Chapter One: Nora

Death stood next to Nora at the foot of her brother’s bed as the last of Noah’s breath left his dying body.

She didn’t cry. Didn’t plead with Death to let him stay like she had with some of the others. She didn’t even say a word. Nora’s brother would be the twelfth family member to leave her in as many years. None of them got easier, she just became more numb. A curse as real as the immortal beside her. 

Nora glanced sidelong, at Death, who wore an indiscernible look. It was sorrow, she realized a touch too late. It was what she should be feeling and as desperate as she was to feel it–to prove that her soul was still alive–it wasn’t there. There was nothing there. The emptiness in her chest was oddly painful. Existentially that is. 

Death wasn’t pained by Noah’s passing, but he hated this part–taking someone from her. He would stand as he always did, right next to Nora, so she didn’t have to watch her family members’ lives slip away all alone, but he wouldn’t say anything. He knew she wouldn’t want him to. Death would find Nora later, after he delivered them to whatever realm Noah’s soul had been condemned to, likely Heaven, and they would get ice cream–their usual routine. Vanilla with m&ms for her, mint chip for him. 

“At least you won’t be condemned to Hell like him,” Noah had said to Nora at their cousin Trent’s funeral years ago–Trent had been exceptionally terrible. 

“I don’t know. I think being sequestered to one singular realm for the rest of time is  condemning in and of itself, regardless of what realm it is,” Nora had responded which resulted in Noah looking at her like she had grown a second head. She simply shrugged, it was what she truly thought and the only person who didn’t think her insane for it had been Death. 

She first met Death when she was seven. Nora had watched her grandfather die in front of her, the life drain out of his eyes, just as she had watched Noah and all the others. When he was finally gone, she had been hysterical, Death settled a hand on her shoulder. The gesture was meant in comfort, but she screamed, and she screamed, and she screamed until he assured her that he wasn’t there to harm her, but to collect her grandfather and show him the way. He never specified which way, but then again that was privileged information. Or so she was told. 

Death was not as Nora had expected. He wasn’t a skeleton with rotten skin stretched over his bones, nor were his eyes sunken holes in his skull. In fact, Death was tall, with hair as black as night and skin so pale she often thought she could see through it to the anatomy it protected. The blue veins running through his body shifted beneath the thin sheen in an unsettling way. His eyes were a soft green that put her oddly at ease, like the fresh green of spring she loved so much, despite the name he bore. He wore a gold signet ring on his right hand as if he belonged to some long standing, secret immortal club and was always dressed in a tailored black suit. 

Everyone has sweet, imaginary friends growing up. The bunnies and teddy bears that talk back in your playroom, who drink imaginary tea and eat imaginary cookies. 

Nora’s imaginary friend was Death. 

And he wasn’t imaginary nor was he sweet. 

He didn’t drink tea, or eat cookies with her. They didn’t run around in the yard to find magical hidden worlds on the playset. 

Death brought her knowledge and he played with life. 

He was exacting and cruel and rigid in his morality.

He was a third party collector, delivering souls to both Heaven and Hell–carrying out devine sentencing from above and below. Someone had to do the dirty work, he had told her. Souls couldn’t be trusted to go on their own or they would linger. They were like leeches in that way–desperate to cling to what they were leaving. Over the years she has come to learn Death was wildly unbiased, he didn’t care who he was collecting or where they were going. He never judged, never asked questions. Death had a job to do. It was that simple.

In the days after Death took Noah, she buried his body. Nora stood at his grave, surrounded by prominent members of the town, the city council, the board of vultures from the museum, Noah’s friends, her only friend Charlotte, and the caretaker of the Kramer estate, Vincent. Nora knew she should be mourning her brother, but all she could think about was how she was next–how she was the last one left. It was the only logical next step to the Kramer’s doomed lineage. It would be her in the ground–in roughly a year's time–to the right of her grandfather. 

Nora had to decide if she wanted to wait a year to die or if she wanted to do it on her own terms. She was not known to roll over and go quietly without something to say first. 

