“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agrees, though his tone isn’t stern like it had been before. “Your heart was in the right place. Just next time, if I tell you no…”
“I’ll listen,” I promise him, but even as I say the words, I wonder if it’s a promise I’ll be able to keep.
Death’s breathing is shallow as he falls asleep. I sit beside him and watch, afraid that his chest will stop rising and falling if I look away or leave him. Ryan looks like he wants to sit beside me, but Gabriel takes him out of the room.
Deacon stares down at Death in concern and worry. He finally breaks the silence and says, “I think we should bring back souls from our lists now before the bad guys interfere more. I just don’t know what to do with them when we get them here. I mean, I don’t think he’s going to be up to weighing them, do you?”
I shake my head. “Maybe just bring them up and leave them in the lobby?” I suggest, unable to tear my gaze away from Death. “They can imagine themselves having a cocktail party or something.”
Deacon snorts, then falls silent again and watches our boss sleep for a moment. “Should we wait?”
He sounds as uncertain as I am.
I look down into Death’s face. “I don’t know. The Devil isn’t trying to get to the souls on our lists, so they’re sort of safe for now, I guess…”
“They’re still dying in the near future,” Deacon frets. “What happens if we’re not there when they do?”
Death sighs. [Continue to retrieve the souls. I will attend to them when I can. We mustn’t let them be claimed by the forces of Hell.]
We both hear him, and Deacon nods. “Okay, Boss. Rest up. Sacha…stay with him a while.”
It’s good he said that, because we both know I’m not budging.
Death sleeps for several hours. I sit beside him, my guilt eating away at me with every second that ticks by. Gabriel said he forgives me, but I still need to apologize to my boss. After all, he’s the one who got hurt in all of this. I just can’t seem to find the right words.
I’m sorry that I almost got you killed. I’m sorry I’m such a failure at being your apprentice. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!
No matter how many times I go over my apology in my head, I can’t seem to get the words out.
As the hours drift by, I find myself nodding off, lulled by the sound of running water and the wind whistling through the trees. I’m about to give in and rest my head on the side of the bed when Death slowly opens his eyes.
I’m so happy to see him awake that I almost jump out of my skin. “Hey, you’re alive!”
He smiles weakly and takes my hand. “I am.”
I want to kiss him, or smash him into the biggest hug ever. I just hold his hand tightly. “You had us all scared for a moment”
“My apologies.”
I can tell that there’s still something not right. He’s terribly pale, but it’s more than that. He closes his eyes again, even though he’s awake. His disheveled hair is slightly stuck to his forehead and his breathing is irregular.
Taking a deep breath, I blurt out, “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I never expected you to come for me, and when you did, I was so happy but then you got injured and Lucifer poisoned you with that spear and I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it. Everything happened so quickly and I never in a million years thought it was all a trap and that Lucifer was using me as bait.” I take another sharp breath, my face burning with even more shame. “I’m the reason you got hurt and I’m so, so sorry.”
“You’re not to blame for my injury,” he whispers, his voice rough. He sighs. I think talking aloud is too hard for him because he switches to mind-to-mind. [I couldn’t leave you there. I know what he’s capable of.]
You knew that he was going to try to kill you, but you came for me anyway.
It’s not a question. I knew this the instant I realized Lucifer used me to lure Death into his trap.
[Of course.]
I want to ask him if that’s because I’m his apprentice, or if there’s some deeper meaning. I don’t formulate the question, but since he’s in my head, I don’t really need to.
He opens his dark eyes again and looks up at me. [Do I really need to answer that?]
Before I think about what I’m doing, I lean down and kiss him.
His lips are soft against mine, and he’s still weak, but there’s so much emotion behind the touch that I’m convinced I’m more than just an apprentice to him.
And he’s more than just a boss to me.
He’s too weak to do more than the one kiss, and that’s okay. There’s no need to rush things. We have time. He said before that the only thing that really exists here in the Plainlands is Time, which we have plenty of.
Death’s face turns sorrowful. [Sacha…there’s something you should know. Something about me, and my apprentices.]
You can tell me anything.
His eyes flick between my own. [You won’t like it.]
Try me.
He takes a long moment to contemplate. I give his hand a reassuring squeeze, utterly relieved to see a hint of color returning to his face. When he still doesn’t speak, I decide to start the conversation myself.
Why does your father hate you so much?
[Because I betrayed him.]
His reply is instant and takes me off guard.
I remain quiet, waiting for him to go on.
He eases back onto his pillow and looks intently at me. [A long time ago, I was supposed to be my father’s heir apparent. He wanted me to take the earth as my own domain, to rule over humans before they died. I even went to earth to see them, to see what life was like. I…I fell in love with the world, and with the people in it. Life. Life is sacred, Sacha, and he was asking me to betray it. So I betrayed him.
[I was supposed to enslave the world. I wanted to set it free. So he tricked me… I was told that by giving up the part of me that was him, I would be freed from Hell and allowed to live on earth as a part of the world. But he lied. I ended up selling him my soul.
