"Am I really getting a scythe? I thought that kind of grim reaper image was outdated."
My grandmother lifted a shoulder. "We only use them in the ceremony as it's traditional and a bit of fun. No one is going to make you walk down the street dressed in the formal reaper uniform unless you want to. But believe me, you don't want to-it always draws in the crazies." She twirled a finger next to her head.
My mother stuck her head around the corner of the doorway. "Everything is ready, come in."
I helped my grandmother to her feet and we entered the dining room. The curtains were shut and the room was lit only by unfamiliar black and red candles that dotted the table, their flames glowing an eerie green. My aunt and sister were already sat at the table, dressed in their own black and gray robes.
"Close the doors behind you," my mother said. "We need darkness."
"Go on." My grandmother shooed me ahead while shutting the doors.
I approached my own chair before noticing a matching robe for me draped across it. I paused as the room's natural sunlight disappeared.
Clarissa stood, gathered my robe and held it out to me. "Put this on."
My aunt lifted her glass of wine and took a long swig before immediately refilling her glass. "It's so lovely to have the whole family together one last time for such an important event."
My mother inched the rest of the bottle away from her before motioning to me. "Go on then."
I reluctantly took the garment from my sister. My fingers ran along the stitching of the gray pattern that danced across the cloth.
"Every grim reaper family has their own distinct pattern, like a family crest. Ours was decided hundred of years ago," my mother said.
After a moment's consideration, I lifted the robe over my head and let it engulf me. A cold shudder ran down my spine as the fabric slumped over my shoulders and settled against my back.
I was finally ready to embrace Death. I would be a grim reaper now, until the moment I died. Strangely, now it all made sense. My fate had always been decided. Pain, loss and mourning was what my life had been designed for. There would be no growing old, no careers, no children and no love for me. My former life disappeared when I'd opened that trunk. It was time to stop pretending I was normal.
The rest of the family picked up the candles and gathered around me while my mother carefully unwrapped a bladed tool from a blanket that resembled our robes. Holding the scythe in her hand, she approached me. My mother glanced at the others and they formed a circle around me.
"Remain still," she warned before slicing through the air either side of me. "Madison Clark, I now present you with the scythe of acceptance as a reward for collecting your tenth victim. May the great and powerful Death guide you along your path and grant you immortality along your journey."
She passed me the scythe and I examined it, taking in the dark metal blade decorated with odd shapes and the wooden handle carved with the names of generations of our reapers.
My family surrounded me and joined hands as they began to chant, "Death, prepare this girl for her journey." Their words got louder and louder with every verse until words became only shouts.
I blushed, running my fingers over the names on my scythe. Clarissa had been right-there was someone in our family named Morticia.
They all reached for and touched the handle of the scythe, repeating the phrase, "I grant you the gift of Death." A chill ran down my spine and I wanted to run away. When they reached the tenth time, the room went silent and the lights flickered back on.
"It is done," my grandmother announced.
My mother led the way back to the table. "Congratulations, Madison, you have finally mastered your powers. I wish you'd get a chance to use them again, but let's not dwell on that. I have prepared a feast in honor of your victims. Let them rest in peace."
I was led to the head of the table by my grandmother. "It's your day, honey, sit down."
No one removed their robes as we sat down, so I went with the flow hoping I wouldn't stain it. I flexed my shoulders, getting used to the weight of it. It was oddly comfortable, like a giant sweatshirt.
My mother tied her yellow daisy-covered apron over her ceremonial robe and rushed into the kitchen. I was pretty sure that was a Stepford wife no-no. She wheeled the food in on her battered serving trolley, which had been presented to her by my father one Christmas. The trolley with its dented bronze and chipped paint was at war with most of my mother's tasteful decor, but I knew she could never bear to part with it. Her fingers held the metal handle almost intimately, her eyes lowered to the floor. After a moment's pause, she removed the dishes and placed them on the table.
"I've made a special dish for each of your marked victims." After slipping on some oven mitts, she unloaded the pans: onion tartlets, deviled eggs, roast potatoes, a green bean casserole, roast pork with apples, potato salad, pigs in blankets, handmade rolls, a salad and a cherry pie. We inched our plates over the edge of the table to allow her to squeeze the last item in. She wiped her brow. "I was up early this morning preparing this. If this is your last meal, I wanted it to be special."
