Chapter 15 The Present
It only takes a second before more questions start flooding my head, ones bigger than just how does he know we’re trying to catch a wraith?
Like… how does he even know the wraith exists at all?
I didn’t know about them until we made one. The guys didn’t either.
And why does he look so different? Why is he so much more animated, so much more alive, compared to other Grim Reapers? Compared to how I was before the guys breathed life back into me?
What the hell is going on?
And the part that really scrambles my brain?
He seems pissed at us.
Like… why, kid? What’s your problem?
It’s not like we even wanted you here.
He crosses his arms and shifts his weight, like he’s already sick of us. Then he lets out this long, gravelly sigh, like it’s been scraped up from the bottom of his soul.
“You gonna keep staring, or are you actually gonna let me out of this binding?”
“We’re gonna keep staring,” Cassian answers, deadpan. “Unless you start telling us what the fuck you are and what you want.”
The teenager smirks.
“Is that your idea of stalling or…” He trails off, deliberately vague.
“I should redo the wards,” Nathaniel mutters. “If the summoning failed, there’s no reason to keep standing out in the open.”
He’s already moving toward the old salt lines when the boy shifts, his posture tightening, his eyes turning from hostile to something wilder.
“Don’t,” he says. “Wait a moment.”
That stops all of us.
Nathaniel pauses, blinking slowly. “Why?”
The boy glances at me, then at Cassian, then back to me again.
“Redoing the wards won’t help,” he says. “Actually… it’s one of the worst things you could do right now.”
Okay, now he’s really losing us. Me, for sure. As far as I know, the wards are the only thing keeping the wraith from breaking into our space. They're the only layer of safety we have left.
So why would he not want them?
Cassian’s the first to assume, and act on it.
“He wants us exposed,” he grits out, already drawing his Grim Reaper-made dagger.
No one stops him. I mean… I’m not exactly on board with solving every problem through violence, but in this case? There’s a certain logic to it.
The boy crawled out of Laura Collin’s remains, powered by her creepy locket and some of my blood. And let’s be honest, aside from my blood, those things practically scream evil.
Odds of him being some kind of hellspawn? Pretty damn high.
He lowers his chin, glaring at Cassian from beneath thick, black lashes.
“I don’t need you vulnerable,” he says. “It’s the opposite, actually.”
…Not quite the reassurance he thinks it is.
I glance between them, my pulse starting to tick up. Something about this whole exchange feels off.
“What does that even mean?” I blurt before I can stop myself.
He turns to me slowly, and something in his eyes makes my stomach dip. Cold. Measured. Like he’s already decided I’m a disappointment.
Then he exhales, sharp and heavy, like I’ve wasted his time.
“God,” he mutters. “You really don’t get it.”
I stiffen. “Excuse me?”
“No, seriously,” he says, tone clipped. “You’re so fucking dense.”
The words land like a slap.
I blink, stunned. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
Cassian, already teetering on the edge, steps forward.
“Say that again,” he growls, low and dangerous.
And if I weren’t so confused, I’d almost think it’s cute, this weird protective instinct kicking in, like he’s on my side now, not directing all that barely-contained violence at me.
But right now?
Everything’s escalating fast, and the teenager clearly doesn’t want to answer any of our questions. Cassian’s barely holding it together. And with the wards down, we’re completely exposed to the wraith.
Waiting with decisions is the last thing we should be doing.
Luckily, the boy’s irritation boils over. He throws up his hands like we’re the ones being problematic.
“For fuck’s sake.” He shoots me a sharp glance. “You don’t even know what you are yet. Fine. That’s not your fault. But still, this is beyond anything I expected. When I called you dense, it wasn’t an insult. It was a statement of fact. Better?”
It sounds like something a younger version of Talon might’ve said.
Not exactly endearing.
Still, there’s this strange feeling in my gut, that not hearing this kid out would be a mistake. So I push.
“Please. Just help us understand,” I say. “You can do that, right?”
He rolls his eyes. “Short version? I’m here to help you.”
“Help?” Nathaniel says, incredulous. “You call this helping? The wards are down. The wraith could come through any second.”
The boy doesn’t flinch. “Good. They need to stay down.”
Nathaniel stiffens. “You want us exposed?”
“I want you mobile,” the boy snaps. “If you’d reset the wards, you would’ve trapped yourselves inside. She would’ve come, she always does, and once she realized she couldn’t get in, she would’ve started circling. Relentless. Her instincts wouldn’t let her leave.”
His eyes flick to the corners of the room, his voice dropping.
“You wouldn’t outlast her. Trust me.”
