His Name Was Death (Dead Man's Tale Book 1) Read Free Page B

infectious, making me nervous as I slipped into the robe. Only, by the time I’d pulled both arms into the prodigious sleeves, it inexplicably fit as if it had been tailored for me. The cut was so perfect that the front stayed firmly closed without buttons or latches.
    “Well.” He gave a deep sigh. “That answers one question, at least.”
    “It does?” I asked, confused.
    Joshua nodded. “The robe, as you may have gathered, is not your garden variety garment. It is a Reaper’s uniform, and only a Reaper can wear it.”
    I nodded numbly. “And what if I refuse to be a Reaper?”
    He grimaced. “You can’t refuse, Henry. It’s the Reaper’s magic that keeps you here. Either you live as a Reaper, or you die.”
    “And I cross over again.”
    “No.” Joshua shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s why it’s always a choice. Becoming an Agent is a one-way trip; there is no going back.”
    The anger started to flare again. Someone was going to answer for this, and fix it. I snapped, more harshly than I intended, “Well, tell me how this damn thing works.”
    Joshua nodded. He stretched his arms to the sides and…shimmered. I can’t think of any better way to describe it. An effect akin to the heat mirage over hot concrete briefly surrounded him; all of his features were obscured. The effect lasted less than a second; in that short span of time, however, his clothing… changed . Joshua had been wearing a lab coat over khakis, and a light blue dress shirt. As the shimmer vanished, that was replaced by a black robe identical to mine.
    I jerked back a step, shocked. A new apprehension washed over me as I fingered the material of my sleeve.
    “The robe is the only clothing you’ll ever wear, Henry—all that you’ll ever need. It will, within reason, assume any form you desire.” He paused. “Do not take it off, no matter the cause, ever .”
    “Why not?”
    Joshua smiled sadly. “The robe is a Reaper’s servant, his suit of armor, and the source of his power. It will obey and protect you faithfully, as long as you wear it. Remove it, and that magic withers, leaving you defenseless and, within a few days, well…”
    “Yeah, dead, I get it.” I continued to examine the material of the sleeve, which still felt like nothing more than rough canvas.
    Joshua shimmered again, returning to his previous khakis, shirt, and coat. “Think what you need; the robe will answer. Just be aware that it may interpret your needs differently than you do.”
    I fixed an image firmly in mind, one of the outfit I’d worn my last living day: jeans, dark red polo, and tennis shoes. With an effort, I sent the thought outward , belatedly appending a please .
    It probably pays to be polite when addressing an intelligent, shape-shifting robe—especially when you’re already wearing it.
    There was no sound, but gentle vibrations acknowledged my thoughts. Warm waves passed over my body and the entire room shimmered around me.
    Almost before it began, the sensation had passed. I was no longer clothed in rough canvas; instead, I wore exactly what I had imagined. Every detail of the outfit was precisely as I remembered—even a small stain on the jeans from the latte I’d spilled yesterday.
    Six months ago, yesterday .
    Unfortunately, the robe had interpreted my request literally. I wore the sneakers without socks and I was going, uh, “commando.”
    The devil really is in the details.
    A second wave and shimmer passed over my feet and waist.
    Joshua smiled, nodding. “Happens to everyone. I spent my first week mostly barefoot.”
    I realized that he’d once been through this, too. He’d had a life before becoming Joshua the Reaper. He’d died, lost everything, and chosen to come back. I wondered how long ago he’d made that choice.
    At least, for him, it had been a choice.
    “You’ll get better at it as time goes on,” he said with a reassuring smile, “and the robe will learn how to serve you. A month