At the corner of Demise Drive and Mortality Lane, set at the center of an otherworld metropolis painted in the milky mists of an afterlife glow, stood the Hall of Reaping Requirements and Acquisitions—a sleek tower of glimmering darkness to which I reported every day when not on task.

Today was one such day.

I climbed the fifty-two stairs from the street to the main lobby and made my way through the building toward the back auditorium for the morning lecture. Every booted step taken through the lobby and proceeding domed rotunda bounced off the white marble tiles and echoed between the slick sheets of agate lining the walls.

Above, pressed against the impossibly high ceiling of the pavilion, a cloud of flapping black feathers spun—circling crows awaiting their next messenger assignment.

Sometimes—okay, many times—the sensation of the murder of crows’ inky eyes set upon me and prickled across my skin, like they watched me more than any other who crossed beneath their flurry of activity. Did my fellow reapers feel the same?

Halfway across the rotunda, near the God of Death’s center statue, Chace Badden fell into step at my side, a confident swagger in his walk.

“Reaper Gunn,” he said, his delivery a smooth tease I ignored.

Even as my shoulders stiffened at the sight of him―black shirt, two unfastened buttons exposing a hint of skin, and pants snug against his body.

I dipped my gaze below his belt, and a tight breath dragged through my lungs.

He snagged my elbow―his touch gentle, casual, as if zero tension existed between us. “Spot something of interest?”

I fought the desire to roll my eyes. Of course he’d shown up today with a megabat-sized chip on his shoulder. An ego, no doubt, inflated by his parents’ never-ending bolstering. And…

A handful of females rushing toward the back hall leading to the auditorium tipped their heads together and, with giggles between them, ogled Chace as they passed.

And that. The way he drew admiring gazes from both females and males alike.

With a gentle tug, he drew me to a stop in the center of the large space. Right beneath the watchful gaze of Thanatos’s towering statue.

“What do you want?” I bit out.

He dipped his head as if about to whisper his response in my ear, his unruly, dark hair draping down his cheek and hiding the inked art currently visible across his jawline and neck.

From time to time, I’d noticed edges of the magical design shifting across his skin and coming into view. Those moments were rare; he usually kept the ink well covered, but occasionally I saw a hint of scales or something wrapped in swarthy, stretched leather. I’d never witnessed the tattoo move across the fringes of his face before, though.

The inked tail rattled.

With a jolt, I sucked back a sharp wheeze.

“Scared or surprised?” His words…and breath (crisp winter mint)…washed over me.

I slid my gaze from the reptile tattoo to his strong brow and defining jawline. His dark lashes swept down over his captivating, stormy eyes, like rolling rain clouds stirred with silver flecks.

Reaping gods, why did he have to be so…

Sin and desire breathtakingly enveloped in my rival.

Up until that moment, I had managed to avoid making eye contact, because…ugh. I blinked. When had he stepped insufferably close?

“Boundaries.” I yanked free of his light hold and resumed my forward stride, a fraction faster than before.

Keeping pace at my side, he made no attempt to recapture my arm, even as his lips lifted in a smirk and his gaze glided over me. “Apologies.”

Despite my apprehension and irritation, I spared him another quick glance and pretended not to notice, or care about, his wavy dark hair, chiseled jaw, or heart-stopping eyes. On occasion, I thought I spied the colors of the sunrise attempting to break through the moody drama of his irises.

I suppressed a sigh. Beauty was often a trap in nature, and no matter how easy I found him to gaze upon, he would always…always…rank high on my avoidance list.

I refocused on the path ahead. “Why are you bothering me?”

“I wanted to congratulate you on your mission success,” he said, regarding my previous task.

The task had consisted of an unwilling-to-depart mark who’d attempted to use magic to stay his death date. His efforts had hindered the effectiveness of my reaper tools and abilities, given I was a worker bee and not a deity.

Even my seasoned parents would have likely found the reap daunting.

Only, aware of what my challenging task presented, I had come prepared with a secret weapon (tool, really) that gave me an edge. One I’d borrowed, unbeknownst to anyone.

A group dashed past us, heading toward the lecture hall. In their haste, they smacked my left side.

I stopped hard with a hiss and rubbed my upper arm and shoulder. Like them, I too should hustle, and yet I indulged Chace in whatever nonsense he was up to.

Chace’s attention slid to where I massaged my new ache, and he shot the passing group a cold glare. Stared at their backsides until they’d moved several yards away. With a heave of his chest, he returned his regard to me and smiled. Something about his expression felt like a trap.

