Page 51 of Grim

Rue spent the evening sleeping—the first smart decision she’d made since I arrived. I could not sleep. Though I do not need the same amount of rest as a mortal might, my energy levels still require regular resetting. But that quiet has been hard to come by since that kiss. My mind was consumed. The gentle pressure of Rue’s lips against mine lingered. The honeysuckle taste on her tongue haunted. The warmth of her touch radiated.

It’s been hours since Rue and I had crossed over into a territory far more dangerous than anything I’ve experienced since my own crossing over, and I was having a hard time concentrating on anything else. As Rue rested, I read. My mind flitting between the pages of her well-worn library in between fits of distraction as our kiss played in a loop in my mind. Not even the haunting prose of Brontë could keep my thoughts off Rue.

“Now what?” Rue blurts from her spot on the couch. She sits in the lotus pose, her back straight, her eyes peering straight ahead.

When she entered the room, I have no idea. How long she’s been there, I could not say. For a being with an actual body, she is quiet. And I must be even more distracted than I thought. I need to pull it together.

I glance out the window and see the sun pouring through the curtains. “Good morning to you too.”

“Let’s go somewhere.”

“Before breakfast?” I deadpan.

“I don’t have time for breakfast, Kane. I need to do stuff,” Rue huffs, her frustration coloring her cheeks crimson in an infuriatingly adorable way.

“You should always make time for breakfast, Mayday. A perfectly brewed cup of coffee, accompanied by a freshly baked croissant, enjoyed leisurely on a balcony overlooking the Seine? I can almost smell the beans and taste the folded layers of butter now. Divine.” I briefly close my eyes and take an exaggerated inhale. “If you haven’t done that, can you even say you’ve lived?”

Rue stares daggers at me from across the room. I wish she’d point those peepers down at the table between us, where that mini mountain of a cat lies like a crumpled afghan. The tension in her forehead softens.

“Fine,” she says calmly. “Let’s do that then.”

“No can do, Mayday. This isn’t Disney, and I ain’t a genie.” I pause for a fraction of a second. “But you’re welcome to rub me if you want to be totally sure.”

She ignores this crass comment, staying on topic.

“I’m serious, Grim. Let’s go. Portal to Paris, please.”

“Ce n’est pas possible,ma chère.”

“Why isn’t it possible? We took that portal before. Let’s take another one.”

“The portals are reserved for business use only. Death’s Door, LLC runs a tight ship.Company property is to be used for company business only.” I recite the passage fromReaper Regulationsfrom rote memory. “I can use them to return to the OtherWorld. We can use them to attend to a soul departing, but they’re not available for personal use.”

“So, I guess I can cross Everest off the bucket list,” Rue jokes.

“Yeah, my leadership doesn’t sanction a lot of vacation time, probably because time doesn’t belong to us anymore after we cross over.” Not much of anything belongs to us anymore over there, but I don’t share those bleak thoughts with Rue. She doesn’t need to know about the crushing mundanity and loneliness that most endure.Moments of my mortal life that mattered pierce the veil of memory. I shake them off. “Anyway, I’m afraid there’s no private passage to reserve.”

“Bummer. High altitude isn’t really my thing anyway.” She pauses for a beat, then smiles. “You know what airline travels to the OtherWorld?”

I stare at her blankly.

“Spirit.”

“Wow.”

“Oh, come on! That was good.”

“It wasn’t bad. More entertaining than ALP’sSoul, You Made It to the AfterLife. Now What?welcome video.”

Her face falls. “Are you serious? There’s a welcome video?”

“Sure, it’s all very corporate. The world is overpopulated as is, lots of deaths every second of every day and we have to get each one to processing. It’s just easier to have you all watch the welcome video that answers the same questions you all have so we can continue with our jobs.”

“Will I live in the OtherWorld when I die?” My spine straightens at her question.

“Doubtful. Not every soul lives there. The OtherWorld is Big D’s territory so most who live there work for him. There are other sectors that some go to if they’re chosen for placement, and then some choose bliss.”

“Bliss?”