GUARDED BY THE REAPER

Copyright © 2024 by Cara Wylde

All rights are reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One – Grim

Chapter Two – Millie

Chapter Three – Grim

Chapter Four – Millie

Chapter Five – Grim

Chapter Six – Millie

Chapter Seven – Grim

Chapter Eight – Millie

Chapter Nine – Grim

Chapter Ten – Millie

Chapter Eleven – Grim

Chapter Twelve – Millie

Chapter Thirteen – Grim

Chapter Fourteen – Millie

Chapter Fifteen – Grim

Chapter Sixteen – Millie

Chapter Seventeen – Grim

Chapter Eighteen – Millie

Chapter Nineteen – Grim

Chapter Twenty – Millie

Chapter Twenty-One – Grim

Chapter Twenty-Two – Millie

Chapter Twenty-Three – Grim

Chapter Twenty-Four – Millie

Chapter Twenty-Five – Grim

Chapter Twenty-Six – Millie

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Grim

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Millie

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Grim

Chapter Thirty – Millie

Chapter Thirty-One – Grim

Chapter Thirty-Two – Millie

Chapter Thirty-Three – Grim

Chapter Thirty-Four – Millie

Chapter Thirty-Five – Grim

Chapter Thirty-Six – Millie

Chapter Thirty-Seven – Grim

Chapter Thirty-Eight – Millie

Epilogue – Grim

Epilogue – Millie

Monster Security Agency

About the Author

Chapter One

Grim

The floorboards creaked under my boots as I stopped in the doorway of Norman’s office at the Monster Security Agency branch in Seattle. The scent of lemon air freshener assaulted my senses. It was always pristine in here, the kind of cleanliness that screamed it was more for show than actual use.

Norman was my handler, and he was currently hunched over paperwork, his comb-over gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. He waved me in absentmindedly, a practiced smile plastered on his face. I already knew whatever job he had lined up for me was going to be a pain in my ass, and given the second thoughts I’d been having lately, I was going to refuse it and instead discuss with him how I might want to quit the MSA.

“Well?” I prompted him.

He sensed my sour mood, because he shook his head and went straight to the point.

“Before you argue with me, I just want to say this job is no big deal, even if it pays like it is. It’s just fourteen days,” he said from behind the monstrosity of an oak desk he used as a shield between himself and the rest of the world.

I hated the way Norman kept this office – disgustingly perfect, like a showroom no one was allowed to touch. It reeked of lies. Which suited him too well. He was a man who’d divorced his wife when she got sick. It made my non-existent stomach turn. But Norman liked his life in black and white, saw everything as simple equations, and when things got complicated – which a sick wife most certainly was, a complication – he chose to subtract them out of his life. Just like that, like removing an unsightly stain.

“Fourteen days, Grim. Easy peasy,” Norman repeated, drawing out the vowels. He finally set the pen down and clasped his hands on the surface of the desk. “So, what do you say? You want to keep a pretty little thing safe for two weeks? The client is Camellia Aster. Yes, she’s one of those Asters.”

I had no idea what he was talking about and who the Asters were, so I suppressed the urge to scoff. I didn’t say anything. Didn’t move a muscle, just stood there, my boots a steady presence on the fluffy Persian rug that looked like it had never been walked on. I’d always wondered, why bother with a rug if you wouldn’t let anyone walk on it? Norman was full of such nonsensical displays of abundance – things meant to impress, but missing the point entirely.

“Grim?” he prompted, his voice laced with a touch of annoyance. “Cat got your tongue?”

Humans and their figures of speech. I had a feeling if a cat got my tongue, Norman would clutch his pearls and faint. And that would make two of us, because the day I let a furry creature get close to me was the day I’d let Norman cut my cloak to pieces and sell it as souvenirs.

I watched him watching me and fought back another sigh. Even eternity had its limits. Mine were wearing thin. This whole bodyguard gig, once a defiant middle finger to Death and their soul-reaping monotony, had lost its charm somewhere between protecting a politician who’d sold his soul, literally, for a second term, and a pop star whose idea of a threat was a pimple on the day of a music video shoot. How pathetic were the things humans clung to, the power they craved, the fleeting moments of what they called “fame”... It was laughable. And exhausting.

“No, Normal,” I said flatly, the nickname slipping out before I could stop it. I always made sure it sounded unintentional. “The cat hasn’t gotten my tongue.”

Norman’s brow furrowed, but he let it pass. He usually did, mostly because he thought I was calling him “Normal” or “Normie” by mistake.

“Then humor me,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “What’s got you all twisted up?”

Oh, where to even begin? The never-ending parade of human folly? The utter futility of it all? Or maybe the fact that after a century, I was starting to feel… nothing. Not the sharp bite of cynicism, not the flicker of anger, just a vast, echoing emptiness. I was a reaper who no longer wanted to reap, but who also didn’t want to do this. I was adrift.

He cleared his throat. “Look, Grim, all you need to know is she’s loaded, scared, and needs someone like you. Someone… discreet.”

“Discreet.”

“Yes, discreet,” he insisted. “See, Ms. Aster, well, she’s dealing with something… unusual.” He paused, shuffled some papers on his desk, like he was buying time for a big reveal.

As if I cared about any of this. I should’ve just left, flown right out the window and never looked back. Problem was… I didn’t know where else to go.

“Unusual how, Normie?”

Another wince from him at the nickname. Good. He cleared his throat again, then pushed a piece of paper towards me.

“She made a sketch of what’s been bothering her.”

I stepped closer to his desk, the heel of my scythe dragging behind me, leaving a deep mark on the plush carpet. I stretched my bony hand out from inside the long, wide sleeve of my cloak and gripped the piece of paper between sharp fingertips.

The sketch was of a creature – a grotesque mockery of a child’s doll, except full-sized. Slender limbs made of twisted branches, a head roughly molded from clay, the hollow sockets where eyes should’ve been filled with a chilling darkness. And the straws. Everywhere, woven into the clay, jutting out at odd angles, like brittle bones pushing through decaying flesh. The creature was crude, almost childish, but there was something about its simplicity that made my skin crawl. A deep, primal fear, the kind that echoed with the memory of a thousand nightmares, vibrated down my spine.

I shoved the paper back across the desk. “Not interested.”

Norman just sat there, his gaze steady, a smug smile on his lips. He knew I’d reacted. He always enjoyed making me react.

“This thing… it’s been leaving gifts,” he said.

“Gifts.”

He nodded, eyes gleaming. “Dead animals. Arranged in patterns. Ritualistic.”

My grip tightened on the scythe. Dead animals. There was only one… No. I wouldn’t think about her, not here, not now.

“Two weeks, Grim,” Norman pressed. “Fourteen days to babysit a scared little rich girl, and then you’re free. Big fat bonus at the end, think of what you could do with that.”

“Think of what I could do with that?” I echoed.

It was almost funny, the way these humans thought money could fix anything, buy them anything, even time. Money couldn’t buy back his wife’s health, could it? Money couldn’t change the fact that he was a soulless husk of a man who’d traded love for comfort.

“Yeah,” he said, oblivious to the turmoil churning inside me. “Think about it.” He gestured towards the door. “She’s waiting in the conference room down the hall. Maybe you two can work something out.”

The thought of talking to her, the one who’d summoned that… thing, sent a shiver down my spine. There was no way I was going to do it.

“I’m not going to talk to her,” I said. “Find yourself another bodyguard.”

He sighed. “You haven’t even met her, Grim. Give the woman a chance. Fourteen days, that’s all she needs.”

Pity, I thought. He was asking me to babysit a dead woman walking because... what? She could pay? Pathetic. I turned towards the door, scythe bumping against the doorframe.

“Suit yourself then, Grim,” Norman said. “But you’ll regret this.”

I didn’t bother answering him. Regret was for the living.

The door slammed shut with a resounding boom, shaking the framed diplomas on his walls. I stalked down the hallway and towards the stairwell that led to the roof.

The MSA building was all glass and steel, a monument to human arrogance. I hated it. Hated the way the sunlight glinted off the polished floors, the sterile silence broken only by the click of heels and the muffled drone of conversations that meant nothing. I made my way to the roof access door, my boots thudding against the concrete stairs. The roof was my escape, the only place I felt even remotely at peace in this concrete jungle.

The door swung open with a groan, and a blast of cold air hit me, carrying with it the scent of rain and the faint, metallic tang of the city below. The sky was a bruised purple, heavy with unshed rain, and the wind whipped at my cloak, tugging at the darkness that clung to me like a shroud. It was a good day to fly. Maybe a good day to disappear.

I walked briskly towards the edge of the roof, my boots crunching on the gravel, spread my arms, feeling the wind pulling at my cloak, lifting me.

“Wait!”

A hand grabbed the hem of my cloak, and it was as if the fabric was an extension of my body, because I felt the intruder’s fingers dig into it and pull. I froze, a jolt of surprise, of something akin to fear, shooting through me.

My cloak shifted, began to slip down my back, exposing the raw flesh and bone beneath. Panic flared, hot and bright, for the briefest of moments, but I tamped it down, forcing myself to remain still. I’d spent decades mastering the art of stillness, of blending into the shadows, and I wouldn’t let some… some what?

Who dared to approach me like this? Invade my personal space, grab me like I was... like I was...

Whoever it was, they pulled at my cloak again, and this time... it truly slipped off.

Slowly, I turned.

Chapter Two

Millie

I couldn’t believe I just did that.

Chased after a Grim Reaper, of all monsters.

My heart hammered against my ribs. My mother had always said it was never good to act rashly – “think before you leap.” I should’ve listened. But then, if I’d stopped to think, I never would’ve run after him.

What had I been thinking? Or rather, what part of my brain – the one that usually whispered sensible suggestions like, “use the proper fork” and “don’t wear white after Labor Day” – had taken a sudden leave of absence? Because yanking the cloak off a creature who looked like he’d walked straight out of a nightmare was most definitely not in my wheelhouse.

Even without the cloak, he was imposing. Taller than I’d expected, maybe six-foot-four or five, all lean muscle and bone. His exposed skeleton, a macabre mosaic, was in parts covered by patches of marred flesh. It was as if someone had taken a blowtorch to him and then tried to put him back together with melted wax. The thought made me nauseous.

And his eyes. Or rather, where his eyes should’ve been. Just two black pits, like holes punched into reality. I hadn’t noticed them when I saw him leave his handler’s office, not with the hood casting shadows over his face.

Minutes ago, I’d walked out of the conference room, my heart heavy in my chest. I hadn’t realized just how much hope I’d placed on this meeting, on the possibility that this creature, this Grim Reaper, might actually be able to help me. And then I saw him storming out of his handler’s office, slamming the door shut, his cloak billowing behind him. A second after, Norman walked out and studied his door for damage, then saw me and gave me this helpless shrug, his face a mixture of pity and something that looked suspiciously like relief. And I just... snapped.

Without thinking, I ran after the reaper. Followed him down the hallway, ignoring the startled gasps and whispered comments. The elevator seemed to take forever, so I took the stairs. They led to the roof access door. I didn’t even hesitate. I just pushed through the door and there he was, standing at the edge of the building, his back to me, the wind whipping at his cloak. Without thinking, I grabbed him.

I let go of his cloak the second I realized what I’d done. It slipped from my grasp, he pulled it back over him and whirled around. Our eyes met. And really, that was what stopped the scream from escaping my throat. It was the flicker of something startled – human – in those endless depths that made me realize he wasn’t just a monster.

He was something else. Something far more ancient and terrible than anything I could’ve imagined.

“Who are you?” His voice was a dry rasp. And there was steel underneath, a cold fury that sent a shiver through me. “What do you want?”

I took a step back, my hand flying to my mouth. “I… I’m Camellia Aster,” I stammered. “You… you need to help me.”

“Help you?” He laughed, a humorless sound that echoed across the rooftop. “You lied to my handler, Ms. Aster. You hid things from him, which means you hid things from me.”

“I… I didn’t mean to lie,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. I clutched my purse tighter, suddenly feeling the need to pull my phone out.

For some reason, having my phone in my hand always made me feel better. Why? Maybe because if I found myself in a difficult situation and I felt threatened, I could film everything. It was a stupid thought, especially given the circumstances. It would’ve been a bad idea to start digging for my phone now. But then again, this whole day had just been one bad decision after another.

His gaze pinned me in place. “Why are you really here, Ms. Aster? Why did you follow me?”

I took a deep breath. There was no point in holding back now.

“I… I made a deal with Ma-Vasha,” I confessed. The words felt wrong, dirty, even though I’d said them a million times in my head, practiced them until they’d lost all meaning. But saying them out loud, to this… this terrifying creature… It changed everything.

His jaw tightened. “Don’t speak the name of that wretched soul-eating creature.”

“But…”

“Don’t,” he growled, and the shadows around him seemed to deepen.

My pulse quickened.

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to still the trembling in my hands. “It’s just that… She promised to… to save my sister.”

My sister. My sweet Elysia. Her laugh was the only thing that had kept me tethered to this world after our parents died in a car crash. And this creature – this Ma-Vasha… She’d promised to keep Elysia safe. And she had. My sister’s leukemia, which had been in remission, had come back with a vengeance a few months after our parents were gone. And the doctors just kept shaking their heads, uttering platitudes about “quality of life” and “making her comfortable.” As if comfort was a worthy substitute for a life barely lived.

“Stop.” The word was a low growl, barely audible above the howling wind. “Don’t say her name, either.”

He was closer now, his presence radiating a bone-chilling cold that seemed to seep into my clothes, my skin, my very bones. I wanted to pull away, to run back to the safe, sterile silence of the MSA halls below, but my feet were glued to the spot.

“Elysia,” I stammered. “She’s all I have left.”

He turned away then, stalked across the rooftop, his movements stiff and jerky. The scythe dragged behind him, making a scraping noise against the gravel. Its silver blade glowed and pulsed with a faint, inner light. My fingers itched for my phone again. What wouldn’t I give for a picture of this monster. To show people he wasn’t just a child’s fairy tale, a figment of our collective imagination. He was real.

Even with that hideous cloak hiding most of him, he was terrifying. More inhuman than any monster I’d seen in the city, on the streets, going about their business in cafés and supermarkets. Humans and monsters had always lived side by side, and my kind wasn’t scared of them, but sometimes... Sometimes you just came upon a monster like no other, and your perception of what the world was got flipped on its head a bit.

The Grim Reaper was everything I’d ever feared and yet, my only hope right now.

“You’re already dead, Ms. Aster,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “She should’ve told you that. You make a deal with that thing. There’s no going back. No negotiating.”

“But the creatures–”

“Poppets,” he interrupted, resuming his pacing. “They’re called Poppets.”

The name sent a shiver down my spine. Poppets. It sounded so innocent. Almost childlike. Not at all fitting for the creatures that had been haunting my every move. I’d tried to draw them, sketching their grotesque forms in the sketchbook I always carried with me, while I hid in a café bathroom, my hand shaking so badly I could barely hold the pencil. I’d shown the drawing to Norman, hoping he might recognize the creatures. He hadn’t said a word, just stared at the paper with a mixture of horror and pity, like I’d drawn a portrait of his worst nightmare. I let him keep the drawing so he could show it to the bodyguard he chose for me.

Because I hadn’t chosen the Grim Reaper. His handler had, based on the information about my case.

“The Poppets are everywhere. Watching me. Leaving things. Dead things.” A shudder ripped through me, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold myself together. “They haven’t entered my house yet, but I see them lurking outside, at the windows, no matter if it’s light or dark.” Because that was the thing – they weren’t creatures of darkness. They showed up everywhere, all the time. Even in my dreams. “I just need you to keep them away for fourteen days. That’s all. Fourteen days and then…”

He stopped pacing, turned to face me, and even though he had no eyes, I could feel his gaze burning into me.

“Fourteen days for what? You think you can outrun them? Outsmart them? You can’t. No one can.”

It was true. I knew it was true. Ma-Vasha held all the cards. But I clung to that sliver of hope, that maybe, just maybe, there was something I could do. Something I hadn’t thought of yet.

“Fourteen days,” I repeated, my voice cracking with desperation.

He was silent for a long moment, and the wind whipped around us, tugging at his cloak, at my hair, at the frayed edges of my sanity.

Then finally, he spoke. “What do you need fourteen days for, Ms. Aster? “

“My sister’s cat.”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. And suddenly, I felt foolish. Childish. Here I was, bargaining with a creature of death, and for what? A cat?

“What?”

“My sister’s cat, Lady Mews. She dragged herself into the kitchen, just as I was about to… You know. Drink the…” I couldn’t even say it. “The poison. She must’ve been hit by a car. Her leg was broken.”

The poison. I shuddered at the thought of it. Ma-Vasha had given it to me the night I agreed to her terms – a tiny glass vial filled with a viscous liquid the color of blood.

“A concoction of my own design,” she’d purred, her voice like silk. “Drink it as soon as your doctors confirm that your sister is healthy. Don’t let yourself be carried away and remember to hold your end of the bargain.” It was odorless, but I imagined it tasted metallic.

“And?” He sounded impatient now, like I was wasting his time.

And maybe I was. It wasn’t as if Grim Reapers had time to kill. Their work literally never ended. Though I supposed that if my job was showing people to the other side, I wouldn’t be too keen on sticking around for small talk either.

“And I had to take her to the vet. She had surgery three days ago. The vet said she needs exactly fourteen days to recover.”

He froze at my words. From pacing like a caged animal, he stilled completely, looking like a statue instead. Silence fell between us, and I didn’t know what it meant.

Chapter Three

Grim

She stood there, a fragile figure silhouetted against the clouds, her hair whipping around her face like dark flames. And for a moment, I saw her not as a client, not as a mark on Death’s to-do list, but as a woman willing to sacrifice everything for love. A fool’s errand, sure, but there was a purity to it that startled me. In all my years, I’d seen the best and worst of humanity, had witnessed their petty jealousies, their insatiable greed, the way they clung to life even as they withered and decayed. But this… This was different.

This was a love that defied logic. And in that moment, something shifted inside me. Something dark and cold and ancient, something that had been frozen solid for decades, began to thaw.

And it terrified me.

“I asked the… soul-eating creature… for an extension,” she said, her voice barely audible above the wind. “Begged her. On my knees.” She swallowed, her gaze fixed on some point beyond the horizon. “But she… she just laughed. Said Lady Mews was nothing but a ‘flea-ridden distraction.’ That I’d already failed to hold up my end of the bargain.”

A gust of wind slammed into us. The city sprawled below us, a concrete jungle teeming with the living and the dead. I wanted to fly away and lose myself in it, because listening to this woman was too much. I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Words felt useless. My hands, however, itched to reach out, to wrap themselves around her throat, to feel the life pulsing beneath her skin. To end this here and now, to spare her the torment that awaited, though that wasn’t how I reaped souls. It wasn’t in my power to take her life, even if it would’ve been a mercy at this point.

The only answer I had for her was to turn and stride towards the roof access door. “Follow me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then hurried to catch up.

We descended the stairs in silence, my boots thudding against the concrete, her footsteps light and quick behind me. We were an odd pair, I knew, the Grim Reaper and the damsel in distress. Except this damsel was trying to save her sister and her cat while fully accepting she could never save herself.

“What should I call you?” she asked, her voice small in the silence of the hallway.

“Grim,” I said, not breaking stride.

“You can call me Millie,” she said, then hesitated. “Does that mean all Grim Reapers are named… Grim?”

If I still had eyes, I would have rolled them. Humans.

We reached Norman’s office, and I pushed the door open without knocking. He looked up from his desk, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Grim? Ms. Aster? Did I miss something?”

I ignored him and stalked towards his desk, my scythe dragging behind me, leaving a deep gash in the plush carpet.

“Contract,” I said. “Now.”

He blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I felt a flicker of amusement at his expense. It was a petty thing, but even a reaper had to take his pleasures where he could find them.

“Grim, I… I don’t understand,” he stammered. “You said… you said you weren’t interested.”

“Plans change, Normie. It’s called free will, something you humans pride yourselves on.”

Ms. Aster, or Millie as she wanted to be called, stepped into the office and stood behind me.

“He’ll take the job,” she said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her words. She pulled out a credit card from her designer purse. “I can pay now.”

Norman just stared at her, then at me, then back at her. Finally, his gaze settled on the credit card. A slow smile spread across his face. The face of a predator.

“Excellent,” he said, his voice as smooth as butter.

He pulled out a contract from his desk drawer and handed it to me. I scanned it quickly. Standard MSA bodyguard agreement. Two weeks. Full protection. Ridiculously high fee. I signed it.

After signing and paying, and with a copy of the contract in her hand, Millie informed me, “I need to get back home now. I’ve been gone too long.”

“Then let’s go.”

She headed towards the elevators, and I hesitated for a moment. She pressed the button and turned to look at me, and I opened my mouth to tell her how I preferred to teleport or fly off the rooftop to wherever I needed, but then changed my mind and closed it. She’d probably come here in her car, and even though the thought of cramming myself into that metal box filled me with a particular brand of dread, I supposed it would have to do.

Besides, something told me Millie Aster wasn’t the type to appreciate a good teleportation.

The elevator was small and cramped, and I had to hold my scythe at an awkward angle to make it fit. The air was thick with the scent of her perfume, something floral and light, a stark contrast to the ever-present aroma of doom that clung to me.

The doors slid open, and she led me towards the parking garage.

“After you, Grim,” she said, gesturing towards a sleek black Bentley that gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

She held the passenger door open for me. “In you go.” She grabbed the scythe from me before I could protest. “I’ll help you with this.” Her gesture shocked me into letting go of my scythe, something I never did.

She shoved it in the back, and I resisted the urge to ask her to be careful with it. It wasn’t as if a reaper without a scythe was useless – okay, maybe I was – but it was an extension of myself, a part of me that had been with me for longer than I cared to remember.

I folded myself into the leather seat, my cloak practically filling the entire space. The scent of leather and pine air freshener filled my nostrils, a peculiar combination that reminded me vaguely of Norman’s office.

“You drive yourself?” I asked, my voice echoing strangely in the confined space. “I thought heiresses had staff.”

She started the engine, and the car purred to life. “You’ll understand soon enough,” she said, maneuvering the car out of the parking space with practiced ease.

The Bentley was all sleek lines and enough horsepower to make me feel a jolt where my heart should’ve been. It was the kind of car that screamed, “Look at me, I have more money than sense.” Not that Ms. Aster struck me as the type to flaunt it, not like the other humans I’d had the misfortune of protecting. But still, the car felt excessive. A gilded cage on four wheels.

“It’s about a twenty-minute drive, depending on traffic,” she said, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“Delightful,” I muttered, sinking further into the leather seat. My cloak, as always, had a mind of its own, spreading out like a ravenous beast devouring its prey. I tried to tuck it in, keep it contained, but it was a losing battle. It was like trying to reason with a tornado.

In less than twenty-minutes – thank God! – we pulled up to a pair of wrought-iron gates that wouldn’t have looked out of place guarding a graveyard. Or maybe a palace. They were flanked by towering stone pillars topped with ornate carvings that looked like something straight out of a gothic novel.

She punched in a code, and the gates swung open, revealing a long, winding driveway lined with perfectly manicured lawns. The house itself was a sprawling Tudor mansion that seemed to stretch on forever, all gables and chimneys and lead-glass windows that shimmered in the fading light.

It was obscene.

And yet, there was a certain melancholic beauty to it, like a faded photograph from a bygone era. A time when humans still believed they were masters of their own destiny.

We entered through a set of massive oak doors, each one easily twice my size, and stepped into a grand foyer that made the MSA office look like a broom closet. A crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting shimmering rainbows across the polished marble floors. A sweeping staircase led to a balcony lined with portraits of stern-faced men and women who looked like they hadn’t cracked a smile in centuries. My kind of crowd.

I stalked across the foyer, my boots echoing against the marble, my senses on high alert. The air was thick with the scent of old money and even older magic. The kind of magic that whispered in the shadows, the kind that had teeth. This was where Millie had summoned Ma-Vasha. Such madness to bring that soul-eating beast into your home.

I ran a bony hand along the smooth surface of a nearby table. It was covered in a white linen cloth that practically screamed “don’t touch me, peasant!”

Millie was watching me, her brow furrowed. “Don’t mind him,” she said to no one in particular. Or so I thought. “He’s just... adjusting.”

“Adjusting?” The word felt strange in my mouth. An understatement, really.

My gaze swept over the obscene wealth surrounding me. A lifetime ago, I would’ve killed for just a fraction of this opulence. A roof over my head that didn’t leak when it rained. Walls that kept out the cold. A fire that didn’t come from a burning trash can in some godforsaken alley. Instead, I ended up as mangled flesh in a ditch. Then Death showed up and offered me a chance that sounded better than anything I’d been given in my mortal life – to reap for them. An eternity to experience this world from a different angle.

My bitter thoughts were interrupted by a blur of movement that caught my eye, and then I was face-to-face with...

A child.

She couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, with short hair that was just growing back after having been shaved, her eyes wide and curious as she stared up at me. She was the image of Millie, just a miniature version, and the sight of her sent a strange pang through my hollow chest.

“Millie!” she shrieked, hiding behind her sister.

In that moment, I realized something. This child – this innocent creature – was the reason for all of this. The reason Millie Aster had traded her soul. The reason she’d chased me down and begged me to protect her.

Chapter Four

Millie

Elysia came bounding down the stairs. My heart ached with a fierce, overwhelming love for this little human who had no idea of the burden I carried for her. For a second, I forgot all about the Grim Reaper standing in the foyer of my home. I forgot about the deal with the soul-eating creature that haunted my every waking moment. All I saw was Elysia, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining with mischief, her dark hair – so like my own – growing fast.

It was a miracle, really. Ma-Vasha had kept her word. Elysia was healthy. The leukemia that had ravaged her tiny body was gone. Her hair, which had fallen out in clumps and we had to shave, was growing back, soft and thick. She had energy again, the boundless energy of a child who had been given a second chance at life. And even if it had been at the cost of my own soul, seeing her like this was worth it. Every single sacrifice, every sleepless night, every tear I’d cried – all worth it. It had been so long since I’d seen her like this – healthy and full of life. In fact, I hadn’t seen her this energetic since she was a baby.

“Millie!”

Her panicked shriek reminded me that a Grim Reaper was standing right there, and she had no way of knowing he was harmless.

“Is he here for me?” she asked, hiding behind me, looking at Grim with wide eyes. “I’m not ready. Tell him I’m not ready.”

“No!” I turned around and pulled her in my arms. “No, he’s a friend. A guest. He’s not here for you.” She relaxed. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.” But how could I have told her, when I hadn’t known I was going to hire a Grim Reaper to guard us until I was signing the contract?

“Okay,” she said, pulling herself free. “I’m okay.” She took a step towards him and looked up at him.

Grim simply stared at her, not knowing how to react.

“I read about Grim Reapers on the Internet,” she said.

“But why?” I asked.

A shadow crossed her face, and for a moment, she looked older than her years. It was a look I’d seen more and more often in the months since our parents died, a look that spoke of a wisdom no eight-year-old should possess.

“After Mom and Dad…” she began, her voice barely a whisper. “After the accident, I wanted to know if they’d seen one.”

Of course. “You thought they might’ve seen a Grim Reaper?” My voice sounded strange, even to my own ears.

She bit her lip, a nervous habit she’d developed after the diagnosis. “I wanted to know what they saw at the end.” She looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together. “And then, when I got sick again, I wanted to be prepared.” She met my gaze, her eyes filled with a heartbreaking maturity. “So I wouldn’t be scared.”

I couldn’t speak.

“I read that Grim Reapers aren’t scary. They’re just helpers. They make sure people aren’t afraid when it’s their time to go.” She looked up at Grim. “I’m sorry I reacted that way. That was impolite.”

Grim shook his head. “No need to apologize.”

Her words, so innocent and yet so profound, hung in the air between us. I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure.

“That’s… That’s very insightful, Elysia,” I finally managed. “But let’s not talk about morbid things right now, okay?” I gestured towards the dining room. “Why don’t you show Grim where we’re having dinner? I’ll be there in a minute.”

She beamed at me, her earlier solemnity forgotten. “Okay, Millie!” She skipped over to Grim, her small hand reaching out to take his bony one. My breath caught in my throat, but to my surprise, he didn’t flinch away. He just stood there, his gaze fixed on her, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in those endless depths. Something akin to… wonder?

It was probably just a trick of the light.

As soon as they were out of sight, I turned and practically ran to the kitchen. I needed a moment to myself. A moment to process what had just happened. The encounter with Grim, the revelation that Elysia had been researching death on the Internet, the fact that I was now harboring a creature of darkness in my home. It was all too much.

At the kitchen sink, I splashed cold water on my face, the shock of it bringing me back to the present. I needed to pull myself together. For Elysia. For the next fourteen days, I had to be strong. I had to pretend that everything was okay.

I glanced at the time displayed on the microwave. Almost seven. Chef Pierre had left a fully stocked fridge before I’d let him go on “indefinite leave”, as I’d put it. When those creatures of clay and straw started popping up, stalking the house, I dismissed all the staff. I did more than that. I drew all the curtains, to all the windows, and made Elysia promise she wouldn’t go out of the house. I had to lie to her and invent a ridiculous story about an airborne virus that was going around. It made zero sense, but so far, my sister hadn’t questioned me.

I pulled out a casserole dish filled with chicken pot pie, a side of roasted vegetables, and a loaf of crusty bread. I carried the food into the dining room, my heart sinking as I saw Grim standing by the window, his back to me. Even in the dim light, his presence filled the room with a sense of wrongness.

I cleared my throat, and he turned to face me. “I’ve set the table for three,” I said, my voice a little too bright. “Hope that’s okay.”

He raised an eyebrow, or at least I thought he did. It was hard to tell with those empty sockets where his eyes should’ve been. “Three? Ms. Aster, I hate to break it to you, but I’m technically dead. I don’t eat.”

A wave of heat crept up my neck at his words. “Right. Of course. Sorry. I just… I assumed…” I stammered, feeling like an idiot.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “I’ll sit with you. It’s been a while since I’ve… dined... with others.”

I couldn’t tell if he meant it, or if he was just trying to be polite, but I nodded and took my seat at the table. Elysia was already seated across from me, her eyes shining with excitement. Since her health had returned, she ate like the world was ending and there wasn’t enough to go around. It filled me with joy. But while her appetite had returned, mine had diminished.

My stomach churned as I looked at the food in front of me. I managed a few bites, but my throat felt tight, and I couldn’t bring myself to eat another bite. Instead, I focused on watching Elysia demolish her meal.

“Millie? How’s Lady Mews?”

I blinked, startled. I’d almost forgotten about Lady Mews and that when I went out this morning, my destination was the pet hospital, not Monster Security Agency. I did go to the vet first, then realized I was being watched, followed, hounded by those things, and that I needed protection.

Lady Mews. Three days ago, she came in with a broken leg at the worst possible time. Or maybe it was fate intervening. I took a sip of water, trying to moisten my dry throat.

“She’s okay. Still recovering from the surgery. She’s doing much better.” I tried to sound upbeat.

Elysia’s face lit up. “But it’s been three days! That’s a long time. Do you think I can see her tomorrow?” She looked from me to Grim.

I shook my head. “Not tomorrow, sweetheart. But soon, okay? Dr. Jenkins wants to keep an eye on her for a few more days.”

Elysia sighed dramatically. “Fine,” she said, then pushed her plate away. She stretched and yawned. “I’m full. Can I be excused?”

“Of course you can. Come give me a kiss goodnight.”

She stood and walked over to me. I hugged her tight, burying my face in the crook of her neck. Part of me wanted to hold on to her forever, to shield her from the darkness that threatened to engulf us.

She pulled back and kissed me on the cheek. “Goodnight, Millie,” she said, then turned to Grim. “Goodnight, Grim,” she said, her voice hesitant. I was sure her research had revealed Grim Reapers didn’t sleep. Still, it was only polite.

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Goodnight, Elysia.” His voice was surprisingly gentle.

I watched as she climbed the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the silence, her presence a warm light in the growing darkness of the house. I felt hollowed out.

“Do you at least drink?” I asked, picking up my wine glass. It was almost empty, and I really needed a refill.

“No,” he said, an edge of amusement in his voice. “Technically, I don’t have a stomach.”

“Right.” I felt my cheeks flush. Of course. Silly question. I poured myself another glass, then looked at him. “Want to join me in the living room?”

Grim stood up. I followed suit and picked up the bottle of wine and my glass. I didn’t bother with coasters or anything. Coasters felt like something my mother would’ve insisted on, and my mother was long gone. It felt strange to use them now. Like I was pretending to be someone I no longer was.

The living room was large, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the lake. Usually, it was filled with light, but tonight, with all the curtains drawn, it felt small and oppressive. A single lamp cast a pool of warm light in the center of the room, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the air.

Grim didn’t seem to notice the gloominess of the place. He moved with a strange grace, his skeletal form seeming to glide rather than walk. It was eerie and mesmerizing at the same time. He sat down on one of the plush sofas, his movements suddenly stiff and awkward, like he felt out of place, his scythe always by his side. I chose the armchair facing him.

“Tell me,” he said. “How is it that a human like you knows about such a creature? Ma-Vasha, I mean. Her kind prefers to operate in the shadows.”

Operate in the shadows. Nice choice of words, I thought. I told him about Dr. Wallace. How after Elysia’s last appointment, when I’d received the news that they’d exhausted all possible treatments, Dr. Wallace pulled me aside, his face pale and drawn beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor.

“He said he knew a way. A way to save her.”

“And you didn’t question his motives?” Grim asked, his voice devoid of judgment. “Didn’t think to ask how a simple doctor knew of such things?”

“I didn’t care! He could’ve offered me a deal with the devil himself, and I would’ve taken it. Because Elysia… she’s…” My voice broke and I couldn’t go on.

“She is your everything.” Grim finished for me.

I nodded, tears pricking my eyes. I quickly blinked them back. I refused to cry in front of him.

“It seems clear to me now that this Dr. Wallace is one of Ma-Vasha’s acolytes,” he said. “They procure sustenance for her. In exchange, she grants them favors.”

“He told me how to summon her,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I did it late that night. In the sunroom.”

The sunroom. I hadn’t set foot in there since then, locked it up and tried to not even think about it. The memory of it, the oppressive heat, the scent of decaying flowers, that creature’s presence… It was too vivid, too raw.

I could still hear her voice, a raspy whisper that seemed to slither through the air.

“A life for a life,” she’d hissed. “A soul for a soul.” Her words, laden with ancient power, had echoed through the silence. “Do we have a deal, Camellia Aster?”

“We do,” I’d breathed, my voice trembling. I would’ve given her anything, sacrificed everything, for even the slightest chance to save my sister.

“Good,” Ma-Vasha hissed, extending a hand that seemed to shimmer with a power not of this world. In her palm lay a vial filled with a viscous liquid. “This poison will ensure our arrangement is upheld.” Even now, I could feel the imprint of her touch on my skin, a searing coldness that lingered long after she’d vanished.

“The sunroom…” Grim’s voice, low and thoughtful, broke through my memories. “That’s where you negotiated with her?” It wasn’t really a question. More of a statement.

“Yes,” I whispered, burying my face in my hands. “And now… now I’m trapped. Just like everyone else who dared to bargain with that creature.”

Silence descended upon the room. But this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was companionable, strangely enough.

“What about Elysia? Does she know?”

My head shot up. “No!” My voice came out sharp with alarm. “She can’t! She doesn’t know!”

“I see,” Grim said, nodding slowly. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Your secret is safe with me.”

I didn’t know why I trusted him, but I did. And so, I told him everything. About the deal, about the poison Ma-Vasha had given me, about the fear that gnawed at me every waking moment. When I was done, I felt drained, empty. Like I’d just poured out the last of my soul along with all those words.

Grim listened patiently, his skeletal face unreadable in the dim light. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t judge, which was, if I thought about it, incredibly bizarre. But his silence was comforting.

In the end, I was the one to break it. “Now you know.”

He nodded.

“If this arrangement of ours is going to work,” Grim said, his voice taking on a business-like tone, “We need rules. Three to be exact.”

Rules. Of course. What was I expecting, really? To just have him hang out and keep those weird creatures of clay and straw from killing me? This was a Grim Reaper, after all. Not some friendly neighborhood watch volunteer.

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “What are your rules?”

He held up a bony finger. “Rule number one: a deal is a deal. Understand, Ms. Aster, I can protect you from Ma-Vasha’s little pets, but I cannot interfere with the terms of your agreement.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “You made a deal with a creature of immense power, and that power demands a hefty price.”

I knew what he was saying. He was reminding me that my life was forfeit. That no matter what happened, no matter how many of those creepy Poppets he vanquished, in the end, I would have to drink the poison.

“I understand,” I said, my voice catching in my throat.

