One old woman languished in a wheelchair beneath a threadbare blanket, and several feverish children shivered in their mothers arms. Men in work clothes pressed crusted gauze bandages to wounds seeping blood, or ice packs to purple lumps on their heads. At the far end of the room near the triage desk, a teenager moaned and clutched one arm to her chest as her mother thumbed through an old tabloid, blatantly ignoring her.
Every few minutes, employees in scrubs entered through one end of the room, crossed the faded, dingy vinyl tile, and pushed through a set of double doors on the other end. Those alone read from charts or stared straight ahead, while those in pairs broke the grim near-silence with incongruous snatches of casual conversation. Regardless, the employees went out of their way to avoid eye contact with the people waiting, while the patients eyed them in hope so transparent it was uncomfortable for me to watch.
Do you see him? I whispered to Nash, skipping over the sick women and children to scan the faces of the men.
No, and we wont until hes ready to be seen.
I stuffed my hands in my pockets, physically resisting the urge to take his hand for comfort, just because the ER creeped me out. If I couldnt handle the huddled masses staring into space like zombies, how could I hope to face the Grim Reaper? Or even a grim reaper? So how are we supposed to find him?
The plan was for him to find us, he whispered back. Two bean sidhes walking around while hes trying to work should have drawn him out pretty quickly, if for no other reason than to run us off.
Then Im guessing hes decided not to show.
Looks that way. Nashs gaze settled on a sign on the wall, which pointed the way to the gift shop, the cafeteria, and the radiology lab. You thirsty?
Not really. Id polished off a thirty-two-ounce soda in the car, and would have to find a bathroom soon as it was.
Then come sit with me. If we make it clear we have all night to wait, hell probably show up to hurry us along.
But we dont have all
Shh. Smiling, he slid one arm around my waist and whispered into my ear. Dont tip our hand. Pleasant chills rushed down my neck and throughout my body, originating where his breath brushed my earlobe.
We followed the signs down the hall, around the corner, and into the cafeteria, which was still serving dinner at seven-thirty in the evening. Nash bought a huge slice of chocolate cake and a school-size carton of milk. I got a Coke. Then we chose a small square table in one corner of the nearly empty room.
Nash sat with his back to the wall, eating as if nothing were wrong. As if he went looking for an agent of death every evening. But I couldnt sit still. My gaze roamed the room, skimming over a custodian emptying a trash can and a woman in a hairnet inspecting the salad bar for wilted lettuce. My feet bounced on the floor, my knees hitting the underside of the table over and over. Nashs milk sloshed with each impact, but he didnt seem to notice.
He was halfway through his cakeminus the bite or two Id found room forwhen a shadow fell across our table. I looked up to find a young man standing in front of the empty chair on my right. He wore faded, baggy jeans and a short-sleeved white tee with no sign of a coat, in spite of the temperature outside. And his fierce expression did nothing to harden cherubic lips and bright blue eyes, crowned by a mop of blond curls.
Nash didnt even look up.
I glanced at the blond guy, then followed his gaze to the disposable salt-and-pepper shakers in the center of the table. Assuming he wanted to borrow them, I was reaching for the salt when he pulled the empty chair out and dropped into it, crossing bare forearms on the table in front of him.
Nash didnt even look up.
I glanced at the blond guy, then followed his gaze to the disposable salt-and-pepper shakers in the center of the table. Assuming he wanted to borrow them, I was reaching for the salt when he pulled the empty chair out and dropped into it, crossing bare forearms on the table in front of him.
What do you want? he growled in a pitch so low and gravelly I would have sworn it could never have come from such an angelic face.
Nash took his time chewing, then finally swallowed and pushed his plate back. Answers.
I frowned, gaping at the blond in disbelief. Youre the grim reaper?
Tod glanced at me for the first time, his frown practically etched into place. You were expecting someone older? Taller? Maybe kind of gaunt and skeletal? Contempt dripped from his words like acid, and his focus snapped back to Nash in annoyance. See? Thats the problem with the old title. I should start calling myself a collections agent or something like that.
Then theyd just make you wear a suit and tie, I said, amused by the mental image.
The corner of Nashs mouth twitched.
Whos the sidekick? Tod tossed his head my way, but his attentionand irritationremained focused on Nash.
We need to know about the exchange rate, Nash said, cutting me off before I could introduce myself.
Tods brows gathered low over shadowed blue eyes, and in the gleam from the fluorescent bulbs overhead, I noticed a short, pale goatee on the end of his strong, square chin. Do I look like the information desk to you?
