Grim by Scarlett Snow & Tiegan Clyne

Author:Scarlett Snow & Tiegan Clyne [Snow, Scarlett & Clyne, Tiegan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-27T05:00:00+00:00

I thought I had these wings figured out. Once again, I’m terribly mistaken. As soon as I start to fall, panic violently rushes in, and I’m dreadfully aware of what a stupid decision I just made.

My screams are muffled from the wild rush of the air as I fall, and I can scarcely breathe, let alone think about what to do. The wind surges between my feathers. I can’t get them to move in tandem, and I don’t know how to angle them to catch the breeze. I’m plummeting toward the rocks and I’m certain I’m going to smash myself into a whole new death. One that was more painful than getting turned into roadkill.

Then my wings decide they’re going to work after all. Almost as if they’ve taken pity on me and are acting on their own, they flap downward. I rise, and quite soon I’m flying.

There is no feeling like it. The wind in my hair, the speed, the way the air is cool but seems to hold me in its hand…it’s intoxicating.

I see Deacon not far away, and from the look on his face, he’s just as bowled over by the experience as I am. I speed up and fly toward him. He sees me coming and hangs in the air.

“Ha!” he shouts. “Bet you can’t catch me!”

I’m surprised and delighted by his playfulness. “Oh, yeah? I’ll clip those wings of yours, mister!”

He grins from ear to ear and takes off. I chase him, amazed by how fast I can move, and catch up with him easily. It occurs to me that he might have wanted me to reach him, because he could have taken off and left me behind. He had a heck of a head start on me.

We play tag among the sunlit clouds. I manage to grab his ankle, and he pulls away, then doubles back to try to touch me. It’s like being a kid again, or a great big bird, or a little bit of both. I have never felt so free.

And alive.

I’m starting to get a little tired, since flying is still new to me. Muscles I didn’t know I had, which I probably didn’t have this morning, start to ache. I glance down at the ground and see the familiar skyline of New York, looking just like it does in all the movies.

“We’re on earth!” I shout to Deacon. “When did that happen?”

“I don’t know,” he admits.

[I sent you there. You have more souls to collect.] Death’s husky voice is in my head. It feels like he’s right beside me, whispering in my ear.

We fly down toward Central Park. There are dozens of people, maybe even hundreds, hanging out and enjoying the beautiful weather on this gorgeous summer’s day. We swoop low over a set of picnickers, but they don’t see us, even though our shadows are huge and dark.

Deacon leads the way to a paved area, and he lands like in the superhero movies, down on one knee with a hand on the ground.

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