Deathless

Chapter 31: Jackson

I'm standing still, staring like a fool at the door after Millie has slammed it shut behind her. Everything in me feels hollow, like all my insides have been torn out of me and through that door along with Death. I'm exhausted in a way I've never known. I'm leaning against the counter in the kitchen like if I let go, I'll sink to the floor and never get back up.

Death's gone, and I have no idea what that means. I've been set up. My brain has enough juice left to work that out. Someone faked Millie's file, leading me to reap Death trapped in his mortal skin. That much I know. Who, how and why—I didn't have a clue.

And Millie's pissed at me. It shouldn't bother me, not in the scheme of things, but it does. A lot. I'd ruined her birthday. Admittedly, it would have been a worse birthday if she'd died, but I couldn't tell her that.

As my mind crunches through the questions, the door flies open, hitting the wall with a furious crash. I leap backwards, bringing my fists up to defend myself, but three of Scythe's biggest and baddest Death Wardens swarm into my home. They're dressed all in black—their armour faintly resembling the skeleton hidden beneath their skin, the Scythe symbol shining proudly on their bulked-up chests. Their faces are partly concealed in a mask shaped like the top half of a human skull, their hard jaws and the angry slash of their mouths the only flesh on display.

I'm strong, but these guys make Dwayne Johnson look like a scrawny kid. Before I've even focused on which one to launch myself out. I'm being shoved to the floor and flipped onto my stomach. They yank my arms behind my back, restraining my wrists in something that cuts uncomfortably. I'm yelling and swearing madly, but they say nothing until one leans down, his hot breath close to my ear.

"Someone wants a word with you."

Before I can respond, they smash my head into the floor and everything turns black.

***

When I wake, I'm sitting unrestrained in a chair in the middle of a cavernous room. My head throbs and I know I have a lump on my forehead the size of a golf ball. Groaning, I rub the spot and try to pull my thoughts together.

With white dots dancing in front of my eyes. I focus on the surrounding space, trying to work out where the hell these goons have dropped me. I see a grand stage directly ahead of me and hundreds of seats on various levels, everything in the same reddish-brown wood. Above me, the sky is icy-white and barren of clouds. The air is heavy with the scent of wood and rain. Anyone could recognise the theatre I'm sitting in—it's the Globe, the ancient theatre and home of Shakespeare. Except, of course, it's not. I'm in the amphitheatre of Scythe HQ, having shifted from its previous state as the Hollywood bowl to this. Pretty appropriate, given the situation.

Jeanette walks out onto the stage and my stomach lurches, a vice gripping my chest. Then I see her face—exhaustion, confusion, worry and any fears that she's the one who's betrayed me melt away. She folds her arms and looks down at me dramatically. She's a missing skull away from a full Shakespearean drama.

"Did I really need to be knocked out?"

She shrugs and rolls her eyes in a bored fashion.

"It wasn't like they could kill you."

"What's going on, Jeanette?" I mumble, my head throbbing and my stomach sways precariously. I lean down, my elbows on my knees, and groan.

"Honestly? I don't know," she says, the confusion clear in her voice. "A few hours ago, the Death realm started to crumble. No one can reap. HQ is..."

A chunk of the balcony above me cracks. The wood splinters and drops to the floor. I leap out of the chair just in time, landing hard on my stomach, coughing as a dust cloud fills the air. Jeanette just sighs and continues.