Chapter 10 #2
I break free as Shaw’s body slumps to the ground, and Crew turns to me.
Blood coats his face as he charges at me at a speed barely perceivable to the eye.
I attempt to backpedal but stumble, allowing him to catch me.
His bloody hand wraps around my throat, and I feel the warmth of Shaw’s blood trickle down my neck from his grip.
I gaze at his face, then slowly lower my eyes to the butterfly tattooed in the middle of his neck—one wing is white, and the other is black as night. My eyes widen as the insect's wings seem to come alive, trying to escape from being connected to Crew.
Crew’s wild eyes bore into mine. He opens his mouth to speak, but this time it isn’t the deep voice I heard yesterday. Instead, it’s a familiar voice, but one I can’t initially pinpoint through the terror. Then it hits me.
It’s Lowell’s.
“More loved ones dying is your biggest fear?” The voice snakes into my mind. “What a coincidence, seeing as all you do is bring death to people. The Hollow Huntress is afraid of what she’s so skilled at doing,” the voice mocks. “Show me the Grim.”
I tug at his hand to free myself, feeling the breath I desperately need catch in my throat. He smiles in my face, and I hear the voice once again. “Are you afraid to die? Does this fear apply to your own life?”
Fear surges through me like rushing water, and I no longer feel the drugs in my system forcing me to remain calm.
It’s gone, and I know I’m failing this assessment.
I am dying, and I can’t control the fear.
It’s all-consuming, and for a moment, I can’t convince myself that this isn’t real.
My heart slams against my chest, and I fear it will come out of my body any second.
“Apparently so,” Lowell’s voice mocks. “Show me, Mara. Now.”
The desperate need for air starts to numb my limbs, and I stop resisting his hand around my throat.
My arms hang loosely at my sides as I glance at Crew’s face one last time.
His features begin to distort, transforming into someone else's, until the man pressing his hand around my throat is Lowell Lyre.
I cough. “I can’t. He comes on his own.”
“He follows death, Mara,” I hear Lowell say. “And you.”
I glance past him, a disorienting feeling of death knocking in my mind, and look at Shaw’s lifeless body as my vision blurs—but it’s not Shaw anymore. It’s an angel I don’t recognize, and a figure darker than the demons, hell, and earth combined floats toward him.
A man with pitch-black eyes wearing a cloak approaches, and I try to scream again.
He leans down and places his large hand on the man’s caved-in chest, holding a scythe in the other.
A light travels from the dead angel’s chest into the hands of the cloaked man, and I realize I’ve seen him before—in the alleyway when Shaw was speaking to Riggs.
He’s terrifying, haunting, and familiar.
My entire mind goes blank, and I stop functioning. The quiet whispers from Lowell seem to vanish, leaving me alone in the darkness of my own fucked up mind.
It's the Grim, but how is he here?
Right now, even amid the daze and confusion of the mental assessment, I’m witnessing something I never wanted to see in my life.
The Grim will always find us. We can’t escape death, yet somehow he’s entered my mind and made one thing perfectly clear to me—I’ll accept the mission Lowell is giving me.
I’ll take out the Grim Reaper, and I’ll stop him from taking the people I love… after I kill Crew Bannermin.
I scream and push my entire body forward, then the hand around my neck fades, along with the claw, and is replaced by two hands that catch me as I fall from the cold metal chair.
My chest heaves as the lights of the office come back into view.
The coppery smell of blood hits my nose, and I don’t think it’s real.
It’s a leftover thought that’s made its way back into reality.
My body trembles, but I don’t care. I slowly lift my head to see Talon holding me, his face contorted in discomfort.
My head falls back down, and a burning sensation makes it hard to swallow.
I do what I can to collect myself, gasping with each inhale in an attempt to slow my breathing.
My chest hurts from my pounding heart, and a tear rolls down my cheek.
It wasn’t real, but it was.
I sit up, the smell of blood lingering in my nose, and look at the roaring fireplace.
My eyes widen when I spot the unfamiliar angel lying dead on the ground.
His twisted face lacks any soul, and I turn to Lowell in disbelief.
That’s why he chose to do this in private—to kill someone without facing the disapproving gaze of his Order.
“I don’t know what you saw, Mara, but I think everyone in Halcyon City heard you screaming,” Talon whispers, pulling me to stand.
“I showed Lowell exactly what he wanted.”
He doesn’t respond, and I try to stand next to Talon, my legs quaking with every ounce of weight I put on them. Lowell, who is watching intently, observes me with an unreadable expression.
His lips form a thin line as he angles his head. “That was quite a show.”
“You killed someone,” I say.
He nods. “It was necessary. You should understand.”
Lowell’s face shifts from stern to pleased, and I look away, replaying his eyes as they stared into mine when I nearly died. I glance toward the door, knowing it’s hopeless, but I still search for Shaw to ensure he’s alright, even though I know he isn’t here.
Lowell claps, and I pull my gaze back to him.
“Well done, Mara.” He smiles widely. “You are remarkable.”
I feel Talon’s grip tighten around my waist, clearly as shocked as I am by Lowell’s words. Nothing about what happened was calm. The scenes replay in my mind, and I can’t help but feel like it’s all another cruel way for Lowell to take away every bit of peace I’ve felt.
When I think of the golden field, I’ll think of that.
“Congratulations from the Order and me. You will be given your assignment tomorrow. Please meet me in my office at noon.” Lowell winks. “I’m delighted my top assassin is back.”
Lowell dips his head, signaling us to leave the office at once, and I stumble forward, each step more difficult than the last. My emotions begin to rise in my throat, and I can’t help but think of the Grim and the miserable butterfly on Crew’s neck, as though an insect is crawling up mine.
“Mara, what just happened?” Talon asks.
But I can’t think.
“Take me to my room, please.”
He hesitates. “Mara, you need to rest for a minute.”
I cut my gaze to his and let the swirl of emotions move around me. “Take me to my room.”
Talon nods and guides me forward, and I glance over my shoulder at the poor angel and the table where the syringe rests once more. Another wave of shock settles into my system, nearly causing me to crash to the ground. The heavily-filled syringe drips its contents onto the table.
Lowell never administered the medicine to me. What just happened could very well have killed me—it nearly did.
And I’m starting to think that was his plan all along.