by Allison West
Leila approached the edge of the forest of Casmerelda. She tied the reins around a tree and walked the last few hundred yards into town. Mourners stood along the street, paying their respects to the recently deceased Princess Ophelia Dacre. Four men carried her closed coffin through town before her body was laid to rest. Leila watched in horror at the life she'd lost because of a stupid mistake. Although she'd never consider Larkin a mistake, sneaking out and pretending to be someone she wasn't would be a regret she'd always have to face. Larkin would have only learned the truth of who she was after her death. She felt terrible. She should have been the one to tell him.
"It's such a tragedy," a heavyset woman said. "She had her whole life ahead of her."
"Did you hear why she was out so late on her own without any guards?" a gentleman asked.
The heavyset woman said, "I heard she was sneaking off with a boy. The king has him locked up and will probably sentence him to death. Don't know if the boy loved her, killed her, or both."
Leila gasped. She backed up out of the crowd and took off for the castle. She knew every hidden entrance. In the basement were cells where prisoners were kept. If Larkin had been arrested, he would definitely be there. It wouldn't be easy to gain access, but her father and sister were at the funeral. Hopefully, no one would see her.
Water surrounded the front entrance to the castle. Since she couldn't swim, and the water was freezing, it was better to sneak around back. Jogging around the castle cost her an additional twenty minutes. She climbed the tree to her bedroom and unlatched the window. Home sweet home.
She breathed in the scent of berries and bread. An odd combination. Her stomach growled once again. Perhaps what she smelled was coming from the kitchen downstairs? She didn't have time to check. She snuck through the castle, tiptoeing down stone stairs until she reached the bottom floor. A guard stood by the keys. There was no way Leila was going to be able to talk her way into the prison. He wouldn't recognize her. She stood at the corner of the stairs, her eyes squinting as they adjusted to the darkness.
"Come on, can't I get a glass of water?" Larkin asked.
The guard cleared his throat. "Fine. One glass." He stomped toward the stairs, and Leila shuffled back into the shadows. The guard walked by, not even slowing down. Leila didn't waste a beat. She rushed toward the cellar, finding the keys.
"We have to get you out of here," Leila insisted.
Larkin's eyes narrowed as he studied the petite red-haired girl. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm a friend of Ophelia's." It was all she could say without sounding insane. "You're in danger." She knew her father well enough to know that if she was dead, someone would pay the price for her life.
"I can't leave," Larkin said. "Trust me, I want to, but King Philip isn't going to stop looking for me. I'm a wanted man. There's nowhere for me to hide."
"I can take you someplace safe, far from Casmerelda." Was she stupid for suggesting it? Emblyn had a friend over, couldn't she do the same?
Larkin turned his back and walked toward the wall. He took a seat on the cold floor facing the iron bars. The cell had some hay on the ground, nothing else to sleep on. It looked awful. "It doesn't matter." His voice was sullen, heartbroken. "She's gone. I have nothing left here anyhow."
"You can't say that. She wouldn't want you to live like this or die here." She couldn't tell him who she was, but she could make him remember how he felt.
"No." Larkin leaned his head back against the cold bricks. His legs stretched out in the cell, nearly reaching the bars. "She lied to me. She didn't love me or care about me. She used me. If you knew her, you know that. Ophelia was selfish."
Footsteps clattered along stone. The guard was returning. "You should go."
"I'll try and come back for you." She rushed toward the stairs and hid against the wall in the privacy of darkness, waiting for the right moment to flee.
"Don't," Larkin warned.
"Don't what?" the guard asked.
"Just talking to myself." Larkin had saved her, and though he had not known it was Ophelia, he had kept her secret.
Chapter 9
"I thought you didn't know how to ride a horse?" Violetta accused Leila when she returned.
"Let's all wait and hear what Leila has to say first," Wynter interjected. He'd come by to pay Leila a visit, surprised to find her gone and Violetta panicking about her horse having gone missing. He didn't bother to point out that she couldn't have gone far or, at worst, perhaps she had her first reap. Leila would need a horse eventually.
