Death's Academy Read Free

woman’s smooth monotone voice answers.
    “Schedule for death: one year, six months, and thirteen days.”
    Demien’s frown deepens, and he gives me a furious glance. Still lying on my back, I return a nervous smile and hopeful shrug.
    “I’m sorry?” It was more of a question than a statement.
    Demien’s attention returns to the halo.
    “I’ll handle it from here, Magnificus,” he says.
    “No, I don’t think so. I want him to face the Golden Tribunal. He needs to be punished for what he’s done. I won’t allow this type of chaos to happen in my own neighborhood,” he replies.
    “For what? Flinging a fish at a half-dead chipmunk?” Demien snorts.
    “You know exactly what he was trying to do, Demien. I won’t stand for any flippant remarks about something as serious as what almost happened. He will be judged,” Magnificus snarls.
    Demien folds his arm and sighs. “All right, have it your way, Magnificus. Sorry, kid.”
    “My parents are going to kill me,” I say.
    “That’s the least of your problems, you little miscreant,” Magnificus says with a curled smile.
    Demien grabs me from under my arms and catapults me to my feet. He whispers something I can’t quite make out. I feel invisible binds lock around my wrists.
    He grabs me by the elbow and starts to turn me toward his coach.
    “Oh, one quick thing, Magnificus. Since you’re the sole witness you are going to need to come down and fill out a couple of Z-4, Z-9, and PK-1190 forms.”
    “I will fill them out with eager glee,” he replies.
    I don’t like halos as it is, but this one is rocketing up the list of biggest jerks of all time.
    “We’ll also need a statement, and you’ll be required for testimony on the …” Demien fumbles in his pocket and pulls out what looks like a schedule. “Here it is, on the nineteenth and twentieth of this month.”
    “But that’s right in the middle of the Reapless,” Magnificus protests.
    Demien looks at his schedule again. “Oh, so it is.”
    “Can’t we schedule for an earlier day? I’m available—”
    “I’m afraid not. With the fiasco up north and us moving to a skeleton crew for the Reapless, we have our hands pretty busy for the next two weeks.”
    How could I have forgotten! The Reapless is in two days. My mom is going to kill me. What’s the Reapless? Take Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Hanukkah and roll them all into one and it still wouldn’t compare to the Reapless. At least that’s what I’ve been told.
    Being a Death is no walk in the park. You can’t call in sick or take days off to go to Disneyland. It’s a seven-days-a-week job. So to reward all the adult hoodies for a year of hard work, there is the annual Reapless. They are all transported by some device—don’t ask me how; it’s kept super secret. But they’re transported off to some tropical island or to some mountain retreat for ten days to relax and party down.When the dates are announced, every hoodie circles the days on his or her calendar and counts down the minutes until the next Reapless. It’s a really big deal. So if I’ve screwed up my mom’s chances to go to the Reapless this year, then I won’t need to worry about the exam to get into Death’s Academy—because I’ll be six feet under.
    Magnificus clears his throat, and I snap back to my current situation.
    “Oh, yes, your Reapless is at the same time as ours this year. I forgot. That was some nasty business up north.” Magnificus slides his hand through his perfect hair. “By the way, have there been any meaningful arrests made?”
    “You know I can’t tell you that, Magnificus. I’ll say this, our plates might be full for some time.”
    “Hmm. Very well then, let’s schedule for when we all get back,” he replies.
    “Can’t do that either. According to statute 379, you only have one week to give testimony or the charges can’t be prosecuted,” Demien says while opening the door to his ebony black coach and heaving me into