It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,31

says. “But yes, we have a deal.”

I jump out of my chair and this time, Sal doesn’t even try to hold me back. I race around the table and throw my arms around Death Himself, who seems completely unprepared and unmoved.

“I’m sorry,” I say breathlessly. “I’d almost given up, and then you came and forced them to give me a chance. Thank you so much.”

He eases himself from my grasp and takes my elbow, leading me away from the disapproving trio. “Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart. This deal may sound like a lifeline, but let me assure you, it isn’t. In fact, I’m pretty sure there will come a time when being stuck in the Lobby will seem like a vacation.”

“Not likely,” I scoff.

He pushes open the large doors that lead to the steps. Once we’re outside, he stops, spins me around, and says, “You’re pretty arrogant for someone who was about ten seconds away from never feeling the grass beneath your feet or the sun on your face again. There are a lot of things in this situation I don’t control, so you better take it seriously.”

“Like what?” I ask.

He gives me a questioning look.

“What can’t you control?” I ask again.

“I may be able to pick the moments, but the Fates decide when you enter into the action.”

“So?”

“The Fates take their direction from Marmaroth.”

“Yeah, but I thought he was on board?” I say as desperation begins to expand in my stomach.

“That doesn’t mean he wants you to succeed. The sooner you fail, the less work he has to do to fix this mess.”

“Oh.” I know Marmaroth wasn’t excited about me going back to my life, but the idea that he would set me up to fail knocks my confidence to the gutter.

“It’s not too late,” he says, giving me a hard look. “You can still decide to wait until they call your name in the Lobby. No one would blame you if you did. It’s the easy way out.”

I think about his suggestion. I could go back to the Lobby and hang out with Sandy, playing pranks on the new arrivals. But then I will never see my mom or dad again. I would never know what it was like to love someone so deeply that I’m willing to wait for him for eternity. I’m not ready to be dead.

“No,” I say with resolve. “I may be a lot of those things the Tribunal said about me, but I’m not a quitter. Whatever Marmaroth throws at me, I can handle.”

Death Himself flashes me a grin of approval. “Well, alright then. Let’s go change your future, shall we?”

Chapter 13

With a flick of his wrist and a snap of his fingers, Death Himself transports us to his domain.

We stop in front of a building that looks more like a fraternity house than the global hub for all Grim Reaper activities. “Here we are, home sweet home,” he says, leading me up the stairs and through the door.

Once inside, I see the entire first floor is one giant library. And it definitely doesn’t smell like a frat house—thankfully. It smells like a wood burning stove.

“You live here?” I ask, glancing around. Clusters of Reapers are sitting together at huge wooden tables, their heads bent over thick silver binders.

“More or less.”

I look over the shoulder of a nearby figure and see a bio page complete with mug shot. Is this how they know who their mark is? Maybe Gideon should have done a little more homework. I turn to ask where my file is, but Death Himself is already halfway down the hall.

He moves like the wind and I practically have to sprint to catch up with him. “Slow down,” I plead.

“Can’t. Hitting Pipe this afternoon, remember?”

Wait. He was serious. Death Himself is a surfer? “You’re going to catch a wave at a time like this?”

He ignores me, and I have no choice but to follow him down a narrow hallway and into an office with a large stone fireplace.

“Do you get cold?” I ask in surprise at the roaring blaze that’s built up inside.

“Nope.” For all his eloquent words in front of the Tribunal, Death Himself really doesn’t talk much.

“So, what happens now?” I ask, flipping through a stack of files on a table.

He pulls down a gold binder from a high shelf and flips it open, ignoring me. After a few minutes, he turns toward the fire, picks up a stone, and whispers something over it before chucking it into the