The Grim Reaper’s Mate

Something About Christine

David

“I’m ready to move on, but where are we going?” Christine asked the obvious, but I wasn’t sure how to answer. Where am I taking her? She would need a protector. I could do that, but if she approaches me naked again, I think I’ll die all over again. I can picture her just as clearly as if she was still standing in front of me with those innocent eyes looking up at. She’s very beautiful, and I don’t know if I can handle living with her in a platonic state. I could feel her eyes on me, so I glanced over. Her blue eyes warmed me from deep down in my stomach. No. I will have to make it work. The further away I get from the adrenaline rush, the more I'm able to look at things more objectively. My mind is slowly clearing.

“Well, I’ll take you to my house. You can live there as long as you like. I’ll find another place to live.”

“Another place?!” She gasped in alarm. She startled me, and I momentarily swerved the limo.

“Um. Yes? Look, I spared your life and all, but I’m not planning on us living together like that or anything. My job is dangerous. I can’t have an intimate relationship with you without putting you in constant danger,” I answered as honestly as I could while still being vague.

The truth is, Christine, I’m dead. I’m being given a second chance, but my body has already been dead once. I don’t even know if I actually feel anything for you. I can’t give you a full life. Plus, Grim Reaper will take me away if I botch my second chance. Do you really want a life with someone who is dead? Besides that, Grim Reaper is oddly interested in you, and I'm not crossing him.

“I’m not asking for an intimate relationship,” she mumbled shyly, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s just I’m not sure I could survive on my own right now.”

“I grabbed plenty of money for you. It’s all yours, of course, as the Rivers’ fortune heiress. I’m sure you could buy a nice house in cash, meet a rich (living) man, and have a comfortable life from now on...” I paused when I heard her sniff. Was she CRYING?! The heck was wrong with this girl?!

“I don’t want that kind of life!” She suddenly yelled, “I want to work and learn and live in an apartment building with loud neighbors and annoying kids! I want to eat sandwiches while I wait for a paycheck and watch the sun set through the holes in my walls! I want a cold house in winter and a hot house in summer! I want to get back everything I lost when my father sold his soul to the devil!”

Her eyes were pouring tears as her tirade ended. I wasn’t sure what all I just heard, but it all sounded completely sincere. Crazy, but sincere.

“Was that what your childhood was like?” I asked softly, “Before your dad got rich?”

She was sniffling a bit, and I felt like she just wanted to sob for awhile. Of course she did. I was so heartless! She just lost everything and everyone. I assumed because of the stories I had heard of her father that his daughter would be just as ruthless, cold-hearted, and entitled. I once snuck into one event after I got my orders for Maxwell’s murder to observe his family so I could observe them.

———•————•————•

Flashback

“Who is that quiet, gorgeous creature near the windows?” Some man of importance asked another man near me.

“Huh. Don’t waste your time,” the other man sneered, “That’s Maxwell’s only daughter. A spoiled brat. She talks to no one at these events. Acts like she can't hear us. I suppose we’re all beneath her.”

“Well, I for one wouldn’t mind being beneath her,” the first man chuckled as he dropped his innuendo.

“Good luck, man. The women say she’s very picky and tortures her men during sex.”

“Like father, like daughter,” the first man sighed. “I’m not up for that. I bet one of these other ladies wouldn’t mind getting laid tonight, though.” He flashed a bit of cash, which earned a chuckle from the other man, and with that he was off.

I eyed the woman in question. The two men disgusted me, but what they said about me made me feel a swell of hatred for this haughty, abusive woman. She was just standing and staring out the window. Her long white hair had shades of blonde in it when the light hit it. Her back was to me. She was short. Maybe 5’2” at most. She was tiny, despite her figure being covered by the voluminous hair flowing down her back. Her hair stopped at her lower back and had pearls interwoven throughout. Real pearls, I’m sure. I was trying to remain inconspicuous as I acted my role of the hired help for the evening. Despite being a commoner, I had already been approached twice by other ladies looking for ‘a favor’. Obviously, the wealthy that come to these events are only looking for one-night stands. Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t interested. I was busy staring at Christine Rivers when I saw a lady approach her and murmur something to her and point in my direction. Christine didn’t even look my way, as I had hoped so I could see her face clearly. She simply turned and walked away. I didn’t see her for the rest of the night. I guess she got tired of being hit on. Or maybe she found someone to torture. I did see her father in a drunken state laugh raucously as he walked up the stairs toward the bedrooms with some other man’s wife, if the ring on her hand was any indication of her marriage status. I left the party soon after, having seen enough to disgust me and justify the murders I had been hired to commit. I never saw Christine’s face.

———-•————_•

Present

Her sniffling was lessening as she seemed to be trying to reign in her sudden burst of emotion. I’m sure she was tired. After all, I struck in the middle of the night. The sun wasn’t even up yet. Her exhaustion must be contributing to her emotions. She seemed so stoic and unemotional when I saw her at the party that night. How is this even the same woman?

I focused my eyes on the dark road, but her face danced before them. Her round, innocent face was framed by a low hairline of curly silken hair. Her skin was exceptionally pale, as though she rarely stepped into the sun. She didn’t look unhealthy pale, just lacking in melanin. Like a porcelain doll. Set in that white skin were luscious, small pink lips and those blue eyes. Her features were all petite like her. Her nose was small, her cheeks were round, her hair was definitely bigger than her head...this woman looked like a living doll. In my mind, I saw her body again. How did someone that small have breasts that round? Her body looked like she had been starved as a child and slowly trying to get a little weight on her as she aged. She looked like a work of art.

David! Man! Get your thoughts together! Grim Reaper will kill you if you touch her again! He'll kill you if he knows what you're thinking. Get your head in the game! I yelled at myself and shook my head. I felt Christine’s curious eyes on me as my hands gripped the steering wheel tighter and my head shook for no reason. No doubt about it. This woman next to me had made me feel more alive in the past two hours than I have felt in two years. She was waking up my humanity, and all the primal instincts that came with it. Bah. Who was I kidding? She brought out the man in me. I felt a great deal of responsibility for her and wanted to shield and protect her from people like me. I'm a great assassin because I can kill without getting worked up. I can be subjective and find it neither thrilling nor horrifying. I was just acting as a grim reaper myself, doing it mechanically, like it was something mundane. So why did this girl have power over me? Why did my body and blood react to her? It's weird, but there's just something about Christine.