Chapter Fifty-One
Millie
I open my eyes, jerking when I find myself no longer in Jackson's bedroom. A crisp wind knocks the air from my lungs, and I gasp. I don't see the familiar monochrome of Jackson's flat. Instead, I'm outside, standing next to an expanse of water. A fjord, just like I'd seen in photographs. It was so still; the moody sky above was perfectly mirrored in the deep crystal water. Great snow-capped mountains encircle us. A dense forest lurks directly behind the water, trees so vibrant, almost bluish in their rich darkness. The air is so pure, sweetened with the scent of pine needles and apple blossom. I'm breathless, confused, and blown away by such beauty.
“Nice choice.”
I turn sharply to the sound of the unfamiliar voice. Standing behind me is an older man I've never seen before. He's wearing a suit in various shades of pale grey, his milky blonde hair slicked back and neatly styled. Mischief twinkles in the liquid silver of his eyes. There are no doubts in my mind about who he is.
“You're … you're him, aren't you?”
He says nothing, just stares at me through Jackson's eyes. In fact, except for his blonde hair and older appearance, he looks heartbreakingly like his son.
Jackson. Thinking of him makes my chest ache.
“Where is he?”
He walks forward till he's standing by my side. I turn to follow his gaze. My eyes return to the haunting beauty of the fjord.
“He's back where you left him. It was me. I'm the one who reaped you, Millie. I couldn't save you, but I could spare him the pain of that, at least. That's not a wound that ever leaves the soul,” he says with enough rawness that I know he's talking about Jackson's mother and maybe even Jackson himself. “He is my son, after all.”
I nod and wrap my arms around myself. The wind is fierce and alive—I savour the feel of it crashing into my face, my skin. I turn to look at Death.
“I know he ran away when you tried to tell him the truth, but you didn't fight for him, did you? You just walked off, left him alone. He lost his mum, then he died, and where were you?”
I know that accusing the most powerful being in existence of being a neglectful father may not be a good idea, but for Jackson, I need to speak. He chuckles sadly and turns to look down at me.
“I know. For a long time, I told myself I was being kind, giving him the space he needed to heal, keeping him away from a painful truth he didn't want to hear, but in the end … in the end, I think I was protecting myself more.” He smirks at me and his smile is so much like his son's that I can't help but match it. He dips his head closer to mine. “Even Ethereal's have issues.”
“I've met your sister. I've noticed.”
He laughs at that, a proper belly laugh that has him throwing his head back.
“There's a saying about how if you look long enough into the darkness, it looks back at you. I think if you spend an eternity watching mortals … well, I think my sister and I have suffered from a similar affliction.”
I nod, turning back to the water.
“Where are we? Is Jackson OK?”
“No, he's not OK, but in time … He truly loves you, you know.” He glances down at me, smiling gently. “We're in Norway. I've been told you always wanted to go, and there are some perks in having me as your reaper.” He winks at me, and I giggle.
“I didn't realise I'd ever told Jackson about his place.”
“He didn't.” His face softens, and he glances behind me. “She did.”
I know it's not really my heart I feel—I left that behind with my body, but it storms, rages, and threatens to burst from my chest, regardless. When I turn around and see her, a broken wail escapes my lips, my knees almost buckling beneath me.
Mum walks out of a door hovering in mid-air. Painted in the shade of an English summer's day, glass panels shimmer in shades of rose and lavender. I run to her, stopping a few steps away, needing to be sure, needing to know I wasn't about to be broken in two once more. She looks like Mum, and not the pale, frail woman lying in that hospital bed or the bloated, grey-skinned shadow who battled the treatments as hard as she'd fought the cancer. This was Mum as she truly was, the way I fought to remember her.
Dark wavy hair just like mine, but hers shorter, the ends brushing against her jaw. She's in her cracked leather jacket, which I'd worn almost every day since she'd passed. Her face was gilded in the make-up she'd never leave the house without. Her signature, she used to say.
“Hello, beautiful girl.” She laughs and opens her arms. Any doubt disappears at the sound of her voice, and I run to her. She wraps her arms around me and holds me so tight that I almost forget I'd ever lost her.
“What are you … how are you …” I turn around and face Death, who is watching us, his face mildly amused. He shrugs at me, smirking mysteriously.
