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She swung her legs off the bed and stood up. She took a couple steps and then looked over her shoulder. “I bet the dream means nothing. Why would Anubis pick you to do anything?”
Since genuine curiosity laced her voice and not the scoffing tone she used when she thought others beneath her intellect, I didn’t throw a pillow at her head. Her gaze looked worried, too. And that kinda freaked me out. Ally wasn’t a worrier. A plotter, a planner, a pain in the butt, yes, but definitely not a worrier.
“True,” I said, waving my hand as if it could push aside both our doubts. “Besides I don’t want to do anything that will ruin my manicure.”
Ally snickered. Then she bounced off, going through our adjoining bathroom into her own room.
I fell back against my pillow, clutching the perfume box in my hand. It took me a long time to go back to sleep.
MOLLY’S REAPER DIARY
A Short History of My Life and the First Lesson of Reaperhood
So, I already wrote about the history of reapers. And I figured maybe I should write about the history of me. Well, not in a Lifetime movie kind of way. The first sixteen years of my life aren’t exactly riveting. Here are the highlights:
* * *
I was born.
Then Ally was born.
Having a sister two years younger than me is annoying...except when it’s not.
Uncle Vinnie died when I was three.
Mom left us when I was ten.
Nonna moved in and taught us about cooking and fear. (Hello, rolling pin.)
I started zombie-making training.
I survived my freshman year of high school.
I am currently enduring my sophomore year of high school.
I got my driver’s permit.
I turned sixteen.
I had an Anubis dream.
* * *
Like I said, riiiiiiiiiiveting. I hope that my future holds more exciting adventures, even beyond driving and dating. I did just accept Anubis’s offer of extra gifts, but I had brain fail in the dream.
So here’s the first lesson of being a reaper in training.
Ask questions.
I haven’t known Anubis long, but I don’t think he’d mind if you posed a query or two about what to expect when you agree to serve him. Here are few questions, you might want to ask:
What does serving you mean exactly?
How do I know when it’s time to serve you?
What’s the timeframe for serving you? It is...um, forever?
Do I get vacation days?
What gifts did you give me? And what am I supposed to do with them?
Are there perks involved with service to an immortal god? Such as free chocolate, a day pass away from my sister or getting out of school early?
Will there be homework?
* * *
Feel free to personalize these questions as they suit your birthday dream conversation with Anubis. Meeting Anubis is usually a time-sensitive matter, so keep your questions precise and be prepared for answers that will totally bum you out. If you don’t have time to ask him about homework...the answer is yes.
There is always homework.
One more FYI...
You will be afraid. That fear will sit like a cold, dark lump in your stomach, and it will grow tentacles and clutch at your heart and your brain, and choke your thoughts and emotions until all that exists is pain and exhaustion and terror.
My advice?
Embrace it.
Chapter 4
“The Oracle predicted Set’s return, and that the god of chaos would ruin the world. Even though humans had reaper powers, they would not be enough to defeat Set. Anubis refused to abandon his human children again, and began to choose the worthy to receive more of his gifts. Throughout centuries, a secret sect of warriors with the strength, abilities, magic and skills trained, every generation, to go into battle against Set. Among them was the Chosen—a singular warrior who would channel Anubis’s powers to defeat Set. This champion was known as the kebechet.”
~The Champion and Other Tales of Anubis, Author Unknown
I spent most of my birthday day worrying about the Anubis dream. And getting ready for the party. Gena and Becks came over early to help me decorate and get the furniture all situated. They were appropriately horrified by my Dad’s ancient stereo equipment, but Becks took over the task of burning cool music onto CDs.
We had fun, especially when Nonna started bringing out the food. We had to taste test, you know? And the closer party time got, the more excited I got and the less I worried about Anubis and dreams and Oracles.
I said less, all right? No matter what conversation I was having or what food I was eating or what music I was listening to or whatever...the Anubis dream and what it could mean stuck in my brain like a tiny, sharp thorn.
I didn’t want to be worried about it. I didn’t want it to mean anything. But somewhere deep inside, where my fears and ghosts lay hidden, was the truth.
Anubis had chosen me.
* * *
It was just after 7:00 p.m. We’d strung up paper lanterns across the eaves of the porch. Cans of soda and water bottles were crammed into a couple of ice-filled coolers, and Nonna had outdone herself with the food. A long table outside was filled with appetizers and mini desserts, and we had trays set up around the living room and kitchen with similar treats. The partygoers spilled out through the open patio doors.