He nodded. “Good. Rule number two,” he said, holding up a second skeletal digit. “You do exactly as I say. No questions asked.”

Given the circumstances, I wasn’t really in a position to argue. “Alright,” I agreed. “No questions asked.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Now, rule number three…” He hesitated, those empty sockets seeming to bore into me. “My cloak and my scythe,” he said finally, his voice low and menacing. “Off limits. You don’t touch them. Ever.”

I frowned, confused. “But I’ve touched them already,” I pointed out. “Back on the rooftop, and in the car. Nothing happened.”

He stiffened, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. “Nonetheless, Ms. Aster, they are off-limits. You will not touch them again. Is that understood?”

I raised my hands in surrender, trying to hide my amusement. “Alright, alright. Message received. No touching the Grim Reaper’s… accessories.”

He just stared at me, his skeletal face unreadable. He must’ve sensed my amusement, because he let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Good.”

Silence fell between us, and I found myself thinking about his rules. The first two, I understood. But the third – the cloak and the scythe – what was it about these items that made them so untouchable? I mean, I’d already manhandled the scythe, shoving it unceremoniously into the backseat of my car. He’d definitely been annoyed.

I took a sip of my wine, my gaze lingering on Grim. He was staring into the empty fireplace, his face illuminated by the flickering light of the lamp. Suddenly, I felt a surge of… something. Gratitude? Sympathy? I didn’t know.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He turned to look at me, those empty sockets seeming to pierce through me. “For what?”

I smiled. “For giving me a fighting chance. For protecting us.”

He didn’t say anything, just inclined his head slightly.

Maybe things were going to be okay, after all. At least for the next fourteen days.

Chapter Five

Grim

I stalked through the rooms, my boots silent on the hardwood floors. Even my scythe, usually scraping against everything in its path, seemed to tread lightly tonight. Must’ve been the overwhelming aroma of grief and old floral air freshener that clung to every surface. That, and the suffocating silence. Apparently, even the ghosts that haunted this place knew better than to make a peep while I was around. Or maybe, they were just as terrified of me as the living were. Couldn’t say I blamed them.

I inspected every window, every door, nook and cranny, making sure the Poppets weren’t trying to get in. A few hours ago, this house had been filled with the echoes of Millie’s voice, the pitter-patter of that kid’s feet on the stairs, and the scent of chicken pot pie. Now, it felt as empty as a graveyard at midnight.

I paused by the fireplace in the living room. On the mantelpiece sat a collection of framed photographs. Millie and some guy who had too much hair gel in his hair, grinning at the camera. Millie holding a giggling baby with a mop of dark curls – Elysia as a wee thing. Then, a portrait of a couple, their faces etched with the kind of love and happiness that made my non-existent heart ache: Millie’s parents. They were gone.

I let my senses drift, stretching out to encompass the house, feeling for any trace of disturbance. The air was thick with remnants of their joy, their laughter, their love. A love so potent it had seeped into the very foundation of the house, weaving a protective shield around the place. It was no wonder the Poppets hadn’t dared to cross the threshold. This house was protected by their love for their daughters.

A tap on one of the windows startled me. It was the kind of sound that set your teeth on edge, like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard. I turned, my hand instinctively gripping my scythe, and crossed the room in three long strides. I yanked the velvet curtain aside, revealing one of those damned Poppets.

It stood on the lawn, a grotesque mockery of a human child, its eyes like glowing embers in the darkness. It didn’t move, didn’t even blink. Just stared at me with those unnerving eyes as if I were the one intruding on its territory

I pressed my skeletal face against the cold glass. “You’d best be on your way,” I growled. It probably couldn’t hear me, not through the thick glass. But the sight of me and my scythe was a language even a creature like that understood.

The Poppet didn’t move. It simply continued to stare at me, its silence more menacing than any threat it could’ve uttered. I turned away, my cloak swirling around me like a restless spirit, and headed back towards the living room, more annoyed than anything. That creature was like a fly buzzing around a corpse – irritating, but ultimately harmless. At least for now.

I was halfway across the room when I heard it.

A scream.

High-pitched, blood-curdling, laced with terror.

Millie.

I didn’t waste time with doors or stairs. They were human constructs, after all, and I hadn’t been human in a long, long time. I teleported. One moment I was standing in the living room, and the next, I was in her bedroom.

It was dark, the only light coming from a sliver of moon peeking through a gap in the heavy curtains. And then I saw her. She was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with terror, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Her hair, normally so sleek and smooth, was a tangled mess around her shoulders. Her face, usually pale, was now ashen, beads of sweat clinging to her upper lip.

“Millie! What is it? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t even seem to see me. Her gaze was fixed on a point just beyond my shoulder, her entire body trembling as if a current of electricity was surging through her veins. Her lips moved, but no sound came out, just a silent scream that tore at something deep inside me.

“Millie,” I whispered, taking a step closer, my boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor. It was strange, really, how a creature like me could feel so protective of this human. But there was something about her, something in the way her eyes held a flicker of defiance even in the face of terror, that stirred something primal within my non-existent gut.

She finally seemed to see me. Her gaze darted to mine, those big blue eyes widening even further, reflecting the moonlight like a pair of sapphires. Then, recognition flickered across her face, chasing away some of the terror.

“Grim?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She tried to sit up straighter, to smooth down her hair, but her hand trembled so violently that she only succeeded in making herself look more vulnerable.

“Easy there,” I said, holding up a hand even though a part of me – a part I hadn’t known existed until this very moment – wanted to scoop her up in my arms, shield her from whatever horror had wormed its way into her dreams. “You’re safe now.”

Safe with me. The Grim Reaper. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. It was a worthy effort, but the fear was still there.

“I need…” she started to say, her voice shaky, then stopped, her gaze darting to the bathroom door.

She tried to stand, to push back the covers and swing those long, lean legs over the side of the bed, but her knees buckled, and she would’ve face-planted on the floor if I hadn’t moved with the unnatural speed of a creature who was definitely not human. I caught her just in time, her small frame colliding with mine.

“Whoa there,” I said. “Seems like the nightmare you just had left you a little unsteady.” I held her at arm’s length for a second, just long enough to make sure she wasn’t about to keel over again.

Her skin was even paler than usual, almost translucent in the moonlight filtering through the window, and those big blue eyes stared up at me with gratitude. And it struck me, not for the first time tonight, just how small she was. Delicate. Like one of those fancy China dolls wealthy families like hers kept in glass cases – the kind you weren’t supposed to touch. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her nightdress. The urge to pull her closer, to feel the beat of her heart against my empty chest was overwhelming for a second. I resisted it. Barely.

“What was the nightmare about?” I asked, my voice rougher than usual.

“It felt so real,” she whispered, her gaze darting around the room. “I was being chased by those things.”

Those things. Of course. The Poppets. “And they caught you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” she breathed. She hugged herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection, as if trying to hold herself together. “One of them caught me. It bit me with its straw teeth.”

I cursed under my breath. So much for the protective barrier around the house. It seemed Ma-Vasha’s pets had found a way in, after all. Into her mind, at least. I’d dealt with my fair share of nightmares in my time, but these were different. These were woven from the stuff of ancient magic, fueled by the raw power of a creature that could swallow souls whole.

“Where did it bite you?” I asked, my gaze sweeping over her.

She lifted her left arm, her fingers tracing a path along her forearm as if following the ghost of a touch. “Here,” she whispered. “And here.”

I stepped closer and peered down at her arm. Two puncture marks marred her smooth, pale skin – tiny pinpricks ringed with angry red.

“The dreams are real, Millie,” I said, keeping my voice low and steady. Those damned Poppets! They couldn’t breach the perimeter of love and light that surrounded the house, not yet, but they could slip through the cracks of her mind, could worm their way into her dreams and leave their mark.

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“They can get inside your dreams.” I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed – her bed – careful not to crowd her. It was a strange sensation, being this close to a living, breathing human, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin, the subtle scent of lavender and something else… something uniquely her. It was both intoxicating and terrifying. “They can touch you. Hurt you. Has this happened before?”

She shuddered, nodding. “Yes.” She tugged at the hem of her nightdress. “A couple of times. I thought I was just imagining things.” Her fingers tightened on the thin fabric, bunching it up around her thighs. “See?”

It was like a goddamn ambush! That simple movement, the flash of pale skin in the moonlight. Every fiber of my being went on high alert. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening, crackling with something that smelled a hell of a lot like lust. It had been a century – a goddamn century! – since I’d felt anything remotely like this.

I quickly averted my gaze, focusing on a crack in the wall, a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, anything to keep from staring at her like a starving man at a banquet. But it was too late. I’d seen them. The bite marks on her thighs, just above the edge of that ridiculous nightdress.

Those marks, those tiny wounds, shouldn’t have affected me the way they did. I was a creature of death, for crying out loud! I’d seen it all, smelled it all, felt death’s icy grip a thousand times over. Yet, here I was, staring at a couple of pinpricks on this woman’s thighs like they were mortal wounds. And the feeling that slammed into me, right where my heart used to be, was anything but dead. It was a jolt of possessiveness that made my bones ache, a need to shield her from those things, to wrap my fingers around their necks and…

I shifted on the bed, my cloak rustling. I needed to focus. But the scent of her – all lavender and something uniquely Millie – was doing things to my hollow body. She was like a siren, luring me closer to… what? Oblivion? Redemption? I wasn’t sure which one scared me more.

“They won’t hurt you again,” I said, trying to keep it together.

I reached out, my hand hovering over her leg for a second before I gently touched the marks on her thigh. Her skin was warm beneath my touch. I could feel the life pulsating inside her. It was a heady sensation, intoxicating and terrifying.

Millie shuddered at my touch, but not in a bad way. I pulled my hand back as if burned.

“I’ll keep you safe,” I said. It was the truth. I would keep her safe. Even if it killed me. Which, considering my current state of being, was highly unlikely. But still.

“How? They come when I sleep. I can’t stop them.”

“I’ll be here every night. We’ll find a way.”

Millie gave me a gentle smile, then stood up and announced she needed the bathroom. I steered her gently towards it, my hand a light pressure on her back. Even that simple touch sent a jolt of longing through me. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the feeling. I was a Grim Reaper. What did I know about longing? About desire? Those were luxuries for the living, for creatures with beating hearts and functioning… well, everything.

The bathroom door shut with a soft click. I took up position just outside, my back to the wall. I could hear her in there, the soft rustle of her nightgown, the splash of water as she washed her face. Each sound, each tiny movement, pulled at something deep inside me, something I hadn’t realized was still there. Was this… concern? Protectiveness? It felt uncomfortably close to… affection. And fear. I was terrified for her, for what those creatures might do to her if they managed to break through the thin veil of her dreams again.

I’d promised to keep her safe. But how could I protect her from something I couldn’t fight? The Poppets were like cockroaches, skittering in the shadows, slipping through cracks that even I couldn’t reach. They were extensions of Ma-Vasha’s will, animated by her power, and she… Well, she was older than time itself. As ancient as Death.

Millie’s mind was the one place I couldn’t follow. Couldn’t guard. Maybe she needed someone else. Someone who could fight those things on their own turf – in the ethereal realm where dreams and nightmares collided. Someone less corporeal. Less me.

But the thought of leaving her, of another entity – spectral or otherwise – guarding her door, filled me with a cold dread that had nothing to do with my usual state of being. I’d sworn to keep her safe, and I would. Even if it meant confronting my own limitations, my own inability to be what she truly needed – a protector in every sense of the word. No. I wouldn’t fail her. I couldn’t.

Chapter Six

Millie

The stairs creaked under my feet. I hated that they creaked, always had. They were a reminder that even in a house as grand and imposing as Asterhaven, some things were just old and breakable. My great-great-grandfather had called it Asterhaven, and it stuck.

Grim followed close behind, silent as a shadow, his presence comforting. It was strange how quickly I was getting used to having him around.

In the kitchen, I put on the kettle to make tea. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I hadn’t slept properly in days. Not since the nightmares started. And the lack of sleep was starting to get to me. My head throbbed, my limbs felt heavy, and every shadow seemed to hold some unseen terror.

“Are you all right, Millie?” Grim’s voice, low and raspy, startled me out of my thoughts. He was leaning against the counter, his skeletal arms crossed over his chest, his empty sockets fixed on me with intensity.

“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired.” I rummaged through the cupboards, my hand hovering over the assortment of teas. Chamomile, peppermint, Earl Grey. I settled for a blend called Midnight Serenity. It seemed appropriate, given the circumstances.

“I’m sorry you haven’t been sleeping well,” he said.

“Nightmares will do that to you,” I said, pouring the boiling water into a mug. The scent of lavender and chamomile wafted up, momentarily chasing away the stale, floral perfume that seemed to linger in every corner of the house.

We moved into the living room, me with my steaming mug of tea, him with his inseparable scythe. I curled up on one end of the sofa, tucking my feet under me. Grim took the armchair opposite me, his frame stiff and upright. It was as if he’d forgotten how to relax, how to simply be.

“They say homes hold onto the memories of those who lived within their walls,” he said. “Even after those souls have moved on.”

I frowned, taking a sip of my tea. It was lukewarm by this point, but I didn’t care. “Is that a Grim Reaper thing? Knowing about houses and stuff?”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve been around for a while. Seen things, heard things.” He paused. “This house is filled with love. With laughter, with the echoes of a family that was whole and happy.”

My chest tightened. A family that was whole and happy. Was. Past tense. Grim’s words, spoken with a gentleness I wouldn’t have expected from a creature of death, hit me harder than I’d anticipated. He was right, of course. Asterhaven had always been filled with warmth, with a sense of belonging that had wrapped around me like a blanket. Until it wasn’t. Until the car crash.

“Tell me about them,” Grim said. “Your parents. What were they like? What did they love?”

I hesitated. Talking about my parents, especially now, felt like picking at a scab that had just started to heal. But there was something about Grim’s request, something genuine behind his rasping tone, that made me want to tell him. Maybe he was right, and houses did hold onto memories.

“My mother,” I began, her face – always so vibrant, so full of life – flashing before my eyes. “She was like sunshine. Always smiling, always seeing the good in everything and everyone. She loved to garden. She said it grounded her. Kept her sane.” I smiled as I remembered the countless hours I’d spent with her weeding, planting, and occasionally, much to her amusement, getting hopelessly tangled in the rose bushes and ending up scratched all over.

“And your father?” Grim prompted, tilting his head slightly as if to catch my every word.

“My father… He was a force of nature. Always had to be doing something, fixing something, building something. He built that boathouse,” I said, gesturing vaguely towards the lake. “From scratch. Said it was his legacy.” My voice caught in my throat. It was strange how easily these memories, so cherished, could morph into weapons, stabbing at my heart, reminding me of everything I’d lost.

“He enjoyed a good project,” Grim murmured. “Most fathers do.”

And then, because the silence that followed was too heavy to bear, I told him about the accident. About the day that had started like any other, with the smell of coffee and Chef Pierre’s famous blueberry pancakes, and ended with the screech of tires on asphalt, the sickening crunch of metal, and a silence so profound it felt like the world itself had stopped breathing.

“It was a rainy night,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “They were driving back from the city. A fundraiser. My mother was on the board of… well, it doesn’t matter. They were on their way home, and…” I trailed off, unable to finish.

Grim didn’t push me. He just sat there and listened to whatever I was able to tell him. He listened to my words, but also to my silence.

“The police said it was instant,” I finally managed. “That they didn’t suffer. But…” I shook my head, the image of the mangled wreckage, of the EMT pulling a white sheet over… I cleared my throat and blinked fast to stop the tears. It had only been a year, and the pain was still fresh and raw.

“But a part of you doesn’t believe them,” Grim finished.

“I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye,” I whispered. The words hung in the air between us, heavy with grief.

He leaned forward, his skeletal hands resting on his knees. “And this house,” he said. “It’s been quiet since then.”

A shiver ran down my spine, and it wasn’t from the cold. It was as if he’d read my mind, had plucked the thought from the tangled mess of my grief and held it up for both of us to see. It was true. Even before the Poppets, even before the deal with Ma-Vasha, Asterhaven had felt different. Empty. Like the heart of the house had been ripped out, leaving behind a gaping wound that refused to close.

“It’s like they’re still here, you know?” I said softly, my gaze sweeping over the living room. “Their presence. It’s everywhere.” I could almost feel them – my parents – a warmth that lingered just beyond the reach of my senses. Their laughter echoing in the halls, the scent of my mother’s perfume in the air, the ghost of my father’s hand resting on my shoulder.

“Their love,” Grim said. “It’s protecting this place, Millie. Protecting you.” He hesitated. “But how long can it last? Can even the strongest love withstand…” He trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

How long? I didn’t know the answer any more than he did. And suddenly, the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, pressing in on me, suffocating me. I took a shaky breath, the scent of lavender and chamomile doing little to calm the rising panic in my chest.

Grim shifted in his armchair. “How long has it been since they passed?”

“A year.”

He nodded. There wasn’t much else to say, so we fell silent, me sipping my tea, him staring at an indefinite point on the carpet.

A soft tapping, like ghostly fingernails drumming on glass, filtered through the quiet murmur of the old grandfather clock in the hall. I tried to ignore it, to focus on the warmth radiating from the cup of tea in my hand. But the tapping persisted, growing louder, more insistent. It was as if those things knew I was trying to block them out, knew they were getting to me.

Grim didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he was just choosing to ignore it. Either way, his silence was both a comfort and a curse. I wished he would say something, anything, to break the tension that seemed to crackle in the air like static electricity. But he just sat there, his skeletal form a study in stillness.

And then, through the tapping, I heard them – their voices. Faint whispers, slithering through the cracks of my consciousness, like snakes coiling around my thoughts.

“We are here, Camellia.”

The whispers were soft, insidious. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the voices away, but they were relentless, echoing in that place between sleep and wakefulness.

“You can’t hide forever. We can see you, feel you, we know what’s in your soul.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to swallow down the fear that threatened to rise up, choking me. I glanced at Grim. He didn’t seem to have noticed. Which meant either their whispers couldn’t penetrate his defenses, or that he was choosing not to acknowledge them. Either way, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. Besides, the Poppets were whispering things I didn’t want to think about. Things that chipped away at the fragile scaffolding of my sanity.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Grim said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in my chest.

I jumped, sloshing tea over the rim of my mug. “It’s nothing,” I said, quickly dabbing at the spill with the sleeve of my nightgown. “Just thinking about the Poppets. Wondering what they want.”

Grim shifted in his armchair, the movement strangely graceful for a creature made of bones. “They want what their mistress wants. Your soul, Millie. It’s the price you agreed to pay.”

I knew he was right. But some part of me – some ridiculous, hopeful part – clung to the belief that maybe, just maybe, there was another way.

We sat in silence for a while, the grandfather clock in the hall ticking away the seconds like a metronome counting down to an inevitable doom. My eyelids felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and a gnawing sense of dread.

I must’ve dozed off because the next thing I knew, I was back in the nightmare from before. The air was thick and cloying – the scent of decaying flowers heavy in my nostrils. I was running, my bare feet slapping against cold stone, my lungs burning with each ragged breath. The Poppets were everywhere, their straw limbs flailing, their button eyes glowing with malice. One of them lunged, its claws raking down my arm, and I screamed.

“Millie! Wake up!”

Grim’s voice, sharp and insistent, cut through the terror, yanking me back to reality. I sat up with a gasp, my heart pounding in my chest. Tears streamed down my face, and I angrily wiped at them with my sleeve.

“It’s okay,” Grim said, his voice soft. “You were dreaming.”

Dreaming. As if that made it any less real. As if the terror that clung to me like a second skin was merely a figment of my sleep-deprived imagination.

“I can’t... I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m so tired, Grim.”

He sat down next to me on the sofa. For a moment, he didn’t speak, just sat there. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.

“Maybe…” he started to say, his voice hesitant, then stopped, as if unsure of how to continue. “Maybe you need someone else, Millie. Someone who can actually protect you.”

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Someone who can fight the Poppets in the realm of dreams.”

“But you’re my bodyguard,” I said.

“I can keep you safe in this world,” he said, the words heavy with an emotion I couldn’t place. Regret? Frustration? “But your mind... your dreams... that’s a place I can’t reach. There are monsters who can, and we can talk to Norman about finding someone for you.”

“But you have to protect me,” I insisted, panic welling up in my chest, choking me. “You promised!”

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, which was a weird thing for someone who didn’t need to breathe. “There are limits to what I can do,” he said. “Some battles have to be fought from within.”

“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

He shook his head, and for a horrifying second, I thought he was going to say this wasn’t working out and I needed to hire someone else.

“Never,” he growled, the word more of a rumble deep in his chest than actual speech.

And then, he did something completely unexpected. He pulled me towards him, his bony arms surprisingly strong as he wrapped me in a tight embrace. I stiffened at first, shocked by the sudden contact – the feel of his skeletal frame pressing against mine. And then, before I could protest or pull away, he draped his cloak over my shoulders.

I closed my eyes, my cheek brushing against the rough fabric of his cloak, my heart thudding against my ribs. As I inhaled his scent, a sense of calm washed over me, chasing away the remnants of the nightmare and the echoes of the Poppets’ whispers.

For the first time in days, I felt safe.

Chapter Seven

Grim

Her breath hitched, a tiny, shuddering sigh, and her head lolled against my chest. I thought about waking her. I really should have. This was getting ridiculous. But then I saw it – a ghost of a smile playing on her lips, chasing away the fear that had been clinging to her like a shroud. It was the first time I’d seen her smile since… Hell! Since I’d met her.

She was having a good dream. For once. I let her sleep.

I kept my arm around her, my hand resting lightly on her back, feeling the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her nightgown. I draped my cloak more securely around her shoulders, as if I could shield her from her nightmares, from the entire bloody world, with nothing but a few yards of enchanted fabric.

It was strange… being this close to her. To a living, breathing human. Feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the soft curve of her hip pressed against mine. It shouldn’t have affected me in this way. I was a Grim Reaper. A servant of Death. What did someone like me know about the warmth of a woman’s body?

I should have felt nothing. My kind didn’t do feelings. Not anymore. Not since…

Well, not since the war. World War One, to be more exact. Since the mustard gas had eaten away at my lungs, my skin, my humanity, leaving behind nothing but a husk of a man. A monster in a ruined temple of flesh.

Death had offered me a way out. A job. A purpose.

“Become one of mine,” they’d said, their voice a chorus of whispers and sighs. “Join my ranks. Shepherd the dead to their final destination.”

They hadn’t mentioned the part where they hollowed you out. No heart, no lungs, no blood. Nothing but magic and shadows holding me together. I was a walking, talking – well, mostly walking and growling – paradox. A creature of death who didn’t think he could ever feel the warmth of a living woman against his body and be aroused by it.

Millie shifted in her sleep, snuggling closer, her head finding the crook of my neck. A soft sigh escaped her lips, a sound so innocent and fundamentally alive that it sent a shiver through me. Her closeness stirred things inside me. Ghost sensations, echoes of a life long gone. The phantom thrum of a heartbeat in my chest. A warmth spreading through my limbs, pooling low in my belly.

She did this to me - pulled at the tattered edges of my humanity, reminding me of things I’d long since buried and forgotten.

I took a slow, measured breath, even though I didn’t need to breathe. Not anymore. My lungs were ghosts, just like the rest of me. It was only a learned behavior I couldn’t get rid of. When I inhaled, I could smell her – lavender and something faintly sweet, like honeysuckle on a summer night. It was intoxicating. Terrifying.

She was an enigma, and for some reason, I wanted to solve her. To unravel the secrets she held inside, to lose myself in the depths of her blue eyes. A low growl rumbled in my chest, a sound that was both a warning and a plea. This was dangerous. Stupid. Camellia Aster was my client, my responsibility. I had no business feeling anything for her.

But as I looked down at her, at the way her dark hair fanned out across my arm like a silken wave, the way her lips curved into a small, peaceful smile, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, some lines were meant to be crossed. Of course, this could all go to hell in an instant. But for now…

For now, I let myself imagine.

I remembered my human life as a series of unfortunate events. It had been a wretched, constant struggle. My parents were dirt poor, and I had to quit school at fifteen to work at a coal mine with my old man. Then the war came. They called it the Great War, the war to end all wars. They lied. It was hell on earth, and I was in the middle of it, fighting for a country that forgot about me the moment I returned, my lungs burned by mustard gas, my skin blistered and scarred. I couldn’t pay rent for long, and ended up roaming the streets, begging for scraps, sleeping in ditches, a forgotten soldier in a country that had moved on. Then I died. Alone, forgotten. Like a stray dog no one wanted.

Becoming a Grim Reaper wasn’t exactly what I’d call a dream job, but it was a job, nonetheless. A purpose. Someone had to do it – usher the souls of the departed to whatever awaited them on the other side. The problem was that the more souls I ushered, the more I saw of humanity – the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. All the love and loss, hope and despair wore me down, chipped away at my soul. I saw empires crumble, illness ravage the cities, wars that seemed to have no end. And through it all, humans, for all their flaws, kept stumbling on.

A depressing thought, really.

But Millie… She was different. There was a light in her, a spark of something rare and precious, a purity of spirit I hadn’t encountered in… Well, in a very long time. Even when she was afraid, even when nightmares clung to her, she radiated goodness. It was in the way she cared for her little sister, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her parents, the way she offered me tea and biscuits as if I were a normal guest and not a creature of dread in a black cloak.

It pissed me off, knowing what awaited her. Ma-Vasha – the soul-sucking parasite – was going to devour Millie’s essence, leaving behind… what? An empty shell? It made my bones ache – this helplessness. I was a Grim Reaper, for God’s sake! I’d faced down demons, argued with deities, and here I was, sitting on a goddamn sofa, watching this woman sleep and feeling…

Feeling what? Protective? Possessive?

It didn’t matter. She was doomed. And I was a hypocrite, a creature of death clinging to the fleeting warmth of a life that wasn’t mine to save.

Hours later, the light of dawn slipped through the curtains where they hadn’t been properly closed, painting the room in soft hues of pink and gold. Millie stirred beside me, stretching like a cat waking from a nap, her spine arching, those long limbs moving with an effortless grace. It was all I could do not to stare.

“Oh,” she mumbled, blinking those beautiful eyes of hers, now clear and bright. She looked around, her gaze finally landing on me. A blush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate rose. “Grim?”

“Morning,” I grunted.

“I actually slept,” she said, surprised. “Can you believe it? No nightmares.”

“Good,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably next to her.

“I can’t believe you stayed up all night, watching over me,” she said, her gaze fixed on me. “You must be exhausted.”

“I don’t sleep,” I said. Grim Reapers didn’t sleep. Ever.

“Right,” she said, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Silly me. Forgetting you’re not… well, not exactly human.”

The words hung in the air between us. I wasn’t human. Not anymore. And every fiber of my being screamed at me to put distance between us before she saw too much, felt too much, before she realized what a monster I truly was.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you’re different, but sometimes I forget.”

She was leaning towards me now, her hand reaching out, hesitating before it landed on my chest, right where my heart would have been if I still had one. I should have moved away, but her touch was like a jolt of electricity shooting through my non-existent nerves. I sucked in a breath, even though I didn’t need it, and her scent once again filled my senses, making my head spin.

“Millie,” I murmured her name like a warning.

She didn’t seem to hear me. Her hand lingered, her thumb tracing a slow, unconscious circle on my chest, her touch searing through the layers of magic and shadow that held me together.

Beneath her touch, I felt too much. The phantom thrum of a heartbeat echoed in my chest, a warmth spread through my limbs, settling low in my stomach – a place where I hadn’t felt anything in a century. A dizzying, terrifying sense of want surged through me, leaving me reeling.

I jerked back as if burned, finally putting distance between us. The movement was so sudden, so violent, that Millie’s eyes widened in alarm.

“What...?” she started to say.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, didn’t trust myself not to reach for her, to pull her close and do something stupid. Something reckless.

I had to get out of here.

Millie reached for me again, and her hand clasped my cloak. I knew this was wrong. I’d told her to never touch my cloak, but here I was, unable to stop her. I should’ve jumped to my feet and reinforced my own rules – don’t touch the cloak, don’t touch the scythe. But this woman could disarm me with a look, and her touch was simply something else. It made me feel powerless.

Chapter Eight

Millie

“Grim, wait,” I said, my fingers tightening on his cloak. The rough fabric felt cool in my fist. “I think your cloak helped. I haven’t slept that well in ages. Not one nightmare.”

He stiffened, his skeletal frame seeming to shrink in on itself, as if my touch pained him. “Millie, we talked about this. Don’t touch the–”

“But I think it kept the Poppets out,” I insisted. “It was like they couldn’t reach me, not with your cloak around me.”

He sat back down beside me. “When I became a reaper, Death gave me three things. The cloak, the scythe, and… something else.”

“Something else?” I prodded, curious.

He shook his head. “I can’t talk about it. Let’s just say it’s a secret.”

“Mysterious,” I teased, unable to stop a small smile from playing on my lips. “A man of mystery. A Grim Reaper with secrets. I never...”

“Don’t,” he growled, even as a flicker of amusement danced in the depths of his empty sockets.

“Don’t what?” I pressed, enjoying his discomfort a little too much.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he muttered.

“And what, pray tell, is so hard about it?” I challenged, my fingers toying with the edge of his cloak. The fabric felt alive, thrumming with energy.

“This,” he said, his empty eye sockets boring into me. “Us. Being this close. You, wrapped in my…” He trailed off, as if suddenly at a loss for words.

Oh, right. That. I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me.

“What? Don’t tell me you never had a woman sleep under your cloak before,” I teased, unable to resist pushing his buttons a little. “It’s okay, you can tell me. Your secrets are safe with me.”

“We’re not having this conversation, Millie,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked, unable to keep the laughter from my voice. “Afraid I’ll tell the lady reapers that you have a thing for human women? That you prefer a good cup of tea and a chat to reaping souls and whatever else you do in your spare time?”

He didn’t answer. I could tell by the set of his jaw, the way he kept clenching and unclenching his skeletal hands, that he was struggling to maintain his composure. Which, of course, only made me want to tease him more.

“It’s okay,” I said, softening my tone, my hand reaching out to touch his arm. I stopped just short of making contact. “We’re friends here.”

“Friends?” The single word, spoken in his raspy voice, seemed to crackle with an emotion I couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” I said, surprised by the sudden intensity in his gaze. “Friends. What else would we be?”

A flicker of something dark and unreadable crossed his skeletal features. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“Never mind,” he muttered, turning away. “What do I know about friends?”

Seeing him like this, so vulnerable, was like a punch to my gut. The playful banter died on my lips, replaced by a wave of sympathy so strong it nearly took my breath away.

“Grim,” I said softly, my hand finding his arm, letting my fingers rest on the rough fabric of his sleeve. “Talk to me. What’s it like? I mean, being a reaper?”

He tensed under my touch, his whole body going rigid. But he didn’t pull away.

“It’s…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words, his empty sockets fixed on someplace beyond the walls of the house. “It wasn’t always like this.”

“What do you mean?” I knew so little about him, about what he was, what he did. “You weren’t always a reaper?”

“No,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I used to be human. A long time ago.”

I tried to imagine him as a human, with flesh and blood, and a heartbeat. It was impossible. He was Grim. My Grim Reaper. The creature of darkness who haunted my house, protected my dreams.

“What was your life like? Was there any woman–”

“No.”

“No?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice. “Never? Not even one?”

He let out a harsh laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “What would a woman want with someone like me? Even then?”

“What do you mean, even then?”

He hesitated again. I had a feeling I was treading on dangerous ground.

“My life was hard, and I wasn’t exactly husband material.”

I frowned, studying him more closely. Underneath the cloak, underneath the magic and shadow that held him together, there was a sadness, a loneliness that resonated with something deep inside me.

“Everyone’s husband material for someone,” I said.

He turned to face me, his head tilting slightly, as if considering me for the first time. “Is that so?”

“It’s what I believe...”

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with tension. The silence was broken by my sister’s voice. I was suddenly reminded we weren’t alone in the house.

“Millie!”

I rose to my feet just as Elysia came bounding into the living room, her pink princess nightgown trailing behind her like a cloud of cotton candy. She raced towards me, her big blue eyes – so much like my own – shining with excitement.

“Millie, Millie! When are we going to see Lady Mews?” She launched herself at me, her small arms wrapping around my waist.

“We?” Grim’s voice, a low rumble, startled both of us.

Elysia jumped back, her eyes darting towards the window where Grim now stood. How had he moved so fast? Then Elysia exhaled, as if remembering that he was here and he was safe. Just a guest. A friend, like I’d told Grim earlier, even though I didn’t quite believe it myself.

“We’re going to see Lady Mews today, right?” Elysia looked back and forth between me and Grim, her brow furrowed in confusion.

I forced a smile. “We are, sweetie. This afternoon. Just me and Grim, though.”

“But why can’t I come?” Elysia’s lower lip trembled. “I want to see Lady Mews, too.”

My heart ached for her. It wasn’t fair. “I know, honey, but remember what I told you. There’s a nasty virus going around. It’s best if you stay home and rest.”

“But I haven’t been outside in three days,” Elysia wailed, her voice cracking with the effort of holding back tears. “It’s not fair!”

“I know it’s tough,” I said. “But trust me, it’s for the best. We don’t want you getting sick, do we?”

“But–”

“Besides,” I interrupted her, pulling my best distraction tactic, “Who wants to help me make pancakes for breakfast?”

Elysia’s eyes widened a fraction. “Pancakes? Can we have strawberries?”

I smiled. It was amazing how easily distracted an eight-year-old could be, especially when pancakes were involved. “Of course. Strawberries and whipped cream.”

She grinned. “Yay!” Then grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the kitchen.

An hour later, the remnants of breakfast were cleared away, Elysia was happily ensconced upstairs with her coloring books, and Grim and I were alone in the silent kitchen.

“You’re lying to her.” Grim stated, his voice flat. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with those disconcertingly empty sockets.

I turned away from him to busy myself with refilling the coffee maker. “I’m trying to keep her away from the things that are stalking the house.”

“You dismissed the staff because of the Poppets?” he asked.

“Of course.” I met his gaze, surprised by the question. “What do you think? That being waited on hand and foot was more important to me than their safety?”

He shrugged. “Not many people would put their staff’s safety above their own.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “But it’s not their problem to deal with. Besides,” I added, my voice softening, “I kind of like having the place to myself. Just me and Elysia.”

“Right,” he said, that unnerving gaze fixed on me.

I shifted uncomfortably beneath his scrutiny. “Anyway, we need to get going. The appointment at the pet hospital is at noon.”

“We could teleport,” he offered, his voice casual, as if suggesting a stroll in the garden rather than doing something that defied the laws of physics.

I shuddered. “No. No teleporting, please. I’d rather drive. I need to feel something normal for a change. Okay?”

He tilted his head. “If you’re sure…”

“I am. Give me ten minutes. I need to take a quick shower and change.”

He nodded. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

I hurried upstairs, my mind a tangled mess of Poppets, Elysia, Lady Mews, and the impossible feeling that the Grim Reaper and I were developing something akin to friendship. Or more.

God help me. This was madness.

Chapter Nine

Grim

I paced the driveway, the gravel crunching under my boots. Millie’s car was out front. The Bentley sparkled in the morning sun, a symbol of a life I could barely comprehend. A good life. At least it had been before all this.

Out of the corner of my eye socket, I saw the Poppets scurrying back into the shadows, quick and silent as spiders. They were always here, lurking just out of sight, watching, waiting. They didn’t scare me. Not really. Not the way they scared Millie.

I shifted my weight, my bones groaning in protest. Millie had said she only needed ten minutes, but it had been half an hour already. I hated waiting. It gave a reaper too much time to think. And thinking about her was a bad idea.

She’d asked if there’d ever been a woman back when I was human. I’d told her no. Easier that way. The truth was I couldn’t remember. There had been someone, but all I got when I thought about her was a faint voice, a flash of brown hair… but that was it. Not even a name. It felt like a lifetime ago, like watching someone else’s memories flicker across an old projector screen. A lot had happened in the century since I died and became a reaper. I’d forgotten things, forgotten how to feel, what it was like to want something – or someone – so badly that my bones ached.

Millie was bringing it all back – the feeling, the wanting, the aching. It was like a part of me I thought had died with my mortal form was waking up, and it scared the hell out of me.

The front door opened, snapping my thoughts back to the present. Millie stood there, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, sunglasses perched on top of her head. She wore a simple white blouse and a tight pair of jeans that did things to a reaper’s anatomy that shouldn’t have been possible.

“Ready?” she asked.

I nodded, pushing away the thoughts, the memories, the feelings that threatened to overwhelm me. Not now. There would be time for that later. Maybe. If there was a later.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Millie gave me a quick, searching look, like she was trying to figure me out. Good luck with that, sweetheart. I barely understood myself these days.

