by T. A. Brock
Cori stared hard into his eyes. What did she see there? What was he thinking right then? Was he thinking what she was thinking, that this was a one-chance thing? That next year at this time they might not have the same opportunity?
It seemed like he was holding his breath, waiting for her answer. He really wanted this, she realized. And that was all she needed to know.
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I’m warning you, I don’t dance.”
“I’m not worried,” he said, breathing easily again. “One thing—” he twirled that strand of hair around his finger “—will you wear your hair down?”
“But I wear it down almost every day.”
“Yeah, I know. I like it that way.”
“Oh. Okay.”
The bell rang then and students started rushing into the halls.
“I won’t be in class today,” Grayson mentioned as an afterthought.
“Why not?”
“I’ve got something I need to take care of. Will you meet me at the river after school?”
“Sure, I guess.”
Grayson leaned down and kissed her quickly on the cheek before heading for the exit.
As Cori went to class her thoughts returned to Aiken. Was he all right? Something about the incident was bugging her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly it was. He wasn’t there when she got to class, which wasn’t too surprising. He’d looked awful at lunch—two shades away from death…
That’s when it hit her, what was so familiar about the incident. It was eerily similar to how Grayson had looked when she’d found him in the hallway her second day of school. Grayson had been so much worse, but the symptoms were the same: sunken eyes, dried up, powder-like skin, stiffness. And Grayson had offered Aiken his water. There was only one reason for that: he knew Aiken needed it.
And how did he know?
Cori felt chills travel up her spine as she realized the answer. He knew because they shared the same strange illness.
Chapter 18
Call Me Jiminy Cricket
GRAYSON WAS ON A MISSION: find the Reaper immediately. He didn’t know how much of the puzzle Cori had pieced together. She wasn’t stupid, not at all. If Aiken’s dehydration had gone any farther, she would’ve recognized it as the same thing that had happened to him the day she helped him to the bathroom. He could only hope he’d distracted her enough to give him some time to find Aiken and make him leave town.
Not that he didn’t want to go to the dance with her—he did. Yeah, he really did…she would be so beautiful in a blue dress…But he wasn’t above shamelessly using the dance as a distraction either.
Grayson checked the bathrooms first. No sign of the Reaper. He knew Aiken wouldn’t have gone to class. He’d need some time to recuperate.
He found him in the parking lot, standing in the open door of his truck, chugging water as if there was a forecasted drought. He seemed to be recovering, though.
Miraculously, Grayson held his anger in check. It wouldn’t help for both of them to be dehydrated. “You look better,” he said and smirked. “Which really isn’t saying much.”
Aiken regarded him with wary eyes. “Go away, civie.”
“Actually, that’s what I’m here to talk to you about.” He stared hard to get his next point across. “Except you’re the one who needs to go away. Leave Asher.”
The Reaper straightened, a deadly glint in his eye, and faced Grayson full on. “Not happening.”
Unfortunately the leash on Grayson’s anger wouldn’t hold indefinitely. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is and I don’t care. All I care about is the fact that you almost lost it in there. I don’t want Cori to know what I am. And you can’t afford for anyone to know about you either.”
The Reaper smiled, but it wasn’t the playful mocking thing that it usually was. This one was the smile of someone determined to have their way. It was the sort of grin a crazy man might enlist. “I’ll leave when I go to my grave—permanently, that is—and not a second sooner.”
So he was throwing down the gauntlet, was he? But why, Grayson wondered. Inwardly, he shrugged and stepped up to the challenge. “That can be arranged.”
Aiken laughed. “You wouldn’t risk trying to kill me. I think you’re smarter than that.”
Grayson felt his skin turn to fire and his vision flip to beige. “I would risk anything, anything to keep Cori from learning about us.”
The Reaper pursed his lips. “Would you now?” he mused, a bit more relaxed. “And exactly why is that?”
For a minute Grayson thought the guy was actually wondering. But of course he already knew the answer…he was a Reaper.
“You know why,” he spat. “I would never let a zombie touch her. Ever. I will make sure she is safe from harm if it’s the last thing I do.”
Instead of clearing the question mark from Aiken’s face, Grayson’s words actually seemed to make it bigger. Aiken shook his head as if to clear it.
“Wait a minute, you want to keep her safe? You mean from other zombies, not yourself, right?”
Grayson was growing increasingly frustrated with the Reaper. Oh, he knew why Aiken was here. It was clear he’d been watching Cori from the beginning, waiting to see what Grayson would do, what he would reveal to her. But he would tell her nothing, wouldn’t give the Reaper a reason to eliminate her. “From all zombies. Including myself. Especially myself.”
Aiken’s eyes squinted as if he were trying to see through some kind of substantial fog. “From all zombies? Including yourself?” he repeated in a strange voice. “You mean…you don’t plan on…killing her?”
At the mere thought Grayson felt nuclear, like a ball of fire was seated in his insides, threatening to explode and bring all to ruin. His eyes went wide and the vein in his neck popped out as if to say, “Look, buddy, you messed with the wrong jugular.”
Kill Cori?
