by Allison West
"I'm dead?" she croaked, seeing herself lying face down on the ground. She looked pretty damned dead, but the fact she was staring at herself, her mind couldn't let go. There was much she'd done wrong, lying to her father, sneaking out to keep from being protected, leaving her sister to become the next queen; Ophelia wanted a second chance. Was it too late?
The gentleman she'd met in the bar earlier gave a sad nod. "Technically, your body is deceased. Your soul is another factor."
"My what?" Ophelia's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Your soul. You know the body and the soul. The thing that makes you human."
"I don't believe in God." She'd given up believing when her mother was murdered and she had been forced to protect Mara, alone. A guard had betrayed the kingdom for a small bag of gold he never would see.
"Quite frankly, I don't care what you believe in. It's not for me to say what's true and untrue, real or unreal. My assignment was to reap your soul. Welcome to the world of the undead."
Ophelia backed away from the stranger. He had to be mad. Though the moment her eyes cast down again on her lifeless body, she wondered who was crazier, finding it difficult to breathe. "This can't be real." It didn't make sense. One minute, she was alive, going to the latrine, fighting for her life, and the next, she was… dead?
As the handsome, dark-haired gentleman breathed, she could see each puff of air leave his lungs, reminding her it was frigid outside.
"You said undead?" Her voice hitched with fear. She hated horror stories. If Ophelia was curled up with a book, it would be a romance, always, with a happily ever after.
"Sorry to tell you, princess, but I'm a grim reaper." He held out his hand to properly introduce himself. "My name is Wynter Gael."
For the first time, she realized she didn't feel cold and wasn't shivering. Is this what being dead was like? "A grim reaper? You're joking." Ophelia was not laughing.
"Do I look like I'm laughing? You have been chosen to join the Academy of Reapers, to reap souls until the contract expires. On estimate, you'll have another two or three hundred years to experience the world."
"Two or three hundred years?" The thought of living another lifetime or two thrilled her. There was a lot she hadn't seen or done; it was a second chance. Besides, if it meant spending time with Wynter, he wasn't so bad on the eyes.
"It's a rough estimate. There's a set number of lives you're given as a reaper, and well, after that, you move on. Unless, of course, you break the rules, which I don't recommend. The royal council, the academy's highest office, doesn't look too highly upon those of us who are rule breakers."
Was he making a joke out of this whole scenario? Ophelia had just died, and Wynter was laughing at her expense. This was not funny to her. His demeanor was far too relaxed for her liking. She had just been murdered, and he was acting far too casual about it.
"What happens if I attend this academy and I become a grim reaper? Will I not have a heartbeat or feel the cold and snowflakes anymore?" It didn't sound that great.
Wynter smiled. "Who said anything about not feeling the cold? Trust me, princess, it's freezing outside." He tugged on the edge of his scarf. "You think I wear this just for show?"
"I don't know." She couldn't believe this was really happening. It felt like a horrible nightmare that she couldn't wake up from.
"There are a few rules that you must abide by, and the first is no communication with your family. The past is the past. You can't go back to visit them. Bad things happen when you do. You hear me? Really bad things." He emphasized the last point.
Ophelia heard him, but she didn't believe the words. She could still be there for Mara. Life didn't have to be over. She could find out who killed her, and why. She needed closure, and this was the only way to get it. "I'll do it. I'll attend your stupid school and reap the dead or whatever you need from me." It wasn't like she was given much of a choice. How bad could it be? She never did terrible with her studies. Besides, this gave her a second chance at life.
"Don't sound so enthusiastic about it. Anyway, it's not that simple." Wynter led her away from the tavern. "You have to sign the contract, and that's back at the asylum."
"The what?" Her heart would have skipped a beat, had she still been alive.
"Don't stress. It's really not a big deal." Wynter untied the white horse and climbed on.
Larkin stepped outside of the tavern, and Ophelia ran toward him. "Larkin!" she screamed, shuddering as he ran right through her body. She appeared to be nothing more than a ghost.
