Grim

by Thea Atkinson

  "Bitch, isn't it?" she said.

  "But you can't stay here," I said. "Not forever."

  "I'll stay as long as I have to," she said and I saw in that moment how tired she was. It was etched over every muscle of her face and the sag of her shoulders. "I don't have any choice."

  "Everyone has a choice," I said.

  "It's not that easy," she said, shaking her head. "They'll come for me. And they'll do anything to retrieve me. I can't risk you or your grandfather or that handsome but glowering hero out there."

  "So I'll just take them out," I said. "After all, I'm some sort of bad ass Grim Reaper now."

  She cocked her head at me. "Who apparently is supposed to kill me," she said with a grin tugging at her mouth.

  I blinked stupidly. I had forgotten that. I squirmed as I remembered the glittering dust funneling into Azrael's cane. I shook my head without realizing I was doing it.

  She laid her hand on my arm, comforting. "I'm just messing with you, Ayla. Grim Reapers have no dominion over supernatural beings. You couldn't reap me if you tried." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You might be able to kill me," she said, thoughtful. "But you couldn't reap me."

  "Because you have no souls?" I guessed and I felt an incredible relief wash over me. Maybe I had got it all wrong. Maybe I had misunderstood because I was so scared.

  "Well we do have a sort of essence," she said in an absent-minded way. "There are creatures who do collect our essences, but you'd have to --"

  I gathered by the way she halted midsentence she could see the look of horror I felt creeping over my face.

  "Don't tell me," she said. "You're Nathelium."

  I nodded slowly, almost afraid of her reaction.

  "You can't be," she said. "You're fallen?"

  Another nod because I couldn't trust my voice.

  "You're a fallen one who collects the essences of those who are not mortal?"

  "Apparently so," I said trying to put in how sorry I felt to share that awful truth. I watched her expression shift from disbelief to realization and then to fear.

  "I'm not doing it," I said. "I don't care what the angel of death says will happen, I don't care about some life eons ago that I don't remember." I almost told her that I didn't care what would happen to me if I didn't collect her up, but I stopped short because I truly couldn't see me doing it. It was inhuman thing to do, to kill someone, and I was human. For this incarnation, my last incarnation, I would be human.

  "Angel of death, huh?" she said with a narrowed gaze. "Honey, you have to fill me in."

  I shrugged. "There's not much to tell," I said and she cocked a blonde brow.

  "When we're home," I said. "And fed. And slept the sleep of the dead."

  She tapped her fingernails along her teeth. "A shower does sound divine. And a hot meal." There was a longing in her voice that made me want to encourage her, but she paused just as I opened my mouth to seal the deal.

  "But I can't," she said and blew out a long, resigned sigh. "I don't dare."

  I eyed the cooler. "Your supplies must be running low."

  She blinked at me.

  "And you looked awful tired."

  She was giving in. I knew it. I knew I'd won.

  She tugged at her braid, pulling it forward and sticking the tip of it in her mouth. She chewed on it for a moment reflectively, her brow furrowed. Bits of black hair poked out the other corner.

  I stooped to start picking up the throw pillows and tucked one under my arm.

  "You dyed your hair," I said.

  "Fat lot of good it did me," she said. She lifted the tip of the braid inspected the ends. "I miss the blonde."

  She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. I had the feeling it was taking more than a little courage for her to decide to leave. Her gaze swung from the sleeping bag along the floor with its threadbare throw pillows and cell phone. With a great, shuddering inhale, she shook her hands out.

  "Okay," she said. "I'm good." She tugged at her braid and threw the pony tail back over her shoulder. For the first time, I could see the roots of her blonde hair as she stooped to pick up her cell phone and shoved it into her pocket.

  We were already to the door, carrying a candle in each hand for light when Callum appeared close to the outer exit. He had cleared a path through the skeletons, even placing a few of the skulls back into their crannies in the wall. He looked a little less shocked. As if the very act of it had solidified the entire situation for him. I sent him a thready smile that he returned.

