Grim’s dark leather boots appeared in my peripheral, his toes edging the border of Bea’s grave, practically touching my leg. For once, Death was silent.
“Why areyouhere?” I questioned.
He knelt, his knee knocking against mine as he crouched low, fingers lifting my chin until I had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Aren’t you tired?”
My eyes narrowed, scanning the hard lines of his face. “Tired?”
Grim’s scowl pulled into a lopsided grin, crooked and too wide, something close to feral. It made my stomach twist. “Yes, Astoria.Tired. Ready to give up? Because I’m damn tired ofyou.”
I wanted to scowl, bare my teeth, and scream at him to leave, but something about Grim always short-circuited my body. My blood simmered, my vision danced with black spots, and adrenaline spiked like a warning flare.
He was tired ofme.
“Well,” I crooned, dragging on a mock pout, “and here I thought we were just starting to get to know each other.” I stood, brushing damp earth from my clothes and slinging my bag over one shoulder. “What’s another hundred years or two, Death?”
“What is it you think you’ll amass with all this extra time?” he called, just loud enough to make me falter. “No family. No job. No friends.”
He loomed behind me, dark eyes alive with challenge. Thunder rolled, and the chimes clanged.
“Just so you know, Ihateyou. I cannot stand you or your sorrow-filled presence,” I spat, heat flooding my cheeks. “Second, you suck. Third, I don’t know what I want—”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Fourth?” Grim added dryly.
“Fourth!” I shouted, stabbing a finger into the air. “Fourth… leave me the hell alone.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” he muttered, rolling his eyes.
I laughed, loud and bitter, each breath a burst of disbelief. Tilting my face to the sky, I closed my eyes and inhaled the summer storm rolling in. Sweet grass. Fragrant trees. The sharp edge of rain on the horizon.
It’s all a game to him,I thought bitterly.
“Not a game. It’s real. I have a job to do, and you’re quite the unwelcome distraction.”
I chuckled, “Right.” He was so cranky about hisjob.“I’m sorry you feel cheated out of my soul. Take it up with the person who cursed the women in my family.”
Grim mumbled something under his breath, that sounded a whole lot like ‘working on it,’ before his stoicism settled back into place, a new crease between his brows.
A piercing howl split the darkening sky, followed by the distinct sound of dogs running through the fields and shallow forest. Death stood motionless, watching me with lazy indifference as he ran a finger through the grime crusting James's headstone.
“Aren’t you trespassing?” he mused.
Was it trespassing when my name was etched into the gate?
“Last I checked, I was a DuPont.”
“That may be,” Grim said, his grin cutting sideways, “but I doubttheycare much about that.”
He pointed with one long, spindly finger toward the noise fast approaching. “Surprised you missed all theno trespassingsigns.”
I hadn’t. I just didn’t care.
My name was on the damned gate—on half the tombstones here.
I doubted the new homeowners gave a damn that some girl came to visit her dead.
Then, a man appeared through the tree line, a long gun slung over his shoulder. His vicious-looking dogs led the way, barkingand howling aggressively as they neared the wrought iron fence and gate.