Ally was hanging out with her Citizens for Zombies friends, probably painting signs and writing speeches. Uncle Vinnie was with Dad. Even though my uncle was a zombie, Dad still treated him like a human. They watched TV together every night. I could hear Daddy’s television turned way up, probably to drown out the noise of the party. Nonna Gina was out with her quilting club. I’d never seen her quilt, but she always came home from her “meetings” in a really good grappa-induced mood.
The CDs that Becks had burned were playing and so far I’d kept Dad away from the sound system. He’d been bummed that he’d been unable to sneak in the soundtrack to The Breakfast Club (which, BTW, has only one good song on it...well, one good song if you’re old and like that kind of thing).
Presents were piled on a table near the fireplace. Everyone seemed to have ponied up a gift and I couldn’t wait to plow through those babies. I wondered if Rick would bring me something (oops...my shallowness was showing again) and what it might be?
He hadn’t arrived yet, though a lot of kids were already in the living room. Some were dancing; others were rambling out the open sliding glass doors and down into the yard. I saw several kids light up cigarettes near the back fence.
I turned around and headed into the house. I prayed my Dad wouldn’t come down to snoop, because I would die if he got all parental.
When I came back inside, Becks grabbed my arm and dragged me into the kitchen. Rebecca “Becks” Fortwith had been my friend since seventh grade, when we had the same English class and bonded over our mutual horror about The Grapes of Wrath. I mean, John Steinbeck is all right, I guess, but reading about the dust bowl and farmers in Oklahoma was kinda boring. And he didn’t mention zombies at all. Not like Zombie-cide 1932 by Hayden Smith. He went into ugly detail about starving farmers cooking and eating their zombies. And the families who ate zombies went crazy, or died, because hel-lo you can’t eat zombies. Even though necro magic arrests decomposition (well, mostly), zombies are still corpses and so, are yucky. Anyway, that’s why Oklahoma banned zombification. If you already had a zombie, then you could keep it. And even now, zombies accompanying visitors to the state had to get special passes and couldn’t stay longer than thirty days. Oklahoma is so weird.
“This. Is. Awesome,” said Becks.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, offering me a brace-filled smile. Becks was the tallest girl in school and her height made her self-conscious. She was always slouching. She had gorgeous blond hair and these big blue eyes, and creamy pale skin. Her parents let her wear makeup, but she hardly needed any.
“Where’s Gena?” I asked.
“Talking to Mason.” She waggled her brows, but I could see the flicker of envy. When you’re taller than most boys, they don’t really talk to you much. But there was also the matter of Becks being completely gorgeous, and that was probably extra intimidating to guys. At least, that’s what Nonna said. “Beautiful girls need confident boys,” she’d said. “Not so many of those around, bella.”
“He doesn’t really seem like her type,” I said. Mason was a little too angst-driven for Gena, who was the perkiest non-cheerleader you’d ever meet. Mason was in the drama club and took it way too seriously. If I had to hear one more of his lectures about “the craft of acting,” I would kick him in the shins.
“She’s attracted to the damaged ones,” said Becks. “She thinks she can fix them.”
“Mason isn’t broken,” I said. “He’s just serious. He never smiles. It’s strange.”
Becks smiled. “Says the girl who makes zombies.”
“Ha.” I took her by the shoulders and looked up into her eyes. “Truth. How does the party rate on the Mina scale?”
“Hmm,” said Becks. “Too early to tell, but the arrival of football players, the cool music and the to-die-for food...yeah. It’s heading toward a solid six.”
I nodded. The Mina birthday scale was hardcore. Here’s the deal:
Last May, Mina Hamilton had had a blowout for her Sweet Sixteen. Not only had she gotten a snazzy Corvette, but her parents had allowed alcohol. Sorta. They left the house for the whole night and let Mina and her friends do whatever they wanted. That’s the gossip, anyway. I wasn’t invited, so I don’t know what really happened. I just lapped up the rumors along with everyone else.
“You can let go of me.”
I was still clutching Becks, so I let her go. “Sorry.”
“It’s cool. I know you’re dying to see if Rick made it yet.” She grinned at me. “Go on. I’ll do a food and drink circuit, make sure everyone’s stuffing their faces.”
