Page 91 of Grim

“Noted,” I mumble, still staring at my phone.

“Second, what?”

“I just received an event reminder.”

“Reapers have a Calendar app?”

“No, this was a personal message from Sleep’s brother himself. Death.”

“Oh. What did he say?”

“We have to go somewhere,” I say, voice lower now.

“We?” Rue queries suspiciously. “You mean I’m actually invited somewhere?”

“Not willingly, Mayday, I assure you,” I grunt. “It’s a formal event.”

Her brows shoot up. “Formal?”

I nod. “OtherWorld masquerade. Hosted by Big D.”

“Are you telling me that Death throws … parties?”

I glance sideways, already regretting this conversation. “Big D’s Devilishly Deviant Dress-Up Dance.”

“That sounds like the world’s worst prom theme.”

“You’re not that far off.”

“So, skip it. Call in sick or whatever.”

“You really don’t have a sense of the hierarchies in place, do you?” I bite out.

“You could have just said it was mandatory. You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m trying to teach you how things will be for you in the eternal hereafter. And now, on top of that, we have to get you a dress.”

A slow, devious smile spreads across her face. “Oh! No worries on that. If it’s a ball, I have a dress.”

“You what?”

“I have a dress.”

ButNottheShoes

“You have a dress?” Kane parrots, turning our conversation into a low-rent Abbott and Costello routine.

I try to jump off the carousel before he starts asking me,Who’s on first?

I blink at him. “Yes, Kane, believe it or not, I do own a dress.”

“Right,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “A dress that would suit a ball in the OtherWorld? Or anywhere for that matter.” He mutters the last part, but I hear it. “And where is this dress?”

“It’s in the attic,” I say, not quite meeting Kane’s eyes as I gesture upward. “You know, that room three floors up from here, with the creaky stairs, cobwebs, and window leading to the roof.” I toy with the hem of the shirt I’m wearing, suddenly feeling too small inside my own skin.

“I know what an attic is, Rue. I’ve been inside a multilevel home before.” His lips twitch as he stares down at me. “And I’m very aware of where your attic leads. Believe me, it’s not something I’ll soon forget.”

“Oh,” I answer meekly, not sure exactly what to make of his response.