Grim (Death's Apprentice Book 1)

by Scarlett Snow

  Their suffering is because of me.

  Mackenzie puts the plate of massacred toast on the bedside table, and he climbs onto the mattress with our mom. She lets him crawl in around her until he’s got her in his small arms, and he starts to rock her. He’s just a little boy, but he’s doing his best to be strong for her. It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.

  I start tearing up again. “I’m sorry,” I tell them, even though I know they can’t hear me. “I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to…I…I didn’t…”

  My sobs rush out of me again, and a gentle, supportive presence steps closer. It’s Deacon, and he’s surprising me all over again. I look up into his green eyes, and the look he’s giving me is so kind I almost think he’s been possessed.

  This can’t be the same guy.

  He shakes his head, and I expect him to say, ‘I told you so,’ but he doesn’t. Instead he just backs up and takes Mrs. Spencer with him to see Death’s scales.

  Ryan walks over to me and puts his big hands on my shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. I’m glad he hasn’t crossed over yet. In fact, I’m not entirely certain that I want him to leave.

  I’m so selfish…and so utterly broken.

  I watch my mom fall asleep in my brother’s arms. Eventually, Mackenzie falls asleep, too, and I wish that I could curl up with them and do the same. An exhaustion I’ve never known before tugs at my bones, filling my body with complete emptiness.

  It hasn’t even been a full day since I died, and I’m already wishing that my undead life was over entirely.

  We end up back in Death’s office before dusk. Not that the time really matters here; it’s always daylight.

  Deacon is sitting on the desk when Ryan, Zeus and I arrive. He’s perched right on the edge, his hands between his knees, lost in thought. Hades is sprawled out under his feet, chewing on something that I really, really hope isn’t somebody’s bone. The old lady remains to be seen. Oh, gosh. I really hope it isn’t one of her bones.

  “Should you be sitting there?” Ryan scowls.

  Deacon snaps his head up, annoyed and oblivious to how rude he’s being by sitting on our boss’ desk. “Why are you still here?”

  “He still has his heart,” I answer for Ryan. “And he hasn’t been weighed.”

  “He has to cross over,” Deacon says, talking about Ryan like he’s not in the room.

  “I know that, but…”

  “But I don’t want to go,” Ryan says, folding his arms over his powerful chest. “I won’t go while Sacha is so upset.”

  The two guys gauge each other, each one daring the other to say something. They’re not being especially belligerent, but there’s some sort of tension between them, and I’m too tired to even try to understand it.

  There’s no place else to sit, so I hop up onto the desk beside Deacon. I don’t want to be sitting in the chair, stroking my dog like an evil villain, when Death arrives. Ryan starts wandering aimlessly, inspecting everything and anything. There isn’t much to see here though. Zeus sits at my feet, and I smile at him.

  Deacon speaks softly, his voice pitched so that only I can hear him. “I really wish you hadn’t gone back.”

  “Don’t say you told me so, or I just might have to kill you again.”

  “I won’t, even though I totally did.” His lips curve into a lopsided grin. He looks way more handsome when he smiles and less like a jerk. “Look, I’ve been here for three days longer than you. That’s not a lot of time on earth, but it’s like forever here. I did what you did and looked in on my family, and it was a mistake, just like it was for you.”

  I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s horrible when they grieve.”

  “It’s worse when they don’t.”

  He sounds so bottomlessly sad that it takes my breath away.

  I look over at him, and he’s looking at his hands. “Deacon…”

  “I’m not going to get into it. It’s just…Death tells us to stay away from our friends and family for a reason, you know? He’s seen this with every single soul that comes through here. It doesn’t do any good to look backward.”

  He falls silent as I consider his words. He’s dishing out wisdom here, but I’m not ready to hear it. I can’t imagine never seeing my loved ones again. They mean everything to me.

  I run a hand over my face, exhaustion creeping into me again. “I am so, so tired. I didn’t think I could be this tired and hungry, but here I am.”

