An older-looking man who oddly looked a lot like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons was just coming down the hall.
I jumped, putting my hand to my chest like he startled me (okay, maybe he did even though I knew he was there. This guy was just creepy) and said, “Holy crap! Who are you? Why are you in my apartment?”
“We have a mutual acquaintance,” he replied, looking me over.
“We do?”
“Yes, and I think you know exactly who I am. Why are you pretending you don’t?”
I thought about my friends just on the other side of the door. “Could we go talk in the living room? The hallway is kind of close quarters.”
He pursed his lips. “Okay.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when he walked out into the living room. I followed, watching his every move.
“Marilyn Monroe,” he said, staring at the wall of posters of my idol. “She was very full of life.” He turned to look at me. “Until I killed her.”
I gasped. “You didn’t kill her. She died of an overdose.”
“Did she?” he asked, lifting a brow.
“If you killed her, why didn’t you take her body? I hear you have a little problem with hoarding.” In truth, I had no idea how many bodies he did or did not have. Charming and I hadn’t spent our time talking about him. Now I kind of wished I knew more. I felt very unprepared for a confrontation with him.
He laughed. A real laugh. “I don’t usually collect female bodies. But I’m thinking maybe it’s time for a change.”
Oh, that’s great, Frankie. Inspire the body collector to start collecting women, starting with you.
“Why are you here?” I asked, hoping to steer him away from the idea of hanging my body in his closet.
“I seemed to have misplaced something. I was wondering if you had it?”
I almost told him this wasn’t the lost and found, but I bit my tongue. I didn’t think he would appreciate my sarcasm. “What did you lose?”
“You don’t know?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t like liars.”
“I’m not lying. I don’t have whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“Then you won’t mind if I take a look around.”
Oh, I minded all right. “No,” I burst out and his eyes narrowed. I took a breath. “I mean, now isn’t really a good time.”
“Really? What were you doing in your bedroom when I got here?”
I put my hands on my hips. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business.”
He smiled, then came across the room, holding out his hands. “Step aside,” he warned. “Wouldn’t want me to accidentally touch you.”
I jumped out of the way like he was a speeding car and I was a squirrel.
He went down the hallway and yanked open the door and went inside. “Well, what do we have here?” he said.
They didn’t get out. I didn’t stall him long enough. Now he was going to take Charming’s body and kill us all.
I ran down the hallway, skidding to a stop just inside the doorway, ready to beg for our lives. But Storm was gone. So was Charming’s body.
Piper, however, was still here. She was standing beside the bed, staring daggers at the Reaper.
“Ahhh, the one that got away,” he said, looking at her. “How are you enjoying life knowing I will never be able to come for you?”
“Why are you here?” Piper asked, her voice completely calm.
He ignored her question, going over to my closet and going through all the hangers and clothes.
“Did you want to borrow an outfit?” I quipped. “I don’t think I’m your size.”
Piper gave me a shut up look.
“They aren’t here,” he murmured.
“What’s not?” I said, still playing dumb.
“My bodies!” he yelled. Piper and I both flinched. “Where are they!”
“I don’t know,” I replied, backing up as he stalked toward me. “I really don’t know.”
“Hey! Get away from her,” Piper called, moving across the room toward us.
“I wonder,” the Reaper mused, “if Charming would be a little more forthcoming if I brought him your dead body.”
Oh, this wasn’t going well. Not at all. “I don’t really think that would help.”
“I think it might be worth a try.” He yanked his hand out of his pocket and reached for me, all five of his fingers waving about like they were snakes trying to slither away.
I shuddered and backed up some more, coming up against the wall.
I was trapped.
He came closer, his hand just inches from my face. I squeezed my eyes closed.
“I said Leave. Her. Alone.” Piper cried, her voice so close that I opened my eyes to tell her to run.
But it was too late.
Piper grabbed the Reaper by his wrist, yanking his deadly touch away from me.
“Piper, no!” I yelled, my chest seizing up so hard that I fell backward against the wall. If it hadn’t been there for support, I would have crumpled to the floor. “No!” I cried again, staring at where her slender fingers wrapped around his wrist. She was dead. She was going to die. She went and wasted a perfectly good death pardon from the Grim Reaper by touching him.
I waited for her body to fall to the floor.
I waited for her to die.
Nothing happened.
I blinked, trying to clear my eyes of the tears that filled my vision, thinking I was just seeing things.
I wasn’t.
She was still breathing. Moving. Living.
And her hand was still wrapped around his wrist.
She was staring down at where they touched, frozen in shock.
I looked at the Reaper, thinking maybe he knew what was happening, that he wouldn’t be surprised. But he looked just as shocked as the rest of us.
“You’re touching me,” he said in awe.
Piper snapped back to reality and snatched her hand away. She backed up, pulling the ends of her sweater down over her hands.
“You didn’t die,” he said, looking at her with a creepy sort of reverence.
“Still breathing,” Piper said, like she still couldn’t believe it herself.
“Wait. You didn’t know that was going to happen?” I burst out. “What the hell were you thinking!”
“That I didn’t want you to die,” she said quietly.
“You shouldn’t have done that!” I rushed over to her side, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. “That was officially the stupidest thing anyone has ever done.”