a tight line. “You might be able to ask Death, but I’d doubt it. He’s cracked down on us since I, well, met your great-great-great-great-grandfather, Darren.”
That was probably a no. So that’s it. Even if Ethan was to live forever, he might be alone. Oh, fuck that. “I couldn’t do that.” I met her eyes. “I would need to be there for Ethan. We’re family. I couldn’t leave him alone if I was alive.”
“You wouldn’t be truly alive, Lexie. You’d just be … paused.” She tilted her head to the side. “But I could see what I can do.”
Another question was nagging at me. “Why do you want me to be a Reaper?”
She hesitated. “Because you’d be good. Incredibly good.”
I turned towards her. “Why do you think that?”
“You’ve been doing the job for years already.” She smiled a small smile. “Talking to the dead, helping them tell their story or simply realize they’re dead. You’ve been acting as a Reaper for some time now. Being a Reaper is about compassion. True, pure compassion for another soul. It’s a rare trait in a person.”
I shook my head. “Is that all you do? Talk to them?”
She shifted on the couch. “Most of the time we find a soul that’s lost and deliver them to the Veil. We simply help them find their way.”
“Then why couldn’t the dead cross with the Veil shut?” I asked, moving to the couch to sit on the arm again.
She sighed. “Because we couldn’t find it. Normally it’s a beacon of light to us, but whatever was done blocked that light.”
“So, the dead saw me as the Veil?” I asked.
She nodded. “Necromancers are tied to the dead. They always look like small beacons of light. Only, once you linked to the Veil you became as bright as the sun to them.”
I shoved my hand through my hair. “That explains why they all came here.”
Her brow furrowed. “Shoot.” She got to her feet. “I have to go. I had hoped we’d have more time together.”
“Thank you, for the books,” I said.
A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That would be against the rules.”
I smiled. Between one blink and the next, she disappeared.
I was still sitting there in the dark an hour later, my mind racing over the situation. I had already promised Ethan and I would not go back on my promise. She wanted me as a Reaper for some reason, and that gave me leverage. Maybe I could use it, a bargaining chip so I could have a normal life and not leave Ethan alone?
Chapter 11
It was the morning of Miles’ dad’s funeral, so I made a point to make sure I was presentable. A charcoal sheath dress that hit my knees, black pumps, and my black coat rounded out my outfit. It was classic and respectful.
When it was time to go, I knocked softly on Miles’ door.
“Come in,” he called, his voice quiet.
I opened the door and found him staring at himself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. He was in a smart black three-piece suit and white dress shirt.
As I watched, he finished tying his tie and met my gaze in the mirror. “It’s time?”
I nodded.
Miles took a deep breath and moved into the hall. We walked beside one another, his cold hand in mine. “Stay with me today?”
“Of course.” I squeezed his hand as we reached the top of the stairs.
The guys were waiting for us at the bottom, each of them in black trousers, matching jacket, and tie, though Asher’s shirt was blue, Ethan’s was red, and Isaac’s was green. They were all so handsome. Even Zeke was dressed up in a black button down, black tie and slacks.
There was a weighted silence that hung over all of us.
Miles looked at each of them with warmth in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it.
“The car’s here,” Asher murmured before he led the way out to the long black limo that was sitting in the gravel drive.
One of the bodyguards sat in front with the driver as each of us slid across the lush leather seating. No one said a word as the limo moved slowly down the gravel driveway. Miles’ gaze was dull and expressionless as he looked out the window at the passing trees.
“What church are we going to?” Isaac asked.
“I-I don’t know.” Miles blinked and turned to me. “Lexie?”
“Um, we’re not. We’re