  It took me a moment to realize something hovered in the air behind him. Something that looked an awful lot like Sarah. Cross legged and blonde haired, this thing wavered in and out, getting steadily more solid as I watched.

  "You're still behind me, right?" I said over my shoulder. "That thing isn't really you, is it?"

  A quiet word from behind me. "No."

  I felt every muscle in my body begin to burn. "Then what the hell is it?" I said, but had a feeling I already knew that whatever it was, it was something that carried even more of a wallop for a supernatural reaper than the human necromancer standing behind me.

  "That," Sarah said from behind me, "is my doppelgänger And it doesn't look happy."

  CHAPTER 10

  There were a few things I never thought I would see in my lifetime, and even less that I thought I would do. A true harbinger of death was not in my realm of possible stops along my lifetime sightseeing tour, but screaming in terror because one has suddenly popped up out of nowhere certainly wasn't out of the question. I think Sarah must have realized I was about to let loose with a shriek that would pierce the otherworld and figured with all her experience, it was probably not the right thing to do at the moment. Not with Callum standing there, totally oblivious to the thing hovering behind him.

  I felt her hand slip into mine and squeeze. One small almost imperceptible whisper moved along my hair.

  "Don't move," she said.

  No problem. My feet were stuck to the earth as though I'd suddenly grown roots. I had no idea what a harbinger could do, but if it scared Sarah, it certainly bore the offering of a little careful respect.

  I peered over my shoulder at her, thinking she would at least know what the next step was.

  "Something isn't right." She stood as rooted to the floor of the tunnel as I was, her hands working in the air as though she was searching for something. I realized in an instant that whatever she had left back in the cooler was critical for whatever it was that she did to weave whatever spells a necromancer threaded together.

  "Can it hurt us?" I rasped out. I was thinking mostly of Callum right in front of it. I kept my eye on the thing behind him, too afraid to let on something was there and wanting desperately to yell at him to get out of the way.

  I heard Sarah shuffling around behind me, almost as though she was trying to use me as a shield.

  "Can you do something?" I said.

  "Not without my stuff," She hesitated over the word stuff as though she was going to say something else and I swallowed down my distaste. It might not have been liver I'd seen in that bag, but it was something equally distasteful. Raw innards of something or other.

  "It can't touch us, right?" I said. "It's just a ghostly type thing."

  She sighed. "Normally, But this one has been empowered with the ability to kill or incapacitate."

  Her hand reached out for mine in the dark as the other one gently placed her candle into an cranny next to a skull. The light flickered as it moved.

  "It won't kill me," she said and I realized with horror she'd stressed the personal pronoun.

  "Great," I muttered. The thing behind Callum was most definitely almost solid. In seconds, it would be right there and he would either realize it stood behind him or it would do something awful like snap his neck before he could draw another breath.

  I decided to take a chance. After all, I had taken down a fully-fledged supernatural reaper with nothing but a shard of glass.

>   I was already charging ahead, shrieking like a banshee, when the thing fully solidified behind Callum. The look on his face might been comical as he caught sight of me hurtling at him through the gloom of the tunnel, except the thing behind him wrapped its arms around his waist and lifted him clean off the floor. I ran straight through where he had once stood and slammed into the door.

  I fell backward onto my ass and bit down hard on my tongue as I landed. One of my elbows rammed into something solid, a rock or a bone. Out of instinct, I rolled over onto my side and cradled the aching and buzzing joint, moaning out loud through a mouth that tasted of blood.

  Too late, I realized I had left my back to the doppelgänger above me and Callum's wildly thrashing feet. One of his boots connected with the back of my head and I fell flat.

  The pain didn't hit for at least two seconds, but when it did, it pulled a whimper from me. I wasn't ready for this. I had foolishly thought that because I had been lucky with the reaper who had come to collect me, that I'd somehow imbibed some special skills or power from his death. Hadn't Azrael told me so? Well if it had, it certainly didn't include mad fighting skills. All I could do beneath that horrific thing above me was try to claw my way out from beneath it.

