Briseis finally made it to her house, but could barely close her eyes. All that consumed her thoughts was the conversation she had with the dark stranger in the ambulance. Her muscles in her hands trembled, shaking with what she had to come to terms with. Briseis didn't want to die. It wasn't just fear that lead her to that decision, it was also the fact that she still had more living to do. She choked out a sob, but quickly bit it back, wondering if she was being watched. Pride beckoned her to stay strong. Don't ever let 'em see you sweat, she thought to herself.
Dragging herself inside, she clicked on the light to her empty home. Everything was just as she left it. Quiet and empty. Stretching her body to loosen the ache and stress that riddled her body, Briseis craved a shower and a nightcap. Tonight was definitely bittersweet, with her happiness overshadowed by her impending danger. She deserved a drink.
She kicked off her shoes while unbuttoning her uniform shirt and dropped her bag at the door. Days like this, she missed Osiris. Whenever her day really sucked, at least her cat made it seem she was still not completely alone. But he was nowhere to be found. "O?" she called out. "Osiris?" Finally making it to her bedroom, she sighed. "Whatever," she scoffed to herself. Today was a total cluster and there wasn't anything she could do about it. She was a freaking witch who could resurrect people and yet she had no control over the fact that a reaper was coming for her. She hopped in the bathroom to turn on the shower, then plopped down on the bed. This was the first time in who knows how long she regretted not pursuing a coven. Her mother simply wouldn't allow it, even after discovering Briseis had the gift. Her mother didn't even offer up much about her time in one, which she abandoned shortly after she was born. Her mother didn't go into detail on the reasons why except that she needed to cut ties and live a quiet life with Briseis...and forbid her to align with a coven.
The times after her mother died was a desperate and lonely one. With no family to take care of her after the storm, Briseis sought to find a coven of witches to join for a brief time. Often, she'd fantasize about standing at the food bank and meeting another witch--a young girl, like her--that teaches her spells and ways to get an edge over the system. In her mind, she figured that witches had the power to change the outcomes of their lives. They made things happen and a group of them was formidable. But in the end, she never found a coven.
She ran into a witch or two throughout her youth, but none belonged to any coven. Sadly, they were skittish and didn't know any more than she did about being a natural witch. No spells, no potions, no spirit-invoking, no nothing. Not even dancing naked under a full moon. They were nitwits. The last one she met was six years ago and that woman was so afraid to be exposed, she smashed her phone on the pavement and literally ran away from her. Briseis remembered crying her eyes out, finding the whole thing terribly pathetic. No one wanted to connect with her. No one. So she gave up.
Now, years later, a reaper comes knocking and there's nothing she could do but wait. It's never a good look for a woman who likes to control every aspect of her life.
Briseis picked up the photo of her mother off the nightstand. Running her fingers around her mother's bright smile she began to smile herself. Her mother's smile truly was contagious. She had the biggest smile and heartiest laughter than anyone Briseis knew. "I wish you were here to bail me out the cosmic amount of shit I've gotten myself into. But, I guess I gotta sleep in the bed I made." She kissed the photo and set it on the stand. Stripping the rest of her clothing, she stepped into the shower, thinking about what she would say to the reaper. She had to come to terms that his ultimatum was rather simple: stop resurgence or die. Her heart ached at the idea of either choice. Sure, it would be noble to say, 'Fuck off reaper. You can take my gift if you could pry it from my cold, dead hands!' but in the end, all she could see was his intense, angry eyes and know he wasn't screwing around. He meant everything he said. It wasn't a threat, it was a promise.
He seemed to truly want her to live, which, to Briseis seemed kinda weird given his job. But, if he truly meant it, she was ready take his words to heart.
Briseis stepped out and dried her body before stepping out of the bathroom. She took her dripping wet hair and flung it to her shoulder to wring it dry, twisting it over the tub before pulling a towel across it.
She threw on her boy shorts and firefighter's t-shirt. Throwing her towel around her neck to catch her damp hair, she wiped the steam from the mirror. Looking into her own eyes in the mirror, she shook her head. "What are you doing, Bree?"
