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thirty-three

Grim

I knew the second she touched my memories, her fingers rooting their way into my mind.

Yet I waited.

Long enough for her to discover the truth, but not long enough that she’d disappear without ever speaking to me again. She was right to hate me. The bitterness she spewed was without fault. I hated me too, but Death was honest.

But damn it, she’s made the same as I am.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Her light contrasted my darkness, balancing us out until we stood as equal as the sun and moon.

Yet, our symmetry would do little to persuade her to forgive me.

I killed her husband, for fucks sake—although the bastard deserved it.

How was I to know that she’d have been able to send souls on?

I should have known. Perhaps it’s true what they say, that anger blinds.

The house had fallen still, too still. As if it were holding its breath.

Dust motes hovered like spirits in the air, suspended in golden shafts of fading light.

Outside, the storm that had rolled in from the east let loose a low, distant growl.

Rain tapped against the glass in rhythmic, mocking sympathy.

I found her on the floor of our bathroom, her body crumpled and pitifully tucked into the corner, like a skittish cat.

The scene made me frown. Astoria spoke not a single word, a steady stream of gentle tears tracking down her cheeks as I lifted her from the floor and carried her to the bed.

Setting her down, I backed up, walking myself toward the far corner to give her space.

She would leave, that I was certain of, but I was grateful she at least gave me this.

I waited patiently, wondering if she would hold out until I spoke the first word. Eventually, her perfect lips parted and all that was whispered were my own words, spoken back to me.

“Death, what have you done?”

It was akin to being stabbed with your own knife. Wildly uncomfortable.

“I had to, Star.”

She jerked back, her eyes flicking up to me. “Don’t call me that.”

It wounded me, but I expected it, deserved it even. And eventually she would see that I did this for her . Everything was for her . I’d lost my own heart along the way, the one I’d grown just for her, but that was the cost of such love.

She was worth it.

“How could you?” she demanded, a bit more fire behind her bite.

“You know that I did not have a choice.”

“We always have a choice!”

Thunder cracked overhead, a boom so loud it rattled the windows and trembled through the floorboards beneath us. I didn’t flinch. Neither did she. Whether she liked to believe it or not, there was a balance we all must live by.

“You cannot give life to the dead without giving something in its place. It is not the way. I warned you, I tried to explain to you, but you did not listen.”

“You will not make me believe that I am the cause of such chaos!”

She was wildly beautiful, far more beautiful than anything Death deserved. Her eyes shimmered with fury and pain, green like moss on gravestones, vibrant even now.

“Do you understand the guilt that I have carried?”

I winced, attempting a step closer even as she retreated, the tears now heavy. My own eyes began to sting. I hadn’t considered how hard this part would actually be, and how much I would hate myself for hurting her, but I knew what I’d sacrificed when I made the choice back then.

Seeing her and Bea on the muddy cold street.

“I did not see another way,” I admitted with defeat. Suddenly, it all washed over me, what I had gained to lose. It was the greatest tragedy known to man. Perhaps stories would be written about it one day.

Death’s bitter heartache.

He’d been given the one thing he desired most: love. And even then, fate mocked him. For it was not destined to be, not when she’d be unhappy. Not when she deserved more; everything she had not been given.

The sky outside darkened, clouds swallowing the last of the sun. A flicker of lightning cast shadows across her face. She looked otherworldly, with the ethereal beauty of a ghost still clinging to her body out of spite.

I studied her, committing her features to memory.

The soft swell of her lips, her rose-tinted cheeks.

Even her eyes, as glassy and red-rimmed as they were, put the largest emerald to shame.

Her skin could have rivaled the pallid shade of mine, but there was life there, crawling through her veins. Blood. Humanity.

She strode for the door, her head held high, and the tears now dry—just as her love.

“I loved you, for you , not for what you are.” She paused, her hand on the door as her emerald eyes pierced mine for the very last time. “I cannot forgive your deceit, nor the guilt I’ve carried believing myself to be the villain. That has always been you, Grim.”

My breath was caught, stuck as a lump in my throat. My battered heart bleeding on the floor between us.

“Today, I choose me. I will break the curse, not for you, not for anyone… but me. If our souls are threads, each one measured and exact. You’ve cut every one I tried to weave back together.”

The fire in her gaze was the last bit of warmth I’d ever feel. Rage built inside me, not at her. Never at her. At myself, for ruining the one thing that ever mattered.

She lingered there, her body leaning against the door for support. Walking slowly toward her, I held my arms out. A truce. Just for a moment. One final moment of peace.

I took a deep breath, committing her to memory as she let me wrap my arms around her. Her heartbeat echoed against mine, steady, brave, defiant…

Holding tight, I kissed her temple. Feather light, barely there.

“I am cutting myself free of you now. I won’t bleed myself dry, trying to heal what was never mine to mend.”

“I love you, Astoria. What I have done, I have done with what Death could ever know of love,” I whispered on one agonized breath.

With a step back, I wiped the tears from my eyes as she left.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the storm broke open.

A surge of wind howled through the manor with a scream.

It was as if the world itself grieved with me.

It wasn’t until I felt Day’s presence come, and then quickly go, that I finally broke down.

I slumped to the ground, catching myself against the wall.

The cold stone didn’t hurt nearly enough.

I couldn’t help but envy the dead, because at least they could be buried and laid to rest. I’d have to live with this hollowness in my chest for the rest of eternity.

But I’d wear it like a badge of honor.

Because that was the least I could do for the girl brave enough to fall in love with Death.