Becoming Death (24 page)

With my appending doom on my mind, I found myself taking a detour from my mother’s brunch. I passed my high school, Aaron’s favorite restaurant and Happy Mourners. It wasn’t until I arrived at the Burger Hut that I parked my car. This was where it all started. I was walking to the entrance, willing myself to go inside, when I was stopped in my tracks. A sign hung on the door announcing Linda’s death and advertising for a new manager. Why had she lied, staging fake mourners at her funeral when she had plenty of real friends?

The door opened revealing Tiara sucking on the straw of a milkshake. “Madison!” she shouted, clutching her chest. “You scared me half to death. I could recommend someone to deal with those eyebrows before you frighten some children.

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood and in the mood for a milkshake,” she said, shaking the cup at me. “I know it will go straight to my hips but is that such a crime? Girl’s got to have some curves, you know.”

“Whatever.” I pushed past her.

“Oh, Madison, by the way, I heard you failed to collect your latest victim,” Tiara said.

I turned around. “How do you know about that?”

“I know the reassignment is in the works, but who knows when it will take effect. I just hope for his sake his new reaper has the same affinity for him that you did.”

“There is no need for a reassignment; Death will get me instead. I’m sure that will fill his quota,” I snapped at her, ignoring the Burger Hut and going back to my car.

My detour had caused me to arrive at my mother’s house twenty minutes late. I knew my mother world be annoyed by my tardiness, but even she wouldn’t risk turning our last conversation into a petty argument.

My mother embraced me when the door opened. She touched my cheek. “Are you alright? When you were late I assumed the worst.”

“I’m fine. I just needed some time to think some things through.”

“Have you changed your mind?” she asked.

“No, just wanted to say some goodbyes,” I said, squeezing out of her grip.

“Well, it’s fine that you’re late. I’m pleased to see you’re still walking, talking and breathing…”

“Ann Marie, don’t be so morbid,” my grandmother called from the other room.

I followed my mother into the house and was surprised to find my grandmother sitting in the living room dressed in her finest stereotypical grim reaper attire.

She took my hand, patting it. “You holding up okay, kiddo?”

“As much as a walking corpse can,” I joked.

My mother fingered her collar before walking away towards the dining room.

“Did I miss an invitation to a costume party?” I asked, pinching my grandmother’s sleeve.

“Oh, this relic? It’s for your ceremony.”

Memories of fire and smoke filled my mind. “Ceremony? I though we were just having brunch, like every Sunday?”

She pinched my cheek. “Well, we couldn’t very well tell you—it’s meant to be a surprise after all.”

“Seriously, is there really much point? Can’t we just eat? I don’t think I’m up for anymore ceremonies,” I said, rubbing my forehead.

“Nonsense, today is your official induction into the service of grim-reaperhood,” she explained.

“Didn’t we do that already, when Mom gave me my pearls?”

“No, kiddo, this ceremony is normally saved until you’ve collected your first ten clients. That way you have some time to get used to your duties, settle in, find your way—but because of your little predicament, we’ve moved things up a bit,” she said, playing with her earring.

“Fine, we’ll do it.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What does this ceremony entail anyway?”

“We sacrifice a goat!”

“What?” I stuttered, cringing.

My grandmother burst out laughing, slapping her thigh. “Gets ’em every time.”

“Ha, ha.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “What’s it really about?”

“We dress you in your official robes, give you your scythe and feast in your honor.”

“Can’t we just skip to the food part? I didn’t have breakfast,” I asked, tapping my stomach.

“Don’t you worry, it won’t take long. Your mother is preparing everything now. She won’t let anything go even a second over schedule,” my grandmother assured me.

“Am I really getting a scythe? I thought that kind of grim reaper image was outdated.”

My grandmother lifted a shoulder. “We only use them in the ceremony as it’s traditional and a bit of fun. No one is going to make you walk down the street dressed in the formal reaper uniform unless you want to. But believe me, you don’t want to—it always draws in the crazies.” She twirled a finger next to her head.

My mother stuck her head around the corner of the doorway. “Everything is ready, come in.”

I helped my grandmother to her feet and we entered the dining room. The curtains were shut and the room was lit only by unfamiliar black and red candles that dotted the table, their flames glowing an eerie green. My aunt and sister were already sat at the table, dressed in their own black and gray robes.

“Close the doors behind you,” my mother said. “We need darkness.”

“Go on.” My grandmother shooed me ahead while shutting the doors.

I approached my own chair before noticing a matching robe for me draped across it. I paused as the room’s natural sunlight disappeared.

Clarissa stood, gathered my robe and held it out to me. “Put this on.”

My aunt lifted her glass of wine and took a long swig before immediately refilling her glass. “It’s so lovely to have the whole family together one last time for such an important event.”

My mother inched the rest of the bottle away from her before motioning to me. “Go on then.”

I reluctantly took the garment from my sister. My fingers ran along the stitching of the gray pattern that danced across the cloth.

“Every grim reaper family has their own distinct pattern, like a family crest. Ours was decided hundred of years ago,” my mother said.

After a moment’s consideration, I lifted the robe over my head and let it engulf me. A cold shudder ran down my spine as the fabric slumped over my shoulders and settled against my back.

I was finally ready to embrace Death. I would be a grim reaper now, until the moment I died. Strangely, now it all made sense. My fate had always been decided. Pain, loss and mourning was what my life had been designed for. There would be no growing old, no careers, no children and no love for me. My former life disappeared when I’d opened that trunk. It was time to stop pretending I was normal.

The rest of the family picked up the candles and gathered around me while my mother carefully unwrapped a bladed tool from a blanket that resembled our robes. Holding the scythe in her hand, she approached me. My mother glanced at the others and they formed a circle around me.

