Renny clapped loudly. “When can we do this? Tomorrow night at the party?”
“Not everyone attending knows about Immortalis, and we’re not going to be sharing it with the world,” Aleksander cautioned.
“If we took our group and the Darays into the office, we could seal the sound from escaping, correct?” Alaric asked.
“Yeah, that’ll work. Our family is unaware of the potion, but none of them are going to babble. Don’t bring Immortalis, though. If he accepts, Renny can teleport here and grab it with some water,” Chander ordered.
“A bunch of sentinels and a reaper telling secrets…yeah, that’ll never happen,” Renny replied. “I already knew this party was going to be awesome, but now it’s next-level.”
“Everything sentinels do is next-level,” Alaric corrected.
“On that note, meeting adjourned,” Aleksander said. Idris got a kiss from Mac and leaned back to get Vampyr Lord Grigori’s attention. They needed to go over the final touches for their group costumes, and Idris couldn’t wait to show off the results.
Chapter 9
There was a cartoon playing on the television Chander had unmasked from the hollow to entertain the sentinels as they marked the last day before their party, but Lich Reaper Grymington Daray wasn’t paying much attention to the boy in the pumpkin patch on the screen. Instead, he was dutifully rolling out dough as Brynnius hustled around the kitchen, making his mummy apple pies. Cinnamon was included in the recipe, and Grymington was fond of the scent, so he could not help but breathe in deeply every few minutes to enjoy it.
At his side, Hekate sat waiting for those few instances when Brynnius and Victor were so wrapped up in their duties that they wouldn’t notice Grymington sneaking her scraps of whatever was lying on the counter. She was such a good dog that Grymington felt no remorse for his actions, though he knew neither man would be pleased with the treats she was being passed. Although Grymington had an incredible family, there were still many hours of his life where he had only Hekate for company.
He’d discovered early on that his need for sleep wasn’t that high, so he never forced himself to languish in bed doing nothing. If he wasn’t buried in a good book, then Grymington had his short swords out and was dutifully practicing his skills or trying out new tricks on his beloved skateboard. While Grymington was grateful for his resurrection, it was never far from his mind that he wasn’t a sentinel or even a fallen knight. He was a pathetic reaper who couldn’t stay invisible for more than a few minutes and was only strong enough to fight in a ridiculous eight-foot skeletal form that he personally found stupid.
Those were thoughts he kept to himself as he knew that the people in his family—both immediate and extended—would argue fiercely that he was incorrect. But, in Grymington’s mind, there was no disputing the facts. He was inferior to every undead person on the planet and why he was allowed to serve alongside the Lich Sentinel and his vaunted Skeleton Seven would always be a mystery to him. There was no doubt that his position of power was undeserved, and so he tried to invest as much time into educating himself on the Council world. It was an easy task—Grymington loved to read, and he was astounded by the many races that encompassed the government which ruled them.
Although he’d grown adept with the short swords that made more sense to his fighting abilities than the curved daggers carried by the sentinels, he envied their weapon of choice. Being only five inches over five feet, it was inconvenient to keep his swords at his sides, so he preferred to keep them crossed behind him. Since most of his day was at a desk at the Sentinel Brotherhood Headquarters, he had to take them off and set them down somewhere. It was one of the many ways a reaper was a foolish undead so-called warrior.
Victor told him constantly how cute he was, but Grymington could not see it when he gazed into a mirror. What he saw was a short man with blond curls and eyes that were yellow like the weak-as-shit poisons he refused to have studied by the wizards. He believed they were inferior to the green of the sentinels and that was shameful. He was a disgrace to the Daray name, and he’d vowed long ago that he would never allow Chander to resurrect another reaper. It was simply unfair to give life to someone who would carry the weight of inadequacy that challenged Grymington daily.
“Grymmie, you don’t need to roll it so big,” Brynnius chastised gently.
“Sorry,” Grymington murmured. He stopped taking out his eternal frustration about what to do and how to be an asset to his family as well as the Sentinel Brotherhood on the poor dough that needed to fit in a pan instead of spanning the entire countertop.
“No worries, we’ll just cut it in half and use it for two,” Victor said as he maneuvered himself between Grymington and the dough so he could slice it. “Did you get distracted by the show? Those kids are so cute.”
Grymington glanced up to find the cartoon children attending a party. “No, I wasn’t paying attention. Guess I just got lost in thought.” Since he wasn’t going to be able to give Hekate any of the dough Victor was putting into pie pans, Grymington went across the room to grab a treat from the large container that was always packed full of them.
Hekate crunched on the treat once Grymington handed it over, and he petted the smooth fur of her head as she enjoyed her snack.
“I think we’re done with the pies now,” Brynnius said. “We need to switch to making cupcakes.”
“I remember how to make the frosting you like,” Grymington offered. Whenever he was asked by someone in his household to assist with a task, he made it a point to memorize everything, so he was ready for the next time they needed him. Not only was it important to Grymington that he never be a burden to his family, but it gave his life purpose to help.
Like Grymington, most of the sentinels weren’t easy to smile, but that didn’t mean they were difficult to please. You just had to know them well enough to find it in their eyes or the tone of their voice. And Grymington had studied and copied each of them at great length. To this day, there were aspects of being a reaper they believed were inherent that he’d actually adopted the second he’d met them just to try and fit in.
Brynnius made Grymington’s day by gifting him with one of his small grins. “That would be wonderful, Grymmie.”
“I’ll get out bowls for the different colors you’ll need,” Victor promised.
While Brynnius focused on the batter for the cupcakes themselves, Grymington got started on his own recipe. He was proud that he was doing his part to make their party a success, and he had no doubt that with the amount of work the Darays had put in, it would be the greatest All Hallow’s Eve gathering their entire family had ever attended. His costume, along with Hekate’s, was ready to go, and he was especially proud of the doll whose head he’d chopped off and replaced with a small pumpkin that would rest on his dog’s back as if she were a horse. She preened whenever he attached the saddle, so Grymington knew she was pleased with it as well.
As for himself, Grymington had put together a tattered outfit suitable to the 1820s when Ichabod Crane had first appeared in the story featuring the sleepy hollow. Since he’d been described as tall and scarecrow-like, Grymington was going to be in his skeletal guise all night, which he thought gave the character a level of spookiness suitable to the festivities. While he mixed sugar and butter, Grymington gave a little smile of his own as he thought about how exciting it was going to be to see what everyone else had put together. As far as he and Hekate were concerned, the following evening could not come fast enough.
∞∞∞
Daemon Lord Baxter Daray hid his smile and shook off his remorse as the Arch Lich let out a gasp and a curse.
“What the fuck, Bax?” Chander asked as he adjusted the glasses of his costume.
“It’s part of my costume to scare you. Ben’s too.”
