Becoming Death (5 page)

My eyes darted between the door and trunk. Ignoring my last second reservations, I threw open the lid.

The heat of the blast was almost unbearable.

I was thrown backwards onto the floor; my skin scorched pink and blistered. Flames and smoke surrounded me. I could hear my family’s muffled cries. I wheezed, trying to keep my head below the smoke that was blinding me to anything outside the fiery spectacle. I knew I could hear my family’s voices, but I couldn’t see them. Wheezing, I tried to keep my head below the smoke and, clutching my throat, I tried to call for help, but no sound came out.

What had I done?

My body shook as I attempted to move towards my family’s stifled sounds. I squinted through the fog to try to find them, but my eyes locked on to two tiny red flames hovering above the trunk. I fanned the smoke away from my face and saw a dark robe floating through the flames, billowing like a sail in the wind. I crawled backwards, stupidly tripping over my own feet.

What
was
that?

“Stay back! Don’t look at it!” a familiar voice called out, but I didn’t bother to try to put together who was shouting the commands at me; I couldn’t take my eyes off this… monster.

The creature bowed towards me and I felt myself sliding forwards along the floor. I dug my nails into the wood, creating tiny splinters, as the gap between us closed. I felt like I was being hunted. The creature's fire eyes locked on me and my arms fell useless at my sides as paralysis took over. I tried to clamber up off the floor to run, but my feet felt weighted down—I could barely sit, let alone stand.

The cloak circled me as though I were prey. As it flew around me, its weightless body somehow gained bulk. It knocked me onto my side. At its touch, my flesh sizzled, causing tears to run down my cheeks and my breathing to become ragged. It was playing with me. It wanted something, I could tell that much by the flicker of its eyes and the hint of a sinister grin in the folds of the robe.

What could it want?

“Madison, please close your eyes,” a voice whimpered from behind me, but I could already feel it was too late.

The decision had been made.

The robe stopped inches from my face. The creature’s eyes seemed to burn within my own. I was on fire, burning from the inside, the pain building within my body. I convulsed, bile rising in my throat and leaking from my lips. I was dying, and the last thing I did was reach for my family, silently begging them to save me. I close my eyes. It was over.

“Madison Clark, you have been chosen!” The creature’s growl shook the room as it lunged at me.

My lifeless body was lifted above the smoke. I tried to open my eyes to see what was happening, but I was blinded by the robe wrapping around me. The soft fabric burned my flesh, but I was too weak to scream. My arms rose only to be enveloped by the sleeves of the robe before falling back to my sides with military precision. The hood was so tight it suffocated me, and the weight of the garment on my shoulders overpowered me—crushing me.

Hands first, I fell to the floor, accepting my fate.

A hand stroked my hair; I eased my eyes open. My vision was cloudy and my head ached, but I could make out my mother whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again. She was knelt on the floor, cradling my head in her lap. I felt tiny and weak, but still protected with her holding me.

My body ached like I had finished a marathon. My neck agreed with the sentiment by cracking in successive pops as I lifted my head. My eyes fluttered open again, taking in my surroundings. The fire was gone and the room had returned to the familiar smell of aftershave. I couldn’t help but wonder, hope, that maybe I had just hit my head. That I had imagined the fire and the creature. That the unsettling darkness in my chest was a figment of my imagination—a very overactive one, at that. But then I trailed my gaze down to my torso, my vision coming back in focus.

I was still wearing the black robe.

My eyes darted between my mother and sister. I choked out a pitiful, “What happened?”

Clarissa turned away and rubbed her palm against her forehead. “You’re too young… It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

“What happened?” I hear a rather shaky version of my voice ask again. I tried to rise, but my mother held pretty hard onto my shoulders.

“It’s better if you try to relax,” my mother said. “You’re going to need some time to understand and digest what has happened. I’m sorry we couldn’t warn you.”

My mother’s face was tear-stained, and I knew part of me should want to make her feel better. To assure her that I was fine. That it would be okay.

But I didn’t know that, and all I wanted to do was ask her a million questions. What was that thing? Why was it inside a trunk with my name on it? What did it do to me?

My throat ached from even thinking about talking, and I could tell by the concern on my mother and sister’s faces that they might not have all the answers I was desperate for. So, I settled for just one.

“What happened to me?”

My mother closed her eyes and shook her head. “Madison, you died.”

“What?” I fumbled my way to my feet and pushed two fingers against the underside of my wrist—nothing. “No!” I pressed my fingers to the side of my neck, but there was still nothing. No pulse. “No, I didn’t! I couldn’t!”

I slapped away my mother’s hand when she reached for me and backed into the corner of the room, holding my uneasy stomach.

“Why would you say that? I’m walking around. I’m talking to you. Both seem like really good indicators that I’m still alive.”

“You were dead, but you reawakened. It happens to all of us,” my mother said.

“You’re kind of a zombie,” Clarissa offered, as if that was some sane and logical sort of explanation for whatever this was.

My eyes widened. “Neither of you are making any sense.”

“Quiet, you’re not helping, Clarissa,” my mother hissed, glaring at my sister. “Dear,” she continued, returning her stern gaze back to me, “it honestly wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You had years before you were meant to be called. Somehow, you broke the rules and He decided you were ready earlier than planned.”

