Naomi Grim: The Final Breath Chronicles Book One

by V. B. Marlowe

  Doyle cracked his knuckles. “I'm sure you are already aware of the importance of this task. You must know what it means to Nowhere as well as your families. This assignment is to be taken seriously. Here is your task.”

  I had my fingers poised on the screen, ready to type.

  “You will fit in amongst the students at Kennedy High to the best of your ability. You need to split up, as you will cover more ground that way. You need to have your eyes and ears open. Look for students who appear to be troubled and rebellious. Try to find the culprits. Learn as many details of their plan as possible so you will be prepared to collect the lifestones immediately. Not being prepared will give the Foragers the opportunity to swoop in.”

  Bram laughed. “That's not going to happen. Trust me.”

  Doyle raised his dark, bushy eyebrows at Bram. “Don’t underestimate them. They've beaten us to the punch before.”

  Yes, they had. On more than one occasion, a Grim had shown up to collect a life, only to find out a Forager had gotten there first.

  That was a sensitive topic for Doyle. He, Dunningham's other assistants, and the Watchers didn't collect lives since they were required to be at Dunningham's beck and call. Their lives depended on the tithes, which meant that each family was required to give ten percent of their accumulated years annually—like a tax. The more lives we earned, the more years Dunningham's staff received. I'd never want to be on Dunningham's staff. I didn't like the idea of the length of my life being dependent on what others collected.

  Doyle continued, “In your backpack, you will keep a knapsack.” He held up a flimsy black sack. “Once the incident occurs, this knapsack is where you will put the lifestones. Guard this bag with your life.”

  I stole a look at Dunningham. He stared intently at something. I followed his gaze. He looked at something over Keira's head—or at Keira.

  I cleared my throat. “I think if someone is planning something like this, they'd keep it a secret. They're not exactly going to share that info with some random kids who just showed up.”

  Dunningham's stare shifted to me. I shuddered. He seemed creepier than he'd ever been.

  “My dear, you are a Grim. You have ways about you that Humans don't. You know how to lurk in the shadows. Use your training. Surely you know that any adept Grim can outsmart a Human.”

  “Yes, sir,” I muttered, but I wasn't sure. There had been several instances when I was positive a Fated had seen me before time.

  Dunningham continued. “You will still have your Grimbilities while you are there, however you must not use them in the presence of a Human, for obvious reasons.”

  Grimbilities were granted to us on our thirteenth birthdays. This gave us the ability to become invisible, walk through objects, and to transport ourselves from place to place.

  Doyle stood and paced back and forth. “We will spend much time talking about the ways of teenage Humans. You need to be aware of their practices and lingo so you fit in, but at the same time, you must uphold the Grim Covenant. This assignment will not be an excuse for you to break the law. The first and most important thing we need to discuss is intercourse.”

  I sank in my seat. That was the last thing I wanted to discuss in the company of two grown men and my brothers.

  “Keira Grim, what does Grim law say about intercourse?” Doyle asked.

  “Intercourse is to only take place once a Grim is married and the male has had his Confirmation ceremony,” Keira answered, correct as always.

  “Right, and how do teenagers where you are going feel about this, Master Dorian?”

  Dorian shifted, looking more uncomfortable than I felt. “Opinion varies, but they are a lot more lax than we are.”

  “They screw like bunnies,” Bram added. Dunningham shot him a look, and he immediately looked down. Think before you speak, Bram. “It's not as big a deal to them as it is to us.”

  Intercourse was a massive deal to us. Partaking in it before marriage or outside of marriage would hinder our life-collecting abilities—at least that's what we had always been taught. Regardless, it was punishable by death.

  Doyle ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Young Grims, you must guard yourselves. There is to be no kissing, hand-holding, or affectionate touching of any kind. If we find you are doing this, you will be pulled off the assignment immediately and punished accordingly. Is that understood?”

  “Yes,” we answered in unison. I had no desire for physical contact with anyone, much less a strange Human.

  After that, we talked about what kids were watching on TV. There was no television in Nowhere. I’d watched some from time to time, when I was following a Fated. Some of it fascinated me a little, and there were some shows I didn't understand.

  By the end of the day, we had covered intercourse, television, and music. We'd looked at pictures of several popular artists from different genres and listened to their current hits. Several times, I wished I could go temporarily deaf.

  The next day, Doyle came over bright and early, without Mr. Dunningham. We had six days until we went on assignment.

  We spent the day discussing celebrities. Who was “in” and why. Some of them were famous for being in movies, playing sports, or just for being born. I found myself completely disinterested, and the day crept along slowly.

  Once Mr. Doyle left, Dorian shot from his seat on the sofa. “Thank goodness. I have to get to my lab before I officially turn stupid.” He ran upstairs to his “lab”, which consisted of the microscope and liquid-filled test tubes on his desk. I wasn't sure what Dorian did there, he spent a lot of time pretending to be a scientist.

  Keira sighed. “Okay, is anybody else getting less excited about this as the days go by? I mean, the money is great, but I don't think I can pretend to be one of them. And making friends with them . . .”

  “I'm looking forward to it,” Bram answered. “I think it will be quite interesting to see how I would fit in if I were a Human.”