She turned and headed towards the car. I stayed close, my senses on high alert. Even if the Poppets had retreated into the shadows, I could feel their presence. They wouldn’t give up that easily.

I helped Millie into the car. It felt awkward – this small act of courtesy. But she seemed to appreciate it. Something about the way she smiled up at me – a flash of white teeth and grateful blue eyes – made me want to do things I never should. I shut the door behind her and rounded the car to the passenger’s side.

Getting into the car was like stuffing a corpse into a coffin. Not that I was speaking from personal experience. My cloak snagged on the door handle, and my scythe, which I insisted on keeping up front this time, dug into my ribs. I didn’t need to breathe, obviously, but I imagined it would have been damned uncomfortable if I did. Millie didn’t seem to notice my struggles, or if she did, she was polite enough not to comment. She had other things on her mind. Poppets, for one. And dying.

The drive to the pet hospital was strange. I’d been in cars before. Plenty of them. But this was different. This time, it wasn’t just about getting from point A to point B. This time, there was something else. A weird sort of anticipation. Dread, maybe.

When we arrived, the smell of disinfectant hit me like a punch to the gut. Memories, unwelcome and sharp, flickered at the edges of my consciousness. Hospitals. Battlefields. The stench of death clinging to everything. I shoved the memories down, where they belonged. It was odd they were getting to me now, in a pet hospital, when I was used to human hospitals thanks to my job. Today was a weird day.

The vet was a cheerful, round-faced woman with a shock of red hair and kind eyes. She reminded me of someone’s aunt, someone who’d bake cookies and tell stories about the good old days. Not that I knew anyone like that.

“And here she is, our little patient!” The vet held up a small, furry bundle.

Lady Mews, swathed in bandages and looking slightly dazed, blinked at us with green eyes. Her leg, which had been shattered by a car, was encased in a bright pink cast. It looked ridiculous, but cute, I had to admit.

Millie gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh, Lady Mews! Look at you!”

The sound that came out of the cat was a barely audible purr, and I felt something shift inside me. The surge of affection for a creature I was seeing for the first time surprised me. There was something about this cat, something about the relief on Millie’s face as she stroked Lady Mews’s head, that got to me. This wasn’t just any cat; any stray Millie had picked up on a whim. This was Elysia’s cat. And Elysia was Millie’s world. I understood why Millie was so desperate to save this animal. Elysia was going to lose her big sister soon, so she needed Lady Mews to be okay, at least.

“She’s doing remarkably well,” the vet was saying. “The surgery was a success. She’s putting weight on the leg already.”

“So, when can I take her home? Elysia misses her terribly.”

“Well,” the vet hesitated. “Another week here, just to be safe. Make sure there’s no infection.”

“A week?” Millie’s face fell.

The vet smiled. “I understand. It’s hard being away from a beloved pet. But trust me, it’s for the best. We’ll take good care of her here.”

“All right,” Millie said. “A week it is.”

“You can take her home for the second week of recovery. The cast will be off by then.”

The vet left us alone with the cat for a few minutes. Millie talked to Lady Mews in that high-pitched voice humans reserved for small, furry creatures, telling her all about Elysia and how much she was missed. I just watched and listened, the ghostly flutter in my chest growing. Watching her with the cat, seeing the love in her eyes, the fierce determination to shield Elysia from any more pain… It made me realize how much was at stake.

“We should get going.” The words came out harsher than I intended. “Don’t want your sister to be alone too long.”

Turning away from Lady Mews, Millie pulled her sunglasses from the top of her head and put them on. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Her voice was subdued, her smile gone. I opened the door for her, my cloak brushing against her arm. She didn’t flinch, and that made me feel hopeful, not a feeling I could say I was familiar with.

I felt it the moment we stepped outside. Something wasn’t right. The air, normally filled with the hum of traffic and distant sirens, was eerily silent. Even the birds had stopped singing. The parking lot, half-full when we’d arrived, was deserted. Not a single car, not a single soul in sight. Except for us.

And them.

Millie, oblivious to the lurking danger, walked towards her car, keys jingling in her hand.

“Millie, wait!”

It was too late. They were already here, materializing out of the shadows, three figures that looked grotesquely wrong. Poppets. They moved with unnatural speed, their limbs blurring, their eyes glowing. The raw hunger radiating from them was palpable, a tangible thing that made the air crackle with dark energy. I moved without thinking.

One moment, I was rooted to the spot, the next I was airborne, a blur of darkness against the blue sky. I landed between Millie and the Poppets, my cloak billowing around me. The straw creatures were upon us in a heartbeat, their movements jerky and disjointed, like dolls with their strings tangled. One lunged, its clay-caked fingers outstretched, reaching for Millie like she was a tasty morsel. I swung my scythe, its edge a silver arc in the sunlight. There was a sickening thud as the blade connected with the creature. The Poppet crumpled to the ground, a pile of straw and splintered clay.

“Get back!” I told Millie.

She stood frozen, her eyes wide with terror, the car keys slipping from her grasp. She didn’t need to see this. No one did.

The remaining two Poppets hesitated, startled. These things weren’t known for their intelligence, though, so they weren’t going to run. They were driven by Ma-Vasha’s will, fueled by a hunger that knew no bounds. And right now, Millie was their main course.

One of them, a spindly thing with straws poking out of its clay face, let out a hiss. Not a human sound, not by a long shot. It was the sound of something old and hungry. The creature lurched forward, its movements disjointed. I didn’t give it time to get close. I stepped forward, my scythe a silver blur, and took its head clean off. The body crumpled, a pathetic heap of straw and dried herbs, the head rolling to a stop at Millie’s feet. Its single eye, a shard of obsidian pressed into the clay, stared up at her with an unnervingly lifelike intensity.

The last one, a hulking monstrosity with arms like tree trunks, charged. It moved with surprising speed for something so massive, its clay feet pounding the asphalt, its eyes fixed on Millie. I didn’t have time to think, only to react. I pivoted on my heel, out of the reach of its claws. The Poppet didn’t stop and lumbered towards me. I let it come. The Poppet roared and swung its massive arm at me. I ducked, the air whooshing past my skull, and rammed my scythe upward. The blade found its mark, splitting the creature in two from groin to sternum. It crumpled to the ground, and I stepped back as its remnants dissolved into dust.

There were more in the shadows, ready to strike. We had to get out of here.

Chapter Ten

Millie

The world snapped back into focus. The dust settled. Grim stood there, my protector, his dark form silhouetted against the bright sky. They were gone. Really gone? A shudder ran through me, a mixture of relief and terror. My keys. I needed my keys. They lay on the ground. My hand shook as I bent to pick them up, my fingers brushing against something rough and brittle. Clay. The Poppet’s face. That single, staring eye. I scrambled back, my heart pounding.

Get a grip, Millie.

Grim was already at the passenger’s side of the Bentley. I fumbled with the keys, my fingers clumsy. Finally, I managed to unlock the car, almost throwing myself into the driver’s seat. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold onto the steering wheel.

“You killed them,” I said, my voice trembling. “I didn’t know it was possible.”

“They can’t be killed because they’re not alive,” Grim said. “All I did was stop them from getting to you. For now. They will come again. Ma-Vasha can make hundreds of them if she wants.”

I took a few deep breaths, willing myself to calm down. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. Elysia needed me.

“Okay,” I said. “Okay.”

When I felt like I could at least hold the steering wheel without my hands shaking, I pulled out of the parking lot and sped towards Asterhaven. The silence in the car was heavy. What had Grim said? Hundreds? Hundreds of Poppets? I could barely handle three.

Grim didn’t pressure me to talk, which I appreciated. He just sat there, and it felt like riding with a shadow or a phantom. My thoughts were racing. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. The familiar scenery of Mercer Island whipped past, blurred and distorted by my anxiety. The stately mansions, the lush green lawns, the sparkling blue water of Lake Washington – it all seemed unreal, like a postcard from a past life.

I’d been living in a bubble, shielded by wealth and privilege. Now the bubble had burst, and there was no going back. It was all my doing. I had summoned Ma-Vasha. It was my fault. But I’d done it for a reason, and a very good one at that – because I refused to lose my sister to leukemia. If death had to take one of us, better me than her.

Elysia was waiting for me in the foyer. Her expression was a mixture of excitement and worry, her bright blue eyes wide with anticipation. She launched herself at me the moment I stepped inside, her thin arms wrapping around my waist.

“Millie! You’re back! How’s Lady Mews? Is she okay?”

I knelt, gathering her close, burying my face in her soft, dark hair. She smelled like sunshine and crayons, and everything good in the world.

“She’s doing great,” I said.

“Can she come home? Please, Millie, please. I miss her so much.”

Elysia’s words were like tiny daggers to my heart. I hated that I couldn’t give her what she wanted, that I had to make her wait, had to prolong her agony. But what choice did I have?

“The vet said she needs to stay there for a little while longer, to make sure she’s all healed up.” I pulled away, reaching into my purse for my phone. “But I took pictures! Do you want to see?”

Elysia’s face lit up. “Yes! Show me, show me!”

I scrolled through the pictures: Lady Mews curled up in her little cage, her leg in a bright pink cast, Lady Mews blinking sleepily at the camera, Lady Mews being cuddled by the vet. Elysia’s smile grew wider with each picture.

“She looks so funny with that pink cast.”

“I know, right?”

I tucked my phone back into my purse. Elysia was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought.

“I’m bored,” she announced. “Can we play a game?”

“Sure, honey,” I said, forcing a smile. “What do you feel like playing?”

“Settlers of Catan?”

“You’re sure you’re up for that?”

“Yep! I’m going to beat you this time, Millie, I know it!”

“We’ll see about that,” I said, ruffling her short hair that was starting to stick in all directions.

The next hour was a blur of dice rolls, resource cards, and competitive banter. But the joy I usually felt spending time with my little sister was gone, replaced by a gnawing anxiety that I couldn’t shake. Grim stood by the fireplace, a silent, watchful presence, his cloaked form casting long, unsettling shadows on the wall as the day wore on. At one point, Elysia tried to coax him into joining our game, but he politely declined. Grim was not one for board games. Or any kind of games, for that matter. He took his job as my bodyguard very seriously.

I tried to focus on the game, to lose myself in the strategic placement of roads and settlements, but it was no use. My mind kept drifting back to Ma-Vasha and the deal I’d made. I could feel Grim’s gaze on me, as if he could sense my unease. I tried to smile, to pretend that everything was okay, but I knew it was no use. I wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all myself.

Elysia seemed to sense my distraction. After a while, she pushed the game away.

“This is boring. I’m going to my room.”

“Okay, honey,” I said. “Get some rest.”

She nodded and trudged out of the room. I watched her go, my heart aching with a love that threatened to consume me. The moment the door to her room clicked shut, I turned to Grim, my façade crumbling.

“This isn’t right,” I whispered. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend that everything is okay when it’s not. Pretend that I’m not terrified. Pretend that I’m not going to…”

I couldn’t bring myself to say the word. Die. It was too awful, too final.

Grim took a step towards me, his skeletal hand outstretched as if to touch me, but he stopped short, his fingers curling into fists.

“Millie…”

I shook my head, willing myself to pull it together. This wasn’t me – this constant state of near hysteria. It was pathetic. Elysia needed me to be strong. Hell, I needed me to be strong.

“Forget it,” I muttered, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “How about a movie?”

Grim tilted his head, a strangely human gesture for someone who looked like he’d just stepped out of a mausoleum. “Okay.”

“Great.” I tried to sound upbeat, but it came out flat. “It’s not like we have much else to do, stuck inside.” I made a face. “This is no life, being trapped here like this. Fourteen days. An eternity.”

“It’s for the best,” Grim said. “Keeps you safe.”

“I know, I know,” I sighed. “But for what it’s worth, I’m actually glad to have these moments.” I pointed the remote at the TV, scrolling through my streaming queue. “As weird as it sounds, it almost feels normal. Like we’re a real family. Except, you know, with you being a Grim Reaper and all.”

I cringed inwardly. I really needed to work on my filter.

Grim didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t let it bother him. He just shrugged.

“Ever seen Groundhog Day?” I asked.

“No.”

“Seriously? It’s a classic!”

He just looked at me, his eyes, or rather, the dark hollows where his eyes should have been, unreadable. I shook my head.

“Okay, I don’t believe it! It’s my favorite movie, I’m putting it on. You’ll love it, I promise.”

And with that, I hit play.

We settled in on the couch, me curled up on one end, Grim at the other, a respectful distance separating us. The opening scene filled the room, and for a little while, I almost forgot about the Poppets, about Ma-Vasha, about the ticking clock counting what remained of my life. Almost.

“I love how repetitive this movie is,” I said during a particularly amusing scene where the characters were throwing snowballs.

Grim didn’t reply, but I could feel his gaze on me, curious, maybe a little amused.

“It’s like… I know what’s going to happen next, you know? Every line, every beat. It’s comforting, in a weird way. Like a security blanket. Safe.”

Safe. God, I craved safe. Like a drowning woman craved air.

“Wouldn’t mind being stuck like that myself,” I continued, my voice barely a whisper. “Going through the same day over and over again. Maybe right here, right now. With you.”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Heat crept up my neck. What was I doing? What was wrong with me?

Grim was silent, his form still in the flickering light from the television screen. I held my breath, waiting for him to say something, anything. I risked a glance in his direction, but it was too dark to make out his expression.

I needed to fix this.

I scooted closer to him, my heart pounding. I rested my head on his shoulder. I felt his hand, skeletal and cold, resting on top of mine. His touch sent a jolt through me. Our fingers intertwined, and I took it as a sign that he wasn’t mad at me.

Chapter Eleven

Grim

The movie played on, but I couldn’t focus. Millie was pressed against my side, her warmth seeping into my cold, dead bones. Her hand in mine felt like a lifeline, anchoring me to this moment, this impossible reality. My body tingled with a strange sensation, almost like pins and needles. It was as if her touch was breathing life back into me, awakening parts of myself I thought were long gone. I once again felt the phantom beat of a heart in my chest, the ghost of butterflies in my stomach.

I wanted to ask her what this meant, what we were doing… But fear held my tongue. What if I broke the spell? Better to stay quiet, to let this moment stretch on forever.

When the credits rolled, Millie untangled herself from me and headed to the kitchen. I followed, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She moved around the kitchen with ease, her bare feet padding softly on the tile floor. Her hair cascaded down her back in dark waves, catching the light as she bent to retrieve a casserole from the fridge.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her. It was such a simple scene – a woman making dinner – but it stirred something deep within me. A longing for normalcy, for domesticity. Things I’d given up on long ago. For a moment, I let myself imagine a different life. One where I wasn’t a century-old reaper, where she wasn’t bound by a deadly bargain. Just us, in this kitchen, night after night. The routine of it, the simplicity – it was intoxicating.

But I knew better than to hope. Hope was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not in my line of work. Not with what was coming for Millie. Still, as I watched her hum softly to herself while she worked, I couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through me. This feeling was dangerous, but I was powerless to stop it.

“Elysia, dinner’s ready!” Millie called out, her voice echoing through the house.

I heard the patter of small feet on the stairs before Elysia burst into the kitchen, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Can I help set the table?” she asked.

“Of course, sweetie,” Millie replied, handing her a stack of plates.

As they bustled around, setting the table in the dining room, Millie glanced over at me.

“Grim, why don’t you join us? Even if you don’t eat...”

I shook my head. “I appreciate the offer, but I should patrol outside for a bit.”

Elysia’s forehead creased in confusion. “Why is Grim here anyway? And why does he need to patrol?”

Millie’s smile faltered for a moment. “Don’t worry about it, honey. It’s just grown-up stuff.”

“That’s not fair!” Elysia protested, her voice rising. “Adults always keep things from kids. We’re not stupid, you know.”

“I know you’re not stupid,” Millie sighed. “Just... eat your food, okay?”

I slipped out the door, leaving them to their meal. The night air was cool against my bones as I began my patrol around the estate. It didn’t take long to spot the Poppets. They lurked in every shadow, their clay bodies barely visible in the darkness. They saw me, too. As I approached, they retreated, melting back into the night. This was going to be a long night. But strangely, I found myself looking forward to it. Not because I enjoyed playing cat and mouse with soulless clay dolls, but because of what came after.

When the patrol was done, I’d return to Millie. I’d wrap my cloak around her, shielding her from the nightmares that plagued her, keeping the Poppets from invading her mind. And in those quiet hours before dawn, I’d hold her close, feeling more alive than I had in a century.

It was a dangerous game I was playing. Getting attached to a human never ended well, especially not one marked for death. But as I circled the estate, my thoughts kept drifting back to her. To the warmth of her hand in mine, the weight of her head on my shoulder.

I rounded a corner and came face to face with a Poppet. It stood there, unmoving, its lifeless eyes fixed on me. For a moment, we stared at each other, a standoff between death and something that had never truly been alive. Then the Poppet backed away, one step at a time, until it disappeared behind a tall rose bush. I considered following it, but what was the point? Millie needed me by her side.

I went back into the house, the familiar silence enveloping me. The patrol had been uneventful, save for that one Poppet who’d decided to have a staring contest with me. As I moved through the darkened hallways, a soft glow from the living room caught my attention.

Millie was there, curled up on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. The house was quiet, which meant Elysia had gone to bed. Millie looked up as I entered, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Hey,” she said. “How was the patrol?”

“Boring,” I replied, moving closer. “The Poppets are keeping their distance for now.”

She nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “That’s good, I guess.” She paused, then asked, “What’s your favorite movie, Grim?”

The question caught me off guard. It had been a long time since anyone had asked me about my preferences. “The Gold Rush,” I answered after a moment’s thought.

She raised an eyebrow. “Charlie Chaplin?”

“Yeah,” I said. “The one with the shoe.” I almost smiled, remembering the image of Chaplin eating his own boot with such gusto.

“Really?” Millie patted the spot beside her. “Come on, sit. Let’s watch it together.”

I hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to her. Millie leaned forward, searching for the movie on her streaming services. As she scrolled, I caught a whiff of her shampoo – floral and light.

“Found it!” she exclaimed, pressing play. She settled back onto the couch, tucking her legs under her and pressing close to my side. The opening credits rolled, and I felt a strange tightness in my chest.

As the movie played, I found myself not watching the screen, but Millie’s reactions. Her eyes lit up at the slapstick comedy, her lips curved into a smile at the tender moments. It was like seeing the film through new eyes. But about halfway through, Millie’s head drooped onto my shoulder. Her breathing evened out, and I realized she was falling asleep. Carefully, I shifted to cover her shoulders with my cloak. She snuggled closer, murmuring something unintelligible.

I couldn’t help but smile. Silent movies weren’t for everyone, especially not in this age of constant stimulation. But there was something pure about them, something that spoke to the human condition without needing words. As the familiar scenes played out, my mind drifted back to 1925, when I first saw this film. I was a different man then – or rather, still a man. The war had left me scarred and struggling, but I was alive. Barely scraping by, but alive.

I remembered saving pennies for weeks, going without meals just to afford a ticket. The theater was a respite from the harsh realities of my life. For an hour and a half, I wasn’t a disfigured veteran begging for work. I was just another face in the crowd, laughing along with everyone else. That day was the last good memory I had before everything fell apart. The room I’d been renting went to someone who could pay more. With nowhere to go, I ended up on the streets. My war injuries made me a frightening sight to most, and no one was willing to give me a chance. Two long, brutal years passed. I watched as society moved on, leaving behind those of us who’d given everything to our country. The irony wasn’t lost on me – I’d survived mustard gas only to die of exposure and hunger on the streets of the country I’d fought for.

And then, just when I thought it was all over, I got a job offer. From Death.

It was a hell of a career change, going from homeless veteran to Grim Reaper, but Death didn’t care about my scars or my past. They only cared that I could do the job.

A soft snore from Millie brought me back to the present. She was drooling slightly on my cloak, but I didn’t mind. There was something comforting about her presence, about the warmth of her body against my cold form.

On screen, the Little Tramp was dancing with his dream girl, blissfully unaware that it was just a fantasy. I felt a pang in my chest, recognizing the longing in his eyes. How long had it been since I’d allowed myself to dream like that?

Millie shifted in her sleep, her hand finding mine. Her fingers intertwined with my bony ones, and I felt that strange tingling sensation again. It was as if her touch was bringing me back to life, one cell at a time.

The movie played on, but I barely noticed. I was lost in thought, remembering the man I used to be and wondering about the man – if one could call me that – I’d become. Had I changed as much as I thought? Or was there still a trace of that hopeful young soldier buried deep inside me?

Chapter Twelve

Millie

I woke up with a start, blinking away the haze of sleep. The credits were rolling on the TV screen, the black and white text a blur to my tired eyes. Grim was beside me, and I was tucked safely under his cloak.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I mumbled.

I stumbled to my feet, the world tilting slightly as I made my way to the bathroom. The cold tile under my bare feet helped wake me up a bit. As I washed my hands, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, and there was a faint imprint on my cheek from where I’d been leaning against Grim’s cloak.

On my way back to the living room, something caught my eye. A face in the window. I froze, my heart skipping a beat. It couldn’t be... Could it? I stepped closer, my hand reaching out to pull back the curtain.

Mom.

She was there, just outside, looking at me with those warm eyes I’d missed so much. A lump formed in my throat, and before I knew what I was doing, I was running. I barely registered Grim’s surprised shout as I bolted past him and out the front door.

The night air was cool against my skin, but I hardly noticed. All I could focus on was Mom, walking away from me. I followed, my feet carrying me across the damp grass without a second thought.

“Mom!” I called out, but she didn’t turn around. She just kept walking, leading me towards the rose garden.

The sweet scent of roses filled the air as I entered the garden. Mom finally stopped, her back to me. My heart was pounding, a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“Mom?” I said softly. “Is it really you?”

She turned around slowly. It wasn’t Mom. It wasn’t even human. The thing that faced me was a grotesque imitation of my mother, its features molded from clay and straw. A Poppet.

I wanted to run, to scream, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I was rooted to the spot, terror coursing through my veins. The Poppet reached out towards me with its straw claws, its lifeless eyes fixed on me. Just as I thought it was going to grab me, there was a rush of air, and suddenly Grim was there. He appeared between me and the Poppet as if by magic, his cloak billowing around him. In one fluid motion, Grim swung his scythe, and the Poppet split in two. The halves fell to the ground with a dull thud, twitching before going still.

I stood there, shaking, trying to process what had just happened. The Poppet’s face – my mom’s face – stared up at me from the ground, its eyes empty and glassy.

Grim’s bony hands shook me gently, and I blinked, slowly coming back to reality. The weight of what had just happened crashed over me, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Without a word, Grim scooped me into his arms, cradling me against his chest as he carried me back inside the house.

Once we were in the living room, he set me down on the couch, his dark eye sockets fixed on me with concern.

“I can’t believe I fell for that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I miss them so much, Grim. Mom and Dad. When I saw her face, I couldn’t help myself.”

Grim nodded, his skeletal features softening somehow. “The Poppets are crafty creatures. They prey on your deepest desires and fears.”

“I had no idea they could look like... like people we love.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “It felt so real for a moment.”

“That’s what makes them dangerous,” Grim said. “They use your emotions against you.”

I wiped my eyes, trying to pull myself together. “I’m sorry for running out like that. I should’ve known better.”

Grim shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re grieving, Millie. It’s natural to want to see them again.”

His words were comforting, especially coming from a being who dealt with death on a daily basis. I managed to smile.

“Thanks, Grim. For understanding. And for saving me out there.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” he replied, and I could’ve sworn I heard a hint of warmth in his voice. “Would you like some tea? It might help calm your nerves.”

“That would be nice, thank you,” I said, surprised by the offer.

Grim nodded and headed towards the kitchen. I followed, curious to see how a Grim Reaper would go about making tea. I leaned against the doorframe and watched him move around. His movements were stiff and awkward, like he wasn’t used to doing such mundane tasks. He opened and closed several cabinets before finding the mugs, then spent a good minute examining the tea kettle as if it were some alien artifact.

“The kettle’s electric,” I said, trying to hide my amusement. “You just need to plug it in and flip the switch.”

Grim looked at me, then back at the kettle. “Right,” he said, sounding slightly embarrassed. He fumbled with the cord for a moment before successfully plugging it in.

As we waited for the water to boil, I found myself studying Grim. It was strange seeing this powerful, otherworldly being struggling with something as simple as making tea. But it was also endearing. Five minutes later, I sat at the kitchen table cradling a warm mug of tea in my hands. Grim took the seat across from me, his dark eye sockets fixed on me.

“Thanks for the tea,” I said, taking a small sip. The warmth spread through me, calming my frayed nerves.

Grim nodded. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” I admitted. I hesitated, then decided to tell him the truth. “There’s something I need to tell you about the Poppets.”

He leaned forward, his bony fingers interlaced on the table. “What is it?”

I took a deep breath. “They... they talk to me sometimes.”

“Talk to you?” Grim’s voice was sharp with surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I hear their voices in my head,” I explained. “Usually at night, when I’m trying to sleep. But tonight, when I saw that Poppet outside...”

“It spoke to you?”

I nodded. “It told me something... something only my mom knew.”

Grim was silent for a moment. “That’s why you followed it.”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I knew it couldn’t really be her, but... I had to know how it knew that.”

“They can get inside your head, use your memories against you. You can’t trust anything they say or show you.”

“I know,” I replied. “But it felt so real. For a moment, I really thought...”

“That your mother was back,” Grim finished for me.

I nodded, feeling tears prick at my eyes again. “I miss her so much, Grim. Both of them. Sometimes, it feels like there’s this huge hole in my life, and nothing can fill it.”

Grim reached out, his bony hand hovering over mine for a moment before pulling back. “Grief is complicated. Even for someone like me, who deals with death every day.”

I looked at him, curious. “Do you ever get used to it? Seeing people die, I mean.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “No,” he finally said. “You’d think after a century, it would get easier. But every life is unique. Every death leaves its mark.”

His words made me think about my own impending death. The deal I’d made with Ma-Vasha. Would Grim be the one to reap me when the time came?

“What’s it like being a Grim Reaper?”

Grim tilted his head, considering. “It’s a duty. A responsibility. We guide souls to their next destination. It’s not always easy, but it’s necessary.”

“Do you ever wish you could go back? To being human, I mean.”

His skeletal features seemed to soften. “Sometimes. But this is who I am now. There’s no going back.”

I nodded, understanding. We all had things in our past we couldn’t change. Secrets we carried with us. As I sat there, sipping my tea and talking with Grim, my mind wandered to the secret I’d been carrying for so long. The truth about Elysia. Now, with my parents gone, I was the only one who knew...

Part of me wanted to tell Grim. To share this burden with someone else. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t just my secret to tell. It would change everything for Elysia, and I couldn’t do that to her. Not now, not ever.

Grim’s dark eye sockets seemed to bore into me as he leaned forward, his bony fingers tapping on the table.

“Millie,” he said, his voice low, “I think I know how the Poppets got that information about your mother.”

I wrapped my hands tighter around my mug, the warmth seeping into my palms. “How?”

“They’ve been digging into your mind,” Grim explained, his words sending a chill down my spine. “These creatures are more invasive than we thought. They can access your memories, your deepest thoughts.”

My stomach dropped. The idea of those things rifling through my head, seeing my most private moments made me feel sick.

“So, they know... everything?”

Grim nodded slowly. “Potentially. This makes them far more dangerous than we initially believed.”

I slumped back in my chair. It was too much. The deal with Ma-Vasha, the threat to Elysia, and now this invasion of my mind.

“This is horrible,” I whispered. “I don’t know how much more I can take. I should just end it now. It’s going to happen anyway.”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, a moment of weakness I instantly regretted. Grim’s reaction was immediate and intense.

“Please don’t talk like that,” he said, his voice sharp with what sounded like genuine concern. It caught me off guard, hearing such emotion from the usually stoic Grim Reaper.

I looked up at him, surprised by the intensity in his eye sockets. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean... I just feel so overwhelmed.”

Grim reached across the table, his hand hesitating for a moment before gently resting on mine. His touch was cool and strange.

“I know this is difficult,” he said. “But you’re stronger than you realize, Millie. I’ve seen it. And you’re not alone in this.”

His words warmed something inside me – a tiny spark of hope in the darkness.

Chapter Thirteen

Grim

I looked into Millie’s blue eyes, and something inside me shifted. It wasn’t the usual detachment I felt when dealing with clients. This was different. Deeper. More intense. For a moment, I forgot what I was. The years of death and suffering faded away, and I felt almost human. The urge to protect her wasn’t just about fulfilling a contract anymore. It was personal.

I wanted her to be mine.

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. If I still had a stomach, it would’ve been doing backflips. Instead, I felt a strange tingling where my heart used to be. It was ridiculous. I was a Grim Reaper, for crying out loud! We didn’t do feelings. We didn’t do attachments.

But here I was, imagining a future with Millie. A future that couldn’t exist.

Reality came crashing back, cold and harsh. In less than two weeks, Millie would be gone, her soul devoured by Ma-Vasha. And I’d be left here, alone again, just like always.

I’d seen countless lives end. I’d guided souls to their final destinations. But this... This was different. The thought of Millie’s light being snuffed out, her warmth and kindness consumed by that soul-eating monster… It made me want to rage against the universe.

I squeezed Millie’s hand, a newfound determination coursing through me. The sensation of her warm flesh against my cold bones sent a jolt through my entire being.

“You cannot die.”

Millie smiled bitterly. There was resignation in her eyes. The sight made my chest ache.

“A deal is a deal, Grim. That’s the first rule, isn’t it? I have to drink Ma-Vasha’s poison. There’s no way around it.”

Her words ignited a spark of rebellion within me. Rules had governed my existence for so long, but now they felt suffocating, restrictive.

“Forget about the first rule. It’s stupid,” I said, surprising myself with the vehemence in my voice. The strength of my own emotions caught me off guard.

“But no one can negotiate with Ma-Vasha,” Millie argued. “You know that.”

I leaned forward, my empty eye sockets fixed on her. The urge to protect her, to shield her from this fate, was overwhelming.

“I’ll find a way to get you out of this deal.”

“How?” Millie asked. The vulnerability in her tone made me want to wrap her in my cloak and hide her from the world.

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted, feeling a twinge of frustration at my own helplessness. “But I’ll find a way.”

Millie’s brow furrowed. “Why do you even want to help me? Your job is just to guard me for two weeks and then move on.”

The question caught me off guard. Why did I want to help her? I’d seen countless people die, guided innumerable souls to their final rest. What made Millie different? I searched within myself, trying to understand the depth of my own feelings.

“Because you’re too good to die,” I said, the words feeling inadequate as soon as I spoke them. “And because your sister needs you.”

Millie’s eyes widened. The mention of her sister seemed to touch something inside her.

“But people die all the time,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to our intertwined hands. “Good people, bad people. It doesn’t matter in the end, does it?”

I sighed, a habit from my human days that I’d never quite shaken. The weight of a century’s worth of deaths pressed down on me.

“You’re right. Death doesn’t discriminate. I’ve seen saints and sinners alike cross over. But this is different.”

“How?”

I struggled to find the words, to articulate the feelings that were so foreign to me after decades of emotional detachment.

“In my line of work, you see a lot of endings,” I said slowly, each word carefully chosen. “Some peaceful, some violent. Some expected, some not. But yours feels wrong. Like a story cut short before its time.”

Millie’s hand tightened around mine. “But that’s life, isn’t it? Sometimes stories end too soon.”

Her acceptance of her fate only strengthened my resolve.

“Maybe,” I said. “But not this time. Not if I can help it.” The promise felt heavy, but I meant every word. For the first time in a century, I was ready to fight against the very nature of my existence.

I couldn’t believe I’d just made such a huge promise to Millie. What was I thinking? I had no clue how to save her from Ma-Vasha. It was like promising to lasso the moon.

But as I looked at her, those doubts faded away. Her raven hair caught the artificial light from the mini chandelier above us, framing her face like a halo. Those blue eyes, usually so full of life, now held a mix of hope and fear that tugged at something deep inside me. Her pale skin seemed almost translucent, reminding me of her fragility. How could someone so vibrant, so full of kindness, be destined for such a cruel fate?

I knew then that I’d move heaven and earth for her. If it came down to it, I’d trade my immortality for her life in a heartbeat. If that was even possible. The rules of my existence were murky at best, but for Millie, I’d find a way.

Millie stood up and rounded the kitchen table. Before I could process what was happening, she gently lowered herself onto my lap. I froze, not knowing how to react. This beautiful, warm-blooded woman was willingly getting close to me, a walking corpse held together by magic and darkness. It didn’t make sense.

She placed her hands on my shoulders, the warmth of her touch seeping through my cloak. Then, she leaned in and pressed her lips to my cheek. The kiss was chaste, but it felt like a jolt of electricity throughout my entire being. For a moment, I could swear I felt a heartbeat in my chest. A ghost of a pulse thrummed through my body, awakening sensations I thought long dead. It was as if every cell in my body suddenly remembered what it was like to be alive. The feeling was overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity. I wanted to pull her closer and push her away at the same time. I was a creature of death, and she was so vibrantly alive. The contrast was huge, yet somehow, it felt right.

As quickly as it began, it was over. Millie stood up and walked to the sink, leaving me reeling from the experience. I watched her rinse her cup, trying to process what had just happened. But the fact of the matter was I couldn’t. It was obvious why I was attracted to her, but there was simply no explanation for why she would be attracted to me. It was better if I didn’t think about it and just enjoyed it, then tucked this moment of intimacy away in my memory, so I could relieve it for as long as I roamed the earth.

As we waited for dawn to break, Millie and I watched another movie. She couldn’t sleep, understandably, so we stayed awake together. The flickering light from the TV cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the worry lines that had formed over the past few days. I found myself stealing glances at her more often than I cared to admit.

When the first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, I stood up from the couch and grabbed my scythe. It was time to get to work.

“I need you to stay inside until I return,” I said. “You and Elysia should lock all the doors, cover the windows, and don’t even think about looking outside.”

She nodded, her blue eyes wide with concern. “How will you get back in?”

“I’ll teleport,” I explained. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Right,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. “I forgot you could do that.”

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of... something. Pride? Amusement? It was strange to think that my abilities could impress someone like Millie.

“What’s your plan?” she asked.

I paused, considering my words carefully. “To find the answer to one simple question: how do I keep you alive?”

The weight of my promise hung heavy in the air. I saw a flicker of hope in her eyes, and it both warmed and terrified me. What if I couldn’t deliver?

“Here,” I said, pulling out my smartphone. “Take my number. Call if you need anything.”

Millie’s eyebrows shot up, a grin spreading across her face. “Wait, Grim Reapers use phones? What’s next? Do you post selfies on Instagram, too?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’d be surprised. Death has to keep up with the times, you know.”

We shared a laugh, the sound feeling foreign in the massive, silent house. As I prepared to teleport, Millie’s voice stopped me.

“Grim,” she said softly. “Be careful.”

I nodded, unable to form words around the lump in my throat. With a final look at her face, I vanished, so I could materialize someplace else – my first destination.

Chapter Fourteen

Millie

After Grim vanished, I stood there, staring at the empty space he’d just occupied. The room felt colder without his presence, despite the warm sunlight streaming through the windows. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold onto the feeling of safety he’d given me. It was strange how quickly I’d come to rely on him, to trust him. A creature of death had become my lifeline. I couldn’t shake the memory of his promise, the determination in his voice. For the first time since making the deal with Ma-Vasha, I felt a flicker of hope.

Elysia wandered into the kitchen, her bare feet padding softly against the tile floor.

“Where did Grim go?” she asked.

“He has some errands to run,” I said. “But he’ll be back later, okay?”

Elysia yawned, her eyes half-closed. “Okay,” she mumbled. “Can we watch Moana again?”

And so, our day began. We watched Moana, Elysia singing along to every song, her small voice filling the living room. I made pancakes for breakfast, her favorite, and then we played Candyland until she got bored. I tried teaching her chess, but she declared it boring after only two moves. Maybe another time.

We looked through old photo albums, laughing at pictures of us when Elysia was little. Elysia pointed at a photo of herself as a baby, her big blue eyes wide with wonder.

“I look so funny!” she giggled.

“You were such a cute baby,” I said, my heart aching with a bittersweet mix of love and regret. I traced my finger over the photo, my gaze lingering on Elysia’s tiny features.

There was a whole album dedicated to Elysia’s first year, filled with pictures of her as a newborn – swaddled in blankets, sleeping peacefully in her crib, her tiny fingers wrapped around my thumb. I flipped through the pages, a lump forming in my throat. I remembered those days so clearly, the overwhelming love, the fear, the exhaustion.

