Death Becomes Me (Call Me Grim Book 2) (21 page)

The magazine slips out of the pistol’s grip easily. Fully loaded, as I expected.

Without Dad here, Mom has become a bit paranoid. She can’t sleep without knowing there’s a loaded gun close at hand. And her paranoia doesn’t stop there. Once she bought the guns, she insisted on teaching me how to use them. Good thing too, or I’d have no idea how to remove the bullets from this thing. I slip each bullet out of the magazine and into my hand. Better safe, than sorry, as Gran always said.

The drawer of her nightstand sticks when I try to slide it open, but after a sharp yank it comes free. I drop the bullets into the half-empty box in there and push the drawer closed again.

The gun feels heavy in my hand, deadly, even without the bullets in it. I almost wish I could transform back to my human form and slip the gun in my waistband. A shroud made of black cobwebs has literally no place to stash a gun and I hate having to carry it.

“Aaron?” Kyle calls from the bottom of the steps. “Are you coming?”

I let my eyes drift over my mother’s room one last time and sigh. The time for nostalgia is over.

“Yeah,” I yell back and float out of her room and into the hallway.

Kyle catches my eyes briefly as I make my way down the stairs, but I’m sure he doesn’t realize it. To him, my face is still a black hole. “What took you so long?”

“I couldn’t find it, at first. She moved it.” I lift the gun and turn it over in my hand. “But I found it eventually, under her bed.”

Kyle crosses his arms, his stance wide. His shirt bulges at the waist with the outline of the gun he took from on top of the hutch beside the front door. I gesture toward the obvious lump.

“Is it loaded?”

“Yeah.” Kyle’s deep brown eyes are hard, unreadable. “So, where to?”

There are tons of places in Carroll Falls where I wouldn’t mind dying: in my room surrounded by my artwork, Foster’s Ice Cream Parlor. But neither of those is practical in this situation. I don’t know what will happen once I’m dead. My body could just appear where ever I die, riddled with bullets. I’d hate for Max to find me like that or to cause a scene in the busiest place in town.

“Jumpers Bridge.”

I know the moment I say it that it’s the perfect place. Not only is it quiet and secluded, it’s beautiful. And it’s what Aaron would have said.

Kyle nods once and turns toward the front door.

“Let’s get this over with,” he says as he steps through the solid wood and disappears.

26

The roar of Carroll Falls announces Jumpers Bridge’s presence before the curved truss of the bridge appears above the tree line. Kyle’s Chucks crunch in the gravel between the railroad ties as we follow the last curve of tracks, but my feet don’t make a sound. I continue to float two feet above the ground.

Kyle stops at the entrance of the bridge and turns, facing me.

“In the middle, right?” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the center of the long bridge. Pointing to where I almost lost him and Aaron both.

My breath catches in my throat and I can’t talk. I can’t move. No matter how important it is to keep Kyle fooled and do what Aaron would do, I cannot go up on that bridge. Not again. I swallow hard and shake my head.

“No?” Kyle tilts his head curiously. “I thought you said you wanted to die on the bridge. That’s what you told me the day you showed me the Gateway for the first time.”

“I know I did,” I say, once I find my voice. Thank goodness for the guttural growl, or my voice would have definitely squeaked. “But we don’t have to push each other off anymore. We have these.” The barrel of the gun catches the sunlight as I turn it in my hand. “The meadow will be fine.”

My shadow precedes me as I float down the embankment to the grassy field beside the cliff.

“Do you think Libbi will know to come here?” Kyle twists the Scythe on his thumb and frowns down at it. “I mean, someone has to take our souls to the Gateway, right?”

“She knows. I told her in the letter.”

“And what about this?” He holds his right hand up in front of his face and points to the ring. Something dark inside the Scythe spasms and slides out of view. “Will she be able to get this off of me if I’m dead?”

I have no idea if a Scythe can be removed if the Reaper wearing it is dead, but I nod anyway. It doesn’t matter either way. Nobody’s taking the Scythe off of Kyle today. Especially not me.

