To Catch Her Death (The Grim Reality Series Book 1) (14 page)

“I know.” She lifted her bottle and drank. Lowering it, she said, “You are too, despite this whole Angel of Death thing.”

“Thanks—I think.” Though the shower eased some of my aches, my body still throbbed. I sat forward and rolled my shoulders. “I’m not twenty anymore.” I sighed. “What if I can’t do this reaper job?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I could be killed or maimed.” I hesitated. “Or humiliated.” I rubbed my hands over my face. “God knows I’ve already done that enough.”

“Listen.” Vella tapped her bright pink nail on the table. “This might not be the best situation or your dream job, but it’s going to put food on the table. Hell, I’d let you come work for me but business has been slow.”

Though Vella was my best friend, the thought of working at her hair salon, listening to Jonathan gossip all day made the hair on my neck prickle. At times I wasn’t sure how Vella and I became such good friends. I didn’t care about celebrity gossip, make up, or name brands. Because of her husband’s high position at the oil company she was involved in a lot of charities and social events. Whereas I attended hockey games and constructed paper-mache turkey heads for school plays. We were the epitome of opposites attracting. I think that’s why we worked.

“Thanks.” I propped my elbows on the table, not wanting to put pressure on my back. “You’re right. At this point I need to tough it out.” I attempted a cheery smile. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be the best reaper this side of the Arctic…once I stop hurting.”

“Have another beer. It will help cure what ails you.”

“I doubt it. Besides, I need a good night sleep tonight.” My cheery smile tightened into a humorless grin. “God only knows what’s in store for me tomorrow.”

“Did Nate give you any clue?”

“Only that we
hit the seventh
. I hope that’s not some metaphorical term for one of the circles of Hell.”

“Well if it is, give my Uncle Donny Jo a message from me. Tell him I did not end up pregnant by Al Ambler. Nor did I have to resort to mud wrestling or lap dances to get through college.” She took a swig of beer and then set it on the table with more force than necessary. “Oh!” She jabbed a finger at me. “And tell him Aunt Edith knew all along he was cheating on her with Alvaretta Hunt—though that’s not what we called the woman.”

“Yeah, I got it.” A shiver skidded up my spine. “Listen, hopefully I won’t meet Uncle Donny Jo or any other of your relatives tomorrow. Or ever.”

“Well, if you do, don’t turn your back on them.” She pinned me with a gaze and nodded her head. “I’m just sayin’.”

Hell just got a whole lot scarier.

CHAPTER TWELVE

At exactly ten
the next morning I pushed through the front door of GRS. Nate leaned next to the elevator, thumbing through the Anchorage Newspaper. I straightened, trying to hide any indication that yesterday’s training torture left me nearly incapacitated.

“What are you doing down here?” I stopped at the elevator and punched the button. “Afraid I wouldn’t show up this morning?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.” He smiled and folded the newspaper, tossing it in the trash. “But—” He patted me on the back. Pain shot from my shoulder and down my back, nearly forcing a groan from me. I ground my teeth together to prevent a whimper from escaping. “I knew you were made of stronger stuff.”

“Yep.” I stepped away from him. “That’s me. Tough as nails.”

The elevator doors slid open. “After you—partner.”

Was that sarcasm? It was difficult to tell with him sometimes, so I just assumed it was. “What fun things do we have planned for today?” I leaned against the back wall of the elevator. “Torture with hot pokers. Shoving toothpicks under my fingers. Five hours of being licked by cats while strapped in a chair?”

“What’s the matter?” He slid his key card along the slot and pressed the number seven button. “Yesterday too much for you?”

“No.” Pasting on a sweet smile, I crossed my arms, ignoring that ache that emitted around the area of my bra flab. Until last night I hadn’t realized I had muscles there. “But since I passed and I’m here today, I thought you might have some new challenges for me.”

The doors squeezed shut. Nate turned to face me. “Tests are over. Today you see Command Central and meet some of the higher ranking members of GRS.”

“Sounds fun.” At least the idea of a tour did. I wasn’t sure what I would have done if he told me I had to lift or climb something. My stomach did a little flip when the elevator began to climb. “By higher ranking, do you mean reapers?”

“Reapers, command personnel—and others.”

And others
sounded ominous but I didn’t question him further. Once we reached the seventh floor I’d find out what
others
were. No sense in stirring up my suspicious nature more than it already was. “Cool.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence. I tried to appear unfazed by what waited for me on the seventh floor and Nate seemed determined to break my calm façade by burning a hole in the side of my head with his stare. I ignored him. After another few seconds the elevator lurched and the doors opened.

It took all my will not to gawk at the sight. One large room spread out in front of me. Smoky colored floor-to-ceiling windows soared up the front wall, letting in the bright October sun. Raised voices, printers churning out copies, and frantic tapping of keyboards whizzed around us.

