Death takes me to another door. It opens before we even reach it. Inside is a beautiful bedroom with a four-poster bed. A white comforter is draped over the thick mattress, with tiny silver flowers and a thin silver border. It’s the only thing in the room that isn’t white. I think there’s other furniture, but I’m in the arms of a handsome man, so what do I care if there’s dressers or lamps? My heart pounds as he carries me to the bed.
Is this really happening?
He hears me, because of course he does, and sets me gently on the bed. I stare up at him as he straightens, wondering if he’s going to lie down, too, or if he’s going to kiss me. I also wonder what I’m going to do.
Just kidding.
If this handsome sucker comes in for a kiss, I’m going to kiss him back.
I’m exhausted, but not so much that I’m going to let an opportunity like this slide.
But he’s also my boss. Should I be fantasizing about kissing him? Should my boss be carrying me into a bedroom like this? It’s not really appropriate, I don’t think.
Screw appropriate. I like it.
Death bends down again. His soft lips come in like he’s going to kiss me. He doesn’t go for my mouth, though. Instead, he presses a sweet, chaste kiss to my forehead, right over my third eye. The contact makes my body feel like it’s been injected with glitter, all sparkles and shine, but it also makes me feel incredibly sleepy.
He covers me with the white and silver comforter and pats it down around my legs, tucking me in. It’s sweet and undemanding, and so reassuring that I don’t mind him treating me like a child. I kind of feel like a lost little girl right now anyway, so it’s not entirely off base.
“You’re very tired,” he tells me, and I am extremely aware of that fact. “You need rest. I’ll come for you in the morning. Things will be easier tomorrow.”
I want to believe him. I’m just afraid, and missing my family so much it hurts.
Death smiles softly, then drifts out of the room, his wings scraping off the floor behind him. The door clicks shut, but it doesn’t lock.
The first thing I think is that I need to tell Mom about my day. Then I realize that I’ll never be able to tell her anything ever again, and the tears start pouring out of me once more. In this beautiful bedroom, surrounded by everything strange and sad, I cry myself to sleep.
Until you have your heart ripped out of your chest, you will never know how lucky you are. And I’m not talking about a broken heart. I’m literally referring to someone yanking the organ out of your body like a freaking splinter.
It isn’t pretty, and simple things like laughing, crying, even just breathing, will suddenly mean the world to you. Believe me. I know this now. I get how much I took these things for granted when I was alive. But I was young in the living world, and healthy. Worrying about dying was quite honestly the last thing on my mind.
As I open my eyes the next morning, I’m blissfully aware of every breath that I take, each normal throbbing of my heart, and I can’t help but appreciate, well, being alive again. It’s like everything has been amplified while I slept, heightening my senses to extreme levels.
My sense of smell was never the strongest. Now I can catch the scent of wildflowers fluttering in the breeze, mingled with fresh pinewood, moss, and herbs. The mattress cradling my body feels like a bed of clouds. I blink up at the clear-blue sky above me. Birds sing in the trees standing proudly at all ends of my room.
Room is a bit of an understatement.
I’m in the middle of a forest.
The antique furniture is placed on a dark wooden surface that looks like a parquet dance floor. But where the floorboards end, freshly mown grass springs up, and acres of trees and delicate flowers spread out around me, dappled in sunlight.
I straighten into a sitting position, scanning my surroundings with fresher eyes. I gasp as a beautiful white stag rustles through the autumn leaves some yards away. He bends over and grabs a mouthful of greenery, his pale-blue eyes fixed on me. The blush of pink rose bushes shadowing him merely adds to the picturesqueness, and I wish I had my cellphone to capture the moment.
The stag hops through the bush, and I smile, warmed by his beauty.
I close my eyes and think about a yummy, foamy, caramel latte. Mmm. Just what I need right now. It takes a strenuous amount of effort not to imagine Death, or that cutie in the coffee shop, here in bed with me. Heck, even Ryan the ghost, because why should I choose?
