Becoming Death (6 page)

“I made him run until he couldn’t run anymore. He was out of shape. He didn’t last long. He had a heart attack after twelve miles,” she said, grinning.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Is it always someone you know?”

“Not always,” Aunt Jessica said, swirling the liquid in her glass.

“Rarely,” my mother corrected her. “As difficult as that sounds, it is not an excuse to not perform your duty.”

Aunt Jessica squeezed her lips together as she twisted her strawberry blonde hair. “Just be careful. Don’t get yourself involved in anything that looks like a murder. I thought it would be fun to pass myself off as a private investigator, but it just made the local police suspicious. You don’t want that. This job is hard enough to do without some over-eager police officer following you around and checking your whereabouts constantly.”

My mother shook her head. “That stupid television program.”

“Now that wasn’t my fault, Ann Marie. How was I supposed to know some TV producer got his rocks off reading the local paper and keeping track of every time my name was mentioned?” my aunt said.

“You didn’t have to sign the contract.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “What was I supposed to do? I needed the money and he had me over a barrel. He threatened to go to the police with his so-called evidence. It’s bad enough I had to change back to my maiden name and move.”

“You are much too reckless for your own good. You’re fortunate you didn’t end up in jail or exposing your reaper powers to the world.”

“Honestly, Ann Marie, I’ve seen some of the things you’ve done. I’m hardly as reckless. I’m a sweet old woman—no one would ever suspect me. They’d just think I’d read too many mystery novels and had gotten myself in over my head,” Aunt Jessica explained.

My mother glared at her sister as she cut a piece of her pork chop. “You’ll get yourself arrested with that attitude. Or maybe someday the police will get an anonymous tip.”

“Girls,” my grandmother interrupted them. “This is Madison’s day, let’s try to keep it civil.”

Jessica huffed.

My mother pushed her scarlet hair behind her ear. “Yes, of course. Where were we?” my mother said, getting up from the table and going to the china cabinet. She returned with a large jewelry box with a red ribbon tied around it and slid it towards me. “It’s time you had one of these.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” I asked.

“Open it and find out,” my grandmother said.

I fumbled with the ribbon, removing it from the box. The lid opened smoothly, revealing a dark chain decorated with black and red stones, with a single black pearl hanging from it. I glanced between my mother and sister’s necks. “It’s just like yours and Clarissa’s.”

Clarissa touched the nearly identical piece of jewelry around her neck. “I got mine on the day I was chosen too.”

“It’s a family tradition that on your choosing day, a symbol of your adulthood and responsibility is given to you. In our family, we give pearls to women and watches to men,” my grandmother explained.

“But I’m only eighteen,” I said, staring down at the necklace.

My mother shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. Death has deemed you ready. You’re no longer my little girl anymore.” My mother lifted the piece of jewelry from the box and held it in front of me. “Would you like to try it on?” I reached for it but she said, “Allow me, dear.”

I lifted my hair, allowing her to position the piece around my neck. I touched the pearl, rolling its smoothness between my fingers. “Why is it black?”

“To represent your role as a reaper, the guardian between life and the afterlife.”

I pointed at my mother’s pearls. “But yours are white.”

Her eyes lowered. “This isn’t my choosing day necklace. I lost mine a long time ago. Plus black clashes with my hair.”

“Have you decided who’s going to mentor Madison with her first client yet?” my grandmother asked. “I’d be more than happy to go along with her to make sure she gets on alright.”

“If it’s okay, grandma, I thought I’d be her mentor. She’ll probably want to use some of the modern technology we have now, so I’d be best to help with that,” Clarissa said, waving her cell phone.

“You can use your phone?” I asked. “What do you do, take their soul via text message?”

My sister wrinkled her nose. “No, we have an app to assist us. They’ll tell you all about it at Reaping 101 next week,” Clarissa said, pointed at a black app with a skull and crossbones as its icon.

“Reaping 101?” I said, my eyes widening.

“It’s your beginners’ training. Every new reaper has to attend. How else would you learn how to use your powers?” my mother said.

I cocked an eyebrow at her. She had to be kidding. “I have to go back to school? I thought this was my destiny and I was supposed to know what to do automatically.”

My mother laughed. “There is no way I’m letting you out on the streets without training. Sometimes there are serious complications, times when it may be difficult for you to follow the rules. You need to be trained how to safely do your job so you don’t put yourself, other reapers or clients in danger.”

“Safety training? I’m going to kill them anyway. Don’t I have to just touch them and take the soul? I’m sure I can manage that without some boring class,” I told her.

“Honey, you aren’t the most responsible girl at the best of times. You have to learn the rules and follow them. No exceptions, ever,” she said sternly.

“Fine, I’ll go,” I sighed.

“Make sure you read the manual before you go, that way you’ll pass quickly and we can get you straight onto your first client,” Clarissa said.

I picked up the book from the table, opening it a random page, and read: “The first appearance of a grim reaper dates back to the twelfth century. The Black Plague ravaged through Europe killing an estimated 75 million people.”

My eyes glazed over. This was not going to be easy reading.

“I’m back and I bought home leftovers,” I shouted, opening the front door to my apartment.

“Be right out,” Aaron called from the bathroom.

