Death Becomes Me (Call Me Grim Book 2) (3 page)

“Uh, sorry about that.” The kid rubs the back of his neck. “Can’t you keep that between us?”

Aaron shrugs and his hand drops to the table. The boy’s eyes drift over the indentation on Aaron’s thumb where a silver ring used to be. He glances my way, but my right hand is hidden under the table.

“You’re Reapers like me, huh?” His lips press into a skeptical line. “Let’s see your Scythe, then.”

“I took it off—” Aaron speaks too quickly. The boy’s eyes narrow.

“Baloney. If you were Reapers, you wouldn’t be able to get the damned thing off.” The boy tugs on his own ring for effect. It doesn’t budge. “See? So, what are you really, and why are you here?”

“Aaron already told you what we are. We’re Reapers,” I say. Maybe he’ll believe me, though I doubt it. “He doesn’t have his Scythe, but we’re still Reapers. And Abaddon sent us.”

“Oh yeah?” The hard edge in his voice softens when he looks at me. Then his eyes train on Aaron again and he barks, “Prove it.”

“It’s eight-thirty-two and twenty-seven seconds,” I say.

“It’ll take more than the exact time to convince me, sweetheart.” The boy sneers. “They have apps for that now.”

“Okay. Watch this.” Aaron smacks his arm down on the table in front of him and yanks up the sleeve. The skin of his hand shrivels like shrink wrap over his bones. It turns pale, then gray with spots of rot, then dry and leathery. Bits of white bone poke through the breaks in his brittle flesh as Aaron flexes his skeletal fingers.

The guy looks up from Aaron’s Reaper-hand to his normal face, stunned. He’s convinced, but Aaron’s not about to let him have any doubt at all. He tilts his head back toward his hand in an ‘I’m-not-quite-done’ gesture. The boy looks back down and Aaron pushes his arm through the tabletop up to his elbow and smirks.

“Do you believe us now?” Aaron’s deep, Reaper-voice rumbles from his throat and a chill stands my hair on end.

“Well, I’ll be god-damned,” the Millersville Reaper says through a toothy grin. Then his eyebrows scrunch together and his grin is replaced with another skeptical scowl. “How? I’ve never heard of Abaddon sending Reapers to other territories to do his dirty work. And believe me, he’s had plenty of reasons to check up on me over the years.”

My lips part, but that’s as far as I get. I have no answer to his question, so I look to Aaron. He lifts his shoulders and says, “Who knows why Abaddon does the things he does?”

The Millersville Reaper crosses his arms over his chest. “The fact is, pal, Reaper or not, I don’t believe Abaddon sent you. Something ain’t right here. And I can almost guarantee Abaddon ain’t a part of it.” His voice lowers and he leans down. “I’m on your side. I promise. So, tell me the truth. How did you get free and what are you doing here?”

Aaron glances at me and I give him a half shrug. We’re cornered. What else can we say but the truth?

“Having breakfast,” Aaron says simply as he pulls his arm out of the table and flexes his normal fingers. He nods in my direction. “With my girlfriend.”

My heart jumps up and fights for room with my tonsils. His girlfriend? I knew, given the heavy make-out session in the alley this morning, that we were way past student and teacher, but this is the first time either of us said it out loud. If I wasn’t so nervous, I’d laugh.

“And who might you be?” The guy hooks his thumbs in his pockets and his dark eyes narrow in on me.

“I’m Libbi,” I say, though it’s hard. My heart is still using my uvula as a punching bag.

His gaze slides down my body and pauses at my chest for a moment before he finds my eyes again. I have a sudden desire to scrub every inch of my skin with a pumice stone.

“Libbi, huh?” The Millersville Reaper grabs my hand off the table like he’s about to shake it, but instead he pulls it to his mouth and kisses the back. His lips linger way too long.

Aaron shifts in his seat.

“
Enchanté
, Libbi. I’m Bobby,” he says with a crooked smile, once he finally lets me go. He’s lucky Aaron just shocked me with the whole ‘girlfriend’ thing or he’d be wearing my knuckles as braces.

