The Magnificence of Death

by Rhea Rainwater

“You came,” I said in a hush—trying, but failing, to hide the relief in my voice. “You called,” he replied, as if it was that simple.

I’d grown used to goodbyes. I'd even come to expect them, and found a strange kind of relief in their certainty.

“This is such a bad fucking idea.” It had to be, I thought. If it made Death swear.

“You’ve tried to kill me?” “Duh." He rolled his eyes. “Well, I’ve tried, too. And spoiler alert, it never works.” Grim’s expression shifted and his usually cool demeanor cracked just slightly, the shadows surrounding him flaring around us. “You think that’s funny?” His voice dropped, quieter now, more dangerous.

It was maddening. I was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

“You don’t have to earn your life,” I said quietly. “You don’t have to prove you’re worthy of it.

“You’ve spent your life in mourning, Astoria,” Gentry whispered, kissing her temple. “It’s time someone mourned you.”