Trust? I’m still trying to figure out if he’s not a hellspawn, one that plants this strange, gnawing feeling in my gut just to make me listen. And once I do, he’ll make Death’s threats look like birthday wishes.
Truth is, I don’t know what’s really out there. Even after dying, after becoming a Reaper, they only told me what I needed to do the job. The rest? Still locked behind doors I don’t have keys for.
So maybe he’s one of those things? Real, but buried deep in whatever lies beyond even Death’s neat little system.
A demon?
Wouldn’t be a stretch.
Nathaniel exhales through his nose. “That wasn’t a problem before.”
The boy’s expression sharpens.
“Well, she didn’t come here before, did she?”
I glance at Cassian. His eyes have narrowed into cold slits, but he hasn’t moved. Maybe he feels it too.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” Talon cuts in, voice edged with frustration. “But I’m with Cassian. Let’s get rid of this kid, throw up some wards, and get back to finding a way to kill the wraith. We’re wasting time.”
“You can’t,” the boy says.
“What?”
“I’m telling you, she will come this time. Just listen to me.”
“Why?” Talon scoffs. “Give us one solid reason. One real point that explains why she’d come here now, of all times.”
Silence falls like a blade.
Then, the boy clenches his jaw, meets my eyes, and straightens his spine.
“Because I’m here now. That’s why.”
Hah. Nice try, demon.
At least, that’s what I want to say.
But the moment he says it, something shifts inside me. I don’t know how I know...
But he’s right.
Those words weren’t a lie.
And they weren’t part of some scheme, either.
They were true.
I brush past Cassian and step forward. The boy locks eyes with me instantly, like he knew I was about to move before I did.
“The wraith didn’t attack us earlier because… you weren’t with us?” I ask.
“Skye…” Cassian warns, but I raise a hand to stop him.
"That's what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
The boy smiles. It’s not kind. It’s bitter, bone-deep.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
And even though he confirms it, it doesn’t clarify anything. It only makes things more confusing.
Which brings me back to the only question that matters.
“What are you?”
This time, there’s no hesitation. No scoffing, no deflection. He just answers, calmly.
“I’m exactly what you said I was. A Grim Reaper.”
Cassian steps up beside me, meeting me at the invisible line I’ve crossed. He glances at me, then turns to the boy, the anger in his eyes dimmed.
“Prove it,” he says. “If you’re a Reaper, show us. All Reapers have scythes, right? Let’s see yours.”
It’s a weak attempt at certainty. We don’t know what else might carry something like a weapon. But it’s better than nothing.
The boy raises a brow, unimpressed. “Why don’t you ask your friend here where hers is?”
It hits wrong. Perplexing and offensive.
Because yeah, I don’t have a scythe.
And he knows it.
But instead of offering proof, he throws me under to make a point.
For a moment, no one moves.
We just stare at him, silence thick with unspoken questions.
Finally, I draw in a breath, ready to shut this whole thing down and follow Cassian’s lead, my gut feeling be damned—
And that’s when it happens.
The air shifts.
The wind arrives.
And everything starts to go wrong.
My body reacts before my mind can catch up. Static creeps beneath my skin, raising the hairs on my arms, sending a chill down my spine. My bones recognize the feeling before I do.
The boy snaps his head toward the hospital exit.
“She’s here,” he says. For the first time, his voice carries something other than defiance. Panic.
Cassian’s blade is in his hand in an instant.
Nathaniel drops the salt pouch and shifts back into position.
I take a step back, adrenaline coiling in my gut.
“Let me out,” the boy says, suddenly urgent.
A high-pitched keening starts up, barely audible but awful. It scrapes against my eardrums, and my knees nearly buckle from the sensation.
Talon mutters something under his breath. I don’t catch the words.
I don’t need to.
Because something’s forming just beyond the ward’s edge, a blur of movement, smoke curling where there’s no fire.
She doesn’t walk.
She seeps into existence.
Tattered robes flutter around a body that barely qualifies as human, more presence than flesh, more nightmare than form.
The wraith.
Her eyes, if you can call them that, lock onto us.
No. Onto me.
My breath hitches.
The charge Cassian gave me still hums just beneath the surface, but the second I meet her gaze, I know the truth:
She’s at least ten times stronger than I am.
“Let me out,” the boy says again, louder now. “Right now. Or none of us are getting out of here.”
Cassian moves. But not towards him. Towards me. He steps between me and the wraith and shields me from her with the dagger in his hand.
“I said prove you’re a Reaper,” he growls. “That hasn’t changed.”