Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

on, then.”
    The cat stared at her a few more moments before sauntering into the hallway. Casey shook her head. A cat. Like she needed to be dealing with one of those.
    Casey turned around, and sighed with frustration. “What ?”
    “This place is much nicer.” Death sat exactly where the cat had been.
    “So glad you approve.”
    “Are you making a commitment?”
    “To what?” But she knew.
    “Clymer, Ohio.”
    Casey stalked to her bag and yanked the zipper open, spilling the bag’s contents onto the floor.
    “Eww,” Death said.
    Casey turned her back and began throwing laundry onto a pile. “I’m not making any commitments. I’m just…seeing what happens.”
    “Eric’s cute.”
    Casey jerked up. “I do not care if Eric Jones is cute .”
    “VanDiepenbos.”
    “Whatever. It doesn’t matter what he looks like. Or what his last name is.” She grabbed her bag of toiletries from the floor and marched into the bathroom, where she plopped it onto the counter.
    “He’s nice, too,” Death called from the bedroom.
    Casey stalked back in and flung a pair of socks onto the dirty clothes. “So what? There are all kinds of nice people.”
    “Ellen was nice.”
    Casey stopped, sinking down onto her heels, running a hand over her face. “That poor woman. I wish…” She shook her head.
    “What? That you could’ve taken her place?”
    “Of course not.”
    Death hesitated, but let it go. “Eric seemed surprised she killed herself.”
    “He did, didn’t he?”
    “Said he didn’t think she would’ve done it.”
    Casey grabbed her bag and stood up. “No one likes to think someone they know would commit suicide.” She took the backpack and stashed it in the wardrobe.
    “No. No, they don’t. Sometimes it’s even hard for me.”
    Casey snorted. “Right.”
    “Hey, who do you think I am?”
    “Death.”
    “Well, yes, but who else?”
    “You mean, like, the Grim Reaper?”
    Death nodded.
    “I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve studied it.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Casey rolled her eyes. “Okay. Azriel, the Angel of Death.”
    “Also known as the hand of God.”
    “Whatever. Thanatos? Isn’t that one? And La Muerte. And the Fourth Horseman of the Apocolypse.”
    Death’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t like horses. Any others?”
    “L’Ankou?”
    “Very good. But I’m thinking of nicer names. Like Eternal Rest. Or the Gatherer. Or the Help of God.”
    “Trying to make yourself into something good?”
    Death smiled gently. “But Casey, I am something good. Maybe I’m not always welcome, or arrive always at the right time, but I’m not ultimately bad.”
    “Yeah, well, tell it to the judge.”
    Death pointed toward the ceiling. “Believe me, I have.”
    “Fine. But what’s your point?”
    “My point is that I’m not the easy way out. But then, I think you know that, don’t you?”
    A rush of emotion hit Casey, and she doubled over, arms crossed over her stomach. She fell to her knees onto the laundry pile, tipping over onto the carpet. Her head filled with the sound of static. The smell of burning rubber…the sound of wrenching metal…the sting of tears…the ache of her breasts as she gazed into the silent coffin…
    No. Death was not the easy way out.
    But sometimes, God knew, it would’ve been welcome.

Chapter Nine
    “Lillian?” Casey peered around what seemed to be the kitchen door. She’d been drawn downstairs by the smell of food, and it was coming from the other side of that doorway.
    The woman standing over the stove took up about a quarter of the space Rosemary had, and her clothes and hair lacked the shock value. Her smile, however, was just as wide. “Come in, come in. You must be our new guest.”
    “Yes. Casey.”
    “Well, Casey, are you hungry?”
    “Actually, I am.” She had fallen asleep on her floor and awakened an hour later with a kink in her back, and a growling stomach. After a quick face-washing, she’d made her way downstairs.
    “You’re welcome to have lunch with us,” Lillian said. “I know it’s a bit late for it, going on one-thirty, but it’s hard to find time for eating when there are so many other things to do.” She waved her over to the table. “Rosemary will be here in just a minute. She’s at her hapkido class.”
    Casey let go with an involuntary laugh.
    Lillian smiled. “Yes, I know. She doesn’t exactly look like a martial artist, does she? But she’s passionate about it.” She lowered her voice. “I think, however, her