How to be Death

by Amber Benson

  “Wow,” I breathed, unaware that the success of Freezay’s investigation had hinged solely upon a complete and utter lie.

  Before he could get away, I had something I wanted to discuss with Freezay, but I was uncertain of how to broach the subject. I debated letting it drop, but then I decided just to be plainspoken about it.

  “What will you do now?” I asked.

  Freezay shrugged, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

  “Don’t know really. I guess I’ll go back to my enforced retirement … lots of fishing and eating food that’s terrible for me as I enjoy the beauty of the Central Coast.”

  “You know, you could always come work for me,” I blurted out, the idea I’d been mulling around in my head for the past few hours finally injected into reality. “I mean we could use a man like you. It’s really just Jarvis, Runt, and my sister, Clio, helping me run the show.”

  Freezay leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

  “It’s an enticing offer, that’s for sure,” he said, scooting his chair back so he could stand up. “But one I’d have to think on.”

  I watched him walk to the doorway, his gait steady and sure. I didn’t know what he’d done to get himself kicked out of the Psychical Bureau of Investigations, but frankly, I didn’t care. I liked Edgar Freezay exactly as he was … and I was gonna find a way to get him on my team whether he liked it or not.

  “I’ll let you know. And soon,” Freezay said, stopping in the doorway for a moment—then he disappeared into the corridor, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  I sat back in my chair, sighing, as I waited for Jarvis and Runt to return. They’d gone to make the arrangements for the four bodies to be wormholed back to Sea Verge, where they would then be cremated and their ashes spread across the Rhode Island Sound.

  “Knock, knock.”

  I looked up to find Daniel standing in the doorway, his lean body looking even more scrumptious than usual.

  “Hey,” I said, standing up and walking over to him.

  “You look tired. Nice PJs, though.”

  I laughed and then I was in his arms, his lips against mine, our tongues fumbling in the hot wetness of each other’s mouths.

  God, I’d missed him.

  When we’d had our fill, we broke apart, but kept our hands entwined together, unable to bear even a second of separation.

  “I missed you,” I said, biting my lip, my throat constricting—and before I even realized it, I was crying.

  He reached out, brushing away my tears with his fingers.

  “I missed the crud out of you, you idiot,” he said, pulling me into his arms and squeezing me tightly against him.

  “Really?” I murmured hopefully.

  “We shouldn’t be apart,” he continued, stroking my unruly hair. “I don’t care anymore. I just need you in my life. I love you, Cal.”

  “I love you, too,” I whispered.

  “Did you really not know it was me?” he asked suddenly.

  “Huh?” I said.

  “Before the Masquerade Ball, when I helped you up after you’d fallen. You didn’t seem to know it was me, but then I thought maybe you did when you kissed me …” He trailed off.

  So, Daniel was my mysterious stranger, I thought to myself. And that meant the lipstick I’d seen on his neck … was mine.

  “It was a beautiful mask,” I said, not answering his question. He grinned at me, not sure if I was teasing him.

  “You’re a strange girl, Calliope Reaper-Jones,” he whispered as he moved in to kiss me again. But just as our lips met, I heard a creak out in the hallway, and we pulled apart to find Caoimhe standing in the doorway, uncertainty rife in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  She started to back away, but I broke apart from Daniel and walked over to the doorway, stopping her before she could disappear.

  “Wait,” I said. Then I glanced at Daniel. “Can I have a couple of minutes?”

  He nodded, but I could tell that now that he had me again, he didn’t ever want to let me go.

  “Why don’t I pack and then meet you in your room?” Daniel said, kindly giving me the freedom to do what I needed. “We can catch a wormhole back to Sea Verge together from there.”

  “That would make me very happy,” I said, grinning back at him—and suddenly I didn’t want to let him go either.

  “I love you,” I mouthed to him as he left. He smiled, the sides of his eyes crinkling, and then he was gone, leaving Caoimhe and me to do our business in private.

  “I really didn’t mean to interrupt,” Caoimhe said, looking sheepish.

  I didn’t want her to feel any worse than she already did.

  “It’s fine. He was just going anyway.”

  She seemed to believe me, but she was still nervous as she crossed the threshold and walked toward me.

  “You said earlier that there was something you needed to talk to me about?” I asked, getting the ball rolling.

  Caoimhe hesitated, licking her lips as she grasped the edge of one of the dining room chairs, holding on to it so tightly her fingers turned white.