He grabs a chair from the table behind him, drags it to the end of our table and plops down on it backwards. He folds his arms over the back rest and studies us.

“So, a free Reaper with a girl?” Bobby claps Aaron on the shoulder. “How did you manage that one?” He leans forward with interest, then his eyes widen and he shakes his head like he’s just remembered something important. “What am I saying? How the hell are you even here? How did you get the Scythe off and get out of your territory?”

Waitress Deb strides up to the table balancing a tray in one hand. She places our food and more coffee in front of us and her tray slices through Bobby’s head. Not that he notices. His mouth hangs obnoxiously open and his eyes bulge with astonishment.

“I’m so sorry,” Waitress Deb says. “I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing this chair over here. Sometimes my mind wanders.” She reaches through Bobby’s chest and grabs the back of the chair he’s sitting on. “I’ll take it back—”

“No!” Aaron and I say together.

She stops and her lips bow in a confused frown.

“We can use it,” I say quickly.

“Oh. Okay.” Deb lets go of the chair, shrugs, and walks away.

“And that? How did you do that?” Bobby gestures to Deb’s back as she walks away. “She can see you. She talked to you.”

Aaron answers with a lift of his shoulder, like Bobby just asked how he folded the origami crane on the table between us.

“Oh man.” Bobby’s eyes move from Aaron to me and then back to Aaron. “Man, oh man. I think I get it.” He touches his temple like his head just exploded in a migraine. “Libbi’s your apprentice, isn’t she? You’re using every apprentice’s ability to be seen by the living.” He looks at me. “Or is it the other way around? Is he your apprentice? Do you have the Scythe?”

“No.” I shake my head, letting my fingers trace over the spot on my thumb where the Scythe would be, if Kyle wasn’t wearing it. “I was Aaron’s apprentice.”

Aaron takes a bite of toast and chews slowly as he pushes his eggs around his plate with his fork.

“That’s just … Wow.” Bobby shakes his head. “That’s one stupid move, pal, falling for your apprentice. Are you insane?”

“Probably.”

“How did you do it?”

Aaron glances at me, a warning in his eyes, and drops his fork. It clinks against the plate. “It’s a long story and I doubt you’d believe it if we told you. We’ll just finish our breakfast and be on our way. Okay? You can pretend you never saw us.”

“I don’t need your whole life story. I just want to know how you escaped, is all.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Listen.” Bobby spreads his hands out on the table in front of him, like he’s the CEO of our little breakfast club. “Abaddon ain’t so thrilled with me lately. And I bet he ain’t so thrilled with you either. And here you two show up in
my
diner, smack dab in the middle of
my
territory, at what could quite possibly be the worst time for me. As much as I’d like to, I can’t just pretend I ain’t never seen you. So…” Bobby grabs a piece of bacon off Aaron’s plate and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. It crunches between his too-white teeth. “Unless you two want me to ask Abaddon to sort this all out himself—which something tells me you don’t—as Ricky Ricardo used to say, you got some ‘splaining to do. Don’t you think?”

I look to Aaron, but Aaron keeps focused on Bobby. Bobby’s eyes glimmer as his grin stretches his face.

“All right,” Aaron finally says. “I’ll tell you how we got out. If you keep your mouth shut.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“Cross my heart, and hope to die.” Bobby sits up straight and drags his finger over his heart in the shape of an X. “Who knows? Maybe I can help you two.”

Aaron nods in satisfaction and his shoulders relax for the first time since Bobby stormed into the diner. I’m not so convinced. There’s something about the glint of excitement in Bobby’s eyes. He seems a touch too eager. But I guess I would be too, if I was in his shoes. I’m probably being paranoid.

3

It’s hard for Aaron to ignore his breakfast and tell our story. He glances at his food longingly, swallows, and nudges his eggs with his fork while he talks. I try to take over so he can eat, but he shakes his head and looks pointedly at my plate, his eyes clearly telling me to shut-up and eat. So I do.

