Read Online Croak by Gina Damico - Free Book Online Page A

in awe.
    “Zara, on the other hand, is a Culler. It’s her job to collect the soul, place it in a secure Vessel, and provide safe passage back here to Croak, where it’s processed and put into storage, so to speak.”
    “Vessel?”
    Zara handed her a small white sphere about the size of a baseball. Lex cupped her hands around its soft surface and marveled at the silky strands that were woven together to form its shape.
    Lex gave it back to Zara, then scanned Uncle Mort’s face for an explanation. “So wait,” she said, her mind numb. “I actually have to Kill people?”
    “Have to? No. You don’t
have
to do anything. But you’re here because you’re special, and you’re special because—well, I don’t like throwing around words like ‘destiny,’ but let’s put it this way: this job chose you. Whether or not you reciprocate is completely your call.”
    Lex didn’t know what to say. Her throat was dry.
    She flicked open her scythe again and began absent-mindedly pitching it from one hand to the other, but Uncle Mort quickly snatched it out of the air. “A scythe is not a toy,” he scolded. “It’s your closest friend, most valuable tool, and a handy lockpick in a pinch, but never a toy.” He gingerly placed it back in her hand. “Scything is how we break into the ether to get to our targets. In order for us to do our work, we need to get in and out as quickly and effectively as possible. That’s where the scythe comes in.” He pulled out his own scythe, a slightly larger weapon made out of—
    Lex nearly choked. “Is that
diamond?
”
    “Yes. Each scythe is made from a different metal, rock, or mineral. The material of your scythe says something about your personality . . . or something. I don’t know, I don’t really buy into any of that hippie crap.” Zara stifled a laugh. “Suffice it to say that your scythe is tailored to you, and you alone,” he said. “Treat it right, and it’ll serve you with the utmost faith and loyalty to the bitter end.”
    “But how did you get diamond?”
    “Beats me. It’s the hardest naturally occurring mineral, right? And I’m . . . hardheaded? A hard nut to crack? Hard on the eyes? I don’t know, pick your favorite. Check out Zara’s.”
    Zara held up her scythe, made from a brilliant silver. “Self- explanatory.”
    “What’s mine?” asked Lex, running her fingers over the cold stone.
    “Obsidian,” said Uncle Mort. “One of the smoothest, sharpest blades known to man. Used in surgeries, actually.”
    Lex interrupted before he could launch into what was undoubtedly a creepily vast knowledge of medical supplies. “But what does it mean?”
    He scratched at his stubbly chin. “Obsidian is a type of glass formed from igneous rock, found in lava flows around volcanoes. Fiery and explosive—I’d say that’s you in a nutshell.”
    Lex turned her scythe over in her hands once more, unable to take her eyes off it. “It’s amazing.”
    “And so dark, too,” said Zara. “I’ve never seen one that dark before.”
    Uncle Mort rolled his eyes. “So it’s agreed, the scythe is totally dreamy.” He stood up and grinned that unglued smile again. “But it’s nothing more than a butter knife until you put it into action.”
    “Um—”
    “Unfortunately,” he continued in a voice that suggested there was nothing unfortunate about this at all, “there’s no such thing as a practice run when it comes to scything. You just have to jump right in and pray that all of your body parts make it with you.”
    Lex got to her feet, her knuckles blazingly white against the ebony of the scythe. “Now?” she said nervously. “Just like that?”
    “I thought you wanted to be spared the pleasantries.”
    Zara stood up. “Try to visualize the air around you as a viscous, fluid substance that can be physically ripped,” she told Lex. “Grasp the scythe firmly in your hands—you’ll want to use both for your first time—then bring it down as hard and