I could hear the shower running and I double-checked the hallway before dashing into my bedroom. I glanced around the room looking for the perfect hiding spot before opening my dresser. I removed the ancient text from the waistband of my jeans and buried the strange new book under my underwear and bras. Breathing a sigh of relief, I wandered to the kitchen to unpack the leftovers from lunch.

“I call dibs on any potato salad,” Aaron said.

“I know, I bought it home for you. I always do.”

Aaron entered the room wearing only a pair of sweatpants. His eyes fell on my outfit. “Why are you dressed like a soccer mom?” he asked, then rooted through the plastic bag to remove the remaining Tupperware.

“Borrowed from my mother, long story.” I pointed to his sweatpants. “Do we have a new dress code I didn’t know about?”

“You mean you don’t like this eye candy?” He ran a hand through his light dusting of dark chest hair.

I raised an eyebrow. I had to admit the view wasn’t bad. He was thin but there was still a hint of muscles. He had started to look a lot more like his brother as he got older.

“Did you forget to do laundry again?”

He glanced across the kitchen. “It’s in the dryer. I had an incident with a bottle of mustard earlier and my shirt was a casualty. I promise to get fully dressed once it comes out.”

I smirked. “Good. If I can’t walk around topless, you shouldn’t be able to either.”

“Do what makes you comfortable,” he said

I covered my mouth with my hand. “Never gonna happen.”

“Hey, I was just solving the problem.” He picked up the potato salad and a fork.

I nudged him with my hip as he tried to pass me. “Why don’t you try world hunger next?”

He stuck his tongue out at me before taking a bite of the potato salad. “The nectar of the gods. Remind me why I don’t marry that woman so she can cook for me everyday?”

“Eww, first of all gross, that’s my mother, and second she’s twice your age.”

He shrugged. “Age is only a number. It wouldn’t bother me if I was eating like a king everyday.”

“I repeat. Eeww.”

“Speaking of gross crushes, I got Marcus to pick up your car. He said it’ll be a few days before it’s back on the road again.”

“Aww, that’s so nice of him. A few days is fine. I’ll need it for class next week.”

“You’re going back to school?”

“Umm… yeah, I guess. Mom kind of roped me into it. It’s an… accountancy course,” I blurted out. “I told her I learnt to cash up at the Burger Hut, but she thinks it will help me start acting more grown up so I can sort out my own finances.”

“Well if you learn to add up half as well as her it’ll be worth it, but that does mean I can never let you move out. I’ll need someone to keep track of my millions when I’m rich.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said.

The metal fence was rusty and bent and the brickwork of the factory had started to crumble into red dust, dyeing the surrounding sidewalk a brownish shade. An angry sign hung on the fence. It read: “Danger, keep out.” I had to have the address wrong. Why would they hold our classes here? I wandered along the exterior looking for any signs of life… or afterlife. I thought about phoning Clarissa, but she had already made it plain to me that the location of my class was the only information she was allowed to share with me.

I walked past another gate when I noticed it didn’t match the fences around it. It was made of gray steel and looked like it had been recently installed. There was a piece of yellow paper taped to the door. The words “This way” were written on it.

Checking around me, I pushed open the latch and swung the gate open. Still surprised that it had opened, I stepped inside and closed the gate behind me. There was still a chance this wasn’t where my class was being held and I was walking inside a crack den or an evil villain’s hideout.

I could see it now. Skye Hawke’s arch nemesis, Riga Tony, taking a long drag from his cigar before barking orders at his henchman that some broad had found their secret hideout and to take her out. I’d hear them coming and duck behind a tree to instantly change into my grim reaper robe. As they approached me with machine guns, I’d jump out of the shadows taking a superhero pose as… Dead Girl! They’d fire bullets at me, but I’d knock them away with my scythe. The scythe would then act as a boomerang as it sliced through their gun barrels, making them useless. The cronies would beg for their lives. My powers would shoot from my fingertips, blinding them with a black smoke. They’d choke on it, rendering them unconscious until the police came. Riga Tony would run away, vowing revenge next time.

I giggled to myself, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. After all, I hadn’t brought my robe and wasn’t really sure if grim reapers used scythes. I wandered around the exterior of the factory looking for my next clue. I was relieved to find a second piece of paper stuck to another door that led inside the factory. The paper read: “Take the stairs to the second floor. Room eight.”

Making a mental note of the number, I opened the door to find an huge space with various machines scattered around it; giant mixers, blades and conveyer belts surrounded me. A mob boss could do some serious torture here. The fluorescent light bulbs buzzing overhead flickered. I flew up the stairs to the second floor like I was being chased in a horror movie. The whole building was eerily quiet and I wondered if I should just turn around and leave. I didn’t want a repeat of last time, with smoke-filled rooms and freaky monsters choosing me as their minion. I pulled my keys out of my bag and held them in a defensive stance before opening the door to room eight with my other hand.

A classroom of around ten people greeted me on the other side. There were no flames, no smoke. Just plain white walls, plastic desks and an old fashioned blackboard.

A woman with a stern bun and glasses met me at the door while holding a clipboard. “Name?”

“Madison Clark. I’m not sure if I’m in the right place.”

“Do you normally go skulking around abandoned buildings?” the woman asked.

“No.”

“Then you’re in the right place.” She made a checkmark on her list. “Please have a seat. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”