  Deacon looks at me, then he pulls a covered room service tray out of thin air. The silver lid gleams in the light. “Here. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

  He gets off the desk and puts the tray down. Ryan, attracted by the promise of something new, comes wandering back over to us.

  “Voilà,” Deacon says, pulling off the lid. “Dinner is served.”

  The plate is holding a pile of French fries and the juiciest burger this side of a TV food ad. It’s simultaneously the most beautiful and disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. It smells delicious, but I’m still resenting the bagel betrayal from earlier. And for a ridiculous reason, I feel guilty about breaking the promise I made to Mom. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten anything unhealthy, though…

  “Will it turn into sand?” I inspect the food quizzically, my mouth watering.

  “Not here.”

  Ryan reaches out and takes a fry. He pops it in his mouth. “Wow! That’s, like, the tastiest thing I’ve ever had!”

  Deacon glares at him. “It’s not for you. It’s for her.”

  “Where did it come from?” The footballer looks around. “Can I get a burger?”

  “I made it,” the other apprentice says, sounding proud.

  “Can you make one for me?”

  The guys look at each other again, and I think for a minute Deacon is going to smash him with the tray lid. Instead, he looks at me. “This is for you. Go ahead and eat. I promise you, it’ll be good.”

  Like Ryan, I steal a fry. To my surprise and delight, it really is, like, the epitome of fry-ness. My empty stomach demands more, and I take the plate.

  “Thank you.”

  As soon as I take the plate, another one appears to take its place. Deacon looks at Ryan.

  “You might as well take it and eat, too,” Deacon explains, lifting his eyes from my queen of all burgers, “since your lazy ass isn’t leaving.”

  Another plate, a third one, shows up on the tray. I guess that one’s for Deacon.

  Ryan dives into his burger, watching us. With his mouth full of mushed up fries and chunks of beef, he asks, “Got any ketchup?”

  “You’re pushing your luck, bro,” Deacon grumbles, but packets of ketchup appear on our plates all the same.

  I tear mine open and squeeze the sauce into a small pile. Ryan, on the other hand, squirts the ketchup all over his fries.

  “What are you doing?” I demand, realizing that he’s one of those people. I bet he eats Oreos without twisting them apart and licking the frosting first.

  Animals.

  Ryan glances at his fries, then at me again, one of his brows lifted. “Umm. Eating?”

  “Like a barbarian! Who hurt you, dude?”

  Chuckling, Ryan continues to inhale every crumb on his plate. Deacon shrugs at me and picks up his burger. Every normal person knows you dip your fries into the sauce, or else they turn soggy. I’ll have to teach Ryan the ways of the Fry Gods.

  We eat in silence, and I’ll be honest, this is the best food I’ve ever tasted. The crisp fries crunch with every bite, and the burger practically slides down my throat, leaving a yummy aftertaste.

  “How did you do that?” Ryan swats the air, as if he’s trying to hit a fly. “The magic thingy.”

  Deacon answers before I can, though he’s looking directly at me. “You just have to imagine what you want and it will appear. It always tastes better than anything you ever ate before. It’s unlimited supplies, and you stop being hungry, but you never get overfull. I don’t know for
a fact, but I think you can eat anything you want and not gain a bit of weight.”

  That’s the best news I’ve heard in my entire death so far. “Really?”

  “I think so. I mean, I haven’t had long to put it to the test, but…” He shrugs, and a cardboard cup from my favorite coffee shop shows up on the tray. “Anything you want.”

  Coffee! Life’s blood! The nectar of the gods!

  I seize the cup hungrily. It’s just the way I like it—dark roast, one sugar, one cream. It’s so good I almost get misty-eyed inhaling the sweet fumes. I drink that baby down like I’ve been on a desert island for weeks.

  “Thanks,” I say when I’ve finished my meal and Ryan is on his third helping.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I notice that Deacon has a bottle of water in his hand. I gesture with my half-empty cup. “Do you like coffee?”

  He eyes my drink suspiciously, like he’s expecting it to attack him. “I used to.”