[My father betrayed me as I betrayed him. I refused to create Hell on earth, so he made it that I could never see the world I loved, except through mirrors. Only through mirrors…and worse. Since I loved life so well, he made it so my existence, which was meant to be eternal, would have a time limit, and that I would need to do something awful to continue it. But if I didn’t continue it, souls would be stolen into Hell’s torment, and I needed to prevent that. I’m cursed, Sacha. I betray everything that I love.]
I’m disgusted at what I’m hearing. What kind of father could be so cruel to his own son? Then again, he’s the Devil. There’s probably no level of cruelty that Lucifer wouldn’t stoop to.
[You see, when an eternal being doesn’t have their soul, the bodies they choose to occupy start to weaken over time. As a result, they must regenerate every so often before their body withers. I must regenerate, or else I’ll no longer exist. It’s like a piece of fruit that’s steadily been rotting.
[Without my soul, I’ll never regain my full powers and I cannot enter the mortal realm. I’m bound only to the Plainlands and to Hell. This is why I need reapers and apprentices. Why I need you, Sacha.]
There’s a weighted feeling rising in my chest. I can feel it crushing my ribs, making it hard to breathe again. I don’t know where this conversation is headed, but Death’s right, I’m probably not going to like it.
If your father did this to you, why did he let us go? I highly doubt my pinch of salt injured him that much.
[He grew tired of our visit.]
So he just let us go?
[Yes. He only wanted to teach me a lesson. He wanted to remind me what he’s capable of doing to me in my weakened state. Without my soul, he can overpower me no matter how ruthlessly I fight. He’ll always have the upper hand, especially when I enter his domain.]
And yet Death still came to save me.
You and Daddy Satan have some serious family issues.
[I’ve grown to accept that some things are destined to remain unchanged.] His smile fades away like melted snow. [When my current body starts to weaken, I must seek out a new host. This is the only time when I’ll accept two, instead of one, apprentices. The one who proves themselves worthy enough will then become my new host. I’ll regenerate.]
“Y-you can’t be serious,” I say out loud, my heart rate accelerating. I let go of his hand and frown at him. “You mean that…Deacon and I…are your potential hosts? You’ve been grooming us?”
Death nods hesitantly. “I’m sorry, Sacha.”
“What happens to us when you regenerate?”
His prolonged silence speaks unthinkable volumes.
I push off the bed and back away from him, horrified. Words fail me. I feel utterly tricked and betrayed. It’s like Death has been fattening us up like pigs to the slaughter, leading both Deacon or I to our eventual, and this time eternal, death. He will take our bodies and we will cease to exist. I know it’s not his fault and that he has a job to do. Without a host to reside in, he can’t continue the natural order of life and death. But to lead us on blindly like this…
A million thoughts race through my mind, spinning like an out of control washing machine. I can’t even look at him.
With my gaze fixed on the floor, I ask in a whisper, “When did you plan on telling us?”
In my peripheral vision, he tries to rise onto his elbows. The effort must be too much for him, and he curses before leaning back onto his pillow. [I—]
“Actually, why did you even choose me?”
This time I do look up, and I glare at him.
I know he’s recovering after risking his life for me, but he’s also been lying to me since day one. Surely I have a right to be angry about that?
[I never chose you, Sacha. The mirrors choose the apprentice.]
“Okay, Ollivander,” I growl at him, “why did the mirrors choose me?”
[Your loyalty to your family. Your kindness and bravery. Your heart was made of gold, just like I showed you. You were—are a worthy candidate.]
“What if I no longer want to be your candidate?” I continue to scowl at him as I pace at the foot of the bed. Finally, something more important sticks out to me. I jerk to a halt. “Did you kill me? Is that how this thing works?”
To my relief, he shakes his head. [I could never bring harm to you.]
“Pfft. Yeah.” I begin pacing again, trying to make sense of everything.
Five minutes ago, I was kissing the Grim Reaper. Now I want to kill him with my bare hands.
Before I do anything rash, I head for the door. I pause before leaving, and glance back at Death. “I need some time alone to process everything.”
[Of course,] he whispers, his eyebrows drawn together. [Sacha, please understand that—]
“Can you do me a favor and stay out of my head for a while?”
There’s a pause, and then Death nods. “Take all the time you need.”
Outside his room, I lean against the door and try to calm myself down. Our entire conversation plays through my head. Death. Lucifer. Trapped soul. Host. Regeneration.
I can’t go through with this—with any of this. There’s got to be a way around Death’s regeneration.
If he got his soul back, he wouldn’t need to regenerate, right?
Therefore, he wouldn’t need to pick either Deacon’s body or mine as his new host. But more importantly, he wouldn’t be taken from me.
He would still be here, and I’d be able to be with him.
And Deacon.
And Ryan and Gabriel.
Nothing would change. Everything would keep going like it had been before the truce was broken.
The question is, how do I convince Lucifer to give me back Death’s soul? I close my eyes, hoping for a different answer, but there is only one…
You give him your soul instead.
I go out into the lobby and look at the doors. The stairs catch my attention and I turn to them. Could it really be as simple as going down the stairs to Hell? It’s unlikely to be that easy, but I’ve got to try it before asking any of the guys for help. Not that I can see any of them hanging around.
