guy floods his vein with heroin, and his mouth forms into an ecstatic ‘O’ before he just glazes over. I can hear his heartbeat dying in his chest.

  “Oh my God,” I gasp, my blood running cold. “We just watched someone die…”

  And there was nothing I could do to help him.

  “Get used to it,” Deacon snarls, scanning his list. “Thomas Hilton?”

  The man looks up, surprised. I realize that I’m seeing two of him: his body is lying behind the dumpster, and his soul is starting to sit up.

  “Yes?” the man says.

  Deacon hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “Come with me.”

  Thomas Hilton stands up, and then he, Deacon and Hades are gone. Just like that.

  “Hey!” I shout out, spinning around. “Wait for me!”

  There’s no answer. I turn to Zeus.

  “The little jerk ran off and left me!”

  “Sure did.” Zeus shakes himself. “It stinks in here. Let’s go find your first soul.”

  He leads me out of the alley, and as we walk, I continue to complain. “I thought he was supposed to help me. I mean, wasn’t that why Death sent him with me? To show me the ropes?”

  Zeus nods his head. “Yes, it was. I guess Deacon had other ideas.”

  “Fine. That’s just fine. I don’t need him, anyway.”

  My stomach growls, reminding me that I still haven’t eaten. I was going to get food when I got plastered by that bus, and I’m hungry. Now that I’m more or less alive again, I should probably do something about that. I still have my bag with me, and I fish around inside it for a little cash. Zeus stops me before I step off the sidewalk.

  “Really?” he says. “Haven’t you learned? You got killed because you weren’t paying attention, and here you’re doing the same thing all over again. Honestly, I really do think you’re damaged somehow. Or deranged.”

  I stop and look around, chagrined. “Uh…yeah, that was dumb.”

  “Very.”

  “You didn’t have to agree with me.”

  “You shouldn’t have made it so easy.”

  I manage to find a couple of dollars, and this time, I carefully cross the street with Zeus at my heels. There’s a popular chain coffee shop that I know have really good bagels. I desperately want one, maybe the blueberry kind with the streusel topping.

  Death said I couldn’t drink coffee on earth, but he didn’t say anything about not being able to eat bagels.

  We go into the shop and it’s pretty crowded. Nobody objects to me bringing a dog into the place, so we get in line at the counter. The barista is moving at half speed and the people ahead of me are getting impatient. One of them backs up and almost knocks into me, but he doesn’t even see me. He just storms out, too annoyed to wait.

  “Some people,” a smooth tenor voice utters behind me.

  I turn around and look up into the clearest, most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. He smiles at me and it’s like being hit by a ray of sunshine. I know that sounds completely ridiculous, but it really is. He just radiates warmth and goodness, and I like him already.

  “Yeah,” I manage to say, trying not to stammer. “Rude jerk.”

  I give him a quick once-over, taking in his gorgeous body. He’s blond and buff, wearing a pair of low-slung jeans, Converse and a tight white T-shirt that doesn’t quite cover his lower torso, which I don’t mind at all.

  He offers me his hand. “Gabriel.”

  “Sacha.”

  We shake hands and I’m amazed by how warm he feels. I wonder if it’s just because I’m cold. I’m dead, after all.

  At least he’s one of the humans who can actually see me.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he offers, flashing a sexy grin.

  He smiles, I smile, the angels sing, and I swear to God, Zeus rolls his eyes. “That would be great.”

  Gabriel steps up to stand besid
e me. “What brings you here?”

  “Uh…business.” Sounds as good as anything, and it’s kind of true.

  He dips his head. “Me, too.”

  The barista finally notices us, and she looks right past me and speaks to Gabriel. “What can I get you?”

  “A chai and a sugar cookie,” he replies, “and…”

  “A bagel and a coffee. Black.”

  She doesn’t look at me. I think she can’t see me. He repeats my order to her, and she goes off to get it ready at a snail’s pace. Gabriel looks down at Zeus, who’s sitting quietly and acting like he’s a just a normal good doggo. Gabriel pats his head, and Zeus wags his tail.

  “Nice dog. He’s really pretty. What’s his name?”

  “Zeus.”

  “Nice.” He smiles. “And no leash. He’s really well trained.”

  “Thanks,” Zeus says dryly.

  Gabriel looks at him, then at me, and widens his eyes. “Ventriloquist?”

  “Something like that.”

  Zeus snorts.

  “I have to say, that’s a very pretty dress you’re wearing.” Gabriel grins at me. “Not as pretty as the girl wearing it, of course.”

  I blush, which is embarrassing. It’s not like I’ve never been paid a compliment by a drop-dead gorgeous guy before…just kidding. I’ve never had a guy like this compliment me at all!

  “Thanks,” I murmur bashfully, which is really original, I know. I just don’t know what to say. He makes my heart flutter and my palms turn sweaty.

  He’s watching me intently, and it occurs to me that I have never seen anybody whose eyes are this blue before. They almost seem to glow, and the longer I spend with him, the more flustered I get.

  The barista returns with the order, and Gabriel generously pays. He dumps the change into the tip jar, then says, “Sit with me?”

  “I’d love to, but I…I’m on the clock and I have to go.”

  Gabriel’s expression falters, clearly disappointed, which is almost a bigger compliment than his comment about my dress. “Well, it was nice to have met you, Sacha. Maybe we’ll see each other again someday.”

  I don’t know what to say. If I do see him again, it’ll probably be to reap his soul, and that would suck. I rush out of the coffee shop before I can make a fool of myself. Zeus keeps pace with me, though once we’re outside, he stops and says, “I know where your soul is.”