The shade watched from the tower window as guests, dressed in shimmering costumes with masks in place, emerged from their conveyances and ascended the stone steps to the castle entrance. As a diversion, he checked each one's hourglass while he waited for her.

When she arrived, he glided closer to the window. If he still had a heart, it would have raced inside his chest at the sight of her again. She wore glittering white, a tumble of dark red curls cascading over one alabaster shoulder, and a white mask across her eyes. He summoned her hourglass ... only a few grains of sand remained, slipping through in slow motion. She had very little time left, mere hours. He was not allowed to refill it because he had already used up the last of his options on her.

No matter the price he would pay later, he would take advantage of the thinness of the veil on this particular night and cross to the other side. From sundown until the stroke of midnight, he could mingle with mortals and not sense their unease at his presence, look into their eyes and not see fear, touch them and not cause their souls to flee their bodies. He anticipated the experience with an excitement he hadn't felt in millennia. Tonight he would know again what they fought so hard to cling to when he came for them.

As the sun sank behind the horizon, his shadowy form filled out to resemble that of a living, breathing human being. He stretched out his upper limbs, spreading his fingers wide. The familiarity of this body startled him. He thought he had forgotten what his human body felt like. A smile curved his lips then fell away as quickly. She was running out of time.

He made a strange gesture, shrouding his body in black satin. He gestured again and a tall black scythe appeared in his hand. He wielded it with ease, the long curved blade whispering as it cut a swath through the air.

Snapping the edge of his robe, he dematerialized in a bright silvery shimmer. When he reappeared below, no one would question his presence. The masquerade ball celebrated All Hallows Eve and others would be similarly dressed. He wore the costume of the Grim Reaper, but it was no disguise. He collected the souls of mortals when their hourglasses ran empty, and his name was Death.

"Isn't everything lovely?" Olivia DeBenning raised her voice to be heard over the eerie music, raucous laughter, and buzz of conversation that filled the Great Hall of Greystone Castle. "I think the ball is a success, don't you?"

On the other side of the banquet table, her friend Margot Conway fumed, a frown wrinkling her white-powdered face. The tall Marie Antoinette wig leaned perilously to one side. She pushed at it with the back of her hand, but that only made it skew the other way.

"Where have you been?" Margot snapped.

"Tending our guests and making sure everyone is having a good time. Mayor Dresden said--"

"They've emptied another bowl of punch and it needs to be refilled." Margot planted her fists on the wide panniers of her costume. The froth of lace spilling from her sleeve threatened to knock over a stack of paper plates.

"I'll do it." Olivia moved to pick up the crystal punch bowl on loan from Davy Wilson's great-aunt. Olivia had argued against using the antique, but his Aunt Louvenia had insisted. The elderly lady remembered the parties held in the castle when she was a young girl and wanted to help make this celebration special.

Margot reached for the bowl at the same time. "No, I'll do it, Liv. You've already done so much. The castle is gorgeous, and all because of you."

Olivia frowned, trying to decide if she detected a bite of sarcasm in her friend's tone of voice. Margot was tired, that was all. They all were. Volunteers had been working every spare minute the past few weeks to prepare the castle for this night. "Nonsense. Everyone on the committee helped to decorate the castle."

"But the Chamber of Commerce is giving you the award tonight," Margot pointed out peevishly.

"Only because I was voted chairperson. It belongs to the entire committee." Olivia brushed Margot's hands away and lifted the bowl, hugging it close to keep it safe. "I'll get the punch."

"Are you sure you can manage, Liv?" Margot asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm fine," she said stiffly and turned, but her leg had begun to throb.

At that moment, out of nowhere, a cowled figure in black satin appeared in her path. Awkwardly, she stepped to the side to avoid a collision. As her leg twisted beneath her, sharp pain raced up through her knee and thigh. She bumped into him anyway, the punch bowl slipping from her hands as she concentrated on regaining her balance.

Pale, slender fingers emerged from a voluminous sleeve and grasped the edge of the bowl to keep it from falling.

Olivia sighed as the pain subsided, returning to a steady throb. Her hands touched his briefly as she found a better grip on the bowl, and a shiver coursed through her body. She wasn't sure what caused the response. Why should the sight or touch of the Grim Reaper unnerve her? This was a Halloween masked ball, after all.

