Chapter Two – Millie
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.