They call me Grim (COMPLETED)

Chapter 16: Dead and gone

"So what you're telling me is that a crazy, powerful reaper, who deals with demons, is on the loose and he's already killed two people."

"Correct," Grim mumbled out, coughing and bringing up more of that inky substance with the consistency of blood. She hastily wiped it onto a napkin and straightening in her seat. Blake hadn't missed it, and looked at her with worry. She gave him a weak smile, "I'm fine. He can't really hurt me."

But it didn't feel like that. Her organs still gave off dull aches, and she felt slimy and oddly constricted, like she was wearing a body that was two sizes too small. She'd stopped throwing up puddles of the stuff, which Blake had declared in all his wisdom was ectoplasm. Now it only leaked out of her eyes, nose and ear occasionally, and she coughed it up a little. She was fine, or at least going to be.

Blake sighed and stirred his coffee. The smell reminded Grim of Vex's coffee and she fought not to throw up.

"I have to go tonight," Blake said suddenly.

Grim looked at him in questioningly.

His sighed again and set his mug down. "The pack is worried. Three weeks ago every living moment of my life was dedicated to this pack. I mean I didn't work, I didn't have any hobbies and I didn't have a mate, I only had the pack. I led all the activities, was always around and checking on things, involving in pack runs and helping the newly shifted. I haven't done any of that and they've noticed. They're all wondering what's going on with me." Blake looked guilty as he said it but it was nothing compared to what Grim felt.

She'd noticed in his spare moments him reading over folders quickly, or writing something down, but it had been all too easy to forget. He was the alpha. He was in charge of several hundred werewolves, who without him would no doubt begin to drift about or delve into fights. Grim had read the history books every Sunday for class, all of which listed packs that had incompetent alphas or hadn't been able to find a replacement alpha. Every single pack and dissolved.

Werewolves were smart, brave and compassionate, but the wolf in them needed a leader. Otherwise, things would get . . . bad. There would be fighting amongst the people, werewolves might leave the pack itself or even, inadvertently, create their own small one. There was a pack somewhere in Oregon which hadn't been particularly big, but when their alpha became a drunk, dissolved into five separate packs. They were fighting for twenty years until the Lycan Council stepped in, discharged the five alphas and appointed one, it hadn't go down well.

To think that this might happen to this pack made her flinch.

"I'm so sorry," Grim said softly.

"No, no," Blake quickly said, reaching over and gripping her hand tightly within his own. "It's my fault I got distracted. It will only take a couple hours; I'll go on a run with the pack, talk to the new shifters and a few others things."

He was smiling up at her and Grim forced a smile back, even though she was filled with dread.

"Okay, I'll just stay here; I'm not feeling too well yet."

He nodded and stood, but Grim grabbed onto his hand. She pulled him to her and kissed him. She pressed her lips to his forcefully, wrapping her hands into his hair. He responded after a few brief seconds of hesitation. Grim forced into that kiss everything, all the pain, all the heartbreak and all the love that would never quite fade.

When they finally broke apart Blake's eyes were wide and confused while his lips swollen and red. They were both breathing heavily.

"Goodbye," She said softly, pushing him away. Blake gave her a goofy smile before stumbling away and out the door.