“Now imagine it on a greater scale. The grief that the living will feel after so many die of seemingly unknown causes,” I continue. “No car accidents to blame, no sickness. They’ve just dropped dead all through the city, en masse. That’s going to cause an issue for the humans that are still alive. It’s going to leave them scared, worried. Make them sad.”

  Finally, Angelica is starting to look a little less frightened. The color has come back to her cheeks, and she no longer seems as unsteady on her feet. The fear has started to fade from her eyes, replaced with a fierce fire.

  She huffs, planting one hand on her hip and curling the other in the front of my robes. “This isn’t going to happen again, Grim. You hear me?”

  I look away from her, unable to meet that burning gaze.

  Angelica remains resolute, unfazed by any obstacles in her path. “You will resume doing your job, and you’re going to start today. Or the next time a soul comes up. And I’m going to talk to Wil. If you don’t Collect like you’re supposed to, then he’s going to let me know, and then you’re going to have to deal with me being pissed off.”

  “I think you would look pretty pissed off.” I try to lighten the mood.

  It doesn’t work. Angelica’s brows furrow and she says, firmly, “You aren’t going to like me once I lose my temper, Grim. I need you to know that. I don’t want to lose you, and that means I don’t want to lose you to Satania.”

  “There’s nothing that she could do to make me stop coming and seeing you.” With one hands, I run my phalanges over the curve of her cheek, brushing the tips of the bones to her skin.

  Angelica leans in to the touch, her gaze fluttering for a moment. “I don’t want to have to find out if that’s true or not.”

  “It is true,” I reassure her. “I would cross through fire to get back to you, Angelica. And I won’t cave to Satania’s demands and stop seeing you for no reason.”

  “I don’t want to cave to external pressure either,” says Angelica, pulling away. She shakes her head, tucking her hair behind one ear. “But we’re going to have to do that if something like this happens again. I could feel… I could feel how much anger she had in her. That woman…”

  Angelica trails off and shudders, seemingly still physically affected by the emotional presence of Satania.

  “There was something about her, Grim. An unrelenting anger.” Angelic goes on. “If you don’t start doing your job correctly, I’m worried that she’s going to end up doing something even more extreme than this was.”

  I promise her, “I won’t let that happen.” And then, “Let me walk you home, Angelica. You need to rest after all this, and I don’t want you going through the city on your own right now. Not until Wil figures out the state of the humans that have remained.”

  Angelica relents easily enough. She lets me tangle our hands together, and lead the way through the city, back toward her apartment building. Nothing seems out of sorts, and yet everything seems wrong. There’s a heaviness in the air.

  I’m no medium, but the shift in emotions is enough even for me to understand and sense. We pass an ambulance that is rushing down the street, alarms blaring, but there are no other cars out and about. It’s obvious that this has caused an issue, and the sort that won’t be easy to figure out.

  We go into the apartment building together. I don’t want there to be any residual issues waiting for her, and a part of me is concerned that Satania might be planning on making a house call.

  Determined not to let that happen, we go up together. I even phase through the door of the apartment building so that I can get inside first, just to make sure that there are no other Reapers waiting for her.

  There aren’t.

  The TV is on, though.

  “I ran out without turning it off,” she says as she steps into the apartment with me. The news is showing an overhead helicopter view of the city. Parked cars sit in the middle of the road. People are gathered, standing quietly around their fallen friends and family members.

  The newscaster, Emily Banks, looks somber, her voice thick when she speaks, making the report sound heavy and grave.

  “Presently, there are not enough ambulances to collect everyone at once,” says Emily. “And we can expect first responders to be working overtime. There’s no word yet whether they believe this is a strange natural cause, or a terrorist attack, but we’ll be sure to keep you up to date on it.”

  Angelica picks up the remote and turns it off. She leans against my side, saying nothing.

  The silence that settles around us says plenty enough for the both of us.

  Chapter Five

  Angelica

  Over the next week, I find myself spending a lot of time thinking.