  I, on the other hand, didn’t want to know. According to Bram, I didn’t have the heart of a Grim. Learning about Humans and understanding them better was probably the last thing I needed.

  * * *

  The following day, we discussed the high school infrastructure, which sounded like the game of politics my father and the men of Farrington played with Dunningham. I found that comparison to be quite sad.

  Doyle projected a screen on the empty wall of our living room. “At the top, you have the popular students. These students are often popular because of their good looks, the way they dress, and their big personalities. It's not very likely the kids planning a school massacre will be among this group, so you shouldn’t waste your time becoming one of them.”

  “I don’t think I'll be able to help it. Those kids are going to adore me. I know it.” Bram was a lot more disruptive now that Dunningham wasn't present. He was popular in Nowhere though, so he just might be popular where we were going.

  Doyle ignored him. “Next you have the regular kids. You may want to get to know some of these kids. Then there's the bottom rung. The nerds, outcasts, losers—whatever the kids call them. These are the kids you want to fall in with and really get to know.”

  Bram pointed at the rest of us. “You guys are going to fit right in with them.”

  Doyle spoke some more about queen bees, jocks, cheerleaders, student council presidents, and hierarchy. My head began to spin. I had been exposed to this world quite a bit, but I never knew things could be so complicated. I was on information overload.

  The lesson that day was cut short because there was a gathering in front of the Mill at two in the afternoon.

  We did what was expected of us at gatherings—donned our cloaks and took our scythes. My brothers and I stood next to our father as the Grims gathered in their assigned sections in front of the Mill—Litropolis, then Farrington, and then the Upper Estates.

  The sound of a horn blasted through the air. Silence fell as Dunningham made his way to the podium that stood o
n the platform. I couldn't see him from where I stood, but there were plenty of monitors planted around that I could watch from.

  Dunningham leaned over into the microphone. “Dear Grims, I'm sure you know by now that Foragers invaded our colony the other day. They have been captured. Now we will brand them and put them to work.”

  The Watchers led a line of twelve men, tethered together, onto the platform. The men were barefoot and wearing nothing aside from black loincloths. They were directed to turn their backs to the crowd and kneel.

  I hated this part. The memories of my own branding made me feel woozy. On my thirteenth birthday, like every other Grim, I'd been branded with a very elaborate G on my right shoulder. I'd never felt anything like that blinding pain, nor did I want to again.

  The crowd cheered, my brothers and father included, as the Watchers removed hot pokers from a small fire pit on the platform. The poker was pressed into the first man’s skin. He screamed. There was something wrong about a grown man screaming like that. His body shook as he fell onto the platform, and I had to look at the ground.

  One by one, the other eleven men were branded with an X on their right shoulders. I was thankful the cheers from the crowd drowned out their cries. I kept my eyes focused on the ground and away from the monitors. I couldn't bear to watch their pain.

  The X would seal their fate. Foragers didn't have many years left, and that particular group would spend the remainder of their years as slaves, working in the Mill under watchful eyes, shoveling and transporting the very lifestones they had come to steal. The men would have probably welcomed an execution instead.

  Once all twelve men were branded, the cheering escalated.

  “This is what happens when they mess with the Grim!” Dunningham shouted.

  The Grims roared in agreement. The men were led off the platform and Dunningham dismissed us.

  I didn't like everything about being a Grim, but those gatherings? I hated them.

  Chapter 6

  Four days left. Mother was still on assignment. I needed her to come back before we left. I needed her to tell me I would do a fine job and I wouldn't let my family down. I wished there was a way we could communicate while she was out, but that was impossible. When we were on assignment, we had to be focused on the task at hand.

  That morning at the breakfast table, I read over my notes as I waited for Doyle to come over and give that day's lesson. My bagel tasted extra dry. Even the strawberry cream cheese couldn't save it.

  Bram entered the kitchen and headed for the coffeepot. “You still sad about them?”

  I ignored him. I didn’t know what I was sad about.

  “They're just Foragers, Nay. They keep money from our pockets and food from our mouths. If we don’t take care of them, our colony won't function. Is that what you want?”

  I threw my bagel down on the plate. “There are other ways, Bram. Technically, they're Grims too, and there are plenty of lifestones to go around. Unequal distribution is the problem. The Grims of the Upper Estates have more than necessary.”

  Bram walked toward me with his coffee cup. “Yeah, so we should just share like one big, happy family. That's the best part about the Upper Estates—they live forever. Of course, you can't see that. You'd rather sit around and feel sorry for our enemies. You’ve never had the heart of a Grim.”

  I'd lost track of how many times he'd said that to me.

  Keira and Josh arrived, followed closely by Doyle and, unfortunately, Dunningham and his dogs. Didn't he have better things to do than to sit in on our lessons?

  We settled into our usual spots on the sofa. Today's topic: fashion. Doyle handed us several magazines and catalogs to flip through. I saw a variety of skirts, short sleeveless dresses, and colorfully printed pants. Nice, but not exactly my style. In Nowhere, we tended to stick to black jeans, black tanks, and black hoodies—our comfortable proper life-collecting attire—since we could be dispatched at any moment.

