by Alicia Rades
Give up your blood to a reaper’s grave. Shed doubt, fear not, stand firm and brave. Face the thoughts that you’ve neglected. Accept and let go of all you’ve collected.
The interpretation was clear. I had to revisit all the thoughts that’d been given to me as the Reaper’s Apprentice before handing them over.
This was going to be a long fucking night.
“Well,” I sighed to myself. “It’s now or never.”
I summoned a knife and pressed the blade to my opposite palm. I winced as the knife sliced into my skin, but after the initial shock, I didn’t mind. The stinging pain was sort of welcome.
Blood dripped out of my palm and stained the snow below me. I reached out and smeared the blood across the base of the reaper’s statue, straight across his name. Then I shoved my hand into the snow to numb the sting. It eased it, until my hand became so numb I couldn’t feel anything at all.
With my good hand, I summoned the leather-bound spell book where I recorded all the thoughts I’d heard. I didn’t have to open it to recall the exact wording of the first thought I’d ever collected.
“I made a mistake,” I repeated Eric’s last thought, though it barely came out. I’d never spoken his words out loud, and I knew why. The words cut deep into my chest, tearing deep, sharp holes in my heart. I hated that he’d died with this last thought on his mind. He should’ve died happy.
But it was done now. He’d moved on. It was time I did, too.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued. “I don’t want to die.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. Fuck, I was only on the first one. How was I going to make it through hundreds?
The hard part is over, I told myself. You’ve faced Eric’s last thought. You can handle a handful of strangers’ thoughts. Let’s get this over with.
I opened my book and began to read the words I’d recorded. Some thoughts were easier than others. Some didn’t make sense at all. Every now and then, there were those that tore me to the very core. I couldn’t help but wonder if these people had crossed over all right. Had I done right by holding on to their thoughts so they could make it to the other side? Or had their dark past behind those thoughts held them back.
“I hope she got what she deserved,” I read.
The thoughts just kept going like that—revenge, regret, anger, sadness.
I’m not ready to go.
I should’ve stopped him from hurting her.
I’ll get my revenge in the afterlife.
I tried not to think about how much time had passed. The coldness of the night brushed across the back of my neck and seeped through my jacket. My fingers became numb, and I curled my arms around myself to try to keep warm. It barely helped though. I shivered, and my breath turned to fog each time I breathed out.
I’ll miss you.
I hope you keep your promise.
Is it playtime?
Page after page, it kept going. Hundreds of thoughts piling up. The more I read, the harder it became. It was like each thought I read added another ten-pound weight to my chest.
Finally, after an eternity of reviewing each and every thought in my journal, I reached the last page I’d filled in. I read out the last thought and breathed a sigh of relief. I’d done it. I reached the end!
I glanced around the cemetery, waiting for the reapers to appear, but I saw nothing.
“Hello?” I called out to the darkness. “Anyone there? I did like the spell said. I faced the thoughts! Where are you!?”
No answer came.
My guts sank. Frantically, I flipped back to the front of the journal and read the thoughts over again.
Still nothing.
“This is what I’m supposed to do, isn’t it?” I shouted. I was a fool if I actually thought someone was going to answer.
“I must be doing something wrong,” I muttered to myself. I turned back to the scroll and unrolled it all the way. I flipped it over once, then twice, to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. “This is it… that’s all I have to do. What am I doing wrong?”
That was my only explanation. I wasn’t doing it right.
Face the thoughts…
Maybe reading them wasn’t enough. Maybe it was about feeling them.
I took a deep breath and started at the beginning again for the third time. This time, I didn’t just read the words on the page. I took a breath for each thought and allowed the messages to seep deep into my soul. I gave each of them the time and consideration they deserved.
By the time I was done, hours must’ve passed. Fuck, if this took me much longer, I was going to miss Nadine’s ceremony.
I held my breath and looked around the cemetery again. I could swear I felt a presence there, but it must’ve been wishful thinking, because there were no reapers. No… anything.
“Come on…” I gritted my teeth and muttered under my breath. I reread the ritual again, and something jumped out at me.
“I have to let the thoughts go,” I realized.
It was so simple.
I conjured a lighter and held the edge of my journal above the flame. The pages caught fire instantly, and the flames eagerly ate away at the paper. Once the flames came too close to my hands, I tossed the journal to the snow in front of me. I watched as the flames ate away at the words on the page. Pieces of burnt paper broke off and drifted away in the wind, tumbling across the surface of the snow.
I wish I could say I felt something, but I didn’t. It should’ve been a relief, but the weight on my chest only became heavier.
Nothing within the cemetery changed. It was just shadows, just cold, just emptiness!
“Fuck the reapers!” I shouted to the skies. Frustration curled its evil arms around me, squeezing me so tight it was the only thing I could feel. My eyebrows knitted tightly together, and my lips pressed into a firm line.
Was this some kind of sick joke they were playing on me? Was this fucking ritual even real?
I got to my feet. “Where are you!?” I screamed, my voice echoing over the cemetery. “You’re supposed to be here! I summoned you! Come and take this curse from me!”