  “Yes, there is something I need to discuss with you—” She stopped, raising a trembling hand to her mouth. Whatever she had to say to me was proving very difficult for her to get out.

  “Sorry,” she said, composing herself. “I told myself I wouldn’t get upset and here I am, getting upset.”

  I wanted to touch her hand, assure her there was nothing she could say that was worth this suffering, but I was afraid to spook her, so I let it ride.

  “All right,” she began again. “This is a very hard thing for me to say, but I made a mistake a long time ago and I’m hoping that you’ll give me the chance to make it up to you. You have to understand my situation, how much I love Morrigan and never wanted to hurt her … and your father was so persuasive—”

  “Okay, stop,” I interrupted, totally confused. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

  “Calliope … I’m your mother.”

  The shock was absolute. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t breath … all I could do was stare at the woman before me, trying to make sense of the strange sentence she’d just uttered.

  “It happened during a Masquerade Ball more than twenty years ago,” she said. “I had no idea who the masked man I’d been with was and I didn’t care. I wanted a baby so badly I couldn’t think straight—and the ball was my only opportunity to make it happen. I knew Morrigan would forgive me once it was all over and I explained my rationale, but I didn’t dare tell her beforehand for fear that she’d stop me from doing it.”

  I started shaking, my whole body vibrating on some unknown frequency.

  “When you were conceived, it was the greatest blessing that had ever been bestowed upon me,” she continued, starting to cry. “But Morrigan didn’t take it as well as I had hoped. How she discovered your father was my partner that night, I’ll never know, but she went to him and told him that I was pregnant.”

  I had to sit down, my legs so weak they could barely hold me. I collapsed into a chair, my throat dry as a bone as I listened to Caoimhe’s story.

  “Your father wouldn’t take no for an answer,” she went on. “He and Morrigan persuaded me that giving you to him and his wife would be the best thing for you. You were Death’s Daughter and you would never be safe without his protection. I didn’t know what to do … so I went to see the great seer, Anjea, telling myself I would do whatever she said was best for you.”

  “Anjea?” I heard myself saying.

  “She took one look at me …” Caoimhe laughed—but there was no mirth in it. “She took one look at me and said that one day you would be Death.”

  Caoimhe stopped again, her eyes wet.

  “She said I must protect you at all costs. That you would be the greatest balance the world had ever known.”

>   I started to cry, my heart beating so hard I thought it was going to burst.

  “So you just gave me to them?” I almost shouted, anger surging inside me like wildfire.

  “I did what I thought was best for you,” she cried.

  “Why didn’t you ever contact me?” I asked, pain snaking through my heart.

  “I wanted to, but your mother—the woman who raised you—said no. Once you were theirs, there was nothing I could do.”

  I suddenly understood so much, why I was so different from my mother and sisters, why I had never really fit into their world. It was like a giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I was finally free.

  “Please don’t hate me,” Caoimhe said, her whole body trembling as she stood before me, tears coursing down her face. “Please…”

  I stood up and ran to her—this alien woman who was my mother—letting her enfold me into her arms. I cried as she held me so tightly I thought I might break, but then she released me and held me back from her chest so she could look into my eyes.

  “You are so beautiful,” she whispered, kissing both of my cheeks. “And I am so proud of you.”

  She pulled me back into her arms and we stayed like that, holding on to each other like our lives depended on it (and maybe they did), until Jarvis and Runt came into the dining room, ready to take me home.

  epilogue

  I stood in my bedroom at the Haunted Hearts Castle, trying to avoid the residual bloodstains left by the night’s murderous activities while I packed my bag for the return trip to Sea Verge. Actually, my bag still had Coy’s head in it, so this was a loner from Jarvis, but I didn’t care. I was just happy to be getting the hell out of California in one piece.

  Runt, Jarvis, and Daniel were on their way over, so I was hoping to make quick work of it, but I was finding it hard to concentrate. My brain kept returning to Caoimhe’s face, wanting to decipher all the bits of her that were inside me.

  Jarvis hadn’t been surprised when I’d introduced Caoimhe as my mother. He’d known about my parentage, though not who the woman was, and had been sworn to secrecy on the subject of my birth. At first, I’d been angry with him, but then I’d decided that it wasn’t really his place to tell me. In the end, it should’ve been my father. He should’ve told me, not left me to spend my life never knowing the truth.