  Of course a lot of us girls opted for the more fashionable hoodies: the ones with skulls, crossbones, scythes, or the Grim emblem studded with crystals. I'd heard that the girls in the Upper Estates actually had their blazers studded with real diamonds.

  Like most girls, Keira and I kept our fingernails and toenails perfectly manicured and painted black, which many Human teenagers also did.

  “I refuse to wear a tutu,” Keira remarked, turning a page in a magazine.

  “You don't have to,” Dunningham said, “but you cannot wear black jeans and hoodies every day. You'll stick out like sore thumbs. Try to find a style you feel comfortable with.”

  Once our teachers left, Bram grinned mischievously. “You guys want to come with me?”

  “Come with you where?” Josh asked.

  “I'll tell you when we get there.”

  “No, thanks,” I answered. Nothing good could come from blindly following Bram anywhere.

  “I want to go,” Dorian said, but the quiver in his voice told me he didn't really mean it. He was always trying to prove himself to Bram or our father.

  “Me too,” Josh said. Of course. Every male in Farrington was intrigued by Bram.

  “No,” Keira said firmly.

  “Oh, come on. It won't take long,” Bram promised.

  Since the boys insisted on tagging along, Keira insisted on going to make sure her brother was okay, so I went along too.

  Bram walked briskly with his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, and as always, we trailed behind.

  After twenty minutes, I realized that Bram was taking us to the edge of Farrington, toward Litropolis.

  “Bram, seriously, where are we going?” Keira asked with a hint of apprehension in her voice.

  “I want to get something that's really going to help me fit in on our mission,” he answered.

  “What?” Dorian asked.

  “A tattoo. And maybe some ear gauges.”

  Both of those things were forbidden by Grim law and considered body mutilation. It was also thought to be low class. Something only Foragers and the people of Litropolis did. I had to admit, I'd wanted a really cool tattoo since I was ten.

  “Bram, are you crazy?” Keira asked.

  “Nothing's going to happen. I'm doing it for the assignment. Dunningham will understand.”

  Keira stopped. “Josh, let's go back.”

  “No way!” Josh argued. “You heard what Bram said. We're not going to get in trouble.”

  Keira grabbed her brother's arm. “Bram doesn't know what he's talking about, and he's the last person you should be listening to. Let's go.”

  Bram put his hands up. “Listen, if Josh wants to come along, he should. Let him be a man. Like I said before, Dunningham won't mind. He'll understand.”

  I wasn't so sure about that.

  Keira let go of Josh's arm, probably knowing she couldn't change her brother's mind. “Fine, but we'd better make it quick.”

  We had to pass through an area filled with tall, brushy shrubs before reaching the shallow creek that separated Farrington from Litropolis. I pushed the branches out of my way. I pulled my hood over my head to keep my face from getting scratched.

  Our view of the city was blocked by an ugly cement wall. There was a place in the wall where the cement blocks could be taken out and moved for someone to pass through. I didn't know why Dunningham had never made a move to seal it. Surely his efficient Watchers knew about it. I looked around for one of them, but there were none in sight.

  “Great. We have to get our shoes wet?” Keira asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice.

  “I'll carry you over,” Bram offered.

  Keira pushed him away. “Don't touch me.” She tiptoed across the creek, and the rest of us followed.

  My leather boots proved to be good protection from the creek water, so I couldn't complain. We had to walk almost half a mile down the wall to get to the spot where the stones were loose. The whole way, I thought about how stupid we were being, but Bram would only do s
omething even more moronic if Keira weren't around.

  Bram knelt and grunted as he pushed one of the loose cement blocks. It dropped with a thud. Josh and Dorian stepped forward to help, but Bram told them to stand back. He did the same with several blocks until there was a spot big enough for us to slide through.

  Bram raised his finger at us and then stuck his head through the space. “Okay, come on,” he said before crawling through. Josh and Dorian followed him. Keira and I pulled up the rear.

  I had been to Litropolis once before, but I was still appalled at what I saw. There were no houses in Litropolis, just rows and rows of tents—or, for the more fortunate, tiny shacks made from old pieces of wood and tin. Countless fires blazed in large tin barrels lining the narrow streets. They had been lit in preparation for nighttime. Litropolis had no electricity. I couldn't imagine how they lived that way.

  One of their biggest complaints was how they had to donate a portion of the few lifestones they earned to Nowhere's Generator Fund, yet their city had no electricity. It was a double slap in the face, having to give part of their meager earnings to a fund that didn't even benefit them. Their argument was totally understandable, but I wasn't supposed to worry about it.

  As we navigated the street, almost everyone we passed stopped to stare. Of course, no one said anything. Judging from our clothing, we were obviously from Farrington and, therefore, above them.

  The people of Litropolis were draped in dark-colored rags and cloaks. Twice a year, the Grim Ladies’ Society did a clothing drive to collect people's unwanted materials to donate to Litropolis. I wondered if I would spot someone wearing my old clothes.

  A group of small, barefooted children ran around us as they played a game of tag. They took no notice of the foreigners in their space.

  Bram squinted and looked inside the tents as we passed.