“Luckily, that’s an easy bet to take,” I say. “They never leave the sea.”

  The bridge stands tall against the wall, offering a solitary entry and exit. Above us, the towering doors loom, massive and weighty. Yet, as we draw near, they gracefully swing open, as if moved by unseen forces. And for the first time in my existence as a Reaper, I see the garden in all of its colorful glory.

  Flowers of all sorts burst around me, pink and purple and vibrant shades of blue. The trees have leaves of green and pale yellow, and bark of both brown and black. Silver and green grass grows in equal amounts, and the sky burns blue and bright above us.

  I freeze, my eye sockets going wide as I take it all in. At my side, Angelica seems just as stunned by the sight.

  Wil explains, “Welcome to the garden of Reaper Chapel.”

  “Is this… Eden?” she asks innocently.

  Wil lets out a cat-like laugh. “Not even close! Come on, this way. I want to get this over with as soon as we can. Satania’s not going to be in a good mood.”

  “He’s right about that.” I force myself to start walking, even though all that I want is to stand there and absorb the colors around me. With each step, the flowers and grass around me wilts into crisp brown, the energy transferring into my bones.

  I can see the same thing happening beneath Angelica's heavy boots, and am pleased to know that she’s absorbing the life energy without needing to be taught first. It’s a lesson I wouldn’t even know how to teach. I have just always known it.

  Even though there’s no time to stand and marvel at the colors around me, my gaze can’t seem to stay still. It hits the ground, the blue ombre stones that bleed into the river. The flowers around me, shimmering in hues of pink and yellow and cream. And of course, always going back to Angelica, who is just as awed at my side.

  Beneath our boots, the river turns into a solid road, a dream-like transition that could not exist in any other world. Angelica gasps, stepping sideways.

  "This is absolutely incredible," exclaims Angelica, shaking her head in disbelief. "I could’ve never imagined such a remarkable place."

  “You get used to it,” Wil says with a mrow.

  Angelica shakes her head a second time, more fiercely. “How can you get used to something like this?”

  “You see other magic that’s more grand, and you realize that the Reaper Chapel is a bit of an outdated crock,” says Wil.

  I tell him, “I can see the colors,” and Wil pauses.

  His ears twitch. He turns away from me, saying nothing, and continues toward the grand cathedral at the center of the garden. The building rises from the ground, composed of unique towers and shapes that seemingly defy conventional connections. It is a harmonious fusion of architectural styles, encompassing the evolution and culmination of humanity's creative mastery.

  And for the first time, I can see the hues of the stained glass windows.

  “It’s magnificent,” I susurrate.

  Angelica's hand tightens its grip around mine, forging a connection neither of us intends to let go. The big front doors are sitting open. Inside, I’m met with dark wood in shades of rich mahogany, tawny, and ebony. The cushions on the pew seats are a brilliant shade of crimson, with golden threads woven through them.

  And at the front of the church, there sits Satania and Tiana, in their thrones of yew and bone.

  “Tiana,” Wil's voice carries warmth as he speaks the other Omen's name. Reluctantly, he adds "and Satania" at the end, his tone lacking enthusiasm.

  “It worked then,” says Satania, sounding like she can’t decide if this amuses her or irritates her. A mixture of both, most likely.

  “It worked,” I confirm.

  Tiana is the one who steps off of the platform and meets us. She rubs up against Angelica’s leg just once and then uses the broadness of her head to push Angelica toward the platform. “You, up there. Grim. Wil. Sit.”

  Wil hops onto one of the pews. I lower myself to a seat beside him. I’ve never seen the allocation of an Omen before, save for my own. And I don’t really remember that.

  Satania plucks a piece of yew from the throne where she sits and holds it out before her. As her fingers touch the soul stones, a mesmerizing glow emanates from them. The world around her trembles and contorts, unable to contain the vibrant hues within its limited boundaries. The kaleidoscope of colors yearn to overflow, surpassing the confines of mere lines.

  The scenes blur together, resembling a water-soaked painting. Angelica staggers. Purple light—the same color and hue as her eye lights—seeps from her bones. In a seamless blend, everything converges in mid-air, contorting and assuming the form of something remarkable.

  As it solidifies, the form reveals a small bird.

  The bird falls to the ground, disoriented. Angelica drops to her knees, scooping it up. “I know you,” she gasps. “You’re the bird that hit my window!”

  “Angelica, meet Mina,” says Tiana sweetly. “She will be your guide.”

  Mina fluffs up her feathers and looks around her, then prim as can be, says, “About time they gave me something to do. I was starting to think they had kept me alive just so they could figure out how to bore me to death.”

  “Mina, you will be working with Angelica from now on,” Tiana explains. “I hope you can learn to get along. The trust that is born between a Reaper and their Omen can be one of the most powerful forces in the world.”

  I think of Wil and smile as my phalanges stroke over the curve of his skull, smoothing back his soft black fur.

  Satania says, “You will have to perform a Reaping, to cement your status. I have already given the information on this to Mina. She will guide you.”

  I know that Satania is not kind. That she is going to be furious about having been undermined by Tiana on this.