Emblyn quietly watched from the front of the cottage, observing everything.
Leila tied the horse up around back. She walked toward the berry bushes, picking breakfast. "I'm a quick study."
"You're a liar. And I wouldn't eat those. They're poisonous," Violetta snapped.
Emblyn walked onto the lawn, interrupting them. "No, they're not. We cut down the poisonous berries decades ago."
"You ruin everything," Violetta snarled at Emblyn.
"The poor girl is hungry. Besides, maybe she has a valid reason for borrowing the horse this morning? Did you get your first reap?"
Wynter had the same thoughts. He glanced at Emblyn, smiling, grateful that she hadn't jumped down Leila's throat, either.
Leila rolled her eyes. "I had some errands to run."
Emblyn frowned. "That's vague. Leila, where were you?"
Leila pursed her lips together but didn't answer.
"Leila," Wynter's tone was thick and forceful as he took a step forward. He wasn't above disciplining her for stealing Violetta's horse, unless she had a good reason for leaving without telling anyone.
"I went to see Larkin." Leila sighed and popped a berry into her mouth.
Wynter watched her relax with each bite. It had probably been the first food she'd eaten as a reaper. Her tastes wouldn't have changed. He had expected there to be no flavor, to experience dullness and disappointment with his first bite, all those years ago.
"Larkin?" Violetta asked.
"The gentleman I snuck out to visit late at night."
"Her boyfriend," Wynter said. He'd met him briefly, a passing glance, not much more on the night she died.
"Oh." Emblyn smiled. "He must be incredibly special to risk the king's wrath."
"He's also in trouble," Leila said. "Turns out my father arrested him. I tried to convince him to come with me, but that didn't go over too well."
"Did you tell him you were a grim reaper?" Violetta asked. "Please tell me you didn't."
Leila's eyes widened. "Of course not! I lied and told him I was a friend of Ophelia's. I'm not an idiot. He'd think I was crazy."
"That's debatable," Violetta said.
"Both of you! A lie is what got you into this mess in the first place." Emblyn shook her head. "From now on, you follow all the rules. We'll just hope that the royal council hasn't gotten wind of what you did today."
"We can't leave him there, Emblyn," Leila pleaded. "He needs our help."
Violetta raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think you've helped enough?" She moved closer to Leila. "Now let me see your scroll. I'm not going to be responsible for two messes today."
"About that." Leila removed the scroll from beneath her stocking. It had left a slight red burn against her skin. She grimaced as she pulled the scroll open, seeing the full assignment she missed.
"You skipped a reap?" Violetta was livid. "You can't skip a lesson, Leila! Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Emblyn walked toward Violetta, glancing over her shoulder at the scroll. "This isn't good."
"What's the worst that could happen?"
"You don't get it. You don't get to decide who lives and who dies," Wynter said. "As reapers, our only job is to help the soul leave the body and move on. Do you have any idea of the mess you made?" He knew because he'd been there before. He'd caused more than one mess on occasion. He read the name on the scroll, Isabella. It had been too late for him when he'd messed up but maybe
it wasn't too late for Leila and Isabella.
"No. I thought my punishment was the scroll burning my thigh. Maybe, at worst, I'd flunk my first lesson."
Emblyn pinched the bridge of her nose. "We have to take this to the royal council."
Violetta's eyes widened. "The royal council isn't that generous with first time offenses. We take care of it ourselves. No one else has to know. We help each other out."
"Who is the royal council?" Leila asked. No one answered her question. "How are we supposed to find Isabella?"
"No one said it would be easy. Climb on; I'll ride with you to your reap. Hopefully she's still there. Hold on."
Leila gripped Wynter as he moved swiftly with the horse away from the cottage. Her hold on him tightened as her lips brushed against his neck. He tried to ignore the warmth and comfort he felt from her touch as it spread through his body. She was strictly off limits. "Head toward the coast. I can feel it, the direction to go."
