Duske cracks a rare smile as he bows over the mug. “I’d love to. Sweetheart, if you’re listening? Good morning.”
A strange breeze rushes through the house, all the air sweeping from my lungs and then slamming back into me. I cry out, pain shooting through me before the faint scent of pumpkin and spice fills my nose. It steadily grows stronger, mixing with the richness of my favorite Cuban coffee, realization settling in.
They made me a coffee and sent it to the afterlife.
I should be terrified. I should be asking every question in the goddamn universe.
Instead, I’m moved by the fact that they cared enough to say good morning. That they even noticed I was still here. That they somehow realized amidst all of the fucking chaos of my death, that the coffee would be the one thing I had fixated on.
And now I just hate Liora a little more for ripping me away from the life I could have had.
Chapter 3
Duske
The air ripples between us as the mug completely disappears from this plane and moves into the next. I can only just see the warm energy flowing from it, the steam still rising into this world. As the Grim Reaper, my entire job revolves around guiding souls to the afterlife and then letting Fate take care of the rest. Never once did I think I might have to guide Esme, nor did I think she’d still be attached to the very house she died in.
She should have passed over on her own but Vesper and Milo aren’t wrong. Her spirit is still here or at least some of her essence. I hold my breath, waiting to see if something ripples or changes in front of us but there’s no movement.
Not at first.
And then, I can just see the outline of her energy reaching for the mug, the soft echoes of her laughter carrying through to this plane.
“Is she drinking it? Does she like it? Duske, fuck, tell me what’s going on!”
I snort at Milo’s excitement as he all but vibrates by the fridge, his hands clasped together. I wish I could answer him because to be honest, I have no idea. The steam rises higher which means she’s able to pick up the mug but that’s all I’ve got. “Milo, you know I can’t see the spirits, not without disrupting the balance between our planes but she’s holding it.”
That puts a smile on Vesper’s face, the first I’ve truly seen since Esme died. We’re all feeling a bit worse for wear with her gone, something tugging at the heart this human body has. It wasn’t our decision to step onto Earth like this but it’s been easier to do our job. I just didn’t bank on becoming close with anyone. Especially not someone like Esme.
A mixture of sunshine and sass and gone too soon.
“Let’s get started upstairs before Liora comes back. I don’t want to deal with her mouth if she finds us standing around the kitchen.” The only reason I agreed to help her pack was to have a few last moments with Esme’s memory. Now that I know she’s still here, I’m banking on helping her cross over while getting to see her one last time. Hopefully, I’ll have enough power to let the guys see her too.
They follow me up the stairs, each step pulling me closer to her lingering presence. Her energy seems to have shifted from the kitchen to her room, Milo rushing past me to follow what we all feel.
He leans against the entrance, his arms crossed tight against his chest as his wavy hair falls over his eyes, but I can see the pain in his green gaze. Vesper pushes inside the room, his fingers trailing across the bedding, brushing the dark blue sheets like he’s searching for her.
“I can feel her, but I can’t see her, and it’s really fucking with me. Of all things, down the fucking stairs?” Vesper growls out as his fingers dig into the blanket. He pulls it to his nose, his shoulders falling in defeat.
I know from experience Esme didn’t have a scent when she was alive, but there was a certain aura around her that still brought warmth despite it.
I weather my emotions and force a neutral expression onto my face, hating that it came to all this. We don’t even fit into the Alpha-Omega dynamic of Earth but found our places the moment Satan gave us physical bodies.
Despite being an Alpha, as the Grim Reaper orDeathas most people know me, emotions slide off me most days, locked behind a wall that only cracks for a mate. It’s what makes reaping souls bearable—guiding them to the other side without carrying their heartbreak. Every death, every grieving family, I let it pass through me.
But Esme… she’s different.
I reach up to wrap my hand around the scythe dangling from my necklace, the small charm holding the same power as my full weapon. “We should probably start and get it over with,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “Lingering here is only going to make it worse.”
Milo sighs, fiddling with the piercing through his bottom lip. “I really don’t want to pack her room. I want to leave it like this.”
I glance around. Esme’s room isn’t what most would expect from an Omega. Liora’s got her frilly pastels, but Esme was always fun and vibrant. Her room’s all greens, blues, and oranges with black woven in. “I’ll talk to Liora.” If I press that we need to send Esme’s spirit on, maybe Liora will give us a little more time before she puts the house on the market.
Liora appears in the doorway a few moments later, her cinnamon-cherry scent hitting me like day-old cheap perfume. We all grimace as I turn to face her, wondering how she could be smiling so soon after her sister’s tragic death. “Talk to me about what?” she asks, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.
Despite how much she pretends, I can see that she doesn’ttrulyhave feelings for us. Why she hangs around us at all, pushing her voice a few octaves higher and trying to will us into her bed is beyond me.
She sets down a bag from the local bakery and a tray of coffee beside it. “You can trash most of that in Esme’s room,” she says, brushing her hands down her dress. “It’s not important, and I can’t handle the reminder. I have pictures of her, but…”