My chest tightened, robbing the easy flow of oxygen from my lungs. “You have yet to tell me why you’re really bothering me.”

“Is that so?” His delivery, as smooth as a scythe slice through the air, raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

Or maybe it was the twist of his lip, or the way his gaze felt too much like a caress.

“My father has suggested you cheated.” He surveyed our surroundings. No one stood nearby, yet he lowered his voice even more. “You didn’t cheat, did you?”

A tinge of scrutiny rang in the question, but that familiar search for confirmation resonated stronger. As if he wanted some sort of proof to justify his father’s suspicions.

“I don’t need to cheat.” And yet had I?

Ubel Badden, Chace’s father, was the kind of reaper to sow conflict with his words, be they honest or outright lies. Still, the question remained worth considering.

He grinned. “No doubt.”

Without conscious thought, I glanced at my palm and rubbed the new, ugly bruise decorating my skin. The cheat had extracted an unexpected toll, hence the welt. Something I didn’t care for Chace to ever know, lest he use that information against me. Or his father use it against my family.

Could using the tools at my disposal really be considered cheating?

I tended to think not, but then my father kept the tool locked in his cabinet…and it definitely wasn’t standard issue…even if it was created for the purpose of reaping. Reaping with the ease one might imagine a deity possessed.

Still, at day’s end, the job was the reap, by whatever means were necessary. So…

“Nevertheless,” he said, “just because someone doesn’t need to cheat doesn’t mean they didn’t do the deed.”

My uncommitted frown became the only response I gave to combat his statement, and yet he didn’t take the opportunity to walk away.

I so wished he would.

Instead, he offered me a stick of gum.

“Winterfresh,” he said, waving the gum like some sort of white flag declaring a truce between us.

My mouth popped open. “Are you suggesting my breath stinks?”

“Not in the slightest.” He clucked his tongue. “I was simply trying to be friendly.”

“So not your style.” I waved his offer away. “No thanks.”

“Your loss.” With a shrug, he popped one in his mouth and chewed.

The aroma of him, his breath, the gum…an aphrodisiac. My stomach dipped. A sensation I didn’t need to experience with him.

Wrinkling my nose, I leaned away. Glanced around the rotunda.

Why did I allow Chace to continue monopolizing my time, hold me immobile?

“Some have started calling you Ruthless Raven,” he said, his gaze fixed on me.

I attempted to show no physical reaction and focused on the fragile tightrope he’d chosen to walk, conversing with me when the less-than-pleasant peace between our families was already so delicate. My father had eyes everywhere. No doubt I’d hear about this exchange later tonight over dinner.

Chace pressed onward. “Looks like you’ve earned yourself a pretty cool nickname.”

I pulled my lips into a tight line, unglued my feet from their static position, and once more resumed my trek toward the lecture hall. He continued to keep pace and remained close at my side.

Maybe he found the term ruthless cool, but I sure didn’t. The nickname sounded harsh and cold, two things I didn’t care to have associated with my persona. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out he started the spread of my new, endearing title.

I’d never shown him any other side of myself beyond the professional mask I often wore. He had no way of knowing I wanted to be a gentle guide at an existence’s defining track change.

At the edge of the rotunda, as we skirted around the escalators from the underground levels—the gathering ground for lower death-linked supernaturals such as banshees, cyhyraeths, and bean-nighes―moans and howls from below joined the din within the pavilion.

The Hall of Reaping Requirements and Acquisitions catered to all death-related beings, outside of the death gods themselves. They—the gods—had become more of a myth in recent generations, having stilled their involvement in the transitioning of souls.

But the ability to step back from the workload was likely the reason the gods, or one death god in particular, Thanatos, had created the reapers in the first place.

Imagining the God of Death relaxing before a roaring fire, legs stretched out, and a glass of dark liqueur in hand always conjured a silent giggle within my chest.

I hadn’t a clue. But chillin’ twenty-four seven? Highly unlikely.

We wordlessly strode beyond the pavilion to one of the long hallways, and the ten-story ceiling conceded to that of an exaggerated single level. Wall sconces illuminated the pathway, and moving bodies of fellow reapers, young and old, filled the corridor. Their heavy, rushed footfalls beat upon the ground like an army of enthusiastic and uncoordinated drummers.

Steps inside the wood-paneled lecture hall, Chace paused to talk to someone—or a few someones.