Once my coffee appears, and I devour the contents like a starved beast—because I really need coffee to function properly, otherwise people are going to get punched—I throw my legs over the bed and push off.
The forest stretches endlessly around me, bustling with wildlife and birds swooping through the cherry blossoms.
I never realized how breathtaking it was last night. And weird. So weird. But totally awesome. Because who wouldn’t want to live in a forest? Time to embrace my inner wood elf.
The best thing of all, though? There’s not an insect or reptile in sight. This really is like heaven to me.
As I look around for a shower, the animals keep a safe distance from me. The forest must be more of the European kind, because luckily I don’t spot any bear or large predator tracks. I highly doubt Death would put any dangerous animals in here. Deacon, on the other hand, might just try his luck.
The sound of running water reaches my ears. About fifty yards from my bed, I stumble across a gorgeous waterfall. Its frothy cascade plunges into a blue-green pool, and the sun gleams off the rippling surface. On a soft bed of grass, surrounded by sunbaked rocks, there’s a toilet, sink, and an enormous bath tub.
Deciding to wash first, I strip off my clothes and ease myself into the pool. The water is warm and infused with some kind of lavender oil. Fish glisten underneath me as I wade through the water, flashes of gold in the cerulean depths. I dip my hair under the surface, then I float onto my back and gaze at the sky.
Yesterday was undoubtedly the craziest day of my life. Or undeath. Whatever it is now. After sobbing myself to sleep, I dreamed of my family, and I was holding my baby sister. Mom and Mackenzie were at my side, their arms around me, and there were black roses everywhere.
It was the most beautiful and painful thing I’ve ever felt.
But then Death appeared in the distance, and when we smiled at each other, my family turned into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. I watched them flutter away as a sense of relief filled me. It was like I had accepted my fate and let them go.
Today is a new day, and I’m supposed to be getting my wings. So what if I’m essentially a Grim Reaper? This is sort of a second chance at life. I don’t want to waste it.
Plus, there’s already been some major benefits, like being able to have anything I can imagine and an adorable ball of fluff named Zeus. I never thought I needed a talking dog in my life until I met him.
Once I finish washing, I bundle my clothes into my arms and walk back to my room. It feels strangely liberating to walk around naked. I’m dry by the time I get back, and I curiously inspect the French wardrobe for something to wear. I’m surprised to find the closet already packed with shoes and clothes—all of them my size, and precisely my taste, which is pretty much anything black.
Did Death buy me these? My heart skips a beat at the thought. I’m acting so silly. He’s my boss. I can’t have a crush on him.
Shaking my head, I pick a short-sleeved blouse with a low neckline, and pencil skirt that has a kicky little slit in the back to let me move. I slip my feet into a pair of slingback heels, thankful that such a cute pair of shoes can be surprisingly comfy. I take the bag of salt out from yesterday’s dress and tuck it in my skirt pocket, then I turn to the oval mirror beside the bed.
Wow. I look so professional.
Mom would be super proud of me like this. Katie probably wouldn’t believe her eyes. I have a job now, and minus the wet hair, I look like a sexy secretary. I’m all grown up!
A fluffy white rabbit scampe
rs behind me, and I jump, spinning around. The little fuzz ball sniffs the edge of my bed, her crimson eyes finding me, before she vanishes into the woods.
Would it be socially acceptable to boop a bunny on the nose? Because I really want to.
Coffee. Animals. Trees and waterfalls.
It’s like I’m trapped in another dream, only this one is pleasant.
My bedroom door creaks open.
“Don’t come in, I’m naked,” I call out with a giggle, facing the door.
My laughter dies when Deacon eases into my bedroom. I stupidly hoped it was either Death or Ryan. My stomach flips as I recall Ryan climbing the stairs last night. He said I’ll see him again. I really hope he was right.
“What is it?” I ask Deacon, schooling my features.
Deacon strolls toward me, dressed in all black. His auburn hair is damp, sticking to his temples, and I can smell the mint body wash he must have used in his shower. “I thought you said you were naked?”