  There are no new orders at my studio. I’m not surprised. The city has dubbed Satania’s Reaping a Day of Mass Despair. The city has gone into a state of mourning, and all non-important outdoor events have been canceled as the various departments try to figure out what the hell might have happened.

  Everyone’s hearts just stopped.

  They thought, at first, terrorist actions might have been involved—but that was quickly disproven. Then they thought it might be a disease of some sort that triggers heart failure, so now the CDC has been brought in on this.

  And through it all, my mind is settled, not on the reason of the deaths, but on the cause of that reason. The only upside is that Grim has returned to work.

  He’s going to pick me up this evening, to take me with him on a soul stakeout—my own term, not his.

  As though my thoughts have summoned him, I can feel the warmth that signals Grim’s approach. I head to the balcony, opening it up and watching as Wil runs down the street. My arms drape over the railing as I call down to him, “Good afternoon!”

  Wil trips over his paws, skids to a stop, and scowls up at me. His golden eyes narrow and his ears pin back flat against his skull. His tail lashes through the air. “Don’t make me come up there and get you, then.”

  “I’ll be right down,” I promise, turning and heading back inside. It’s warm enough out that I don’t need to worry about a jacket; the black high-front skirt and purple corset tank I’m wearing is plenty enough.

  Grim has joined the Omen by the time that I get down there. He’s just as handsome as ever. My mouth splits into a grin at the sight of him and I hurry over to give him a hug; it’s well received, strong, bony arms wrapping tightly around me.

  “Break it up, love birds,” says Wil, with a lash of his tail. “I don’t want to be out here all night. Let’s get a move on.”

  “I’m going to do my job.” Grim sounds irritated. “I’ve done it all week. You don’t need to try and act like this is my first time preparing for a Reaping.”

  Wil just snorts and starts walking. “You act like it is.”

  “What was your first time like?” I question, seeing the chance to bring something important up. All week, I’ve been rolling things around in my head, trying to come up with a good way to solve the problems we’re faced with.

  They’ve been circling back around to the same answer each time.

  Grim says, “I don’t remember much of it. It was a long time ago. And my memories are hazy.”

  Wil explains, “All Reapers have a hard time remembering their first few Collections. Their brains are still getting sorted out, being alive again. Dead but alive. Whatever you want to call it. It leaves them addled.”

  “But it sorts itself eventually?”

  “Eventually,” agrees Grim. “Why are you asking?”

  “I was just thinking about a few things. About how our relationship is an issue just because I’m a human, and you’re a Reaper,” I say, trying to find a way to bring it up that won’t just totally send Grim into a tizzy. I know it’s a lot, and a long shot, but we’re running out of options.

  Grim’s sharp blue eye lights slide toward me. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to say something I’m not going to like?”

  “Because I am.” The words are chased down by a nervous sort of laugh. “I was thinking, maybe we should change that.”

  “Change what?” Grim stops walking and turns to look at me.

  “Change the fact I’m a human. What if I became a Reaper, too? If it’s only a few Collections that you’re addled through, it should—”

  “No.” Grim spins on one boot and starts walking again.

  Wil looks up at me with wide golden eyes. “You’re nuttier than I thought you were.”

  “I’m not nutty,” I hurry to follow Grim. “And you can’t just dismiss it like that. It’s a valid idea, Grim. Satania wouldn’t care if we were together if I weren’t a mortal. We both know it.”

  “She’s right,” offers Wil, idly.

  Grim shoots the Omen a sour look. “Your help isn’t needed with this, cat.”

  “I think you always need my help,” counters Wil, sounding smug and ignoring the jab.

  I ignore their back-and-forth, catching hold of Grim’s wrist. Once I have hold of it and he’s turned to face me, I tell him, “Grim, I’m not going to risk losing you. And I’m not going to risk you getting in trouble again, or humans suffering because of it. I really think that this is something that we ought to consider.”