I reacted without thinking about it. I curled my hand into a fist and slammed my knuckles against the base of the reaper statue. A sharp, unbearable pain shot across my hand.
“Fuuuck!” I cried. I sucked air through my teeth and tried to catch my breath. “Is this what you wanted? Is this what the ritual needs? Blood and broken bones? Have them. I don’t fucking care anymore.”
Heavy, shallow breaths racked my chest, and my arms quaked. I held my hand tight to my abdomen, but the pain started to ease quickly. I flexed my hand to find it wasn’t broken. Hurt like a son of a bitch, though.
“Face the thoughts you’ve neglected. Accept and let go of all you’ve collected,” I spat. “You want to know the truth of what I’ve neglected? You want to know!?”
I was raging like a mad man at nothing but a lifeless statue, but I didn’t care.
“I fucking hate myself!” I screamed. “Is that what you want to hear? Let’s see… what have I collected? Shame! Guilt! Depression! You need a longer list? I didn’t see the signs that my brother was at the edge of his life. I could have stopped it if I just took a second to understand what he was going through—to listen to his cries for help. I should’ve known when he didn’t show up for my ceremony that something was wrong. I should’ve helped!”
I barely took a breath before I continued raging. “And guess what else? I made a promise to the highest power of all the coven, and I broke it. I said I’d accept whatever Mother Miriam had in store, but I rejected it the night she gave it to me. I should feel guilty about that. You want to know why I’m doing this? Because I’m damned to the Abyss anyway! Might as well try to enjoy the one chance at happiness I’ll ever get. But I don’t deserve even that! We all know it. That’s why you’re not here, isn’t it? I’m not worthy! You think so, too; otherwise you’d be here!”
I plopped my ass on the ground and lea
ned my back against the base of the reaper statue. I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face in my arms. My whole body shook, but I’d be damned if it didn’t feel good to get all that out in the open.
“Lucas.”
My gaze snapped upward at the sound of the voice. The blood drained from my face when I saw a cloaked man standing there. He was as solid as I was. I could hardly believe what I was seeing.
It worked!?
My heart began to pitter-patter against my rib cage. “You’re a reaper?” I questioned cautiously. Part of me worried this might be some sort of joke. My eyes roamed over him, looking for signs of death, but his hands were covered in dark gloves, and I couldn’t see his face.
“I’m Edgar Nowak, the newest member of the Reaper Order,” he stated. “I take it you’ve summoned me to remove your power.”
“So it’s true?” I asked hopefully. “You can do it?”
“Yes,” he said, but a grave warning lurked in his tone. “You understand what this means, don’t you?”
“I know,” I said desperately. “Refusing Mother Miriam’s gift will damn me to the Abyss. But I want it gone.”
“The Abyss is not a damnation to be taken lightly. Abandoning Mother Miriam is a sin that can never be forgiven,” he warned. “You will burn for all eternity. The flesh will be seared from your bones, regrown, and burned off again and again. Splinters will be shoved beneath your fingernails, before each fingernail is ripped from your nail bed one by one. Red-hot rods will be shoved into your eyes. You will not feel a moment of relief, young reaper. You will be faced with a nightmare most cannot even begin to imagine. You will suffer in ways men have never suffered before. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Nothing he said scared me. The real Hell was never getting a chance to live a full life with Nadine.
I stood and planted my feet firmly beneath me. All the shaking that had rocked my body moments ago had vanished. I held my head high as I answered. “I’m sure. Tell me what to do.”
Chapter 22
Nadine
My heart jumped into my throat, and I scurried backward until my back hit the gravestone behind me. My stomach felt as if a gaping hole were about to erupt open. I pulled my knees to my chest and curled myself into a ball. I buried my face into my knees, because I couldn’t stand to look at my parents’ graves.
I shouldn’t be here, I thought. Why had I come? I knew I’d never be able to handle it—seeing their names on the headstone, knowing their bodies had been placed into the ground at that very spot.
Your parents are dead.
I didn’t know where the voice had come from, but it must’ve been my own. It was a dark, cruel reminder of everything I’d been through after losing them. I wanted them back. I wanted them back more than anything. And I never would…
“Nadine,” a woman’s voice said.
I must’ve been hallucinating, because she sounded just like my mother. I lifted my gaze. I nearly dropped dead right then and there. Two figures stood above me, but it was like looking at ghosts.
“Nadine?” Dad asked, reaching out his hand.
Nothing about him had changed. He had brown hair, electric blue eyes, and a graying beard. Yet something felt… off.
Of course it does! He’s dead! I reminded myself.
“It’s okay, Nadine,” Mom encouraged. Her voice sounded like a song. She was so pretty. Why hadn’t I ever realized how pretty she was before?
My parents held their hands out to me, waiting for me to accept them.
“Is it really you?” I asked, my voice cracking.
Dad nodded. “It’s us, baby girl.”
Sobs began to rock my shoulders. I reached out and took each of their hands, and they helped me to my feet. I wrapped an arm around each of them, until the three of us were locked into an embrace. They felt so real—so solid. I didn’t know how, but they were here with me. Hot, heavy tears streamed down my face, but the hole in my belly started to close. I felt like I could breathe for the first time in months.
