Page 108 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter

This imitation is for tourists—sanitizing the truth of it all. It’s missing the smell of crowded bodies, the stink of sweat from laboring under an unforgiving sun, and the acrid scent of bitter desperation that marked each day.

Light flickers from within.

He’s here and it’s time.

“I don’t feel right leaving you alone.” Sebastian takes his hands from the steering wheel and wraps them around mine.

I turn to him, thankful for this man. “But I’m not alone.” I touch my heart with my free hand. “I have you here. I have all of them here. It’s time for me to finish this.”

I swallow and glance out the car window, pulse racing. Just because I know what to do doesn’t make it easy.

A new thought creeps into my mind: Death can be cruel. “But what if he takes away my life right then and there? What if he returns me to how I was?”

Even after all these years, I remember the pain that lies on the edge of death. I think about the spots, not being able to breathe, coughingup blood ... What if he returns me with mere minutes to live? It’s one thing to have thought my deal would come with death; it’s another thing to confront my agonizing mortality.

Sebastian grips my hand, his fingers dwarfing mine. “Then I will be with you until your final breath and carry you in my heart to the final one of mine.”

His words, his quiet confidence, his everything, is what I’ve been searching for through space and time. He reminds me of all the beauty I’ve seen that I’ve promised Death exists.

I kiss him.

I kiss him with all that I have in me. The kiss is sweet, full of every emotion we feel for each other and more.

I don’t want to break away, but I must.

It won’t do to keep Death waiting.

“It’s time,” I say, Sebastian’s forehead against mine.

He nods and lets me go. This is something I must do on my own.

I take a deep breath and slide out of the car.

It is time to face Death.

A Visit From Death

Death knew today was the end of everything.

He’d avoided it for as long as he could.

He sat at the rickety wooden table and stared into the glowing fire as it danced. He’d been there all day, preparing himself for what lay ahead. Pages and pages of her words—her previous lessons from throughout time—sat before him. He’d stored her work in a little house on an island where he’d collected a hermit nearly a century before. He would light a fire and read her work in the in-between moments. He’d brought it all here for what he knew would be their last meeting.

The portrait she’d had painted of him sat on the mantel, staring down imperiously.Is that how she sees me?

He remembered the times they’d met—how he had shown up to her, so sure in those early times that she would lose.

Now he sat there, certain he had finally won—that this would be their final meeting.

She had broken his rules. She had exposed the inner workings of their deal. Victory didn’t feel anything like he thought it would.

The door creaked open, and she was there. She took her time, studying him, the room, taking it all in.

He sat up straighter, revealing no emotion, though the space in his chest galloped. “You came.”

“Did I have a choice?” She sidled into the room, shutting the door behind her.

“I suppose you didn’t.” He gestured to the seat opposite him, studying her.