Chapter 17 Peter
PETER
After two months at a desk, Peter was going stir-crazy overseeing assessments of future Reapers. To ease the monotony, he imagined himself walking into Stoker’s, greeted by a smiling Faye in her favourite bright green apron. Her dreams were no longer enough to satisfy his need to see her.
The blissful moment was ruined by a sharp stabbing sensation in his chest. Clutching it, Peter knocked his coffee mug over the report he was working on. He didn’t care about the mess. Something was wrong with Faye. Rushing out of the office, he nearly collided with Gregory.
“What’s the rush?” Gregory asked.
“I just need a break. I’ve buried myself in paperwork for a little too long,” Peter said, trying to downplay his fear. “I’ve left the souls I’ve approved for Reaper selection in my top right drawer.”
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?
” Gregory suggested. “You’ve been cooped up here for weeks.
You’re making the rest of us look bad.” He hadn’t been keeping as close an eye on Peter since he’d agreed to think about joining the ECD.
Gregory didn’t know about his secret visits to Faye’s dreams, or how Peter had already ruled out any thought of leaving Foxford for another Reaper division, even if he was putting his own soul at risk.
“Just trying to show you that you can trust me, that I’ve learned my lesson,” Peter said sanctimoniously.
Gregory hesitated, eyeing him suspiciously, then sighed. “Fine. You can return to your collection schedule, but don’t make me regret this.”
“Thank you! I promise you’ve nothing to worry about,” Peter said, eager to get away before his mentor changed his mind. He would try his best not to break any laws, but all he could think about was getting to Faye.
“If you need me, don’t hesitate to summon me,” Gregory said, watching him approach the doors. The only way to portal out of headquarters was to use the main gate.
“Will do.”
Outside Stoker’s Café, Peter found the lights off and the doors locked.
He knocked, but there was no answer. At this late hour, Faye should be home.
His heart raced. The only other place he could think she might go was Hawthorne House.
He crossed the street and took Lover’s Lane, his steps quickening as he feared for Faye’s safety.
The pain in his chest had ceased, but he needed to see her, to know she was safe.
“I can’t believe Ian had the nerve to show his face in town after the coven let him off with a banishment order,” Mrs Crawford was saying to Grams Hawthorne outside the tarot shop.
“What happened?” Peter interrupted, not caring how rude it was.
“Peter! You gave me a terrible fright!” Grams exclaimed, clutching her many necklaces.
“Is Faye okay?” he demanded, still disregarding pleasantries.
“She’s safe and sound with Luisa at my house,” Grams reassured him. “Ian came by the café, but thankfully, Gwendoline and Benedict stopped him from taking her from us.”
Peter breathed out slowly. He would be eternally grateful to his family for keeping their promise to protect her.
“Ian’s being judged by the coven as we speak,” Grams added. “Peter? Are you alright?” she called after him, but he’d already taken off towards the woods. He had to learn what punishment the coven had dealt. He waved goodbye, feeling guilty for being so impolite.
In the woods, the goddess statues of Peace and War guarded the entrance of the temple, taunting him. Grim Reapers were forbidden from entering, especially one banned from using magic. Forced to wait outside, Peter perched in a tree to avoid being spotted by the exiting coven members.
Lucy and Benedict were the last to leave. Ian hadn’t come out, giving Peter hope that justice had been served.
The smart thing to do would be to get down now and ask them about Ian’s sentence, confirm that he’s been locked up and will be starved into oblivion, and then return to Purgatory and prove to both myself and Gregory that I can be the Reaper they both expect me to be, Peter thought, but did he listen? No.
He watched Lucy and Benedict teleport away before dropping to the ground and passing between the statues, bowing his head.
The least he could do was apologise for intruding on sacred ground.
He winced as he stepped from muddy earth to the red clay within the temple, but the statues didn’t cut him down, and he let out a sigh of relief.
His Matherson blood must still allow him to enter without being harmed.
I should inform the coven that passing over doesn’t bar entrance to those who were cast out while living.
I wonder if death breaks the curse that prevents us from entering?
He strolled through the temple pathways, half-expecting his soul to be ripped out at any moment, and managed to make it to the statue of Poena, goddess of retribution.
