Deadly Kisses

Three





I couldn’t bring myself to follow Bee to her cousin Sabrina’s house. Thoughts of Sabrina rattled through my brain, the flashbacks causing a death ache in my temples. I watched until the trio reached the edge of the yard. The girl turned to the cemetery before running fast toward the small farmhouse.

I sat at the base of a rotted tree and waited for the cover of darkness before entering her house. I had to do everything I could to stay impersonal with this reap, which meant staying away from her as much as possible.

When darkness came, I picked the lock to her front door and hid in the shadows. Her room was small but homey. Purple curtains hung from the windows. A long curtain covered the door that led to the woods. Over a dresser hung a corkboard with pictures in neat lines held by colored pins. I looked away from a picture of us fishing by the river.

It took forever for her to go to bed. She comforted her mother, helped her dad move a flock of chickens into the coop, and then played video games with her brother—which ended in an argument. I banked that once she did go to bed it would be sweet dreams.

She tossed and turned for an hour and called out for Sabrina twice. It was a total downer. I curled into myself as a knife inched into my gut, slowly reaching up toward my heart.

My patience for this assignment thinned. I just wanted to get her death over with, but when I saw how she looked bundled up in a rose blanket with her black hair framed against her face, she wasn’t any girl. She was Sabrina’s cousin, and the girl I had always loved. Bee was marked and had to die, and acid churned in my stomach.

I turned my head to give my brain a break. I didn’t want her image a permanent engraving in my memory, but it was too late. She had been in every dream since I was twelve. At fifteen, when the other boys were counting how many girls they kissed, I counted how many times a day she smiled at me. She and Sabrina were all I had. My drunken mother who beat me didn’t count.

I shook my head to rid it of the bad memories. I tried to act like this was just my average reap, and I moved forward. The floor squeaked, and I froze. Old mortal habits were hard to stop. I took another step toward her bed. Stuffed dogs were in a neat row near her feet and shadows danced on the wall.

I leaned my scythe against her desk, lowering its power to a minimum. She turned on her back. I froze again.

She smiled and her lips went into a thin straight line. Heat radiated from her body and hit me in waves. It wasn’t normal for me to feel warmth without a reaped soul, let alone it streaming out from people. I tried to ignore the warmth, but it made me feel alive and drew me to her.

I couldn’t help but stand next to her bed, staring at her as I soaked up every ounce of warmth. She was like standing on the summit of Mount Monadnock at high noon, like eating greasy pizza at The Cheshire, like the lyrics to a new song flowing through me after writing the chords.

I raised my head to the stucco ceiling and held my arms out. I could have stood there all night basking in her warmth, but my cell phone vibrated and beeped. I fumbled through my cloak and tossed the heavy fabric until my hand reached it, turning it off. The girl moved but didn’t wake.

With every step I took, she twitched and moaned. The darn floor was too squeaky. The walk to her bed was slow.

I hovered over her and had the urge to touch her face, but I was scared to get lost in the consuming warmth she oozed. I brought my body closer to hers, the sleeves of my cloak sat heavy on her sheets. I was careful to be slow and quiet.

The sweet smell of warm honey coming from her skin made me want to taste her. I brought my lips inches from hers and kept my eyes open, so she wouldn’t be scared when I drank her soul. She had liked my blue eyes and told me they were like the sky on a June day chasing away the winter snow. Maybe she would recognize them.

I let my lips rest on hers. Their warmth flooded me. I wanted to take her mouth in mine, but I just held my lips to hers, savoring what I never had in life. It was what I always wanted. I was cheated of my life.

Electric tingles sparked from us and danced. I shuddered when her warmth covered my cold. She smelled so good. The scent of flowers blossomed from her hair.

Her heartbeat matched pace with mine, but time was almost up. I felt my soul stir. It itched to be close to hers, to take it inside me for safekeeping. Its warmth made me feel alive.

