Chapter Seventeen
Jackson
I chuckle, shaking my head before typing my response. Millie had sent me another so-called cute dog meme. After I'd mentioned my hatred for dogs, she was on a mission to convert me into a canine lover. I didn't know there were so many adorable puppy photos all over the world. Millie apparently did and was taking great joy in sending me every single one. Naturally, I'd never told Millie the real reason I hated dogs, that my days as a trainee at Scythe had eradicated any appreciation I could have for man's best friend. Spend two years in the hellhound pit and see if you can still find a dog 'cute'.
I type my message, still grinning.
Look at the bloodlust in Fluffy's eyes. That dog's a total killer.
After hitting send, I put my phone back in my pocket, focusing on the empty stage ahead. HQ's rarely used amphitheatre is now slowly filling up as reapers, secretaries, security guards, and any other number of roles that keep the offices functioning are all taking their seats and looking anxiously ahead. The amphitheatre is technically inside Scythe, but Death had transformed the space a millennium ago to convert randomly into outside theatres from around the world. Today, we're sitting in a replica of the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles, the Hollywood sign gleaming in the distance, a white dash amongst the sandy-shaded and green hills. As a result, balmy California air fills my lungs, and a starry night sky beckons from above That doesn't mean the tension is any less palatable, that the subtle vibration of fear and confusion in the air is any less distinguished.
We've never had an emergency meeting before.
Thomas slips into the seat next to me, grinning warmly but with eyes betraying his anxiety. Next to him sits Lucius, who's staring downwards, his eyes lingering on the back of Ginny's head. She's a dozen rows down from us, talking animatedly to another barista sitting beside her.
“Well, that's obviously from a girl,” Thomas says playfully, his fingers combing through the reddish-blonde waves that girls seem to love so much. He nods down to where I've just slipped my phone into my pocket.
I chuckle and shake my head. “I don't know what you're talking about.” I look ahead and try to avoid his gaze.
“Please tell me it's not from Millie. Please tell me you're not being so infeasibly selfish and na?ve that at the worst moment in Scythe history, you've continued to break one of our most important rules?” Lucius continues looking straight ahead, his lips tight in a grim line.
“No way, Jackson wouldn't …” Thomas's grin fades as he peers into my face. “You wouldn't, would you, mate?”
“Of course he would,” Lucius mutters darkly, looking at me accusingly.
“It's someone new,” I lie. “Maybe you need to get love lives of your own.”
“And maybe there's something more important going on that should occupy your mind and not a girl,” he snaps.
“Yeah, says the person who's been staring so hard at Ginny you could have set her hair on fire,” I mumble as I grimace. We both stare hard at the other. Deadlocked.
She's not some girl, I think, but I don't dare say it. I glare at him, but he doesn't stand down. Thomas looks awkwardly between us. I've known Thomas and Lucius for a long time. Both have been reapers as long as I have—longer, actually, in Thomas's case. We run Worship together, we train together, and maybe that's the reason sometimes I would just like to punch Lucius in the face.
“OK, easy lads. Let's just let it go, shall we?” Thomas says gently, in full peacekeeper mode—a position he finds himself in frequently when Lucius and I lock horns. Which is often. “Let's just get through this. We're here for a reason.”
Neither of us says anything; just turn back to the stage. A small gathering of the Dead board, all looking bedraggled and stressed, fills the row of seats at the back, the only objects on stage apart from a tall microphone at the front. Jeanette, looking uncharacteristically scruffy in a blouse with a coffee stain down the front and a creased pencil skirt, walks towards the spotlight. Everyone falls into a hushed silence. The stars shine above us, and only the faint sound of the city in the distance disturbs the peace.
“OK, everyone. So, we all know why we're here. I'll keep it simple and brief: Death … Death is still missing.”
The theatre erupts into a mix of yelling, fearful cries and even a few tears. Even I feel an icy shiver down my spine. This was unknown territory for all of us.
“Quiet, please, quiet!” She yells across the din, and the room falls into an anxious, buzzing quiet. It's the reason she's delivering this speech. Aside from Death himself, as well as being the head of the board, no one is as respected and arguably more feared than Jeanette. “I know that this is unsettling news, and I'd hoped by now I would be delivering something better, but I won't lie to you all. For nearly five months now, we haven't been able to locate Death. We've searched every inch of the globe, every Scythe connection we can exploit. We've spoken to every sibling Death has, even consulted with the Fates, but … no one knows where he is.”
The room explodes again as people argue amongst themselves. Below my feet, I feel the amphitheatre quake under the force of the chaos. Jeanette raises her arm again, exhaustion spilling into the faint lines of her face. Suddenly, I dislike the distance between us. She's an old friend, and I want to be down there supporting her, not a part of the masses, ready with fear and uncertainty to tear her apart.
