Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

grinned, and rocketed into a parking space in front of a dusty window with an understated sign proclaiming, “Cole Damon Hapkido.” Casey unlatched her fingers from the dashboard, gathered her things together, and got out of the car. Death remained seated, as did Rosemary.
    “You coming in?” Casey asked Death.
    Rosemary let out a whoosh of air. “I need a minute to catch my breath.”
    Death just smiled.
    Casey shut her door and waited by the front of the car until Rosemary joined her, leading her to the door of the building. “C’mon. I’m dying to introduce you to my teacher.”
    Looking back, Casey could see Death, now in the driver’s seat, giving her a double thumbs-up.

Chapter Twenty-three
    Casey and Rosemary climbed the creaky wooden steps to the third floor, passing an old-fashioned weight room and a dance academy full of trophies, dance clothes, and waiting mothers.
    Finally, on the third floor, Rosemary entered a large square room. The wooden floor was covered with a mat, along with a cluster of children in Dobaks and protective head gear. A man stood over them as they sparred in pairs.
    “Our teacher,” Rosemary sighed.
    The man, tall and thick, wore all black, including his thick black belt, and his feet were bare. His long black hair lay against his back in a ponytail, pulled away from his broad face. Curly hair sprouted from the V of his jacket, and Casey could feel his confidence from across the room.
    Casey smiled to herself. So that’s why Rosemary comes here.
    “The changing room is over here.” Rosemary skirted the mat, showing Casey to a wooden door. “Anybody in there?” Without waiting for an answer, she flung it open, revealing a teenaged boy, complete in a Dobak, a red belt wrapped around his waist.
    “Sorry!” Rosemary said. “You’re done, right?”
    He scuttled out.
    Rosemary waved Casey in. “All yours.”
    Casey shut the door behind her and locked it, breathing in the smell of the dojang . Sweat. Effort. Composure. She changed, hanging her clothes on a hook on the wall.
    Walking barefoot back into the classroom, she eyed the other students who would be participating in the class. The children were done now, one black belt student helping to remove their helmets and foot protection. On the outside of the mat stood several adults in hapkido uniforms—two more men with black belts, a few teenage boys with various colored belts, and Rosemary, resplendent in her yellow belt, one level up from the white Casey was wearing.
    “If you’re not experienced at this you can just watch,“ Rosemary said.
    “Oh,” Casey said. “I’ll be all right.”
    She looked away to find the instructor studying her from across the room. She kept eye contact, and he moved, catlike, across the mat to stand in front of her.
    “My friend,” Rosemary breathed. “Casey.”
    He tipped his head in a bow. “Cole Damon.”
    Casey bowed back. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”
    “Is this your first time?” He indicated her white belt.
    “I have some experience, sir.”
    “I see.” He waited for her to explain.
    She didn’t.
    “Welcome to our class,” he said. “Participate as you are able.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    He bowed again and walked to the front of the class.
    “Aaaah,” Rosemary sighed.
    “Two lines,” Mr. Damon said.
    Casey bowed to the mat before following Rosemary to the back row, where she took the far right hand corner, the spot for the lowest belt.
    “ Chung Jah ,” the instructor said.
    The class turned to the American flag and dropped to their knees.
    “ Kukki-Eh Dehe Kyong Ye ,” he said.
    They bowed to the flag.
    “ Wonki-Eh Dehe Kyong Ye .”
    They bowed to the Association flag.
    “ Kwan Jang Nim Ke Kyong Ye ,” a black belt said.
    They turned and bowed to the instructor.
    “ Yu Dahn Jah Kyong Ye ,” a colored belt said.
    They bowed to the black belts.
    “ Sooriun Guht,” Damon said.
    They began.
    Casey worked through the jumping jacks, push-ups, sit-ups, and squats on auto-pilot, her body taking over for her brain. She dropped, jumped, crunched, and stretched, and only when Damon instructed them to stop did she realize the other colored belts were watching her with something that resembled fear.
    Damon, standing in front of the class, was not afraid. A smile tickled the side of his mouth. He sent them to do kicks by the wall, and Casey was glad to evade his eyes. Trying to put him out of her mind, she concentrated on the swing of her legs, and the