My heart skipped a beat when I reached a particular photo. It was me, holding Elysia just moments after she was born. My hair was a mess, my face pale and exhausted, but my eyes were shining with a love so fierce it could have lit up the entire world. And then it hit me. A wave of emotion so strong it nearly knocked me off my feet. I had to look away, my vision blurring with tears.

I excused myself, mumbling something about feeling tired, and hurried upstairs, leaving Elysia engrossed in her dollhouse. The photo album lay open on the coffee table, a reminder of the past I couldn’t escape. I needed to be alone.

My diary was tucked away in my nightstand drawer, its pages filled with my hopes, my fears, my darkest secrets. Secrets I’d never dared to utter aloud. Picking up my pen, I flipped to a fresh page.

I was lost in my thoughts, scribbling away in my diary, when a sound from outside caught my attention. Laughter. Elysia’s laughter.

My heart skipped a beat. I rushed to the window, my eyes scanning the rose garden below. There she was, my little sister, chasing after a bright blue butterfly. Her giggles floated up to me, carefree and innocent. But then I saw it. A Poppet, its misshapen form barely hidden behind a rose bush. My blood ran cold.

I bolted from my room, running down the stairs so fast I was in real danger of stumbling and breaking my neck. My bare feet slapped against the hardwood as I raced to the back door. I burst outside, my eyes locked on Elysia.

“Elysia!” I called.

She turned, her smile fading as she saw my expression. I scooped her up, ignoring her protests, and ran back into the house. Once inside, I set her down, my hands shaking as I locked the door. I turned to face her, my heart pounding.

“What were you thinking?” I asked, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. “I told you not to go outside!”

Elysia’s face crumpled, her lower lip trembling. “I just wanted to play,” she said.

“It’s not safe out there,” I insisted, running a hand through my hair. “You can’t just–”

“Why?” Elysia interrupted, her voice rising. “Why isn’t it safe? You keep saying there’s a virus, but I was all alone in the garden! How could I get sick like that? It makes no sense!”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What could I say?

“And why is Grim really here?” she continued, her face flushed with anger. “He’s not just a guest, is he? What’s really going on, Millie?”

I stared at her, speechless. How had she picked up on so much?

“Elysia, I–” I started, but the words died in my throat. I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t burden her with the knowledge of what I’d done and what was coming.

Elysia’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re lying to me,” she said, her voice breaking. “I hate you!” She turned and ran up the stairs, her sobs echoing through the house.

I stood there, frozen, her words ringing in my ears. “I hate you.” They played on repeat in my mind, each repetition like a knife to my heart. I started pacing, my thoughts a jumbled mess. How had things gotten so complicated? I was just trying to protect her, to give her a chance at life. But at what cost? I pulled out my phone, my finger hovering over Grim’s number. Should I call him? Tell him about the Poppet in the garden?

No, I decided, putting the phone away. Nothing had actually happened. We were both safe inside now. Besides, Grim had more important things to worry about. He was out there, trying to find a way to save me. To save us.

I sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. I’d always prided myself on being honest, on seeing the good in the world and in people. But now? Now I was lying to the person I loved most in the world. The weight of my secrets pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. I wanted nothing more than to run upstairs, gather Elysia in my arms, and tell her everything. To explain why I’d made the deal with Ma-Vasha, why Grim was really here, why we couldn’t leave the house. But I couldn’t. The truth would crush her. How could I tell her that when I found out she was dying, I’d traded my soul for her life?

I thought back to the photo album we’d looked at earlier. The picture of me holding Elysia just after she was born. I remembered that moment so clearly – the overwhelming love, the fierce protectiveness. I’d known then that I’d do anything for her. And that was exactly what I’d done, wasn’t it? I’d given up everything for her. My future, my life, my soul. But was it worth it if it meant losing her trust? If it meant that after I was gone, she’d spend the rest of her life hating me?

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady myself. This was for the best, I reminded myself. Elysia’s anger, her distrust – it was a small price to pay for her life. I just had to stay strong, to stick to the plan. Survive until Lady Mews recovered, and then... then I’d face whatever came next.

A tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, Grim would find a solution. He’d promised to try, after all. And there was something about him, something that made me want to believe in the impossible. For now, I had to focus on keeping Elysia safe, even if she hated me for it. In the end, her life was all that mattered.

Chapter Fifteen

Grim

My first destination was Isabelle, Norman’s ex-wife, the woman he’d left when she needed him most. Norman, my handler at Monster Security Agency, didn’t know I was visiting her. He’d probably have a fit if he found out. Not that I cared much about Norman’s feelings these days.

I’d become friends with Isabelle after their divorce. It happened by chance, really. I’d overheard Norman talking about her illness one day at the office, his voice lacking any real concern. It bothered me more than I cared to admit. So, I decided to check on her myself.

The first visit was awkward. I mean, how do you introduce yourself as your ex-husband’s undead coworker? But Isabelle surprised me. She laughed, invited me in for tea, and we talked for hours. About life, death, and everything in between. Something about her spirit, her resilience in the face of terminal illness, drew me to her. Maybe it was because I’d seen so much death, so much suffering in my long existence. Isabelle faced hers with a grace I rarely encountered.

As I made my way to her house now, my thoughts drifted to Millie. The feelings I had for her were complicated. Unfamiliar. I needed advice, and Isabelle was the wisest person I knew. Over the past months, our friendship had grown. I found myself visiting her whenever I could, between jobs, or late at night when the pain kept her awake. Isabelle never judged me for what I was. She saw past the skeleton, the darkness, the decades of baggage I carried. In her eyes, I was just Grim, her friend. It was refreshing, and it reminded me of how Millie looked at me.

I reached Isabelle’s front door, hesitating for a moment. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been having a rough day. The cancer was spreading, and the pain was getting worse. I hoped today was a good day. I knocked on the door, expecting Isabelle’s warm welcome. Instead, I found myself face-to-face with her daughter, Janine. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her usually neat hair was disheveled. The sight of her sent a jolt of worry through me.

“Grim,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.” Her words trembled slightly, and I could see she was struggling to keep her composure.

My non-existent stomach dropped. A feeling of dread washed over me, making my bones feel heavier than usual.

“Is everything alright?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

Janine shook her head. “Mom’s in the hospital. Her condition got worse overnight.” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “We thought... We thought we had more time.”

I stood there, frozen. Isabelle had been doing better the last time I saw her, even if she was having a difficult day. We’d laughed together, talked about her plans for the garden she wanted to plant in spring. How quickly things changed. It was a harsh reminder of the fragility of human life, something I’d witnessed countless times but never got used to.

“I’m heading there later,” Janine continued, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her shirt. “But you should go now. She’d want to see you.” Her eyes met mine, a mixture of sadness and gratitude in them. “She always brightens up when she talks about you, you know.”

I nodded, unable to form words. The thought of Isabelle, vibrant and full of life despite her illness, lying in a hospital bed stirred something deep within me. A feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Fear. Not for myself, but for someone I cared about.

Janine gave me a weak smile and closed the door. I could hear her soft sobs as she walked away, and it only strengthened my resolve. I didn’t waste any time. In a blink, I was gone, teleporting straight to the hospital.

The hospital room smelled sterile, like bleach and regret. Isabelle lay in her bed, her skin almost translucent against the white sheets. Tubes snaked around her, connected to machines that beeped and hissed, a mechanical symphony of life clinging to its last breath. Seeing her like this, so frail and diminished, was like watching a gruesome parody of life itself. The vibrancy, the fire that had always burned so brightly in her eyes, was now reduced to a flicker. The sight twisted something inside me, a dull ache in the space where my heart used to be. It was worse than witnessing any battlefield, more agonizing than the endless procession of souls I had ushered into the beyond.

“Grim?” A raspy voice broke through my thoughts. Isabelle’s eyelids fluttered open, and a weak smile touched her lips. “Did you come to collect me already?”

“Not yet, Isabelle,” I said.

A knowing look entered her eyes. “Don’t lie to a sick woman, Grim. I know my journey is nearing its end.”

“Don’t get all morbid on me now.” I pulled up a chair beside her bed, the metal legs scraping against the linoleum floor.

Isabelle chuckled. “Why not? It’s the only journey we all have left to take. But enough about me. How are you doing, Grim? Still saving damsels in distress?”

It was her way, always looking out for others, even on her deathbed. So, I told her about Millie, about the way her laughter could chase away the shadows that clung to me. I told her how Millie looked at me, not with fear or disgust, but with something akin to… wonder.

“She sounds fascinating,” Isabelle whispered, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the sterile walls of the hospital room. “And are you falling in love with her, Grim?”

I shifted uncomfortably, surprised by her directness. “Love? I don’t know about that.”

Isabelle let out a soft sigh, a tired sound. “Follow your heart, Grim.”

“I don’t have a heart, Isabelle. You know that.”

“Not that heart,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes, a flicker of her old spirit returning. “You know, Grim, for a monster of such power and wisdom, you are incredibly obtuse sometimes. You don’t need actual organs to love someone.”

Her words caught me off guard. Was it really that simple? Could I, a creature of darkness and shadows, experience love after all these decades? I pushed the thought away, uncomfortable with its implications.

“Grim,” Isabelle’s voice was weaker now, a threadbare whisper against the hum of the machines. “When it’s my time… will you be the one?”

I met her gaze. “You want me here?”

“You’re my friend,” she said. “I want to see a friendly face when I cross over.”

Her request, so simple yet so profound, unleashed a torrent of emotions within me. I felt rage at the injustice of it all, at the way her life was being stolen from her. I felt a surge of protectiveness, a primal urge to shield her from the inevitable. I felt… grief.

“I can make him pay, you know,” I found myself saying, my voice tight with suppressed fury. “For what he did to you.”

Isabelle shook her head. “There’s no need for that. Norman and I… We’ve made our peace.” She paused, her breath shallow and raspy. “These days, I don’t think about Norman anymore.”

I knew better than to argue. Although a part of me – a dark and vengeful part – craved to unleash its fury upon Norman for his cruelty, I would respect Isabelle’s wishes.

“As you wish, my friend,” I said.

A weak smile touched her lips. “Thank you, Grim. And promise me you’ll look after Janine when I’m gone. She needs someone to watch over her, someone who understands...” Her voice trailed off, her eyelids fluttering closed.

“I promise,” I whispered, my gaze fixed on her pale face. I would keep my word, even if it was the last thing I did.

But as I watched her drift into a restless sleep, a terrifying thought occurred to me. What if my promise to Isabelle conflicted with my feelings for Millie? What if keeping one promise meant breaking the other? Because to save Millie, it was entirely possible I would have to do something completely crazy, something that defied the nature of my own immortality. I could only look after Isabelle’s daughter if I remained the same – eternal, roaming the earth, doing my job as a reaper. Millie was changing me already, though. She was changing my future.

I couldn’t think about this now. I had work to do. I stood up, ran the back of my hand over Isabelle’s cheek in a silent goodbye, then grabbed my scythe from where I’d left it propped against the metal bed frame.

My second destination – the Halls of Death.

***

The Halls of Death were a real pain in the neck. Always cold, always echoing with the whispers of departing souls. I hated coming here. It felt like stepping back into a life I’d rather forget. The place was a labyrinth of endless corridors, each turn leading to another chamber of bureaucratic nonsense. Clerks with vacant eyes shuffled papers, their faces etched with the boredom of eternity. Scribes hunched over glowing tablets, recording names and dates in an endless, morbid census. It was enough to make even a Grim Reaper long for the sweet oblivion of non-existence. Almost.

I navigated the winding passages, my destination the chamber of the Fates. They were the three sisters who held the threads of life in their hands. Powerful beings, even by my standards. Not the kind you wanted to cross, especially if you valued your existence. And right now, I was teetering on the precipice of a decision that could disrupt the cosmic order. Or at least earn me a stern talking-to from Death themselves.

The Fates were more than just mythical figures; they were the cogs in the machinery of life and death. The First Sister spun the threads of existence with her spindle, each one representing a life about to begin. The Second Sister measured them, her fingers deciding the length and breadth of each journey. But it was the Third Sister, the one with the shears, who truly fascinated and terrified me. Her touch was final. She snipped a thread of life, and somewhere in the land of the living, a life ended. Then it was my job to find the severed thread that blew in the wind on earth, follow it to its source, and finish what she’d started. With my scythe, I cut the thread a second time from where it was knotted around the dying human’s – or monster’s – breastbone. Finally, I guided their soul to the door beyond which their afterlife awaited. I never knew what someone’s afterlife looked like. All I knew was that beyond the door, they would find what they needed at that moment.

The air grew colder as I approached the Fates’ chamber. The whispers faded, replaced by a silence so profound it felt like a physical presence. A sense of anticipation, of ancient power, hung heavy in the air. The chamber doors, crafted from obsidian and etched with swirling symbols of life and death, stood slightly ajar, as if beckoning me inside.

I stepped into the chamber with a slow, measured pace, my gaze immediately drawn to the three sisters who were engrossed in their work. The room felt cavernous despite being filled with the weight of their presence. The First Sister sat hunched over a spindle, her fingers moving with the precision of muscle memory as she spun gleaming threads of life. Each one pulsed with a faint light. The Second Sister was just as focused, her hands moving in a rhythm that spoke of millennia of practice as she measured each thread with meticulous care. She murmured to herself, as if counting in a language I could never hope to understand. And there, at the far end, the Third Sister waited, her shears glinting ominously under the dim, otherworldly light, ready to make the final cut.

I could feel their power thrumming in the air. For a moment, I hesitated, just long enough to feel the tension coil in my shoulders as I realized how much was riding on this meeting.

“Ladies,” I finally said, clearing my throat. The echo of my voice sounded like an intrusion in this sacred space. “I need your help.”

Their movements never faltered, but acknowledging my presence shifted the atmosphere. There was a brittle coldness in the air now, colder even than the endless corridors I had just navigated.

“One of my clients made a deal with Ma-Vasha,” I continued. “Is there any way to break it?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. They didn’t stop their work – didn’t even look up at me – but I felt their disapproval like a boulder pressing on my chest. It was the Second Sister who broke the silence.

“The Breathless are not pleased with you, Grim.”

I’d known that but hearing it said out loud still made me feel uncomfortable. Before I could think of a response, the First Sister spoke, her fingers never pausing as she spun another thread of life with effortless grace.

“You’ve gone rogue,” she said. “Refusing your duties as a reaper to play bodyguard. It’s disgraceful.”

They had a point, but this wasn’t just any bodyguard job.

“Look,” I said, “If you won’t help me, I need to see the Breathless. You’re in charge of appointments with Death, right?”

Still, they worked in unison, an eerie, coordinated dance I found disturbing. The Third Sister lifted her gaze, and I nearly flinched at the sight of her eyes – voids that seemed to suck the light out of the room.

“The Breathless won’t see you,” she said. “They’re too upset.”

I clenched my hand into a fist. “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth, “Then show me Camellia Aster’s thread of life.”

That got their attention. All three sisters stopped their work abruptly. Their heads turned towards me.

“Unacceptable,” the First Sister hissed. “Mind your own business, Grim. Do not meddle in the affairs of foolish humans and their deals.”

I took a step forward, defiance simmering just beneath my anger. “I can’t walk away from this,” I insisted. “Then I need to see the Breathless. Right now.”

They shared a glance with one another. It was a silent conversation, something ancient and telepathic that I would never be privy to. When they finally turned back to me, the Second Sister spoke.

“We’ll speak to the Breathless. But for now, you should leave. Your presence here is unwelcome.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look in their eyes told me it would be pointless.

As I turned to go, the Third Sister’s voice stopped me. “Grim,” she said, her tone oddly gentle. “Be careful. The path you’re walking leads to places even we can’t see.”

Chapter Sixteen

Millie

I didn’t know what to do with myself. Grim had been gone all day, it was late now, the sun had set an hour ago, and I was haunting the halls of Asterhaven like a ghost who got lost on her way to the afterlife. Elysia was in her room. She hadn’t set foot out of it all day, still mad at me after I’d dragged her inside and scolded her for having gone out into the garden without my permission. I left her dinner on a tray, at the door, and a few minutes later it was gone, which was a good sign. She was a good kid. She would never punish me by starving herself, especially not after months when she couldn’t eat because of her illness.

She wanted an explanation, but I couldn’t give it to her. I couldn’t tell her the truth, so I supposed I was going to have to live with the pain caused by the fact that I’d upset her. With the hurt that I was lying to her, and when she grew up and realized, she was going to hate me for the rest of her life.

But at least she would have the rest of her life to hate me.

I moved around the ground floor, walking into each room and checking the windows, drawing the curtains closed to make sure the Poppets couldn’t peer inside. I kept my gaze lowered as I did that, not wanting to fall for their tricks again. I wanted to believe that if one of them took my mother’s shape again and whispered to me in her voice, I wouldn’t follow it outside like I’d done the last time, but it was better to be safe than sorry. These creatures had a way of getting under my skin.  Just a few more days until I could bring Lady Mews home, then, if I was lucky and Ma-Vasha didn’t lose her patience and came to collect what was due to her – namely, my soul – one more week to enjoy my sister’s company, to kiss her and hug her tight, before I abandoned her like my parents abandoned us.

To think about all of it... What had happened these past few days and what was to come... It was too much. I felt my chest constricting and my breath coming out in pained gasps. I paced around the living room, then moved to the kitchen, where I paced some more, feeling like I was going mad. My fight or flight instinct was kicking in, and I was starting to feel claustrophobic. I rushed out of the kitchen and down the hall, and from the corner of my eye, I saw the door to the sunroom.

The two times I’d summoned the soul-eating creature, I’d done it in the sunroom, at night. Since the moment Ma-Vasha materialized in there for the first time, the room had felt tainted with her dark, malevolent power, so I’d locked the door and told Elysia the room needed to be cleaned, and it was better to not play in there because of all the dust. Elysia didn’t question me, especially since she wasn’t necessarily a fan of the sunroom. It was mostly my place, where I went to read and paint. I loved the natural light; Elysia, not so much. She spent a lot of her time either on her phone or her tablet, and she claimed all the sun made it impossible to see the screen.

Grim wasn’t back yet. It was shocking to realize how much I needed him. He’d only been gone for a few hours, and I could even say that... I missed him. I’d gotten used to his presence in the house, to him following me around like a shadow. A protective shadow. I knew it was his job and I’d paid him to do it, but I couldn’t help but think it had become more than that. Earlier, before he left, I’d done something that was so unlike me – I’d sat on his lap and kissed him. It had been a chaste kiss, on the cheek, but who was I kidding? I’d had to stop myself from kissing him right on the mouth. It would’ve been inappropriate, seeing how he was my bodyguard and nothing more, but at the same time... I didn’t think it would’ve been completely wrong. He liked me, I could tell.

The way Grim looked at me... No man had looked at me like that before. Not even...

No. I wasn’t going to go there. I would not think about him. Not tonight, when I had so many other things to worry about.

Like Grim. Where was Grim? Why wasn’t he back?

Did I hope he would return with good news? That he’d found a way for me to get out of the terrible deal I’d made? Sure, but also... no. That wasn’t it. I wanted him to come back already because I needed him here. His presence soothed me, and when we touched, when I sat beside him on the couch and pressed my body to his, my entire being became alive with things I hadn’t felt in ages. In eight years, to be exact, and come to think about it, eight years of being with no man was a lot. But how could I be with a man when I didn’t trust any of them? Grim was different. I could trust him with my life, and not just because I’d paid a small fortune to Monster Security Agency to secure him as my bodyguard.

He was like no man I’d ever met before. He cared. He truly cared about me and Elysia, and he didn’t even spare a second glance at the mansion or thought about the fortune attached to the Aster name. When he looked at me, he didn’t see heaps of money. He saw me. And that made me feel so safe, so wanted and appreciated that I couldn’t help falling for him. Hard. I didn’t care that underneath his magical cloak he was a skeleton covered in patches of melted skin and darkness. The two times I’d slept pressed against his side, he’d felt real, solid, carnal. I didn’t care what his body looked like. I didn’t care he had a skull for a head, and no eyes in his eye sockets. He stirred things within me that had been dormant for eight years.

With nothing else to do, I found myself standing in front of the door to the sunroom. Before I knew it, I was digging in my pocket for the key and unlocking the door, stepping inside. The room smelled musty. There was a twinge of decay in the air, and I realized it was coming from the flowerpots. I hadn’t watered the plants in here for days, and they were dying. I wrapped my arms around myself and advanced to the center of the room. The tall windows let in the soft glow of the moonlight and stars. There were no drapes, as the whole point of a sunroom was to let in the sun.

Something shifted outside, in the dark, and I instantly shifted my gaze to the floor. I knew the Poppets were out there, watching me, hoping they could get to me now that I was standing in plain view. But I knew to ignore them. They could slither their way into my mind when I was asleep, but they couldn’t enter the house. In fact, they’d lost access to my mind, too, seeing how I wasn’t going to fall asleep unless I was protected by Grim’s cloak. We’d made it into an unspoken rule.

“Millie?” Grim’s voice pulled me out of my trance.

I turned to see him standing in the doorway. He must’ve teleported a few seconds ago, so silently that I hadn’t heard him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

That was when I looked around me and saw the sheer number of Poppets gathered outside, at the windows. They were everywhere, maybe a dozen of them or more, their straw hands pressed to the glass, their dark eyes staring at me. When I made eye contact with one of them, they started whispering all at once.

I closed my eyes and pressed my hands to my ears. Grim was at my side in an instant.

“Millie, you can’t be in here. You keep this room locked for a reason.”

“Can you hear them too?”

“No. They don’t speak to me, only to you. Don’t listen to them. Come on.”

He tried to pull me towards the door, but my legs refused to move. I was stuck in place, and when he saw his efforts were pointless, he lifted me into his arms. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in his chest.

“Take me to my room,” I whispered.

I thought he was going to walk out of the sunroom and up the stairs, but he chose to fulfill my wish in a different way. One moment, we were in the sunroom, surrounded by Poppets tapping on the windows, the next, we were in the middle of my bedroom. I opened my eyes and blinked in confusion. Whisps of dark fog danced around us, only to disappear seconds later like dust chased by a draft.

“What...? How did you do that?”

“I figured it was much easier to teleport,” he said, gently placing me down on my feet.

I clung to him, though, not wanting to let go. “I thought teleporting was much more complicated than this. That I’d feel… dizzy.”

Grim smiled, his teeth showing in a creepy, yet such a familiar way. His smile warmed my heart.

“I’m a smooth teleporter,” he said.

“I guess you are”. I lifted myself on my toes and reached for his face. He had one arm around my waist, and he was holding his scythe with his other hand. “Grim,” I whispered, my gaze falling to his lips. “What took you so long? You’ve been gone all day.”

“I went to see a friend,” he said. “Then I tried to find answers to your problem, but... We have to wait.”

I nodded, biting my lower lip. My face was inches from his. His lips were thin and pale. Seeing him from up close, I realized that there was some substance to him, even where it seemed like there was just bone, shiny and exposed. I couldn’t begin to understand how he was made, how he was held together by the magic that had revived him and recreated him a century ago.

“I’m sorry I don’t have better news,” he said.

“Shh...” I closed the space between us, pressed myself to him, and kissed him right on the mouth.

I felt him tense up. His hand, which had been resting on my lower back, gripped my shirt. For a moment, I thought he was going to pull away. He didn’t. He stood there, stunned, not knowing what to do. When I started moving my lips against his bony ones, he slowly responded. It was as if I had to coax him, assure him this was okay, show him that I wanted it.

In the end, he did pull away and looked deep into my eyes. I wondered what he saw when he stared into my blue irises like that. Did he see my soul? Because I could see nothing when I stared into his endless sockets, and it bothered me a little, to be fair. It was as if he was a mystery that I was never going to solve.

“Millie,” he whispered my name like a prayer. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“You could have any man... Why me?”

“Because you see me,” I said, clinging to him once more, pulling his face to mine.

“This can’t end well.”

“I don’t care.” I pressed my mouth to his again, kissing him hard. “I have less than two weeks to live.” I took his hand and led him to my four-poster bed. “I’ve been so sad for so long, and I’m tired of feeling sad and lonely. Will you help me feel happy for the little while I have left on this earth?”

He followed me, and when we reached the bed, I gently touched his hand that was holding his scythe. I could swear... he never seemed to let go of that thing. I knew I wasn’t supposed to touch it, so with a brush of my fingers on his wrist, I signaled I wanted him to leave it somewhere for once. I needed to feel both his hands on me. He understood, because he stepped away and left it leaning against the wall, next to the nightstand.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I sat on the edge of the bed and slowly removed my shirt. “Yes.”

He looked at me with such intensity that I felt naked before him, even if I wasn’t. Yet.

“You know I can’t...” He ran his fingers over his cloak, where it was well secured over his chest.

“I don’t care. With or without it, I want you.” I removed my bra, then, letting him see my round, heavy breasts. It was annoying that I couldn’t read his face – because there was nothing to read; bones didn’t exactly have... features – but the low growl that escaped him told me all I needed to know.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said in a low, husky voice. He moved closer, until he was standing between my knees. His hand reached out, and the tips of his fingers traced the curve of my breast.

“I think I have an idea...” My breath hitched when his fingers brushed my nipple.

“You shouldn’t want to do this with me,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Aside from the fact that we come from entirely different worlds, you’re alive and I’m not.”

“I won’t be alive for much longer.”

He didn’t say anything. I could tell he really didn’t like it when I reminded him – and myself – that fate was coming for me. Fate in the form of Ma-Vasha’s hunger for my soul. It was ruining the mood, so I made a mental note to stop talking about it, at least when we were intimate. I fisted his cloak and pulled him towards me. He fell on top of me, and I scooted up on the bed. He followed me, his body incapable of resisting mine.

“Touch me,” I said.

“Millie...”

I fumbled with his cloak where it hung heavy around his hips, and finally, I managed to slip my hands underneath it and find his belt. I pulled at it, undid it, and next were the buttons. I could feel his hard cock tenting in his pants, and a rush of excitement overtook me. I wanted to feel it, see what it was like. Considering that Grim was dead – or so he said, though I was more inclined to call him undead – he could sure produce an erection.

Finally, my fingers wrapped around his cock, and to my surprise, the skin was smooth and slightly warm to the touch. The rest of him was cold, though... Was it my imagination, or was his body starting to warm up?

“How?” I asked, stroking him firmly, enjoying the way he filled my hand.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice choked up. “I... I’ve never done this before... As a reaper, I mean. I didn’t know my body was capable of it.”

I continued to stroke his cock as my other hand sneaked under his shirt to touch his stomach. The skin there wasn’t smooth. It was scarred and rough, but I didn’t mind it one bit.

“You’re warming up,” I said. Now I knew it wasn’t my imagination. The more I touched him, the warmer he became.

“You’re doing this to me...”

I grinned as I gently squeezed the head of his cock. “What am I doing to you?”

He gasped, moaned... “Everything... It’s you. It’s all you. Only you.”

Chapter Seventeen

Grim

She was right. My body was warm for the first time in a hundred years and thrumming with something that was close to... life. Except it wasn’t. It was an imitation of it, a memory of it... As if my body remembered what a woman’s touch was supposed to do to it, so it responded to Millie, shuddering under her exploring fingers, hardening and pulsating. And all this was possible without a drop of blood running through my veins.

An erection shouldn’t have been possible. I hadn’t thought it was. After I became a reaper, I put aside all thoughts of women, love, lust, companionship. Those weren’t available to me anymore, or so I’d thought. The woman that was currently half naked under me was proving me wrong.

Still, I had no heart. Yet my chest, as hollow as it was, ached for her. I had no stomach, yet I could feel knots of anxiousness forming in the space where it should have been. And my balls... They hung heavy between my thighs, and I could tell they were filled with something – something I wanted to give to her – but I had no idea what it was. My body held no fluids. No blood, no saliva, and certainly, no semen. I knew I wanted – needed – to fill Millie, to pour myself inside her, but I was at a loss as to what was going to shoot out of my cock when the time came.

It was ridiculous how little I knew about my own body! When it turned from mortal to immortal under the touch of Death, it hadn’t come with a manual.

Millie removed her pants in haste. They were elegant, made of some soft fabric I didn’t know the name of. Everything she wore was exquisite and fit her perfectly, as if her clothes were all bespoke. I was glad she was removing them herself, as I wouldn’t have known how to handle them without my bony fingers poking into them.

“Please,” she said, her fingers slipping under the elastic of her panties. She started rolling them down her thighs.

I didn’t know what her “please” meant, what she wanted me to do. I watched in awe as she revealed herself to me, her pussy perfectly shaved, the lips pink and glistening with her juices. Mesmerized by the beauty of her sex, I descended onto her body and gently parted her legs to have a better look.

With a sigh, she relaxed and spread herself for me. I was lying on the bed now, between her knees, which she bent slightly. Her pussy was perfect. Back in my mortal days, the ones I’d seen on the few women I’d been with, hadn’t been shaved. Granted, I hadn’t exactly dated high-born ladies, to put it politely. I ran my bony finger from her dripping entrance to her tiny clit, careful not to hurt her. I truly didn’t think my fingers were made to touch such softness. Her juices coated the tips of them, and she let out a throaty moan.

“Yes,” she said.

I wanted to taste her. It wasn’t possible, of course, as I had no sense of taste. The only sense that had still stuck around was my sense of smell, but even that I couldn’t be too sure about. Sometimes I thought I imagined the scents I felt, and didn’t actually smell them. Nonetheless, I flicked my tongue over her folds, getting the tip coated with her juices. Since I didn’t produce saliva, I was going to need the secretions of her beautiful body to make up for it. To be certain my tongue – which was like parchment – didn’t hurt her, I dipped it inside her pussy.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned.

That gave me courage. As clumsy as I thought I was, I was doing something right. I traced my tongue back up to her clit and started licking it in circles, faster and faster, as fast as my inexperienced tongue could manage. She arched her back, and next thing I knew, her hands were on my skull, pressing me down. At first, I thought she was going to try and remove my hood, but she didn’t as much as pull at it. I appreciated that she respected my wish to remain cloaked. It wasn’t that my body would shatter or turn to dust without it, but I doubted Millie would still want to do these things with me if she saw me in my marred, burned, naked glory.

“Right there. Don’t stop.” She was breathing faster, her chest rising and falling.

I focused on her tiny nub, licking and sucking on it, making sure I used her juices to keep my tongue wet. Soon enough, her moans became louder, and her thighs squeezed around my skull, trapping me between them, as she came. I didn’t stop, and after a few seconds, she let out a muffled scream and came again, this time wrapping her legs around my back.

“Sensitive... mmm,” she protested.

I looked up and realized she’d covered her mouth with the edge of the pillow and was biting into it. I remembered that her sister’s room was just down the hall, and even if the walls and doors were thick, it was better to be as silent as possible. The poor girl was traumatized already; she didn’t need to know that her big sister was fucking a... Grim Reaper.

“Come here,” Millie said, pulling me up her body. Her hands started roaming underneath my cloak, and I shrunk, feeling self-conscious. “Don’t worry, I won’t take it off. I just want to touch you, feel you...” She unbuttoned my shirt, and without looking, pressed her chest to mine.

We were skin to skin, and I could feel her heart beating in her chest. It was such a powerful thing that, for a second, I was tricked into believing that my own heart had grown back and was beating, too, in unison with hers.

“See?” She claimed my mouth in a kiss. “This is perfect.”

I chuckled bitterly. “You’re perfect. As for me... And for what we’re doing...”

“Shh...” Her hand reached between our bodies and wrapped around my cock. “I want you inside me.”

“I don’t know...”

“Let’s find out.”

I couldn’t say no when I knew I wanted the same thing. Maybe more than she did.

Chapter Eighteen

Millie

I felt his scars, his burns, the places where his skin was rough, and I realized that I loved them all. I wanted to see him without the cloak, but it was clear he wasn’t ready. I closed my eyes and thought back to the first time we met, on the roof of the MSA building, and I grabbed his cloak, pulled it, and it slid down his back. Underneath, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, so I saw his back, his torso, and his arms, all covered in marred flesh. His skeleton was visible, too, wrapped in a sort of darkness that seemed to hold his material form together. After that event, he’d probably thought it was better to wear a shirt underneath his cloak, just in case I got any other ideas into my head.

It was funny, in a way. Or it would’ve been funny, had it not been so sad. Grim was ashamed of his body.

His pants were around his knees, and his shirt was wide open, but seeing how his heavy, expansive cloak covered him and me both, I couldn’t see anything. Feeling him would have to do for now.

I guided his cock between my legs, teasing my entrance with the engorged head. My pussy sucked him in immediately, starved to be filled after so many years of zero action. He tensed, and I gently stroked his chest and buried my face in his cloak to kiss the length of his neck. Slowly, I felt him relax.

He started moving his hips, thrusting inside me, penetrating me inch by inch. I hated that I couldn’t see his cock, but the way he filled me told me it was long and thick. Already, he was hitting all the right spots.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m not hurting you?”

“How could you?”

He grabbed hold of my hips and buried himself inside me completely, his heavy balls resting against my buttocks. I wrapped my arms around him and kept my face hidden underneath his hood, against his neck. It was dark, so dark that it didn’t make sense to keep my eyes open. We were so close now, and as he started moving, fucking me slowly and deliberately, he wrapped me in his cloak. We were two people – well, a human and a monster – wrapped in a cocoon of magic and darkness.

It felt comforting. His cloak was something special. It gave me the feeling that it could shield me from anything. Not just from malevolent things from the outside world, but from the dark things that lurked inside my mind, too. Fear, anxiety, dread – Grim’s cloak would protect me from all of it.

After a few minutes, he was still moving slowly, as if he wanted to savor these special moments. I didn’t rush him, as my pleasure built and built steadily, rising in my core, making my pussy throb with the need to milk him. I had no idea what was going to happen then, and I didn’t care. If there were consequences to sleeping with a reaper, it wasn’t like I was going to be around for long to find out what they were.

His thrusts were firm, his body wrapped around me with such intensity that it almost felt desperate. And I realized in that moment that I needed him, but... maybe he needed me more. I started kissing his neck, and I felt and heard the growl that escaped him as he started moving faster, fucking me harder. The tip of his cock pushed against my cervix, over and over, and my eyes rolled in my head from how good that felt.

“Mmm... don’t stop,” I whispered in his ear.

“Never,” he whispered back. His arms tightened around me. “I’ll never stop protecting you.”

I chuckled. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know.” He pulled away just enough to look into my eyes. To me, it was all the same... Underneath his hood, all I could see was the abyss. “I’ll never stop fucking you, either. If that’s what you want.”

“Finally, you’re getting it...” My giggle was cut short by a particular hard trust. I let out a moan and clung to him for dear life. Or death. As I neared what I knew would be a shattering orgasm, by thoughts stopped making sense.

I moved my hips in sync with his, forcing him to go faster and harder. I was close... so close... I bit my lower lip, trying to keep silent. Grim threw me over the edge unexpectedly, when he angled his hips in such a way that his cock hit the most delicious spot inside me. I let out a small cry, my toes curling and my back arching, my hands holding on to his cloak.

“Oh!” That was the only word I could utter, and it wasn’t even a word. It was an interjection.

“Millie...”

I felt him tense up. He went still as he pumped... something inside me. I could feel it. It was dense, but it wasn’t wet. It filled me to the brim, and I could swear that it snaked its way inside my uterus, and from there, it felt like it wrapped around my ovaries. It moved up, up, up, until it enveloped most of my organs. It wasn’t liquid. It was... I didn’t know what it was.

Grim moved away, his cock slipping out of me. He must’ve been curious himself, because he sat up on his knees and stared at my pussy in awe.

“What is it?” I asked, sitting up. I looked down between my legs, and my eyes widened at the sight of darkness – literal darkness – seeping out of me. It poured like smoke over my thighs and the bed sheets, but it didn’t stain them. After a few seconds, it vanished.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“What?” My eyes snapped back to his shrouded face.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you... you know... the real thing.”

“What are you talking about?” I reached a hand between my legs and dipped my fingers into the darkness that oozed out of my pussy. My fingers came back stained with black, but the color disappeared within seconds. I rubbed my fingers together and realized there was a certain smoothness to the darkness that had just come out of Grim. “I can feel it inside me,” I told him. “Wrapped around my organs.”

His shock was palpable. “I’m so sorry, Millie.”

I smiled. “Really, you have to stop apologizing. If anything, this is way cleaner than... what did you call it? The real thing.” I closed my legs and rubbed them together. “I don’t need to take a shower, and that’s a huge plus, trust me.”

He looked at me, unsure of what to say.

“Come here,” I reached out for him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he fell into my arms. “Will you sleep with me tonight? Keep me under your cloak?”

“You know I will.”

“Good. Because I need you, Grim. Not just as my bodyguard, but as...” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence, though. It was hard to put into words how I felt. Say it in a way that made sense.

“As what?” He looked down at me, searching my face. “What are we, Millie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are we friends?”

“More than friends.”