I go to the steps leading down. They start out white tile like the rest of the floors here in the Plainlands, but the farther down they go, the darker they get. They start getting sort of grungy, like a floor that hasn’t been mopped in too long, but by the time they disappear into the mist, they’re a dark gray. They probably turn all the way black once they reach the bottom.
I take a deep breath and start climbing down. The mist thickens ahead of me, almost like it’s reacting to my presence. It roils up the stairs at me, filling the space and hiding the remaining steps. When I descend far enough to reach the mist, I find that even though it still looks like vapor, it’s gone solid. I can’t push through or squeeze around it. It’s like someone thought the stairs were a drain and decided to set the plug.
Well, at least I know that the way to Hell isn’t so painfully obvious. I can scratch the stairs off my list. Unfortunately, it also means I have no other choice but to ask the guys for help…if I can find them.
Since Deacon’s room is closest to me, I peek inside. He wasn’t lying when he said he lived on a remote island. There’s water all around, and palm trees heavy with coconut, and a beach that stretches as far as the eye can see. There’s also a recording studio, with a huge poster containing the words SAVAGE SNOW. That must have been his band name.
Given what Deacon said about not being good enough, it makes sense why the studio is so isolated. It’s similar to when I danced alone at school. It always made me feel more at ease and less critical. He probably records music here in his free time. I wonder if I’ll ever hear any of it.
I leave his room, deciding I’ll probably not find him here.
On a hunch, I go into the Room of Mirrors. Maybe, if he went down to earth to gather souls, I’ll be able to find him.
The room feels colder than normal when I walk in, and the tree is losing some of its leaves. The topmost branches at the crown are withering away, dropping the tiny mirrors into the white grass. Some of the mirrors have broken where they landed, and the reflective splinters are still trying to do their duty. A hundred iterations of the same street scene are playing like scattered videos at my feet.
I find Gabriel under the tree. He’s inspecting a piece of the bark. It crumbles in his hand, turning to ashes. Even the rotating earth above has been damaged by black patches, the countries barely recognizable.
Gabriel sighs, and I’ve never heard anyone sound so hopeless. Guilt stabs at me again. This is all my fault. I have to make it right.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Gabriel starts, not even looking at me.
I take an instinctive step back, the guilt pressing harder on my chest. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it until I’m blue in the face and you all believe me, but…” I trail off, wondering how best to word my request. I’ve never been the greatest wordsmith, which leaves me with no option but to just come out with it. “I need your help, Gabriel. I need you to take me down to Hell.”
He turns a sharp glare on me. “Are you insane?”
I try to smile, and if it looks at all as weak as it feels, it’s pretty uninspiring. “Probably…but I can’t think of anything else.”
I put my hand on the tree, and more bark disintegrates beneath my touch. Ashes fall to the ground, creating a dark smudge. I let go with a gasp.
The Tree of Life is dying, and so is its keeper.
He looks away from me. “Go get some rest, Sacha, before you do anything foolish.”
“That’s the thing. As crazy as this sounds, I don’t think it’s actually foolish. You see, when I was down there, Lucifer said something that didn’t make a lot of sense at the time.”
“He said that he didn’t want to surrender me because I have some kind of ability,” I continue, stepping in front of him. “Now I don’t know what that ability is. But Lucifer saw it, when I was dancing, and suddenly his plans…changed.”
He looks up at me, both guarded and distressed. “Where are you going with this?”
“If he wanted to keep me, he obviously has a use for me. I may be able to convince him to release Death’s soul in exchange for my ability…whatever that is. It’s all I’ve got to offer.”
His eyes darken into crimson pools again. “All you’ve got to offer? Sacha, have you any idea what Lucifer will do to you? What this betrayal would do to Death? I won’t allow it.”
I stand my ground, knowing this is the only solution. “Gabriel, it’s the only wa—”
“I won’t lose you again.”
“Won’t you lose me anyway, if Death chooses me in the end?”
Realization dawns on his face. “He told you.”
“Yeah. He told me. Now, if you want me—the real me—to stick around, you’ll help me out… Please, Gabe? I’m begging you here.”
There’s a long, painful silence. “I don’t want to lose you at all. When he chose you as his apprentice, I…I confess, I was angry with him. You’re special, Sacha. I can’t let him take you that way, but I haven’t been able to see any way around it. You’re a better match for him than Deacon. That’s not meant as an insult to him, because under his irritability, Deacon is a fine soul. It’s just that sometimes two energies mesh better than others.” He draws a heavy sigh and closes his eyes. “The thought of spending the next century looking at Death but seeing you is killing me.”
I put my hands on his shoulders. “Then help me.”
“What you’re asking is suicide.”
“It’s a solution.”
“Not a very good one,” he objects, but there’s no fight in his voice. I think he’s realizing what I already know—that this is the only way.
Still, he shakes his head at me. “I’m sorry but I will not be the one to put you into Lucifer’s cage. That’s what he does. He takes anything that means something to Death, and he cages them, just like he caged Harmony.”
Grim (Death's Apprentice Book 1) Page 12