"Thank you." She squinted, peering into the depths of his cowl. An emaciated face, half-hidden by a domino, stared back at her, gray eyes glowing silver through the holes in the mask. A trick of the light, she decided uncomfortably.

He was the same Reaper she had seen several times during the evening. Of course, there were more than half a dozen Reapers in attendance at the ball. While the others danced and mingled and engaged in conversation, this Reaper had always been alone. His black satin costume seemed more authentic than the others.

Authentic. The word amused her, as if the Grim Reaper were an actual entity.

During the evening, every time she'd seen him, something tugged at her memory. He seemed so familiar to her, then she lost whatever recollection tried to surface. Probably someone she had gone to school with. "Do I know you?"

He nodded, thin ashen lips curving into a sad smile.

"I'm sorry ... I don't recognize you ... yet I almost do." Even as she spoke the words, she knew they made no sense.

"Is that not the purpose of a masquerade ball?" His voice sounded hollow, as if it emanated from a dark cave.

Olivia laughed at his observation and to dispel the strange moment. "You're right, of course. Perhaps I'll remember later. Excuse me."

Slowly, carefully, Olivia limped toward the kitchen, conscious of every step. She hugged the inner wall to avoid the crush of people. She didn't need to be jostled again. At last, she entered the screen room, its original purpose to hold food before serving. She opened the door to the kitchen, cringing as the rusty hinges squealed in protest. Among the millions of things they had to do to get ready for tonight, they'd forgotten to oil the doors.

She set the bowl down and gripped the edge of the table. Fortunately, the dull throb hadn't grown worse again. If she could rest a while and if she were very careful the remainder of the evening and if she had a good bit of luck, she wouldn't have to resort to taking painkillers. She untied her white half-mask and let it fall to the tabletop.

The door screeched, sounding like an animal in its death throes, and a familiar voice called to her. "Hey, Liv, you okay?"

She glanced over her shoulder as a Red Devil abandoned a serving cart and hurried to her side. Davy Wilson was another member of the Save the Castle Committee and one of Olivia's best friends. Davy had stayed by her side throughout the years after the accident. He'd carried her books from class to class when she still used crutches. Most everyone had treated her like a freak or leper except Davy ... and Margot, when it suited her.

Olivia smiled at him fondly. "I think so. I turned my leg on the way to refill the punch bowl. The pain's easing up now."

"Here." Davy hurried to her side, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs. "Sit down and I'll take care of it."

"No, Davy, there's too much to do," she protested, but allowed him to gently guide her to the chair and help her sit.

He knelt in front of her and slid the long Cinderella skirts and petticoats above her knee. "Hey, we've done this enough times to know it helps."

Olivia leaned back and closed her eyes while his strong hands worked their magic on the taut muscles of her calf and thigh. Sometimes, Davy's patient ministrations helped when the strongest medication didn't, and his imperturbable personality always calmed her.

She sighed. "I'm sorry I'm such a klutz--"

"Don't be silly," he said soothingly. "We'll have you fixed up in no time, just like always."

Olivia could have sat there all evening and let him massage her leg, but they needed to attend to the guests. After a few more minutes, she opened her eyes. "It feels much better now. Thank you."

"No problem." Davy straightened her costume and stood. "Why don't you use one of the back rooms to rest a while?"

She shook her head. "There's too much to do."

"I'll fill the punch bowl and take it out with the food." He lifted the bowl from the table and set it on the serving cart. "If you need anything, let me know."

"I will."

She watched him empty jugs of punch from the refrigerator then pull out trays of appetizers from the warming ovens. When he had the cart loaded, he flashed her a grin.

"You know, I'm glad you ended up with the Cinderella costume. Margot could never carry it off."

Olivia smoothed the tulle skirt. "Me, too."

"Besides," he added with a chuckle, "she deserves to have to fight that wig."

"Now, Davy, she's our friend," Olivia admonished lightly.

He shrugged. "Okay, I won't say anything else ... except with friends like Margot, we don't need enemies."

He left through the noisy door before she could scold him again.