“For how long?” he asked. There was sadness in his voice, and I realized we were back to talking about the dark things that awaited us. Mostly me.

“For as long as I live,” I said. “Which isn’t long, I know...”

“And what if I find a way? What if I get you out of the deal with Ma-Vasha? What if you live, Millie? A long, full life... Then, for how long will you want me by your side?”

I cupped his skull with my hands and looked into the bottomless depths of his eye sockets. “Again, for as long as I live.”

He opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind. I had a feeling he didn’t believe me. Well, that only meant I’d have to try harder. Because if he, indeed, found a way to rid me of Ma-Vasha and the stupid bargain I’d made, I fully intended to make this thing between us official.

A human and a monster – not something unheard of. Humans and monsters mated all the time.

A human and a Grim Reaper. So what? Why not? I was Camellia Aster, and I could choose whoever I wanted.

Chapter Nineteen

Grim

I held Millie in my arms, marveling at how perfectly she fit against me. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. As I looked down at her sleeping face, it was hard to believe that someone like her – vibrant and full of life – would want someone like me – an undead man stitched together by magic and darkness.

With cautious fingers, I traced the outline of her jaw, delighting in the sensation of her skin under my touch. I could feel the way she inhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling. Her delicate features were relaxed, and for a moment, I allowed myself to wonder what it would be like if this morning could stretch on forever. My cloak wrapped around us, concealing our nakedness. The weight of the fabric was comforting, especially knowing that it protected Millie from her nightmares. The feeling of her skin against mine was intoxicating.

I’d seen countless beautiful women in my years as a Reaper, but none of them compared to Millie. Her beauty wasn’t just in her appearance. It was in her kindness, her strength, her determination to protect her sister at any cost. It was her character that made her shine brighter than anyone I’d ever met. And now here she was, in my arms, giving herself to a creature like me…

Part of me wanted to wake her up, so I could see those beautiful blue eyes of hers looking at me again with the affection she’d showed me last night. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t be so selfish when she needed to rest so badly. I kept still, content to be her makeshift pillow.

A sharp hissing sound broke the stillness of the bedroom, snapping me out of my reverie. My body tensed. In the middle of the room, a dark, twisted silhouette began to take shape. I sat up straight, waking Millie in the process. She stirred next to me, groggy and disoriented, clutching the cloak around her, but as she followed my gaze to the intruder, she froze.

The figure solidified into a grotesque creature, malformed and unnatural, and I knew immediately it was one of Death’s messengers. I called them Death’s pets, and this one was of the more hideous variety, as if all the horrors of man and beast had been twisted together, creating something that barely fit into the mortal plane. Its head was that of a ram’s, crowned with spiraling horns, and its crimson eyes glowed with an eerie light. Where its torso should have been humanoid, pale scales glinted instead, catching the morning light in patches. Its arms were mismatched, one ending in a hawk’s talon, the other in a lion’s paw.

“Grim Reaper, you have been summoned by the Breathless,” it spoke.

Millie shrunk beside me. “The Breathless?”

“It’s another name for Death,” I said, not taking my eyes off the creature.

“Death? As in… the actual Death?”

The messenger’s focus was on Millie, its burning eyes locking onto her with what I could only describe as impatience.

“Bring the woman with you.”

Instinctively, I pulled Millie closer to me, wrapping my arm around her. An unnatural fear coursed through me, thinking that Death might have plans for Millie that I didn’t know about.

“What?” I snapped at the creature. “Why?”

Its form flickered, dark smoke curling around its mismatched limbs, until it dissolved into a cloud of black, swirling mist, its red eyes the last to disappear.

“Those are the orders,” it said before it vanished completely.

I watched as Millie’s face drained of color. She clung to me, her fingers digging into my arm with surprising strength.

“Why does Death want to see me?” she asked. “I’m not ready, Grim. I need to say goodbye to Elysia. I can’t…”

I pulled her close. “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” I promised, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. “The Breathless probably just wants to ask about your deal with Ma-Vasha.”

She looked up at me, confusion in her eyes. “But why?”

I sighed, running a hand over my skull. “Yesterday, I went to see Death, but they refused to meet with me. Looks like they changed their mind.”

“You went to see Death?!” Millie’s eyebrows shot up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” I admitted. “Death is the only one who might know how to get you out of this mess.”

Millie nodded slowly. She was still tense, but some of the panic had left her eyes.

“I need to let Elysia know we’ll be gone for a while,” she said.

“Of course. Take your time.”

I watched as Millie slipped out of the bed, her naked form catching the soft morning light that filtered through the curtains. Her skin seemed to glow, pale and perfect. She moved with a grace that seemed effortless, unaware of how captivating she was. As she got dressed, I couldn’t help but marvel at the curves of her body, the way her long black hair cascaded down her back. When she sat at her vanity to brush that glorious mane, I found myself mesmerized by the rhythmic motion of her arm, the way the brush glided through the silky strands.

How the hell did I get so lucky? A woman like Millie, giving a broken, undead thing like me the time of day? It didn’t make sense. Yet here we were.

“You’re staring,” Millie said, catching my eye in the mirror.

I shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “Can you blame me?”

She blushed, a soft pink tinting her cheeks. It was endearing as hell.

“I’ll go talk to Elysia, and then we should hurry. I don’t think it’s wise to keep Death, or... what did you call her?”

“Them.”

“Them. Sorry.”

“The Breathless.”

“We shouldn’t keep the Breathless waiting,” she said, standing up and walking to the door. “Especially if you think they can help me.”

I nodded, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, self-consciously making sure they were covered by my cloak.

“Meet you downstairs in ten?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“Yes, Ms. Aster. Meet you downstairs in ten.”

She giggled at the formality of my reply.

And that was that. I was in love.

Chapter Twenty

Millie

The world around me shifted and blurred as we materialized in front of a massive door. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before – dark and imposing, adorned with countless jewels that sparkled in an unseen light. The door looked like it belonged in a museum, not... wherever we were.

I blinked, trying to take in my surroundings. We stood in what seemed to be an endless hallway, stretching as far as the eye could see in both directions. The walls were a swirling mix of shadows and light, constantly moving and changing. It made my head spin just looking at it. The air felt thick and heavy, like it was pressing down on me from all sides. Every breath I took felt wrong, as if my lungs were rejecting the very atmosphere of this place. My skin crawled with an unsettling sensation, like I was trespassing somewhere I didn’t belong. My mind raced, struggling to process the things around me. It reminded me of that one time in college when I gave in to peer pressure and tried magic mushrooms. The world had warped and twisted then, just like it was doing now. But this was so much more intense, more real. I felt overwhelmed, my brain buzzing with information it couldn’t quite comprehend. The jewels on the door seemed to whisper secrets, their facets reflecting images I couldn’t quite grasp. The floor beneath my feet felt both solid and insubstantial at the same time.

“Millie?” Grim’s voice cut through the fog in my mind. “Are you okay?”

I turned to look at him. “I’m not sure I can do this. I feel like I’m about to faint.”

Grim pulled me into his arms. His embrace was cool and comforting, and it helped settle my thoughts and my erratic heartbeat.

“I swear to you, Millie,” he said softly, “I will protect you. I’ll take you back home safely. You have my word.”

I looked up into the dark pits where his eyes should have been. “I trust you.”

A deep, rumbling sound filled the air and made the floor under our feet shake. The massive door before us began to open, swinging inward with a slow movement. Grim took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Hand in hand, we stepped forward, crossing the threshold into Death’s office.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. The room was enormous, stretching out before us like some grand ballroom from a fairy tale. But this was no fairy tale – it was something far more ancient and powerful.

The walls were lined with the most exquisite wood paneling I’d ever seen. Every inch was covered in intricate carvings – scenes of life and death, joy and sorrow, all intertwined in a never-ending dance. Precious gems and metals were inlaid throughout, catching what little light there was and throwing it back in dazzling sparkles.

My eyes were drawn to two tall windows on the far wall. I expected to see daylight streaming through – given it had been almost midday when we left – but instead, I found myself staring into a vast, dark void. It was like looking into the deepest reaches of space, but without the comforting presence of stars. As I watched, tiny pinpricks of light would occasionally flicker into existence, only to fade away moments later. Each one felt like a life – briefly shining before being extinguished. The sight made my head spin. I squeezed Grim’s hand tighter, grateful for his solid presence beside me. Without him, I might’ve convinced myself this was all a hallucination. But Grim was real, and his hand in mine kept me grounded in reality – no matter how strange that reality might’ve been.

A massive desk dominated the center of the room. It was crafted from the same richly carved wood as the walls, its surface inlaid with more gemstones than I could count. Stacks of papers and books covered most of it, giving the impression of organized chaos. Behind it sat a figure, hunched over a thick book. As we approached, they raised a hand, beckoning us closer. My heart raced, realizing this must be the Breathless – Death themselves.

When they lifted their head, I felt my knees go weak. The room spun, and for a moment, I was certain I was going to faint. Somehow, I managed to stay upright, but my stomach churned with nausea. The being before me radiated power, an energy so intense it made the air feel heavy. I tried to focus on their face, but it was like trying to look at a mirage. One second, I saw delicate feminine features, and the next, a strong masculine jawline. The constant shift was dizzying. Even their clothes seemed to defy reality. A long dress covered every inch of their body, with a veil obscuring their head. But as I watched, the fabric flickered between deepest black and purest white, never settling on one color. I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision, but it didn’t help. The constant changes made my head throb and my stomach lurch.

Death’s shifting gaze settled on us, their voice echoing through the room. “Ansel Sullivan, I was informed you wanted to speak to me. I must admit that at first, I didn’t want to see you. You have disappointed me. How long since you reaped a soul? A year?”

I blinked, confused. Ansel Sullivan? Who was that? I glanced at Grim, expecting him to be equally puzzled, but he stood tall, his skeletal frame rigid.

“Yes,” Grim replied. “It’s been about a year.”

My mind reeled. Ansel Sullivan was Grim? Of course, I realized. How silly of me. Of course he had a name. He’d been human once. The thought made my chest tighten. There was still so much I didn’t know about him.

Grim continued, “I needed a break.”

Death’s form flickered, their expression unreadable. “Grim Reapers don’t take breaks. There’s no such thing as taking a vacation.”

I held my breath, waiting for Death’s anger, but Grim seemed unfazed. “I know,” he said. “Will I be punished?”

To my surprise, Death’s ever-changing features softened. They sighed. “I understand this job is hard, Ansel. No, you will not be punished. You were punished enough as a mortal. I am not in the business of punishing anyone.”

Relief flooded through me, and I felt some of the tension leave Grim’s body beside me.

Death’s gaze flickered between us. “All right, Ansel, tell me what you need.”

Grim straightened, his voice steady as he explained. “Millie has made a deal with Ma-Vasha: her soul in exchange for saving her sister’s life.”

Before he could continue, Death raised a hand, silencing him. Their gaze turned to me, and I felt pinned in place by the weight of their attention.

“You wanted to save your sister’s life,” Death said, their voice neither accusatory nor sympathetic. “What is her name?”

I swallowed hard, barely finding my voice. “Elysia.”

Death nodded, the movement causing their form to ripple like water. “And how do you feel about lying to this man who would do anything for you?”

The words hit me hard. I felt the color drain from my face, my heart pounding so wildly I was sure Death could hear it. I wanted the floor to open and swallow me whole. How did they know? What was I supposed to say?

Beside me, Grim tensed up again. “What’s going on?”

Death’s gaze never left me. “I might be able to help you, Camellia, but if there’s one thing that I cannot stand is to have lies uttered in my office. The Halls of Death are a place of truth.”

I nodded, shame burning in my chest. “I understand. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I turned to Grim, my heart breaking at the look of confusion on his eyeless face. I took a deep breath, knowing I couldn’t put this off any longer. “Elysia is not my sister,” I said. “She is my daughter.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with eight years of secrets and guilt. I’d never said it out loud before, not since the day my parents and I decided on our elaborate lie.

“I gave birth to her when I was eighteen,” I continued. I owed Grim the whole story. “I was young and stupid, and thought I was in love. When I found out I was pregnant, I told my boyfriend, thinking we’d face it together. He dumped me on the spot, said he wasn’t ready to be a father, and that I should… take care of it. My parents were so understanding. They supported me through everything. When Elysia was born, they adopted her as their own.” The memories flooded back – the paperwork, the quiet conversations late at night, the carefully constructed story we’d tell the world. “They wanted me to finish school, go to college, and have a normal life. We decided it would be easier if everyone thought she was my sister.”

I fell silent, the weight of my confession hanging between us. Grim didn’t move, didn’t say a word. I couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t tell if he was angry, or hurt, or both. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity.

“Grim?” I finally asked, my voice small and scared. “Please say something.”

He turned to me slowly, his dark eye sockets seeming to bore into my soul. I held my breath, terrified that I’d ruined everything between us. What if he hated me now? What if he thought I was a terrible person for lying about my own child?

Before Grim could respond, Death’s voice cut through the tension. “Camellia, wait outside. I need to speak with Ansel alone.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Death’s unwavering gaze made it clear this wasn’t a request. With a last, desperate look at Grim, I turned and walked towards the massive door, my steps echoing in the quiet room.

Chapter Twenty-One

Grim

I watched Millie walk away, her shoulders slumped. The massive door closed behind her with a soft thud, and I nearly bolted after her. The Halls of Death were no place for a human to wander alone, even for a few minutes. But before I could take a step, Death’s voice cut through my rush of emotions.

“Come closer, Ansel.”

Reluctantly, I turned back. As I approached the desk, Death’s ever-shifting form seemed to solidify slightly, their gaze piercing through me.

“Do you truly love this woman?” they asked.

The question caught me off guard, though it shouldn’t have. Death saw all, knew all. Of course they could easily see the depth of my feelings for Millie.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. It was the simplest truth I’d ever spoken, a truth that had become as much a part of me as the darkness that held my body together.

Death’s form rippled. “Are you aware that the deal she made cannot be undone? Ma-Vasha is a very powerful creature, and the agreement was fair.”

“I know, but I can’t let her die.”

“Why? Because you love her?”

“Not just that,” I admitted, thinking of all the reasons Millie had come to mean so much to me. I thought of her kindness, her strength, the way she faced impossible choices with a quiet grace that humbled me. “She’s the best person I’ve ever known. And I’ve met quite a few people in my time.”

A long silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the faint ticking of countless invisible clocks – a steady, ever-present reminder that even here, in Death’s domain, time marched on relentlessly.

Finally, the Breathless spoke again. “There is a solution.”

I leaned forward, eager to hear more. Anything, any glimmer of hope, was better than the overwhelming despair I felt at the thought of Millie’s inevitable demise.

“The third gift you were offered when you became a reaper,” Death said. “You can use it to save her.”

It felt like yesterday and, at the same time, like a lifetime ago – the day I became what I was now. There I was, Ansel Sullivan, lying in a ditch, my body ravaged by the lingering effects of mustard gas and the harsh reality of post-war life. Death appeared, not as the skeleton I’d imagined, but as a shifting, ethereal presence. They offered me a contract – an eternity of reaping in exchange for three gifts. The first gift was the scythe, which I would use to sever the delicate threads of life. The second, my cloak, a shroud of concealment that held my broken body together and shielded the living from the horror of my true form. And the third gift…

The Breathless gave me a new thread of life, a shimmering strand they called the thread of eternity. It replaced my severed life thread, knotting tightly around my breastbone. I’d never given it much thought before – just another part of the package deal that came with my new existence.

“You’re the only one who can cut it,” Death said.

Apparently, my thread of eternity existed outside the jurisdiction of the Fates, the sisters who spun, measured, and cut the threads of mortal lives. It was a loophole in the cosmic tapestry, a thread that only its owner could sever.

“A soul for a soul,” I said. “An eternity for a life.”

Death nodded, their form rippling like smoke in a breeze. “It’s a high price to pay, especially when you’ve already paid enough for things you didn’t do, Ansel. But yes, if you want to save this woman, this is the only solution I know of. A deal was made, and Ma-Vasha must be paid one way or another.”

I bowed slightly, unable to form words. My feet carried me out of the office on autopilot, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The enormity of the choice before me was staggering.

As I walked through the Halls of Death, searching for Millie, I tried to process what I’d just learned. If there was no other way to save her, I’d do it. No question. But the thought of telling her... No. I couldn’t. She’d never allow it, and I couldn’t bear to see the guilt in her eyes.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. Here I was, a being who had spent a century ushering souls into the afterlife, now contemplating giving up my eternal existence for a woman I’d known for mere days. If someone told me this would happen when I first took this job, I would’ve laughed in their face.

But Millie was worth it. I’d never met anyone like her. She brought light into my world of shadows, made me feel things I thought I’d long forgotten. As I searched for her, my mind raced through memories of our short time together. The way her blue eyes lit up when she smiled, how she stood up to anyone who threatened her loved ones, the gentleness in her touch when she cared for Lady Mews. Each moment we’d shared had chipped away at the cynicism I’d built up over decades of seeing humanity at its worst. Now, faced with the prospect of losing her, I realized just how much she meant to me. It wasn’t just love and lust. It was the way she made me want to be better, to believe that there was still good in the world worth fighting for.

The thought of her dying, of Ma-Vasha consuming her soul, was unbearable. I’d seen countless souls pass on, but the idea of Millie’s vibrant spirit being snuffed out... It made me feel hollow in a way I hadn’t experienced since I was human. But could I really do it? Give up my existence, my purpose, everything I’d known for the past century? The selfish part of me whispered doubts. What if she didn’t feel the same way? What if I made this sacrifice, and she moved on, finding happiness with someone else?

I shook my head, banishing these thoughts. It didn’t matter. Even if Millie ended up with someone else, at least she’d be alive. She’d be there for Elysia, watch her grow up, live the life she deserved.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Millie

As soon as I stepped out of Death’s office, the world tilted on its axis. The hallway seemed to stretch and contract, the walls rippling like water. My stomach churned, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back a wave of nausea. I needed a bathroom, desperately. Somewhere to splash cold water on my face and maybe lose my lunch in private. But as I stumbled down the endless corridor, every door I passed looked too ornate to be a simple restroom. They were works of art, each one unique and breathtaking. Under different circumstances, I might have stopped to admire them.

My head spun, and I leaned against the wall for support. The surface beneath my palm shifted, feeling like cool marble one second, and rough wood the next. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady myself. When I opened them again, a door directly across from me caught my eye. It was simpler than the others, almost plain in comparison. Without thinking, I lurched towards it and fumbled with the handle. I practically fell into the room, grateful to find the space slightly more stable than the hallway. It wasn’t a bathroom, but at least the floor stayed put under my feet.

As my vision cleared, I realized I was surrounded by shelves. They lined every wall from floor to ceiling, each one filled with small bottles. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. I blinked, wondering if I was hallucinating.

I stepped closer to examine one. It was made of clear glass, no bigger than my palm. Inside, I could see a tightly rolled piece of paper. A message? My curiosity got the better of me, and I reached out to pick up the bottle. As my fingers brushed against the cool glass, a shiver ran down my spine. These weren’t just random notes. They felt important. Like each one held a secret or a story. I turned the bottle over in my hands, marveling at how the paper inside seemed to glow faintly. What were these messages? Who were they for? My mind raced with possibilities.

The room was eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the soft clink of glass as I set the bottle back in its place. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. The nausea had passed somewhat.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they? They’re also deadly. All of them.”

I jumped out of my skin at the voice coming from behind me. I spun around, nearly knocking over a bottle. A woman stood before me, her presence striking and unsettling. She was beautiful in an otherworldly way, with eyes that seemed to hold centuries of wisdom.

“Who are you?” I asked. The room felt smaller, more intimate, as if the shelves were closing in around us.

“I’m the First Sister,” she replied, her tone casual, as if that explained everything.

I blinked, confused. First Sister? Of what? I had so many questions, but they all tangled up in my throat. Instead, I turned back to the shelves, gesturing at the bottles.

“What are they?”

The First Sister’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They’re prophecies,” she said, running a finger along the shelf. “I wrote them myself.”

Prophecies? Like, seeing the future? I’d seen some weird stuff since meeting Grim, but this took the cake.

“Does everyone have one?” I asked. I thought of Elysia, of Grim, of all the people I cared about. Did their futures sit here, trapped in glass?

The First Sister shook her head. “No, not everyone. Only those who irk me.”

I swallowed hard, not sure if I wanted to know the answer to my next question. “Do I have one?”

Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I felt like she could see right through me. “No,” she said. “You would have known if you did.”

Relief flooded through me, followed quickly by a pang of guilt. Why was I relieved? Shouldn’t I want to know my future, especially with everything going on?

The First Sister must have sensed my internal struggle. She placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch surprisingly warm.

“Trust me,” she said. “Not having a prophecy is a blessing. It means your future is your own to shape.”

I nodded, trying to take comfort in her words. But as I looked around at the countless bottles, each holding someone’s fate, I couldn’t help but wonder: how much of our lives was really up to us to decide? And what did it mean to irk a being who could write the future? What was I doing here, anyway? Grim was probably waiting, wondering where I’d disappeared to. I glanced around the room, suddenly feeling like an intruder in a place I shouldn’t be.

“I... I should go,” I said. “I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but time feels different in this place.”

The First Sister nodded, her expression unreadable. As I turned to leave, her hand touched my arm, light as a feather. I looked back, meeting her ancient eyes. Without a word, she pressed a small bottle into my palm. It was cool against my skin, and I curled my fingers around it. My gaze dropped to the label, and my breath caught in my throat.

“Ma-Vasha,” I read aloud. I looked up at the First Sister, questions swirling in my mind. “Is this... Is this her prophecy?”

She nodded, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Yes. I believe it might be of use to you.”

I stared at the bottle. This tiny thing held Ma-Vasha’s future? The being who held my sister’s life – and my own – in her hands?

“Why?” I asked. “Why are you helping me?”

She shrugged, the gesture oddly casual for someone so otherworldly. “I’m a cat person,” she said, as if that explained anything.

Before I could process her words, she was gently pushing me towards the door. “Off you go now,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I stumbled into the hallway, my head spinning. The bottle felt heavy in my hand, far heavier than its small size should allow. I slipped it into my pocket, my fingers lingering on its smooth surface for a moment. The corridor seemed different now, less dizzying than before. I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. What had just happened? And what was I supposed to do with Ma-Vasha’s prophecy?

“Millie!”

Grim’s voice snapped me back to reality. I turned to see him running towards me. He reached me in seconds, his bony hands gripping my arms as he searched my face.

“Are you okay? Where have you been?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but a wave of dizziness hit me. The events of the day – meeting Death, discovering the room of prophecies, the weight of Ma-Vasha’s future in my pocket – it all made me feel exhausted.

“I’m not feeling well,” I managed to say, leaning into Grim’s solid form.

His arm wrapped around me, steadying me. “I’m taking you home,” he said.

As he wrapped me in his arms and under his cloak, preparing to teleport us both, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The bottle in my pocket seemed to pulse with potential, with possibility. Whatever it contained, there was a chance it could change everything.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Grim

The moment we materialized in Asterhaven’s foyer, I felt Millie sway against me. I tightened my grip, steadying her. I was still reeling from the panic I’d felt when I couldn’t find her in the Halls of Death. For a second, I thought I’d lost her. I knew then, with certainty, that I’d give up everything – my existence, my soul, whatever was left of me – to save her.

Millie’s gasp snapped me out of my thoughts. “It’s night already? But we were only gone for a few hours!”

I was about to respond when a clatter from the kitchen caught our attention. Millie tensed, and I instinctively moved in front of her. We crept towards the noise. As we entered the kitchen, we found Elysia in the middle of what looked like a culinary warzone. Pots and pans littered every surface, flour dusted the countertops like snow, and something that might have once been pasta was stuck to the ceiling.

“Elysia!” Millie cried, rushing to hug her sister. Or rather… daughter.

The girl’s eyes welled up. “I’m sorry. I wanted to make dinner, but...”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Millie soothed, stroking Elysia’s hair. “It’s fine, really.”

I hung back, feeling like an intruder in this tender moment.

Millie pulled away from Elysia. “Why don’t you go set the table in the dining room? We’ll handle this.”

Elysia nodded, eyes lighting up. “Oh! How’s Lady Mews? Did you see her at the vet?”

I saw Millie freeze for a split second, her eyes darting to me in panic. “Oh, yes,” she said, her voice a touch too high. “I did. She’s doing great, sweetie. The vet says she’ll be home soon.”

Elysia beamed and scampered off to the dining room. As soon as she was out of earshot, Millie’s shoulders slumped.

“I completely forgot about that,” she whispered. “I told her this morning I was going to visit Lady Mews.”

I moved closer, careful not to step on any of the debris littering the floor. “You did what you had to,” I said softly. “No use worrying her unnecessarily.”

Millie nodded, but I could see the guilt eating at her. She started gathering up pots and pans, her movements mechanical. I joined her, picking up a particularly mangled wooden spoon.

“You know,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, “I’ve seen battlefields that were less chaotic than this kitchen.”

She let out a small laugh, but I could tell not even my poor joke could cheer her up. As I watched Millie clean up the kitchen disaster, my mind raced. How had I not seen it before? Elysia wasn’t just Millie’s sister; she was her daughter. The resemblance was uncanny, and now that I knew the truth, it seemed blindingly obvious.

“I know. I’m an awful person,” Millie said, her voice barely above a whisper, so Elysia wouldn’t hear. “I keep lying to her, it’s like I can’t stop. What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey, now,” I said. “Some lies are harmless, you know. And you’re clearly doing it out of love.”

Millie looked up at me, her blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. It was a look I’d seen countless times before – on the faces of mothers protecting their children, of soldiers shielding their comrades from harsh truths. It was the look of someone carrying a burden too heavy for one person.

“Elysia’s just a kid,” I continued, stepping closer to her. “She’s too young to deal with all this stuff. It’s natural for the adults in her life to want to protect her.”

Millie nodded, but I could see the doubt still lingering in her eyes. I wanted to tell her everything then – about Death, the third gift, the possibility to save her life. But I couldn’t. Not yet. So instead, I did the only thing I could: I reached out and took her hand in mine. The moment our skin touched, I felt that strange warmth again, like life flowing back into my dead bones. It was addictive.

“Listen,” I said, my voice low. “I’m on your side, Millie. You’re not doing anything wrong. You have your reasons, and they’re good ones.”

She squeezed my hand, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, Grim.”

We stood there for a moment, surrounded by the chaos of Elysia’s culinary experiment, hand in hand. It was nice. Too nice. I knew I should pull away, maintain some distance. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Millie’s eyes met my dark, endless pits, and I saw a flicker of desire strong enough to match mine. Before I could process what was happening, she leaned in, closing the gap between us. Her lips met mine, soft and warm against my cold, lifeless ones. And as soon as we connected, the familiar surge of life rushed through me. I felt my chest tighten, a phantom heartbeat pounding where my heart should’ve been. I pulled her closer, one hand cupping her face while the other rested on the small of her back. Millie’s fingers tangled in my cloak, holding on as if I might disappear at any moment. The kiss deepened, and I could taste the desperation on her lips. It was a kiss born of fear, of uncertainty, of the knowledge that our time together was limited. But it was also filled with something else – hope, maybe.

When we finally broke apart, she was breathing heavily. I rested my forehead against hers.

“We’ll figure this out,” I murmured. “Together.”

Millie nodded. “Together.”

Half an hour later, I was leaning against the dining room doorframe, watching Millie and Elysia at the dinner table. Their laughter filled the room. Elysia was animatedly recounting her cooking adventure, complete with dramatic hand gestures that nearly knocked over her glass of milk.

“And then the spaghetti went splat!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Right on the ceiling!”

Millie chuckled, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Well, that explains the new pasta-based ceiling decor.”

I couldn’t help but smile. These little moments, so ordinary yet so precious, were what made life worth living. I wanted to bottle them up, preserve them forever in my memory. After a century of dealing with death and darkness, this slice of normalcy felt like a breath of fresh air. As I watched them, my non-existent stomach twisted with guilt. Millie felt bad for lying to her daughter all the time, and I was lying to her now by omission, not telling her there was a way out of this mess. I remembered the look on her face when she lied to Elysia about seeing Lady Mews today. The pain in her eyes, the weight of that small deception. How could I burden her with more?

My thoughts drifted to Norman, that sorry excuse for a human being. I’d judged him harshly for abandoning his wife when she needed him most. But now, keeping this vital information from Millie… Was I any better? It was a sobering thought. For all my decades of existence, for all the wisdom I’d supposedly gained, I was still making very human mistakes. I was still lying, still hurting the people I cared about, all in the name of protection.

Maybe that was the real curse of immortality. Not the endless march of time or the weight of memories, but the fact that no matter how long you lived, you never really outgrew your humanity. You never stopped making the same old mistakes.

I watched as Millie reached across the table to wipe a smudge of sauce from Elysia’s cheek. Who was I to judge Norman, or anyone else for that matter? We were all just fumbling through life, some of us through eternity, trying our best to protect the ones we loved.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Millie

The next morning, Elysia’s mood took a nosedive. Her usual cheerful demeanor vanished, replaced by a sullen pout and teary eyes. No matter what I said or did, she remained fixated on one thing: seeing Lady Mews. I tried everything – distractions, bribes, even a bit of gentle scolding – but nothing worked. She was determined to visit her cat, and my arguments fell flat. As the morning wore on, I felt my resolve weakening. Elysia’s pleas became more insistent. I hated seeing her so upset.

Eventually, I knew I had to talk to Grim. I found him in the library, a place I’d been avoiding since my parents’ death. As I stepped inside, the familiar scent of old books and polished wood hit me like a wave. The room was quintessentially Tudor, with dark oak paneling lining the walls, and a massive stone fireplace dominating one end. Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with everything from classic tomes to modern bestsellers. My father had loved this room. I could almost see him sitting in his favorite armchair by the window, glasses perched on his nose as he pored over some dusty volume. The memory made my chest tighten.

Grim was standing by one of the tall windows. He turned as I entered.

“Grim, I need your help.”

He moved towards me, his cloak rippling like smoke. “What’s wrong?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s Elysia. She’s desperate to see Lady Mews. I’ve tried everything, but she won’t let it go. I think I need to take her to the pet hospital.”

Grim was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded slowly. “I understand. It can’t be easy, keeping her cooped up like this.”

“It’s not,” I admitted. “And I hate lying to her. But Grim, if we go out... those things, the Poppets...”

“Hey, I promised to protect you, remember? Both of you. I won’t let a single Poppet get anywhere near you or Elysia.”

I let out a sigh and nodded. I didn’t like this, but it needed to be done, or Elysia would truly start to hate me.

“All right, then. I guess we’re going on a field trip.”

As we left the library, I cast one last glance over my shoulder. The room seemed to whisper with memories, both painful and sweet. I made a silent promise to myself to spend more time here when this was all over. If it ever was.

The drive to the pet hospital was tense, with Elysia bouncing in her seat and me gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. Every few seconds, I found myself glancing in the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see a horde of Poppets chasing us down. But the road behind us remained clear, thanks in no small part to Grim’s presence in the passenger seat.

When we arrived, my sister practically flew out of the car to see Lady Mews. I watched her dash towards the entrance, and a mix of emotions swirled in my chest – relief at seeing her so energetic, worry about potential dangers lurking nearby.

Inside, I hung back as Elysia approached Lady Mews’ cage. The moment her eyes landed on her tortie cat, they lit up like a Christmas tree. It was a transformation so pure and joyful that I felt my own spirits lift. Lady Mews was looking much better, her leg almost fully healed. She purred loudly as Elysia reached in to scratch behind her ears. As Elysia played with her, cooing and petting, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. The constant worry and guilt I’d been carrying around eased just a fraction. Watching my sister – my daughter – so happy and carefree, even if just for a moment, made me realize it was worth the risk to come here. But as the minutes ticked by, the anxiety began to creep back in. My eyes darted to the windows, scanning for any sign of the grotesque clay creatures. The cheerful chatter of other pet owners and the smell of antiseptic suddenly felt oppressive. I needed air.

“Elysia,” I called softly. “I’m going to step outside for a minute. Will you be okay here with the vet tech?”

She barely looked up from Lady Mews, giving me a distracted nod.

Stepping outside, I took a deep breath. The parking lot was quiet, with only a few cars scattered about. My eyes found Grim, standing guard near the entrance, like a macabre statue. The people walking in and out of the hospital did a double take when they saw him, but soon relaxed. He was a monster in a world where humans and monsters lived together without conflict. Yes, he was an unsettling vision, but no more than, say, an orc or a golem, or a creature made entirely of dark smoke – yes, there were a few of those walking among us.

As I approached him, my hand went to my purse. I remembered the prophecy I’d forgotten to tell him about last night, and my fingers closed around the small bottle. I took it out.

“Grim,” I said, holding out the bottle. “I forgot to tell you about this last night. It’s... well, I’m not sure what it is, exactly.”

He took the bottle, his bony fingers careful as he examined it. “Where did you get this?”

I shifted my weight, suddenly feeling foolish for not mentioning it sooner. “A woman gave it to me yesterday. She said it was important.”

Grim uncorked the bottle and pulled out the slip of paper. His eye sockets seemed to darken even more as he read aloud, “When richest fur meets fated breath, you’ll find your end in silent death.”

I frowned, wrapping my arms around myself. “What does it mean?”

“I have no idea.” He turned the bottle over in his hands, as if searching for hidden clues. “But I can tell you this: the woman who gave it to you is one of the Fates.”

My eyes widened. “The Fates?”

“Yes. They only write prophecies for those who’ve pissed them off. Prophecies are always bad news.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I kind of got that from the ‘silent death’ part.” I paused, a thought occurring to me. “But isn’t it good that Ma-Vasha can be killed?”

Grim tilted his head, considering. The gesture was so human it momentarily threw me off.

“Yes and no,” he said. “It’s great that she can be killed, but she can only be killed in the way the prophecy says. If we don’t know what it means...”

“It doesn’t help us,” I finished, deflating. “Great. A cryptic message we can’t decipher or use.”

I leaned against the wall of the hospital, feeling exhausted. I closed my eyes, wishing I could wake up and find this had all been a bizarre dream. When I opened them again, Grim was watching me intently. Despite the empty sockets where his eyes should’ve been, I could feel the weight of his gaze.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said softly, moving closer. “We have time. Lady Mews still needs to heal, remember?”

I nodded. Grim reached out and gently touched my arm. The contact sent a shiver through me, hot and delicious.

“One step at a time, Millie,” he said. “Right now, let’s focus on getting you and Elysia home safely. We can worry about decoding cryptic messages later.”

I took a deep breath, centering myself. He was right, of course. There was no point in getting ahead of ourselves. I straightened up, squaring my shoulders.

“You’re right. Thank you for keeping me sane.”

The door swung open behind us, and Elysia rushed out.

“Millie! Millie!” she called. “The vet said Lady Mews can come home in two days!”

My heart swelled at her enthusiasm. Seeing her happy, healthy, and full of life was everything I’d ever wanted.

“That’s wonderful,” I said. “Did she say anything else?”

Elysia nodded, her eyes wide and serious. “She said she healed really fast and isn’t in danger anymore. But we have to take good care of her at home and not let her climb things.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her earnest recitation. She’d always been attentive when it came to Lady Mews, treating the cat’s care like a sacred duty. It was one of the many things that made her so special.

“We’ll make sure to follow those instructions to the letter,” I assured her, giving her a quick hug.

That was when something caught my eye. A flicker of movement around the corner of the building. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the jerky, unnatural gait of a Poppet. Fear surged through me. I glanced at Grim, seeing the tension in his posture. He’d spotted it, too. We needed to leave. Now.

“Hey, Elysia,” I said, keeping my voice light despite the panic building inside me. “Why don’t we head home and start getting everything ready for Lady Mews? We want her to have the perfect welcome, right?”

Elysia nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to the danger lurking just out of sight. I took her hand, guiding her towards the car with what I hoped was casual haste.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Grim

As I moved from room to room, my mind kept drifting back what had happened at the pet hospital. We were living on borrowed time. This little bubble of normalcy we’d created was fragile, ready to burst at any moment. I paused by a window, peering through a gap in the curtains. The grounds of Asterhaven Estate stretched out before me, still in the fading light. It was beautiful, in a melancholy sort of way. The kind of place where you could almost believe in happy endings.

Almost.

But I’d seen too much and lived too long to buy into that fantasy. The world didn’t work that way. Not for people like us. Not for me, a walking corpse held together by magic and darkness. And not for Millie, a woman who’d made a deal with a soul-eating monster to save her sister.

Her daughter, I reminded myself.