I dug in immediately, spooning helpings onto my plate until I realized there were ten dishes. "What's the pie for?"
"Dessert," my aunt said, taking the pan from me.
"No, I mean, why are there ten dishes? I only marked nine people."
"As I said, Madison, each dish represents one of your victims. Ten clients, ten dishes," she repeated.
"I never touched Aaron, you know that-"
"Well that is very strange because as head of the family I had confirmation earlier today that ten of your victims had been marked for Death," she explained.
"Are you trying to tell me someone else has marked Aaron? Is he in danger?" I asked, standing up from my seat.
She pulled out a printed form from her apron and frowned at it. "Paper work doesn't lie. You've had ten victims confirmed for Death." She passed me the piece of paper with a number ten next to my name.
"It's impossible, I didn't, I was so careful. I thought only I could take his soul?"
"It didn't have to be you. Any more powerful reaper can be reassigned to finish the job if it seems like you're unwilling to," Clarissa said, rubbing her neck.
My eyes scanned over my family. "Did one of you?"
My mother shook her head. "No, honey, as hard as it would be to lose you, we wouldn't."
My eyes widened. "I need to go." I pulled out my phone to find his location.
My mother grabbed my arm. "Madison, listen to me. Are you sure you want to do this? Someone has marked him, so that means the wheels of Death are already in motion. Even if you get to him, you won't be able to stop it. You'll see it happen."
I pulled away. "I told myself I wouldn't give up. You couldn't save Dad, but I still have a chance."
My phone was glued to my ear as I headed out the door without a plan or any means of stopping Aaron's inevitable death. I dialed his phone and with each ring I became more nervous.
Finally the line connected. "Where are you?"
"Hey, Mads, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, I just want to see you. I think we need to talk."
"Well, I'm on my way home now, should be there in twenty. You'll never guess who I ran into this morning at the comic book store?"
"Who?"
"Tiara Simmons. Who knew popular girls liked to read superhero comics too? I hope you don't mind, we went out for coffee to catch up. I know you two never got along in high school but she really does sound like she wants to make amends."
"Sure does." I narrowed my eyes. "It's fine, just go straight home. I'll be there soon." I hung up, pulling up the Dead Head app to track his location. I jumped into my car and jammed the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered.
"Seriously, not now!" I yelled at the car and collapsed against the steering wheel. This wasn't happening.
My phone beeped to confirm it had found Aaron. He was only five minutes away. I threw open the car door and took off running. My robe flapped in the wind behind me and my shoes slapped against the sidewalk as my arms propelled me forwards with each stride. My chest ached and my eyes watered, tears sticking to my face. I paused to catch my breath, doubling over in pain. A sharp stabbing pain took over my chest and my left arm began to tingle.
"No," I moaned, limping forwards and gripping my chest. I stumbled over a gap in the sidewalk and fell to the ground. My breath came out labored but I climbed to my feet again, wheezing and feeling light-headed as I continued forwards one step at a time. I had to get there. I didn't know how, but deep inside of me I knew I could stop Death. Something had shifted. He was afraid, desperate to stop me.
"You're going to lose," I whispered, knowing he was watching somehow. If he thought it was all over, he'd soon find out I was a force to be reckoned with.
He answered me with another stab of pain to my chest and I collapsed into the road. I saw him in front of me, Aaron, standing on the other side of the road, waiting to cross. I tried to stand, call out to him, but I was too weak.
"Madison!" he screamed, leaping into the road and running across the street.
Time slowed as a black pick-up truck headed straight for me. I tried to move but my legs were frozen in place. I was paralyzed again, like I had been with the trunk. Suddenly Aaron was there, throwing me onto the sidewalk and blocking the path of the truck. His hands touched the bare skin of my arms. I felt the shiver flow through me and Aaron's memories flashed before my eyes. No, no, no. Us as children playing on a swing set, passing notes in math class, him watching me twirl in my prom dress, his dad crying when he showed him his acceptance letter to college, our first kiss.
"Aaron, watch out!" I shrieked as the truck sped down the road.
I had never guessed I'd be the reason Aaron would die, but when he touched me I knew this is what Death had planned all along. Death was playing with me. He wanted me to watch. Aaron turned around just in time to see the truck's headlights flash before it plowed into him. He flew across the hood, smashed into the windshield and rolled across the road until he landed a few feet from me. His head cracked against the sidewalk and blood pooled around him.
