Chapter Fifty-Three
Jackson
T he knocking on the motel door comes again, and I groan. Clanging repeatedly against the wood, the sound attacks my pounding head. The white noise of daytime TV churns in the background, scraping inside my ears. My tongue is coated in fur and opening my eyes hurts, actually hurts. There's no air in this room; the place stinks of fast food, booze, and me.
“Jackson Mort!”
The TV screen is hazy at first, but slowly, my eyes focus. I can see a shiny-faced cook on the screen pulling a perfectly baked banana bread from a glossy oven. Did Millie like banana bread? I'd never asked her. Why hadn't I asked her that? Everything—every random sound, smell, or mindless chatter on the TV— makes me think of her. She haunts me, and I can't escape it. I don't want to.
“Jackson, open up now, or I'm sending in a legion of hellhounds, maybe some Ghouls too,” Jeanette shrieks through the door.
I don't move. My whisky-soaked head is heavy, my throat as dry as the floor of a birdcage.
“Go. Away,” I croak.
“I will literally bring an army of Death Wardens to break down this door. I can, you know, I have an actual army at my disposal.”
Sighing, I lean my head back into the musty cushion, my body curled up on the small settee. I'd slept through the daylight hours, and now, trying to move, every muscle was screaming in protest.
“Open this door now!”
I haul myself up, stumbling slightly when my foot hits an empty beer bottle. Cursing, I keep walking. The blinds are drawn, and the faint light hitting the room is blueish and dull. I open the door, leaning against the doorframe as the whoosh of hot air crashes into my face. Jeanette's open mouth slams shut, her lips pursed tightly as she looks me over.
“You look like shit,” she says before clicking her tongue. “I'm not sure what you're trying to grow on your face, but it looks like roadkill.” She glances down at my bare chest distastefully. “Have you given up on shirts as well as life?”
“You look amazing,” I say, my throat coarse.
She shakes her head and barges past me into the room. She looks good, her hair styled in perfect victory rolls, her pencil skirt pressed to perfection, and her heels clicking against the floor. I follow her in with a sigh. She assesses the room or the wreckage that used to be a room. Now, it's covered in empty bottles, unwashed clothes, and booze-stained sheets. Mounds of empty takeaway containers are scattered about the floor.
“Wow, and I thought you looked bad.”
She spins on her tip-toes and appraises me again, this time her eyes soften.
“I've been worried about you. We all have. Do you have any idea how many people I've had out searching for you? Even Death … even your dad couldn't find you.”
I shrug, looking down at my bare feet scuffing the threadbare carpet. I'd come here straight after Millie's funeral, and before that, I'd kept myself hidden. Her funeral was sad, painfully so. Roisin had wept, her boys the only thing keeping her steady. Her friend Chloe had told stories of their childhood, fat tears forming white tracks on her cheeks. I'd stayed at the back, hidden in the shadows. Where I belonged.
“Figured it was a good time to learn how to use my powers.” I look at her face, meeting her eye. “How did you find me?”
The corner of her lip twitches.
“Pure luck. A reaper spotted you when the old man on reception passed on.”
“I didn't want to be found, Jeanette. Now, please, leave me alone.”
Her hands slam to her hips.
“That's not really an option, given you broke almost every one of Scythe's rules and still haven't had your punishment. You need to come in.”
I blink at her; my eyes feel sore and sticky. The dark light of the room was making my mind even slower than the weeks of alcohol and junk food already had.
“Losing her wasn't punishment enough?” I ask weakly, regretting my words as soon as I say them.
Her face loses its sternness, turning gentle, but only for a moment.
“That's not how it works. Death locked Lucius in one of his cells for a month, and, well … you know what happened to Thomas and Atropos. You can't avoid this. You're better than that.”
A comment like that would normally break me, dig under my skin, and take root. But there's nothing left of me. I'm empty. You can't grow feelings in a barren shell.
I walk over to the unmade bed and sink down. Jeanette raises an eyebrow but says nothing. She wanders over to the window and opens the latch. Wild noise rushes inside. The Day of the Dead festival happening right outside my door explodes into the grey silence of this room.
“You picked one hell of a time to come to Mexico. Any reason?”