He still remembered the way; it was hard to forget visiting his own father before the Order had taken him into custody.
He’d hoped never to return, especially not because of a loved one.
If I tell the coven about the fine print, I’ll only end up banished.
What the coven doesn’t know won’t hurt them for now; once I’m done with Ian, I’ll pass on the message to Benedict.
He figured that could be penance for his intrusion.
He touched the crow in Poena’s extended stone hand.
She moved aside, granting him access to the temple dungeons, where Ian would complete his sentence.
A better man would’ve gone straight to Hawthorne House and checked on Faye, but his anger propelled him towards vengeance and down the damp stone steps, where the smell of burnt herbs indicated that the coven had recently blessed a cell after sentencing.
Cautious not to touch the iron door – ghosts and iron didn’t mix well, and contact would expel him from the temple – he used his jacket to crank the lever, but the door popped open before he entered the combination.
It wasn’t like the coven to carelessly leave a cell door unsealed, he thought, stepping inside the sunlight dungeon where imprisoned vampires were kept in silver coffins. Fresh marks in the red clay where Ian had fought to escape gave away which silver coffin was his.
Peter considered turning away before he went too far, but then he noticed that the lid of the coffin wasn’t fully sealed. Fear pierced his heart. There’s no way Ian could’ve found a way out. Did he prepare for imprisonment? Did the coven’s spell not freeze him?
He pushed the heavy lid aside, and to his relief, Ian was inside. Night had already fallen, or the vampire would have roasted up in seconds thanks to the dozens of mirrors casting sunlight over the dungeon.
Maybe I should’ve waited until dawn. Peter peered down at Ian, frozen by the coven’s spell, unable to move or speak but able to hear and feel everything.
A fate worse than death. He hated to think ill of Lucy or Benedict, but how could they have left both the coffin and door unlocked?
He would talk with them tomorrow, but right now he had Ian right where he wanted him.
“You made a terrible mistake coming back here. You should’ve avoided Faye and Foxford and built a new life elsewhere.
You couldn’t even let her go, let her have peace.
” Peter leaned over the coffin, staring at Ian’s face.
His eyes were closed, but he would hear every word.
“How long has the coven given you down here? A year? Three years? Five? The thirst will drive you insane long before you’re granted your freedom.
A cruel fate, but you deserve far worse. ”
He stopped talking when he noticed a hint of blood at the corner of Ian’s mouth.
Was it Faye’s blood? Wincing, he forced open Ian’s jaw, only to find bloody gums where his fangs should be.
Would the coven have gone so far? Usually de-fanging was reserved for murder.
Maybe they made an exception for Ian. What he did to Faye could be seen as attempted murder.
A gentle voice came from behind a stone beam. “Peter?”
“Faye.” Peter looked up to see her with bloody pliers in her hand. Suddenly, he understood the open cell door and unsealed coffin lid. She had beaten him here.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Faye said coldly.
Her expression was blank, her face so pale she was almost as grey as the vampire in the coffin. She didn’t look like herself, but after what she had been through, how could she?
“Neither should you, but here we are.” Peter wanted to embrace her and apologise for not being there when she’d needed him. However, he feared any sudden movements would startle her. She seemed in shock, or lost in a trance. “What did you do?”
“What I’ve wanted to do for years.” Her smile made him both proud and disturbed.
“I was at Hawthorne House with Luisa, but I slipped away while she made food. She left me to finish some calming tea, but I couldn’t sit still and wait to hear what the coven had decided.
Benedict was fixing Grams’s rocking chair on the porch.
He left his toolbox out, and I figured I should bring something to protect myself.
” Faye looked down at the bloody pliers.
“I didn’t realise they would come in so handy. ”
“How did you get here?” Peter asked, getting her back on track.
“I walked. I sneaked inside and watched the coven lock Ian away down here. I thought the temple was warded against magless, but nothing happened when I passed the statues outside,” Faye said, puzzled. “The creepy one at the top of the stairs opened as soon as I got close.”
“The temple is only warded against those who wish to harm the coven or desire to destroy our sacred ground, not those who seek justice. The creepy goddess is Poena; she probably sensed your desire for retribution, for revenge, and granted you passage,” Peter explained.
“Still, it’s forbidden for magless to enter without permission. ”