My soul crept up into my mouth. It overpowered my breath with a black licorice taste. I didn’t want the feel of her lips on mine to end, but it was time. Death was minutes away. I had kissed many people as a Grim Reaper, but her touch would be forever with me. Soft, silky, and hot.

I started to draw in her breath. Her soul resisted. I drew again and it sent hot embers into my mouth. I tried not to break free. I’d been told no soul could resist. I drew up more scalding hot and it burned the lining of my throat. This was very bad. My heart raced.

I drew in deeper, my throat now a fiery inferno, and a flashback of my death began. Sweat beaded at my brow. I forced the flashback away. I had to kill her. I loved her. She would go to the Golden Gate and it would be okay. I didn’t want to fail at my reap and be sucked into the River of Lost Souls. It was almost over. Only one more breath to go and her heart would stop beating.

Oh God, the flashback again. Images of the road and bridge came in quick, broken pictures. The crack of the tree snapping and glass shattering droned in my ears. I pushed away the memories because I had to finish the job and kill the girl. Her soul was right at the tip of my lips. I felt the slow pace of her heart, her blood cooling. She tasted like Sweet Tarts and vanilla.

Two hands grabbed the edge of my hood. The flashback stopped. I jerked back and lost my touch on her lips. With her hands still on me, she gasped and managed to suck back in most of her soul, and mine, before she punched me right in the face.

Well, this was new.

I wasn’t sure what was happening. My head throbbed. I had failed to kill her. I could feel her soul in me, warm and tingly, and my mouth still watered at her sweet taste.

My heart slammed against my rib cage. The girl practically came out of a coma and hit me, and not like a girl. She threw herself into it and managed to knock me back. I reached empty air to grab my scythe. Through clouded vision, a sharp silver tip glared at me. She had my scythe! By the looks of it, she was going to use it on me. That would be a ticket to Hell. I waved my hands to her. “Stop.” My scythe followed the motion of my hands, so I stopped moving them.

A ring of fire lit her eyes. It was the first time since I died that I was scared. Stupid me. I let a girl back me up in a corner using my own device. I stood there with my jaw half hanging open, my throat still on fire, a bass drum beat in my heart, and I was drunk off her fiery spirit.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” she said.

“Huh?” I coughed and swallowed a gazillion times to put the fire out. The lining of my throat burned. I sounded like an old man.

“Great, you weren’t even listening. Do you have ears under that big ugly cloak?”

Big ugly cloak, that was harsh. I didn’t get to choose my wardrobe, not that I cared what I wore. Half my lip quirked up over the way she was ranting. It was very cute. No! I shook my head to stop the thoughts. I felt life in me and not dead cold. I failed and she was still alive.

“Wait! You can see me?” My voice came out in a croak. I disguised it, talking low, so she wouldn’t recognize me. Bee could never know who I was.

She punched me in the shoulder.

“Ow. What was that for?” I said. What was going on? She saw me?

“Looks like they sent me a dumb Grim Reaper, and you’re really bony. That’s gross.”

I tried to grab my scythe back, but she pulled it away. I tried to pry her hand away, and she froze, looking down at my hand.

“What?” I asked.

She stared.

“You done tempting death, because you can’t win?” I took a step forward, challenging her. I laughed at the bright blue heart pajamas.

“You find something funny, dead boy?”

She was as spirited as I remembered. Her hand went on her hip and she grasped my scythe in the other. “How can you be laughing after trying to kill me? I see, you kill for kicks.”

“You’re amusing.” I took a step closer, careful to keep my hood pulled down to my nose. “Now let me finish the job.”

I looked down into her warm brown eyes. I tried a technique I heard Abe talking about, a pathetic attempt to inhale her soul without lip contact. Warmth mingled with my cold and pushed my soul back down. I put my hands to my throat choking down flames. “What the heck are you doing to me?”

“You’re kidding, right? You’re trying to kill me and you’re asking what I did to you? Go to hell, death boy.”

I swallowed hard and the licorice flavor went away. “It’s not my fault. I just do what I’m told.” Abe was going to kill me—again.