“She wanted to see it.” My voice cracks., and Jeanette turns to me. “You told me to find someone. I did, and I lost her. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now.”
She turns back to me, her face unreadable. “In my defence, I told you to ask out Jen in IT.” She exhales. “Hiding away isn't the answer, is it?”
“I know. I just needed time.”
“I was proud of you, the way you handled everything. You made a mistake in trying to stop Millie passing over the first time, but how you went about putting it right … not many people are as strong as that.”
“I had her with me.”
“I know. But it's time for you to be strong again.”
I close my eyes, leaning forward on the bed so my weight is on my knees.
Jeanette walks closer. “It's been three months. I know you're grieving, mourning, but there are things you don't know. Things Death needs you to come back and face.”
“Why are you here and not him?”
“Because he put me in control of Scythe, and I told him I'd do this. I'm … well, he's put me in charge. The rumours were true. He had selected a successor. I just didn't realise it was me.”
“Congratulations,” I say sincerely.
She smiles. “And my first piece of business … you're coming back with me right now.”
I sink deeper into the bed for a moment. She's right. I have to go back and face the consequences of the chaos I caused. It was the right thing to do, even though really I just wanted to stay in the hole I've built and bury myself here.
“OK.”
She grins at me and then shifts her face back into something more professional. She takes out her phone, and a few taps later, the door appears in the centre of the room. She walks towards it, holding it open. In the main atrium of Scythe, people are wandering about, looking busy and occupied.
I drag myself up, staring at the door. And slowly I walk on through, back inside the belly of the beast. Back inside Scythe.
Time to go home.
Scythe is back to normal. Death really has reversed everything. The experience hasn't gone from people's memories. How close we all came to destruction, it's just … it technically didn't happen. I slowly walk to Jeanette's office, feeling heavy and weighed down but also stretched out, translucent, and paper-thin. I feel like a broken thing, less somehow, and I'm sure that lack is written all over my face. People glance at me as I pass, but I don't care.
“Put some clothes on,” Jeanette hisses.
That may also explain the wayward glances.
I look down at myself. I'm wearing jeans, but nothing else.
Jeanette glances at me and tuts. “If Death can change his body, surely his son …”
Concentrating hard, I find the power I'd buried for so long, that link to time, reality, those things that were just a little more malleable for Ethereals like Death, and now me. A jumper and boots appear on my body. Jeanette blinks in surprise but then nods in approval. She walks a few paces ahead of me. I follow closely behind.
“Where are we going? I'm guessing you've decided how to punish me?”
Jeanette glances back at me but just keeps walking down the long corridor. The torches flicker as we pass, and our feet slap loudly against the marble floor.
“If you hadn't disappeared, you'd know. In fact, all of this would be very different.”
I know Jeanette wants me to dig deeper, but I don't, partly because I don't want to give her the satisfaction and also because I don't care. I have lost the last thing that ever mattered to me. Whatever is coming won't compare to that, however severe.
“So … what hell have you signed me up for? It's Ghoul duty? Right,” I joke just to break the painful silence.
She chuckles.
“That would punish Carmel, which would punish me … so no.” She stops before a gleaming black door, her eyes going soft. “You really should have stayed in touch,” she whispers, slowing down and looking at me hard from the side of her eyes.
I say nothing.
She ushers me into a large circular room—one I've not seen in a long time—the training sphere. The space looks much like the main atrium, all black and gold marble. Glass walls surrounding the whole of the room show a sight I recognise well—Paris, but before my time. There's no Eiffel Tower looming in the distance. This is Death's view. My father is here.
“What am I doing here?” I mumble.
“You're on training duty,” she snaps, looking around, her arms folded sternly.
“Are you serious? Jeanette, I …”
Voices ring out from the other room, the door opens, and Death walks in. He's now wearing a pristine white suit. It's casual and looks like he's fallen hard out of an eighties music video. His grin is just as bright.
“Ah, Jackson.” He turns to me. Something like hurt flashes across his face, and guilt creeps across my skin. A little anyway.