Hating to sleep with wet hair, but loathing blow drying, Briseis sauntered into the living room to turn on the TV. Standing by the coffee table, she flipped through the channels, not yet willing to commit to getting comfortable until she found something entertaining. As she flipped she landed on a televangelist preaching about death. His loud, passionate voice was stereotypical to his profession, but she how, she found herself pausing to listen. Looked like a 40-something used car salesman, but his voice hit her like thunder.
"What are you so afraid of? Life? Death? You cannot fear or worry on what you can't control." He yelled to her as the screen provided his name as Jonah Ramsey. "God doesn't want you to worry about those things! He wants you to focus on the word! He wants you to focus on being the best person you can be!" Jonah's face was shiny with the sweat of exertion and stage lights. He nodded as the unseen audience jeered and clapped. "When I lost Brenda and Cole, I thought my life was over! You can't fight death, but you can supercede it!" Jonah balled his hands into tight fists and flung them to the sky with the skill of a thespian. "You can rise above death with love! Only love is stronger than death!"
Briseis rolled her eyes and clicked the TV off. Rise above death? She scoffed at the black screen. Obviously, the preacher has never met the guy. She grabbed her Saint's blanket off the sofa.
She turned and headed to her bedroom, when the faint scent of jasmine and flowers wafted into her nose.
Briseis jumped as she turned the corner to find the familiar dark stranger standing in her kitchen. "Holy shit!" she hissed, stepping back in fright. She panted to catch her breath, covering her body with her Saint's blanket protectively. "How the hell did you get into my kitchen?" Briseis yelled.
Micah looked at her perplexed. "I told you I would come back for your answer."
She coughed, trying to clear the uneasiness from her throat. "Yeah, I know...but, couldn't you've just..I don't know, use the front door? Her trembling hands smoothed back her long, chestnut hair. Briseis felt terribly vulnerable seeing a reaper standing in her home. One minute she was finally starting to get comfortable and get some rest, the next a tall, blonde angel of death is leaning against her kitchen counter staring at her in her jammies. Clearly this guy wasn't too big on boundaries.
Micah stared into her eyes and picked up on her frantic looks to him and the front door, as if she was examining all her possible means of escape. He took a step forward only to see her take another step away from him. He didn't really think to just knock on her door because reapers never really had to do such a thing. She should've been grateful he decided to appear in a neutral place like her kitchen and not her bedroom or bathroom. Other reapers may not have been so considerate of her private space. Reapers could come in anywhere, anytime with total free access to the human world, so appearing wherever you want just came natural in the world of reapers. "I mean you no harm, Briseis Devareaux."
"Tell that to my heart that nearly jumped out my fucking mouth." She clutched her chest, panting.
"I have a proposition to tell you. Please sit down."
Briseis looked over at the sofa then back to the piercing blues of the reaper and shrugged. If he was trying to let her get comfortable, he could forget it. He basically sucked all the air outta the room. "Um, if it's all the same to you, I prefer to stand."
Frustration threatened to escalate his voice. It was indeed, one of the rare occasions he didn't want her to be frightened of him. "Fine." Micah began to slowly walk around the island in her kitchen. "Before you agree to anything, I need to tell you I have made amendments that you need to agree before we can go any further." The gentle clomp of his boots against her hardwood floor echoed in her ears as his black clothed body swaggered to her. Briseis tightened the blanket to her chest as she felt the chilly, dark aura surrounding him.
As he moved closer to her, the caution slightly ebbed to curiosity, admiring the subtle features of his face from the bright alluring eyes to the tempting, well-formed shape of his lips. His slightly wavy blonde hair seemed to shine in any light angle and Briseis wondered how the strands would feel between her fingers. In one brief instant, her curious thoughts ran terribly wild and imagined gripping a handful of that silken hair as he tasted her lips. She wondered if they would be warm like a human, or cold like she imagined death would feel.
She rang her hands trying to come to her senses. What the hell is wrong with me? Is this is what desperation and months of no sex has lead me? Lusting after the Grim Reaper? A being who is ready to exact vengeance for breaking their stupid rules? Briseis cringed at her internal reprimanding. She definitely needed some help. Maybe her head doctor knew a good shrink. She was sure to need one after all of this.
