Page 25 of Death and Divination
One thing that was clear—I owed this man big time. He’d saved my sister’s life. Actually, he’d brought her back from the dead. No matter what happened, he was staying here, on my dime, until we figured out who and what he was now and managed to get him a new job.
And then if he wanted to continue living in my house…well, I was getting the feeling I’d be absolutely thrilled about that. As long as he did his share of the chores, didn’t use up all the hot water, put the toilet seat down when he was done peeing, and wasn’t one of those guys who hogged all the covers.
“I’m sorry.” He took a step back and my hand slid from his chest. “I’ll leave. This really isn’t fair to you. I agreed to die in your sister’s place. I brought her back to life. That doesn’t mean you owe me anything. It was my choice.”
“No, it wasmychoice,” I countered. “And I’d be a pretty crappy person if I let you starve and sleep on the street after you got fired for resurrecting my sister. You’re staying here.”
“Just for the night.” He looked around. “I’ll sleep on your couch. And tomorrow I’ll figure something out.”
I walked forward, grabbed him by the shirt, hauled him down to me, and kissed him. “We’llfigure something out. Together. However long it takes, we’ll do it together. And as for the couch…” I looked over at the piece of furniture. I wasn’t going to die. He wasn’t going to die. The poor guy had only been fired a few hours ago. Maybe I should take things slow and not totally jump his bones the first day he’d become an ex-reaper.
“Couch,” he said in a firm tone of voice. Then he kissed me and let me tell you, that kiss was full of a whole lot of promise. “Couch tonight. Then once we figure things out, maybe I’ll move to the bed if you’re interested.”
Wow, was I interested. “Can I join you on the couch? Is that against the rules?”
He bent down to kiss me again, but before his lips met mine, I heard a rumble that felt like it shook the foundations of my house.
We both looked down at Nash’s stomach, which repeated the protest. I guess coffee and cookies in the firehouse weren’t enough to fill him up. That’s when it hit me.
“You’ve never eaten before! Pierre’s ready-to-bake chocolate chip cookies and a cup of Folger’s half-caf were the first food and drink you’ve ever had since getting fired from your reaper job?” I was horrified. His first meal should have been something incredible. And there wasn’t much I could do to rectify the situation, either. I tended to eat out, and I doubted there was more than eggs, cheese, and a jar of pickles in my fridge.
“Can you stop saying I was fired?” he complained. “It makes me sound like I was a lousy reaper.”
I raised my eyebrows, because he kind ofwasa lousy reaper, at least in the last two years. How many times had he delayed and given me the chance to save someone?
He sighed. “Okay. Fired. I just hate how that sounds, though.”
“No, you’re right,” I told him. “Plus, we have to think about future job opportunities. Let’s call it an unlawful termination. That will look so much better on a resume.”
His stomach growled again. I grabbed his hand and led him over to the sofa. “Here. Sit. I’m going to get you some food, and we’ll talk about how to sum up your prior experience. What skillset goes into being a reaper, and how could that translate into a future career?”
I headed to the fridge and started pulling out cheese and a summer sausage I’d bought Friday. Then I grabbed the jar of pickles, thinking we might as well finish them off.
“Punctuality?” Nash paced the floor instead of sitting on the sofa. “Although I doubt I could have been late if I wanted to. We just show up, you know.”
“No one needs to know that,” I told him. “People fluff their resumes all the time. Punctuality. What else? How about attention to detail?”
He snorted. “Except for the last two years when I’ve been too distracted by a sexy witch to actually perform my job duties in a timely fashion?”
I felt myself flush. Sexy witch? I liked that.
“Loyalty? You’ve been doing the same job without fail for, what? A couple thousand years?”
He kept pacing. “Yep. I’m so loyal I broke every rule and resurrected someone.”
I walked over and put the food down on the coffee table, sitting on the sofa as he continued to wear a groove in my carpet. “Do you have any idea what you might want to do now that you’re not a reaper? Butcher? Baker? Candlestick maker?”
“I don’t know how to do any of those things. I don’t know how to do anything except reap.” He stopped pacing, his expression agitated. Reaching out a hand, he brushed his fingers along the leaves of a plant on my bookshelf. Right before my eyes, the leaves turned brown and dropped off, the stems of the plant shriveling and crumbling to the soil in the pot.
I jumped to my feet. “Did you just kill my basil? You just killed my basil plant, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t!” Nash shoved his hands behind his back, looking like he’d just gotten nabbed with his fingers in the cookie jar. It’s all I could do to keep from laughing.
“You did too. Look at it. You touched my basil plant, and now it’s dead. You killed it.”
He looked over at the plant and frowned. “I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t actually kill it. Reapers don’t kill.”
I was totally holding back laughter. “You reaped my basil plant’s soul?”