Wynter smiled, pleased that she could feel the distinctive pull, calling to her like a beacon of light warning ships of the shoreline. She was coming into her reaper abilities.
Chapter 10
Upon their approach, Wynter tied the reins of the horse around a nearby tree while Leila wandered through the open market. There were trinkets of jade, woolen wall hangings, pottery, and silk. She slowed at each stall, glancing in at the seller, making sure it wasn't a woman. A child's laugh caught her attention, and Leila spun around on her feet, nearly barreling the young girl over. "Isabella?" Leila asked, praying to any deity out there that this young blonde angel was not the girl who was destined for death.
The barefoot blonde girl smiled. She carried a handful of white flowers. "Yes," she said. Her brown eyes twinkled in the sunlight.
She could not be expected to reap this girl, all of four years old with a wide-toothy grin and rosy cheeks. Where the hell was Wynter? There had to be another way out of this mess.
"You look very pretty today." Leila smiled, not wanting to worry the child.
Isabella skipped off toward the grass, falling in a heap, laughing excitedly. She had missed her appointment, or rather Leila had missed it and the girl was still very much alive.
"Why her?" Leila asked as Wynter came up behind her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, his warm puff of air that made her feel even further conflicted. Her stomach somersaulted as she watched Isabella in the distance. "It's not fair. She's just a child." She didn't expect an answer that would satisfy her. It wasn't even like she could trade her life for this child's. She was already dead.
"You can't ignore your assignment."
"I can't take her life, Wynter. She's just a child." How could he expect her to fulfill her duties as a grim reaper when what was asked of her was painful and difficult?
He rested his hands on her shoulders, the firm grip both comforting and terrifying as she could not pull Isabella from her thoughts.
"Yes, but she was marked for death yesterday and you've already given her more time than she was destined to have."
"How can you say that?" She had been told that she only was to sever the soul from the body but this child was still very much alive.
His warm breath tickled her neck as he leaned further in, his hands moving from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her tight against him, embracing her from behind as his lips gently kissed the creamy skin of her neck. She wanted to pull away; in a distant fog, she remembered Larkin, her lover, but he was not with her and never could be again. Her body craved contact and warmth. More importantly, Wynter understood her, knew the life she was now living, unlike the rest of the humans. Together, they were not immortal but it felt as though she were, with two hundred years locked up as a grim reaper.
"I'm always here for you, Leila."
Isabella was sitting on the grass, smiling up as the sun basked her in a warm, beautiful glow. The flowers sat nestled on her legs. Everything inside of Leila hurt. "I'm not doing it. She's a child." Leila's stomach bubbled with uncertainty. It pained her to think she would be causing this young girl's death, and though she understood rationally that it was not she who brought death but severed the bounds of one's soul, it did not make it any less difficult.
"You have to." His breath tickled her neck as he placed a soft kiss over the skin. Was he trying to ease her fears? "It gets easier," Wynter whispered.
"I can't." Leila's voice trembled. "She should have her whole life ahead of her. I'm not taking that away."
Wynter sighed. "It was never your job to take it away. It's going to happen, with or without you. There are always consequences for when we disobey, Leila. I can't even fathom what they will be, but you have to save her from that worse fate. Trust me."
"What if I protect her? What if I make sure whatever is supposed to kill her, doesn't?"
"You're not a dark angel," Wynter said. "Death doesn't work like that for us. You're a grim reaper. You chose to join the academy. You signed the scroll. This is your responsibility, Leila."
She didn't fully comprehend what he was talking about. Dark angels? She'd missed the lesson on those creatures, not that it mattered. Wynter was right; she was a grim reaper. "I-I don't want to be a reaper anymore." She wasn't sure she had ever truly wanted to be one. Maybe for an instant after she died, when she thought she could find closure. This was awful. She couldn't take the soul of a child. "It's not fair."
