Call Me Grim (19 page)

“Well, I’m not.” He jumps up from the ground and backs away a few steps, as if I’m the beast that tore him up.

“Why not?” I say. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. It’s not you.” He paces in front of me, his hand pressed to his forehead. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re smart and funny and beautiful and so talented. It’s Abaddon and the rules and this whole stupid situation that sucks,” he says, but all I hear is the word beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful.

Snap out of it, Libbi.
I tell myself.
The guy’s a murderer.
But, even as I think it, I’m not so sure. Mrs. Lutz is convinced he’s innocent. Maybe those scars came from trying to fight off the real murderer. Maybe Aaron feels responsible because he wasn’t able to stop it.

Aaron stops walking and faces me. “I want to kiss you. So much. But I’ve chosen you as my replacement. That means in less than one week, I have to die. It doesn’t matter if I don’t really want to. I have no choice in the matter anymore. I made my choice when I saved your life.” His intense gaze lowers to the ground. “Even if you really did want to kiss me, Abaddon would not be happy.”

My breath catches in my throat. I thought he wanted to die. I thought the whole reason he saved my life was because he wanted to leap off Jumpers’ Bridge. He said it was his time.

“But why? Why do you have to die? Why can’t we both be Reapers?”

“Forget it. There can only be one Reaper in a territory. Those are the rules.” His arm covers his middle for a moment, guarding his scars; then he drops it with a look of defiance. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I thought I could kiss you. It was stupid and it won’t happen again.” He shoves his fists into his pockets and turns to the closest boulder. “We have a lot to cover today. So forget that ever happened and let’s get to work walking through this effing rock.”

“You can’t be serious.” He’s kidding. He has to be. He just admitted he wants to kiss me, but he can’t, and that he doesn’t want to die. How can he expect me to learn how to walk through a boulder after that? Not to mention walking through a boulder seems like a lesson for my third or fourth day of training, when I’m more advanced.

“I’m serious. You have to learn this.” He pats the rock and raises his eyebrows. So he’s not kidding. He’s lost his mind.

“Are you insane? Didn’t you see what happened to me when I tried to figure out that guy’s name? I was a mess.”

“Come on, Libbi.” He flashes a soft smile that dimples the curve of his cheek, but the sadness has returned to his eyes. “This is a lot easier to do than that was. This power has nothing to do with the Scythe. I’ll show you how to do it.”

And he does, but it’s not easy. I try over and over again, and after smacking my face into that boulder about a hundred times, I know: it’s freaking hard.

He keeps saying stuff like “mind over matter” and “you have to believe you can do it.” Every time he goes all Yoda on me, I roll my eyes. But eventually, I get it. It turns out that walking through things is the only power out of the dozen Aaron shows me that I’m able to do on my own. I don’t know if that makes it easy, but I guess it’s easier than the rest.

Aaron’s a patient teacher, despite his lecture on being late and the almost f-bomb he dropped right after he almost kissed me. He’s willing to repeat something over and over until I get it, without getting frustrated. That’s a true gift. My chest swells with pride as he explains the principles of invisibility for the tenth time. I have to repeat it back to him twice before I finally get it. And then Aaron says something about a mirror and I’m completely lost again. I’ve always been a bit hard-headed.

He figures that little tidbit out when we practice speed.

“This can be dangerous, so don’t let go of my hand,” Aaron says, and then he takes off running, dragging me with him.

We pick up speed and follow the gentle curves of the cliff, keeping far from the edge. My feet pound the dirt and my ponytail whips wildly as the surrounding scenery blurs into brown, green, and gray stripes.

A half hour of racing up and down the river passes. It seems pretty easy. Easier than walking through that rock did. All I have to do is run. Really, really fast. I don’t need him to do that.

I drop his hand.

Big mistake.

I swerve and smash into Aaron’s side with so much force he catapults into the air. Dirt and grass kicks up from my feet as I slide to a halt and whip around. He slams to the ground and skids toward the edge of the cliff, feet first, leaving a long drag mark in the dirt. When he finally stops moving, his butt is halfway over the ledge and his legs dangle over the river.

Trembling, Aaron scrambles back from the edge and sits up, breathless.

“Uh, sorry…” I walk up to him slowly. “I thought I could handle it.”