"Aaron," I sputtered, feeling helpless as I watched him.
The truck didn't slow down as it drove off and disappeared into the distance. Time finally caught up. My trance was broken but I was still unable to stand so I crawled to Aaron. His eyes fluttered at me as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
I quickly tore the end of my robe and tied the cloth around a gash on his forehead. "You're going to be okay," I muttered, not believing my own words.
"Liar. I'm dying." He coughed.
I held my lips together. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to do."
His eyes scanned over me in disbelief. "Mads, are you a grim reaper?"
Tears built at the corners of my eyes as I burst out with a happy laugh. "Yeah, I am."
"Those professional mourners think of everything." He tried to smile at me but he winced instead. He wheezed, blinking quickly, each time his eyes narrowing until he closed them completely. I held my mouth as I turned away from him and focused on a clean piece of sidewalk. I was too late.
I shivered violently, rocking against the sidewalk. The pain eating away at me got the best of me and I lay down next to him. My insides felt like they were burning and I wiggled on the ground unable to stop it. Holding my stomach with one hand, I pulled out my phone with the other.
I grunted through the pain into the receiver, "Send an ambulance please."
Dropping my phone, I reached for Aaron's hand and squeezed it. "You're not allowed to leave me."
His eyes opened again and they drifted to me. "You either," he answered as we both heard sirens in the distance.
Chapter 26.
I spent the rest of the day in the hospital. My mysterious pain had started to subside as soon as I was loaded into the ambulance. At the hospital, I was examined but the doctor's couldn't find anything wrong with me other than my strange choice of wardrobe. The nurses were convinced I had been on my way to a costume party, so I didn't correct them. I was normal again, with a heartbeat and pulse.
Aaron hadn't been so lucky. He had been rushed off to surgery to treat his multiple injures and internal bleeding, but the doctor's assured me he would live. I felt different, like me again. That's how I knew we had been successful. I had defeated Death at his sick game. It was over. I was no longer a reaper and Aaron was going to live.
After hours of surgery, Aaron was wheeled out with a broken leg, stitches in his skull and in a medically induced coma. I waited in his room, nervous about how much he would remember about the accident.
My mother leaned against the hospital room door. "Any change?"
I shook my head, putting down the latest issue of Skye Hawke. "They're hopeful he'll wake up today but the trauma could keep him asleep longer than normal."
She held my face. "You look so different."
I touched my chest, feeling movement inside. "It's weird. I had gotten used to it not beating anymore."
She hugged me, resting her chin on my head. "I'm just glad to have you safe." She glanced at Aaron. "I'm glad that both of you are safe. In all honesty, I wasn't prepared to lose another member of the family."
I leaned back in my chair. "Death nearly got both of us. I think that was his plan all along, but he didn't expect me to be walking around in my uniform." I patted the family robes folded on the table.
"Your robes saved you?"
"Yeah, I guess they did. When I crawled over to help Aaron, he asked me if I was dressed as a grim reaper," I explained.
My mother's face softened. I knew she wished she had realized the answer to saving my father had been so simple. "You'll have to be more cautious now. You're mortal again and Death will be upset about missing his quota."
"Let him be, it's about time we started winning anyway."
"Madison?" Aaron asked, his pupils wide and alert as he watched me from his hospital bed.
"I'll leave you two alone," my mother said, retreating from the room.
He coughed and winced, reaching for his side. "Where am I?"
"You're in the hospital. You were in an accident. Don't try to move too much," I explained, pouring him a glass of water.
"What happened?" He ran a hand over the bandage on his forehead.
I sucked on my lip before saying, "You were hit by a pick-up truck."
"Yeah, the truck, I remember that much-and that you were there," he said. He took a drink. "I remember I thought you were hurt."
I shook my head, my eyes cloudy. "I'm fine, don't worry about me. You're the one in the hospital."
He took another long sip of water. "When I saw you hurt, I was worried that I might not get to tell you I lied."
"You lied? About what?"
"I didn't invite Becca over for a date. I invited her over to find out what was going on with you, why we had broken up. When I saw it made you jealous, I went along with it, but nothing happened, I promise," he said.
I crossed my arms over my chest. "We just needed a break, really, but when I saw what you did-"