"Have you seen Leila?" Larkin asked Wynter as he walked toward the side of the building.
"Can't say I have. Have a good night."
Once Larkin was out of sight, Wynter reached down and grabbed Leila's arm. He pulled her onto the back of the horse with him as he took off from the scene of the crime.
"You have to take me back!" Ophelia slammed her fists into his back. He seemed to be the only one capable of seeing and feeling her existence. How was that even possible?
"That's why there's no communication with your previous life," he said into the wind. He held the reins of the horse as they moved swiftly through the forest. "Besides, he couldn't see you or hear you, Ophelia." It was the first time he'd called her by name. "How do you think you'll be able to communicate with him?"
"You could tell him for me." She doubted he would, but he was her last chance.
"Right. That will go over so well. Me speaking for a dead girl. I don't think so."
Chapter 4
Wynter rode through the night. The air was chilled and unpleasant, but he knew as a lost soul, Ophelia could not feel the cold. He barely remembered his time between both existences, the interaction only between grim reapers. Wynter had seen the look she sported, the fear and helplessness when Larkin had been in search for her. The grim reaper couldn't have stuck around any longer. It would have put himself in danger. He hadn't been the one to murder the princess, but he was the last to see her, to carry her soul with him to Vera. Surely, someone would have noticed that he had been hanging around the latrine where her body had turned up.
She clung tightly against him, and he smiled, enjoying the feel of her embrace, even if it wasn't warm. The feeling itself for him was strange, to feel a soul that no human could see or feel. The interaction was rare. Usually, he helped the soul cross over, but Ophelia was a rarity, being given the gift of joining the academy. It was a rare honor. She had no idea how lucky she truly was.
Surprised that she'd taken the news considerably well, he, personally, had fought against it, not wanting to live another day, let alone two hundred years in this world, when he had lost his mortal existence. Wynter had struggled and had a difficult journey in his early life.
Wynter wanted to talk with her, to hear about how she was handling the news of her murder and whether she was ready to accept the role of a grim reaper. She was silent against him, and he could feel her slouching slightly, having fallen asleep.
"You're going to fall off. Switch with me. Ride up front," Wynter said, insisting she move positions as he woke her up. He didn't know whether any harm could come to her in falling, but he also didn't want to take that risk. She'd been through enough as it was over the last few hours.
She grumbled under her breath, as the horse came to a halt while he helped maneuver her to the front of the animal. Wynter wrapped his arms around her, keeping her steady as she quickly fell back to sleep in his embrace.
He clung against her, keeping her tight in his arms as he neared closer to the asylum. Jasper already knew they were coming, having seen the purple shimmer on his scroll and identifying what it meant. Wynter had never helped a human transition before. Would she fight him on it as he had fought his predecessor who had now passed on?
"Tired," Ophelia mumbled, her head bent down, her body relaxed as she fought for sleep.
"I don't know how you can sleep on a horse," he whispered against her ear. His body clung to hers, refusing to let go. "It must b
e that as a lost soul, you're more fatigued than usual." At least he hoped that was the case. If this was her usual mood, she'd be in for a rude awakening when it came time to reap souls in the middle of the night. Death didn't care about the hour or a grim reaper's sleep schedule.
Chapter 5
Dawn broke over the horizon. "We're here." Wynter climbed off the horse.
"What time is it?" Ophelia didn't feel tired. She didn't feel much of anything physically. Emotionally, though, her fears and feelings were intact. She was beyond nervous as she looked at what Wynter had referred to as the asylum. It was every bit as creepy as it sounded. Covered in three stories of beige and red bricks, it could be classified as a haunted house with ivy creeping up the walls.
"It's just after nine."
"Where is here, exactly?" It looked like a way station to Hell.
"The asylum. Nestled in the southwest of Vera. We offer free room and board to the undead. Plus, there's a nice cozy office on the top floor that belongs to the royal council. That's where we're heading."