I shrug at him. “I thought you were somebody else. I was wishful thinking.”
He snorts, dragging a hand through his hair. Droplets of water fall onto the floor, and he glances at them, then at the rest of my room.
“This isn’t half bad,” he says with an approving nod.
“Not half bad?” I gawk at him. “Um. Hello? We’re in the middle of a freakin’ forest!”
“Well, my room’s on a remote island.”
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” I shout, clapping my hands with mock enthusiasm. “What are you here for, anyway?”
Deacon points a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s wing time, baby.”
I stroll by him while pulling my hair into a loose braid. Pausing beside him, I whisper into his ear, “Call me baby again and I’ll punch you in the throat.”
“Oh, scary,” he mutters back, following me outside.
Yesterday, Deacon despised me. Today, he’s giving me nicknames. This guy is so hot and cold that I can’t keep up.
Oh, that reminds me, I really need to use the bathroom. I’m not like the girls in my favorite book series who magically never need to go to the restroom or eat anything.
Death is nowhere to be seen in the lobby, and sadly, neither is Ryan.
I turn to Deacon. “So. Where do I turn into a beautiful swan? I’ve always waited for this day. You know, ugly duckling into a swan.”
“Don’t sound too excited,” he huffs, shaking his head. He gestures to the Room of Mirrors. “In here.”
“Umm, wait up. I’ll be right back.”
I dodge back into my room and over to the plumbing to take care of business. While I’m attending to bodily needs—and who knew that would still be necessary after you’re dead?—I take a little time to think.
Honestly, I’m not sure how I should feel about getting my wings. Will it hurt? Am I going to be in agony when they burst out of my back? Probably no more than getting hit by a bus, I suppose.
Once I’m done with answering Nature’s call, I rejoin Deacon in the lobby. Office. Whatever. He leads the way into the Room of Mirrors. Death is standing under the tree again, his gorgeous wings spread out, and he’s looking at us, his lips curved. My heart flutters and a rush of heat rises into my cheeks. God, he’s stupidly handsome.
Death’s gaze lingers on me for a moment, and he smiles. “Today is an auspicious day. You are both ready to take the next step in your evolution as my apprentices.” Gesturing to his breathtaking wings, he adds, “Today you will gain your wings for the first time.”
I roll my neck and shrug. “Cool. Let’s do this. How do I get wings? Do you cast a spell, or is there a potion that I drink?”
“Something like that.” He raises his voice ever so slightly. “Gabriel, if you please.”
The door opens. An angel with pristine white wings and a perfectly tailored white suit enters the room. I almost fall over when I see his face. It’s the same Gabriel who bought me a sand bagel and nonexistent coffee down on earth.
Deacon gives me an irritated look. “What’s the matter now? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Gabriel is holding a silver chalice in his hand, and he extends it to Death, who accepts the object reverently. They’re stunning to look at, standing side by side—Gabriel, all in white with those snowy wings, and Death in black with his raven feathers. The angel smiles at me and nods. I try to nod back, but I’m pretty sure it just looks like a muscle twitch.
Death holds the chalice in his hands and looks up at us. “Come forward,” he directs.
We do, moving to stand right up in front of him. He reaches into the chalice with his right hand and pulls out a leaf that looks like it’s made of pure gold.
“This is a leaf from the Tree of Life, brought to you directly from the garden of the Higher Power. You have both done a great service in retrieving Heaven’s souls. You have assisted the angels, and it’s now time for you to become the true Angels of Death.”
Angel of what now?
He presents each of us with one little gold leaf.
“Put these on your tongues, and your transition will begin.”
I glance nervously at Deacon, who doesn’t hesitate at all. He puts the leaf in his mouth and closes his eyes. I’m not sure what to do, but it seems like he’s doing the right thing, so I copy him and close my eyes, too.
It tastes like light.