People began to filter out of the cemetery. Vincent stopped briefly to plant a kiss on her cheek, promising to see her at home. 

Charlotte was next. Nora’s gorgeous, chestnut haired best friend never failed to show up when Nora needed her. She joined Nora at the edge of Noah’s grave and looped an arm through Nora’s. Nora rested her head on Charlotte’s shoulder, settling into her warmth.

“You aren’t going to jump in there and go with him are you?” 

Nora smiled for the first time in days. “No, he’s already gone to where he is going.” 

“And you know this how?” Charlotte asked suspiciously.

“I have a family friend who knows about these things,” Nora mused, resisting the urge to turn around and look at Death. 

Charlotte scoffed, “Of course you do. 

The two of them stood there until everyone but Councilman Sam had left. He lifted a hand in farewell before turning to leave himself. 

“God, he gives me a weird vibe.” Charlotte’s body shuddered. 

“He is Hell incarnate, Char, he gives everyone a weird vibe.” 

Sam was a Hell Hound, serving the town’s second city council district. He wasn’t exactly settling to be around, but Nora had it on good authority the Archangels were worse. 

“Do you need anything before I leave?” Charlotte asked, eying Nora knowingly. 

“No, head home. Thank you though, you are sweet to ask,” Nora assured her. 

Charlotte planted a kiss on Nora's forehead. “You are not allowed to leave me, Nora Kramer.” 

“I won’t if I can help it.” 

“Your undying realism isn’t charming, but I love you anyway. ” Charlotte shook her head and stepped away. 

“I love you too, Char,” Nora whispered. 

Nora was finally alone, but she couldn’t hide from Death any more than she could hide from her own shadow. He sauntered up next to her, waiting until Charlotte was out of earshot. 

“I know what you are thinking, little star.”

“I very much doubt that, old man,” she chided but it was a lie. Nora knew he knew. It was certainly written all over her face like every other emotion she’d ever had. Again, there was no hiding from Death. That included her thoughts. 

“You believe this to be the end, just like you did when you were seven.” He stood there, in his black suit, with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“But it is this time, isn’t it? I’m the last one.” Tears burned in her eyes. 

Death considered this for a moment and said, “You are right, you are the last one left, but that does not necessarily mean you are going to die in a year's time.” 

He could say whatever he wanted to convince her otherwise, but the date of her death was written on all thirteen gravestones in front of her. Etched in stone. 

“No, because I could just do it whenever I want.” 

“I will not hear you speak like that, little star,” Death warned, malice lacing his tone. 

“Then go away,” Nora suggested calmly, picking at her thumb nail. 

“I am not leaving you alone. Not this time. I don’t particularly trust you at the moment.” 

“Did you ever think that maybe I want to be alone? That being alone doesn’t mean I am going to kill myself. That it might just mean that I wanted some quiet?” She asked him, finally turning to look at him so he could see the pain burning in her eyes. Nora could be cruel if she had to be, if it meant he would leave her be. 

Death considered her for a moment and nodded. “You have a week to yourself. I will not bother you, but I will be keeping an eye on you.”

“Fine.” Her arms were glued to her sides, her nails biting into her palms. 

“Rest, scream, cry. But you will be here when I come back for you.” 

Nora looked up into green eyes that meant to calm her and only felt worse. The only constant in her life had been Death, as strange as that was. It was never certain that she would live for another year, never certain that she would make it to graduation, have friends, a family again, but Death was unrelentingly there through it all. No matter where she was, no matter what she was feeling, Death was there, watching over her, taking care of her, putting her mind at ease. And now she had a year left with him. A year she didn’t know what to do with. A year to pack up her life and leave it behind. 

When she didn’t respond, he arched a dark brow. 

“I will see you in a week.”

He reached up and rested a soft palm on her cheek before turning away. Nora watched Death walk through the cemetery, careful not to step on any of the plots. Sure and graceful in his stride. ‘It’s bad luck to walk on the dead,’ he had always told her. A strange man, Death, but a good one in his own twisted way. 