He stares between his knees at the rolling white water below. Pale and breathing fast, he rubs the arm I crashed into absentmindedly until the color returns to his cheeks, and he finally speaks.

“When I tell you not to do something, Libbi,” he says in a low, controlled voice, “for the love of all that is good and holy, don’t do it!” Then he jumps up, dusts the mud and grass off, and we continue training.

The rest of the day goes well, for a stubborn idiot like me. Aaron never mentions my slip up again, thankfully. He doesn’t mention his scars or the almost-kiss, either. But just before he closes my car door behind me in the bike trail parking lot, he reminds me how important it is to be punctual.

Muse blasts from my car stereo and my seat rumbles with the beat. It’s a good song with a killer bass line, but I really shouldn’t be listening to music right now. The someone’s-about-to-die headache hasn’t started yet, but it will soon. And it’s probably a little too tongue-in-cheek for a Grim-Reaper-in-training to arrive at a death scene accompanied by a song with the lyrics “give me your heart and your soul” in it. I twist the volume knob all the way down as I turn onto Jon Hilkrest’s street.

Aaron told me to meet him outside Jon’s apartment at six o’clock. He wants to go over a few things before we go in for Jon’s heart attack. That works for me. The more we go over, the better. Aaron may have worked with me all morning and well into the afternoon, but I still feel like I know nothing.

There is so much to know. Too much.

I pull to the curb in front of the apartment building and check the dashboard clock. 5:55. No lecture from Aaron tonight. I’m five minutes early.

The tugging feeling in my head returns, urging me out of the car and into the apartment building. The headache isn’t as bad as it was that first night with Rosie. It’s more annoying than painful. For now.

I shift into park. Aaron’s face appears in the passenger’s side window and I scream. He smirks as he melts through the car door and settles his long body in the seat next to me.

“Did I scare you?” He grins like an idiot.

“You can be such a jerk sometimes.”

“Sorry,” he says through his prankster smile. “Drive around the block.”

“Why?” I shift back into drive.

“In a small town like Carroll Falls, you don’t want to be seen parked close to every death scene for a week before you disappear yourself. No matter how natural the deaths may be, people will talk.” He points to the street he wants me to turn down. Rumor Avenue. Fitting. “Believe me, you don’t want gossip like that floating around about you when you can’t defend yourself or your family.”

“Speaking of families and rumors…” I bite my lower lip. The steering wheel glides under my palms as it returns to center. “I ran into Mrs. Lutz yesterday. We had ice cream together and talked.” I glance over at him. “About you.”

His lips press together and the muscle in his temple bulges.

“And…?” His lips barely move.

“She says she knows for a fact you didn’t kill your mom and stepdad. Which is sort of funny, since you say you did.”

His fingertips dig into his jeaned thighs as he glowers out the window. “Margie’s always been a sweet person. She doesn’t like to think the worst of people.” He cocks his head to the right. “Park here, in the grocery store parking lot.”

My tires bump over the fluorescent-yellow speed humps. Aaron points to a spot near the back corner of the lot, and I head in that direction.

“Maybe. But she says she was with you all night that night.” I pull my car into the parking space nose-first and cut off the engine. “I don’t think she’s lying. I mean, what would she have to gain from that? But why would you lie and say you did something so awful if you didn’t do it? None of it makes sense.”

“I thought I told you in the library to drop this stuff, Libbi.”

“I thought I told you ‘fat chance,’ Aaron.”

Aaron snorts and shakes his head. “You really are stubborn, aren’t you?”

“The stubborn-est.”

He stares at me and I stare right back. If I look away now, I’ll lose this battle of wills, but if I hold my ground, I might actually get somewhere with him.

“Fine,” he says, after what feels like an eternity of staring into his determined eyes. “It’s really none of your business, but if it will help you focus on what’s important here, I’ll tell you why Margie thinks I’m innocent.”

“Really?” I’m not sure if I heard him correctly.

“Yeah.” He runs a palm over his face. His hand stops on his chin and he tilts his head, studying me through his bangs. “Under one condition.”

“Okay,” I say, before he can change his mind and take it back.

“You have to help me with something tomorrow. No questions asked.”

