Deadly Kisses - By Kerri Cuevas Page 0,7

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.

Four

This was a reap gone bad. I could feel the girl’s emotions flow into me. Smooth fibers of energy, fear, and acceptance filled an empty void.

“I need my scythe back. You can’t use it and I doubt you could kill someone with it.” I took a step toward her and held out my hand. She recoiled, seeing the bones of my hand encrusted with rotted flesh.

“Get back or I’ll scream!” She stood her ground, aiming the shiny silver blade at me.

“Just give me that back and I’ll leave. I can’t kill you tonight anyway because a part of my soul is stuck in you. Hope you like winter because I’m a bit chilly. You, on the other hand, are very toasty.”

“Stay away!”

“You have one second to drop my scythe or I’m going to fry your fingers off, and I’m not keen on smelling burnt flesh. It makes me want to puke. Long story.”

I concentrated my thoughts on warming up the handle of the scythe and the girls fingers twitched.

“What’s to say you won’t come back? If you go near my family I’ll . . .”

“You are marked to die, not your mother or father or brother, only you. I can’t touch them. Now be a good little girl