"Okay. What amendments?" Briseis stood calm, her eyes trained on him, no longer caring if she was rudely staring at him. After all, he was the one intruding into her life, giving her ultimatums. He had no right to expect her to trust him. I know where all the knives are in this kitchen, buddy.
Micah found himself standing in front of her, inches away from her. Close enough to smell the rose otto and bergamot oil on her skin. Finally becoming aware of his proximity, he took a step back. Why the hell am I all over her? , he thought to himself. Just back up and stop being weird. "I realize that a witch who has done this for so long may have a hard time letting go. Once again, you are not an enemy, Briseis Devareaux, just an offender." He put his hands in his pockets. "I know this is not what you want to hear, but there is no reality where you will get to perform resurgence after our agreement is fulfilled. However, instead of asking you to relinquish your gift right now, I'm giving you the option to keep it for 14 days."
Briseis shook her head, puzzled. "I don't understand. You mean I'm not relinquishing my powers tonight?"
"No. In two weeks time. By then, you will become privy to the fall of your actions as we agreed and can resurrect under my supervision. Once our time is up, you will perform a blood oath, swearing your vow to forever relinquish your power. To perform it again afterwards will mean your death and eternal torment. Do you accept?"
Briseis stood quiet for a moment looking away from him, hearing her heart beating against her chest. "Do I even have a choice?" she retorted with bitterness.
Micah frowned hearing the bit of contempt in her voice. "You always have a choice, Briseis Devareaux. It is the outcome of those choices that are displeasing to you, I realize." He moved past her towards the living room, looking around as if he was studying it. Micah perused the coffee table cluttered with mail, the uniform shirts laid across the arm of the sofa. "But this is it. This is all I can offer you and if you reject, the alternative is out of my hands. So, do you accept?"
A million synapses fired in Briseis, trying to process what he was offering her. He was offering her time. Time to understand why her power was such a threat to his kind. Time to adjust to making such a sacrifice. She met his eyes as something else lit up into her mind. This could be, perhaps a silver lining. It would also be time to convince him that relinquishing her gift could be a big mistake. If he could just understand all the good and joy she's brought back to the world, it could be enough to make the reaper and his superior perhaps rethink their judgement of her. It was worth a try, at least. Besides, she was a freaking witch with a reaper in her kitchen. Stranger shit has happened.
Briseis slowly backed up and plopped down on the club chair directly behind her. "Sooo, you're giving me a grace period, before you tell me to stop forever?"
"Yes. Just giving you time to adjust." He slowly shook his head in warning. "Not to go on some sort of spree, Briseis Devareaux."
Her face crinkled at his assumption. Did he really just say that? Briseis looked up at him, her turquoise eyes thin slits. "I wouldn't do something like that."
Micah held up his hands. "I'm just laying down the ground rules."
"Do you think I just fly around on my kitchen broomstick and cruise funeral homes and hospitals looking to resurrect every Tom, Dick & Jane that is ready to go six feet under? Is that what you think I do?" Briseis couldn't shake the anger building within her at his offensive implication. It started to throb her head in that awful warning. No wonder she had a reaper pissed off at her, threatening and crashing into her life. They seemed to think the worst of her.
Micah's eyes widened at her response. Clearly, she was offended and he didn't understand why. His voice icy, he replied. "That is not what I was saying."
Briseis shot up throwing her blanket down, her anger forgetting she was mildly clothed. "Cause if that's what you really think, then you and Mr. Death clearly don't know anything about me!" She pointed her finger at him as he stared at her. "Despite what you may think of me, I'm not some reckless asshole going around turning the world upside-down for my amusement!"
Micah cleared his throat, and tried to look everywhere but below her neck. Her t-shirt was neither as long nor as dry as he thought. The light green shirt pulled tight against her, showing a rather bold outline of her breasts. Her shorts, if you could call it that, looked more like underwear as it formed to the curves of her body. He's seen thousands of bodies--all shapes, sizes, condition--so her exposure should have been nothing more than a shrug to him. A feeling of nonchalance. But there, as Micah admired the contours of her body, the freckles on her skin, such a cavalier feeling did not greet him, but another.