“Okay.” I suppress the smile that threatens to lift the corners of my mouth. I can’t believe I actually won the staring contest. I never win those things. Max holds the undisputed title in our family. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” He runs his fingers through his hair and stares out the window. I wait for him to start talking, but when a full minute passes and he stays silent, I nudge his elbow.

“Aaron, are you going to tell me why Mrs. Lutz thinks you’re innocent?”

“Yeah.” Aaron massages his temple. “She didn’t see me do it. She thinks someone else did it before we got there that night, but…” He swallows. “She’s wrong.” Aaron sits up straight and turns toward me. His thigh knocks into the gearshift, hard enough to sink into his flesh, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Now, can we drop the subject and concentrate on Jon and the job we have to do? Please?”

“Who does she think killed them?” I ask, and Aaron sighs.

“I only agreed to tell you why she thinks I’m innocent. That’s it.”

“But you didn’t tell me anything,” I say.

“No more. We have a job to do and it’s getting late.” His eyes bore into me and I can almost see the door slam shut behind them. If I couldn’t sense how hard it was for him to say what he already said, I’d feel cheated, because he’s done talking.

“Are you nervous?” he says. It’s an obvious change of subject, but I’ll play along. I’ll let him win the battle, this time.

“A little,” I say with a shrug. What I feel like saying is: Hells-to-the-yes, I’m nervous. Are you freaking kidding? But I don’t want Aaron to lose confidence in me.

“Good. You should be nervous, but not too nervous.” He winks and pats my knee. I must not look as stoic as I think I do because he says, “It’ll be okay, Libbi. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“Yeah, of course I will.” I swallow the bucket of sand in my mouth and give him my bravest smile.

“There are a few things we need to go over before we go in. You know, rules and stuff,” he says. “First, there are a few powers that can’t be used without an actual soul to practice on, so some of this stuff will be brand new to you. And since this is your first time, I’m not going to let you try anything—not even what we practiced today—unless I’m touching you and walking you through it, step by step. Second, when I touch you, Jon will not be able to hear the conversation between the two of us. He will only hear what is said to him directly. That way I can instruct you without him hearing. Just remember, if you have anything to say that you don’t want Jon to hear, you have to touch me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The dull, pulling headache suddenly leaps from annoying to crushing in less than ten seconds, and I squeeze my eyes closed and massage my temples.

“I think we’re running out of time, Aaron,” I say, keeping my eyes shut. “We need to get moving.” I swing my door open, jump out, and look back in the window at Aaron. He hasn’t opened his door yet. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

***

I step on the jack-o’-lantern doormat in front of Jon’s apartment door, and it lets out a howl of terror. A little early for Halloween, isn’t it? Or maybe Mr. Hilkrest is a lot late bringing the mat back in. Who knows?

“Jon isn’t ready to go, like Rosie was,” Aaron whispers. “So I don’t think it would comfort him to see us, no matter who we look like.”

“How do you know he isn’t ready to go? I thought you said we can’t read minds?”

“We can’t, technically. But for about an hour before they die, we get a sense of their emotional state, if we don’t let our own emotions get in the way. It gives us a better idea of what we’re walking into. Oh, and if they think something directly at us, we can hear it as if they’re talking out loud.”

“Oh,” I say. That explains why I heard Rosie’s voice in my head that first night. “Are you going to teach me how to do that? How to sense emotions?”

“Yeah, of course. But one thing at a time.” He grabs my hand and holds it in both of his. “First, we need to become invisible to Jon. If he sees us now, he’ll panic. We don’t want him to panic.”

Aaron reviews how to become invisible to the almost-dead, and with him holding my hand, I’m able to do it. It’s a lot easier for me than it was this morning, and so is walking through the door. I don’t even hesitate when we step through the closed apartment door together. And I meet no resistance, like walking through a cool curtain of smoke.

The reek of spilled beer and stale cigarettes smacks me on the other side. Aaron leads me down a narrow hall and we pass a tiny kitchenette with dirty dishes stacked on every inch of counter space. One look around the cluttered living room—piles and piles of dirty laundry, old newspapers, all manner of holiday decorations, and empty boxes of take-out—and I can guess Jon wasn’t trying to get a head-start on Halloween this year with his doormat. That rug has probably been there for years.