“Remain still,” she warned before slicing through the air either side of me. “Madison Clark, I now present you with the scythe of acceptance as a reward for collecting your tenth victim. May the great and powerful Death guide you along your path and grant you immortality along your journey.”

She passed me the scythe and I examined it, taking in the dark metal blade decorated with odd shapes and the wooden handle carved with the names of generations of our reapers.

My family surrounded me and joined hands as they began to chant, “Death, prepare this girl for her journey.” Their words got louder and louder with every verse until words became only shouts.

I blushed, running my fingers over the names on my scythe. Clarissa had been right—there was someone in our family named Morticia.

They all reached for and touched the handle of the scythe, repeating the phrase, “I grant you the gift of Death.” A chill ran down my spine and I wanted to run away. When they reached the tenth time, the room went silent and the lights flickered back on.

“It is done,” my grandmother announced.

My mother led the way back to the table. “Congratulations, Madison, you have finally mastered your powers. I wish you’d get a chance to use them again, but let’s not dwell on that. I have prepared a feast in honor of your victims. Let them rest in peace.”

I was led to the head of the table by my grandmother. “It’s your day, honey, sit down.”

No one removed their robes as we sat down, so I went with the flow hoping I wouldn’t stain it. I flexed my shoulders, getting used to the weight of it. It was oddly comfortable, like a giant sweatshirt.

My mother tied her yellow daisy-covered apron over her ceremonial robe and rushed into the kitchen. I was pretty sure that was a Stepford wife no-no. She wheeled the food in on her battered serving trolley, which had been presented to her by my father one Christmas. The trolley with its dented bronze and chipped paint was at war with most of my mother’s tasteful décor, but I knew she could never bear to part with it. Her fingers held the metal handle almost intimately, her eyes lowered to the floor. After a moment’s pause, she removed the dishes and placed them on the table.

“I’ve made a special dish for each of your marked victims.” After slipping on some oven mitts, she unloaded the pans: onion tartlets, deviled eggs, roast potatoes, a green bean casserole, roast pork with apples, potato salad, pigs in blankets, handmade rolls, a salad and a cherry pie. We inched our plates over the edge of the table to allow her to squeeze the last item in. She wiped her brow. “I was up early this morning preparing this. If this is your last meal, I wanted it to be special.”

I dug in immediately, spooning helpings onto my plate until I realized there were ten dishes. “What’s the pie for?”

“Dessert,” my aunt said, taking the pan from me.

“No, I mean, why are there ten dishes? I only marked nine people.”

“As I said, Madison, each dish represents one of your victims. Ten clients, ten dishes,” she repeated.

“I never touched Aaron, you know that—”

“Well that is very strange because as head of the family I had confirmation earlier today that ten of your victims had been marked for Death,” she explained.

“Are you trying to tell me someone else has marked Aaron? Is he in danger?” I asked, standing up from my seat.

She pulled out a printed form from her apron and frowned at it. “Paper work doesn’t lie. You’ve had ten victims confirmed for Death.” She passed me the piece of paper with a number ten next to my name.

“It’s impossible, I didn’t, I was so careful. I thought only I could take his soul?”

“It didn’t have to be you. Any more powerful reaper can be reassigned to finish the job if it seems like you’re unwilling to,” Clarissa said, rubbing her neck.

My eyes scanned over my family. “Did one of you?”

My mother shook her head. “No, honey, as hard as it would be to lose you, we wouldn’t.”

My eyes widened. “I need to go.” I pulled out my phone to find his location.

My mother grabbed my arm. “Madison, listen to me. Are you sure you want to do this? Someone has marked him, so that means the wheels of Death are already in motion. Even if you get to him, you won’t be able to stop it. You’ll see it happen.”

I pulled away. “I told myself I wouldn’t give up. You couldn’t save Dad, but I still have a chance.”

My phone was glued to my ear as I headed out the door without a plan or any means of stopping Aaron’s inevitable death. I dialed his phone and with each ring I became more nervous.

Finally the line connected. “Where are you?”

“Hey, Mads, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to see you. I think we need to talk.”

“Well, I’m on my way home now, should be there in twenty. You’ll never guess who I ran into this morning at the comic book store?”

“Who?”

“Tiara Simmons. Who knew popular girls liked to read superhero comics too? I hope you don't mind, we went out for coffee to catch up. I know you two never got along in high school but she really does sound like she wants to make amends.”

“Sure does.” I narrowed my eyes. “It's fine, just go straight home. I’ll be there soon.” I hung up, pulling up the Dead Head app to track his location. I jumped into my car and jammed the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered.

“Seriously, not now!” I yelled at the car and collapsed against the steering wheel. This wasn’t happening.

My phone beeped to confirm it had found Aaron. He was only five minutes away. I threw open the car door and took off running. My robe flapped in the wind behind me and my shoes slapped against the sidewalk as my arms propelled me forwards with each stride. My chest ached and my eyes watered, tears sticking to my face. I paused to catch my breath, doubling over in pain. A sharp stabbing pain took over my chest and my left arm began to tingle.

“No,” I moaned, limping forwards and gripping my chest. I stumbled over a gap in the sidewalk and fell to the ground. My breath came out labored but I climbed to my feet again, wheezing and feeling light-headed as I continued forwards one step at a time. I had to get there. I didn’t know how, but deep inside of me I knew I could stop Death. Something had shifted. He was afraid, desperate to stop me.

“You’re going to lose,” I whispered, knowing he was watching somehow. If he thought it was all over, he’d soon find out I was a force to be reckoned with.