Aaron tells Bobby how he chose me to take over for him as Carroll Fall’s Reaper. He leaves out his reason for doing all of it, which was to use the apprentice’s ability to communicate with the living to talk his sister out of killing herself. But he does tell him how we unexpectedly and inconveniently grew closer, and how I refused to kill him when I learned I was supposed to. Then he details his and Kyle’s desperate attempts to convince me that killing him was the best thing. He even tells Bobby about Kyle’s panicked kidnapping of my brother, Max. He ends with Kyle accepting the Scythe and taking over as the Carroll Fall’s Reaper so we could escape.

Once he finishes talking, Aaron shovels two huge forkfuls of eggs into his mouth. The eggs have to be cold by now, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He takes two more bites before Bobby’s lips become unglued.

“So, you managed to find an impossible loophole,” Bobby says with an awed whisper. His eyes are so wide I can see white all the way around his dark brown irises. “And now you’re both on the run … From Abaddon.”

“Yeah,” I say, since Aaron’s mouth is full. “That about sums it up.”

“You are my heroes.” He shakes his head slowly. “And, without question, the bat-shit craziest people I have ever met.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m impressed.”

Aaron shrugs as he takes another bite of his breakfast, but I challenge Bobby’s steady gaze.

“Well, hot damn.” He smacks his knee. “A few years ago, I caught wind of a Reaper who managed to escape his territory, but I thought it was a load of bull. Thought it was impossible. Yet here you are.”

“Wait,” Aaron says through his mouthful of food. “Someone else escaped?”

“If the rumors were true, yeah.” Bobby nods and rubs his hands up and down his thighs, like he’s so excited he can’t keep still. “Heard he made quite a life for himself.”

“Where was this?” Aaron asks like he’s only mildly interested. He takes a bite of his pancakes and I pray I’m the only one who noticed his fork tremble.

“Some big city in the Midwest. Do you mind?” Bobby reaches across the table and snatches a triangle of toast off my plate before I can answer. “Chicago, maybe? Tons of Reapers out there. Lots of places to hide.”

“How did he get away?” I say.

“Don’t know.” Bobby’s eyes twinkle as he shoves the whole thing in his mouth. “Like I said, I thought it was a myth. I can’t hardly believe you two are sitting here, and I’m looking right at you.” His eyes widen and he grasps the back of his neck. “Oh boy. And I thought Abaddon was mad at
me
.”

“So, what’d
you
do to piss him off?” I say as Aaron wipes his mouth with his napkin and drops it beside his empty plate.

“Which time?” Bobby gives me a smug grin. “Most recently, I drank one too many—if you know what I mean—and missed a death.” Bobby absently picks at a piece of dead skin on his thumb. “Or two.”

“You did what?” Aaron’s fists clench on the tabletop.

“Oh, give me a break, pal. It was my one hundredth birthday. I wanted to celebrate.” Bobby rolls his eyes. “And, look who’s calling the kettle black. You left your post completely.”

“
I
left another Reaper in my place,” Aaron says, but I can see the guilt and defeat fall over his face like a veil, even if his voice is strong and sure. “You just let those poor souls, those
people
, disintegrate into nothing. For what? A few shots of whiskey?”

“Cognac, actually. Only the finest, my friend,” Bobby says with pride. “And, boy oh boy, was Abaddon mad. I’d show you the effects of one of my punishments …” He glances my way with a bit too much humor in his eyes. “But I’d hate to offend present company.”

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes, barely hiding my contempt.

“Well, if you insist …” Bobby moves to stand, reaching for the fly of his pants.

Aaron’s hand darts out and he seizes Bobby’s wrist. Fury settles on his face and I can almost feel the air thicken with tension. “I swear to God, if you so much as—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, tiger.” Bobby wrenches out of Aaron’s grasp and scoots back in his chair. He raises his hands in front of his chest, the picture of innocence. “I was only joshing her. I never meant to offend. I mean…I’m a gentleman.”