"Life isn't fair. Isabella will never see another sunrise, she'll never experience another birthday, she won't experience a first kiss, she will never get married. She'll forever be four. It's tragic." Wynter wasn't minimizing the situation; he was being brutally honest. "I don't like it, either, Leila, but it's part of life, dying."
Leila felt tears prick her eyes, and she bit down on the tip of her tongue, hoping to stop the impending flood.
Wynter gripped her tighter in his arms as she spun around to bury her sobs in his chest.
"You can do this, Leila." He gently ran his hand over her back. "You have the strength and courage buried within you. No more stalling."
Leila pulled back, wiping away the tears as she turned to face Isabella.
The little girl stood and skipped through the grass. The nearby church bells chimed. It had been twenty-four hours since she had missed her reap. She was spinning in circles and laughing, falling to the ground. She stood up and did it all over again. Isabella gathered her flowers and skipped through the market. Giggling, she stopped at each booth, handing out a tiny bouquet and giving hugs and kisses to the patrons.
Isabella dropped the last flower, stumbling toward her father. Her skin was pale, her cheeks flushed. "I don't feel so good."
"It's happening. You need to reap her soul before she suffers any further."
Isabella's father quickly spoke to a vendor beside his booth. Then, he lifted his daughter into his arms and carried her home.
"We have to follow them," Wynter said.
Leila walked with him several paces behind Isabella and her father. "What am I supposed to do?"
"You have to take her soul." His voice was firm as he appeared to lose empathy, watching the scene before them unfold. She'd waited too long and this was the cost.
Isabella's father carried the young girl into a small cottage. He kicked the door behind him closed. "Now what?" Leila asked.
"Give it time." Wynter waited. "We can't barge in without further repercussions."
Leila stood with him a few feet outside the home. When nothing happened after several long minutes, she sat against the bark of a tree, making herself comfortable. "What's going to happen?"
Wynter stood watch, waiting for it. He counted down in his head, and finally the front door opened. The father returned to the market, while presumably Isabella's mother cared for her. "Five minutes, then I'll go to the door. You'll sneak in around back."
"You want me to break in? I'll scare the girl to death!" Leila was against the idea entirely. Although anything involving taking the child's soul seemed r
epulsive. "Why can't you go in and reap her soul?"
"Sorry, Leila. The scroll chose you, which means the royal council chose you. For whatever reason, she's your reap. If you don't reap her soul, it will rot inside her body. Do you have any idea what that's like? She'll be a living corpse, a shell of a person. She won't feel anything, including love. We, as reapers, the undead, feel more than she ever will alive."
Leila swallowed the lump in her throat. "How do you know that?"
"Because I've seen what it does to a person," Wynter said. "Only those who die from an external influence have a guaranteed time of death. She missed her appointment, because you weren't there in time. These kinds of mistakes can cause a ripple effect. That little girl deserves better. So does her family."
Leila silently nodded. Wynter walked up to the front door and gave a swift knock while Leila snuck into Isabella's room through the window.
"Hi," Leila said. The little girl stared back at her with wide eyes. The smile from Isabella's face was gone. A sheen of sweat coated the little girl's forehead. "How do you feel?" Leila asked.
Isabella hugged a cloth doll tight to her chest. "Sick."
"Close your eyes," Leila insisted. "I can make it all better."
Isabella watched Leila for a moment before the little girl shut her eyes. Leila reached down and pressed her lips softly to the child's cheek. The rush of warmth spread through Leila's body, like a drug that calmed her nerves and brought peace to both of them.
Isabella's body grew limp, unresponsive, as she died in her sleep. Leila watched as the soul of Isabella stood beside her. She reached for Isabella's hand. Leila climbed through the window, taking Isabella's soul with her.
"I don't understand," Isabella said.
"Me either." How could Isabella understand, when Leila didn't fully know what was going on around her? "Do you feel better?" Leila asked, hoping that Isabella no longer felt sick.
Isabella nodded. Leila walked with the ghost of a girl beside her, a shadow of this life, her soul, before traveling into the next. "Can I go?" Isabella asked. "I always wanted to go to the circus!"