Chapter Three
Donovan
I snort, listening to Wraith go on and on about Scythe Academy and becoming a reaper. There are so many better ways he could explain this. I know it frustrates the hell out of him when he’s ready to leave and someone asks a question, but if he would explain it differently, then he wouldn’t get so many questions. But don’t try to tell him that.
If there’s one thing about Wraith, it’s that he’s set in his way. Or maybe he just enjoys becoming frustrated over something only he controls. Sounds like him.
I guess that’s what happens when you’ve lived for thousands and thousands of years.
He likes it when I join him at the welcomings, so I come even though they’re boring as hell. Who am I to tell my lover no when he says I make it easier for him when I’m there?
It also gives me a chance to check out the new meat—I mean the new reaper recruits. I snicker to myself though in my hellhound form it comes out sounding more like a growl, drawing attention to me. When I pull back my lips and snarl at them, they quickly look away. All of them but one.
I’m surprised I didn’t notice her the moment we slid out of the shadows. She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen before. She’s tall and lithe, dressed in all black. Her hair is the kind of red humans can only get from a box—a deep, dark red that seems to change colors beneath the lights. Her eyes are a vibrant green, almost like she’s wearing contacts, but with my enhanced eyesight, I can tell that both her eyes and hair are natural.
She’s clearly a supernatural, but there are too many people in the room for me to seek out her individual scent. Her olive skin probably means she keeps the tan color she’s sporting year-round. She has high cheekbones, a delicate, slightly upturned nose, and plush pink lips that I would love to kiss.
I’ve known more than a few gods and demigods in my lifetime, all of whom are beyond beautiful, so when I say she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve seen, I mean that. Most of the goddesses and demigods wouldn’t hold a candle to her. I need to know her, know more about her. Who is she? What is she? Why can’t I seem to look away from her?
“If you choose to not stay at Scythe Academy, then you will meet the Judges—three fallen angels who were sent to the underworld as punishment by the gods.”
Wraith’s voice has my eyes jerking away from the beauty before me and looking up at him. I really had stopped paying attention to what he was saying. When I glance over at the woman once more, I find her eyes are also on my lover.
A pity, really. Not that I can blame her.
“They will judge your soul based on your actions during your time on earth. They will choose one of the three areas of the underworld for your soul to be placed in. There’s Tartarus, where you’ll be tortured forever. This is where the worst of the worst go. The second option is The Asphodel Meadows, where all of your memories will be torn from your head and you’ll wander until your number is drawn for reincarnation. This is where those who still have a chance at learning from their mistakes go, so they can do better in their next life. The last option is for those of you who have learned all that you can throughout your lives and aren’t evil. Elysium is as close to the human idea of heaven that Lucifer could come up with.”
I snuff when I hear murmurs of Lucifer’s name, rolling my eyes again. It’s not even just the humans either.
“Yes, you heard me correctly. Lucifer. Hades. Pluto. Osiris. He’s gone by many names over the years, but he’s one and the same. And before you ask, heaven has gone by many names before it was closed to all of us—Mount Olympus, Caelum, Asgard. Now, the underworld is the only place we take souls. So, to answer your question, you can take a chance on judgment, but since you don’t recall what type of life you lived before you died—not to mention what you might have done in past lives—do you really want to take that chance?”
The murmuring around the room grows louder, but I tune it out. I don’t care what they have to say. Most of them won’t make it far in the program, anyway. I don’t bother getting to know reapers until they’re nearing the end of the classes and getting ready to graduate. What’s the point if they’re just going to disappear one day?
I do think I might make an exception for the pretty girl who caught my attention earlier. My eyes find her once more. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, eyes narrowed on Wraith as he continues to speak. I can tell he’s wrapping up once more. If anyone attempts to stop him again, he’s going to go ballistic, I just know it.
So when he reaches for his hood once more, I brush against his side as he calls the shadows to him again, my eyes never leaving my pretty girl.
“That’s it?” she scoffs, and I wince internally. This is not going to go well at all.
Wraith drops his hood, the shadows dispersing once more. When he steps toward the edge of the stage, I follow him. Not only because it takes me closer to my pretty girl, but because I don’t know how he’s going to react to her calling him out like this. I want to be here to stop him from doing something he might regret if I need to.
My pretty girl just lifts her chin, squaring up her shoulders as she meets his eyes. She shows zero fear, and I don’t think it’s a front. I wonder if she’d be more afraid if she knew exactly who he was.
Watching the two of them clash is going to be epic, and maybe I’ll even learn my pretty girl’s name.