“Right,” I say under my breath as I recall his eyes lingering on my chest earlier. “Sure you are.”

Bobby looks down at the tabletop as a rosy hue creeps across his freckled cheeks. “My apologies, young lady. I don’t get to talk to pretty girls much.”

“Whatever,” I say. It’s not worth getting all bent out of shape over.

A sarcastic puff of air leaves Aaron’s mouth, but his fists relax.

“Well, as fascinating as this has been,” Aaron says with a hint of annoyance. “We really need to get some rest.” He barely stifles a yawn. “Is there a hotel or something in town where we could catch a nap? We’ve been running all night and we’re exhausted.”

“Oh, yeah. You two
do
look beat.” Bobby stands. He scoots the chair back to the table he stole it from and hitches his jeans up over his narrow hips. “I have a place. It’s not much, but if you want, you can lie down there for a few hours.”

“Oh, no. We can’t do that,” I say quickly, wishing with every ounce of my being that Aaron had just kept his mouth shut.

“I insist.” Bobby tilts his head. “It’s the least I can do after I was so rude. But, after a short nap, you’ll have to go. I can’t risk Abaddon finding you there. He’d do worse than murder me.”

I catch Aaron’s eyes and try to convey to him how very uncomfortable I am with this idea, but he doesn’t seem to get it.

“That would be perfect,” he says through another yawn. “We only need an hour or two of rest anyway.”

“Great.” Bobby smiles.

***

The pungent scent of dust and mothballs crawls up my nose when Bobby opens the attic door. I sneeze and he gives me a sympathetic look over his shoulder.

“Sorry. It’s a bit dusty,” Bobby says as he leads us up the narrow, creaky stairs. “I used to have my own room downstairs, but my grand-niece decided to have a brood of rugrats. After kid number five, I moved up here.”

It’s so strange to hear this boy talk about having grand-anything. Other than the saddle shoes and the way he keeps his dark hair slicked and parted on the side, he looks like he could be one of Kyle’s band-mates.

The hardwood floor of the massive attic stretches the whole length of the house, though I can’t see much of it. The floor is covered, stuffed with tilted stacks of boxes, Christmas decorations, broken furniture, and other miscellaneous junk. A well-worn path snakes down the center of it all.

Dust particles drift in a beam of light that spills through a small, circular window at the end of the attic. Across from the window is a full-sized bed.

“It’s not much, but it’s what I have.” Bobby plops down on the edge of the bed and runs his hands over the multicolored patchwork quilt. “At least you know you won’t be bothered. The attic gives the family the heebie-jeebies.” He winks. “That probably has a little something to do with me.”

“It’s fine.” Aaron grasps my hand. “Thanks.”

“Hey, no sweat. It’s all yours.” Bobby jumps up as quickly as he sat down. “Listen, I have to split. A Reaper’s work is never done, you know.” He scratches the back of his head. A shiny lock of hair stands up in the back. “Help yourself to the shower. The bedroom at the bottom of the stairs belongs to my great-grandniece. She’s about your size, Libbi, if you want to take a look in her closet. Aaron, feel free to take something of mine, if you’d like.”

“Thanks,” Aaron and I say together.

“You’re welcome.” Bobby smiles a tight, awkward smile. He smooths the stray hair on the back of his head down, then slips his hands in his pockets and says, “Sorry again for being a bit of a jerk at the diner.” He looks pointedly at me and I feel my cheeks tingle with a blush.

“It’s fine,” I say. What else can I say?

“Well, sweet dreams, then.” He disappears behind a tower of dusty boxes. A few seconds later, the door at the bottom of the attic stairs clicks closed.

Aaron kicks his shoes off and climbs into the bed. The bedsprings squeak as he stretches out on top of the quilt. He reaches behind his head, fluffs the pillow, and sinks back into it. His eyelids slip closed.

I scan the clearing in the junk that Bobby calls his bedroom. It’s clean, but small and sparse. The tiny space consists of the full-sized bed, a chair, and an antique dresser with an old, hand-carved clock and a mirror on it. And that’s it.

