Grim (Death's Apprentice Book 1)

by Scarlett Snow

  I open my mouth to press him—who is Harmony?—but Gabriel slowly moves my hands off his shoulders and cups my face gently.

  “Please. Go to your room and rest. Stay here in the Plainlands until Death has made a full recovery, and then we can discuss whether or not we want to address this…ability of yours.”

  I’m getting frustrated. I know he can see it in my face, just like I can see his reluctance. “But…”

  “Sacha, I’m begging you this time. Don’t do this.”

  I wonder when Gabriel has ever begged for anything. I’m betting it hasn’t been often, if at all. Angels probably don’t need to beg. It’s a compliment, but it breaks my heart all the same.

  I’m not going to drop this and I’m not going to lie. He wants me to go to my room, well, I can do that…until I find Ryan or Deacon.

  “Okay then.” It’s all I can say to him. If I open my mouth again, I think I might start crying from frustration, and I’ve already caused him enough trouble.

  He nods and his lips let out a quiet sigh. “Thank you.”

  Gabriel takes me into his strong arms and holds me to his chest. It’s a wonderful hug, the kind that makes you feel warm all the way through, and I wish he’d hugged me before now. It feels like it’s too late and things could have been so wonderful between us. I guess we’re never going to go on that date.

  He releases me and steps away as I look into his lustrous blue eyes to find barely contained tears. I guess the red happens whenever he’s angry. Who knew that angel eyes acted like mood rings?

  I watch him fly through the door, leaving me alone by the dying tree.

  Now that he’s gone, I collapse onto my knees and let my tears fall. More daisies grow around me from the salty droplets. They’re no longer beautiful. They’re just a horrible reminder of all the things I’m going to miss should I convince Lucifer to take my soul. I’ve got to find someone who will help me.

  As it happens, Deacon finds me first. The door to the room opens and my fellow apprentice walks slowly through the knee-deep grass, his hands in his pockets. His head is down, and he looks solemn. When he gets halfway to the tree, he sees me there and quickens his pace.

  “Sacha?” He kneels beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Why are you crying? Is he that bad off?”

  “N-no,” I manage shakily, forcing myself to swallow the remainder of my sobs. “He’s healing okay. I just needed a minute to be a weak-ass bitch.”

  His eyes widen into saucers. “Did you just…swear?”

  “So what? I do it occasionally, mostly when I’m mad or upset. It helps cope with the pain a little.”

  “Like stubbing your toe,” he remarks, nodding thoughtfully. “Shouting a good ‘fuck’ definitely helps to ease that.”

  A small laugh escapes me. “Thanks, Deacon.”

  “For what?”

  I straighten onto my feet and brush the dead leaves off my clothes. “For reminding me why I need to go to Hell.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going back there. After everything you caused?”

  I hold my hand up to preempt him. “Has Death told you why he chose us? Why he really chose us?”

  “Uh…to be his apprentices.”

  “That’s not the only thing.” I summarize everything Death told me in his bedroom. Deacon doesn’t appear even half as horrified as I was. “Well? Say something.”

  After a thoughtful pause, he pretends to rub a phony moustache. “So I get to become the Grim Reaper? That’s actually pretty neat. I’ll finally be somebody important.”

  “Oh, yay. Good for you.” I roll my eyes. “But don’t you see? We lose Death, as he is right now.”

  Deacon gives me a stupid look. “Really? You think I’d care about that? I’m not the one who’s got the hots for him.”

  From frustration or anger, I slap Deacon on the arm. “Okay, that’s enough. You’re going to listen to me, Deacon Savage, and you’re going to listen well. Understand?”

  He gives a rapid nod of his head, surprised by my attack.

  Having received his full, undivided attention, I go on. “I need to get into Hell. If I can convince Lucifer to give me Death’s soul, I think…it’ll heal him faster.” The lie tumbles out before I even register it. However, it seems to convince Deacon a little, as he’s no longer frowning at me. “I’ve already been down there. I know how Lucifer works. But I need a way in. I need your help.”