Taking the opportunity to distance myself from him, the awkward situation, and the coming fatherly inquisition, I pressed forward, hurrying along the carpeted aisle of stadium seats. All the folding, leather-cushioned, wooden seats curved around a well-lit stage, upon which stood the instructor’s podium.

Spanning both sides of the room, from the stage to the entrance, ginormous sculptures of robed reapers pressed against the wall like sentinels, overseeing the learning attendees. As if the statues’ stony watch would keep us reapers in line in order to learn faster.

Two-thirds of the way down the steps, I claimed a seat four spots into a middle row with barely a minute to spare. I had a talent for showing up to scheduled events at the last free moment. A moment now spent.

Superior Grim entered the room through a door set in the wall at the side of the stage and cleared his throat, calling the session to order. As one of the oldest reapers, rumors claimed he was among the first of the Grims. The highest rank of reapers. The first created under Thanatos.

Chace slid into the chair beside me, sending a tiny jolt of surprise through my system.

I clenched my jaw and suppressed a sigh, the hope I had managed to escape his attention for the day dashed.

Before I realized what he was doing, he had captured thick strands of my hair between his fingers and thumb. My heart leaped into my throat as his grasp slowly glided along my long, black locks shimmering with strands of crimson.

“So soft.”

His barely there murmur left me unsure if I’d heard him correctly. But…

Thank the reaping fates I was already sitting down because an unexpected weakness overcame my limbs. And what was that about? He’d thrown my game off in such a shocking manner.

“Do you mind?” Recoiling, I tossed him a quick sideways glance as he released my hair and dropped his hand into his lap.

Clearly, my exit at the top of the stairs hadn’t been an obvious enough hint for him. And the touching… Yeah…he still suffered from boundary issues.

“Do I need to spell everything out for you? Leave. Me. Alone.”

Chace shouldn’t sit beside me, and he definitely shouldn’t touch me. He knew that as well as I did. We were rivals from enemy families…a simple don’t-cross-the-line situation.

“Ouch.” He slapped his hand to his chest. “You go straight for the jugular, don’t you? I already feel the loss of blood slowing my heart.”

My jaw tightened. “Stop it.”

“As you command.” He dipped his head. “Just pretend like I’m not even here.”

As if I ever could.

After our first introduction seven years ago, he’d become a glaring beacon at the edge of my personal hemisphere. One impossible to ignore.

“Or you could simply not be here,” I countered.

Chace pursed his lips and remained silent. He made no motion to switch seats.

Wonderful.

I trained my attention on the front of the room. Absentmindedly rubbed my bruised and aching palm. Too many things already crowded my brain. I didn’t need to deal with him on top of everything else.

“What are you doing here?” I asked with a low growl and tilted my head toward the seat he currently occupied. “Your father wouldn’t approve.”

He shrugged then leaned into our shared armrest. “In case you haven’t noticed, my dad isn’t here. And after the skills you displayed yesterday, I thought it was high time we talked without any accusations ruling the conversation.”

The edges of his mouth lifted. An expression on him I didn’t trust. And yet his emphasis on the word “dad”…hinted at something hostile between them.

“Yeah, I’m going to disagree on that one,” I said.

We had nothing to talk about. He had never shown an interest in me before, outside of rivalry games, and he didn’t need to find a nontoxic interest in me after an overly glorified reap.

Returning my attention to Superior Grim, I tried to pretend Chace sat anywhere but in the seat beside me. Absolutely no situation existed where I should find his antics or—I flicked a quick glance his way—his anything entertaining or interesting.

Superior Grim scribbled on the board, listing the names of several reapers who’d recently returned from tasks, along with the challenges and successes they had faced. Reviewing their experiences served as a learning opportunity for the rest of the group.

Four names down the list, he scribbled my name:

Raven Gunn.

I gritted my teeth. With that assortment of chosen words, the inevitable would come next.

“Miss Gunn.” Superior Grim turned toward the room and raised his head to my position. “Could you enlighten us on how you coerced your target to comply with his reaping?”

The worn leather of the armrests crackled beneath my tightened grip. Palpitations whomped in my chest, my eyes popping wide and my blood thrumming as if my heart resided within my too-tight grasp.

The room fell into silence, and I could sense everyone’s attention on me. Surrounding expressions betrayed everything from boredom to humor, but the look on Chace’s face… That one held my attention.

With his eyes partially hooded and the edge of his mouth tipped up, he appeared to be awaiting some brilliant response, only I didn’t have one. I only had tales of rules broken and soul-shattering tactics used.

