Page 106 of Grim

“No one, reaper. Not a single, solitary soul.”

“Not you. Not Rue. Not Cindy Lou Who.”

I hold my tongue. I want to voice my disdain. I want to live in Rue’s reality—a world where one mistake is not an eternal sentence, a universe built on forgiveness and growth.

I want to, but I dare not. This is not Rue’s realm. I would only be signing my sad existence away to ages of pain and ruin.

“Did you have something you wanted to say, reaper?” Fate goads me.

“Does the cog in my perfectly tuned clock want to use his pathetic little voice?” Time piles on.

“That’s enough,” D says, his voice barely audible as he flicks some dust off the skull.

“My sister is right,” Time states, ignoring D. “You’ve forgotten who you are, who runs this show, and who holds your leash. We say bark, and you say …”

The silence stretches for ages. The outer limit of my humility stretches near oblivion. The best I can do in this situation is maintain this lie and play my part. I can keep Rue safe by being the source of the Sisters’ ire and playing at obedience.

Knowing I’ve accomplished all I can in this exchange, I swallow the last vestiges of my pride and softly murmur, “Woof.”

The Sisters laugh while clapping and bouncing up and down.

“Good boy,” Fate declares.

“Now get back to work and supervise that pasty pest until she’s ours.”

“And no more interventions from that importunate unfortunate, Kane. Or you both will pay.”

“Are we clear?”

I grit my teeth, holding back a sea of invectives and insults. “Crystal,” I manage to push the word past my locked jaw.

“Good,” the Sisters say in unison.

“Then we’ll see you both at Big D’s ball. At least we know you can’t get into trouble there,” Fate finishes.

“Oh, we shall see about that.” Time smiles. “Something tells me Kane may already be in more trouble than he’s letting on.”

“His eyes do have that sparkle, don’t they, sis?”

“They do, Fate. They really do.”

“We’d better be wrong, of course,” Fate says, boring her gaze deep into me. “Or you’llRuethe day, reaper.”

With that, they both laugh and then disappear.

“Well,” D says, his voice sounding like a tombstone tipping over, “isn’t this going to be interesting?”

BoundfortheBall

Itwist in front of the mirror, frowning at the corset as I try to yank the laces tighter with one hand. It’s like wrestling a romanticized boa constrictor. “Why did I think I could do this alone?”

“Because you’re a bit mad,” comes Seek’s chirpy little voice from the corner, followed by him flopping onto the bed like he owns it. “An’ you ain’t even had a proper fitting! That bodice is gonna pop off and take someone’s eye out.”

I glance at him over my shoulder, trying not to laugh. He’s sprawled out like a Victorian ragamuffin, arms behind his head, ghostly boots kicked up in casual repose. Esther sits delicately beside him, tail flicking with exaggerated disapproval.

“Why don’t you come lace me up then?” I say, spinning to face him. “Or are ghostly fingers only good for breaking dishes?”

Seek gasps with mock offense. “’Scuse me! I was a really good helper in me time. I had the nimblest fingers in East London!”