  Grim jerks his hand away from mine. “It’s not.”

  “Why?” I challenge.

  Grim’s brow bones pinch down. “What do you mean why? I just told you—”

  “You don’t get to bark an order and expect me to listen to it, Mister Reaper.” I cluck my tongue and plant one hand on my hip. “I would have thought that you would have known that by now.”

  Grim’s scowl manages to deepen. His eye lights flare and then go dim, redirecting elsewhere, like he can’t bear to look me in the face any longer. “It’s more complicated than you think, Angelica.”

  “What’s so complicated about it?” My proverbial hackles raise further. “Tell me why it’s a bad idea. Maybe I’ll drop it then.”

  “We both know that’s a lie,” grumbles Grim.

  I just grin at him. “Either agree with me, or give me a good reason why it’s a bad idea.”

  “It’s not just a bad idea.” Grim’s shoulders sag. “It’s a terrible one.”

  The grin falls from my face. “That’s not an explanation. And if you want me to drop it—”

  “You could just drop it,” he interrupts me

  Wil snorts. “I’m not the one dating her and even I know that she’s not going to drop it.” The black cat jumps onto the trunk of a parked car. “Just tell her, so we can get back to our job.”

  Grim shoots the Omen a withering look, but then sighs. He stops walking and scrubs a hand over his skull, the scrape of bone on bone loud in the otherwise silent evening. “Becoming a Reaper isn’t easy, Angelica. You have to die for it.”

  “I know that already.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not stupid, Grim. I know you aren’t living. But you’ve shown me that death is often not actually the end. And for us, it could be the start of something better. Where we don’t have to try and hide from your boss, or worry about how it’s going to affect your work, or—anything like that.”

  I can hear the way that his teeth grind together, jaw clicking. His eye lights flare for a moment, bright in the dark voids of his socket, and then go dim again. He shakes his head. “Death isn’t always the end. But I wouldn’t know how to sway Fate to turn you into a Reaper.”

  “Tell her the rest of it,” pushes Wil. “She’s not going to stop prying.”

  “Wil!”

  But Wil is looking at me with those golden eyes of his, sharp and straight. There’s a challenge in them. He knows something. He always knows something.

  The thing about Omens, I’ve come to learn, is that they were born to know things that the rest of the world will never have any way of knowing. They were created to understand that nothing else could shift, nothing else could expand, without their awareness.

  Even of the things that cannot be controlled—they can still see the signs.

  Wil stands up, jumping onto the roof of the car instead of the trunk. I briefly abandon Grim to walk over to him, placing a hand on the sun-warmed metal of the car door and peering up at him. “Are you going to tell me the rest of it?”

  Grim makes an unhappy snort behind me.

  Wil flicks one ear, looking between the both of us. Then he says, “You’ve never heard Grim talk about his time alive for a reason, mortal. Just because I can remember being a prince, that doesn’t mean everyone gets to keep their memories.”

  I look over my shoulder at the Reaper, brows furrowing. “Is that true, Grim? Do you…not even remember being a human?”

  The frustration visibly builds up on his face, a scowl curling over his features. But he says, “No, I don’t. Not much of it. Not—not any of who I was. I told you that being a Reaper, it’s not as easy as you’re thinking, Angelica. The work, that’s just one part of it.”

  “Death is a new beginning,” Wil chimes in. “But it’s also an ending. And for some, it’s a continuation. But Reapers—they don’t continue. They start over. A clean break of the bone.” He stretches, back arching, and jumps onto the hood of the car. The tip of his tail flicks. “You know where her house is, Grim. I expect you to meet me there before midnight.”

  The cat jumps off of the hood and starts down the sidewalk, toward the mark’s house. I take advantage of the brief moment with Grim alone and spin around. Just as I thought he might, the Reaper is making to follow after Wil, as though he thinks that could spare him from the rest of this conversation.

  Before he can get more than a few steps, I grab him by the wrist and pull him to a stop.