Regardless, I opened my mouth because I had to say something.

But what?

Reaper’s Quest Chapter Two

I neither wanted nor needed the entire room focused on me...

Easy did not describe the collection. The method used tore away a piece of me—a part of my soul in exchange for the acquisition. If only I’d known that little consequence before using the tool..

Even now, the loss throbbed like a chunk of missing flesh. A fact I could never mention to anyone because the source of the pain came from an item I most certainly wasn’t meant to use..

So…yeah…Chace’s dad―Ubel―was probably right. My last reaping strategy would likely be considered cheating, but he didn’t need to know that. And besides, I’d completed the task. Nothing else should really matter..

Still, I now understood why my dad kept that artifact locked up..

“Come on, Ruthless Raven.” Chace leaned closer as he jabbed with both his elbow and his words, his tone taunting, irritating, and dripping with traps waiting to be sprung. “Don’t hold out on us. We’re all dying to know.”.

I swallowed hard, barely glancing his way. What story could I tell? The target had a change of heart? Nah. Target’s magic was weak or backfired? Nope. Anything I said would fail to satisfy..

“I can’t really say.” I shrugged and shook my head. “I just…did. I don’t know how else to explain it.”.

Chace’s nostrils flared as if he smelled my lie, and he pulled back into his seat, removing the press of his arm against my body..

“And there it is.” Superior Grim jabbed a pointed finger into the air. “A reaper’s biggest downfall is his or her mindset. It’s the only thing that can get in the way, for a reaper’s will to reap is infinite and absolute.”.

Murmurs of accord swept over the room, but I sat motionless and said nothing. I could not get behind Superior Grim’s statement. Reapers were not gods. And even gods…well, were they infinite and absolute?.

Chace’s intense scrutiny flickered to me, his face partially hidden behind a messy curtain of mid-length hair. He, no doubt, judged me. I knew he did. And he made little to no effort to hide that fact. The foreign sensation that, with just one look, he psychologically stripped me bare and exposed all my thoughts and emotions crawled over my skin..

“On the occasion when one of the more powerful beings puts up a fight,” Superior Grim continued, “increased measures to collect the soul may be required—”.

“Increased measures would suggest our will is not so absolute,” someone from the back of the room called out..

Superior Grim’s face hardened..

“Did you learn your manners from your father? I recall he always questioned the system.” He scrutinized the room, his finger extending in a sharp point. “Your fellow reapers can thank you for the extra workload today.”.

The room filled with a chorus of hisses and boos, and Superior Grim grabbed a stack of papers from the back table. The stack stood close to twelve inches tall, and each sheet held a soul requiring collection at a designated date and time..

“Everybody gets three basic, non-magical-being collections today.” He raised a handful of assignment sheets in the air and waved them. “And by that, I mean, three separate location collections. If you happen to get a twofer sheet, that counts as one, and you still get two more.”.

“Great,” I mumbled..

With my luck, I’d receive three separate assignments, each including two or more souls. Several accidents claiming multiple lives at once..

Superior Grim called the reapers in the first row forward to accept their assignments. The second row would follow, and so on, the procedure a well-worn familiarity amongst the attendees. Given that I sat in the eighth row, I had a few minutes before I needed to get in the pickup line. A long breath exhaled from my lungs as I dropped my head back against the seat..

Chace leaned in at my side, again, dragging my attention in his direction. The length of his arm pressed against mine, and an unexpected wave of tingles raced across my skin. Was that the sensation of my common sense retreating into the darkest pit of my soul?.

I’d swear that, for a moment, he stopped breathing. Had he felt my reaction? Or had he gotten an eyeful? Was I busting out of my top or something?.

A quick glance down at my chest answered my apparel question. Everything remained properly covered. But if he was looking, or I had been exposed, would his perusal bother me?.

Reaping hell. Why was I even entertaining such a thought?.

He released a deep breath. “You’re really not going to tell us how you did it? Give us any insight or special tips learned from your accomplished parents?”.

Intrigue overlayed any hint of frustration or rudeness evident in his tone, but his attempted friendliness would not fool me. Never again would he easily lead me into one of his traps. Nothing I said could help him become a better reaper. I’d keep my secrets to myself..

“Or…” A sliver of a wicked grin curled his lips. “Could it be you had the help of Thanatos himself?”.