It hadn’t been that long since he’d stood in the hallway looking at her for the first time. Even then he’d known that killing a being like her would be a sin one could never be forgiven of. Angel or not, she was a soul—a precious human soul—just as Grayson had once been, and he would never take that away from her. His murder was something he couldn’t fix. He’d accepted that now. But he’d make sure she didn’t come to the same ruin he had. He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his death.
Kill her?
No. But he would kill. The person—or zombie—who ever dared to lay a hand on her would pay with their blood. He would see to it—
“Grayson.” A raspy, choked voice brought him back to the land of the living—or semi-living, as was the case. He was horrified to see that he’d lunged at Aiken and now had him by the throat, fingers digging deep into his windpipe. “Let. Go.”
He did, stepping back and struggling to catch his uneven breath. Aiken rubbed at the skin of his throat. “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed. Geez, civie.”
Aiken reached into his truck and pulled out a bottle of water, tossing it to Grayson. “It seems we have a lot to talk about,” he said easily. Too easily.
Grayson caught the water but he didn’t open it. He was a little confused. Why weren’t they fighting right now? Hadn’t he just tried to strangle a Reaper? A Reaper that hated him.
“What…what do you mean?” he barely got out. His chest was so tight from the emotion that had wracked him at the thought of Cori’s death.
“I mean…” Aiken climbed into his truck and slammed the door. “It’s about time you and I get some things straightened out between us. But not here. Somewhere safe.”
A chill ran across Grayson’s overheated skin. Of course the Reaper wouldn’t kill him in public. No wonder they weren’t fighting. He wanted to get him alone somewhere first. Grayson locked his jaw. Well, that was just fine. He would fight him, especially if it meant a chance at killing him. Because he wanted the guy away from his Cori. At any cost.
“Meet me at Stonehenge in half an hour.”
Grayson had barely enough time to stop by his house before meeting Aiken, and he was exceedingly glad no one was home when he got there. He had some stuff to take care of—just in case things went bad for him at the cemetery.
Not wasting any time, he ran to his room and started writing a letter. A letter to Leiv. He stuck to the important points—no need to get mushy—and when he was finished he pried the monstrous ring off his middle finger. Leiv had given it to him shortly after his rising. It was truly a hideous piece of jewelry—gunmetal gray, gnarled and twisted carvings that made no recognizable shape, just a mass of weirdness, and in the dead center sat the tiniest ruby you’d ever seen. The sad little jewel might have measured out to be an eighth of a carat. Maybe. His brother had promised him, in that casual yet mysterious way he had about him, that one day he would come to love the ring.
That day had never come.
But it was his single possession, the one thing that he could claim ownership to. And he wanted Cori to have it if anything happened to him. He paused, wishing he could give her something better. But the ring was all he had, so that’s what she would get.
Grayson sighed, still not resigned to the fact that Aiken might kill him. The letter and the ring were unnecessary. But…just in case. The ring would have to say all the things he’d never have a chance to.
He set the letter on his pillow and placed the ring on top. Then he went downstairs to collect water and weapons. He picked his favorite dagger from the case in the living room—it had an ivory handle. Grayson liked it because it fit his hand perfectly, almost as if it had been fashioned for him. Whenever he trained with Leiv and Raina, it was always the first weapon he chose. He buckled it into a holster around his forearm. Next, he fitted a thick leather collar around his neck. It had steel studs embedded in it. Its purpose was to help prevent beheading—the only real way for a zombie to die.
As he hurried out the door, he stopped to look at his reflection in the mirror. He looked deadly. If Cori saw him like this…but she wouldn’t. It was still hours before school let out.
When Grayson got to the cemetery, Aiken was already there. He was leaned casually against the door of his truck, arms crossed. The instant Grayson stepped from his car, the Reaper rolled his eyes.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. A steel? You’re wearing a steel? Oh, and a dagger too.”
He came out of his casual lounging posture. “I’m not here to fight, civie. I said we needed to talk. Talk, not fight. You do know the difference, right?”
Grayson approached him warily, not ready to believe him and not really wanting to. If they didn’t fight he’d lose his chance to kill Aiken and get him away from Cori. “I know the difference.” He regarded the Reaper. He didn’t have any weapons on him—well, unless you considered his stupid earrings to be weapons. “What do you want to talk about?”
Aiken raised an eyebrow. “For starters, we could talk about why you showed up here with weapons.”
Grayson simply shrugged.
“Okay, listen.” Aiken sighed. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t want to fight you, Grayson. I don’t want to kill you either, so you can take off the steel.”
“I think I’ll keep it on for a while.”
The Reaper shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“What do you want, then?” Grayson asked.
Aiken came to stand in front of him. He seemed almost apprehensive. “I need to be sure first.”
“Sure about what?”
“Cori is truly your Save, right?”
“Yes. So what?”
“You were told by an Oracle? Face to face?” he prodded.
Grayson frowned at the question. “Yes, of course.”
“How will I know it’s her?” he’d stupidly asked Hannah.
“The same way everyone knows: you will know her by the pull, it will draw the two of you together.” She stopped, closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. They were completely gray, with a hint of…excitement? “There is something about her eyes that will appeal to you.”