“I feel her getting close. She’ll be here any minute.” I ball the shaky hand that’s not clutching the pistol into a fist to hide how terrified I am. “We need to get this over with.”

“I know.” Kyle’s fingers tremble almost as much as mine do as he wipes his hands on his jeans. “Just give me a second, okay?”

I nod as Kyle closes his eyes and runs a hand down his pale, sweaty face. He sighs heavily, shaking his head back and forth. There is nothing I want more than to tell him not to worry, that he’s not going to die today, but I can’t. And it kills me to see him like this.

“It’ll be okay, Kyle,” I say, but it sounds wrong and meaningless in this stupid growly voice. I wish so badly that I could say it with my real voice, so he could be comforted by
me
and not this demon he sees in front of him.

“I know.” He reaches under his shirt and grabs the grip of the gun hidden there. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

I lift my pistol and aim it at the center of his forehead. I know my gun is empty, but this awful scene still shocks me. I’m freaking aiming a gun at my best friend’s head. And he’s aiming one at mine. It’s a scenario I would never have thought possible, even one day ago, yet here we are.

“On the count of three.” My finger rests on the trigger and flexes slightly, pulling it back, but not enough to fire, even if the gun was loaded.

Kyle nods, his eyes trained on me.

“One.”

The barrel of Kyle’s gun is more empty and black than any Reaper’s face I’ve seen. It looks angry, deadly, and more than ready to tear a hole in my face that doesn’t belong there.

“T-two.” I barely get the word out. Oh crap. I’m about to die. Sure, I was about to die when Aaron stopped me from getting crushed by Jason’s truck, but that was different. I had no idea that was coming. When Aaron warned me I was about to die then, I thought he was crazy. But now I know what’s about to happen to me as sure as I know Kyle will live. And I’ve never been more petrified in my life.

I take a deep breath and let it out, just like my mother told me when she taught me to shoot. Not because I need to keep my aim steady, but because I need to keep still. The last thing I want is to jump out of panic and for Kyle to miss.

“Three.” I squeeze my trigger, more for show than anything else. It clicks emptily, as I knew it would. Kyle’s finger depresses his trigger, and when it does, I use my own voice to say, “Thank you.”

The deafening pop of Kyle’s gun shatters the air around me. Almost simultaneously something hot punches into my head and I fall backward.

The last thing I see before the world I’ve always known disappears from view is the green truss of Jumpers Bridge and the pale blue sky. The two colors remind me of Max’s and Aaron’s eyes.

I smile and let them go.

Dying is strange. It’s like falling and not falling. Like pain, with no pain. It’s here, but not here. Real but unreal. It’s so clear, and yet so far away. Drifting away. Floating. Farther and farther with each passing second.

For a moment I smell the clean scent of grass mixed with the mineral aroma of the river. I feel the searing pain in my head and the warmth oozing down my face. The waterfall roars.

And Kyle screams.

“Oh God, no, Libbi. No. How could you be so stupid?”

Then it’s all gone.

I’m spinning. Falling. Collapsing into myself. Getting smaller and bigger at the same time. I chuckle. How can someone simultaneously feel so many opposite things? It’s confusing and frightening, and not at all what I expected.

A hole opens up below me and I sink down into it. A warm substance envelops and squeezes me. Not in a bad way. It’s nice, like a hug from my mother.

Here I’ll wait, confident that as soon as the light of my soul blinks out completely, Kyle will use the Scythe to connect to it and pull me out of my body. And then, for better or worse, he’ll take me to the Gateway. And everything will be fixed.

27

Pain. Hot, throbbing, and sharp, and I can’t tell where it’s coming from.

Aaron once said that when a person dies, if a Reaper doesn’t remove their souls from their bodies fast enough, the pain will become unbearable. The soul will literally rip itself apart trying to escape the body it’s trapped inside of.