My brow pressed down, and my jaw tightened. Not only had no one seen Thanatos, the God of Death, in gods knew how long, but the likelihood he’d lift a finger to help a newbie such as myself fell somewhere between zero and point one percent..

“There’s nothing to tell. Besides”―I turned to fully face him―“your parents are just as accomplished as mine, and your dad thinks I cheated. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”.

“Seriously?” He arched his eyebrows as he shifted his weight deeper into the shared armrest. “My dad is a fool, as is yours, continuing a generations-old feud simply because, why…?” He thrust his arm across my lap as if to present evidence only visible with the mind’s eye. “My great-great-grandfather did something to your great-great-grandfather, and your great-great-grandfather retaliated. The notion is petty and—dare I say—stupid.” He dipped his head and shook it. “I’m rather tired of the utter ridiculousness of it all. You should be, too.”.

A tiny gasp fought to break free from my throat, only I held it captive, unwilling to display any sense of surprise in front of him…a Badden..

Questioning the feud, my father, or even my loathing for Chace wasn’t a contemplatable concept, given my family dynamics and conditioning. I had learned to accept the situation as it stood..

After all, he had shoved me into a shark tank during a reaping lesson at an aquarium. That act surely cemented his commitment to the continued rivalry. He’d professed the incident had been an accident—an excuse I had refused to buy. As they say, like father like son, and as I understood things, his father was a real piece of work. Plus, Chace’s friends had snickered a tad too hard at my predicament..

After that, how could I feel anything other than disdain for the guy?.

I averted my gaze, unable to continue looking at him, because… Well, just because..

Rubbing my damaged palm became my anchor—the stone holding my emotions from reaching my expression. Only the constant motion of my massage worked against me, drawing his attention..

He grabbed my arm and yanked my hand close, exposing my bruised palm..

“That doesn’t exactly look like nothing.” He coasted his thumb across my maimed skin, causing me to jerk. His gaze narrowed. “You’re holding back. What really happened?”.

“Nothing.” I tugged my hand free and hugged it to my chest. “Just leave me alone.”.

“If only it were that simple, but I can’t just leave you alone.” His attention flittered over me before returning to my palm. A touch of curiosity and concern etched across the edges of his features. “So, fess up and tell everyone what really happened.” He dragged the edge of his lower lip between his teeth. “Or just tell me.”.

My attention momentarily fixed on his mouth. His teeth dragging over his lower lip… Those mouthwatering, expressive lips..

Oh, reap me twice over. What was I doing?.

I shook my thoughts straight and crossed my arms..

I could be wrong, but I thought his grin kicked up a notch..

Go away go away go away..

Mentally wishing him out of sight played on repeat in my head. If only I wielded the power to bring such magic to fruition..

“Come on, Raven.” He lightly punched my upper arm. “Help me out.”.

Was he seriously asking me to help him improve his reaping skills? He didn’t need help. He already ranked good on the required task skills—great, even. Probably one of the best and he knew it. Clearly relished the fact..

So, no, he wasn’t seeking help. Within his probe, I detected a plea to trap me in a situation he could exploit, or…possibly gain my assistance in irritating our fathers? Two things I had no intention of doing..

“Stop it.” I pulled away from him..

My blood fizzed, turned to a boil, and warmed my skin to excess..

A wild smirk stretched his mouth, planting a sparkle in his eyes. “Success doesn’t come from quitting. And I’m never quitting.”.

“It was a blunder. Okay?” I stiffened at my unexpected admission, and I pressed my arms against the armrest with the force of an iron rod. “Now leave me alone. You have no right to touch me, and you stink.”.

The second part was a lie. He, in fact, smelled rather dreamy, but maybe planting the mere thought in his head would encourage him to keep his distance. Move to a different seat..

“First of all, sorry. And second”―he raised his hands apologetically, even as he covertly tilted his nose into his shoulder and took a whiff. He snapped straight, slapping his hand to his chest, and dropped his mouth agape, popping his eyes a little too wide―“ouch.”.

I fought a smile struggling to break free at his absurd acting job and clear willingness to play along, not argue the state of his bodily aroma..

“But you know,” he continued, “I suspect something was up with your collection yesterday. What exactly went down?”.

“For the love of all demons, leave me the devil alone.” No longer feeling the urge to smile, I curled my hand into a tight fist..

His refusal to drop the subject bordered on irritating, and I wanted to punch him for continuing the line of questioning. If word of this exchange or my use of the object got back to my father, my family would bury me ten feet underground before—.