“Stay back,” I whimpered. “What did you even do to me? Drug me?”

“I would never!” my mother snapped, recoiling from my accusations. “That thing you saw was real.”

“Liar!” I shouted back.

“Why would we lie?” my mother asked.

I slumped forwards, giving in to my fatigue and letting myself collapse onto the carpet. “Why would you let that thing hurt me? I know you’ve always loved Clarissa more but…” I was too tired and confused to continue.

I didn’t have to look up into my mother’s blue eyes to know that she was looking at me in her I-am-passing-judgment-on-you way. “I don’t get a choice over who it chooses. I thought you would be safe while you were still so young. I tried to throw you off the trail… to protect you… but you ignored my warnings.”

I glanced at the trunk that was responsible for starting this whole mess. “What was that thing and why did it choose me?”

Nodding at my mother, Clarissa rubbed her shoulder with a compassion I couldn’t even fathom in that moment. She was calm—that shouldn’t have been possible. What was worse, was my mother. She was there—right in front of me—standing up perfectly straight, her arms stiff at her sides. “The creature you saw was Death taking physical form. He killed you so you could reawaken as a grim reaper.”

I waved her explanation away. It was crazy talk. “Grim reapers don’t exist. They’re as fake as the tooth fairy and unicorns.”

“You’re wrong. We’re all grim reapers,” my mother explained.

I stood up and walked around the room, twisting my hand in my hair. “Do you know how insane you sound? Mom, you’re an accountant, not some fairy tale character that goes around stealing souls.”

“Being a grim reaper is your destiny. You’re part of a legacy that has been in place for thousands of years. The powers have been passed down for generations within our family. I’m one and Clarissa is one, just as your grandmother and your aunt are too. We all have been called to do this work, and it’s important that you accept it,” my mother said, her chin raised.

“Well, I don’t accept it! Who did we piss off to get cursed with this so-called destiny anyway?” I asked as I ripped off the stupid robe and tossed it onto the ground.

“We’re the bridge between the living and the dead. It’s an honor, not a curse,” my mother said. “The job has rewards. For every person we help guide into the afterlife, we earn another year of existence. You can be immortal, if you want to be.”

My eyes began to burn after staring at her wide-eyed so long. I could feel my chin dipping into my chest. “If I’m a reaper, does that mean I killed my boss?”

“No, you didn’t have your powers yet. It must have been some other reaper,” my mother said casually, casting a quick glance at my sister. I watched her closely, waiting for something that would help me tell if she was lying. When the listening to non-existent answers became too toxic, I held my stomach and turned away. It was too much.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught my mother walking over to the trunk and reaching inside. She pulled out a book and wiped dust from its cover. “You’ll need this. It will help answer some of the questions you’ll have and give you some guidance on how to get started.” She held the book out to me.

I stared at her, cautiously, and I couldn’t help but laugh when I looked down at the title. It was called
Becoming a Grim Reaper
.

When I didn’t move to take it from her, my mother placed it at my feet. “When you’re ready,” she said.

I kicked the black robe over it. “But why us?”

“Just fate, I believe.”

“Don’t I get a choice? Maybe there’s a loophole where I can just go back to being me again? I don’t want to be some serial-killing ghoul’s minion.” I knew my voice was rising, but I couldn’t help it. This wasn’t fair. Not even close. “It’s wrong. We shouldn’t be asked to do it!”

My mother picked up the robe, folded the dark, creepy fabric together and held it to her chest. “You can’t ignore it,” she began softly. “There are measures in place. Your uncle tried to ignore his call and Death punished him with unbelievable pain until he died—permanently. You have to fulfill Death’s wishes or he’ll take you instead. There’s no loophole. It’s your life now,’ my mother said, patting the folded bundle for added emphasis.

My eyes lowered to the floor. “So, we’re his slaves.”

Before I could look up, my mother pulled me to her chest and ran her fingers through my hair, just as she had comforted me a million times before when I younger. Except, this wasn’t a scraped knee or the school bully pulling my hair. The gesture didn’t work like it should—not really. “It’s not that bad, dear,” she cooed into my ear.

We both knew it was a lie.

I broke free, yanking at the oversized robe and scrunching it into as horrible of a wad as I possibly could. “Please tell me I’m not going to have to wear this everyday.”

My mother’s chuckling soothed my ragged nerves. “Have you ever seen me in mine? Don’t worry. The robes are only for private ceremonies.”

“Welcome to the family business, Madison,” my mother said, raising her wine glass.

“Congratulations, honey,” Aunt Jessica said, clinking our glasses together. “It’s so wonderful to have some young blood taking up the family business. It wasn’t fair to leave it all up to your sister to bring us into the next century.”

“It’s always changing, this business,” my grandmother said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Thanks everyone. I’ll try my best,” I said. I adjusted the sleeves of the pink cardigan my mother had insisted I changed into.

My grandmother patted my shoulder. “You’ll do us proud. It’s all so exciting and nerve-racking when you start out. I can remember my first victim—he had been my grade school gym teacher. That jerk used to exhaust us then to threaten to fail us if we couldn’t run a mile in the last ten minutes of class. It felt great to get a little revenge.”

My mouth hung open. My sweet grandmother plotting revenge seemed so alien.

“How did he die?” Aunt Jessica asked.