I heard laughter from the kitchen and drifted that way, drawn by the sound like a moth to a flame. Millie and Elysia were baking cookies, flour dusting their clothes, and smiles lighting up their faces. It was such a normal, domestic scene that it made my chest ache with a phantom pain. For a moment, I let myself imagine a different life. One where I was just a man, not a decades-old Grim Reaper, where I could walk into the kitchen, wrap my arms around Millie, and be part of that laughter. Where we could raise Elysia together, watch her grow up, grow old ourselves...

But that was a fool’s dream, and I wasn’t a fool.

The truth was that as long as Ma-Vasha had her claws in this family, there was no chance for that kind of happiness. We couldn’t just hide away in this house forever, pretending the outside world didn’t exist. Sooner or later, it would all come crashing down around us. And when it did, who would pay the price? Millie? Or Elysia, an innocent child caught in the crossfire of forces she couldn’t even begin to understand? The thought of either of them suffering made something twist inside me. It wasn’t just about the job anymore, it wasn’t just about fulfilling my contract as a Monster Security Agency bodyguard. This was personal now, in a way nothing had been for a very long time. I protected them both because it was my duty, but also because somewhere along the line, without me even noticing, they’d become my world. It was a dangerous realization, one that left me feeling exposed. Love was a luxury I’d never allowed myself until now.

But as I watched Millie show Elysia how to shape the cookie dough, I knew it was too late. I’d fallen, hard and fast, and there was no going back. So, I’d do whatever it took to keep them safe. To give them a chance at the life they deserved, even if it meant sacrificing my own existence in the process. Because that’s what you did for the people you loved.

Later that evening, I found myself in Millie’s bedroom, my arms wrapped around her as we lay in bed. The glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light across her porcelain skin, making her look almost ethereal. I marveled at how someone so alive could feel so right in the embrace of death. My fingers traced lazy patterns on her arm, feeling the warmth of her flesh against my cold, dead skin. I could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against my hollow chest.

Millie shifted slightly, turning her face towards mine. Her blue eyes sparkled with curiosity, and I knew a question was coming.

“Grim,” she said, her breath warm against my neck. “Ansel is such a beautiful name. Why don’t you use it?”

I tensed, my hand stilling on her arm. Of course she’d ask about that. I should’ve known it was coming. I took a moment to collect my thoughts, trying to find the right words to explain.

“I’m not that person anymore. Ansel Sullivan died a long time ago. I don’t feel like him. I prefer Grim. It’s what I am, it’s my job, my whole sense of self now.”

My fingers resumed their gentle exploration of her skin, tracing the delicate curve of her shoulder. I felt her shiver slightly at my touch, and it sent a jolt of electricity through me.

“Do all reapers think like that?” she asked.

I shook my head, my hand moving up to cup her cheek. “No, most of them still use their mortal names. They cling to what was before, to their past lives.” My thumb brushed across her cheekbone. How long had it been since I’d touched someone like this? Since I’d allowed myself to feel this way? “But I was nothing, no one,” I continued. “I don’t want to remember my mortal life. It’s easier this way.”

Millie’s eyes softened with understanding, and she reached up to cover my hand with her own. The warmth of her touch sent a shiver through me, a reminder of what I’d lost, what I could never truly have again.

“Millie,” I said. “Promise me something. Never call me Ansel. Please.”

She nodded, her fingers intertwining with mine. “I promise, Grim. You’re you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Her words made me melt inside. How could she say that? How could she look at me, know what I was, and still see someone worth caring about? Before I could spiral further into my thoughts, Millie leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. The kiss was soft, tender, full of unspoken emotions that neither of us was ready to voice. I responded instinctively, my hand sliding to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. The warmth of her mouth against mine was intoxicating, making me forget for a moment about the cold emptiness inside me.

As we kissed, I felt the familiar spark of life ignite within me. It was as if Millie’s touch had the power to breathe life into my dead form, even if just for a few moments. I could almost feel a ghostly heart beating in my chest, phantom blood rushing through long-dormant veins.

Her hand came to rest on my neck, where my pulse should’ve been, and it was as if her warm palm left an imprint on my dead skin. She curled her fingers slightly and dug into my neck, and that gesture alone poured energy into me, a wave so strong and delicious that I felt myself tremble. It moved down my body, settling in my lower belly, making my cock become impossibly hard. Millie was pressed flush against me, and she felt it. She parted her lips and let out a moan, and I took that opportunity to plunge my tongue deeper into her mouth. Her saliva was enough for the both of us. She was soft and wet, and all I had to contribute was darkness.

She pulled away and looked into my dark pits. “Take me.” She was panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Before I could react, she climbed on top of me, straddling me with her beautiful, pale thighs. Her nightgown rode up, and I caught a glimpse of her silk panties. There was an obvious damp spot on them, and she rubbed it along my cock, staining my black pants.

“Millie...”

She grinned, then her hands went straight for the buttons of my cloak. Underneath, I was wearing a shirt, so I wasn’t too concerned, but when she was done with the cloak, she went for the shirt, and I was shocked for a moment. I pulled myself together and grabbed her wrists to stop her.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I want to see you.”

“No.”

“Grim, I’ve seen you already. On the first day, on the rooftop of Monster Security Agency. And nothing happened. I didn’t run away scared, so why are you so self-conscious?”

“Millie, don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Because what? You can trust me. You can be real and vulnerable with me, Grim. You can be yourself.”

“I’m hideous,” I said. There was so much pain in my voice, and I couldn’t hide it. “I was hideous when I died, and I’m hideous now.”

Millie leaned forward, her raven hair cascading around both our faces, shielding us from the world outside. She cupped my skull face with her hand, and with the other, she toyed with the edge of my hood. She hadn’t seen me without my hood either. Except for that one time on the rooftop.

“No, you’re not. Don’t say that.”

“It’s the simple truth.”

“Let me see you and let me be the judge of that.”

She wasn’t going to give up this time, was she? The room was semi-dark, so maybe I could risk it... One thing was for certain – I would never let her see me naked in the full light of day. Still, I hesitated. It was unbelievable enough that this beautiful woman had fucked me once, knowing what was under my cloak. Now she wanted to fuck me again, but if I let her see... There was a good chance she would change her mind.

“Grim, you don’t have to be completely naked. I’ll just open your shirt, that’s all.”

We were negotiating. I owed it to her to try and meet her halfway.

“Here,” she said, straightening her back and pulling her nightgown over her head in one fluid motion. “Look at me. Focus on me and only me.”

The void that resided in my empty sockets took in her bare beauty. Her round breasts, her pink, perky nipples, the ribs that were slightly jutting out through her skin – she needed to eat more, but I knew she couldn’t due to the never-ending stress. Her stomach was perfect and flat, her arms so thin and elegant. She leaned over me again and took my hand in hers. She guided my hand over her breast, down her abdomen, until my fingers grazed her panties. She made me hook one finger inside her panties and showed me that she wanted me to pull. My digit was so sharp – made of literal bone – that it tore through the silk. Now she was completely naked, and it was impossible to resist her. Especially when she started rubbing herself against my clothed erection.

“Grim?” she asked gently, running her hand over the buttons of my shirt.

I didn’t look at her face, I focused on her incredible breasts. I nodded.

As Millie unbuttoned my shirt, revealing the marred skin underneath, inch by inch, I cupped her breasts with my hands and kneaded them, played with them, pinched her nipples, hoping this would distract her from thinking about how ugly I was. It wasn’t just my skin that was hideous – burned, melted, and scarred – it was also the fact that I was a literal skeleton. My bones were visible through the darkness that kept me together – white and glowing eerily, as if they were polished with magic. Which they were, technically. I was a skeleton covered in patches of flesh and a whole lot of darkness.

“I will remove your hood,” she said.

I hesitated, but what was I supposed to do? Tell her no when I’d already let her do whatever she wanted? I nodded again, grateful she was asking for permission.

As I felt the hood fall off my hairless skull, I focused on her body, running my hands down her sides, reaching behind her and gripping her firm buttocks. She let out a moan and rocked back and forth, applying pressure, making my cock throb. I wanted to be inside her, but she was in charge. I would penetrate her when she wanted me to penetrate her. She moved faster, rubbing her clit against me, pushing herself closer and closer to orgasm.

“See?” she murmured. “It’s not so bad.”

The hood was completely off, my torso was exposed, and I still didn’t dare to look into her eyes. When her fingers started working on my belt, I didn’t stop her. Didn’t protest. Of course she would want to see my cock next.

“Say something,” she said. “How does it feel?”

All I managed was a low growl. How did it feel? It felt like I was going to explode. I needed her so badly that my balls hurt.

“Grim, look at me...”

I forced myself to comply, afraid of what I would see in her eyes. There was no way she wasn’t at least a little bit disgusted. When my dark gaze met her sapphire eyes, she smiled down at me. Her face looked serene, albeit flushed with lust. She didn’t look at me like she should’ve – with contempt and disbelief that she was giving herself to an abomination. She looked at me like... there was nothing wrong. I wasn’t wrong, my body wasn’t wrong... It took me aback. Now I couldn’t take my eyes off her face. Not even when she pulled my cock out and rubbed her wet folds over my length, I didn’t look down, I kept looking at her.

Her lips parted, and she whispered my name softly as she rubbed herself against my hard cock, faster and harder, coating me with her juices. Then she stilled and let out a deep, long moan. Her body shuddered, and she closed her eyes as she came – a small, quick orgasm. She collapsed on top of me, pressing her lips to mine. The kiss was slow and languid at first, and as she regained her breath, it deepened, becoming more urgent, like she wanted me, and she wanted me now.

As I pulled her close, one of my hands moved down her back and over the curve of her butt. My finger dipped into her wetness, and she impaled herself on it, driving it straight into her pussy.

I would never get used to this woman craving me like I craved her... It was... unnatural. But was I ever going to say no to her?

Absolutely not.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Millie

Was it weird that I wanted to fuck Grim even if he looked like a skeleton? Did it make me weird? Maybe. Who cared? I was the woman who was going to have her soul eaten by an ancient monster. No afterlife for me. Might as well enjoy the present and not spoil it with useless judgments.

His cock was so pale that it was almost gray. It was thick and long, and perfectly smooth, with no throbbing veins, since his body was empty of blood and any other fluids. It should’ve been the opposite of sexy, yet somehow, it wasn’t. Sex was supposed to be dirty, people said. With Grim, it was so neat and clean that I didn’t even need to take a shower after. I wrapped my hand around his shaft and started stroking him slowly, and he soon rewarded me with wisps of darkness that flowed out of the slit and swirled around my hand, up to my wrist. It was like gooey smoke clinging to me, silky and cool. I used my other hand to cup his heavy balls, and Grim let out a grunt. More darkness seeped out of his engorged head, and I felt my pussy throb with need. I wanted his darkness inside me. I wanted him to pour it into me and fill me with it.

But what if before that...

I moved down his body and pushed his knees apart so I could settle between them. Grim sat up on his elbows and looked down at me, confusion etched on his skeletal face.

“What are you doing?”

I looked at him through my long, dark lashes, and grinned. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

He opened his mouth to say something – try to stop me, maybe – but I licked his length from his balls to the tip before he could form the words. He let out a growl, so deep and primal that it sounded almost animalistic. His bones started glowing. The magic inside him and around him reacted to my actions.

“Millie...”

“Mmm...” I couldn’t talk with my mouth full. And what was there to talk about? I wanted to taste him.

I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock and sucked gently. His darkness didn’t taste like anything in particular, and his skin tasted... like skin. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. His body didn’t produce any sweat or smells. It was easy to kiss him, easy to lick him. I wanted more just because I could see what my blowjob was doing to him. He trembled slightly under me, and I pinned his hips down and held him in place, so I could better attack him with my mouth. I bobbed my head up and down, pushing his cock deeper into my throat. I felt his darkness glide down my throat and make its way through my chest. It was cool and refreshing, and it didn’t follow the natural trajectory to my stomach. It was as if it had a will of its own, and once it found its way inside my body, it sought to spread through me, through every corner of my being, and wrap itself around my organs. I was inhaling it through my mouth, and it filled my lungs, hugged my heart, and wrapped itself around my liver. It was hard to describe... how it felt. Like Grim was claiming me... completely. The very essence of him was taking possession of me.

“If you keep doing that...” he said.

The way he spoke the words, low and husky, made me suck him harder. I moved faster, using one hand to rub his cock as my mouth moved up and down. He fell onto the pillows, his body tensing up. He let out a moan as he poured himself into my mouth, burst after burst of darkness slipping down my throat. I didn’t even have to swallow it. It just made its way inside me, filling my chest, rolling down into my stomach, wrapping itself around my ovaries and even reaching the inside of my womb. My mouth full of his darkness and his cock, my eyes rolled back into my head, and I came a second time without even needing stimulation.

No, that was wrong, in fact. I had stimulation. His darkness had filled my womb and was now pressing onto my cervix, thin wisps of it slipping into my pussy. The sensation was overwhelming and utterly sinful. It should’ve been impossible. I came fast and hard, my pussy shooting a stream of juices onto the white sheets. When I finally let Grim’s cock slip out of my mouth and I looked down between my legs, I saw that my juices were tinged with dark streaks that soon evaporated.

I sat up, panting. Grim reached for me, and I let him pull me back on top of him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I realized I was shaking.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Mhm.” I nodded into the crook of his neck, not trusting my voice to speak.

I was full of him. And it was strange, because he was undead, but the wisps of black magic his body produced made me feel so alive that my head started spinning. I wanted more. I needed more.

“Fill me again,” I whispered in his ear.

Before he got the chance to understand the meaning of my demand, I raised my hips, took hold of his cock, and impaled myself on him. He was wet with my saliva, and I was soaked so badly that I’d have to change the sheets after. His cock slipped inside me in a simple, swift motion, and my pussy enveloped it greedily, throbbing and pulling him in, wanting to milk him already.

“You’re relentless,” he said.

Of course I was. No one had ever fucked me this good. The few experiences I’d had eight years ago had been with one guy – Elysia’s father – and they’d been lackluster, if not downright sad. Two inexperienced idiots who should’ve focused on school instead of messing around, trying to do adult stuff. I didn’t regret it, because my daughter was the best thing that had happened to me, but I certainly didn’t miss it. I loved the fact that Grim was erasing all those memories. I was so full of him – literally – that it felt like he was the first man in my life.

I sat up and started riding him fast and hard. I placed my hands on his chest for support, and he cupped my breasts with his hands and held them, keeping them from bouncing painfully. He stared at me with those dark pits of his. His skull shined in the warm light coming from the lamp, and his skeleton glowed eerily. He was pure magic, and I didn’t even care about the patches of melted skin that covered him here and there, a reminder of what he’d endured in his mortal life. How could I hate those parts of his flesh? What had happened to him wasn’t his fault. His pain and suffering had made him into who he was, and he was the most amazing man I’d ever met.

I angled my hips just so, and his cock hit the most delicious spot inside me. I let out a small cry, trying to be mindful that we weren’t alone in the house. I closed my eyes, feeling the orgasm build in my core.

“No, look at me,” he said.

I opened them back and stared at his skull face. The only thing I would’ve loved was for him to have had eyes. I wondered what the color of his eyes had been when he was human. I bit my lip, unsure if I should ask. Earlier, he’d made me promise to never call him by his mortal name. He wanted to forget everything about Ansel Sullivan, while I wanted to learn everything about Ansel Sullivan.

“That’s it,” he said. “Look at me, Millie.”

I smiled. It was progress, for sure. From not wanting me to look at his naked form, to demanding that I stayed focused on him. As my pleasure mounted and mounted, I forced myself to keep my eyes open.

“You want to see what you’re doing to me,” I said. I let out a whimper followed by a moan. “So close. Are you close?”

“Yes.”

“Give me all you have. I want to be full of you.”

I bounced faster, and his hands moved to my hips. He gripped me tightly, helping me keep the rhythm. My breasts flew up and down, but I didn’t care. It was more erotic this way.

“I want you to be full of me,” he said.

“You’re doing this to me,” I said. The pleasure peaked inside me, and I let out a sound that was almost like a howl. “You’re making me come... so hard...” Those were the last coherent words I managed. I let out a cry and came all over his cock, my juices splashing onto his lower abs and down his balls.

Grim thrust upwards, holding me still as he came, shooting his cloying darkness inside me. I felt it fill my pussy and find its way through my cervix, up inside my womb. From there, it went up, up, up, spreading through my body, hugging my organs, until I felt it rise into my chest. I tilted my face towards the ceiling and opened my mouth. Wisps of darkness poured out of me, and I felt its slightly gooey texture on my tongue before it dissipated.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

I looked down at him, and for a moment, shock crossed his features.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Your eyes,” he said. “Their tinged with darkness.”

I blinked and chuckled. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I lay on top of him while his cock was still inside me, as hard as ever. He pulled his cloak over both of us.

“I’m great,” I said. “Stop worrying, Grim.”

He shook his head. “Impossible. You’re alive, made of flesh and blood, and I... I don’t know what the effects of what we’re doing are.”

“There are no effects. No negative effects.” I was feeling sleepy, and I really didn’t want to keep arguing about this. Why couldn’t he just relax? “Shh...” I stopped him when I felt he was about to contradict me. “Shh... Grim...”

“You want me to shut up?” He was probably frowning, but I was too lazy to sit up and check.

“Yes. Shut up,” I mumbled.

He shifted slightly, and his cock almost slipped out of me. I clenched my walls around him, not wanting to let him go.

“Don’t move,” I said. “I want to go again in...” Half an hour? An hour? I was exhausted. I yawned. “I’ll ride you again when I wake up.”

He chuckled. “Then I’ll make sure I won’t move. Unless you say so.”

I smiled and made myself as comfortable as I could on top of him. He wasn’t a bad pillow. I’d never slept with a cock inside me. It was a new sensation, and I realized... addictive.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Grim

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the polished hardwood floors of Asterhaven. I moved through the rooms like a ghost, my footsteps silent as I conducted my usual patrol. I scrutinized every corner, every nook. The scent of cinnamon and baked apples wafted from the kitchen. I paused by the doorway, watching as Millie guided Elysia’s small hands in rolling out pie dough.

Millie fascinated me. Born into wealth and privilege, she could have easily been another spoiled heiress, content to let others cater to her every whim. Instead, here she was, flour dusting her cheeks, patiently teaching her sister – her daughter – how to create something with her own two hands. It only made me admire her more.

I continued my rounds, my mind drifting back to the night before. The warmth of Millie’s skin, the softness of her lips, the way she looked at me like I was something more than a monster. I could dwell on these memories forever and never get bored of them.

As I passed by a window on the second floor, something caught my eye. A thin, silvery thread danced in the breeze outside, barely visible in the morning light. To anyone else, it might have seemed insignificant – just a stray bit of spider silk. But I knew better. The thread meant only one thing: someone was about to die. Someone I cared about, or I wouldn’t have seen it first. There was only one person it could be – Isabelle, Norman’s ex-wife, bedridden with cancer. My only human friend before Millie. Well, Millie was more than a friend now...

I’d made a promise to Isabelle just a few days ago. I’d told her I’d be there when her time came, that she wouldn’t have to face her final journey with the assistance of a random reaper. And now, that moment had arrived.

My feet carried me back to the kitchen. Millie looked up as I entered, her smile fading when she saw my expression.

“Elysia, why don’t you go wash up?” she said. The girl nodded, skipping out of the room, oblivious to the sudden tension.

I pulled Millie aside, my cold fingers wrapping gently around her wrist. “I have to go,” I said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, but there’s something I need to take care of.”

Millie’s brow furrowed. “Where are you going?”

I hesitated. “I need to see a friend “Help her... pass on. It’s my job, after all.”

She nodded, her fingers tightening on my cloak for a moment before letting go. “We’ll be fine,” she assured me. “Don’t worry about us. Go do what you need to do.”

I wanted to kiss her, to pull her close and delay what I needed to do for a few minutes longer, but duty called. So instead, I allowed myself one last lingering look before turning away.

The world shifted and blurred around me as I teleported. I materialized in Isabelle’s hospital room. The white walls and the antiseptic smell hit me first, a painful contrast to the warmth and cinnamon scent of Millie’s kitchen. There, on the bed, lay Isabelle. Her once vibrant form now seemed small and fragile, dwarfed by the medical equipment surrounding her. The silvery thread I’d seen earlier hung in the air, its end knotted around her breastbone. It shimmered faintly, pulsing with the last remnants of her life force. I moved closer, my footsteps silent on the linoleum floor. Isabelle’s eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The constant beep of the heart monitor seemed too loud in the quiet room.

As I approached, her eyes fluttered open. A weak smile curved her lips when she saw me. “Grim,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You came.”

I nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Seeing her like this, so close to the end, made my chest ache. I’d known this day was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Of course I came,” I finally managed. “I promised, didn’t I?”

Isabelle’s smile widened slightly. “You did. Always the gentleman.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “I don’t know about that.”

She reached out a hand, and I took it in mine. Her skin felt paper-thin and cool to the touch. I could feel her pulse, weak but still there, fluttering against my fingertips.

“It’s not fair,” I said, the words escaping before I could stop them. “You’re too young for this. You shouldn’t have to…”

“Shh,” Isabelle interrupted, giving my hand a feeble squeeze. “I’ve made my peace with it, Grim. I’ve had a good life. I have a beautiful daughter. What more could I ask for?”

I wanted to argue, to rage against the unfairness of it all. But the calm acceptance in her eyes stopped me. Who was I to question her feelings about her own death?

“Speaking of beautiful things,” Isabelle said, her voice growing weaker, “How’s that woman of yours? The one you told me about?”

Despite everything, I felt a warmth spread through me at the thought of Millie. “She’s... I think she might love me too. Or at least care about me a little. Which is fine. I’ll take it.”

“Good. You deserve to be happy. Promise me you’ll do everything you can to be happy. Even if you are a Grim Reaper.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Isabelle seemed satisfied with that, her eyes drifting closed again. The silvery thread pulsed once, twice, then began to fade. I knew what I had to do next, but I hesitated. This was always the hardest part. Isabelle’s eyes opened one last time, meeting mine. There was no fear there, only a serene acceptance. She nodded slightly, giving me permission.

My scythe suddenly felt heavy in my hand. It was ready to strike. I hesitated for a moment, looking into her eyes one last time. The blade sliced through the air, ethereal and sharp. It passed through Isabelle’s chest without leaving a mark, hooking around the silvery thread of her life. With a swift motion, I severed it. The thread dissipated into nothingness, and Isabelle exhaled her final breath. For a moment, everything was still. Then, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, Isabelle’s spirit sat up. She blinked, looking around in wonder before her gaze settled on her own body, now an empty shell on the hospital bed.

“Well, that was a trip,” she said, her voice stronger than it had been in months.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Even in death, Isabelle maintained her dry sense of humor. “How do you feel?” I asked, offering her my hand.

She took it, rising to her feet with a grace she hadn’t possessed in her final days. “Lighter,” she replied. “Like I’ve been carrying a boulder, and suddenly it’s gone.”

As we stood there, hand in hand, a door materialized before us. It was simple, wooden, with no distinguishing features, save for the soft glow emanating from its edges. Isabelle stared at it, a mix of curiosity and apprehension on her face.

“What’s on the other side?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea. It’s different for everyone. But whatever it is, it’s exactly what you need right now.”

She squeezed my hand. “Will it hurt?”

“No,” I assured her. “Nothing hurts anymore.”

Isabelle nodded, squaring her shoulders. She took a step towards the door, then paused, looking back at me.

“Grim,” she said. “Promise me you’ll look after Janine. And... try to knock some sense into Norman, will you? He’s an idiot, but he’s not a bad person.”

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. “I promise.”

She smiled, reaching for the doorknob. As her fingers closed around it, a blinding light spilled from the edges of the door. Isabelle turned the knob, and as the door swung open, I caught a glimpse of something beyond. It wasn’t pearly gates or fiery pits, but since this wasn’t my afterlife and I wasn’t supposed to know, I couldn’t comprehend the few details that I saw.

Isabelle took a deep breath, then stepped forward into the light. As she crossed the threshold, she looked back one last time, a peaceful smile on her face. And then, in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

The door remained, its edges still glowing softly. I stared at it, wondering not for the first time what lay beyond. And then it struck me that I might find out sooner rather than never.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Millie

After Grim left, Elysia and I finished making the apple pie. The sweet aroma filled the kitchen as we slid it into the oven. While Elysia sat down to munch on a snack, I went to use the bathroom.

As I walked down the hallway, a strange sound caught my attention. Scratching and banging echoed from behind the sunroom door. My heart leaped into my throat. Someone – or something – was in there, trying to get out. I was torn between investigating and running away. The sunroom had been locked since I’d summoned Ma-Vasha and made the dreadful deal. I’d kept it off-limits, convinced the room held some lingering curse. The last thing I wanted was for Elysia to go in there.

The noises ceased abruptly, plunging the hallway into an eerie silence. I held my breath, straining to hear. Nothing. The sudden quiet unnerved me even more than the commotion had. Despite every instinct screaming at me to turn back, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to check it out. With trembling hands, I took out the key from my pocket and approached the door. I always kept the key with me; I thought it was safer that way than hiding it somewhere and Elysia finding it. The metal felt ice-cold against my palm as I inserted it into the lock. The mechanism turned with a soft click. I pushed the door open, peeking inside cautiously. The room looked exactly as I’d left it – peaceful, bathed in the morning sunlight. For a split second, relief washed over me, and I took a step inside.

Wrong move.

An invisible force yanked me forward, and the world dissolved into chaos. I was spinning, tumbling through absolute darkness. My stomach lurched as if I’d been thrown from a great height. Freezing air rushed past, howling in my ears. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t tell up from down. My mind reeled, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. Panic clawed at my chest as I spun faster and faster.

I landed hard on a cold, wet surface, the impact knocking the wind out of me. For a moment, I lay there, struggling to catch my breath. The stone floor beneath me was unforgiving, its chill creeping into my bones. The damp seeped through my clothes, leaving me uncomfortably clammy. Slowly, I pushed myself up, wincing at the ache in my muscles. As I got to my feet, I took in my surroundings, and my heart sank.

I was in a vast hall that looked like it belonged in a medieval castle. Massive stone walls loomed around me, tapestries hanging on them, faded and tattered. Through tall, narrow windows, I glimpsed a stormy sky. Rain lashed against the glass, driven by howling winds that seemed to moan through the castle’s corridors. The castle appeared to be perched high on a cliff, giving me a dizzying view of the landscape below – jagged rocks and churning waves stretched as far as the eye could see. A fireplace dominated one wall, but the fire did little to warm the huge space. It flickered weakly, casting dancing shadows that only added to the room’s oppressive atmosphere. The air hung heavy and damp, carrying a musty scent. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself in a futile attempt to ward off the chill that seemed to penetrate to my very core.

In the center of the room stood a long table, its dark wood scarred and pitted with age. Ornate candelabras dotted its surface, their candles burning with an unnatural, bluish flame. My gaze traveled to the head of the table. There, watching me with glittering eyes, sat Ma-Vasha.

She was terrifyingly thin, her skin stretched tight over sharp bones. Claws tipped her elongated fingers, and when she smiled, I caught a glimpse of sharp teeth. Her hair was a wild tangle of silver and black. Her dress was made of some coarse material that looked as uncomfortable as everything else in this room. It hung on her frame like a sackcloth. I found myself puzzled by that. Shouldn’t a being of such immense power surround herself with luxury? But everything here seemed designed for discomfort, from the hard chairs to the rough stone beneath my feet.

As I studied Ma-Vasha, movement in the corners of the room caught my eye. Poppets stood silently, their blank faces turned towards me. They were unnaturally still, like dolls brought to life.

Ma-Vasha’s lips curled into a cruel smile as she leaned forward. The candlelight cast dancing shadows across her gaunt face, making her appear even more otherworldly.

“I’m done playing your silly little game, Camellia. It’s time to pay up.”

A chill ran down my spine, and I struggled to find my voice. My mouth felt dry, my tongue heavy as I forced out a single word. “Game?”

She waved a bony hand dismissively, her long nails catching the light. “I thought the Poppets would convince you, or at the very least, poison you slowly with their venomous bite. But you had to go and hire that Grim Reaper as your bodyguard, didn’t you?”

She knew about Grim. How much did she know? Had she been watching us this whole time? I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, trying to ward off the bone-deep chill that seemed to permeate this place.

“The Poppets have failed me,” Ma-Vasha continued, her voice dripping with disdain. Her fingers drummed on the table, an impatient rhythm that echoed in the vast hall. “They can’t get to you in your house or in your dreams. So, I decided to take care of things myself.”

“Ma-Vasha, please. I swear I’ll drink the poison and offer you my soul. I just need a little more time.”

Her eyes narrowed. “More time? You dare ask for more?”

“Please,” I begged. “Be merciful. I have every intention of holding up my end of the bargain.”

Ma-Vasha’s laughter echoed through the hall, a sound devoid of warmth or humor. “Merciful? Oh, you foolish child. I do not negotiate.”

I felt despair claw at my chest, and before I knew it, I was on my knees. The cold, damp stone floor bit into my skin, and I felt a sharp sting as my knees scraped against the rough surface.

“Please,” I whispered, looking up at her through tear-filled eyes. “I’m begging you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Ma-Vasha’s gaze bore into me, and I felt exposed, vulnerable. The darkness of the room seemed to deepen, broken only by the blue flames of the candles. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, and I struggled to draw a full breath. My heart pounded in my ears.

After what felt like an eternity, Ma-Vasha spoke, her voice low and dangerous. “You swear you’re good for it?”

Hope flickered in my chest, and I clung to it desperately. “Yes,” I said, my voice stronger now. “I swear it.”

She studied me for a moment longer, her eyes seeming to peer into my very soul. Then, finally, she said, “Fine.”

She flicked her wrist – a small, dismissive gesture – and the world blurred again. The castle, the candles, Ma-Vasha herself and her Poppets – it all faded away.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Grim

Millie was gone. I’d searched every room, called her name, called her phone – nothing. Elysia hadn’t seen her, either. The house felt too big, too empty without her. Panic was starting to settle in. Just as I was about to tear the place apart, the sunroom door creaked open. Millie stumbled out, looking dazed and disheveled. I felt relief as I rushed towards her. I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her under my cloak. The familiar warmth of her body against mine felt like coming home.

“Where were you? I thought we agreed you’d stay out of that room.”

Millie leaned into me, her breath warm against my neck. “Ma-Vasha,” she whispered. “She kidnapped me, took me to her castle. I don’t know where it was, but it was cold, and dark, and...” She trailed off, shuddering.

I tightened my hold, wishing I could shield her from more than just the physical world.

“But you’re back,” I said. “How?”

“I begged her,” Millie said, pulling back to look at me. Her blue eyes were wide, haunted by whatever she’d seen. “I asked for more time, and she... she actually agreed. Sent me back.”

My jaw clenched. “Just like that?”

Millie nodded, her hand coming up to rest on my chest. “I’m okay, Grim. Really. But it means she’s losing patience. The time for me to pay up is near.”

Her words hit me hard. I’d failed her, left her alone, and Ma-Vasha had snatched her away. If things had gone differently, I might never have seen her again.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should’ve been here. I could’ve lost you today.”

Millie’s hand moved to my face. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “You can’t be here every second.”

Though that was wrong. I was supposed to be here every second. I was her bodyguard! But before I could argue, she leaned in and kissed me. It was soft, tender – a reminder of everything I stood to lose. I kissed her back, pouring every ounce of my fear and desperation into it. When we broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers, trying to steady myself. The events of the day swirled in my mind. Isabelle passing on, Millie’s disappearance... I had to do better. I’d faced death countless times, both as a soldier and a reaper. But this? This fear of losing Millie? It shook me to my core.

“Grim?” Millie’s voice pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. “Where’s Elysia?”

I blinked, forcing myself back to the present. “In her room,” I said. “I checked on her when I was looking for you. She was upset, thought you’d gone out without her.”

Guilt flashed across Millie’s face. “I should go talk to her,” she said, starting to pull away.

I held her for a moment longer, not quite ready to let go. “Millie,” I said. “We’ll figure this out.”

She nodded. “We will.”

We made our way to Elysia’s room, Millie’s steps quickening as we approached. I hung back, giving her space. This was family business, after all.

Millie knocked softly. “Elysia? It’s me. Can we talk?”

Silence. Not even a rustle from inside. Millie tried again, louder this time. Still nothing. I watched as she pulled out her phone, dialing Elysia’s number. The faint sound of a ringtone echoed from behind the door, but no answer came. Millie’s face fell. She reached for the doorknob, twisting it gently. Locked.

“Elysia, please,” she called out.

I’d seen this before. Kids acting out, shutting down. Hell, I’d done it myself back in the day. But seeing it happen to Millie, watching her face crumple with concern, hit different.

She turned to me, shoulders sagging. “She must still be upset,” she sighed. “I get it. She’s been cooped up in here for so long, not seeing her friends. It’s normal for her to need space sometimes.”

I nodded, not quite sure what to say. Millie leaned against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment.

“We need to bring Lady Mews home tomorrow,” she said. “That’ll cheer her up. Maybe then she’ll talk to me again.”

I couldn’t help but think about how fragile all this was. Millie, worrying about her daughter’s mood when her own life hung in the balance. Elysia, blissfully unaware of the sacrifices being made for her. And me, stuck in the middle, wanting to protect them both but not knowing how.

The hallway felt too quiet, too still. Like the calm before a storm. I had a sinking feeling that bringing home a cat wasn’t going to fix what had been broken, nor what was coming.

Chapter Thirty

Millie

My fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel as I drove to the pet hospital. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about Elysia’s face when she’d see Lady Mews again. It had been over a week, and she was missing her cat like crazy.

“You know, we could’ve been there and back by now if you’d let me teleport us,” Grim grumbled from the passenger seat.

I glanced over at him, trying not to laugh at his pouty expression. For an all-powerful Grim Reaper, he could be such a baby sometimes.

“We can’t teleport Lady Mews. She hates traveling as it is. I don’t want to freak her out more than necessary.”

Grim crossed his arms, sinking further into his seat. “Fine. But don’t blame me when we hit traffic.”

I rolled my eyes, but my smile widened. Even when he was being difficult, I couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through my chest. It was nice, having someone to banter with on these mundane trips.

The drive to and from the hospital was surprisingly uneventful. No Poppets in sight, which was a relief. Maybe Ma-Vasha was actually keeping her word about the extension. It felt too good to be true, but I didn’t want to question it. Not when I had Lady Mews safely in her carrier, ready to go home to Elysia.

Back at Asterhaven, I carefully lifted Lady Mews out of her carrier in the living room. She meowed softly, stretching her legs and looking around curiously. I gave her a gentle scratch behind the ears before picking her up.

“Let’s go surprise Elysia,” I said to Grim, who nodded and followed me up the stairs.

We made our way to Elysia’s room, Lady Mews purring contentedly in my arms. I knocked on the door, my excitement building.

“Elysia? We’re back, and we have a surprise for you!” Silence. I frowned, knocking again. “Come on, sleepyhead. Don’t you want to see who’s here?”

Still nothing. Lady Mews let out a louder meow, as if trying to coax Elysia out herself. But the door remained closed, no sound coming from within. A knot formed in my stomach. This wasn’t like Elysia at all. Even when she was upset, she couldn’t resist Lady Mews for long.

“Here,” I said, handing the cat to Grim. “I’m going to get the skeleton key.”

I rushed to my room, my mind racing. Was Elysia just sleeping deeply? I tried to push away the darker thoughts creeping in, focusing instead on finding the key. As I rummaged through my drawers, tossing aside old receipts and spare change, I couldn’t help but think about my parents. They’d insisted on keeping the old locks when we renovated the house, along with the skeleton key that opened them all. Mom had called it romantic, a throwback to a simpler time. Dad just liked the idea of having one key for everything.

I paused for a moment, nostalgia washing over me. It was funny how the smallest things could bring back such vivid memories. I could almost hear Mom’s laugh as she twirled the key around her finger, Dad rolling his eyes but smiling all the same. The memory faded as quickly as it had come, leaving me with an all too familiar ache in my chest. I missed them so much, especially in moments like these. They would’ve known exactly what to do, how to handle Elysia’s moods and my own worries. But they weren’t here. It was just me, trying to hold everything together with duct tape and sheer willpower.

I shook my head, refocusing on the task at hand. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in memories or self-doubt. Finally, my fingers closed around the cool metal of the skeleton key. I pulled it out triumphantly, only to pause as I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I looked tired, wrinkles that hadn’t been there a year before etched around my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and headed back to Elysia’s room.

As I approached, I saw Grim still standing by the door, looking uncomfortable with Lady Mews in his arms. The cat was meowing more insistently now, as if she knew something was wrong.

“Got it,” I said, holding up the key.

My hand trembled slightly as I inserted it into the lock. I hesitated for a moment, a feeling of dread washing over me. What would I find on the other side? I pushed the feeling aside. This was ridiculous. Taking a steadying breath, I turned the key and pushed open the door.