  He doesn’t even consider his answer. “Fine. It just means if you fail, I’ll get to become Death. Win-win.”

  My eyes bulge in their sockets. “Wait. You actually know how to get into Hell?”

  I was just trying my luck.

  “Well…yeah. I accidentally found one when I was looking for my latest soul.”

  I don’t quite buy it. “You were looking for your latest soul by a portal that leads into Hell? Seriously? Come on, dude…”

  He shrugs a little sheepishly. “Okay, so I was exploring. The lobby isn’t the only place where there are doors. The other ones are just sort of…hard to find.”

  “You mean there are more portals? Here?”

  “And you’ve already been to one of them. Remember the cliff top where we first learned to fly?”

  The rocky shoreline, the steep cliff and murky sky. Of course I remember it.

  Deacon takes my hand, his skin surprisingly soft despite the calluses on his fingertips from his guitar strings. “While I was waiting for you to jump, I came across a portal. It was literally underneath our noses that whole time.”

  In an instant, we’re back on the edge of the cliff. The sky is even darker than it was before, and it’s raining violently, with a biting wind that drives the icy droplets into our faces.

  I let go of Deacon to pull my hair away from my face. “Where is the portal?” I shout over the wind, my body already turning numb from the cold. “I don’t see it!”

  “Down here,” Deacon calls back, gesturing over the cliff. “This ocean is the portal!”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I fell through it when I landed! You’ll just have to trust me!”

  Trust Deacon? The guy who hated me from the moment we met?

  But he also showed me hints of kindness and warmth whenever his guard was down. He proved that he wasn’t completely black-hearted deep down. He just hid behind a mask in fear of people making him feel insignificant again.

  I’ll trust him. At this point, I’ve got nothing left to lose. Death promised to take care of my family. If I never come back, Deacon is still here to allow Death to regenerate. It’s not ideal, but if the worst happens to me, things will still be okay.

  Since I won’t be able to swim in this outfit, I strip down to my underwear. My teeth chatter and I might as well have jumped into a bath full of ice. The discomfort is probably nothing compared to what waits for me down below.

  Throwing the last of my clothes on the ground, I turn to Deacon, who’s blushing slightly and trying terribly hard not to look at my breasts. He opens his mouth to speak, but I silence him with a finger pressed to his lips.

  “Thanks for helping me, Deacon.”

  And then I’m walking toward the edge of the cliff, bracing myself for the fall. It’s just like when Death was here in front of me. Step off into the unknown and let your instincts guide you.

  Spreading my arms out, I close my eyes and lean forward.

  A pair of hands seize my shoulders and spin me around. I look up at Deacon in surprise, and there’s a look of sorrow in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.

  He holds me to his pounding chest. “Please don’t go,” he asks desperately. “There has to be a better answer than this. Let’s talk to Death when he wakes up, or Gabriel…”

  My heart clenches at the fear evident in his voice. In the few days I’ve known him, he’s always been a master at concealing his true emotions. I’ve never seen him look this vulnerable before. “I already talked to Gabriel. This is the only way.”

  “
Did he say that? Did he tell you to do this?”

  “Well…no, but he didn’t have any other suggestions.”

  “Maybe we can—”

  I claim Deacon’s lips in an attempt to shut him up. At first, that’s my only motive, as the wind and rain grow stronger around us. But as Deacon’s tongue collides with my own, and his hands curl around my neck, our kiss becomes deeper, consuming my mind with thoughts of desire and hope.

  There’s a lingering passion stretching between us that wasn’t present until this exact moment. Maybe it’s born from the fear of what I’m preparing to do, or perhaps it’s because this is the first time he’s really let me in past his walls and defenses. I remember what Gabriel said about him—that under it all, he was a fine soul. I can feel that it’s true and I don’t want this moment to end.

  But it has to.

  Just like I have to jump off this cliff.

