The Sword and the Scythe

Chapter 31: The Only Exception

When Leroy came to sometime later, his whole body ached. Struggling to open his eyes, he checked to see if Charlotte had a pulse—she didn't. Wiping sand out of his face, he saw a note addressed to him lying beside her head in the sand. He picked it up. In Thomas' formal, flowery handwriting it read:

Dear Bastard—

By the time you read this, it'll be too late for you to collect her soul and send it off to the other side. I've elected to let her soul dissolve into the abyss. You know what they say about payback.

XO Thomas

Leroy crumpled up the note in a fist and let out a frustrated sob. He brushed some of Charlotte's blonde hair from her face and pressed his palm against her cheek. He tried to pull her soul from her body, but Thomas was right—she was long gone. He sat up and pulled her up against his chest, wrapping his arms around her as though hugging her tight enough could bring her back. Murmuring apologies into her hair, he sobbed, doing his absolute best not to fall apart completely.

"They say that the death of a beautiful woman is a tragedy," George said from behind him.

Leroy let out a growl, setting Charlotte back on the beach as he leapt to his feet. He grabbed Excalibur from where it still lay in the sand nearby and lunged at Anne Boleyn's brother, too mad to see straight. He had an overwhelming desire to kill George like they'd killed Charlotte—give Anne Boleyn a taste of her own medicine. Leroy plunged the sword through George's chest. Blood ran down George's shirt as Leroy pulled the blade out with some effort.

George looked down at the blood but did not stagger back or even pass out. The hole in his chest healed rapidly and within seconds, it was as though Leroy hadn't stabbed him at all.

"Wh-what?" Leroy said, his anger boiling up. All that effort for a Grim-Killer that didn't even work. Charlotte dead for a Grim-Killer that didn't work. He lunged toward George, his hands outstretched. Leroy would kill the bastard—even if any death he inflicted on George would be temporary.

He wrapped his hands around George's throat, but in his rage, something felt different. George started to shudder like he was having a seizure, but Leroy concentrated all his energy into making the light leave his eyes. The gray fog that had rolled in swirled around them like a tornado, darkening with each revolution. Leroy's gaze bore into George, his rage turning everything he saw red. In George's eyes he was surprised to find legitimate fear.

In a blinding flash of multi-colored light, George exploded. The swirling black fog carried away the tiny ashen pieces of his body out to sea. Leroy was thrown back by the force of the blast. He shook off the surprise and looked around, convinced he'd see George's body lying somewhere along the beach. He got to his feet, so drained that he was unable to walk straight, and went to go look for the body.

He got a sudden vision of George's last thoughts: flashes of his past interspersed with a disorienting image of himself through the other man's eyes—the irate, red-eyed Leroy with his dark hair whipping around his face as he pawed at the man's neck, draining the life right out of him.

Exhausted, he fell to the ground and tried to drag himself over to where Charlotte's body still lay in the sand. He laid there in the sand beside her, allowing all his guilt and grief to wash over him. There had been so many chances for him to stop this from happening. If she hadn't met him that day outside the bar, she would never have died. If he'd been honest about Peter from the beginning—shit, even the middle. If he'd told her the truth at any point, she never would have left the safe house and Thomas would never have found her. Any way he sliced it, her life had been cut short because of him—yet another thing he'd spend his eternity unable to forgive himself for.

Sometime later, he got enough strength to sit up again and pulled his knees up to his chest. He'd have to collect her body and get the hell out of there before they realized what he'd done to George. But every time he turned to look at her, a fresh wave of tears washed over him, making it impossible to compose himself enough to do what he had to.

"Leroy?" he heard a weak voice ask from beside him.

Afraid to hope, he turned to look over his shoulder to find Charlotte's eyes open and looking at him. He rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up onto his forearm beside her.

"You're alive! Oh, thank God you're alive!" he said, pulling her up to his chest in an exuberant hug, tears of relief stinging his eyes as he leaned away to look at her. The warmth in her green eyes and the smile on her lips made his heart swell and his insides flutter.

He looked down to examine her wound through the hole in her shirt where it'd been pierced by Thomas' dagger. It seemed to be healed already—as though there'd never been a wound there in the first place. There wasn't even a bruise on her skin.

"You're...you're a Grim." He inhaled a sharp breath, worried at how she'd take the news—she'd seen the kind of misery his immortality had caused.

She smiled, the exhaustion paling her face, and reached up to caress his cheek. "You know, living forever could have its upsides. Maybe you've just been doing it wrong."

Leroy smiled at her, letting out a relieved laugh. He took a deep breath, deciding in that moment that he wouldn't waste another minute of that forever wondering what it meant that she always gave him longing glances. He'd been lucky enough to get a second chance—he wasn't about to waste it.

Leroy looked down at her and ran a finger along her cheek, feeling an electrical shock that made him wince when he touched her. He took a deep breath and shook it off. "Charlotte, I..."

"Holly...?" a voice interrupted from behind them.

Leroy groaned, annoyed that he'd managed to work up the courage after all this time, only be interrupted. He turned to see who was there to ruin the moment, vowing to kill whoever it was.

The head of sandy blonde hair and the earnest smile it brought to Charlotte's face made Leroy's heart drop as she struggled to her feet and cried, "Peter?"