  He sounds amazingly sour for someone who’s just talking about an innocent beverage. “What happened?”

  “Coffee is the reason I’m dead.”

  Now, this is interesting. I raise an eyebrow and sip more black gold, hoping he’ll get the hint and keep talking. He does. It’s amazing to think this is the same surly guy I met this morning.

  “I was at a sound check for a gig,” Deacon says, focusing intently on his water. “My band and I, we were getting ready to play at my dad’s bar, and we were setting up the stage. My amp died, ’cause all our equipment was third-hand and beaten up. My buddy Steve goes, ‘use mine,’ so I switch my guitar to his amp. Except when I plug in, I don’t realize that I’m standing in some freakin’ coffee that his clumsy ass just spilled. I got electrocuted.”

  Ryan snorts a laugh, and Deacon glares at him. I shake my head. “Oh, wow. That’s so random. Talk about your bad luck!”

  “Yeah. It sucks.”

  “Could’ve been worse,” Ryan says. “You died with your guitar in your hand, doing what you loved. I got smashed by falling bricks while I was walking home from class.”

  I wiggle my eyebrows at Ryan. “I can top that.”

  “Oh, yeah?” His eyes widen into black orbs filled with glee.

  “I got hit by a bus. Literally. As I was crossing the road to buy lunch.”

  He lets out a long whistle. “Shit, man. Harsh.”

  I manage to smile. “Tell me about it. If I were going to buy some cake, I could probably, like, deal. But carrots? That’s really how the Big Guy wanted my life to end?”

  For just a second, even though we’re talking about how we all met our untimely demise, things feel normal. It’s like hanging around with friends.

  Deacon Savage—my friend.

  I thought the guy wanted to strangle me this morning. Now he’s rather…pleasant, and a little sweet.

  My hunger and caffeine withdrawals are a distant memory now. I’m feeling a lot calmer. The empty plates and glasses disappear back into the mist, returning to wherever they came from, and I remember my manners.

  “Thanks for the food,” I say to Deacon, giving him a genuine smile, “and for telling me your story.”

  He gives a casual shrug. “Well…you made it a whole day, a whole bad day, without asking to be cut loose, so I figure we’ll be working together for a while. Might as well make the most of it.”

  “I’m staying for a while, too,” Ryan chirps in, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Zeus sits up, then Hades abandons his bone and does the same. They both look at the door to the Room of Mirrors, their expressions alert.

  “Guess the boss is coming,” I say, training my gaze on the silver door.

  Sure enough, the door opens, and Death comes out with Mrs. Spencer. The old lady beams at us, and he escorts her to the stairs going up.

  Looks like somebody got her wings.

  Deacon seems really happy for her. He’s smiling properly for once, and I start to think that maybe he’s got a good person hiding inside him, like an alien pod or something. I don’t really understand him, to be honest. He can be such a jerk but sometimes he can be really cool, too.

  Will the real Deacon Savage please stand up?

  Death comes back and gives Ryan a hard look. He’s probably mad I never took Ryan to a standard Reaper for delivery. I just wasn’t sure where to find them.

  “It’s time.” Two words from Death, with absolutely no room for interpretation or disagreement.

  Ryan sighs and turns to me. “Thanks for letting me hang out with you. I will totally be seeing you again soon. I promise.”

  He takes my hands and kisses me on the cheek. I feel flustered, like a little girl, and squeeze his hands.

  “Good luck, Ryan,” I breathe, looking up at him. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “You, too.” He starts to walk away with Death, then stops and looks at us again. “Listen, I used to play quarterback. That means I called the plays on the field and I started the team rolling with every snap. I know how to make things happen. If I can find a way to get back to you, I will.”

  Deacon says, “No hurry.”

  I jab him in the side with my elbow. “I hope you’re right.”

  “Ryan Hamilton,” Death says, his tone considerably harsher. Guess now I know my new buddy’s last name. “Come with me.”

