beneath Nikolas like The Flood. It stained the cobblestones dark crimson. The idea of finding a rug of the same shade distracted Death. He weighed the pros and cons of displaying a blood red carpet in his office when Travis’s grunt returned his consciousness fully to the task at hand.
Pride stretched across his face as he watched his protege perform masterful work. He’d taught the Reaper of Texas well over the centuries. The mosaic of cuts he’d inflicted on Nikolas were so artistic they could make Michelangelo weep for joy. Travis could paint the Mona Lisa on the younger Reaper’s body if he wanted to.
In the countless years of Death’s existence, he could legitimately say he’d seen it all. Yet, the courage Nikolas exhibited had him doubting his actions. No matter how much Travis sliced, poked, shredded, and burned, the Reaper of Georgia looked on serenely. Death knew the Reaper felt pain. He’d made sure of it by entering Nikolas’s mind. Agony trespassed underneath his skin. What surprised Death were the images Nikolas replayed over and over in his head of the girl with fiery hair.
“Travis—” Death touched the Reaper of Texas on the arm just as the Texan lifted a hacksaw “—give us a moment if you please.”
Travis let go of the saw and disappeared. A good soldier never asked questions. He obeyed any order. Death made a mental note to commend Travis. Many of his siblings perceived him as a happy-go-lucky, lazy sort. Only a handful knew the true nature Travis hid within the darkest corners of his mind.
“Why do you refuse to see reason, Nikolas?” Death closed the gap between them until he stood close enough to smell sweat, his robes soaking up the blood he’d taken so much care to avoid. “Surely, one girl isn’t worth this much pain? Granted, she is your first love. One you will never forget of course, but she’s mortal, and will die eventually, even if I hadn’t signed the Certificate today.”
“Ehnd yeth yuh dhith,” Nikolas slurred, his tongue having been pulled out by Travis using hot tongs earlier.
“It’s part of my job, which you so conveniently forget in this case. I sign countless Certificates on a daily basis, Nikolas. I hardly have the time to read them all. You seem to forget who you’re speaking to.”
“Aiy whill noth—” he swallowed “—rhethurn toh an esisthance wiouth er. Yuh’d bether khill me…aiy whill neva rheap ahgen.”
His elbow cradled in the cup of his hand, Death tapped his cheek. “I think I’m going about this the wrong way. You seem to be handling the situation better than I expected.”
Drool dripped from Nikolas’s chin.
“I would have gladly discussed this over lunch, but would you have listened to reason otherwise?”
Nikolas shook his head like a dead man. No hope. No expectations of survival.
“I didn’t think so.” Death’s sigh mirrored that of a parent exasperated with a willful child. What was he to do? He waved his hand and healed Nikolas. “Physical torture isn’t for you. You’ve forced me to resort to other methods. Let’s take a leaf from the Nazis and try mental torture, shall we? We’ll be more high tech, of course.” He snapped his fingers and a large flat screen floated down from the infinite ceiling to hover at eye level.
The invisible lights dimmed, allowing for a theater-like atmosphere. Death held off on the popcorn stand, deeming it inappropriate for the kind of movie on the playlist tonight. Numbers counted down on the screen. At zero, a girl in a delicate white, cotton dress bounced into focus. She waved, a smile that could enthrall a charging barbarian army into submission on her lips.
Death stood beside the screen, but instead of watching the program, he focused his attention on Nikolas. He caught the subtle changes in the boy’s expression. Nikolas could tell a story through his facial features alone. First of elation. Then of confusion.
The story ended with a grimace as Nikolas said, “What does showing Arianne accomplish?”
“Wait for it.”
The girl on the television entered a lush summer garden, her bare feet crunching blades of grass in her wake. She neared an oak tree and climbed it. At the highest branch, she sat and pulled up a rope tied to it. She showed the audience the noose like a circus performer about to execute a daring feat. Never losing her smile, she placed the noose around her neck, pulled it tight, waved one more time, then jumped.
“No!” Nikolas croaked out. He struggled to free himself from his restraints. Only when the girl walked across the screen again, this time in an empty room with peeling yellow paint, did he calm down. She blew a kiss at him before running towards double doors and swan diving off the balcony. Nikolas cried out again, his speech garbled by rage and a steady stream of curses.
“Now you get to see her die in a million different ways. Hopefully, through this exercise, you will learn she’s human and fragile and meant to expire at any time,” explained Death. “That’s just the way it is. The sooner you get it, the faster we can move on and get back to work.”
Chapter 26
NIKO’S WRISTS AND ANKLES BLED A RIVER. His back bowed from the effort to escape. He ignored the pain, his mind obsessed with finding a way out of his misery. He could no longer watch Arianne kill herself over and over again. He always knew his master possessed an unrivaled cruelty, but he’d never expected to be at the receiving end of it. There was a huge difference between watching a storm unfold somewhere else and actually being within the gale force winds.
Closing his eyes had been useless. Of course Death prevented him from blocking the images with his eyelids. It wouldn’t be
Death continued to observe, saying nothing. Showing no emotions on his magnificent face—the Devil disguised as Aphrodite.
“Make it stop,” Niko begged, his breaking point upon him like gray, pregnant clouds ushering in rainfall. At the back of his mind, he’d been ashamed of his weakness. But witnessing Arianne hurting herself while wearing a smile that melted his heart had overpowered his shame.
“Are you willing to resume your duties then?” Death asked. “Enforce the Certificate on Arianne Wilson? I would hate to have to replace you.”
“No.” He bared his teeth.
“Then let the lesson continue.”
“Master…”
“The journey has just begun for you, Nikolas. We’ve only seen a few hundred ways a life could end. I have many more in store.” Death touched the center of his chest. “And surely, you wouldn’t want me to enforce the Certificate for you, right?”
Niko groaned; he couldn’t help it. His strength had shriveled the first hundred times Arianne had taken her last breath on screen. Reminding himself it wasn’t real didn’t work. In fact, it seemed to make the idea of watching her demise worse. Loving her had changed him. Other Reapers, and certainly his master, saw his feelings as a hindrance. But compared to the lives he’d lived, meeting Arianne had given him an actual appreciation for his existence. She’d made him eager to wake in the mornings. She’d made him laugh without trying hard at it. And most of all, she’d shown him what it meant to love someone.
Niko released the tension on his restraints and allowed gravity to take his weight. “Master,” he whispered, “have you ever loved someone?”
The image on the screen froze—Arianne twisting the cap off a bottle of bleach.
“What did you say?” Death approached him cautiously.
“You heard me.”
The ever present silence reigned supreme for what seemed like several lifetimes between master and servant. Niko stared Death straight in the face, pushing away the captivation his beauty brought with it.
“Do you honestly think I have the time for such frivolities as
The sides of Niko’s mouth moved up of their own volition.
“What are you smiling at?”
“I pity you, Master.” Niko laughed. “To not know what it means to have someone so important in your life
