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twenty-seven

Grim

H ow many times would I cave to the whimsical and beautiful creature before me? How many more times would I fall helplessly for the woman I could never have? If I had any integrity, I would tell her the truth.

All good things must come to an end. Yet with each day spent in her presence, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to let go.

A century ago, I’d made the choice, knowing full well that the future me would struggle to forget it all.

But what of the balance? It was easier if she hated me, easier to believe she was better off without me.

But I couldn’t deny that it was hard—hard to stay away.

One look at her across the dinner table, and my world tilted off its axis.

I had no qualms about who I was, the shadows I cast, or the eerie lore surrounding my existence.

Someone had to reap the fallen and guide them to the next world.

But Astoria… Astoria had a way of shattering the beliefs I’d spent a lifetime constructing.

It was maddening.

I was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

“Why Iceland?” she asked, breaking the silence. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and my eyes caught the glimmer of a necklace—silver chain glinting in the soft light.

“It’s quiet,” I replied, my voice steady, though I felt everything within me stir. “Not many pass on here. Not like other places.”

One hundred and seven humans die per minute, six thousand three hundred ninety per hour, and one hundred fifty-three thousand per day.

I watched Fate take such joy in her solitude that I thought it might be nice to have my own space.

A place to escape the endless parade of souls. Not that I had time for such idleness.

I had no time to squander, yet I found myself sitting at the table across from her anyways.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the simple chain around her neck, wondering if I could get her to laugh just enough to reveal the charm hidden behind the neckline of her shirt.

“Does loud bother you?”

“It’s not the volume,” I said, taking another bite of food that had no taste. “Souls have a way of finding me if I don’t find them first. And sometimes, it can be…”

My breath caught as the memory of how torn I’d let myself become a few days ago clawed its way back.

“A lot?” she finished, her voice light, but her eyes sharp as she waved her fork, pulling me back into the moment. “Is that what happened the other night?”

I shoveled another bite of roasted carrots into my mouth, trying not to think about it, wondering if she’d always worn that necklace and I’d never noticed before. But that couldn’t be. I noticed everything.

“Grim!” she barked, her laugh vibrant and alive. “What happened the other night?” She was on her second glass of wine; I’d kept track because she hardly drank, and I wanted to be sure she stayed sharp. Not that the damned curse would let her fall easily.

“When I linger too long, away…” I pushed my plate aside, reaching for my own glass, avoiding her eyes for a moment. “They grow restless. And there’s not much I can do to keep them at bay. I went too long ignoring my duty.”

A pained expression crossed her face, her nose pinching slightly. “Because of me?”

I didn’t answer immediately. Of course, it had been because of her. But the price I paid was one I’d bear over and over again, until my skin burned and my blood pooled.

“The house is warded to keep them out. The fence is the line that separates them,” I continued, my voice quiet as I took another sip of wine, the lack of taste grounding me.

“Though none have ever found me here.” I paused, the weight of everything lingering between us.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for calling Day. ”

“I didn’t know what to do,” Astoria murmured, as she swirled the wine in her glass before finishing it off in a single, unsteady gulp. Her gaze avoided mine for a moment, her fingers tapping nervously against the stem of the glass. “I thought you would…”

“Die?” I tried to laugh, but it came out too harsh, too bitter. “Death can’t die, Star.” The words barely left my mouth before I wished I could take them back. The truth hung between us. I couldn’t pretend anymore.

I searched my memory, tracing back through every encounter, every glance. "It was a taunt, at first,” I admitted. “You were stubborn, bright, impossible to ignore. I didn’t know what to make of you.” I met her eyes. “But now… now I think it’s because that’s what you represent to me.”

“A star?”

“Not just a star. The star. The one thing bright enough to make even Death look up.”

Her cheeks turned a soft pink, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

The way the blush spread across her skin, the way she nervously tucked her hair behind her ear—it made something in me ache.

She was still so unaware of how much of her she gave away, how much of herself she handed to me without even knowing.

As she leaned forward to reach for the bottle of wine, the chain around her neck slipped out from beneath her shirt. The small silver charm caught the dim light of the room. My breath caught in my throat.