Ophelia knew of Vera. It was a large peaceful country just south of her homeland. They were mostly known for farming, a quiet culture without a king. She wasn't privy to their innermost politics, but she knew an alliance between Vera and Casmerelda had been born nearly one hundred years ago.
"You expect me to stay here?" Could this day get any worse? Just yesterday, she was at home in the warmth of the castle, studying with a tutor. Now, she was dead!
"No. You'll bunk up with our female reapers Violetta and Emblyn, in a dormitory not too far from here."
"Good." She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Ophelia hesitated. She didn't even want to step foot inside the asylum.
"We don't have all day. They're waiting for us." He unlocked the door and stepped in through the heavy wooden doors, waiting for Ophelia to follow him.
"This is a new kind of Hell. One for the living," she said under her breath. Her eyes moved over the locked rooms and she followed closely behind Wynter. "Is this really where crazy people go?" She'd heard of an asylum but had never seen one, let alone stepped foot inside one.
"I wouldn't use that word around here." He kept his voice barely above a whisper. "Just stick with me, and you'll be fine." Wynter unlocked the back stairwell and led her up to the third floor. "This way." He gestured toward the end of the hallway, insisting she follow. He pulled out another key, unlocking the door to a small room. Papers were askew on a desk in the corner. A bookshelf perched against a wall, filled with hand-written texts. Ophelia wanted to reach out and touch the books. Immediately, she felt right at home with her love for reading, desiring to pull a novel from the shelf and disappear into another world. Ophelia stepped inside. It looked far less frightening than the outside of the building, or even the first floor.
Two girls waited on the sofa, talking quietly to one another. The closest one looked frightening, dressed all in black with black eyeliner and matching lipstick.
"Violetta Mercier, I'd like you to meet Ophelia Dacre."
"Wow." Violetta held out her hand. Ophelia hesitated before taking it. Apparently, she could interact with all grim reapers, just not the living. "So, it's true. The princess really is dead. Such a shame." Violetta glanced back at the blonde girl. "Told you there wasn't another Ophelia Dacre." She met Ophelia's eyes again. "I was looking forward to you reigning over the kingdom. I guess this means your sister Mara will have some actual responsibility when she gets older."
"Don't you dare talk about my sister!" Ophelia snapped.
"Or what?" Violetta grinned. "You can't do anything to me. I'm already dead, in case you've forgotten. So are you."
Ophelia turned toward Wynter, hoping he'd put an end to this discussion. He got the hint. "Violetta, is this some part of initiation?" He gestured toward her dark eye makeup. "Try not to scare the poor girl on her first day."
"Would I ever do that?" Violetta placed a hand over her heart. Did she have a pulse? Ophelia would find out soon enough. In her current form, she didn't breathe, and she couldn't eat. The only folks she could interact with were other reapers.
Wynter ignored the question. "Emblyn Vernon, come over here," he said and sighed. "Looks like Jasper is late, again."
Emblyn rolled her eyes and held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you." She shot a look at Wynter. "Now can we get out of here, please? This place always gives me the creeps."
"Me too," Violetta said.
"I'm coming with you." Ophelia inched closer toward the two grim reapers. She had no intention of spending an additional minute in the asylum.
The door squeaked, and another gentleman perhaps a year or two older than Ophelia entered the small room. "Sorry I'm late." He was a few inches taller than the rest of the grim reapers with a thick head of brunette hair.
Wynter cleared his throat. "Ophelia, I'd like you to meet Jasper Elers. The last of our reaper class."
"Reaper class?" She was trying to keep track of everything, but there was a lot to learn. Did they have books and attend school lessons? She had been provided a tutor most of her childhood. Being the princess had some advantages, but making friends and being around others was not one of them. "Do we attend school here at the asylum?"
"Most of your studies will be hands on, in the field, reaping souls. You will have help in the beginning from one of your more experienced classmates," Wynter said. "There are books if you require more detailed information available at the asylum, and there are a few texts back at the dormitory."
