They call me Grim (COMPLETED)

Chapter 9: Cause and effects

When Grim arrived back at Blake's house she arrived in her temporary room. She placed the rose on the chest of drawers and ran a hand through her hair. Her gut was twisting painfully; she had to make a decision. She needed to get death started up again, but would the council mind if she broke a few of their sacred rules.

Grim sat on the bed and gnawed on one of her nails as she thought. She knew what the council did to those that broke their rules, and she wasn't willing to risk it. She needed that ghosts help though, or did she? How hard could it possibly be to stalk around the graveyard for a bit?

But there was also a part of her, the mortal part, which actually wanted to help him. She didn't even know his name! Grim buried her head in her hands.

She'd had to discuss this with Blake, maybe he had found something out from the council.

Grim left her room and walked down the hallway and to the stairs .The house was silent, not a simple quiet that happened when no one was home, but an echoing, eerie silence. The kind that made people stop and strain their ears, looking around for intruders. Grim didn't bother, nothing could hurt her, but it did put her on edge.

Blake wasn't in his study or the kitchen. She frowned. He had to be here. It didn't even occur to her that Blake might have a social life. She walked back to the only other part of the house he'd ever occupied, the living room near the front door.

When she walked in she saw him immediately.

Grim fell to her knees by his side with a gasp. Carefully she slowly rolled the huddled figure over onto his back. He rolled limply, unconscious or worse.

He looked awful.

His eyes were swollen shut, not even slits. His lips were bruised and puffy and oddly blue. Blood trickled out his nose and ears, and his entire face had a purple tinge to it.

Grim's hands flew to his face to his chest. Under his skin his heart raced, and Grim let out a breath. She struggled to lift his heavy figure and hugged him to her, touching her necklace. In a swirl of black smoke they arrived in the study. Grim struggled to drag Blake's limp figure onto the couch. God, alpha boy was heavy.

Once he was lying there Grim begun to panic.

She had no idea what was wrong with him or any idea on how to fix it. There was of course a procedure in place for when a werewolf got ill, that their incredibly immune system couldn't fix it. There was simply no way for them to go to a human hospital, too many questions. Instead there was always a pack doctor on hand.

The thing was, Grim didn't know who the pack doctor was or how to find them. When she'd been alive the doctor had actually been Gregory. He'd had enough time to become trained enough to even perform surgery. There'd been another doctor, for when Gregory was absent, but Grim had no clue who they were.

She was on her own.

Just her luck.

Grim fumbled around, trying to figure out what she could possible do to help him. Amidst the panic though was fear. A deep seated fear from another life, from another girl, who couldn't help but be completely in love with the man she was destined for. Grim hated it, but with mortality came feelings and feelings brought memories. Stupid council for making her a stupid mortal. Most importantly, stupid Blake!

No matter what he did he would always been her soul mate. That's what had made those last few months so unbearable. The Hellish Six had tortured her for an entire year, but it was the last nine months, after learning that her soul mate didn't want her, that broke her.

Werewolves didn't reject each other. Their wolves needed each other, they loved each other. There was no turning your back on a soul mate. It never happened. It wasn't something werewolves were designed for, they had predetermined soul mates. Yet, he had and she'd been completely broken.

It was the real reason while she could never truly despise him, no matter what he'd done. It was the reason she had to do something.

"Alright, I can do this," Grim whispered to herself. This looked like an allergic reaction but werewolves didn't have allergies. This had to be something bad, poison maybe. Would it kill him?

Damn it!

She gathered him up again and they were gone in a flash. She knew the hospital well enough to find herself just outside.

She didn't have a choice.

Grim called out and help raced out, and all she could do was pray to whatever was beyond death.

It took several hours before the doctors ruled it simply as a severe allergic reaction. Grim watched as they puzzled over it, listening intently as they told her that his breathing wasn't obstructed, that his blood pressure was normal and that they had no understanding of what caused it. Grim was there to make sure that no blood test were given or x-rays. As soon as the words 'keep him for observation' exited the nurses' Grim grabbed him and they were gone.

For the next week Blake was bedridden.

It was awful, mostly because Grim couldn't stand to leave him for a minute to go and investigate the necromancer, and there were dozens of pack members over each day.

Grim situated him in his office, opened the door and fled upstairs. It was odd to watch the werewolves arrive, so many people she'd know and nearly forgotten about. Everyone had grown older and changed, yet didn't look all that different. There was a girl she'd known in school who was heavily pregnant, there was a guy she sat next to during the pack lessons every Sunday but now he was heavily tattooed, there was the old man who'd trained with her and the other werewolf children, Grim grinned when she saw he'd gone bald, that man was like a military commander.

Everyone came just to make sure there alpha was alright. He wasn't.

He'd woken up after around a day. He'd admitted to Grim with a swollen tongue that he couldn't smell or see her, and that his hearing was very faint, an atrocious punishment to a creature which relied so much on their hearing. He couldn't stand for very long and had trouble eating.

Yet, he absolutely refused to admit to her what had caused his illness. They'd argued so much that Grim had finally gotten sick of it and stormed away, stealing his laptop and obsessively looking up necromancy.

She'd found one woman who had an exceptional knowledge about them, to the point Grim begun to have the slightest feeling she may not be completely human. Grim focused so intently on her research she almost didn't hear the faint ringing of a phone.

She paused and tilted her head, nearly throwing the laptop off the bed to run to the jacket strewn of a door. She quickly searched the pockets and pulled loose the phone, snapping it open and pressing it to her ear.

"Hello?"

The collective voice of the council echoed over the line, "You have yet to make progress."

Grim twisted the necklace nervously, sitting on the bed. "That's not true, I've found that it wasn't the first time a necromancers been in this pack and—"

"This is no use to us. You must fix this problem. It is becoming difficult to keep the peace; reapers are struggling greatly while you sit there with that wolf."

Grim stiffened. How did they know? Who was she kidding, they knew everything about their reapers. They were always watching, evading their minds at a moment's notice and never afraid to punish.

"I'm sorry," she replied stiffly. "I will try harder."

"You will not try, you will do. You will fix this problem and you will soon. If you do not we shall send a more productive reaper, a demon reaper."

Then the phone cut in and Grim stared at it in horror. They couldn't – they wouldn't . . . would they?

A demon reaper. A creature of pure cruelty and anger, designed to capture the loose souls. They spent their day down in the deepest pits of torment and it showed. If they sent a demon reaper Grim had no doubt it would kill anything and everything that stood in its way.

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