“We'll keep looking. We have the hellhounds on constant patrol. We will find him.”
“And what if you don't?!” someone cries near the front as a dozen grunts and cries echo the question.
Jeanette sighs gently. “Scythe is designed to run without Death. Its entire creation was about supporting Death as the population grew and the work became too great for one individual. Even an Ethereal like him.”
“What about his successor? Have we found them?”
She snorts. “There's no successor. That's just a rumour. Death is eternal. He doesn't need a successor.”
“And what about the Plan?” someone else yells.
Jeanette nods. “Death may be gone, but the Fates are not. And Death left the Ghouls in charge of the Plan a long time ago. There is no reason we can't continue just to do our jobs.” Until we need him. I hear the words she doesn't want to say.
“I know this is a scary time. Death created this place, selected us against all others. Without him, it's easy to feel that we're vulnerable, but we're not. He created an unbreakable system, and if we all play our parts …”
“But that's not entirely true, is it?” Thomas stands up as mine and Lucius's jaw drops, and our eyes lock on each other. Thomas's chest is heaving, his forehead shimmers in the California light.
“What are you doing?” I hiss as I see uncertainty cloud Jeanette's face.
He ignores me, batting my hand away.
“If you have something to say, Thomas. Please do. There are no secrets here.” She knots her hands in front of herself, her jaw set.
“We all know that Scythe runs fine without Death as long as everyone tows the line. Follows the rules, sticks to the plan. The system might be unbreakable, but we're not. People break; people always break. How long do we have till something happens, and we need Death to set things right?” Thomas sinks, avoiding my vicious glare.
The crowd erupts once more. This time, the fear, the uncertainty, reaches a fever pitch. I can smell it thicken in the air. The voices rise like heat, the enormous space suddenly feels small, enclosed. The board looks around, searching the chaotic crowd that has turned into a wild beast, their eyes wide, glowing white with fear. Jeanette is holding herself with as much dignity as she can, but her fists are clenched. Another reaper stands, nodding defiantly in Thomas's direction before snarling at the stage, at Jeanette.
“It's time, Jeanette. Time to stop hiding behind the rhetoric; time to do your job and find Death. And if you can't hand the board over to someone else, who can?”
“Enough,” she bellows. Enough!” But nothing happens. The yelling and stomping don't stop. “… there is really nothing to be overly concerned about.” She ends with an amused chuckle, as if all concerns are really for nothing, and then walks off the stage. Leaving a crowd hungry for blood and a board terrified of being devoured.
The coffee shop is bustling; unsurprisingly, everyone wants to discuss what's just happened. And nothing lubricates the tongue better than caffeine and mismatched furniture. I sink into the chair, watching across the dozen tables at people hunched over and talking animatedly. The smell of espresso fills the air, matched only by the sweet scent of cinnamon and pastries.
Grim Grub—a terrible name for a fairly terrible place.
Thomas is standing awkwardly in the queue. People are patting him on the back, thanking him for speaking up. Like he's some kind of hero, and Jeanette is a tongue-twisting politician. He smiles meekly back, accepting handshakes with a modesty he doesn't normally possess.
“Remind me why I agreed to this?” I mutter to Lucius, who's too busy watching the dark-haired barista behind the counter to pay much attention to anything else. He tears his eyes away, and they land heavily on me.
“Because he's our oldest friend. Because we should hear him out before you stomp off and continue your tantrum. Because he might have a …”
“Don't say it,” I growl, folding my arms tightly across my chest and dropping deeper into the uncomfortable chair.
“I know you and Jeanette are close. And I know you trust her. And so do I …” He sighs, rubbing his temples like he's in pain. “But it's been months, and nothing has changed. Maybe he was right to speak up?”
The table clunks as three steaming mugs are plonked heavily onto the surface. The steam billows towards the glass ceiling. White stars punctuate the navy darkness, bursts of light from inside the room ricochet off the glass. Thomas sits down and stares at me sheepishly. He sighs heavily before gulping down a sip of his latte and I roll my eyes, not hiding my impatience, and then he speaks.
“I want you to know … I did it because of you.”
Saying nothing, I glare at him and then move to stand, but Lucius's strong hand grips me and tugs me back down.
“Listen. Just listen.”
I pull my arm away from his grip and stare back at Thomas, waiting for him to speak.