“How are you here?” I asked. I wished I could keep them here forever. “This is impossible.”
Mom drew away from me and tilted her head. “Impossible how, sweetheart?”
I sniffled and wiped the tears from my eyes. “You know.”
Mom and Dad exchanged a shocked expression. They didn’t know.
“We know what?” Dad asked. “What’s going on?”
A weight settled on my chest. How could they pretend like they didn’t know what happened? Tears fell down my cheeks. I wrapped my arms around myself because it was all I could do to hold myself together.
“You don’t remember?” I asked.
Mom tilted her head to the side. “Remember what?”
“You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?” I sobbed.
“We don’t understand,” Dad insisted. “Tell us what’s wrong, Nadine.”
My bottom lip trembled. I wanted to tell them, but I couldn’t get the words out. I just totally froze up.
Mom stepped forward and took my arm. I couldn’t believe how warm and real she felt. All I wanted to do was wrap her in my arms again.
But I couldn’t. Because no matter how much I wanted my parents with me, it couldn’t happen. I didn’t know how it was happening now, but it wasn’t real.
“Let’s go home,” Mom suggested. “We’ll get this all sorted out.”
I jerked away from her, but my voice came out really small. “I can’t go home with you.”
“Of course you can,” Dad said, like this was any old day. “We had plans to work on the car this afternoon.”
“And you and I were going to make cookies,” Mom reminded me.
My stomach dropped. I wanted to do all of that so badly. I’d love to drop everything and go home with them. But instead, I took a step back.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I told them. “You don’t belong here. I have to go back home to Octavia Falls.”
Mom’s brow furrowed. “You don’t live in Octavia Falls, Nadine. You’ve never been there. Are you having an episode?”
“No, I’m not having an episode,” I snapped. Why couldn’t they see? How could I make them understand?
“Then tell us what’s wrong,” Dad demanded.
“You’re dead!” I burst.
The world seemed to stop spinning. The entire cemetery went silent, though my voice continued to echo in the distance.
Dead. My parents were dead.
I’d said it aloud so many times before, but I never felt it like I did in that moment. They were truly, honestly, one-hundred-percent gone from this earth. And nothing I could do—no amount of praying, séances, necromancy, or potions—could bring them back.
Dad looked at me. His eyebrows knit together, creating deep lines of concern on his forehead. “What do you mean, baby girl? Your mother and I are fine.”
“No, you’re not!” I cried. “You died last summer. I planned your funeral. I watched your caskets be placed into the ground right—”
I cut off. As I gestured to their grave plot, I realized their names had been removed. There was nothing but smooth stone where their names had been carved.
“Nadine?” Mom asked, worry lacing her tone. “Are you okay?”
“No!” I cried, rounding the gravestone to inspect it from every angle. “No, I’m not okay. This is where I buried you. You’re not real! You’re ghosts!”
And that’s when it truly hit me. This was it for us. The next time I’d meet them would be in Alora.
“You’re ghosts,” I repeated in a low whisper. As I said it—as I felt it deep down within my soul—the names on the gravestone began to appear again. Bits of stone sank inward in the shape of letters, until it showed my parents’ names again.
Warmth spread throughout my heart when I realized what this meant. I’d been given a second chance to speak to them. I could say all the things I didn’t get the chance to say!
“Nadine—” Mom started,
but I cut her off.
“We might not have much time,” I said quickly. “Please let me get this out before you leave.”
I walked over to my father and pulled him into a tight hug. “Dad, I should have said thank you more. You supported me in everything. Do you remember when I was eight and snuck DVDs to my room to watch those homicide detective shows you and Mom thought I was too young for? You caught me one day, and I thought I would be grounded for life. But instead, you came into my room, sat next to me on the bed, and started watching with me. You didn’t say a thing, just held me in your arms and kept watching.”
Sobs bubbled up in my throat, but I continued. “When I was ten and told you I wanted to be a homicide detective, you didn’t think that was too off-the-wall. You bought me my first Clue game for my birthday, and you played every Sunday since. You taught me more about cars than most girls will ever know, and you made me fight when I thought there was no fight left in me.”
I drew away and wiped at my nose. Dad stared down at me with the softest, kindest expression. That was one of the things I missed most about him—the kindness.
“You taught me how to be good to other people,” I told him. “And I’m never going to forget that.”
Tears welled in my father’s eyes. “I love you, baby girl.”
“I love you, too.”
Dad and I shared another embrace. I didn’t want to pull away, but I had more to say to my mother.
I turned to her. “Mom, I wish I’d listened to you more. You are so wise. Especially about boys.”
Mom chuckled, but she couldn’t hide the tears. “I do have some experience in that area.”
“I miss everything about you,” I said. “The smell of your hair, and the way you’d dance when you were doing dishes. I miss coming home to the smell of freshly baked bread and cookies on the counter. Sometimes, I want to crawl into your bed like I did when I was a kid—because when I lost you, it was just one huge nightmare. But I know everything is going to be okay, because you taught me how to be independent in ways I didn’t realize.”