Is that what’s happening to me? Did Kyle refuse to remove my soul from my body after I died?

I don’t know, but the pain is getting worse the more I think about it, throbbing in my head like the crappiest migraine ever. A groan seeps from me and I turn my head. My cheek presses against something soft and fluffy.

A pillow.

My eyes snap open.

Sunlight paints stripes across my bedroom floor and illuminates my art desk in the corner. Stacks of my drawings lay haphazardly over the desktop, exactly how I left them months ago.

I’m home. How did I get home?

I try to sit up, but the movement causes my head to explode with pain, so I drop back onto my pillow and close my eyes.

“Take it easy,” a familiar voice says. Something caresses my cheek. “You have quite a gash on your head.”

I turn toward the sound of the voice and crack open my eyes. Kyle sits on the edge of my bed, his face pinched with concern.

“What happened?” My words are slower than I intend. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. “I’m not dead? I’m supposed to be dead.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not.” Kyle frowns. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asks, but he doesn’t give me the chance to reply. He continues on like he didn’t ask me a question. “You’re so damned lucky I’m a crappy shot. I could have killed you.”

“Yeah. Lucky,” I say. The dry whisper of my voice makes it hard to express my sarcasm.

“What were you thinking, Libs?” he repeats, and gently touches the top of my head. Searing pain ripples through me. I wince and he pulls back. “I’m sorry. It probably hurts like hell.”

“Yeah. Just a little bit,” I say sarcastically, and this time he gets it.

“Sorry. I’ll get you something for pain.” The rocking motion of the bed as he stands causes a wave of nausea to shoot through me. I choke it back as Kyle crosses the bedroom. The First Aid kit we usually keep in the hallway closet sits on top of my dresser. Kyle flips back the hinged lid.

“You brought me home?” Talking, even in a whisper, hurts my head. Best keep what I say short. “Why?”

“I thought you were going to d-die. I was afraid I’d… There was so much blood…” He shakes his head once, but continues to rummage through the kit. “And I couldn’t exactly take you to the hospital.” His eyes stay down, but his voice cracks as he says, “I didn’t want you to die at that stupid, creepy bridge, Libs. That was Aaron’s wish, not yours.”

My hand drifts up to the throbbing spot on the top of my head and meets a thick bandage. I let my fingers move down from the bandage to my hair, which is surprisingly clean, given all the blood Kyle said there was.

Wait a minute.

I glance down at my clothes and my gut suddenly fills with rocks. Instead of the jeans and tee shirt I was wearing when I left Chicago, I’m dressed in the fuzzy, pink, kitten pajamas Gran bought me for Christmas last year that I swore I would never, ever wear.

Oh God. While I was unconscious, Kyle undressed me, cleaned me up, and redressed me. Heat crawls up my neck and spreads to my cheeks.

Then something more important occurs to me. When did he have time to do any of it? How long have I been out?

“Kyle? What time is it?” Panic replaces the embarrassment in my gut and creeps into my voice, but I don’t think Kyle hears it. He’s still looking for the pain medicine in the First Aid kit. “How long have I been out?”

“All night…” He lifts the mini-packet of medicine and turns around. A grin of triumph lights his face. “I found it.”

“What time is it, Kyle?” I repeat.

His smile slips away and his eyebrows bunch with concern. He hears the panic in my voice now. “A little after one in the afternoon. Why?” As he says it the time pops into my head and I realize I’ve known all along. I just didn’t want to believe it.

“Shit.” I spring up into a sitting position. The gash in my head throbs with every beat of my galloping heart and it feels like my skull has been split in two, but I somehow manage to get to my feet.

I used the relaxing power on Bobby at noon yesterday. If I had enough power to knock him out for a full twenty-four hours, which I’m not entirely convinced I can do, it’s definitely over now. He’s awake. And chances are he’s run to Abaddon.

“Where’s Max?” My knees wobble, but I lock them in place.