“Grim?” she asked, noticing my gaze on her. She tugged the necklace back under her shirt hastily, but it wasn’t fast enough.

“You kept it,” I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. I almost regretted it as soon as they left my lips, but there was no going back now. “I thought you’d thrown it away.”

She paused for a long moment, then finally met my eyes. The tension between us shifted. Her smile was small, bittersweet. “I made it through a few more birthdays. But…” Her voice wavered slightly. “It seems you’ll get your wish after all.”

I should’ve just stayed silent, should’ve let the conversation slip back into the quiet that surrounded us. But something about her vulnerability, the way she always tried to shield her heart from me, drove me to push further, to make her feel something.

I reached for her arm, my fingers brushing against her skin as I gently turned her to face me.

Her hands trembled, the glass of wine wobbling dangerously, as though she was uncertain of what to do next.

“You kept it,” I repeated, my voice more raw than I intended.

The words hung in the air, and I couldn’t stop myself from severing the connection. “You want to get out of here?”

Her brow furrowed, eyes widening with surprise. I could see her hesitating, then that spark of mischief flared. “You’re not gonna faint on me, are you?” she joked, but it was a little too serious for a joke. She was still worried. I could feel it.

“No promises,” I shot back, grinning.

Her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile. And then, just like that, she stood up with a shrug that said, what the hell, why not?

Her lips were pursed, and not in the sexy way. More like the ‘ I don’t know about this’ kind of way. Was it cliché to take her to the top of the Eiffel Tower?

Probably.

The city was alive with lights, the hum of Parisian romance hanging in the air.

She looked as if she meant to say something, but one thing I’d learned about Astoria was that when she wasn’t in defense mode, she was too sweet, too gentle. She didn’t care to hurt others feelings, even mine.

“You can say it,” I laughed, cocking my head, a crooked smile tugging at my lips.

“Say what?” She gave a sheepish laugh, glancing away toward the shimmering lights.

“That this is ridiculous…”

“I mean… you said it. Not me.”

Running a hand over my jaw, I thought about what might actually impress this woman.

She’d seen all of France before. The necklace she wore was gifted to her just a few kilometers away at the Musee D’Orsay.

She’d seen Venice, walked the Great Wall.

The one thing she’d done well over her century of life was travel—never sticking to one place long enough. Suddenly, it occurred to me.

“Come on,” I said, lacing my fingers through hers and pulling her to my side.

The world snapped. A flash of sensation, the tug of time and space rearranging itself around us, and then the Eiffel Tower disappeared as mist. When the world reformed, we stood on a worn cobblestone sidewalk in front of a weathered little ice cream shop that had somehow survived the centuries.

Astoria stumbled slightly, blinking up at the peeling pastel paint on the swinging sign that read Milly’s Sweet Creamery . The salty tang of the ocean hit us, the faint sound of waves rolling in over the rocky shore.

It took her a moment to collect herself, and I held out my handkerchief in case she vomited again.

When she finally stood on two sturdy legs, she froze—staring first at the shop, then the narrow street, and finally the coastline just down the hill.

"This is..."

"Home," I finished softly.

Wickford, Rhode Isalnd. A sleepy coastal town that had somehow resisted being swallowed whole by modern life. The place she had grown up, where she’d laughed and danced and dreamed before everything changed.

She turned to me, her eyes wide, shining under the street lamps. "How did you—?"

I shrugged like it was nothing. As if it hadn’t traced her steps back through time to find the place she had loved most.

For a moment, she looked as if she might cry. Instead, she let out a shaky laugh and threw herself into motion, tugging my hand. "Come on," she said. "I want to see if it’s still the same."

We wandered past crooked houses with salt-stained siding, the old library she used to sneak into after dark, and the crumbling stone wall she once scraped her knees climbing over.

She pointed out everything, her voice thick with memory and laughter.

The town wasn’t frozen in time. Modernity had crept in, akin to ivy on a house, but enough was left that it still revealed the ghosts of her childhood.

Although, the small cottage she’d been born in was now gone, replaced with a park.

But we found what she searched for, all the same.