“I spend every day evaluating people after their shifts, finding those most vulnerable or those most hardened to what we do. Do you know how often people snap? Do you know how many messes Death would have had to clear up if I hadn't flagged them early? More and more people are failing their tests. It's a vicious circle. They're scared, which is putting people on edge, or worse, making them think they're invulnerable. Answer me this, Jax: if Death was around, would you even have considered seeing this girl? Knowing what would happen if he caught you?”
Picking up the mug, I watch the bubbles swirl amongst the black. I say nothing because there is nothing I can say.
“I like Jeanette, I do. But she's so focused on keeping everything business as usual that she's ignoring what's really going on. There are so many rumours, Jax, about Death, about this so-called successor. Has anyone stopped to really think about what's happened to him?”
Help me … Jackson
My stomach turns to lead as I think about the caw of the birds, the ravens that follow me. Were they really Death asking for my help? And why me? I'd been to his office, and I had no power there. I wasn't anybody. But if he wasn't sending them, then who was?
“I have to go … I have to get back to work. I just … don't hate me. We can't pretend this isn't happening anymore. We need to face this.”
He stands up, his eyes never leaving me. He lingers for a moment, waiting for my response. Finally, he exhales and downs the rest of his coffee. Just before he steps away, I grab his arm.
“I don't hate you. But you're wrong to turn your back on Jeanette.”
“Maybe, but … maybe there's another reason Jeanette hasn't found him …”
With that, he drops his mug onto the table and walks away, leaving me with a heavy feeling behind my eyes and too many thoughts warring in my mind. The sound of the ravens' flapping wings imitates the thrashing of my heart. I listen to his footsteps and the creaking of the door as it opens and closes. I lean back in the chair and realise Lucius is watching me.
“You gonna be OK?”
I shrug. “I'm not going to change my mind. Jeanette is the best person to lead us if Death is gone. The board are cowards if they give in to mass panic.”
“Or maybe you just don't want Death found, like he said.”
I groan and bend forward, my forehead scrapping the table. There was no point lying to myself. I'd ignored the ravens, ignored the signs that Death, for whatever reason, wanted me to help him. But finding him meant my time with Millie would have to end. He'd find out, reverse time, erasing me from her memories and then lock me in a prison of the worst memories for as long as the mood took him. It was selfish, and it was wrong, but the more time I spent with her, the more walking away wasn't an option. No matter the consequences.
Lucius is looking hard at me now, his eyes filled with genuine concern. I glance away, not wanting to admit anything but also desperately wanting to talk about it.
“She's not … she's just …” I should lie and say she's nothing. But even lying feels disrespectful to her, and the look on Lucius's face tells me he won't believe me, anyway.
“I know I need to end it. I shouldn't have started it. I just … Have you ever felt a connection with someone? Something real, something immediate? I don't really know what it is, but I've been sleepwalking for a long time. We both know it. And right now, I feel fully awake. And it's because of her.”
Lucius nods, his face kind.
“And that's great, but it can't last. You know that, even if Scythe doesn't catch you, then time will. In five, ten years' time, won't she wonder why you still look the same? Or how you make a living? Or any number of things. Real connections, they're based on honesty. Real understanding of who the other person is. She can't know you, mate. This can't be anything.”
“And what would you know about honesty? Ginny is right there, has been for years, and you haven't told her shit about how you feel.”
His eyes peek at Ginny, smiling warmly at a customer. The hunger, the longing there. He can't hide it, couldn't even if he wanted to.
“You want me to say I'm afraid? Then fine, I'm afraid. And maybe I'm a hypocrite for lecturing you, but … you don't need me to tell you what you're doing is going to end badly. You already know that.”
“I know, I know. I'm just … I'm not strong enough to walk away from her. Not yet.”
“It isn't going to get easier, Jax. It's only gonna get worse.”
I nod but say nothing else. My eyes focus on my mug, my hands, anything but the look on Lucius's face.
“Are you going to tell anyone?” I finally drag my eyes up to his face.
“What? No, of course not. I don't care about the stupid rules. I just don't wanna see one of my oldest friends go through hell later when I could help him stop that today.”
I smile, genuinely touched by his friendship, but more than that—I'm amused that he thinks I still have time to save myself.
“It's too late for me. I put up a fight, but I was no match for her. I'm going through hell, no matter what.”
He exhales, putting his arms behind the back of his head. Without waiting for a response, I get up off the chair and head to the door. I try to wait, counting my heavy, echoing steps, but within seconds, my hand is in my pocket, dragging out my phone.
Millie: He's a Bichon Frise! There's more bloodlust in a hamster! I've got more. Just you wait. You're going down.
I read her message and soak up the feeling it gives me. This girl will be the end of me, but before that, I'll take every last bit of life force she breathes into my dusty soul. She'll ruin me, but I'll go down with a smile.