  I flipped over onto my back, and tried to crab myself back into the tunnel toward Sarah. In that time, I realized that the reason Callum was thrashing around so desperately was because the thing had shifted its grip to his throat and was choking him with one hand. I tried to claw my way to my feet and went momentarily blind as another blast of pain struck. That was when I realized the thing's gnarled fingers had tangled into my hair and was pulling me off the floor to a staggering stand.

  I could feel clumps of hair tearing from my scalp, sending a line of fire streaking across the top of my head. I panted in pain and strained for the floor with the tips of my toes to ease off some of the pressure. I called up long nights of training and punched out at the thing, hoping to connect with something solid.

  Instead, even as my quick jabs snapped out, the doppelgänger's reach magically extended as it shifted its shape and transformed into something that resembled a troll from a child's fairy tale.

  I had good, clear vision of the thing, with its long jowls that dripped foaming orange saliva onto the floor of the tunnel. I could swear I heard its spit sizzle as it struck the hard packed earth beneath me. The thing's teeth reminded me of a shark's double row of incisors, and as its gaze landed on me, I thought I could make out in the depths of its yellow eyes the flash of recognition. It howled in laughter and shook me, lifting me higher from the floor. I heard Callum gagging as he fought. I could feel each thrust he made as he twisted in the thing's grip.

  We dangled there together, and I watched helplessly as Callum's green eyes popped wide open as his thick fingers worked at the hand around his throat. He was struggling fiercely, kicking at whatever he could connect with and twice his boots knocked into my shins, eliciting shrieks of pain from me that made the creature chuckle all the more. My hands went to my hair automatically and then recoiled as I felt the slimy knuckles of the doppelgänger.

  I didn't know what to do. Terror was all my mind could register. I felt soaked in adrenaline as every muscle in my body twitched to free itself even as my mind blanked out. I reached out for Callum, thinking that in our last moments, he would want to feel something human. Something warm and flesh covered. I knew I wanted it, that last bit of human touch before Azrael came to collect me up in a glittering pile of ash into the top of his cane.

  Hot tears streamed down my face as I thought about that very strong possibility and as I tried to search through watery eyes for Callum's face, my fingers found his waist. With every ounce of my body screaming to work at being released, I fought to hold on to him. If I could just prop him up with my weight, maybe he could work his way free.

  Somewhere through the haze of panic, I heard chanting. But there was also the sound of rattling bones again, and I knew exactly what that sound meant. The army had been resurrected and they were on the march. I just hoped they knew who the enemy was. I expected them to rush forward with bits of bone and ribs again, but instead I heard the dull thud of something hitting the ground. Stones. Rocks. All sizes and shapes were missiling their way through the air around me.

  Dirt sprayed around me, peppering my face and hair. Some of it struck the corner of my mouth and flew inside, leaving me sputtering on the taste of mould and debris.

  "Sweet heaven," I said. "They're stoning us." I tried to catch Callum's legs but he was kicking too fiercely.

  Something struck me in the chest and made me gasp. I wasn't sure of the size of the rock that hit me, but it felt big enough to have done damage. My rib cage would be bruised for days if I manage to get out of there. If. It was a pretty big order at that point. As long as I was being held by the harbinger I'd be a target. If I didn't live through this, I'd end up as so much glitter in the top of an elderly man's cane.

  Right. Not going to happen.

  "We need to get free," I shouted at Callum. "Give me your legs. Trust me."

  He stopped kicking and for a second I thought maybe he had gone unconscious, but I could still hear the gurgling in his throat. Alive, then. Still conscious. That was a good sign. I sucked in a breath, telling myself it would only hurt for a minute. Surely a few seconds of pain was worth a lifetime.

  I braced myself with my palms against the revolting creature's chest and pulled. The burning pain in my scalp let go. I fell, face first, to the floor of the tunnel and it was only some quick instinct that made me roll under Callum's feet.