You lookbored. A mischievous look spread over Nashs face as Tods scowl deepened, and I wondered what I was missing. The hospital not keeping you busy? Hey, I hear theres an opening at Colonial Manor. You liked it there, didnt you?
The nursing home? I asked, but neither of them even glanced at me; they were too busy glaring at each other. Why would a nursing home hire someone to kill its patients? For that matter, why would a hospital?
Nash chuckled and ran one hand through his head full of messy brown spikes, but Tods eyes flicked my way, and his jaw tightened. Does she come with a mute button?
He doesnt work for the hospital, Nash said, ignoring the reapers hopefully rhetorical question. He works in the hospital. And at this rate, hell be stuck here for the next century, at least. Right, Tod?
The reaper didnt answer, but I could hear his teeth grinding.
You know, if you keep bottling up your anger like that, youre not going to be anywhere a century from now, much less still working full-time. Wait, was I needling an agent of death? Probably not the best idea, Kaylee
Reapers dont age, Tod snapped at me, while still glaring at Nash. Its one of the fringe benefits.
Like us, right? I glanced at Nash just in time to see him flinch, and knew Id said something wrong. And when I looked at Tod again, I found him staring at me in surprise, an impish grin highlighting his angelic features like light from above.
Whered you find her?
We do age, Nash said, but the last word was clipped short, like hed almost said my name, then left it out at the last minute. And thats when I understood: he didnt want Tod to know who I was.
I was fine with that. The very idea of Death knowing my name made my skin crawl. Even if this particular Death was only one of many, and almost too pretty to look at.
We just age very slowly, Nash continued.
By then I was blushing furiously; Id just painted myself as a complete fool. What kind of idiot doesnt know the lifespan of her own species?
Nash hooked his foot around my ankle beneath the table, rubbing my leg in sympathy and comfort. I shot him a grateful smile and made myself meet Tods eyes boldly. The best way to even the playing field was to knock him down a peg. Why are you stuck here? I asked, hoping Id correctly assessed that as his sore spot.
Because hes a rookie. Nash smirked. And there isnt much opportunity for advancement in a line of work where the employees never die.
Youre a rookie? I looked at Tod again, and again his jaw bulged with irritation. How old are you? Id assumed, based on that ageless comment, that he was much older than he looked.
Hes seventeen, Nash said, his smirk still firmly in place.
I was seventeen when I started this job, the reaper snapped. But that was two years ago.
Youve been doing this for two years and youre still a rookie?
Tod looked insulted, and I wasnt sure whether to laugh or apologize. Yeah, well, my recruiter wasnt very concerned with truth in advertising. And your boyfriend here is right about the turnover rateits nonexistent. The senior reapers in this district are edging up on two hundred years old. If we hadnt lost one last year, Id still be sitting in the TV room at Colonial Manor, waiting for old men to keel over into their oatmeal.
Wait, how do you lose a reaper? I couldnt help but ask. Freak sickle accident? But no one else looked amused by my joke.
The less you know about reaper business, the better, Nash whispered, and Tod nodded arrogantly.
Oh. I held both hands up in defense and leaned back in my chair. Sorry. Soold men keeling into their oatmeal?
Tod shrugged. Yeah. But at least here I get the occasional gunshot victim or unexpected relapse. Lifes all about the surprises, right?
I guess. But surprises had kind of lost their novelty for me with the discovery that I wasnt human. Except for that whole fatal premonition thing. Id love to be caught off guard by death again, like normal people.
Well, not by my own death, of course.
Speaking of surprises Twisting the lid off my Coke, I glanced at Nash for a signal, and he nodded, telling me to continue. Evidently I wasnt imagining Tods willingness to talk to me, rather than to him. We need your help avoiding a really nasty one.
Tod made a show of glancing at his wrist, conspicuously absent of a watch. You two have already wasted my whole break. I have an aneurism on the fourth floor in ten minutes, and I cant be late. I hate the ones that linger.
This wont take long. I pinned him with my gaze, refusing to break contact once I saw him hesitate. Please.
The reaper sighed, running one hand through his mop of short curls. You have five minutes.
I breathed softly in relief. Until the reality of the situation sank in.
Had I just begged for an audience with Death?
CHAPTER 11
This is about the exchange rate? the reaper asked, drawing me out of my own head, where shock over the events of the past couple of hours was finally catching up with me.