The room was empty. My heart dropped as I took in the scene before me. Elysia’s bed was unmade, sheets twisted and hanging off the side as if she’d been in a struggle. The window stood wide open, curtains billowing in the breeze. But what made my blood run cold was the message on the floor, spelled out in straws:

Dinner is served.

My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor. This wasn’t happening. Elysia was gone, taken right from under my nose. And I hadn’t even checked on her properly last night. I’d just gone to bed, assuming she was asleep.

“No, no, no,” I choked out, tears blurring my vision. “This can’t be real.”

The reality of the situation hit me like a freight train. Elysia had been snatched away while I slept peacefully down the hall. My little sister – my daughter – was probably... I couldn’t even finish the thought. The idea of Elysia being hurt – or worse – because of my negligence was too much to bear. I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking back and forth as sobs wracked my body. How could I have been so stupid? So careless? I was supposed to protect her, to keep her safe. Instead, I’d failed spectacularly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I knew Elysia couldn’t hear me. “I’m so, so sorry.”

My mind raced, replaying every moment of the day before. Had there been signs I’d missed? I’d been so focused on her cat, on the relief of getting an extension from Ma-Vasha, that I’d let my guard down completely.

Lady Mews. I heard a commotion behind me. The cat had freaked out, probably sensing my distress. She let out a yowl and jumped from Grim’s arms, scratching his cloak. I barely registered Grim’s grunt of surprise. My eyes were fixed on the message on the floor, the straws spelling out my worst nightmare. Ma-Vasha had Elysia. She was going to – no, I couldn’t even think it. My breath came in short, sharp gasps. The room spun with me, and I felt like I might pass out. This was all my fault. If I’d just taken the poison when I was supposed to, if I hadn’t tried to buy more time...

“Millie.” Grim’s voice cut through the fog of panic, but it sounded far away. “Millie, look at me.”

I felt his hands on my shoulders, cool and steady. I wanted to look up, to focus on him, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the horrible message.

“Breathe, Millie,” Grim said, his tone gentle but firm. “We’re going to fix this, but I need you to breathe.”

I tried to do as he said, forcing air into my lungs. It hurt, like my chest was too tight, but I kept at it. In and out. In and out.

“That’s it,” Grim encouraged. “Now, I need you to think. Remember Ma-Vasha’s place? Where she took you yesterday?”

I nodded, the memory crystal clear despite my panic.

“Good,” Grim said. “I need you to focus on that place. Every detail you can remember. The sights, the smells, everything.”

I closed my eyes, picturing the vast hall, the massive stone walls with faded, tattered tapestries hanging on them. I remembered the tall, narrow windows that showed a stormy sky, rain lashing against the glass. The castle perched high on a cliff, giving a dizzying view of jagged rocks and churning waves below. The huge fireplace that did little to warm the space. The long table with its blue candles. The damp, musty air.

“That’s perfect,” Grim murmured. “Hold onto that image.”

I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me close. Despite everything, I felt a flutter in my chest at his touch. Then the world shifted and twisted around us. I would never get used to teleporting.

“Hold on tight,” Grim whispered in my ear. “We’re going to get her back.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Grim

We landed in the grand room of a medieval castle. Even though the cold and damp didn’t bother me, I couldn’t say I would’ve chosen this place as a destination... ever. The stone walls loomed over us, making me feel small. Tattered tapestries hung sadly, like they’d given up on trying to make the place look nice. I hadn’t expected a powerful creature like Ma-Vasha to live in such a dump. The whole place reeked of misery and decay. It was like she’d decided to make her home in the most depressing spot she could find. Maybe that was the point. A weak fire flickered in a massive fireplace, barely warming the room. The flames cast creepy shadows that danced on the walls. Outside, I could see a storm raging. The wind howled like a wounded animal, making the whole scene even more dramatic.

In the center of the room stood a long table, scarred and beaten up like it had seen centuries of abuse. Ma-Vasha sat at the head. Her skin was pulled tight over her bones, and her eyes glittered with a hunger that made my skin crawl. Next to her sat Elysia, looking tiny and scared. The contrast between them was huge – Ma-Vasha, ancient and terrifying, and Elysia, young and innocent. It made me feel sick, though technically... I couldn’t be sick. But it definitely reminded me of how it felt to be sick to your stomach.

In front of Elysia was a feast fit for a king. Roasted meats, colorful fruits, and rich desserts covered the table. It was like Ma-Vasha was trying to fatten her up, which made no sense. She wasn’t going to eat Elysia’s flesh, just her soul. Maybe it was some twisted form of kindness, giving the kid one last meal before... I didn’t want to think about what came next.

A glass filled with dark red liquid sat near Elysia’s plate – poison.

“Elysia, don’t drink from that glass!” Millie’s voice echoed off the walls and down endless halls.

I watched as Elysia’s small frame jolted at the sound, her eyes wide with confusion. She looked so lost, so out of place in this hellhole.

“Millie?” Elysia’s voice quivered. Her little hands trembled as she pushed her chair away from the table. “What’s going on? Is this a bad dream?”

If only this were a nightmare she could wake up from.

Millie’s face crumpled, her eyes pleading as she turned to Ma-Vasha. She took a step forward, but I gently grabbed her arm, holding her back.

“Please, stop this. Don’t hurt her.”

Ma-Vasha didn’t even blink, her eyes fixed on Elysia like a predator eyeing its next meal. She sat unnaturally still, barely seeming to breathe.

“I can’t eat another bite,” Elysia sobbed, pushing her plate away with shaking hands. “She’s been making me eat since she brought me here.”

Why force-feed the kid? It didn’t make sense.

“Why are you making her eat?” I asked, my grip on Millie’s arm loosening slightly.

Ma-Vasha’s lips curled into a smile. She leaned forward, her bony elbows resting on the table. She seemed excited at the question, eager to explain how her diet worked.

“Souls are sweeter when the sacrifice is in no kind of discomfort,” she purred. “Including hunger and thirst.”

Millie’s eyes flashed with anger. She jerked forward, trying to break free from my hold. I pulled her back gently, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Elysia is clearly in a lot of discomfort. She’s shivering. It’s freezing in here.”

Ma-Vasha shrugged, unbothered. Her long, spindly fingers tapped against the table.

“There’s nothing I can do about that. I can see what you think of me,” she continued, her gaze sweeping over Millie and me. “You believe I should live like a queen, not in this poverty.” She gestured around the dismal room with a sweeping motion. “But there’s a pesky little prophecy that prevents me from living the life I want. No matter. It’s a small price to pay to be alive.” Her eyes narrowed as she focused on Millie. “You should understand. After all, you’d do anything to keep yourself and your sister alive, wouldn’t you?”

I watched Millie’s face, saw the conflict and desperation in her eyes. She was trapped, her body tense against mine.

“Let Elysia go,” Millie pleaded, her voice breaking. She tried to step forward again, but I held her firmly. “I’ll drink what’s in the glass. It was always meant for me, anyway. You didn’t have to kidnap her.”

My entire being rebelled at the idea. I couldn’t let Millie sacrifice herself. Not after everything we’d been through. Not after I’d finally found someone who made me feel... human again.

Before I knew what I was doing, I stepped forward, gently pushing Millie behind me.

“I have a better offer,” I said, my voice steady.

Ma-Vasha’s eyes locked onto me, curiosity gleaming in their depths. She tilted her head, waiting.

“Let them both go. You can have my soul instead.”

I felt Millie’s hand grasp my arm, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t bear to see the pain in her eyes.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Millie

I clung to Grim’s arm, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. The cold stone floor under my feet seemed to mirror the chill spreading through my body.

“No!”

Grim turned to me, the dark pits he had for eyes impossible to read. His skeletal face was inches from mine, and I could feel the magic holding him together pulsing under my fingers.

“Millie, the Breathless told me this is the only way to save you and Elysia.”

I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. The room spun around me, the flickering shadows from the weak fire making everything seem unreal. Grim looked back at Ma-Vasha, who watched us with interest. She hadn’t moved from where she was sitting at the head of the table.

“Even if you’re a despicable monster,” Grim told her, his voice echoing off the damp stone walls, “A deal is a deal.” She made an offended sound, like a disgusted hmpf, her face twisting into a scowl. “There’s nothing illegal about it. After all, it’s not your fault you were born to eat souls.”

“Thank you,” Ma-Vasha said, sounding somewhat appeased.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. My legs felt weak, and I pulled Grim close, burying my face in his chest. His familiar scent surrounded me as I started to full-on cry, my tears soaking into the fabric of his cloak.

“Please, don’t do this,” I begged, my voice muffled against him. My hands clutched at his back, desperately trying to hold onto him. “It’s all my fault. I’m the one who messed up. I should be the one to pay.”

Grim’s arms wrapped around me, holding me tight. I felt so safe with him, even in this nightmare of a castle. He tilted my chin up, and I met his gaze through my tears, wanting the dark voids of his eyes to swallow me up.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. He kissed me, his lips cool against mine, and I savored the feeling, knowing it might be our last kiss. “I’m doing this because I love you. I want you and Elysia to live a great life together.”

My heart swelled and broke at the same time. “I love you too,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

As I looked at Grim, my chest ached with a deep, gnawing pain. He was the best thing that had happened to me in so long. Losing him felt like losing a part of myself. I thought of all the moments we’d shared, all the times he’d made me laugh or feel safe. How could I let him go?

But then I thought of Elysia, my little girl who thought she was my sister. She’d already lost so much. If I died, she’d be a complete orphan. I was torn between the two people I loved most in the world. How could I choose? How could I let either of them suffer?

“There has to be another way,” I said. I turned to Ma-Vasha, desperate for any other option. The ancient being’s eyes glittered with hunger, making my skin crawl. “Please, isn’t there anything else we can do?”

Ma-Vasha tilted her head, considering. For a moment, I dared to hope. But then she grinned, her teeth sharp in the dim light, and my heart sank like a stone.

“Your boyfriend said it: a deal is a deal. Someone’s soul must be mine. Choose quickly, or I’ll take the child’s.”

I looked at Elysia, so small and scared at the table, her face pale. Then back at Grim, his face set with determination, his skeletal hand squeezing mine reassuringly. The howling wind outside mirrored the turmoil in my heart. Time stood still as I faced an impossible choice, the weight of it crushing me.

Grim pulled away from me, his touch lingering for a moment before he stepped forward. My heart raced as I watched him reach for the clasp of his cloak. In his other hand, his scythe gleamed, ready to cut his eternal thread. I tore my gaze away from Grim to look at Elysia. She sat frozen at the long table, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. My little girl looked so small and helpless. I couldn’t bear to see her like this. Without thinking, I rushed to Elysia’s side. I scooped her up in my arms, feeling her tiny body tremble against mine. As I pulled her away from Ma-Vasha, I held her close, trying to shield her from the horror unfolding before us.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” I whispered, even though nothing was okay. “I got you.”

Elysia clung to me, burying her face in my shoulder. I could feel her tears soaking through my shirt. My own eyes burned as I turned to look at Grim and Ma-Vasha facing each other.

Grim stood tall, his bony fingers working at the buttons of his cloak. I wanted to scream, to beg him not to do this. But the words caught in my throat. I knew deep down that this was his choice, his sacrifice to save us. It made me love him even more, which only made the pain worse.

As Grim undid the last button, something unexpected happened. A small, furry shape darted out from underneath his cloak, shooting between his legs like a bolt of lightning. My eyes widened as I recognized the blur of tortoiseshell fur.

“Lady Mews!” Elysia and I gasped in unison.

I blinked, not quite believing what I was seeing. How had Lady Mews gotten here? Then it hit me – before we teleported, Grim had let her go. She must have snuck under his cloak without either of us noticing, clinging to the fabric with her claws when we teleported. For a split second, relief washed over me. Lady Mews was okay! She’d made it through the teleportation. But that relief turned to dread as I realized where she was running.

Straight towards Ma-Vasha.

“No!” I cried out, but it was too late.

Ma-Vasha’s clawed hand shot out, snatching Lady Mews mid-stride. She stood up as she lifted our beloved cat, holding her up for inspection. Lady Mews dangled from Ma-Vasha’s grip, looking small and fragile. I felt Elysia stiffen in my arms. Her hands gripped my shirt tighter as she peeked out to see what was happening. A soft whimper escaped her lips.

“Lady Mews,” the soul-eating monster said, her eyes filled with curiosity. “What a silly little name for a silly little creature. You’re the reason I’m starving right now.”

Ma-Vasha stared at Lady Mews, her ancient eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and amusement. The air in the dimly lit stone hall felt thick with tension. Our tortie cat, her fur standing on end, let out a meow followed by a hiss. I held my breath, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

To my surprise, Ma-Vasha laughed. “What a feisty little creature,” she said.

My palms grew clammy as I watched the soul-eating monster reach out one bony finger to stroke Lady Mews between the ears. Every instinct screamed at me to snatch our cat away, but fear kept me rooted to the spot, my legs feeling like lead.

Suddenly, Ma-Vasha started coughing. It was a harsh, hacking sound that bounced off the stone walls and seemed to shake the very air around us. She dropped Lady Mews, who immediately darted towards us, her claws skittering across the floor. Elysia squirmed out of my arms. She scooped up the cat, hugging her tightly to her chest.

Ma-Vasha waved her hand dismissively, as if to say she’d be fine in a moment. But the coughing didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse, each hack more violent than the last. Her face turned an alarming shade of red. She gasped for air between coughs, her chest heaving with the effort. As I watched, something finally started to make sense. Words I didn’t understand when I first read them.

“When richest fur meets fated breath, you’ll find your end in silent death,” I said. I was shocked by my own realization. “Oh my god! Ma-Vasha is allergic to cats!”

Ma-Vasha’s eyes bulged as she tried to speak between coughs. Her usually imposing figure seemed to shrink as she struggled for breath.

“No,” she wheezed. “The prophecy... It’s about wealth. ‘Richest fur’... refers to how... rich people... surround themselves with... furs and jewels.”

She paused, gasping for air, her hands clutching at her throat. Despite everything she’d done, I felt a pang of sympathy twist in my gut. No one deserved to suffer like this, not even a soul-eating monster.

“That’s why... all my life... I avoided... living in wealth and comfort,” Ma-Vasha continued, her words coming out in short bursts that seemed to cost her great effort. “So I... wouldn’t die. Prophecies are... never literal. They’re... metaphors.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It looks like this prophecy is literal. You’re simply allergic to animal fur.”

Ma-Vasha tried to laugh, but it turned into another choking fit that wracked her entire body. Her eyes rolled back, the whites showing. She collapsed against the table with a thud. Within seconds, she was gone, her body still and lifeless.

I stood there, stunned, my knees trembling. It seemed impossible that something as ordinary as a cat allergy could bring down a being as powerful as Ma-Vasha. But then again, maybe that was the point. Sometimes the simplest things could change everything. The irony of it left me feeling dizzy and slightly hysterical.

Around us, the Poppets began to fall. It was like watching dominos topple, one after another. They crumbled into piles of clay and straw, no longer held together by Ma-Vasha’s magic. The sound of their collapse filled the air, a strange rustling that sent shivers down my spine.

Lady Mews let out a pitiful meow from Elysia’s arms. I looked down at our cat, the unwitting hero of this bizarre situation. Her fur was ruffled, and she looked as confused as I felt, her big eyes darting around the room.

“Come on,” Grim said, his voice gentle but urgent. He placed a skeletal hand on my shoulder, the touch grounding me in reality. “Let’s go home.”

I nodded, relief washing over me in a wave so powerful it nearly brought me to my knees. Home. It sounded like the best place in the world right now, a safe haven far from this nightmare.

As we gathered close to Grim, ready for him to teleport us back, I couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly everything had changed. Just moments ago, I’d been facing an impossible choice, my heart torn between the two people I loved most. Now, we were all safe, thanks to our cat’s unfortunate effect on Ma-Vasha. The weight of fear and desperation that had been crushing me began to lift, replaced by cautious hope.

I wrapped one arm around Elysia and Lady Mews, feeling the warmth of their bodies against mine. My other arm found its way around Grim. As I felt the now familiar tingle of teleportation starting – a sensation like static electricity dancing across my skin – I closed my eyes. The last thing I saw before the world dissolved around us was Ma-Vasha’s lifeless form slumped over the table. As we began to fade from the gloomy hall, I sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever forces had brought Lady Mews to us at just the right moment. In the span of a heartbeat, the cold stone beneath my feet gave way to nothingness. The musty, damp air of Ma-Vasha’s lair was replaced by a swirling void. For a moment, we existed in a place between places, neither here nor there. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the sensation faded.

When I opened my eyes again, we were home. And somehow, against all odds, we were all still together.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Grim

Elysia crumpled to the floor, clutching Lady Mews to her chest. Her small body shook with sobs, the sound echoing through the grand living room of Asterhaven. The plush carpet muffled her fall. Lady Mews meowed softly, nuzzling against Elysia’s cheek. Millie knelt beside her. She reached out, her hand hovering uncertainly before gently stroking Elysia’s hair.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’re home now. We’re safe.”

I stood there, feeling as out of place as ever. A cat allergy. A soul-eating monster brought down by a cat allergy. It was so absurd that I almost wanted to laugh.

“The day you were going to drink the poison,” I said to Millie, “your cat walked in with a broken leg, and that stopped you. Lady Mews was the solution all along.”

Millie looked up at me, her blue eyes wide. The soft glow from the nearby lamp highlighted the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“That’s just unbelievable,” she whispered. Her hand stilled on Elysia’s head. “And yet it happened. I guess now it’s just a matter of wrapping my head around it.”

I nodded. The ornate grandfather clock in the hall ticked steadily, marking each second of this surreal moment. I’d been around for over a century, and I still found myself surprised by the twists and turns of fate. Or in this case, the Fates. The First Sister, to be exact. I couldn’t help but wonder what Ma-Vasha had done to piss her off so badly that she’d write such a ridiculous prophecy.

Elysia’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp with frustration. She pushed herself up, dislodging Lady Mews, who let out an indignant meow.

“I don’t understand anything!” she shouted. Her small fists clenched at her sides as she stood up. “Who is – or was – Ma-Vasha? What do you mean by… soul-eating creature? What were those straw monsters? And what does Grim mean when he says you were about to drink... poison?”

I winced at the questions, feeling a phantom pain in my non-existent gut. The kid had a right to know, but how do you explain something like this? I’d seen some messed up stuff in my time, both as a soldier and as a Grim Reaper, but this situation took the cake.

Millie tried to calm her down, rising to her feet and reaching out to her.

“All is well now, sweetie. You have nothing to worry about.”

But Elysia wasn’t having it. She pulled away from Millie, backing up until she bumped into the plush armchair behind her. Her face was set in determination, her eyes darting between Millie and me.

“No! I want to know the truth. Tell me what’s going on!”

Then she turned to me, her eyes narrowing. The intensity of her gaze made me want to take a step back, but I held my ground.

“And why did you kiss her? Are you her bodyguard or her lover?”

I froze, caught off guard by the directness of her question. If I had blood, it would have run cold. How do you explain to an eight-year-old that you’re both? That you started as one and became the other? That sometimes life, or in my case, un-life, throws you curveballs you never see coming? My jaw worked silently, struggling to form words. The room suddenly felt too warm. The ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to grow louder, each second stretching into an eternity.

I looked at Millie, hoping she’d have some idea how to handle this. But she seemed just as lost as I felt, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open in shock. She glanced at me, then back at Elysia, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The silence stretched between us. Lady Mews, seeming to sense the tension, padded over to Elysia and rubbed against her legs, purring softly.

Elysia stood there, not backing down. This time, she wasn’t going to run to her room and shut us out. Her eyes, so much like Millie’s, demanded answers. I felt like even more of an intruder when Millie began to tell her everything.

She started with Dr. Wallace, and I felt a surge of anger. That snake in a white coat, using a child’s illness to manipulate Millie! I’d seen a lot of awful things in my time, but preying on a desperate family? That was low. As Millie explained about Ma-Vasha, I watched Elysia’s face. Her eyes grew wide, filled with a mix of horror and disbelief. I’d seen that look before on the faces of soldiers realizing the true cost of war. It was a look that didn’t belong on a child’s face. When Millie got to the part about the poison, her voice cracked. I wanted to reach out, to offer her some comfort, but I held back. This wasn’t my moment. This was between them. Elysia’s face crumpled when Millie explained about Lady Mews and hiring me. I remembered how lost and scared Millie had looked that day at Monster Security Agency. She’d been willing to do anything to protect her sister, even face down a soul-eating monster.

The girls were crying now, holding each other tight. Elysia’s voice was muffled against Millie’s shoulder, but I could still make out her words.

“I love you so much. I can’t believe you would do that for me.”

“There was never even a question,” Millie said.

Elysia pulled back, wiping her eyes. “Can you sleep in my room tonight? With Lady Mews? I... I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course, sweetie,” Millie said, smoothing Elysia’s hair.

That was my cue. I turned away, feeling out of place in this warm, loving scene. My job here was done. Hell, I hadn’t even been the one to save Millie in the end. A cat had done that. A cat with a broken leg and impeccable timing.

As I moved towards the door, my thoughts were a jumble. Millie still hadn’t told Elysia the whole truth – that she wasn’t just her sister, but her mother. That was a bomb waiting to go off, and I was glad I wouldn’t be around to see the fallout. They were a family now, truly and completely. There was no place for me here. I was a walking skeleton, a reminder of death in a house that had just escaped its clutches. What could I offer them?

I reached for the doorknob, ready to slip out unnoticed. But as my fingers touched the cool metal, I hesitated. I glanced back at Millie and Elysia, still wrapped around each other. Lady Mews had curled up at their feet, purring contentedly. It was a perfect picture of family and safety. I stood there, frozen in indecision. Part of me wanted to walk out the door and never look back. To leave this warmth and love behind and return to the cold, familiar embrace of my solitary existence.

But another part of me, a part I thought had died along with my human body, wanted to stay. To protect. To... belong.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Millie

I held Elysia close, feeling her small body shake with sobs. My heart ached, but I also felt a sense of relief. The truth was out. Well, most of it anyway. I’d finally told her about Ma-Vasha, the deal, and everything that had happened. It was like a weight had been lifted off my chest. As I stroked her hair, I couldn’t help but think about the other truth I was still keeping. That I wasn’t just her sister, but her mother. The words were right there, on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back. Not now, I thought. She’s been through enough today. I glanced out the window, surprised to see how dark it had gotten. Time felt weird lately, like it was stretching and shrinking in ways I couldn’t understand. Elysia’s breathing was starting to even out, her tears slowing down. I felt a surge of love for her, so strong it hurt. Everything I’d done, all the risks I’d taken, they were all for her. And I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

“You okay?” I asked, pulling back a little to look at her face.

She nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I think so.”

I smiled, trying to look more confident than I felt. “It’s over.”

As I said the words, I realized I actually believed them. We’d made it through something impossible, something I never could have imagined. And we were okay. We were alive. I looked around the room, taking in the familiar sights of our home. The soft glow of the lamps, the ticking of the grandfather clock, even the purring of Lady Mews at our feet. It all felt so normal, so safe. But at the same time, everything had changed.

My gaze landed on Grim, standing awkwardly by the door. He looked like he was about to leave. He’d been here through all of this, protecting us and risking everything. The thought of him walking out the door made my chest tight. I couldn’t let him. I let go of Elysia and ran to him.

“Grim, wait!” I called out, my voice sounding more desperate than I’d intended.

He turned, his skeletal face unreadable as always, but something in the way he held himself made me think he was surprised. I paused, suddenly aware of how close we were standing. The air between us felt charged.

“I wanted to thank you,” I said. “For everything.”

Grim’s dark eye sockets seemed to bore into me. “I would do anything for you, Millie,” he replied.

My heart skipped a beat. I knew he meant it, and that knowledge filled me with a warmth I couldn’t explain. But then I noticed he was still facing the door, one hand on the knob.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

Grim shifted, looking almost uncomfortable. “My job is done,” he said. “I was going to head back to Monster Security Agency, ask them to refund you for the remaining days.”

“That’s out of the question,” I said.

Grim tilted his head, confused. “But–”

“I don’t care about the money. I don’t want you to go.” I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “It all ended well because of you, Grim. You took me to the Halls of Death, you protected me from the Poppets. You saved us.” I could feel my cheeks heating up, but I pressed on. “I still need you. I think... I think I’ll always need you.”

Grim stood there, motionless, and for a moment I was terrified I’d said too much. But then he took a step towards me, closing the distance between us.

“Millie, what are you saying?”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m saying we were meant to be, Grim. Everything that’s happened, all the crazy, impossible things we’ve been through... it all led us here. To this moment.” As I spoke, I realized how true the words were. All my life, I’d felt like I was waiting for something, even if I didn’t know what. And now, standing here with Grim, I felt like I’d finally found it. “I don’t know what happens next,” I admitted. “But I know I want you to be part of it.”

Grim was silent for a long moment, and I held my breath, waiting. Then slowly, he reached out and took my hand in his. The touch of his bony fingers should have been strange, but instead it felt right.

“Millie, I... I love you.”

I smiled, feeling my whole being fill up with joy. “I love you, too.”

We’d said it before, when we stood before Ma-Vasha, thinking one of us would surely die, and it had had a powerful impact then, but now... Saying it when the storm had passed and everything was calm and right, it had a deeper meaning. We loved each other. I was human, he was a Grim Reaper, and we were in love.

As Grim and I stood there, lost in our moment, Elysia interrupted us.

“Grim? Are you leaving?”

We turned to see her standing a few feet away, looking small. Her blue eyes, so much like mine, were wide and worried. My heart melted at the sight.

“I... well...” Grim stammered, his bony fingers twitching nervously at his side. He glanced between Elysia and me, clearly unsure how to respond.

“Please don’t go,” Elysia said. “I know it’s over, but I’m still scared. Can you stay?”

Grim looked at me, then back at Elysia. His face softened, the dark pits of his eyes seeming to warm up. “Of course I’ll stay.”

Relief washed over Elysia’s face, and she smiled for the first time since our talk. I felt a surge of affection for both of them.

“Why don’t we all get comfortable?” I suggested, placing a hand on Elysia’s shoulder. “It’s been a long day. Let’s get you in bed.”

We made our way upstairs, the old wooden steps creaking under our feet. Once in Elysia’s room, I sent her to wash up and change into pajamas while I quickly cleaned up the messy floor, threw the straws in the bin, and made her bed. A few minutes later, we were all settled in.

Elysia and I were tucked into her bed, the fluffy comforter pulled up to our chins. Lady Mews curled up between us and started purring loudly. Grim stood awkwardly by the bookshelf, his tall frame looking out of place among the stuffed animals and colorful books. He propped his scythe against the wall, as if to signal that right now, here with us, he wasn’t a bodyguard, and he wasn’t a reaper.

“Will you read my favorite book?” Elysia asked, pointing to a well-worn book on her nightstand. Its cover was creased and faded, a testament to how many times it had been read.

I smiled. “It’s The Neverending Story,” I told Grim, running my hand over the cover. “She knows it by heart. It’s her comfort book.”

Grim nodded, his fingers carefully picking up the book as if it were made of glass. He settled into the pink armchair next to the bed. As he opened the book, the spine cracking softly, I watched his face. Even without flesh, I could see the concentration in the set of his jaw, the gentleness in how he held the book. He started reading. His voice took on a rhythmic quality, rising and falling with the story’s cadence. Elysia snuggled closer to me, her eyes heavy but fixed on Grim. I felt her breathing slow down, becoming deeper and more even. The story washed over me, bringing back memories of countless nights spent reading it to her. But now, hearing it in Grim’s voice, it felt new and magical all over again. I found myself relaxing, sinking deeper into the soft pillows. The events of the day faded away, replaced by the comfort of this moment. Here, in this cozy room, with the two people I loved most in the world, I felt a sense of peace.

As Grim continued to read, his voice a soothing rumble, my own eyes grew heavy, and I dozed off.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Grim

I sat in the ridiculous pink armchair, which was almost too small for my frame, watching Millie and her sister sleep peacefully. Lady Mews was curled up between them, her furry body rising and falling with each breath. The sight made my chest ache, a feeling I couldn’t quite name. The scene before me… it was like something out of a dream. I looked down at my hands, remembering how they felt when I held the book earlier. The Neverending Story. What a fitting title for this moment. I wanted it to go on forever… this warmth, this sense of belonging.

But did I really belong here? The question nagged at me, refusing to let go. I was a Grim Reaper, for crying out loud! My job was to guide souls to the afterlife, not read bedtime stories to little girls. And yet, here I was, doing exactly that. I thought back to my life before all this. The war, the pain, the loneliness. Then the centuries of reaping souls, seeing the worst of humanity over and over again. It had made me hard, cynical. I’d given up on the idea of happiness, of love. But then Millie came along. Stubborn, brave, beautiful Millie. She’d turned my world upside down, made me feel things I thought were long dead. And now here I was, in her home, part of her family.

I looked at Elysia, her face peaceful in sleep. She trusted me, a skeleton in a cloak, to keep her safe. To read her stories and chase away her nightmares. It was a responsibility I never thought I’d have, but one I found myself wanting more than anything. And Millie... My gaze shifted to her sleeping form. She’d said she loved me. Me, a creature of death and darkness. She wanted me in her life, in her future. The thought made my non-existent heart race. This life they were offering me… it was everything I’d ever wanted but never dared to dream of. A family, a home, love. It seemed too good to be true. Part of me was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for it all to be taken away. But another part, a part that was growing stronger by the minute, wanted to grab onto this chance with both hands and never let go. To hell with being a reaper. To hell with my past. I wanted this. I wanted them.

I imagined waking up every morning to Millie’s smile. Having breakfast with her and Elysia, helping with homework, going on family outings. Normal, everyday things that I’d never experienced before. The idea of it filled me with a warmth I couldn’t begin to describe. But could I really have this? Could I, a creature of death, truly be part of a living, breathing family? The doubt crept in, cold and familiar. I’d seen too much, done too much. Maybe I didn’t deserve this happiness. And yet... Millie and Elysia didn’t seem to care about what I was. They saw past the bones and the darkness. They saw me. Just me. The thought made me feel oddly vulnerable, but in a good way.

I stood up and took a step towards the bed, drinking in the sight of them. This was what I wanted to protect. This was what I wanted to come home to every day. I loved them. Both of them. And I wanted to be part of their lives, no matter what.

Just as I was about to reach out and touch Millie’s hand, a movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned, my hand automatically reaching for my scythe. In the darkest corner of the room, a figure appeared. I recognized it immediately as one of Death’s messengers. These creatures were a strange mix of human and animal, their bodies twisted and unnatural. This one wore a heavy cloak that hid most of its features, but I could see glimpses of fur and scales peeking out from under the fabric.

“Reaper,” it hissed. “The Breathless summons you.”

I felt my good mood evaporate. Of course. Just when I was starting to believe I could have this life, duty called. Typical.

“Now?” I asked, keeping my voice low to avoid waking Millie and Elysia.

The messenger nodded, its misshapen head bobbing unnaturally. “Immediately.”

I sighed. I looked back at Millie and Elysia, still sleeping peacefully. They had no idea what was happening just a few feet away from them.

“Fine,” I said, turning back to the messenger. “I’ll be there.”

The creature vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving me alone once again. I grabbed my scythe, the weight of it in my hand a reminder of who and what I was. I took one last look at Millie and Elysia.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered, even though I knew they couldn’t hear me. “I promise.”

With a heavy heart, I focused on the Halls of Death. In the blink of an eye, Elysia’s cozy bedroom disappeared, replaced by the cold, dark corridors I knew so well.

I stepped into Death’s office. The room was vast, its boundaries shifting and unclear, much like Death themselves. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I noticed we weren’t alone. The Fates, the three sisters who controlled the threads of life, were here, too. They stood in a semicircle around Death’s desk, their ageless faces turned towards me as I entered. Great. Just what I needed – an audience for whatever was about to happen.

Death sat behind their imposing desk, their form constantly shifting like smoke in a breeze. When they spoke, their voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“Ah, Ansel. Thank you for coming so promptly.”

I nodded, trying to keep my face neutral. “Not like I had much choice in the matter.”

The First Sister, the one who spun the threads of life, stepped forward. Her movements were fluid, almost dance-like, and her long silver hair swayed with each step. Her eyes were bright, almost mischievous, as she regarded me.

“We’ve been waiting for you, reaper. Or should I say, hero?”

I would’ve raised an eyebrow had I still had them. Instead, I tilted my head slightly, my eye sockets narrowing.

“Hero? That’s a new one. Usually, I’m the villain in people’s stories.”

She laughed. “Oh, but you are! You and that lovely girlfriend of yours. You’ve done something truly remarkable.”

I shifted my weight, feeling uncomfortable under her piercing gaze. My cloak rustled softly with the movement.

“Care to elaborate?” I asked.

The First Sister’s smile widened, revealing teeth that were just a bit too sharp. She clasped her hands together in front of her, practically vibrating with excitement.

“You’ve fulfilled a prophecy, my dear! One we’ve been waiting on for quite some time. Ma-Vasha finally got what she deserved, and it’s all thanks to you two. Well, and that cat, of course. She did a marvelous job.”

“I... We didn’t know,” I said, feeling a bit off-balance. “We were just trying to survive.”

The Breathless cleared their throat. “Be that as it may, Ansel, it’s time for you to return to your reaping duties. Your work with Monster Security Agency, while admirable, is not necessary in the slightest. You don’t need the money, after all.”

“It was never about the money,” I said. “I donate every cent. It’s not like I have expenses. No food, no fancy clothes, not even a house to call my own, since I travel all the time, all over the world.”

“Then why?”

I sighed, feeling the weight of centuries on my shoulders. My cloak seemed to grow heavier, pulling me down. I looked around the room, at the timeless faces watching me, and felt suddenly very old and very tired.

“Because I needed something else. Something that wasn’t just about ending lives. Don’t get me wrong, I know death is natural. But it’s a heavy burden to bear, day in and day out. It was wearing me down, making me lose faith in... well, everything.”

The Second Sister, who measured the threads of life, nodded sympathetically. She stepped forward. In her hands, she held a golden measuring rod, which she tapped thoughtfully against her palm.

“We understand, Ansel. Truly, we do. But we need you back. Your skills are invaluable.”

I looked at each of them in turn, these beings who held so much power over life and death. They needed me. It was a strange feeling, being needed by such cosmic forces. I shifted my weight again, considering my options. I guessed it was easier to get me back on their side than making a new reaper and training them to do my job.

“I can do both,” I said. “I can reap and still work for the MSA. It’s not like I need sleep, after all.”

Death’s form rippled. The movement sent shadows dancing across the walls of the office. When they spoke, their voice was softer than before, almost gentle.

“Can you, though? Now that you have a family?”

A family. The thought filled me with warmth, but also with a deep, primal fear. I could feel the eyes of the Fates on me, watching my reaction.

“Am I... Am I allowed to have a family?” I asked, hating how vulnerable I sounded. My voice cracked on the word ‘family’, betraying my emotions.

To my surprise, it was the Third Sister, the one who cut the threads of life, who answered.

“Of course you are, Ansel. You’ve earned this chance. You should take it.”

I was stunned. My scythe slipped from my grasp, clattering loudly on the floor. The sound echoed through the room, but I barely noticed. A family. Things I’d never dared to dream of, suddenly within my grasp, and I had the blessing of the Fates and the Breathless themselves.

“I... Thank you,” I managed to say. I bent down to retrieve my scythe, using the moment to compose myself. When I straightened, I met Death’s gaze squarely. “I’ll do my best.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Millie

I woke up with a start, the morning light streaming through Elysia’s curtains. For a moment, I was disoriented, but then the events of the previous day came rushing back. I looked around, expecting to see Grim still in the armchair, but he was gone. Elysia was fast asleep next to me, her chest rising and falling peacefully. Lady Mews, however, was wide awake and meowing softly, demanding breakfast. I carefully got out of the bed, trying not to disturb Elysia, and scooped up the cat.

“Alright, alright,” I whispered to Lady Mews as I headed downstairs. “Let’s get you some food.”

As I walked through the house, I kept an eye out for Grim. I figured he must be in the library or maybe the living room. After all, he didn’t need sleep, so he had to be somewhere, right? But as I checked each room, my heart sank a little more. No sign of him in the library, the living room, or the kitchen. I set Lady Mews down and filled her bowl.

Had Grim left? Even after I told him I wanted him to stay? The thought made my stomach twist uncomfortably. I leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to make sense of it. Maybe he’d just stepped out for a bit, I told myself. But even as I thought it, I knew it didn’t feel right. Grim wouldn’t just leave without saying anything, would he?