“Jackson and the other reapers might not know what happens once the door shuts, but I do.” He opens his arms wide with playful drama. “I am the Angel of Death, the Grim Reaper, the Pale Rider … I know some shit.” He grins, showing straight white teeth, and I laugh.
I turn back to Mum, her tears leaving dark smudges down her cheeks.
“I have to say, I was a little surprised when he turned up.” Mum takes my face in her hands, pride beaming in her eyes. “I knew my girl would change the world. I didn't know she'd also save it.”
“Well, technically, both our children …” Death starts, but Mum flicks her wrist and waves him into silence. He shoves his hands in his pockets, smirking as he turns away.
“I'm so sorry, Millie. All I ever wanted for you was a long and happy life. This is so … wrong.”
“You deserved a long and happy life too, Mum.”
Her face drops sadly. “I'm glad you had the chance to live a little before you went, to have an adventure. And you dated a reaper? Couldn't have had a nice, normal boyfriend?”
I laugh, brushing the tears off my cheeks. “Are you, of all people, telling me to date someone normal?”
“Well … at least he's cute.”
“Please tell me you didn't flirt with my boyfriend?” My jaw drops, and I shake my head playfully.
She laughs, then puts her hands on her hips. “In my defence, he wasn't your boyfriend then. Plus, I was dead and if you can't flirt with a cute young reaper, then when can you?”
“Or an older one. Your mum doesn't discriminate,” Death adds, wriggling his eyebrows, and she pouts at him.
“Oh my god,” I say, chuckling, my hand going to my flushed face. I was too happy to be mad or embarrassed. I take a step back and look at her, the healthy glow in her cheeks, the peace in her eyes.
“Are you happy, Mum?” I whisper, everything suddenly seeming serious. She smiles softly and looks over my shoulder at Death, her lips tightening.
“That's a sort of need to know. I can't talk about what happens through that door, but … I'm where I'm supposed to be,” she says finally, and when I turn, Death nods. Mum smiles at him respectfully.
“When I go, will we be together?” I whisper, my voice small.
She glances at Death but then answers quickly. “Yes.”
I sense him taking a step forward, and I know she's said too much. A strange sort of calm falls over me. I hadn't wanted to die, but whatever happens next, I'll be with Mum, and that thought makes me happy. Even if Jackson will be the hole in my heart that could never be filled.
Pulling Mum into another hug, I sink into that calm, warm sense of being loved. By her, by Jackson. Maybe my life hadn't been the easiest and ended far too soon. But I'd been loved, and that was enough. More than many people got to have. I had no doubts that I'd been lucky.
I turn back to the fjord, feeling Death and Mum moving to stand on either side of me. Mum squeezes my shoulder gently. I turn to him.
“What happens now?”
He nods in the direction behind me, and I see a door—rustic, the colour of driftwood and carved with intricate designs, of people, of my life.
“You'll ask me the question, and when I say yes, I walk on through. Have I got it?”
Death watches me serenely. Even though he's still in his human skin, I feel like I'm looking at him in his true form. They aren’t eyes of silver peering down at me but empty sockets of black. My throat feels raw, the hard lump growing. Fear pools in my belly. Whatever is about to happen, good or bad, was final. This was an ending.
“Can you stay?” I turn to Mum and then back to Death. “Can she stay till I go?”
He nods and glances at Mum. Something unspoken passes between them. She smiles at me, tears in her eyes and brushes the hair from my face. I look one more time at her face, at the strength and happiness radiating from her. Whatever her disease had taken, death had returned to her. I turn back to Death, not really to look at him but to find the hints of Jackson in his features. To see the man I love in the face of his father.
“I wish Jackson was here.”
Death's eyes widen slightly.
“But I'm glad he won't have to live with this.”
Twisting, I stare again at my door, at the tiny details and intricacies that make it mine. It hangs weightlessly off the ground. The impenetrable forest, the peaks of trees kissing the shimmer of mist from the mountains directly behind it. Mum squeezes my hand tight. Death steps in front of us, his feet crunching the grass underfoot. His hands knot in front of himself, his face solemn.
“Amelia Eva Nightingale. I have a question for you.”