  I pull away reluctantly, and he tries not to let me go, clinging onto my body as if his own life depends on it.

  “It’s going to be all right,” I tell him as I step back. “Just hold on to that thought until I get back.”

  I might never be back, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I step off the cliff and fall into nothingness.

  The first thing I expect to feel is the vicious slap of ice-cold water surrounding my body.

  The water does hit me when I plunge into the ocean, but it isn’t cold.

  It’s warm and makes my skin tingle.

  The feeling is surprisingly pleasant, not at all what I thought a portal to Hell would be like. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been surprised since I died. It probably won’t be the last.

  I look around, trying to find where the opening to Hell might be, and I see a dark cavern in the side of the cliff. The water disappears into it, turning black as it gets closer instead of the usual white-capped blue. It looks appropriately hellish and dismal, so I swim that way.

  My wings make swimming a lot easier, which is strange, but I cover a lot of distance at a much faster rate than I would have before. I was always a strong swimmer, but now?

  Michael Phelps has nothing on this Angel of Death.

  As I get closer to the cave, the water gets warmer. It stands to reason, since shallower water is warmer than deeper water, but this isn’t just warmer. It’s actually getting hot. Even my wings protest the temperature and my muscles start to swell and ache.

  I increase my pace as much as possible and swim into the cave. The walls and ceiling are the same rocky texture as Lucifer’s domain, although the ceiling here is covered in glow worms that shimmer like the night sky. They would almost be pretty to look at, if not for my skin burning under the water.

  There are also no spots of land in here at all. Droplets splash onto my head from somewhere above, the sound creating an echo. I ignore them and keep swimming with my head above the surface.

  Eventually, the water turns from black into something that’s not water at all. It’s acid, and it pulls me down like a strong ocean current.

  I thought I knew what pain was. I was wrong.

  My entire body is on fire, my skin sizzling and cracking. There’s something down below, a bright light that opens up like a mouth. It’s the only thing I can see in here, and I swim toward it, hoping it’s a way out.

  It has to be.

  Or all this pain has been for nothing.

  I dive deeper under the water toward the light. Somehow, I can breathe, even though I’m now deep beneath the surface. I don’t understand, but I’m not going to question it now. Anything that will make this easier will be welcome.

  All my joints feel like they’re swelling into balloons. The inflammation makes every motion agony and my limbs feel like they’re shrinking, as if the muscles are getting tighter and shorter with each stroke. My skin loosens and hangs around me, the heat making it blister and peel off. Dark spots appear on my shoulders and on my arms, and I’m sure the rest of my body is withering, too.

  I’m not being cooked. I’m being aged. That’s somehow so much worse. At least if I was being boiled alive, my nerves would eventually go dead to the suffering. But age? That’s the gift that keeps on giving, and there’s no escape. Curled hands and knobby knuckles, swollen knees…I’m imprisoned in a body that’s falling apart.

  My screams are clawing at my lips, desperate to escape.

  But I can’t let them out. If I start screaming now, I’ll never stop, and I need to keep going. Even if I turn into a shriveled hag by the time I reach the portal, I can’t give in.

  So I focus. I keep my mind narrowly fixed on the light ahead of me and on the goal I’ve set for myself. I will not let this physical torture prevent me from doing the right thing. The sight of my wings, shriveled and frayed; my arms, burned and weakened; my fingers, swollen and blistered, is like something from a horror movie, but still I persist and swim as hard and far as my withering body will possibly allow.

  Images of my family play through my mind, encouraging me not to give up, to keep on going. MacKenzie’s first day of school. Mom’s ultrasound revealing I was going to have a baby sister. Happy, blissful moments we shared together, are mingled with new memories of Death and the guys, Zeus and even Hades.

  Their faces remind me why I’m doing this.

  So I can see them all again.

  I will. Not. Fail.

  The water gives way abruptly to hot, dry air, and I emerge from a boiling pot into a blast furnace. I try to stand, but I’m too weak, and my legs won’t support me. I end up crawling up onto dry land. My vision is blurred, and for a god-awful moment, I think perhaps my eyes were burned right out of their sockets. But then I see a pair of men’s highly-polished black shoes shining in front of me.