Having my father back in my life is strange, and though I don't think the anger I've clung to for so long remains, leaving was just something I needed to do. To mourn Millie, to look around at the debris of my life and work out what came next. I had lived too long without him to take him too heavily into account.
“I wasn't sure if we were going to see you again.” He raises an eyebrow in my direction.
“I needed time, space.” I shrug.
“Guess it runs in the family,” he says. His voice is amused, but I hear the wound concealed underneath.
I hold his gaze. “Except I didn't leave any children behind.”
He flinches but just nods. The smile is not fading.
“I deserve that, and it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how far you run or for how long; I will always be here for you. I'll always be waiting, Jackson.”
I don't know what to say because I believe every word as much as I wish I didn't. I swallow hard, staring at him. He takes a step forward. The uncertainty is obvious.
“It wasn't you I was running from. I was running from a world without her.”
“I know.”
“Whatever my punishment is,” I say, glancing at Jeanette, who smiles before I turn back to Death. “I'm here for it. I'm not running again.”
Death nods and grins.
“And you're ready to go back to work?” Jeanette adds.
“Yes,” I swallow hard. In some ways, I feel like I'll never be ready, but I also know wallowing in my misery will do nothing to honour Millie. And would do nothing to help my grief. I'd run from loss for decades, ran so hard I'd run from living, too. Losing Millie felt like I was dying myself, over and over, a little more every day. But I'd never regret meeting her, loving her. Being with her, for what little time we had, was worth the pain of losing her. “I'm ready.”
“Well, that's good because I need to talk to you about your punishment.”
Laughter rings out from the next room, and my heart stops— just freezes; it becomes motionless in my chest as all logic and months of pain argue against what my ears are screaming to me.
The door opens, and a group of black-robed trainees walk into the room, chatting away happily. I scan the faces, searching for the one I'd know in any place, in any time. And then Millie cuts through the crowd. Her cheeks flushed, hair unbound and draped down her shoulders. When she sees me, her entire body changes. She stops, lights up, glowing from the inside out. Those full lips break into an even wider smile.
“Jackson,” she breathes. “They found you.”
My body is frozen; rooted to the ground. My eyes absorb every inch of her. We don't move; we just stare at each other.
“You're … here.”
“Death offered me a chance to be a reaper.” She looks at him, nodding in subte reverence. “I could have passed over, been with Mum, but … there are just so many things I still wanted to do. And I'd just found the person I'd wanted to do them all with.”
“Yes, yes,” I laugh, shaking my head. I am so filled with joy that I feel like I might burst. I rush towards her, stopping a step away as a thought pierces my happiness. “But you're OK? With this life, with what this means?”
She smiles, though it's a little sad. She thinks a long time before she answers.
“This isn't exactly the life I planned, but the things I saw with you, what you showed me about being a reaper … I've seen death now and know what it means. I want to help people, bring peace where I can. And for me, I want to see the world, take a photo on every continent, paint in every country, and I have you there with me. My life has never been what everyone else's has, and I've always been angry about that. But I'm not angry anymore. I chose this life.”
“I don't know what to say. You're here …” I can't take my eyes off her. My head is still shaking in disbelief. She laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound in the world. It's her that moves first. She launches herself at me, her arms around my neck, her feet off the floor. The strength returns to me, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into me, into my chest, against my heart. I hold her tight, taking in everything, every scent, every sound that makes her Millie.
“Millie …” I mumble, and she laughs again. “I don't … I don't …”
“I know … I know.”
I let her slide to the ground, her feet now on the floor. I take her face in my hands and kiss her. And I don't care that we're being watched; the whole world could see, and I wouldn't notice. For every second I've missed, I kiss her. For every moment I thought I'd lost her, I kiss her. Our lips crush together, move together, each as desperate and hungry as the other.
I don't know how long it lasts, but when we break apart, our lips are swollen, and we're breathless, but our eyes never leave each other. I kiss Millie again, gently, this time pulling her back to me.
“Are you done?” Jeanette's voice is severe, but she's losing a battle against her smile. Death stands next to her, arms folded sternly but with a a subtle smile playing on his lips. The trainees are standing against a wall, all failing to pretend they're not watching.
“Didn't fancy telling me in Mexico?”
