“How much longer do you think we have to keep doing this?” I adjusted my blouse and scooted closer to the bartop.

Kartine tipped her head. A lazy look in her eyes as she waved the bartender down. “We barely scratched the surface on the number of souls we need to get reborn.”

I sighed and jerked the stray hairs out of my face. Immortality was a fine line between sane and insanity. How long could we keep this up before losing our grip on reality? Maybe I would find out soon enough since I fucking sucked at reaping.

I peeked in her direction. “Has anyone even been reborn or is that a lie to keep us working?”

I never witnessed anyone complete their sentence, and Kartine was a reaper long before me. She told me it was the 16th century when she had died. So, she had been reapin for two hundred more years than me.

Kartine shrugged. “Who knows?” She turned toward me and arched her brow. “Did Larissa get under your skin with her comment? Honestly, let's not worry about something out of our control. Instead.” She turned back to the bar and grabbed both the drinks and set one in front of me. “I want to hear why Grim was at your house while you were fucking some dude.”

“We weren't fucking.” Kartine dipped her chin, waiting for me to continue. “Yet,” I breathed out.

Kartine laughed. “Maybe he's into watching.”

I smacked her shoulder. “Don’t even. I didn't invite him.”

“Mhmmmmm.”

“Why ask questions if you're not going to believe me?” I scoffed and fiddled nervously with the hem of my shirt.

“I'm teasing you. Chill. What’s putting you on edge?”

I lowered my head and glared at her. Did she really need to ask? How about Grim popping out of nowhere and giving me hell.

Kartine snorted and waved her hand. “All right. All right. Hint taken.”

The bartender glided to our sides and set two fresh white-linen drinks in front of us. My face scrunched in confusion.

“From the gentlemen in the booth.” The bartender flicked his wrist to a group of older men—early forties—looking as if they're on a business trip far away from their families. One in a grey business suit, salt and peppered hair, and a tan line were his ring should be, waved at us.

A faint, sinister fog lingered off their bodies and it made me recoil back into my seat. One of them reeked of death.

I tried to mask my disgust, but the stench started to permeate the room and was making it unbearable.

Fuck. I didn't want to investigate them for work. That would mean, I would have to report the incident and I already worked all weekend.

I brought the drink to my lips and averted my gaze.

Kartine leaned her shoulder into mine and whispered, “You think I should find out who his wife is and fuck her?”

I spewed my drink as a weird gag-snort escaped my lips. “Damn it.” I coughed, wiping my mouth. “You’re crazy.” I shook my head.

A smile crept on my face as I shifted to catch the devilish look in Kartine‘s eyes.

Mischievous as always. I feared her personality didn't come from who she was before she died—but the hundreds of years forced into working as a reaper.

“It's called tipping the scales for the greater good.”

“Somehow, I highly doubt that.” I rubbed the back of my neck and skimmed the group of men again. If we came across a foreboding aura and didn't investigate it—Grim would have our asses. That was the rule. If a living person reeked of death and no reaper had handled the job? You needed to take care of it, immediately. Unless . . . We left before another one of us showed up. I tapped Kartine’s shoulder. “We should find a different place. I don't want to get caught up in a job,” I grumbled under my breath.

“Just call Caius. He's like a fucking golden retriever when it comes to you. He'd take care of it and we could sit here and enjoy the night,” Kartine hummed and swirled her glass.

I clenched my drink in my hand and thought about reaching for my phone. Caius never said no, but I may have taken advantage of him a little too much recently.

But would one more time really hurt? I massaged my temple and contemplated my options.

Cracks in the ceiling spread like wildfire as debris cascaded to the floor. A gun went off and it rattled the bottles of liquor as a few exploded and launched broken glass across the bartop.