  “That’s not happening,” I tell him, hotly. “You just had the Head Reaper in my city, because being with me is causing so much friction.”

  “That wasn’t about you,” he tries to protest.

  “It was, and we both know it,” I snap, tightening my grip so he can’t slip off. “And we’re talking about this. If I was a Reaper, I could be helping you with work, instead of making you avoid it. And the head reaper, she wouldn’t care that we would be together, either.”

  “We wouldn’t be together,” says Grim. “Don’t you get it, Angelica? If you lose your memories, then you’ll lose your memory of this. You won’t know yourself, and you won’t know me.”

  “I’ll always know you,” I tell him, certain of that fact in the same way that I’m certain I’m alive right now. “I’ll always know you, Grim. It doesn’t matter what’s happening elsewhere, it doesn’t matter what other people have done.”

  Grim shakes his head. “It’s a sweet thought, but you won’t. It will take decades for you to even begin to know what human emotion feels like again. When you become a Reaper, your humanity is snubbed out, so there is nothing but a coal left. And while that coal will start a spark eventually, it will be a long, slow process. You won’t know joy. You won’t know sorrow, nor love, nor hate. And you won’t know me.”

  I frown at him, his words leaving me uneasy.

  “And…” Grim trails off.

  “And?” I insist.

  Grim is silent for a moment, then he lifts up one hand and brushes it over the side of my face. “And you won’t know color.”

  “What do you mean?” I question.

  “The world is dark for a Reaper.” He turns, and this time I let him pull away from me. He only goes a step or two, and then he gestures broadly at the city around us. It’s dark and still. The buildings are mostly red brick of various shades. “Gray. Monochromatic.”

  I frown. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” admits Grim. “I’m not sure any of us knows. Satania doesn’t share her secrets with the rest of the world?” And then, without waiting for further prodding, he explains, “The souls we Collect give off faint hues. Just enough that we never forget. And you…”

  “Me?”

  “You give off the brightest colors I have ever seen.” Grim turns to me, tilting his head to the side. “I thought that it might have been because you were a medium, at first, but none of the others give off these hues. Then, I thought it might be that you avoided death. But I remember you looked like this even when I was following you as a mark.”

  I look down at myself, trying to picture it through his eyes. Would my clothes still be as bright? Would my hair still be as glossy? And how much more would someone like me stand out, when the rest of the world was done up in shades of gray and white and black?

  “Eventually, I realized that it was just…something about you, on an individual level,” says Grim. “You are beautiful, Angelica. Bright in ways that I forgot could exist. Smart. Lovely. Kind and sweet.”

  My cheeks feel hot. “Stop trying to sway me into listening with flattery.”

  “I haven’t even started to flatter you yet,” says Grim, stepping forward. He plants his hands on my hips and tugs me closer. The air between us feels as though it’s charged with electricity. “That’s coming, though.”

  “It won’t.” I lean up and press a chaste kiss to the flats of his teeth. “Because all of that might be true, but I’m still not convinced that this isn’t the best way to go about things.”

  With a frustrated groan, Grim drops his arms from me and pulls away. He heads down the pavement, in the direction that Wil went. I don’t let him get more than three steps ahead of me.

  “I’m being serious. There must be a way to ensure that I’ll keep my memories, even when I change into a Reaper,” I say. “There has to be.”

  Grim shakes his head. “I’ve never met a Reaper that remembered their past.”

  I worry at my lower lip, catching the purple-painted flesh between my front teeth. It scrapes lines through the lipstick that I’m wearing, but there’s no one around to see it save Grim. “I bet that Satania remembers it.”

  “She would never tell me anything.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she wants you to return to work more than she hates the fact that we’re together. Maybe she would think my death would be a sort of punishment. Grim, I know that it won’t be enough to destroy our love,” I tell him, pressing a hand to my chest. “I can feel it. Our connection is stronger than anything else.” Sure, it’s cheesy. But it’s true.