I eye the chair. The wooden seat looks like it was made to keep people awake, with oddly shaped spokes that run up the back. It looks like a torture device. There is no way I can sleep on that thing. There’s not even a cushion on the seat. And the dusty, splintered attic floor doesn’t look much better.

My insides jitter. Should I get in bed with Aaron? I’m sure he won’t mind, but I’m not sure if I should get in bed with the boy I want to spend way too much of my time kissing. We’ll never sleep.

And what could all of that kissing in a bed lead to? I mean, he just called me his girlfriend for the first time, like, an hour ago. I’m not sure if I’m ready for
that
, yet.

In the alley this morning, all I wanted was to kiss Aaron, or maybe a little something more, but not now. Last year, when Haley hooked up with Mike, I was so jealous I ended up making out with Kyle. It was a stupid mistake, since now I know Kyle’s had a thing for me since the second grade and I can’t make myself see him as more than a friend. But with the possibility of my own hook-up with a guy that I really like literally lying on the bed in front of me, I’m not so sure. And I’m too exhausted to work through my feelings.

Aaron’s eyes crack open and he looks at me through his dark lashes. My heart does a little dance. God, he’s hot. He frowns and his heavy lids droop like it’s taking a lot of effort to keep them up.

“You coming?” He pats the bed beside him and then grasps his hands behind his neck. His shirt rides up a bit, revealing a stripe of his scarred skin and toned abs. I remember the first time I saw those scars and how much they worried me. I remember the heat of his puckered skin under my fingertips as I traced them slowly down his body.

My face flushes.

“Um,” I say. It’s all I can say. The look on my face must be the exact opposite of chill because Aaron laughs.

“Don’t worry, Libbi. I just want to sleep,” he says. “I’ll stay on top of the covers and you can sleep under them, or vice versa, if that makes you feel better.” He pats the mattress again. “Come on. You’ve got to sleep.”

“Fine.” I nudge my shoes off with my toes. “But I’m not getting in bed with you if you don’t pull your shirt down.”

Aaron laughs again, but he does as he’s told. He yanks his shirt down and crosses his arms over his chest.

I climb into the bed next to him, making sure to keep a good foot of space between us, but I don’t get under the blankets. The room is too hot and there’s something a little unnerving about lying in Bobby’s bed. Whether he apologized or not, he’s acted creeperish toward me ever since we met and I hate him knowing I slept here at all. Sleeping above the covers might help a little.

Aaron lifts his arm, inviting me to snuggle up next to him.

I give him a skeptical frown.

“Really, Libbi, this bed is too small. If you insist on sleeping on the edge, you’ll fall off.” He lifts an eyebrow and smirks. “And as much as I’d love to do more someday, right now I just want to hold you. We don’t even have to kiss. Okay?”

I scoot across the bed and lay my head on his shoulder. His hand drops to my hip and he pulls me close. I rest my hand on his chest and feel his heart thump, thump, thump under my palm. My body curls into his like we are two pieces of a puzzle, like we were made to fit this way.

“So …” I draw a circle on his chest with my index finger. “I’m your girlfriend, now?”

“Well, yeah,” Aaron says and I half expect him to add ‘duh,’ but he doesn’t. He suddenly lifts his head and looks at me, his eyes wide and his forehead creased with concern. “I mean, I want you to be, if you want to be.” He bites his bottom lip as his eyes search mine. They seem so deep and blue under his worried brow. “What I mean to say is, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“Well, yeah,” I say with the same casualness he used on me a minute ago. I even roll my eyes for effect.

The worry drains from him and a huge smile spreads sunshine across his face. I can’t help but beam back at him. He’s so damned cute when he smiles like that.

“That’s settled, then. You’re my girlfriend and I’m your boyfriend.” He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it softly.

It’s a nice gesture, but it doesn’t seem, I don’t know, good enough. I mean, come on. We just officially became boyfriend and girlfriend. This calls for more than a nice kiss on the back of the hand.