  But I hope that whatever she is doing now, Angelica can face it and come out the other side. stronger for it. And I know I will be here waiting while she does.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Angelica

  My mother is about to die.

  I don’t realize this at first. I’m too caught up in the way the world has changed around me. The fact that I’m no longer flesh now, but bones and magic. The fact that the little bird who broke its neck on my window—the same bird that has hassled me since then—is the form that my Omen has taken on.

  It's astonishing that not even a day has passed and I'm already being tasked with the Collection of a soul.

  It’s a lot.

  And it’s Grim who points it out.

  We’ve been following Midge for almost an hour. He spots the shimmer of color first. “Oh.” The word comes out like a weight dropped onto a pane of glass. His hand curls around my shoulder. “Angelica.”

  And then I see her, too.

  My mother, looking at some flowers being sold on the side of the road from a cart. She’s thumbing through them, her hair pulled back away from her face; it’s strange, because the world isn’t color but it’s also not monochrome. It looks normal within a twenty-foot radius of wherever I stand. Then the colors get less saturated. Then they fade away and are replaced with shades of black and gray.

  My mother is far enough away from me that she should be monochrome as well, but instead, she contains the palest of colors. Like severely watered-down paint.

  “My mom?” I ask.

  Wil quips, “Satania’s not a kind person. I thought we had all covered that already.”

  Mina flies over to where my mother browses the flowers. She perches on the side of the cart.

  “Oh, my!” My mother turns to her. “Look at that!”

  The shopkeeper says, “It must like the smell of my flowers! You’ve got to buy them now, even the bird approves!”

  Mom laughs. “I guess you’re right.” She passes over the money for the flowers and then admits, “You know, I always do this. I think that the fresh-cut flowers are so pretty, and I never think to check for bees first. Would you shake out that bouquet, and make sure it’s free of them? I’ve got a terrible allergy.”

  “Of course.” The shopkeeper bee-proofs the bouquet and hands it back over.

  Mina flies back to me. “Could that be it?”

  Wil looks at her. “I’m not allowed to get involved in this. Grim, it’s best if we both leave. If she doesn’t follow the rules for her first Reaping, Satania will find a reason and a way to punish all of us.”

  “I don’t want to leave you to do this,” Grim says to me, ignoring Will entirely.

  I swallow around a lump in my throat and give him a watery smile. “I mean, you said it yourself. This is why most Reapers aren’t keen on remembering what happened when they were alive, right? You all probably have to do something like this.”

  Mina lands on my shoulder. Her tiny claws dig into the fabric of my robe. “She’s leaving. We have to follow her.”

  “I’m glad I remember,” I say stubbornly. “And I’ll see the both of you when this is all said and done.”

  With one last clinking kiss of teeth to teeth, I turn and begin to follow my mother. She doesn’t get far. Just as she gets near her car, a voice calls out, “Wait, wait!”

  My stomach twists into a knot. I know that voice. “Margie,” I hiss, turning to look.

  Mina turns her little beak to me. “Who?”

  “She’s a medium,” I say. “And she’s not my favorite. She harassed the hell out of me when I was a human, because she didn’t approve of my relationship with Grim.”

  Margie runs over to my mother, waving her arms overhead. “I am so sorry about your loss.”

  My mother sniffs, poking her nose up in the air. “Do I know you?”

  “I don’t think we ever had the pleasure of meeting,” says Margie. “But I was a close friend of hers.”

  “That liar,” I spit.

  Mina takes flight. She spins through the air around me, first, and then swoops around my mother once. She divebombs Margie, getting the older medium’s attention.

  “Oh my! That bird is back.” My mother steps over to the car, pulling open the door and hurrying inside. “I’m sorry.” There are tears in her eyes. “I can’t talk about my Angie right now. I have to go.”

  She drives off quickly. The only upside is that I know where she lives, which means I don’t have to take off right away. Instead, I can stalk across the parking lot toward Margie.

  “You!” shrieks Margie. She looks white as a sheet, as though all of the blood has drained right out of her face. She backs up so fast that she trips over the curb and lands on her ass.

  Mina lands on her chest and pecks her once—hard—on the nose.

  Margie shrieks and swipes at Mina, but the little bird is too fast, already having taken flight. I don’t know what she did wrong as a human, but I can’t shake the feeling that violence is part of what ended up turning her into an Omen.

  She’s quick to action.

  In this one instance, I don’t blame her.

  “You will leave my family alone.” My voice is loud and echoing like thunder. The magic possessed by Reapers is, in fact, innate; it comes without me even knowing it’s there. “And you will stay out of Reapers’ affairs!”

  Margie manages to scramble to her hands and knees, then up onto her feet. She takes off at a run, fast as she can, away from me. I don’t need to follow her to know she will listen; her fear ripples through me, turning the magic between my bones to static.

  Mina gives a cheerful chirp, settling on my shoulder once more. “Now that’s what I call having some fun! All right, Angelica. If every job we go on together is as interesting as this one, I think that you and I are going to make a great team!”

  “I wouldn’t call this interesting.” I shake my head.

  “Oh, I would!” Mina fluffs up her feathers. “Now you lead the way. I’ll let you know if I see anything changing.”