  As it was, I was already trying to make up for lost time. I’d made plans with Caoimhe to have lunch the following week—I wanted to get to know the woman who had borne me—and even if it meant I was going to have to spend time with bitchy old Morrigan, too, I knew it was worth it. Caoimhe obviously loved her—and I had no intention of making my mother choose between us. If Morrigan wanted to do that, then it was her business, but I was going to try to make the whole thing as painless for Caoimhe and myself as possible.

  There was a knock on my door just as I dropped the last item of clothing into my bag, and I sighed, happy to be packed.

  “Come in!” I called, zipping up the bag and setting it on the floor just as I heard the door open behind me.

  “I wanted to apologize.”

  I looked up to find Kali standing in the doorway, looking sheepish.

  “Why should you apologize?” I said. “I was the one who was being such a bitch.”

  She shrugged, leaning against the doorway.

  “I should apologize because it made me happy Daniel might be sleeping with Coy and that I got to tell you so.”

  “Kali, I totally knew that’s what you were doing,” I said, shrugging. “But it’s still no excuse for being mean to you. I was just hurt and I lashed out.”

  “Well, you were hurt because of me.” She sighed. “I couldn’t wait to share Daniel’s infidelity with you.”

  “He wasn’t my boyfriend, so there was no infidelity,” I corrected.

  “Yes, theoretically,” Kali agreed. “But still, I knew it would hurt you, and I should have been … more discreet … I suppose.”

  She was right. She’d hurt me on purpose … but, you know what, I’d returned the favor. We were both guilty of hurting the other and the greatest thing we could do now was to forgive each other and move on.

  I crossed the divide between us and threw my arms around her.

  “Friends, please?”

  She nodded.

  “All right. Friends again, dipwad.”

  She kissed me quickly on both cheeks then extricated herself from my embrace.

  “I have to go now, white girl,” she said. “Horace is taking me to Mexico for the weekend.”

  “You bitch,” I cried, laughing. “You only apologized cause you felt guilty about hooking up with Horace!”

  “I’ll never tell,” she said, and grinning widely, she sashayed right out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

  Leave it to Kali to get skunked and meet a man all in the same night, I thought. Amazing.

  There was another knock, and I raced to get the door, thinking that maybe Kali had forgotten to tell me something about her trip, but when I threw it open, I saw one of the bodyguards—Rat Face—in the doorway, eyes blank, the bloodied point of a sword protruding from his chest.

  “I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten about our arrangement,” came a cold voice—and then the bodyguard’s corpse slid off the sword point to reveal: Marcel, the Ender of Death, standing there, grinning at me.

  “You!” I said.

  Marcel leveled his sword in my direction. “I hope you will expedite the day and time of our duel so that I do not have to come remind you again.”

  So the little shit was a sportsman. He wanted to have our duel fair and square; no trickery and no cheating—although he hadn’t been above frightening me into getting the ball rolling.

  “’Til we meet again,” he said, giving me a terse bow. “And I hope that it’s soon. So that no more humans have to die.”

  “Tomorrow,” I said, tired of all the bullshit and feeling bad about the dead bodyguard. “We meet tomorrow. I’ll have Jarvis send you a location in the morning.”

  Marcel’s eyes flared in surprise.

  “Of course,” he said, very pleased with the turn of events.

  He bowed again, this time with an air of respect he had never shown me before.

  “Oh,” I called out after him as he sauntered toward the exit. “Don’t forget to put on a clean pair of underwear.”

  He turned around, not sure if he’d heard me correctly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, you heard me,” I said. “Put on a clean pair of underwear so that you don’t embarrass yourself when they undress you at the morgue.”

  Marcel stared at me, confusion rippling across his face—but when he finally understood what I was driving at, he started to laugh.

  “Enchanté, Death. Enchanté,” he murmured.

  And then, with a wink, he was gone.

  I had one consoling thought as I sat down on the bed, my borrowed bag at my feet, waiting for Jarvis and Runt and Daniel to return and give me hell for what I’d just done: It was nice to know that Marcel enjoyed my peculiar sense of humor—and even nicer still to think that this time … I wasn’t joking.

  I still had a lot to learn about how to be Death—and my next lesson would take place sometime, someplace tomorrow. And it wasn’t going to involve ball gowns and fancy dinners …