The leaf is warm and a little sweet, and it dissolves on my tongue immediately, spreading warmth through my body like on a hot summer’s day. I hear Deacon grunt, and I open my eyes to look at him when I’m overcome with a horrible pain in my back. I cry out in surprise. It feels like I’m being ripped apart from the inside out, almost like when Death pulled out my heart but much, much worse.
I hunch over, doubled in pain. Something writhes across my back, tearing the skin away layer by layer. This is just what I was terrified of happening, and I let out a demeaning scream. But then the pain is gone, and I feel them.
Wings.
You’d think that it would take some time to figure out how to handle limbs I’d never had before, but honestly, it’s like I’ve had them all along. I just know how to move them, and I spin around, surprisingly giddy. I give them a stretch, looking at the feathers as they spread out to my sides. My wings are black, like Death’s, but the longer feathers are electric blue. They’re beautiful, if I do say so myself. It’s a pity they ripped my only dress though.
I look over at Deacon. His wings are just as gorgeous, though his feathers are fiery red. We’re like two sides of a coin, and I’m weirdly happy to see that we sort of complement each other.
Death smiles at us, then returns the chalice to Gabriel. The angel smiles at me and winks one beautiful blue eye. I almost open my mouth to say something to him, but Death snaps his fingers and we’re someplace else.
I find myself standing on a rocky cliff, so close to the edge that I’m afraid to move.
Death strolls right up to the edge and turns to face us, balancing on the balls of his feet. If he were to lower his feet, his heels would be hanging off into mid-air. “This is where you test your wings. Step off into the unknown and let your instincts guide you.”
Is he insane? Sure the wings feel completely natural attached to my body, but I don’t know anything about flying!
I peek over the edge. The cliff face is absolutely sheer, dropping straight down to jagged rocks and a roiling sea.
“My instinct says to stay on solid land,” I tell him with a nervous smile. “Gotta trust those instincts, right?”
Deacon walks up to where Death is standing. Our boss gives him a nod of approval.
“Okay, then,” my coworker says. He looks at me. “Stay here and be a coward if you want. I’m gonna try out these sweet babies.”
Still facing me, he flings himself off the cliff, doing a freaking back flip like some sort of Olympic gymnast. I have no idea where he learned to do that. I rush toward the edge, watching him as he descends.
For a long moment
, he just falls, plummeting like a stone through water, but then he gives his wings a strong downward beat. He catches the air current and soars up toward the clouds. It’s beautiful and awe-inspiring.
Well, heck.
Death turns to me. “Your turn.”
As cool as these wings are, I’m getting cold feet. “I don’t know…”
“You must do this,” Death urges. “This is necessary for you to continue as my apprentice. It’s the next step in your development.”
I look down at those sharp rocks at the bottom of the cliff. “What if I don’t do it right? What if I just fall? That’s gonna hurt like a peach.”
“But if you don’t jump, you’ll never know what it feels like to fly. Trust me. I won’t let you fall, Sacha. I’ll catch you.”
There’s something about the way he says those words that makes me shiver.
I take a deep breath while debating my options. I know I have to do this. I just don’t want to. But I’m also not a quitter, and no way will I let Deacon win this round. If I don’t jump now, he’ll forever make me look like a coward.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a drastic leap of faith…and I jump off the cliff.
I thought I had these wings figured out. Once again, I’m terribly mistaken. As soon as I start to fall, panic violently rushes in, and I’m dreadfully aware of what a stupid decision I just made.
My screams are muffled from the wild rush of the air as I fall, and I can scarcely breathe, let alone think about what to do. The wind surges between my feathers. I can’t get them to move in tandem, and I don’t know how to angle them to catch the breeze. I’m plummeting toward the rocks and I’m certain I’m going to smash myself into a whole new death. One that was more painful than getting turned into roadkill.
Then my wings decide they’re going to work after all. Almost as if they’ve taken pity on me and are acting on their own, they flap downward. I rise, and quite soon I’m flying.
There is no feeling like it. The wind in my hair, the speed, the way the air is cool but seems to hold me in its hand…it’s intoxicating.
Grim (Death's Apprentice Book 1) Page 7