  The walk back to my mother’s house is a long one. I don’t know whether to be grateful or angry that my mother’s omens truly all do seem to revolve around bees. A bumble bee that Mina sees on the grass. A car parked with a sign on the side advertising a local honey business. And flowers everywhere I look.

  At least it will be a kinder death than some, right?

  It's a small source of solace, one that I cling to tightly. I don’t need to use the front door, though Mina does. She has to wait outside while I slide in through the walls and into the house. The kitchen window is open. The flowers sit on the back of the sill in a vase while my mother washes the dishes.

  I see the bee come in, and I can do nothing. I’ve come to understand that Destiny and Fate inevitably shape our paths. It is clear to me that I was destined to become a Reaper, and fulfilling this purpose has led me to be here, doing what I must.

  As the bee approaches, it inflicts its sting on my mother. In panic, she vehemently swats at it, yet her allergic reaction is undoubtedly one of the most severe I have ever witnessed. She stumbles backwards, hitting the floor. On her hands and knees, she scrambles to the purse in the living room, dumping it out.

  Her epi-pen isn’t inside.

  “No, no,” she moans, her throat already swelling shut and her face turning red and blotchy.

  I can’t watch this silently. I let my magic shimmer and push out, adapting my human form. I am, for the moment, my own previous flesh body.

  My mother lets out a croaking scream at the sight of me.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her, kneeling on the ground in front of her. “I know you’re scared.”

  She croaks and gasps, her throat closing up. She falls over, onto her side. Her eyes are wide as she reaches for me.

  “My Angie,” she gasps.

  “I’m right here.” I reach out and stroke my hands through her hair, sweeping them from her face. Tears burn at my eyes. “I’m right here, Mom. Don’t worry.”

  Her life force swiftly dissipates, as I effortlessly extract her soul. It manifests as a delicate, luminous orb nestled between my skeletal hands.

  My mother’s soul.

  Her essence.

  Holding this piece of her makes it feel like my heart—though no longer beating—thumps harder. The look on her face when I arrived for her, when I knelt before her and embraced her, was unlike any expression I had ever witnessed on her before.

  I suppose that it’s true what they say: sometimes, you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. My mother always wanted more for me. She always had expectations for me. But that didn’t mean she didn’t love me.

  In a way, it meant that she loved me so much, she thought I was limitless.

  And my mother—she got on my nerves… a lot. And there were times I absolutely hated being around her. But that didn’t change the fact that she was my mother. Being present as she took her last breaths has made me realize that deep down, it was the type of meaningful connection I had always longed for with her.

  That I have always wanted her to look at me, just like that. The love in her eyes, it was what you expect from a mother. And in her final moments, I got it.

  Did she see the same thing when I looked at her, I can’t help but wonder? Did she see me, with endless love for her, with forgiveness, acceptance, and sorrow that this had to be the way things ended? I hope so. And if not… I hope that in her next life, or in whatever life she gets beyond this one, that she is able to find someone from the start who looks at her that way.

  I tuck the orb into the sleeve of my robe for safe keeping, just as I’ve seen Grim do, and then head outside.

  Mina chirps, “How did it go?”

  “Where is the opening?” I counter. My voice is thick and heavy with emotion. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with myself, or how I’m supposed to handle this now. A final goodbye, I suppose. What happens when you deliver a soul to the Between?

  I hope that I don’t actually have to take it to the Collectors. The sight of them down on that twisted river had been profoundly disconcerting, ranking among the most unnerving experiences one could encounter.

  Mina flutters about me. I’m expecting condolences from her, but I don’t get that. Instead, the bird takes off, leading me through the street and to the park. The whole time we travel, she says nothing.

  I suppose I shouldn’t expect too much from her. This is her first partnership, and I know from Wil that Omens are often not the kindest, most self-aware, most caring people when they have their mortal forms.

  Just like violence has been her first response to Margie, it seems that silence and pretending to ignore that anything might be wrong is her response to this.

  It’s expected, but it still hurts.

  When we get to the park, Mina says, “I don’t understand why there are places like this out here. You can’t tell me that people actually use the lake for anything.”

  I ignore her out-of-touch remark, more focused on the fact that Grim is waiting for me there. He shoos Mina over to where Wil is waiting, some feet away, and then pulls me in for a hug. “That must have been hard.”

  “It was.” My words crack at the center, my voice thick with grief. The sight of my mother taking her final breaths—the sound she made—will haunt me forever.

  Something most Reapers are never able to get—a final goodbye with their loved one. Most of them have fully forgotten it. In that manner, I suppose I’m lucky. I gave her the comfort of seeing her daughter one last time. That has to count for something.

  I suppose it has to count for everything, considering that there aren’t any other somethings to have.

  Or… there’s one other something.

  I tell Grim, “I have her soul. But… At the end, she saw me. I know that she loved me, even if she didn’t know how to show it.”

  There’s still Grim.

  There has always been Grim.

  He reaches out to me, flashing into his human form, and I do the same in return. “I think you’re impossible not to love.” He brushes the hair away from my face and presses a kiss to my flesh—my lips. “You are…special.”

  And there is the love between us, stronger than anything else in my new world.