Awkwardness.
Quickly, he reached down to grab the blanket to hand to her, when she rudely snatched it and pulled it to her with a flustered sigh.
He stepped closer. "Sorry, don't be offended. I was only--" Micah stopped speaking as he watched Briseis slump back down onto the club chair, with her head in her head. A low groan escaped her lips. "Are you alright?"
Briseis began to pant as the throb began to radiate across the left side of her head. Pulsating pain pumping across, making it hard to focus. "I'm...okay. I get these sometimes." She gasped as the pain intensified. She groaned through gritted teeth, trying to be ridiculously nonchalant. "What do I need to do to agree? Do a secret handshake or something?"
Micah grunted at her mockery, annoyance sitting at the corners of his mouth. She really wasn't going to make any of this easy on him. Typical witch shit. He wish he could tell Saffron what a horrible idea this was, but there was no turning back now. He was there and there he had to stay until this was all over. With a sigh, he went into her bedroom and grabbed the amber pill bottles on her nightstand. Coming back into the kitchen, he grabbed a glass from the dish saver and poured water from the tap. He walked over and squat down in front of her. "I need you to pick your head up, Briseis Devareaux and look at me."
She warned through her hands over her face. Her voice was strained and agonizing. "You better not have that disgusting skeleton face waiting for me or so help me I'll retch all over you." Briseis slowly lifted up her head to see two big blue eyes staring at her. She didn't expect him to be so close, and physically flinched. His face was calm, searching into her eyes. Torn between awe and fear she sat back, squinting her eyes at the pain. "What--What are you doing?"
"Open your hand." He sighed. "Please."
Reluctantly, she obeyed and slowly opened her hand to him. She sat dumbfounded as Micah gently placed the bottle she once used before into her hand. Briseis gripped the bottle, darting her eyes from the bottle to the reaper in front of her. She slowly opened the bottle and shook two pills out and popped them into her mouth. "How did you--" she mumbled but trailed off as Micah handed her the glass of water. She gently took it from him, briefly touching his hand as she grasped it and pulled it to her lips. Micah watched her features soften briefly as she set the glass down on the end table.
Micah stood up, his shadow casting over her. At that moment, he couldn't read her face, but instead reveled in the fact she hadn't insulted him or ran away. "You just have to say 'I accept'.
Her migraine rocking into high gear, she wasn't in any position to refuse nor engage in small talk. She needed quiet and she needed darkness ASAP. Briseis slowly stood up, one hand holding her blanket around her as she faced him. "I accept."
Before Micah knew it, she grabbed his hand and gave it a two-pump shake. He froze at her warm hand gripping his, surprised she dared touch him. The feel of her soft skin touching him felt foreign but kind.
"Deal." She cocked her head at the feel of his skin. He was warm, almost hot. Not at all what she expected. And if she didn't know any better, her pains briefly subsided. "Now, I'm going to seek the cave that is my bedroom." Briseis released his hand. The pain came rushing back so she stumbled her way to her room and shut the door. She leaned against it, panting "Please go out the way you came in!"
Micah examined his hand before looking up as she closed her bedroom door. He hated staying on the mortal coil. It was so dangerous to them. He'd seen the toughest, most wise reapers fall to overexposure of the living and Micah refused for it to happen to him. This was a job. A mission that had to be completed, and that was it. Briseis Devareaux was a renegade witch, nothing more. She was suffering through a migraine and though he wanted to do something else about it, he wasn't in the position to break such boundaries. It also was painfully clear she wasn't keen on him being in her space.
This was kinda a problem for Micah. He had to stay grounded and that meant he needed to stay with his charge. His charge being Briseis Devareaux. He groaned to himself as he saw her bedroom light go off and her door lock. Perhaps it was best she rested. In the morning, little miss necromancer would have to figure out where to keep a grounded dark angel of death.
Micah plopped on the sofa and rubbed his temples in frustration. How did the hell did I let Saffron talk me into this?
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Bree! WTF! You not finished girl! Always read the fine lines in a deal! How do you think Bree is gonna take the added requirement that she's gonna have a live-in reaper? Do you think Bree breaking the touch barrier was a good sign?