So, yes. As Grayson nodded at the Reaper, he was absolutely sure Cori was his.
Aiken looked at him strangely, like he was from another dimension or something. “Lemme get this straight: she is your true Save and…you have no desire to…use her?”
Grayson glared at the guy. Hadn’t they already covered this?
Aiken held up both hands in an appeasing gesture. “I find that a teeny bit hard to believe, especially seeing how close the two of you have become. I’m just trying to understand you.”
Bile rose in Grayson’s throat with every word out of the Reaper’s mouth. The trees that surrounded them turned a morose antique as he tried to harness his temper.
“I could never hurt Cori. I love her,” he growled.
As soon as he said it, he knew he meant it and had to look away. He couldn’t believe he’d said it in front of the Reaper, couldn’t believe he’d said it out loud. Grayson swore right then and there, he would never repeat it. Doing so would bring a whole new set of complications to his and Cori’s already too complicated relationship. And besides, he didn’t want her to know.
Steeling himself, he looked at Aiken. He was surprised to see the hardness gone from the Reaper’s face. In fact, he almost seemed shaken.
“Okay, then,” he said, his voice wavering. “I guess that settles it.”
“Settles what?” Grayson still didn’t know why they were talking.
Aiken ignored him and went over to his truck, resting his elbows on the side of the bed. He stared into the emptiness while Grayson paced behind him.
“Do you know what a Reaper does?” he finally asked.
Grayson knew. “Yeah, I know. You kill the zombies who’ve reached the Age of Death.”
Aiken glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “There’s a bit more to it than that.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. You do whatever it takes to prevent humans from finding out about us,” he said with venom. “Including, but not limited to, killing innocent humans.” This was why Grayson hated Reapers.
“No,” Aiken countered, his voice harsh. “We do whatever it takes to protect humans. That is what we do, even at the expense of our own kind. Otherwise we’d just let the contagious ones run rampant.”
Grayson scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew what happened to a human who got too close to a zombie. It had happened to him…when he’d become friends with Raina. For all he knew a Reaper had done the deed, made him into a monster just to keep him quiet. “So you protect them by killing them? I’m willing to bet they would take their chances—”
“We don’t kill them,” Aiken barked. “Not under any circumstances, ever.”
He could call it what he wanted, but in Grayson’s eyes taking a human’s life and giving them a zombie one in exchange was no even trade. It was murder.
“Turning humans into zombies is the same as killing them,” he said simply.
“Is it?” the Reaper countered. “Aren’t you still alive? Though in a…different way?”
Grayson scoffed, disgusted. “Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Aiken’s face turned curiously sad. “You’ve got it all wrong. We don’t turn humans into zombies. At least not the way you’re thinking. Not against their will.”
What? He was lying. Who would choose this? Grayson sure as hell hadn’t and someone turned him.
“You’re wrong. I didn’t go willingly.”
“You sure about that? Do you remember?”
Grayson fell silent. There were bits from before but nothing that amounted to a full memory.
“That’s what I thought. Look, what I’m saying is Reapers don’t hurt humans. We cherish them. We used to be them, Grayson, each and every one of us. Before we mutated, we were human. Even the Oracles, though they’ve mostly forgotten that fact. Too long since they’ve felt human.” He shook his head and stared at the ground as he continued. “We choose this, to be g
uardians. We take an oath ‘…to protect those from which we were born…’”
The resolute tone to his voice sent a chill up Grayson’s spine.
“Zombies are powerful creatures, more powerful than humans in most ways. We have a duty to see that they’re never harmed by our kind, to keep the fragile balance between the two species.” He let out a long sigh. “So, yes, okay. We kill zombies who are a potential danger to the human population. And, although you seem to despise that fact, most are grateful for our services. Let me ask you, when you reach the Age of Deterioration, don’t you want someone to stop you from infecting humans? Or are you the type who wishes to pass this curse on to someone else?”
Grayson was a ball of shock—on the inside. On the outside, however he was like a stone.
Could the Reaper be telling the truth? And if he was then how could Grayson explain his own existence? He’d been led to believe that this was simply what happened to humans who got too close to zombies. The secret must be kept…The phrase had been uttered repeatedly for the first five years of his undead life.
But the conviction in Aiken’s voice was clear. When he spoke of loving humans, well, that was sort of how Grayson felt. Except maybe it wasn’t love, really. It just seemed to him that they were special, not to be messed with. They should never be forced into a life of death, as convoluted as that sounded.
Aiken called their zombie nature a curse. Grayson thought he was the only one in the world who viewed it that way, the only zombie unhappy with his life. The Oracle had implied as much. Could this Reaper possibly have the same feelings?
If so, that meant he wasn’t a danger to Cori. In fact, it meant he could help.
“I would want you to kill me,” Grayson finally answered. “Without a doubt.”
Unbelievably, the Reaper smiled, though it didn’t completely reach his eyes. “I thought you’d say that. Too bad I won’t get to.” He smirked. “I’ll be long gone by then.”