  This time, Ryan doesn’t argue. He gives me a pained smile, shoots Deacon a salute, then he follows Death into the room with the scales. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Deacon mutters something under his breath.

  I snap my head to him. “What was that?”

  “Nothing. Just…good riddance.”

  “Rude. So darn rude. What’s your problem?”

  Zeus speaks up. “It’s his way, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Oh, I had.” I huff and look around. “So this is what eternity is going to be, huh? Stuck working with a jerk?”

  Zeus looks up at me. “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t really expecting anything. I just…never imagined anything like this.”

  “Me neither,” Deacon confirms morosely, frowning once more.

  Hades sits down with his bone again. He makes a lot of noise, crunching away, and it’s starting to get on my nerves. I’m about to say something when the door to the Room of Mirrors opens up again and Death takes Ryan up the stairs.

  Ryan takes a moment to wave goodbye before he mounts the last of the stairs and then vanishes from view.

  I’m already going to miss that guy.

  I take a deep breath and blow it out. I feel better since I ate, but I’m still shaky. Thoughts of my family run through my mind, and I shove them away. If I start to think about Mom, I’ll just start crying again, and I’m so, so tired of crying. I rarely cried when I was alive. Why do I have to be such a blubbering mess now?

  Death comes back into view, giving us a small but genuine smile. “You’ve both done well today,” he congratulates. “You’ve both earned your wings.”

  I look at his black feathers. They’re so black they’re almost blue, and they shine in the light. It’s like the glossiest of raven feathers.

  “Will our wings look like yours?” The question slips from me before I realize. “It’s just, yours are so beautiful.”

  He spreads out his wings until his flight feathers are fully extended. His wingspan is absolutely enormous. I guess they would have to be if he’s a grown man who’s expecting to fly. My tired brain goes off on a tangent, wondering what else about him might be huge. He gives me this look and I know I should want to die, but I’m just too tired to care. I don’t even bother looking away from his crotch—I mean, the floor.

  “They’ll be similar,” he finally answers aloud, dragging my attention upward, “but distinctive to the two of you.”

  He folds his wings back, then he looks at us for a minute. Deacon and I stare back, barely even blinking. Hades gnaws on his bone, which gives a loud, disgusting crack, and I shu
dder. Gross!

  Death smiles again. “I can see that you’re both weary. You should get some sleep.”

  I look around, hoping he doesn’t want us to curl up on the floor. White tiles are nice and all, but they make a rotten mattress.

  Deacon doesn’t bother asking where we’re supposed to sleep. “Yeah. Sounds good.” He walks toward one of the doors, one that I haven’t seen open yet. He stops with his hand on the knob and says over his shoulder, “Good night.”

  I watch him disappear into the room and close the door. Death opens the one beside it, and Hades trots through, his bone in his mouth. Zeus gets up and goes to yet another closed door, and Death lets him in. That door closes with a soft click, signaling that it’s my turn.

  I take a sharp breath and watch my boss. He comes closer to me, and I can’t keep eye contact. I look away. When Death stops beside me, his cold hands cup my cheeks, and he turns my face up toward him. My eyes meet his, and he’s standing so close and is so beautiful that I can hardly breathe.

  “You’re weary and sad,” he says, his hoarse voice a whisper. “I can see that you’ve been weeping. Are you all right?”

  I find that I can’t speak without wanting to cry, so I only nod. He’s sympathetic, which is comforting.

  “This has been a very eventful day for you, and a very trying one. I understand that you might be feeling overwhelmed.”

  I nod again, but this time I do find my voice. “And tired. I’m just so tired. It’s crazy.”

  He glances over his shoulder at Deacon’s room. I feel like he’s checking to make sure that the door’s shut. I don’t know why that matters until Death actually scoops me up in his arms.

  He’s strong, and as he carries me, I can feel rock-hard muscles flexing underneath his tailored suit. He holds me close but not too tight, cradling me like I’m something special and sacred that he just found. His dark eyes bore into mine, and unlike before, this time I just can’t look away from them.