Page 3 of Grim Tidings

There are strict rules. To receive my assignment, I must appear in front of the massive yew tree that sits at the very center of the department. It’s private, and … discerning. Only one spirit may enter the room at a time. Only then will the tree grant a soul to collect.

“I can be quiet,” Brad insists.

“No.”

“I can—”

“No,” I say again, sharper. I never should have indulged him. Now he’s trailing after me like a lovesick puppy, playing twenty dumb questions.

Next time, I’ll replace the water filter myself.

The door to the break room swings open, and a small blond head appears. I almost weep in gratitude. Aelia’s eyes shift between me and Brad, a knowing smile edging up one side of her mouth. She tries to push up her sleeves, but they fall again almost immediately. She’s swimming in her dark black robes, her hood up, her young face cast in shadow.

“Everything good in here?”

“Fine,” I mutter, using the opportunity to yank myself away from Brad. I readjust my scythe and my bag, making sure everything is in order. “Are you heading to the assignment room?”

She nods, then blows a hot pink bubble with her gum. It obscures most of her face before she snaps it back in her mouth with a grin. Aelia came to the department when she was eight years old and is one of the few spirits who was permitted to skip the mandatory Ferrymen training. Her scythe is bigger than she is, strapped across her back with a thick leather belt.

She is small, adorable, and wholly terrifying.

“I have the slot after you,” she says. “And you’re late.”

I grab on to the lifeline with both hands. “Yes,” I agree. “Yes, I am.”

“Well, don’t make me late.” She tilts her head toward the hallway. “I won’t be penalized because you’re being chummy in the break room.”

“Yes, of course.” I slip out of the room and quickly link my arm with hers.

Brad calls a goodbye, but I wave him off, lengthening my strides. Aelia snickers under her breath as she meets my adjustment in pace.

“I can’t believe that guy was placed with the Reapers.” She snorts. “What an idiot.”

“I know,” I murmur. “I thought it was a mistake when he showed up.”

She pushes back her hood, shooting me a look from the corner of her eye. Her hair is braided into two neat pigtails, pale pink scrunchies at the end of each. She looks like she should be heading to the playground, not collecting souls for the afterlife.

“You’re allowed to let those inside thoughts out, you know.” She reaches up and raps her knuckles against the side of my head. “Gideon isn’t lurking around the corner, ready to clock you for insubordination.”

“Gideon would have to actually be around the corner for that to happen.” The managing head of the Reapers prefers a more hands-off approach. He hasn’t been seen in the office for more than two hundred years.

Aelia smirks. “You’re also allowed to wear some color.”

I stare down at my sleek black robes. At five foot eight, my robes fit a lot better than hers. “This is the uniform. We’re wearing the same thing.”

She stops abruptly in the middle of the hall, offended. “We are not wearing the same thing.” She whips open the front of her robes with a flourish. “I am not afraid of a little pizazz.”

I stare at her pizazz. Underneath her uniform, she’s wearing a hot pink sweater with a sparkly rainbow emblazoned across the front of it. It’s tucked into a bright baby-blue tutu, more sparkles on the edges.

Whoever she claims next is in for a treat.

She closes her robe with a snap, and continues walking down the hall.

“Let me guess,” she calls over her shoulder, “you’re wearing a black skirt, black tights, and a black turtleneck.”

I glance at the top of my robe just to make sure it’s not open. “It’s a boatneck sweater, and it’s slate. Not black.”

“Slate,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head. She turns down a hall, and then another. The assignment room is hidden in the center of a labyrinth. Every door we pass is unmarked, each one painted the same corporate white. I’m convinced the design was intentional.