I pulled out my phone, staring at the screen. Should I call him? My finger hovered over his contact, but I couldn’t bring myself to press it. What if he didn’t answer? The thought of that rejection was almost too much to bear. I set the phone down and ran my hands through my hair, trying to think. Maybe I could call Monster Security Agency instead? Talk to Norman, Grim’s handler? At least then I’d know if Grim had gone back to work.

I paced the kitchen, feeling more lost with each step. This wasn’t like me. I was usually the one with the plan, the one who knew what to do. But right now, I felt completely adrift. Part of me wanted to jump in the car and drive straight to the MSA office. At least then I’d be doing something. But what if Grim came back while I was gone? What if I missed him? I stopped by the window, looking out at the garden. Everything looked so normal, so peaceful. It was hard to believe that just yesterday, we’d been fighting for our lives against Ma-Vasha and her Poppets. And through it all, Grim had been here. He’d protected us, risked everything for us. For me. The memory of his words last night echoed in my mind. “I love you,” he’d said. Had he not meant it? No, I couldn’t believe that. Whatever was going on, there had to be an explanation. Grim wouldn’t just leave without a word. He wouldn’t do that to me.

I turned back to Lady Mews. She looked up at me, licking her whiskers after finishing her breakfast. Even she seemed confused by Grim’s absence.

“What do you think, Lady Mews? Where did he go?”

She just blinked at me, offering no answers. I sighed, picking up my phone again. Maybe I should just call him. Even if he didn’t answer, at least I’d have tried. I was about to press the call button when the air in the middle of the kitchen shimmered. I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. In the blink of an eye, Grim materialized right in front of me. He looked exactly as he always did, tall and skeletal, his dark cloak swirling around him. In one bony hand, he held a paper bag that smelled suspiciously like fresh pastries.

“Grim! Where have you been?”

He tilted his head. “I thought you might be hungry when you woke up,” he said, holding up the bag. “So, I went to get breakfast.”

I stared at him. All my worries, all my fears, and he’d just gone out for pastries?

“You scared me half to death!” I yelled, my relief quickly turning to frustration. “You couldn’t leave a note or something?”

I playfully punched him in the arm. Despite my anger, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for this ridiculous skeleton man.

Grim set the bag down on the counter and reached for me. “I’m sorry, Millie. I didn’t think…”

Before he could finish, he pulled me into his arms. The familiar chill of his body against mine sent shivers down my spine. He leaned in and kissed me passionately. My anger melted away as I lost myself in the kiss, my arms wrapping around his neck.

When we finally broke apart, I was breathless. “Don’t think this gets you off the hook,” I muttered, but there was no real heat in my words.

Grim’s dark pits seemed to sparkle with amusement. “Noted. Next time, I’ll leave a detailed itinerary.”

I was about to respond when a small voice interrupted us. “Eww, gross!”

We turned to see Elysia standing in the doorway, her nose wrinkled. I felt my cheeks heat up, but I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Morning, sweetie,” I said, stepping away from Grim. “Did you sleep well?”

Elysia nodded, her attention already shifting. “Can I play outside today? Please?”

I hesitated for a moment, memories of the Poppets flashing through my mind. But they were gone now, weren’t they? We were safe. I took a deep breath and smiled.

“Of course you can.”

Elysia’s face lit up, but then she grew serious. “I get it now, you know. Why you didn’t let me go out before. It was because of those creepy doll things, right?”

My heart clenched. Sometimes I forgot how perceptive she could be. “Yes, sweetheart. That’s why.”

She nodded. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you anymore. You were just trying to keep me safe.”

I knelt down and pulled her into a hug. “Thank you for understanding. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she mumbled into my shoulder. Then she pulled back, excitement returning to her face. “Can Lady Mews come outside with me?”

I glanced at the cat, who was watching us with curious eyes. “Okay, but be careful with her. She’s still not fully recovered from her surgery. No climbing trees, alright?”

Elysia nodded eagerly. “I promise!” She scooped up Lady Mews, who meowed in protest but didn’t struggle. “Come on, Lady Mews. Let’s go explore!”

As they headed for the door, I called out, “Remember, she’s still wobbly on her back foot. Keep an eye on her!”

“I will!”

I turned back to Grim, who had been watching the scene with an unreadable expression.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just... You’re amazing with her.”

I felt a pang in my chest. “Well, she makes it easy. She’s a great kid.”

Grim took a step closer, his dark cloak swirling around him. “Millie,” he said, his voice low and intense. “I–”

I didn’t let him finish. I closed the distance between us and pressed my lips to his. His lips were thin and cold, but I didn’t care. The kiss was soft at first, then grew more passionate. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. When we broke apart, Grim’s dark pits stared into my blue eyes. His bony hand cupped my cheek.

“Millie, I need to tell you something.”

My stomach fluttered with nerves. “What is it?”

“I want to be with you,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”

Joy burst through me like fireworks. “Of course I’ll have you,” I said, laughing. “I love you.”

But Grim’s expression remained serious. “You deserve so much more,” he said. “I’m just a bag of bones. I can’t offer you anything. You’re an heiress, Millie. You could have anyone, anything you want.”

I stepped back. “Stop,” I said. “Just stop right there.”

Grim looked taken aback. “What?”

“Grim, if I have learned anything in this life, it’s that material things aren’t important if you can’t share them with the ones you love.” I thought about Elysia, about our parents, about everything we’d been through. “Money and wealth didn’t cure my sister. It didn’t save my life. So please, stop talking about my financial situation like it matters more than how I feel about you.”

Grim was silent for a moment, his dark pits studying me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just... I want you to be happy.”

I reached out and took his bony hand in mine. “You make me happy,” I said. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time. Isn’t that enough?”

He squeezed my hand gently. “It’s more than enough,” he said. “I love you, Millie. More than I thought possible.”

My heart swelled with emotion. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him again, pouring all my feelings into it.

“Come on,” I said, tugging on his hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Grim hesitated. “What about Elysia?”

I glanced out the window, where I could see Elysia playing with Lady Mews in the garden.

“She’ll be fine for a little while. We deserve some time alone, don’t you think?”

A slow smile spread across Grim’s face. “Lead the way,” he said.

Oh, I was going to lead him... right where I wanted him.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Grim

She led me upstairs, to her bedroom, swaying her hips enticingly. She closed the door behind us and locked it to make sure we wouldn’t be interrupted. Always paying attention to the details, my Millie. She took both my hands in hers and pulled me to her, then playfully pushed me away. I stood in the middle of the room, looking at her with confusion. I’d already left my scythe propped against the wall, not wanting the sharp blade anywhere near her soft skin.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

She giggled. “Nothing. I was just thinking...”

“About what?”

“About how I know that you love me, and you know that I love you, and how... it’s time for me to see you naked. Completely naked.”

I froze. It was a sunny day, and the light streamed through the windows unhindered. Without the Poppets stalking, there was no point in keeping the curtains drawn anymore. While I’d been gone this morning, Millie had opened all of them, and the house shimmered in the warm light. It wasn’t like a tomb anymore. It felt vibrant and alive.

“Millie...”

“Nuh-ugh.” She stepped closer and pressed a long, perfect finger to my mouth. “Shh... Not a word. If I’m going to marry you, I’ll have to see you naked first.”

Had I had breath, she would’ve taken it away right now.

“You would... marry me?” It was suddenly hard to speak.

She shrugged. “If you asked...”

I would’ve never thought... never dreamed of asking... I felt dizzy, and I staggered back before I could catch myself and plant my feet firmly on the floor. I must’ve looked ridiculous, like a lost little boy. She giggled, amused by my reaction. I needed to get a grip, before she changed her mind.

But she loved me... I realized then that she wanted me to ask her to marry me. She wasn’t going to change her mind.

“I’ll ask,” I said. “I’ll ask you right now.”

I was about to fall to one knee before she laughed and clung to my cloak, pulling me close again.

“No, not right now. We’re doing something else now.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she lifted herself on her toes and kissed me. “Ask me later. With a ring and all.”

I nodded. I was such an idiot. Of course I needed to get a ring first. The biggest diamond ring I could find. She started working on my buttons, and I tensed up, but then did my best to relax. She wanted to see me naked. In the full light of day. She was my future wife, and I couldn’t say no to her.

I let her undo my cloak. Before slipping it down my shoulders, she cupped my skull face with her soft, warm hands, and gently removed my hood. I stared at her, my dark pits searching her eyes for any sign of regret. There was none. She truly wanted me in her life. She wanted to be bound to a skeleton. It was time for me to stop questioning her and her feelings for me. The fact that I was insecure had nothing to do with her. The cloak pooled around my feet, and I felt incredibly exposed. Since the Breathless had turned me into one of their reapers, I hadn’t taken it off. There had been no reason to do it. I hadn’t changed it, either. It was laced with magic, so it never got dirty or smelly. The fact that I was letting Millie undress me was unprecedented. But I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be the last time.

She unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off my shoulders. I removed it and dropped it to the floor, on top of my cloak.

“You wear too many clothes,” she said. “It’s not like you’re ever cold.”

“I didn’t use to wear a shirt before you decided to run after me on the MSA rooftop and grab my cloak.”

She laughed. “I guess I wanted to undress you the moment I saw you.”

She traced my marred skin with the tips of her fingers. She was so gentle that I felt the need to reassure her that the scars didn’t hurt anymore. My skin was pale, my flesh wrinkled and melted in places. Where I had no skin, darkness held me together. My bones glowed as Millie explored them one by one. She ran her hands over my collarbone, my breastbone, and my ribs. I fought the urge to step back and cover myself. She wasn’t frightened, and she wasn’t disgusted. She studied my body with curiosity, like she was unwrapping a present that had been promised but kept from her.

Her fingers went to my belt. I was already hard and throbbing to be inside her. She pulled my pants down, and I helped by stepping out of them and removing my heavy boots. And I was finally bare – utterly and completely – before her. There was so much light in the room, and my darkness seemed to swallow it, but today, the sun was too potent, so it won.

Millie took a step back and looked at me. My rock-hard cock stood up proudly, pointing at her, darkness seeping from the slit. It coated the engorged head and dripped to the floor, dissipating before it hit the plush rug.

“Grim,” she said. “I wouldn’t have any other man. I want you to know that.”

“And I wouldn’t have any other woman.”

I closed the distance between us, suddenly feeling confident. I pulled her in my arms, sunk my hand into her long, dark hair, and kissed her fiercely, tugging her head back. She responded with urgency, pressing herself against me. Now she was the one wearing too many clothes. I pulled at them in a frenzy, and she matched my energy. Before they fell on the floor and she was naked in my arms, a few of them most likely had holes in them from the sharp bones that I had for fingers. No matter. I would buy her a whole new wardrobe. It was time to stop donating the money I made working for Monster Security Agency and invest it in my wife.

“Take me,” she said. “I need you.” She pulled me towards the bed, and when we reached the edge, she turned around, pushing her butt against my cock. “Quick. Don’t hold back.”

I’d never seen her so desperate. It was as if we were running out of time, when in fact, we finally had all the time in the world. I gripped her hips, and she leaned over the edge of the bed. I guided my cock to her dripping entrance, but just before entering her, I hesitated. I watched in awe how her pussy gushed with juices. All we’d done was kiss, and she was so wet for me. From the tip of my cock, a wisp of darkness seeped out and floated in the air, going straight for her pussy. It entered her gently, and Millie let out a moan. It looked so inconsequential, like black smoke, but she could feel it. More darkness poured out of me and penetrated her, and for a few moments, all I could do was stare. We were connected by a string of darkness, and Millie was moaning louder and louder as it filled her.

“That is amazing,” she said.

“Describe it to me. Because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“It’s like you’re coming inside me, except your cum isn’t hot, but slightly chilly. I can feel it pushing against my cervix...” She let out another moan. “Mmm... that’s so good. It’s past my cervix now, and it’s filling my womb. It’s so good... I can’t... Oh, oh...”

She was coming, and I hadn’t even touched her. She shuddered, and I saw how her pussy clenched and unclenched, pulling in more of my darkness. The sounds she made were so lustful that my cock jerked and shot a glob of darkness onto her. It splashed onto her folds, and she felt it, because her pussy released a stream of juices that dripped down her inner thighs. The sight was so sinful that it made my head spin.

“This is better than human sex,” she said after she regained her breath. “To hell with human semen. Fuck me with your dark cock, Grim. Fill me with your shadows.”

As if I needed an invitation...

I plunged into her in one swift motion. She arched her back and pushed her hips against me, driving me all the way in, until the head of my cock grazed her cervix. She let out a cry and fisted the sheets, holding on tight. I fucked her hard and fast, and she encouraged me by meeting my thrusts. This wasn’t about taking our time, it wasn’t about exploring each other...

“Fuck,” she moaned. “Like that. Just like that.”

My bony hand traveled the length of her back and sank into her beautiful mane of hair. I gathered it into a ponytail and pulled her head back. She let out a cry and slammed back into me harder. I could feel her pussy throb around me, her walls eager to milk me. I wanted to pour myself inside her... My essence, all that I had, all that I was... I wanted to give it to her.

She was the only one that mattered.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Millie

My vision was starting to blur. Grim was giving me all he had, fucking me so hard and fast that it was almost too much. He was a supernatural being, after all, and compared to him, I was a frail little human. But I didn’t want him to stop, so I didn’t tell him I was close to my limit. I held on tight, my feet firmly planted on the floor, my knees pushing against the edge of the bed, my arms shaking as I held myself up. When the orgasm hit me like a wave, it nearly shattered me.

I saw black, so I closed my eyes, because there was no point in keeping them open. He stilled, and I felt him come inside me, his darkness pouring into me and enveloping me from the inside out. This time, it traveled through me faster, filling my chest and pushing out through my mouth. I opened my mouth and exhaled. I felt it come out of my nostrils. I tasted and breathed Grim, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My knees gave in, and I collapsed onto the bed. He caught me and gently placed me in the middle of the bed, so I wouldn’t roll to the floor. There was no more strength in my limbs. I felt weak and so light, like a leaf blowing in the wind. He could do whatever he wanted with me, and I wouldn’t protest. It was a while before I could think clearly again.

I lay in bed, nestled against Grim’s cool, bony form. His fingers gently combed through my long black hair, sending little shivers down my spine. The silence between us was comfortable, but I could sense there was something we needed to talk about. Grim cleared his throat, a strange sound coming from someone without actual vocal cords.

“What is it?” I asked him. “What are you thinking?”

“You know that... well, we can’t have children together. I’m not exactly equipped for that sort of thing.”

I felt a small pang in my chest, but it wasn’t as painful as I thought it might be. I reached up and traced the line of his jaw with my finger.

“I know. And it’s okay, really.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything because of me.”

“I’m sure,” I reassured him. “Besides, we have Elysia. She’s enough for me.”

Grim’s fingers stilled in my hair. “We? We have Elysia?”

I nodded, my cheek rubbing against his ribcage. “Yes, we. You’re part of our family now, Grim. If that’s what you want.”

His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer. “Of course it’s what I want. I just never thought I’d have the chance to be part of a family again.”

We lay in silence for a moment. Then Grim spoke again, his voice careful.

“Millie, about Elysia... Will you ever tell her the truth?”

I felt my body tense up. It was a question I’d asked myself countless times over the years.

“I don’t know. Maybe someday, when the time is right. But I’m not sure when that will be.”

Grim nodded, his bony fingers resuming their gentle stroking of my hair. “I understand,” he said. “It’s your decision to make. I’ll support you no matter what you choose.”

His words warmed my heart, but they also made me think. As much as I wanted this relationship with Grim, as happy as he made me, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He wasn’t like other monsters. Many of them had lifespans similar to humans, but Grim... Grim was different. He had lived once as a mortal, died, and now he was undead. He could potentially exist for eternity. The thought made my head spin. What would that mean for us in the long run? I tried to push the thoughts away, to focus on the here and now. On the feeling of Grim’s arms around me, on the peace and safety I felt in his presence. But the questions lingered in the back of my mind, persistent and unyielding.

Grim’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my skin. I was lost in thought, my mind wandering to places I wasn’t sure I wanted it to go.

“What are you thinking?” It was his turn to ask.

I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to voice my fears. But Grim deserved honesty.

“I was just thinking... you’re eternal, and I’m not. What happens when I grow old and... well, decrepit?”

Grim’s hand stilled for a moment before pulling me closer. “First of all, you’ll never be decrepit. I’ll love you no matter what, Millie. Age doesn’t matter to me.”

His words were sweet, but they didn’t ease the knot in my stomach.

“Maybe it matters to me,” I said. “I’m beautiful now, but it won’t last forever. I’ll grow old, Grim.”

He let out a low chuckle. “I can’t believe you’re worried about aging when I’m literally a bag of old, ugly, dead bones.”

I couldn’t help but laugh too. “When you put it that way, it does sound a bit silly.”

Grim’s hand cupped my face, turning it so I was looking into the dark pits of his eyes.

“Millie, listen to me. When the time comes and you have to leave this life, I’ll leave with you. I’d give up eternity for you.”

“Grim, I–”

He placed a finger on my lips, silencing me gently. “We shouldn’t think about it now. It’s a long time until then. Let’s focus on the present, on us.”

I nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Grim was right, of course. Why worry about something so far in the future, when we had so much to enjoy right now? Just then, the sound of Elysia’s laughter drifted through the open window.

“I should probably check on her,” I said, reluctantly pulling away from Grim’s embrace.

I slipped out of the bed and grabbed my gown that I’d carelessly thrown over the back of a chair some days before. As I tied the sash, I walked over to the window, drawn by the sound of Elysia’s giggles. The sight that greeted me made my heart swell. Elysia was in the garden, skipping and running, Lady Mews trotting after her, tail high in the air. Even from here, I could see the pure joy on Elysia’s face. I forgot about my worries. All that mattered was this moment, watching my little girl play without a care in the world.

I felt Grim’s presence behind me. His cool hand rested on my shoulder, and I leaned back into him.

“She looks happy,” he said.

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Happy didn’t even begin to cover it. Elysia looked... free. Like the weight of her illness, of everything we’d been through, had been lifted from her small shoulders.

“I never thought I’d see her like this again,” I whispered. “After the diagnosis, after everything... I was so afraid, Grim. Afraid I’d lose her, afraid I’d never see her smile again.”

Grim’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. “But you didn’t lose her. She’s here, she’s healthy, and she’s happy. You did this, Millie. You saved her.”

I shook my head. “We saved her. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

We stood there in silence for a while, watching Elysia play. My heart felt so full it could burst. This was everything I’d ever wanted – my daughter healthy and happy, and someone by my side who loved me unconditionally.

Epilogue

Grim

I stood at the end of the aisle, feeling more nervous than I had in my entire existence. The rose garden at Asterhaven had been transformed into a gothic wonderland. Black roses and thorny vines wrapped around the chairs, creating an eerie yet beautiful atmosphere. Candles flickered in ornate black holders, casting dancing shadows across the grass.

The guests were a mix of humans and monsters, an odd sight that would’ve been unthinkable in any other circumstance. On one side sat Millie’s family friends, all dressed in their finest. I spotted her aunt and uncle, the ones who would’ve controlled her trust fund if things had gone differently. They looked uncomfortable, probably wondering how their niece had ended up marrying a skeleton.

On the other side were my fellow Grim Reapers. They stood out in their dark cloaks, looking more like they were here for a funeral than a wedding. Norman, my handler, sat near the back with his daughter. They weren’t speaking to each other, which was no surprise. Some wounds took longer to heal than others.

The Second Sister stood beside me, practically vibrating with excitement. Of the three Fates, she was the most romantic. She’d jumped at the chance to officiate our wedding, saying how love stories were her favorite part of measuring life threads.

As I waited for Millie, my mind wandered. If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be standing here, about to marry the love of my life, I would’ve laughed in their face. Love wasn’t for the likes of me. I was a walking corpse, but Millie saw past that. I remembered the first time I saw her, how annoyed I was at being assigned to protect her. I thought she was just another rich girl who’d made a stupid deal. But she proved me wrong at every turn. Her kindness, her strength, her love for her daughter... she showed me that there was still good in this world.

A hush fell over the crowd, and I knew it was time. The soft notes of a harp filled the air. There she was, my Camellia, walking towards me with Elysia leading the way. The girl scattered rose petals from a basket. Both of them wore black dresses, a choice Millie had made to match my unchangeable attire. I couldn’t take my eyes off Millie. Her black dress hugged her curves, flowing down to the grass like a shadow come to life. She carried a bouquet of dark flowers in one hand, and a black umbrella in the other, shielding herself from the gentle drizzle that had started. The raindrops made her skin glow, and her blue eyes seemed to shine even brighter against the darkness of her dress.

In all my years as a Grim Reaper, I’d seen countless brides. Some happy, some nervous, some even regretting their choice. But Millie... she was something else entirely. She was the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen, and not just because of her looks. It was the love in her eyes, the determination in her stride, the slight quirk of her lips that told me she was fighting back a grin.

Elysia stopped in front of me, her face serious as she looked up at me. “Take care of my sister,” she said.

“Always,” I promised, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

As Millie reached my side, I took her hand and pressed my skeletal lips to it. The touch sent a jolt through me.

“We’re doing this,” Millie said, her voice a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“We are,” I replied, still amazed that this was happening. A part of me, the part that had been alone for so long, couldn’t help but ask, “If you’re still sure you want us to get married.”

Millie squeezed my hand. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

The Second Sister cleared her throat, breaking our moment. “Are you two lovebirds ready? Because I don’t have all day. I love doing this, but I also have life threads to measure.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at her, but I didn’t have any. Still, her impatience couldn’t dampen my mood. As the ceremony began, I found myself unable to focus on the words being said. All I could think about was Millie. I loved her in a way I never thought possible, especially for someone like me, who didn’t even have an actual heart. It was like she had breathed life back into my dead form, making me feel more alive than I had since I was human. As the Second Sister droned on about love and eternity – concepts she understood better than most – I marveled at how lucky I was. A woman like Millie – beautiful, kind, and fierce – had chosen me. Me, of all people. Or monsters. Whatever I was now. I thought back to my human life, to the scared, disfigured soldier I’d been. The runt who came back from the war only to die alone on the streets. If that version of me could see me now, standing here about to marry Camellia Aster, he wouldn’t believe it.

The rain picked up a bit, pattering against Millie’s umbrella. She moved it slightly, making sure I was covered too, even though the rain didn’t bother me. It was such a small gesture, but it hit me hard. This was who Millie was – always thinking of others, always caring. I glanced at the guests, at the strange mix of humans and monsters. Millie’s family friends looked uncomfortable, but I didn’t care what they thought. The only opinion that mattered was Millie’s. My fellow Grim Reapers stood stoically, their dark cloaks in contrast with the colorful outfits of the human guests. I caught the dark eye sockets of one of them, an old friend who had been there when Death first offered me the job. He gave me a slight nod, and I knew he understood. He’d seen me at my lowest, and now he was witnessing my highest point. I turned my attention back to Millie, drinking in every detail of her face. The way her black hair fell in waves around her shoulders, the slight flush on her cheeks, the curve of her lips as she smiled at me. I memorized it all, wanting to keep this moment forever.

As the Second Sister asked us to exchange vows, I felt a flutter in my chest. It wasn’t a real heartbeat, but it was something. A ghost of a feeling. It was Millie’s effect on me, making me feel things I shouldn’t have been able to feel. I opened my mouth to speak my vows, the words I’d spent weeks agonizing over. How do you tell someone they’ve changed your entire existence? How do you express a love that defies death itself?

“Camellia, before I met you, I was just going through the motions. Existing, but not living. You changed that. You made me feel alive again. You saw past what I am and loved me for who I am. I promise to love you, protect you, and stand by your side, for as long as we both exist.”

It was her turn. “Grim, you came into my life when I thought all hope was lost. You saved me in more ways than one. You’re my protector, my partner, and my best friend. I promise to love you, support you, and remind you every day that you’re more than just a Grim Reaper. You’re my everything.”

I felt the strange flutter in my chest again, stronger this time.

The Second Sister cleared her throat. “By the power vested in me by Death themselves, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She paused for dramatic effect, then added with a grin, “Grim, you may kiss your bride.”

I pulled Millie close, careful not to jostle her umbrella. As our lips met, the rain fell harder, but we were in our own little world. The umbrella shielded us, creating a private moment amidst the crowd.

When we finally broke apart, Millie was beaming. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” I replied, marveling at how easy the words came now.

We turned to face our guests, still embraced under the umbrella. The rain pattered around us, but all I could focus on was Millie’s warmth against my side and the feeling of her hand in mine. For the first time in over a century, I felt truly, completely happy.

Epilogue

Millie

Twenty-four years later

The sun dipped low over Lake Washington, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. I sat on the plush sofa on the patio, sipping my champagne and soaking in the peaceful moment. The party had been wonderful, but there was something special about this quiet aftermath. I heard the patio door open, and Elysia stepped out. My heart swelled with love as she approached. She kissed my cheek, her lips warm against my skin.

“Happy Birthday again, Mom,” she said.

I smiled, still not used to her calling me “Mom”, even after all these years. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Elysia glanced at her watch. “I have to get going. Brock has an early day tomorrow, and the baby is tired. It was a lovely party. And you don’t look a day older.”

I chuckled, knowing full well that wasn’t true. Gray hairs had started to appear, and fine lines marked the corners of my eyes. But I appreciated the sentiment.

“You’re sweet. Thank you for coming. It means the world to me.”

“Of course,” Elysia said, pulling me into a hug. “We’ll get together soon, okay? Maybe next weekend?”

“I’d love that,” I replied, squeezing her tight. As we pulled apart, I added, “Oh, could you ask Grim to join me out here on your way out?”

Elysia nodded. “Sure thing. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

I watched as she disappeared back into the house. As the door closed behind her, I turned back to the lake, lost in thought. My mind wandered to the journey that had brought us here. Telling Elysia the truth about being her mother had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I’d been terrified of losing her, of ruining the bond we had. But I should have known better. My brave, compassionate daughter had not only accepted the truth but had told me she’d suspected it all along. I smiled, remembering the day she graduated veterinary school. The pride I felt watching her walk across that stage was indescribable. And now, she was living her dream, working alongside her husband at their own clinic. They lived modestly, using most of Elysia’s trust fund to support animal shelters and run awareness campaigns. My eyes misted over as I thought about her ten-month-old baby, my grandchild. It was surreal to think that I was a grandmother at fifty. But then again, my life had never followed a conventional path.

I took another sip of champagne, savoring its crisp taste. The setting sun cast long shadows across the patio, and a cool breeze ruffled my hair. In this moment, I felt utterly content. Yes, there was a tinge of sadness – time was passing so quickly, and I wasn’t getting any younger. But mostly, I felt grateful. Twenty-four years ago, I thought I’d lost everything. I was ready to give up my life to save Elysia. But fate, or perhaps something else, had other plans. Now, here I was, celebrating my fiftieth birthday surrounded by love and joy. I thought about the guests who had filled our home earlier. Friends, both old and new. Humans and monsters alike. It still amazed me sometimes – this world we lived in. A world where a human could fall in love with a Grim Reaper, where friendships could form between the most unlikely beings. My life was far from perfect. There were still challenges, still days when the weight of the past felt heavy. But standing here, watching the sun set over the lake I’d grown up beside, I couldn’t help but feel that everything was exactly as it should be.

I heard the patio door open again. Without turning, I knew it was Grim. Even after all these years, my heart still skipped a beat when he was near. Grim sat down beside me and pulled me into his lap. I snuggled close, breathing in his scent as we watched the sun dip lower on the horizon. His arms wrapped around me, strong and comforting. I felt so safe, so loved. We shared a tender kiss, and I couldn’t help but smile against his lips. Twenty-four years together, and he still made my heart race. As we parted, I rested my head on his shoulder, marveling at how perfectly we fit together.

The sky blazed with oranges and pinks, reminding me of all the sunsets we’d shared over the years. Each one felt like a gift, a moment frozen in time just for us. I thought about how lucky I was to have found Grim, how he’d changed my life in ways I never could have imagined. He’d been here for me through everything – the ups and downs of raising Elysia, building our life together, facing the challenges that came our way. Even with his duties as a reaper and his work with Monster Security Agency, Grim always made me feel like I was his top priority. And Elysia, of course. He’d been an amazing father to her, patient and kind, always ready with a joke or a hug when she needed it most. Now, watching him dote on our grandchild, I fell in love with him all over again. The way his dark sockets lit up when the baby laughed, how gentle he was as he cradled that tiny body – it melted my heart every time.

I sighed contentedly, feeling truly at peace. This life we’d built together was more than I ever could have hoped for. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

“You okay, love?” Grim’s asked. “You seem lost in thought.”

I lifted my head to meet his gaze, smiling. “I’ve never been happier,” I said honestly. “The party was wonderful. Thank you for organizing it.”

He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. The guests have all left, and Elysia said goodbye. The maids are cleaning up now, then they’ll head out for the night. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

“Good,” I murmured, tracing patterns on his chest. “I want to be alone with you. Actually, I wanted to ask you for a special birthday present.”

Grim’s brow furrowed. “You don’t like the diamond necklace?”

I touched the sparkling jewels at my throat. “It’s lovely. But the present I want is... different. Not material.” Taking a deep breath, I met his eyes. “I want you to call the Breathless. I’m ready to join you in eternity, to be a reaper like you.”

Grim stiffened, then gently pushed me off his lap as he stood. He began pacing the patio, his agitation clear in every movement.

“Are you certain?” he asked, his voice tight. “Is this because you turned fifty today? Millie, you’re beautiful. In my eyes, you haven’t aged a day.”

I stood, wrapping my arms around myself. “It’s partly because of that, yes,” I admitted. “I’m happy with the life I’ve had so far, but I can’t stand the idea of growing older and older while you stay the same. I want to become a reaper now, while I’m still strong and full of energy.”

Grim stopped pacing and pulled me into his arms. Our lips met in a desperate kiss, and I tasted salt – my tears running down my face despite how hard I was trying to control my emotions. We parted, and Grim looked at me for a long minute.

“If that’s what you truly want,” he said softly, “then I’ll call the Breathless.”

My heart raced at his words. This was it – the moment I’d been both longing for and dreading.

***

What better place to do this if not the sunroom? I took Grim’s hand and led him to it. We entered it in silence. This room held so many memories, both good and bad. After what happened with Ma-Vasha, it took me a long time to find the strength to come back here. But now, it was one of my favorite places in the house. The late evening light streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished wood floor. Potted plants lined the walls, their lush green leaves reaching towards the ceiling. The air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers – roses and jasmine. My eyes swept over the room. The plush cream-colored sofas were scattered with colorful throw pillows. My painting supplies were spread out on a table near the window, brushes and tubes of paint waiting for my next burst of inspiration. An unfinished canvas sat on an easel, the beginnings of a sunset over the lake taking shape.

I turned to Grim, ready to ask him how we should proceed, but the words died in my throat. Behind him stood a figure I’d only seen once before, many years ago. The Breathless. Death themselves. How had Grim summoned them so quickly? I hadn’t even seen him make a call or send a message. But here they were, and this was really happening.

The Breathless glided into the room, their presence filling the space with an otherworldly energy. I couldn’t help but stare, fascinated by their ever-shifting features. One moment, they looked like a young woman with flowing dark hair. The next, an old man with wise, ancient eyes. Then a child with a mischievous grin. It was impossible to pin down their appearance.

Death’s gaze fell on me. Their voice, when they spoke, was neither male nor female, but a blend of all voices.

“Are you sure, Camellia?”

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. This was my last chance to back out, to change my mind. But as I looked at Grim, I knew this was what I wanted. What I needed.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.”

The Breathless nodded. “Very well,” they said, and snapped their fingers.

The sound echoed through the room like a thunderclap. My legs gave out from under me, and I collapsed onto the nearest sofa. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I thought I was going to pass out. Then I saw it. A shimmering thread appeared before my eyes, floating in the air. One end was frayed, as if it had been cut. My breath caught in my throat as I realized what it meant. The Third Sister had cut my thread in the Halls of Death.

The Breathless stepped aside, motioning for Grim to approach. “It’s time.”

Grim moved towards me, scythe in hand. The blade gleamed in the fading light, and I couldn’t help but remember the first time I’d seen it, all those years ago. Back then, it had terrified me. Now, it felt like an old friend. He knelt beside me, his free hand cupping my cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He gently pressed the blade of his scythe to my chest. I felt a strange sensation, like ice spreading through my veins. The blade passed through me as if I were made of mist, and I watched in awe as it cut the shimmering thread once more. As the thread fell away, I felt myself slipping. My body grew heavy, and I slumped back against the sofa cushions. I tried to take a breath, but my lungs wouldn’t cooperate. Panic started to rise in my chest, but then I felt Grim’s hand in mine, anchoring me. Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, slowly swallowing everything. It felt like I was sinking into a deep, dark ocean. But strangely, I wasn’t afraid. There was a peace to it, a sense of rightness. The darkness enveloped me completely, and for a moment, there was nothing. No sight, no sound, no sensation. Just an endless void.

Minutes later, I gasped as my eyes flew open. The world around me seemed sharper and clearer than ever before. The colors were brighter, the sounds more vivid. I felt young and strong, like I could take on anything. The first thing I noticed was the Breathless standing over me, their hand resting on my head. As our eyes met, they pulled away, taking a step back. I couldn’t help but stare at them, marveling at how their appearance kept shifting, never settling on one form for more than a moment.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I looked down at myself. What I saw took my breath away. My body was no longer flesh and blood, but a skeleton held together by swirling darkness. It should have been scary, but instead, it felt right. Natural. Like this was who I was always meant to be. A dark cloak wrapped around me, similar to the one Grim wore. It felt comforting, like a warm hug on a cold day. As I moved, the fabric seemed to ripple and flow, almost as if it were alive. Then I noticed the scythe lying by my side. Without thinking, I reached out and gripped the handle. A surge of power rushed through me, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It was exhilarating and a little scary at the same time.

I looked up at the Breathless, waiting for them to say something. Their ever-changing face settled into a serious expression as they spoke.

“You will reap for me now,” they said.

I swallowed hard, realizing the enormity of what I’d just agreed to. But I knew in my heart that this was right. This was where I belonged.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice stronger than I expected. “Thank you.”

The Breathless nodded once, and then they were gone. Just like that. No puff of smoke, no dramatic exit. One moment they were there, and the next they weren’t.

I turned to Grim, who had been standing silently nearby. He stepped forward, reaching out to help me to my feet. As I stood, I realized I didn’t feel the aches and pains I’d grown used to over the years. My body – or what was now my body – felt light and strong. Grim pulled me into a tight hug, and I melted into his embrace. We fit together perfectly. I noticed that we looked almost identical now, two skeletons wrapped in darkness and cloaks. The only difference was my long hair, which had somehow survived the transformation.

“Do you regret it?”

I shook my head without hesitation. “No. Not at all. Now we can spend eternity together.”

A wave of emotion washed over me as the reality of what I’d done sank in. I’d given up my mortal life, yes, but I’d gained so much more. An eternity with the man I loved, a chance to make a difference in the world in a way I never could have imagined.

THE END

Monster Security Agency

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About the Author

Cara Wylde loves to write about strong, feisty women and their hot Alphas who will do anything to make them happy. Her books are filled with romance and just a dash of mystery, suspense, and that eerie atmosphere she fell in love with reading too many gothic novels. With a master’s degree in Comparative Literature, she can’t help but play with tropes and themes from various genres, trying to come up with fresh perspectives on the paranormal characters her readers love so much. Vampires, shapeshifters, demons, witches... Cara will always make sure they get their own twists.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One – Grim

Chapter Two – Millie

Chapter Three – Grim

Chapter Four – Millie

Chapter Five – Grim

Chapter Six – Millie

Chapter Seven – Grim

Chapter Eight – Millie

Chapter Nine – Grim

Chapter Ten – Millie

Chapter Eleven – Grim

Chapter Twelve – Millie

Chapter Thirteen – Grim

Chapter Fourteen – Millie

Chapter Fifteen – Grim

Chapter Sixteen – Millie

Chapter Seventeen – Grim

Chapter Eighteen – Millie

Chapter Nineteen – Grim

Chapter Twenty – Millie

Chapter Twenty-One – Grim

Chapter Twenty-Two – Millie

Chapter Twenty-Three – Grim

Chapter Twenty-Four – Millie

Chapter Twenty-Five – Grim

Chapter Twenty-Six – Millie

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Grim

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Millie

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Grim

Chapter Thirty – Millie

Chapter Thirty-One – Grim

Chapter Thirty-Two – Millie

Chapter Thirty-Three – Grim

Chapter Thirty-Four – Millie

Chapter Thirty-Five – Grim

Chapter Thirty-Six – Millie

Chapter Thirty-Seven – Grim

Chapter Thirty-Eight – Millie

Epilogue – Grim

Epilogue – Millie

Monster Security Agency

About the Author

Chapter One