Exactly a year after her grandfather died, her father died and every year after that another person in her family passed away–always on the same day, always on her grandfather’s birthday. Both her uncles, all of her cousins, continuing in steady succession until finally, her brother. 

Death taught Nora how to deal with people dying. Her grandfather had raised her and her brother, Noah, after the harsh realization their parents would rather not. Nora’s grandfather was the center of her universe, larger than life itself. When he died, her little seven year old self thought that was the end. That life wasn’t meant to go on after that. In an ironic turn of events, Death showed her life. He showed Nora the beauty in the world and what she had to look forward to if only she chose to grow up and go on. She learned rather quickly that living would be a fight to the bitter end. 

He might have scared the shit out of her, but he presented himself to Nora because he felt her grief so intensely, citing that it wasn’t a usual occurrence for him–blaming a shift in the ether, but she didn’t believe him. Nora was not convinced the her that she was to be inherently powerful enough to manipulate the makeup of the universe. She was wholly insignificant, just like everyone else.

Death watched over her as his ward, which she was one of two–the other was a boy she had never met, a year older than her–someone she never cared to know. 

When Nora got back to the estate, Vincent had cleaned up. The flowers and gift baskets and condolence cards that had cluttered the foyer that morning were gone–removed from her immediate vision in an attempt to keep her relaxed. An existential state she was far from. Relaxed Nora existed in an alternate universe, a different dimension. Every year, false sympathies would flood in for the family. Then after a while, those sympathies were addressed to her and Noah. Until this year, they arrived with only her name scrawled on the front. 

Nora itched to rip them apart. Set them all ablaze. Scream and smash the vases. In her mind she did. In her mind she watched as shards of glass and flower petals and cards flew across the room–how they broke into a million pieces–it satisfied her, all destroyed by her own hands. Back in reality, none of it truly happened. Instead she had stood in the center of the foyer that morning–dressed in her black dress, black tights, black coat and shoes–staring at a stack of cards addressed to Miss Nora Kramer without moving a muscle. A veritable statue. 

Vincent watched her from the doorway until he couldn’t bear it any longer. He took her by the shoulders, walked her out of the house, put her into a car, and sent her to the funeral home. Nora’s body was operating wholly outside of her will, a default setting that knew where she needed to be without having to make any real decisions herself.

But now the foyer was as empty as the house. Nora was all that remained. She was utterly and completely alone and for the first time since her brother died she let herself cry. It came in violent sobs until she doubled over and puked into the sole remaining vase on the table–one that had been there her entire life. After she was done vomiting everything she hadn’t eaten, she slumped to her knees and melted to the floor. 

The cold marble bit into Nora’s skin, but she was thankful for it. Thankful to at least feel something, proving she wasn’t completely dead inside. The marble tiles warmed underneath her. The house was always adapting itself depending on what she needed, taking care of her as much as Vincent and Death. As much as Noah had. It was forever in tune to her volatile emotions–running hot or cold depending on the source of her ire. 

It was all too much, she thought as she laid on the floor, fighting the pull of sleep from the warm floor. It was too much to be expected to go on when everyone she had ever loved had left this life already. It had been too much loss–too much pain and in order for it to not consume her, Nora had to choose not to feel something. Choosing not to feel the good was easier, it didn’t allow her to hope. 

Charlotte thought her a terrible pessimist, but her friend was everything that was good in this world. However hard she tried, she didn’t understand–Charlotte had never lost anyone before. The thought that in a year’s time her best friend would have to grieve her made the pain in her stomach unbearable. 

But then the worst thought of them all flooded her brain–maybe it was supposed to be this way. Maybe she was supposed to outlive them all because she could handle it–Nora decided whoever determined that particular aspect of her fate was an asshole. All her pain was temporary anyway. Once she was dead she wouldn’t feel anything at all. It was the people who were left alive that death hurt. The fallacy of living was just that–people had to keep living even after death and it wasn’t enough to hope it didn’t cause people pain–it would. Pain didn’t reside in death, it resided in life. 

Nora fell asleep, too exhausted to fight her own mind any longer, to the gentle hum of the quiet house and the warmth of the floor.