“Ladies first.” Nate held out his arm, indicating I should lead.

I stepped onto the blue carpet but didn’t advance. The room reminded me of the bridge on a space ship. Computers lined one of the walls and in the center of the room was a circular elevated platform. What looked like radars pinged, registering tiny green blips on the screens. But it was the man standing in the center who drew my attention.

Yowza! I didn’t think men like him existed in real life. The dark gray t-shirt he wore stretched across his broad back and his biceps rolled from under the tight arm holes. The fabric clung to his body and dipped into a pair of gray camouflage pants that hugged a rear end that made my fingers itch to touch it. I blew out a long, silent breath but didn’t fan myself. I did have some control.

“This is Command Central. It’s the heart of GRS,” Nate said.

Not pulling my gaze from the mouth-watering Adonis, I pointed. “Who’s that?” Nate snorted and with great difficulty, I looked at him. “What?”

“That’s Constantine.” A smirk turned up the corner of his lip. “He always gets that reaction.”

“What reaction.” I tried to play innocent but knew I was busted.

“The slack jaw, hypnotic gaze, and the fact that even though you’re standing in the command center of GRS all you can focus on is him.”

“I am not…slack jawed.” The rest of it? Guilty. “But seriously, you should have his picture on the recruiting pamphlet. I wouldn’t have hesitated signing up.”

At that moment Constantine turned. “Nate.” He hopped off the platform. “And Lisa Carron, our newest recruit.” He held out his hand. “I’m sorry for the circumstances of you being here, but I’m glad to have you.”

“And I’m glad to be had—here, I mean.” Forget his silver gray eyes that seemed to glow, his silky voice, or the thick black hair that begged my fingers to run through it, my knees nearly buckled when I grasped his hand. A jolt of electricity shot through my body, warming me from toes to the tips of my ears. Maybe it was a reaper thing. A way to acknowledge each other without acknowledging each other. Whatever it was, I’d be shaking his hand whenever possible.

He released me and hooked his thumbs on his front pockets. “Nate said you breezed through the obstacle course yesterday.”

I highly doubted those were the words Nate used. “Breezed, stumbled, the main thing is I made it.”

“Exactly. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Oh happy day. Constantine walked to the center of the room, giving me another glimpse of his rear end. I followed in his wake. Damn he smelled good. If Heaven had a scent it would smell like this guy. My heart skipped a beat and I silently sighed. It was one of those
he’s so dreamy
sighs usually saved for teen heartthrobs.

“This is our tracking station.” He pointed to the blipping radars. “It’s where we monitor impending deaths.”

Several green dots blinked on the screen, drawing my attention away from my incredibly hot superior. Some of the blips were bigger than the others. My stomach clenched at the idea those were people, going about their daily lives, unaware their time on Earth was counting down.

“Tempting, isn’t it?” Constantine asked.

I glanced up at him. “What is?”

“Wanting to rush out and warn them.” His gaze held mine. The man must have read minds.

“Yeah, it is.” No point in lying. “Does anybody ever do that?”

“It’s happened, but it doesn’t help.”

The need to know battled with my knowledge that ignorance was bliss, and won. “Why not?”

“Only guardian angels can interfere. If a reaper tries to prevent the death it will still happen. Maybe not in the way planned, but it will still happen.”

“That’s depressing.” I admit I had toyed with the idea of preventing some of the deaths I would encounter. But what was the point if the person ended dying anyway—maybe horrifically.

“Depends on how you look at death, I guess.” Constantine stepped around me. “No doubt your opinion of it will change in time.”

My eyes cut to Nate. “Did your opinion change?”

He nodded. “Oh yeah.”

Before I had time to ask him how, Constantine pointed to a large, digital board hanging on the wall. Names were lit in green, and a series of yellow boxes glowed behind the name. “These are the reapers stationed here in Alaska.”

I noticed my name at the bottom of the list. Only one box was lit. “There’s a lot more than I thought.” Nate was in the number one spot with a string of yellow lights behind his name. “What do those mean?”

“Each light represents a reaped soul. Everybody has a quota for the year.”

“Why do I have a box?” I hadn’t reaped yet and figured it was some kind of confidence building tactic.”

“Roy Badder,” Nate said behind me.

“I didn’t reap him.” Sure, I’d touched him, but Nate did all the heavy lifting. Plus it was an accident. So I didn’t feel I deserved the credit. “I just held onto him.”

“Same thing,” Constantine said, echoing what Nate had said in the Holiday bathroom.

“So, it’s like a scoreboard?”

“Exactly. Soon you’ll be up there with Nate.”

My gaze skated up the list of reapers. God, I hoped not. Trying to infuse my voice with awe, I widened my eyes. “Impressive.”

Nate harrumphed. “Right.”