  "Stand up," I hollered, and realized even as Callum's full weight came down on my back, I didn't need to help him. He fell on top of me like dead weight and pushed the air from my limbs in one gust. I gagged on the last remnants of air as I choked to suck it back in.

  It took several moments of my chest heaving before I managed to feed enough oxygen to my lungs to breathe without wheezing. I rolled over onto my side, facing the other end of the tunnel. Sarah stood there clenching something plump and red that leaked red fluid through her fingers. Her face was covered in blood. Candles burned all around her.

  Callum was coughing somewhere to my side. The harbinger touched ground. I could feel its breath on the back of my neck. I had to get up. I had to run.

  I had made it to a sprinter's lunge when Sarah shouted a word I supposed would sound the same in any language: attack, and her army of bones lifted from the ground as one unit and with a great shriek hurtled toward us.

  Half a dozen of them slammed into me, knocking me on the cheek and temple and taking the wind from me again. I fell backwards one more time, but this time I wasn't lucky enough to fall free of debris. My head struck the rock that I had used to prop open the door and I lay for a long moment unable to move. I prayed I wouldn't black out. I wanted to see what came at me.

  I tried to roll onto my side and push myself onto my elbow, but I collapsed again, my muscles spent and weak. The doppelgänger had decided it was me who posed the most threat, even though I couldn't get up.

  "Seriously," I said, thinking of Callum and the way he was lying next to me coughing. "He's a hell of a lot stronger than me."

  I sought out Sarah and found her struggling to walk forward, a look on her face that would've terrified me if I hadn't just stared into the pageant winner.

  "Do something," I said.

  She took one look at me and took a shuddering breath before she collapsed to her knees. She reached out with one hand and made a wrenching motion as though she was opening a door. Light flooded the space and washed over me. In that one second, it bathed the tunnel, and everything inside except the sound of ragged breathing either disappeared or fell to a clattering heap.

  A look of relief washed over her face and I knew it was over.

  "Thank God," I said.

  She gave me a weak smile and then fell over in a crumpled heap.

  I think I called out her name but it all got lost as
I tried to push myself to my feet and run to her. My knees went weak and I collapsed. It was only Callum's strong arms beneath my knees that made me realize I had probably twisted my ankle. Like he had hours before, he started to hoist me against his chest.

  "I don't need saving," I said. "Get Sarah."

  The black line of his brows knit together but he nodded and scuffled to the back of the tunnel. I watched him hoist her into his arms and carry her out into the daylight. I started to shiver, whether it was the flood of adrenaline or terror or post traumatic stress, I quaked as though I was a leaf in the wind. I squeezed my eyes closed, because I didn't want to see what was around me. I didn't want to remember it. I knew I'd be seeing it all in my nightmares for months to come.

  It seemed an incredible amount of time before I heard his boots on the stone steps again and his shadow fell across me as he came to the door. I lifted my face to see him kneeling down for me.

  "Sarah," I said.

  "Don't worry," he said and his voice was a ghost of itself, with nothing but a harsh rasp to help it carry. "Her vitals are good."

  If I had to explain how wonderful his arms felt as they slipped beneath my knees, I would have to use the word heaven. But there was no way I could describe the relief I felt as I was lifted out of that dark and moldy place and was carried up the stairs to the surface.

  When the warmth of the sun hit my face, I realized I was crying. I could see where he'd lain Sarah just at the edge of the parking lot where the grass met pave. It was still early morning yet, perhaps just past dawn, but the sun was high enough already I could make out how incredibly pale she looked in the light. I wondered how long it had been since she'd had a decent meal or a decent night's sleep. Judging by the things we had encountered in the crypt, I imagined it had been months.

  Callum eased me down onto the grass that bordered the parking lot just half a foot or so away from her and knelt down next to me. The grass was still wet with dew, and the ache of early fall crispness soaked into my clothes, making me shiver. I looked sideways at Sarah and noticed he had lain his jacket over her. I reached out to touch her arm. Warm. I let out a stuttering breath. Thank God. We were okay. We were all okay.