“Miss Gunn.” Superior Grim’s voice boomed over the room. “Mr. Badden. Do you have anything you’d like to share with the group?”.

My body jerked forward. My words trapped in my throat; I shook my head..

“Nope,” Chace said with a sense of ease and relaxed into the curve of his seat. “Don’t think so.”.

Anticipation filled the room, everyone’s attention bouncing back and forth between me, Chace, and Superior Grim..

Screech. Scraaaaape..

The side door to the stage opened wide, and two reapers wearing black suits stepped into the room. They looked like old-school door-to-door human salesmen, complete with a name tag pressed to each of their chests..

The distance between us left the names scribbled on the tags illegible. But I didn’t need to read them. I knew exactly who they were—a unique division of reapers known as The Johnsons, simply because every name tag said Hello my name is Mr. Johnson..

I sometimes wondered if the stickered name started as a joke, only to have it become their designation. I once asked my parents, but neither of them knew the answer.

The two reapers handed Superior Grim a semi-thick folder and said something too low for anyone beyond the podium to hear..

A strong expression of contemplation clung to Superior Grim. He glanced over a note attached to the file, then over the attending reapers in the room, his focus pausing on me and Chace for a brief moment, before returning his attention to the new arrivals..

He crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash, then gave The Johnsons a curt nod. Without further exchange, they left the room..

Superior Grim flipped open the folder and thumbed through the pages..

Chace slumped in his seat. “The Johnsons have no business being here. Though, their boss is a serious hardhead with little respect for the chain of command.”.

Chace would know, given said boss was his uncle. If one asked my father’s opinion, the boss, Chace’s uncle, was more than a hardhead. Mortifier was conniving and manipulative..

“Like you?” I countered, attempting to quell the tension in my gut with humor..

“Funny.” Chace faked a smile that didn’t reach his eyes..

I flinched back from his forced expression as a realization slapped me upside the head. He might actually know how The Johnsons got their name. Of course, I had no intention of asking him. Now or later..

His expression dropped with a groan that seemed to run the course of his entire body. “They primarily deal in the extraordinary. Wonder what they were doing here.”.

My gut double and triple knotted. Not just because The Johnsons had visited our reaper division, but because, for the first time ever in my awareness of the Gunn-Badden family relationship, Chace appeared to be just Chace, and I was just Raven..

No snarky comments waiting to drop. No traps about to be sprung. Merely two seemingly unsettled, low-level reapers..

Although short-lived, less than a heartbeat, the moment became part of our shared history..

Superior Grim closed the folder with a heavy flop and tapped his splayed fingers upon the file. His gaze rose to the surrounding class. “Case file for the Royal Citadel of Veritas has been allocated to us.”.

I wanted to ask someone, anyone, what and where Veritas was, but only Chace sat near enough, so I held my question silent. Although… Interested in whether he showed any signs of recognition at the citadel’s mention, I casually turned my head and side-eyed him..

He closed his eyes, fanning dark lashes across his cheeks, and shook his head. I couldn’t tell if his reaction came from the mention of Veritas or to my sneaked peek..

Superior Grim zeroed in on me and Chace once more. “Miss Gunn, Mr. Badden. Since the two of you find yourselves above the need to listen in class, you’ve earned yourselves this special assignment. It’s bound to take more than a day. Possibly more than a week. Be sure to pack a bag.”.

“What the hell?” Chace muttered under his breath..

My mouth dropped open. On the scales of disconcerting, any assignment that could take up to a week eclipsed the multiple twofers I had worried about..

Knowing better than to make a fuss regarding any task given, I clamped my mouth shut.

Superior Grim continued to scan the room and stopped on a balding guy sitting in the front row, on the right side of the auditorium. One of the elders due to soon transfer. “Mr. Aldine.”.

The reaper’s head jerked forward, as if from slumber. He wiped a smidgin of drool from the edge of his mouth as he turned his head toward the podium, bringing his profile into clear view..

Superior Grim stepped away from the podium, crossed the room, and handed Mr. Aldine the folder. “You shall accompany Ms. Gunn and Mr. Badden in a chaperone-tutor capacity. Happy hunting.”

“Sensational,” Chace mumbled, the word dripping with sarcasm.

Knowing nothing about Mr. Aldine, other than he clearly had many years under his belt, I studied him and the folder he held.

Superior Grim returned to the podium and the task of handing out assignments.

He stopped at the end of our row and glared at us. “Way to get us all killed, underlings.”