Chapter Twenty-Four #2
His smile broadens to a wicked grin. “I am the master of death, not a troll.” He wedges the lollipop in his cheek. “Though I appreciate the compliment nonetheless.”
I’m not sure I meant it as one. Gideon is the type of handsome that feels like a threat. Like the edge of a blade or the too-still waters of a pristine lake. I know something sinister lies beneath.
He leans closer. “You wouldn’t be buttering me up, would you, Darcy?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you, my dear, are in quite a bit of trouble.”
My stomach flips. It’s one thing to know, hypothetically, that you are making choices that fall outside the guidelines of your position. It is quite another to sit on a bench with the head of all Grim Reapers, facing the metaphorical guillotine.
It could be an actual guillotine. I really don’t know.
“Why am I in trouble?”
Gideon laughs. “Don’t play dumb, darling. It doesn’t suit you. Choose one of the many rules you’ve broken and I’m sure we can make it apply.”
It’s unnerving, having a conversation with someone when you can’t see their eyes. Gideon turns his face toward mine, and all I see is my own wobbly reflection in his glasses, far too pale in the dark lenses.
“Let’s not waste time.” He drops one elbow on the arm of the bench, then props his chin on his knuckles. “I’d very much like to get back to my vacation.”
I haven’t seen Gideon once during my time as a Reaper. He’s an omnipresent figure. Often talked about. Rarely seen. I thought he was busy managing the scales of death, but apparently he was—
“Vacation,” I repeat. “This whole time, you’ve been on vacation?”
“Oh, I’ve had my errands as well. A little bit of this. A little bit of that.” He looks down the suspiciously empty street and rubs his thumb against his forefinger. “Most recently I’ve found myself wandering the vineyards of Sorrento.”
I frown, a surge of anger making me feel bold. “Why is it you get to do as you please, but I have to do as I’m told?”
His eyebrows raise, surprised.
“For one,” he says, still the absolute portrait of indolence.
“I have a couple centuries of experience over you. Additionally, I am not trying to save the lives of the mortals I’ve been told to claim, creating an entire shit storm to suit my needs.
” His expression darkens. “Just because I don’t put in my time at the department doesn’t mean I’m not working, Darcy.
Truly, how archaic. Everyone knows that a remote workforce is often a more effective one. ”
He flicks an imaginary piece of lint off the leg of his pants and sighs heavily. I hold myself perfectly still and try not to panic.
“The truth is the fluorescents at the department wash me out. I can’t stand to be there.
” He turns toward me and extends his arm along the top of the bench.
Goose bumps immediately pebble my skin. I inch away from his arm as subtly as possible, but he pinches the top collar of my jacket, holding me in place.
“My darling, surely you aren’t surprised.
You’ve spent the last several weeks actively trying to dismantle the mission of the Reapers. ”
“And what is the mission of the Reapers?” I ask, feeling very much like a mouse caught under the paw of an apex predator.
“Death, of course.” He fixes me with a look. I don’t need to see his eyes to decipher it. I have reached the end of Gideon’s seemingly endless patience. “Did you truly think you saved him, Darcy?”
“I hoped,” I whisper.
“Hope.” He waves his hand with a scoff. “Useless.”
“Not to me.”
His head cocks to the side. “Why is it that you’re so opposed to death?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Nate is young, and happy, and he doesn’t deserve to be run down by a car on the side of the road.”
“And in your limited expertise”—he stresses the word—“do you feel that death always comes for those who deserve it?”
I squeeze my hands so tight my nails sink into my skin. My fear is eclipsed by my frustration. “Of course it doesn’t. And I’m tired of ending the lives of people who don’t deserve it. I’m tired of watching good people fade away.”
I think of the room with the cabinets. The countless folders that sit in those drawers.
Frank’s face as I walked away, holding his little girl’s hand.
The sound he made when we disappeared. I think of that single door behind Maverick’s desk where all the souls go.
A door that leads in only one direction.
Gideon hums. “You believe death is an ending,” he surmises.
“Of course it is. What do you mean?”
It feels like a trick. Like a mockery of all the things I hold most dear. But Gideon just continues staring at me calmly, then unfolds his body from the bench.
He stands in front of me, his hands behind his back.
“I encourage you to broaden your horizons.” He pulls the watch from his front pocket, flicks it open to check the time, then snaps it shut again.
“In the meantime, you owe me a life. While I appreciate your desire to evaluate your options, this is not the time or the place. Bring me the man you’ve been assigned, or I will be forced to collect him for myself.
And I can assure you, Darcy, if I’m the one to do it, it will be far from pleasant. ”
“What if I don’t?”
Gideon pushes his glasses up his nose. “We are all bound to the rules of the department. This ends one of two ways, Darcy,” he says softly. Almost apologetically, like he’d change it if he could.
But I hear the threat that lingers at the edge of the promise, rolled tightly into one neat little package.
“Tell me you understand,” he says.
I hesitate. His eyebrows inch up his forehead.
“I understand,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Good.” He glances over his shoulder with a clap of his hands. “Now. Can you tell me where I can find one of those ice cream cones that idiot had? I have a craving for mint chip.”