Jasper walked over to Violetta and handed her a single black rose. "For you."
Violetta took the flower and rolled her eyes. "Your charm doesn't work on me." A hint of a smile played on the girl's lips, forcing her cheeks to blush. Her body betrayed her.
Emblyn stood up and walked over, wrapping an arm around Ophelia's shoulder. "We can leave as soon as you sign the contract to attend the academy and become a full-bodied reaper."
"A what?" Ophelia asked. She'd heard that she'd be a grim reaper, but Emblyn's words further confused her.
Jasper walked over to Ophelia. "You didn't think you'd still be Princess Ophelia, did you? Every neighboring kingdom knows who you are. The minute they see you're alive, it would change everything. The royal council is in charge of ensuring that reapers are given a new body. I don't know the specifics on how it happens, whether we take the form of a deceased individual in another country or perhaps someone who has been dead for a hundred years."
"I'm confused." Ophelia hoped someone would elaborate and make further sense.
"Your soul stays intact, but the body you'll be in will be different." Wynter reached for Ophelia's hand, resting it over his chest. "Do you feel that?" He had kind eyes and a warm smile. Watching him interact with the other reapers, she could see he fit in among his kind. Her first instinct had been to fear him, but watching him, being around him, made her realize she was wrong. Being around Wynter made her feel most comfortable.
Ophelia nodded. He had a steady heartbeat. "But you're dead?"
"We're undead, technically, but the human body can't sustain a soul without a working heart, lungs, you get the idea. We're not zombies. We're real people. We just have the ability to reap a person's soul when they die. Our job is to sever the bond between soul and body."
"Consider it a service that we perform for the living," Jasper said. "In return, we get our own little rush of adrenaline that is quite… enjoyable."
"Reaping souls is enjoyable?" Ophelia felt skeptical of what he was telling her. Was he trying to make her desire the job of being a reaper? Couldn't they offer it to another dying girl?
Violetta grinned. "Don't knock it until you try it. Some reaps are truly orgasmic."
Ophelia swallowed the lump in her throat and shifted on her feet, embarrassed. Her cheeks burned. She may have loved Larkin, but her intimate experiences with him in that way had been limited.
"Reapers are part of the undead world. We're not like the stories you've heard across
cultures," Wynter said.
Violetta smiled. "We don't ride on a chariot, transporting souls to the underworld, or wear a black cloak, unless you want to make one."
"Forget everything you know about grim reapers, Ophelia. Humans have it wrong. It's easier to believe in angels and demons, than to see what's right in front of you. Who wants to believe the undead walk among us with beating hearts? It would frighten humans. It would probably send many to their graves faster," Wynter said.
Ophelia was trying to keep track of everything. No visiting her family. She had to learn a new job—reaping.
"There's more. This is just a taste of the beginning. If you're going to agree to the full terms of the contract, you'll have to sign. We only accept souls over eighteen, and they must consent to their enrollment at the academy." Wynter pulled out a blank scroll. After a moment, words appeared on the page like magic.
Never in her life had she seen anything so mystical. She stared dumbfounded at the scroll. "And if I don't sign?" she asked.
"There are consequences for all actions. You will move on, and another soul will be forced to become a reaper. Quite often, it is someone else you may know."
Ophelia took a sharp intake of breath. Mara. If there were even the slightest chance that she would be pulled from her perfect life and forced to attend the academy to become a grim reaper, she would not allow it to happen. "I'll sign." The mere thought of anything happening to her younger sister was enough to force her hand.
He handed Ophelia a pen. "You must sign in blood to receive your new identity."
"I won't be Princess Ophelia Dacre anymore?"
"You can be Leila," Wynter said. "I know that was the name you used with Larkin. But not Dacre. You will need a new surname. Leila Bele."
Ophelia took the quill and pierced the tip of her finger, drawing blood to sign the scroll. She watched the signature sparkle and sizzle before the writing vanished from the page.