“Thanks.” I walked through the living room, scanning for Rick. I felt like I’d swallowed a sack of rocks. What if he didn’t come? What if he was teasing me about that kiss? What if—
Chills crept down my spine.
Ever since I’d woken up from that fitful rest, I’d felt different. It was a subtle feeling, though. More like a hushed expectation—you know, like that creepy silence before a bad storm. Nobody had said I looked any different, and I hadn’t noticed any manifestation of über powers. I wasn’t sure that Anubis had granted me gifts—I mean, the dream seemed so fuzzy now. But maybe they hadn’t kicked in yet. Or maybe I was way too concerned with dreams and destiny.
Still, the chill didn’t dissipate. To my left, I saw a flicker of black. When I turned to look, nothing was there. But I could feel something. Someone. Frowning, I stepped into the empty space...and felt as though I’d fallen into a snowdrift. It was like standing in the Arctic Circle.
In the blink of an eye, I saw a boy leaning against the wall.
His eyes, the amber color of Nonna’s sun tea, filled with surprise. For a second. Then his expression blanked.
I looked him over, head to toe. His chocolate-brown locks brushed his shoulders. His face was angular, his lips a slash of angry red. His T-shirt, jeans and sneakers were all black. Usually, one-themed looks totally didn’t work, but for him...yeah. Black was the new hot. He crossed his arms, which showed off his muscles big-time. It also tightened his T-shirt to reveal the flat plane of his stomach. He couldn’t have been much older than me...maybe a year or two. Was he a senior? I didn’t remember ever seeing him before.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“You can’t see me.” The voice whispered over me. I’d been around enough zombie-making magic to know how it felt. And his command held magic. Oh, no, he did not. What kind of necro-idiot tried to use his mojo on a living person? Did I look like a corpse? No, TYVM.
“Hel-lo,” I said, irritated. “I’m looking right at you.”
One chocolate eyebrow rose. He studied me, taking in my red short-sleeved cowl-neck top, faded blue jeans and black peep-toed shoes. Hmm. Was I imagining it, or was his gaze lingering on my cleavage? His eyes meandered back to mine. “You’re new.”
“I’m new? I’m standing in my own house, where I’ve lived my whole life.”
He looked at me, one eyebrow raised, his gaze assessing. “Definitely new. And mortal, too.”
“Mortal?” I asked. “You mean like every breathing human being on earth?” Sheesh. I didn’t know him, but that didn’t mean much. Some of the people I’d invited had brought along friends who attended different schools. I couldn’t quite get over the weirdness that he seemed perplexed by the fact I was an actual human being. He peered closer, as if doing so might give him a better view of my so-called mortality.
“This is...unexpected,” he said.
He was kinda creeping me out, especially the way he was looking at me—as though I was some kind of science experiment gone terribly wrong. I put my hand on my hip. “So, who are you?” I asked.
For a moment, he looked like he wasn’t going to tell me. Then he said, “Rath.”
“Rath?” I know I looked skeptical because...c’mon. Rath? Who names their kid Rath? “I’m Molly.”
“Molly. Never met anyone like you. You’re odd.”
My mouth dropped open, and I was so stunned by his comment, I couldn’t make with the words. Then Rath looked around, his expression tense. “This is my show tonight, rewbie. Got it?”
What was he talking about? And what was a rewbie? The derisive tone he used suggested he wasn’t calling me a pretty gem. I snapped my mouth closed. “My house, remember?” I pointed to myself. “Birthday girl.”
“Well, I’d say happy birthday...” He shrugged. “But it’s not gonna be particularly happy.”
“Rude much?” I asked, stung by his prediction.
“Truth is truth, brown eyes.” He eyed me. “How about I just say congrats?”
“Gee, thanks.” I layered on the sarcasm, but he wasn’t fazed by it.
Rath cocked his head, his gaze going distant. “Finally.” He tapped my nose. “Watch and learn. And don’t get in my way.” He moved past me, taking the glacial air with him. I found myself standing alone near the foyer, shivering. Watch and learn what? I had no idea what the guy was talking about. Too bad that in his case, cute meant cray-cray.
The front door opened. The rocks that had been tumbling in my stomach sank all the way to my toes and anchored me there.
Rick stood in the doorway.