“I think he’s downstairs with Miss Lena, but I haven’t been down there in a while. I’ve been up here with you.” Kyle fiddles with the medicine packet. I grab it out of his hands, rip it open, and swallow the pills dry. He frowns and says, “What’s going on, Libs?”

I ignore his question and ask another of my own. “Has Abaddon summoned you to the Gateway since I’ve been here?”

“No.”

The breath I’ve been holding releases slowly. “Maybe he doesn’t know, yet,” I say to myself, but Kyle crosses the distance between us and grips my shoulders.

“What doesn’t he know?” His head dips so his eyes are at my level and he fixes me with a hard stare. “What’s. Going. On, Libs? Why did you try to make me shoot you?”

I match his intense glare. “You know that Shadow thing Abaddon threatened to turn Haley into if you didn’t help him find me?” My hands clench into fists as Kyle nods. “Well, I’ve seen one. And it’s a pretty awful thing to be turned into. I couldn’t—”

“Let me guess.” Kyle’s dark eyes narrow. “You couldn’t let that happen.”

“Not if I could stop it.” My stare remains fixed as understanding settles in his features.

“Of course not.” He sighs and lets me go. “Tell me what happened. From the beginning.” The bed frame squeaks as he sits on the edge of my mattress and props his forearms on his thighs. His hands dangle between his knees. “How did all of this lead to you coming here to trick me into killing you?” He gives me a harsh look. “Which was a pretty dick move, by the way.”

“You’re right. It was shitty. I’m sorry, but I had to do it.” I crumple up the empty medicine packet and drop it in the wicker trash bin next to the dresser, then sit beside him on the edge of my bed. “The only solution was for me to die. And only you could do it. I knew you wouldn’t pull the trigger.”

“Why me? Where’s Aaron?”

“He’s in Chicago. And he’s not a Reaper anymore. He’s normal. He can’t kill me.”

I close my eyes and lean forward to rest my throbbing head in my hand then jerk back and wince when my fingers brush the bandaged wound. My hand drops to my fuzzy pink lap. I’ve got to get out of these goofy pee-jays.

“Wait. What?” Kyle sits up straight and faces me. “He’s normal?”

“Yeah. His soul’s dim now and he’s normal.” The room tilts and spins when I stand up, but quickly returns to normal. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time,” he says.

“I don’t.” I hobble to my dresser and select another pair of jeans and a red blouse. I undo the first button of my pajama top and stop. “Turn around, Kyle,” I say coolly. He may have gotten an eyeful when he cleaned me up, but that’s all he’s getting.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” He turns toward the window and places a hand over his eyes for good measure.

Reassured he’ll respect my privacy—now that I’m awake—I unbutton the pajama top, pull it off, and gasp at the sight of the blood-saturated bra underneath. Wow. He wasn’t kidding. I bled a ton. It looks like my bra went on a killing spree without me.

But what strikes me more than the amount of dried blood all over my bra is that I’m still wearing it. Relief floods me, putting out the flames of embarrassment ignited by the realization that Kyle dressed me.

“Umm, Libbi?” Kyle clears his throat. “Just so you know, I didn’t see anything.”

Kyle didn’t strip me naked to clean me up. He took my bloody shirt and jeans off, cleaned my wound and my hair, but he left my underwear on.

“I know,” I say softly. “Thank you, Kyle.”

Streaks of blood stain my chest and middle. I guess Kyle felt about as comfortable with wiping my body down as he did about taking my bra off. Thankfully. But, I can’t go out like this. Invisible or not, I have to shower.

I take the quickest shower in history, careful to keep the bandage on my head dry. As I dress, I update Kyle through the bathroom door.

The story spills out of me quickly, partly because I’m eager for him to understand why I did what I did, but mostly because time is slipping away fast, the Reaper clock cruelly reminding me of every passing second. I owe Kyle an explanation, but it needs to be a fast one. I don’t know if Bobby has tattled to Abaddon yet, but if he hasn’t, he will soon.

And I haven’t seen Max yet.