  “What have we here?” Lucifer’s voice says, sounding incredibly amused. “Did my little pet miss me?”

  I try to speak, to tell him why I’m here, but my jaw snaps and breaks off, landing in front of me. Ashes of what used to be my face fall in between us, and he runs his toe through them.

  “Hmm. That’s unfortunate. I’ll bet that hurts.” He crouches down and takes my broken jaw in his hand. “Does it hurt, Pet? Would you like for Daddy to make it all better again?”

  If I could speak, I would tell him to bend over so I could shove my broken jaw up his ass sideways.

  And yes, I’m cursing, because yes, I’m angry.

  I am having a very bad day.

  Lucifer holds up my jawbone again. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

  I glare at him as best as I can. Unfortunately, one of my eyes pops out from its socket and rolls onto his shoe. I cover my missing eye in horror, and in my utter delirium, I burst out laughing. At least, that’s what I try to do, but it just sounds like a guttural cough that hurts my body.

  “It would be a waste to keep you like this,” Lucifer says, inspecting my jawbone as if he’s looking at his nails. “Besides, not many survive the Lake of Fire. I’m impressed.”

  Hello, Impressed, I’m Sacha Grey. Can you give me my jaw back now?

  Jesus Christ, how can I joke at a time like this? I’m practically a fossil at the mercy of Satan. Now isn’t exactly a good time to be cracking jokes.

  Lucifer sets my jaw back and wiggles the bone into place. His face is inches from my own. I can feel his breath against my wrinkled cheeks, hot and minty. He smells like burning leaves and firewood. It’s devastating how alike he and Death really are, and how I never saw it until now. There’s no denying the family resemblance. It’s like looking at an older version of the man I’m here to save.

  Once my jaw cracks into place, Lucifer caresses the side of my face.

  Life floods back into my veins, pumping through my body like a surge of electricity. The pain vanishes like a distant dream and a wave of warmth rushes over me. All the ravages of age fall away, and my body feels like it’s mine again, like the body I’m used to having.

  I instinctively check my jaw, making sure it’s intact. I flex it and
everything seems to be okay. I can even see through two eyes, and my body is no longer burned or covered in liver spots.

  I’m young again and whole.

  Lucifer smiles at me. “Better?”

  “Why did you do that? Why didn’t you just let me die?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “So many questions. I almost regret giving you back your jaw.”

  “Believe me. I’m just getting started.”

  He straightens up and looks down his nose at me. I’m still on my knees at his feet and I’ve got a feeling that he likes the view.

  When I try to stand up, he reaches out and takes my chin. “You came here to offer something precious to me. What was it, Pet?”

  I’m scared to roll my eyes in fear of losing one of them again, so I settle for a glare. “You already know why I came here…Sir.”

  I spit the word out, but his amusement only increases.

  He laughs again. “Perhaps I do, perhaps I don’t. Perhaps I’d rather hear it in your own words, falling from your own pretty lips.” He leans closer, his lips right against my ear. “If you don’t make the offer, I can’t make the purchase.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell me what you want to give me, and what you want in return. That’s how deals are made.”

  Why am I hesitating?

  I came here knowing precisely what I wanted. I just can’t seem to get the words out.

  “You’re afraid.” He answers my unspoken question. “And you know that deals with the Devil never go in the seller’s favor…but here you are, anyway. Ready to sell.”

  “Not sell,” I finally manage to say. “Trade.”

  He lifts his eyebrows, smirking. “Oh? What kind of trade?”

  I lick my lips nervously. “My soul…for Death’s. I want you to give his soul back, and in return, you’ll get mine.”

  I don’t know how I expect him to react. Laughter, maybe, or animosity. I don’t expect stony silence as he stares down at me. It’s like he can read my soul, or maybe he’s weighing my true intentions.