She smirks. “I figured you could wait a few more moments. And I wanted you to come in willingly.”
I laugh, not caring. I turn back to Death. “But you said … you said nothing could be done?”
He nods, understanding my words.
“It had to be her choice. Not yours. It had to be hers, and when the time was right, I asked her the question.” He walks towards me. “I would have told you … but you disappeared.”
“You could have told me the moment she passed … you could have …”
Death's face turns mask-like, unreadable.
“Do you know why I only ask people if they want to become a reaper just as they're about to walk through their door, and even then, only a precious few?”
I shake my head, Millie still a warm presence in my arms.
“Because there are some things you need to experience. Becoming a reaper is not escaping death; it's simply another door through which to walk. Millie died, and you needed to accept that reality before I could present you with another. Do you understand?”
I open my mouth to say I understand until I realise I don’t. Not even a little. I look back down at Millie, who smiles brightly up at me. She's real—she's real and standing in front of me.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” I whisper. “I never would have left …”
“It's OK,” she says. “I'm sorry you didn't know, that you were out there alone …”
“That was his choice,” Jeanette barks, and Millie bites her lip and nods. Death takes a step towards us, his face serious, and I know what's coming.
“So … it's time to talk about your punishment,” Death says, his voice firm. “… you're going to train our newest set of recruits.”
Laughing, I run my hands across my face as Millie giggles against me. I pull her into my chest, kissing the top of her head, grounding myself in the feel of her.
“I know you said no before, but I figured you have an excellent incentive this time,” Jeanette says, breaking into a fierce grin.
Death and Jeanette chuckle, glancing at each other. A few more trainees walk in from the other room, Lucius trailing behind them.
“This your punishment too?” I ask, and he rolls his eyes at me.
“It's been brought to my attention that I need to get out of the archives more often.”
Jeanette smirks as Lucius shoots her an unimpressed look.
“You do always smell like old books.” He shakes his head at me, and I move away from Millie to pull my old friend into a tight hug.
“Ginny seems to like it.” He grins, and then his smile cracks and falls. “I miss him,” Lucius whispers close to my ear, and I hear the sadness in his voice.
“Me too.” He backs away from me, and I feel the guilt creep under my skin. I hadn't just been mourning Millie; I'd been grieving for Thomas, too, and I'd left Lucius to do it alone.
“I'm sorry I left.”
He smiles sadly, nodding a little. He glances at Millie. “She's actually much better company than you, to be honest; a much better listener. Doesn't talk about herself half as much.”
Millie laughs as she moves forward, and Lucius gently wraps an arm around her shoulders.
“Well, that is definitely true.” She smiles up at us both.
“So you've been training her to be a reaper, huh?”
Death and Jeanette move closer to the three of us. The small group of trainees talk amongst themselves, sensing we need this moment.
“We all have, and confidentially, Millie's a natural.”
She looks up at me, her nose scrunching. That smile still plays on her lips. She shoots Lucius a grin.
“You have competition for Scythe's best reaper.”
“You do,” Jeanette says with a chuckle.
I look at them all: Jeanette and Lucius, my oldest friends, the people who stood in the dark with me. At Death, my father, the person who kept himself always one foot in and out of my life, someone who wants to be all in now and someone I'm going to let in.
And Millie. My world. My home. The light at the end of my long, dark tunnel.
“You ready to get started, then?”
“Are you?” she whispers, standing on her tiptoes to kiss me one more time. She pulls away, moving to stand with the rest of the trainees, all staring at me and Lucius eagerly. Lucius grins, nudging me with his elbow.
I hear laughter as Death and Jeanette wander out of the room, leaving us to it.
“OK, everyone ready to meet their newest trainer?” Lucius yells, the bright and eager faces staring at him respectfully.
I take a step forward, about to speak, but my focus still lingers on her, and she knows it, smiling adoringly at me. Her lips part, and she mouths the words 'I love you’, and I know I'm finally home. She glows with happiness, radiates with it. So different from the grief-stricken, broken girl I saw in that hospital. And I am different. I'm no longer alone. Not just because I found her but because I found everyone else in my life, too.
“OK, everyone. I'm Jackson Mort. Let's get started.”