Okay, so maybe sincerity wasn’t my best attribute when it came to him.

“Anyway,” Constantine continued, “see the blinking square at the end of Edgar Cramdon’s quota?” I nodded. “That means his client is dead but hasn’t been reaped yet.”

I shifted my weight to my other foot and crossed my arms over my chest. “Dead? For how long?”

“Not sure.” Constantine took out his phone and scrolled through several screens. “Eighteen hours.”

“Aren’t we supposed to reap right away?” I couldn’t imagine some poor soul being stuck while their body assumed room temperature. “I mean—it seems the considerate thing to do.”

“Normally, yes.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “But it was a suicide.”

“What difference does that make?”

“It’s not policy, so don’t quote me on it, but we let suicides cool their heels before letting them cross over. Then maybe they’ll think twice about taking their life the next time around.”

There was a whole lot of information coming at me. Not
here’s the break room and the pudding in the fridge belongs to Lois
information. This was secret of the universe stuff. “What do you mean—next time?

“Reincarnation,” Constantine said as if he’d just said something as generic as muffin or socks.

“So…we come back?” Duh, he’d just said that, but it was the most intelligent thing I could manage while my brain drank the information. “By choice?”

“Of course. How else would you learn lessons?” He smirked, revealing a dimple I hadn’t noticed. “Walk in another man’s shoes, so to speak.”

“So I’ve reincarnated before?” Of course my imagination instantly shot to a princess or Gandhi.

“Absolutely.” He walked to the closest computer terminal and typed in some information. “Let’s see when and who you were.”

“Get out of here.” All of my inhibitions evaporated. I joined him, leaning close to see the monitor. “Are you googling this?”

“More like ethereal Googling. This computer connects directly to the Akashic Records.”

“I’ve heard of those. They contain everything that’s happened in history, right?”

He turned his head and smiled at me. “Very good.”

I smiled back, which was a better option than acting on my impulse to run my tongue along his lips.

“In a nutshell, the Akashic Records chronicle every second of every hour in history since time began.”

“Every second?”

His eyebrows lifted and he nodded.

“So that drunk dialing my college ex incident?”

“Recorded. Sorry.”

“Crap.” I turned my attention to the computer monitor. “So who was I?”

“Let’s see, a Mesopotamian priestess.”

“Really? I hadn’t expected something so glamorous.”

He grimaced. “But you were sacrificed on the altar.”

“I wasn’t a virgin, was I?”

“Yeah.” His gaze cut to me again. “Sorry.”

“Figures. What else.” Surely not all my lives had ended so…unsatisfactorily.

“A Hebrew slave in Egypt. You were crushed by one of the pyramid blocks. A goat herder in Persia. Starvation.”

“Starvation?” I wasn’t sure how the whole reincarnation thing worked but I couldn’t imagine not having had the same driving need to eat as I did today. “Why didn’t I just eat my goats?”

Constantine gave a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t know. Details are sketchy.” He refocused on my life data. “You were also a Civil War soldier, a rice farmer in Asia, milk maiden in eighteenth century Europe, and…oh.” He pointed to the screen. “A prince to England’s monarchy.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about. Which prince was I?”

“Uh.” His brow furrowed. “Henry the Eighth’s son.”

My excitement plummeted. “Wait, he didn’t have any sons that lived, right?”

“Yeah, you died at birth.”

“Figures.” I straightened. “Okay, as fascinating at this is, perhaps too much information isn’t a good thing.” I’m sure there were deep spiritual reasons why most of my past lives ended tragically or seemed completely mundane. Maybe that was the equivalent of building character. “Now I understand why we don’t remember our past lives. Actually I’m grateful. So depressing.”

“Not everybody can be Cleopatra,” Nate said. “The world needs goat herders too.”

“Comforting.” Anxious to move on, I clapped my hands together and rubbed. “What’s next?”

“The rules.” Nate picked up a thick book off the counter. At first I thought it was a phonebook. He shoved it at me. “Read it. Learn them.”

“All of it?” I took the regulations from him. “Will there be a test?”

“Yeah, every time you reap a soul. That’s your test,” Nate said.

“I can’t take this home. Somebody might see it.” I looked at Constantine. “Aren’t I supposed to keep my reaperhood a secret?”

“Yes.” Constantine took the book and handed me a phone. “That’s why we use this instead.” A short huff of laughter escaped him and he shook his head. “Nate prefers an old school approach when it comes to training.”

“Is this mine?” I took the phone. A shot of excitement raced through me. The phone I held was several versions newer than the dinosaur I’d been using the last four years.

“All yours,” Constantine said. “It’s important we’re able to reach you when needed.” He stood behind me and reached around my arm. His biceps rubbed against my upper arm. “This is the GRS app.” He tapped on the tiny skull icon. “All the information you need is in here.”