3. Raven
Chace leaped from his seat.
“Killed? We’re reapers. We can’t die.” He peered down at himself then stole a quick glance at me. “At least, I can’t die this young and good-looking.”
His grin kicked all the way up, exposing a dimple on his right cheek.
Had I been in a better mood, I would have rolled my eyes. Possibly faked a gag. But as things currently stood, I gripped the seat cushion on either side of my legs.
I understood where Chace was coming from, but a few stories mentioned reapers themselves getting claimed. Reaped by one called a Killian…or The Killian.
I uncurled from my seat and turned my full attention to Mr. Aldine, trying not to fixate on the shine upon his bald head. “Is this place we’ve been tasked really that bad?”
Mr. Aldine’s expression darkened as he rubbed his salt-and-pepper beard with a trembling hand.
He puckered his lower lip. “We’ll need whatever skills and luck you both bring to the task and then some.”
I surveyed our fellow classmates, my chest tight. So many members of various ages, expertise, and wisdom. Each one of them collected their assignments and filed out the double doors. The body count in the large lecture hall declined rapidly by the second.
I referenced the surrounding group with a swoop of my hand. “Compared to many others, Chace and I are relatively inexperienced.”
“Speak for yourself, Ruthless Raven.” Chace nudged my foot with the tip of his boot.
The irritating nickname stabbed me in the gut. The desire to kick him in the leg spiked. For a millisecond, I considered showing him all the tricks and tactics I’d learned in reaper combat class.
Instead, I ignored him. “If this assignment is as dangerous and difficult as you’ve led us to believe, then why did Superior Grim assign it to us?”
Two reapers likely to fight and try to outdo one another during the entire task.
“A lesson, possibly.” Mr. Aldine shrugged and splayed his fingers in dramatic fashion. He shifted his focus between us and Superior Grim, the slightest flicker of uncertainty—possibly fear—in his expression. “Or a test of your families.”
For the first time in a long time, I wished I came from one of the lesser known families. One that didn’t come with towering expectations pressed upon them from before their first reap.
Amongst the clatter of exiting attendants, a rumble of shrieks rose in the vicinity of the doorway, and three crows flew into the lecture hall, each with a letter grasped in their claws.
Yelping, fellow reapers ducked and threw their hands up as shields. The birds circled the ceiling, cawing and cooing as they scanned all those present. Upon making eye contact, a crow swerved and headed toward me as the other two dove for Chace and Mr. Aldine.
Crow delivery. An impression was definitely being made. And I couldn’t help but think it was a bad omen.
The birds dropped their cargo upon the three of us, and one of the flying creatures cawed directly at me. Then they all flew straight from the room.
How random was the assignment if someone sent crow-delivered messages? And so soon after the task was given? The letters might not have been personalized, but the crows had singled the three of us out for a reason.
A foul taste crept over my tongue.
Something was amiss. The assignment couldn’t have been random.
A loud thump at the front podium announced Superior Grim collecting all the sheets of unassigned tasks. He spared us a momentary glance, a minute sense of regret flickering in his gaze.
Of course, the regret could have been my own emotion projected upon him. Regret for having gotten the three of us stuck with the arduous, possibly dangerous, demon of a reap.
I should have ignored Chace and kept quiet.
Superior Grim turned and left the room via the stage door, allowing it to close with a heavy thud.
Chace’s front pocket buzzed. Blowing out a breath, he pulled his electronic communicator free and stared at it. Tilting my head slightly, I caught his father’s name, Ubel Badden, flicker across the screen.
“Isn’t this just great?” Chace sighed and shoved his crow-delivered letter into his back pocket. “No time to waste. Catch you later.”
Without a single glance in my direction, he slipped from the row of seats, accepted the incoming call, and took the conversation as he jogged up the steps to the exit.
I collected my own letter from the ground, tore open the envelope, and pulled the inner card free―a fancy wedding-invite-style train ticket. The train would leave in four hours. Four hours! Destination—the Royal Citadel of Veritas.
“How many souls are we expected to collect?” I asked Mr. Aldine.
Sliding his train ticket back into the envelope, he met my gaze, his emotions successfully hidden behind a mask of indifference.
“I’ll secure all the details from the Collections Office, and we can discuss the specifics on the train ride.
But from what I understand, the numbers at the citadel are large and climb daily. ”
Something inside my chest solidified and dropped. The internal sensation dragged on all my muscles, and a familiar tingle vibrated at the back of my neck. A feeling that accompanied the fear of impending disaster.
Mr. Aldine narrowed his focus on me as he slipped his invitation into his knapsack. “Everything all right, Ms. Gunn?”
I shook off the prickle of ghostly bugs crawling on my skin.
“Yeah, sure.” I shifted my weight and glanced toward the exit. “Chace is right. There’s no time to waste. See you at the train in four.”
With a pivot, I sprinted up the stairs and headed straight home, wanting every moment to pack, plan, and talk to my parents—if they happened to be around.
Once home, I found the family’s high-rise penthouse empty. I grabbed a semi-large shoulder bag and stuffed several changes of clothing and a few personal hygiene items inside.
Almost as an afterthought, I crammed my reaper’s handbook between a couple of outfits. Tiny notes written by my mom crowded the margins of the hand-me-down book.
Her written words, however impersonal, would provide comfort during my time away. Mr. Aldine had made this particular venture sound like an extraordinary case, and the small solace could bring me strength in the face of what awaited me.
Plus, the occasional review might come in handy. Ferrying souls of the non-magical kind―humans and animals and whatnot―was rather simple, but I doubted we would be dealing with anything remotely straightforward.
Deciding to dress for the job, I pulled my hair into a tight ponytail and traded my casual attire for tactical pants, a long-sleeved thermal, a fitted vest, and combat boots, all in ready-to-rumble-and-reap black.
I then slid my travel scythe (which looked more like a baton in its current state) through the straps across the back of my vest, positioning it for quick grabbing and activating.
I glanced in the mirror and gave my badass self a nod of approval. If the unwilling-to-depart souls put up a fight, I’d come both prepared and looking good.
Collecting my reaper’s robe, and swiping a chocolate bar from my nightstand because…well, chocolate and I might crave it later, I bid my room…and comfy bed…farewell and headed into the main living quarters.
The Gunn family owned a substantially large penthouse-style home with an expansive view of the surrounding city.
As the only child, I had a private room comparable to a studio apartment.
With my parents at work more than not, I usually had the entire place all to myself.
One of the reasons I had yet to commit to moving out on my own.
Uncertainty crept through my bones as I stood at the hallway entrance, scanning the empty spaces.
The kitchen and dining areas commanded all the spaces on my left, and to the right, the living room with wall-to-wall windows overlooking the city.
Mom’s décor and housekeeping, ultra tidy.
It didn’t exactly whisper, much less scream, “Chill. Relax.”
My mom had a habit of keeping everything spotless. As if she expected royalty to drop in at any moment.
Now what?
My parents weren’t home. Should I sit around and wait for the off chance that either or both would show up? Idle time would only serve to heighten my anxiety, filling my thoughts with stressors over the possible task expectations and having to work with Chace.
The assignment equaled a gaping cut, and Chace the salt. I wanted to scream but settled for digging my nails into the soft skin of my palms.
Shifting my focus across the room, I settled my gaze on the small collection of reaper artifacts locked in the floor-to-ceiling glass cabinet. A limited collection, only a few items sat on display, with ample room around each.
Steadfast steps took me across the expanse to where I pressed the tips of my fingers against the display’s cold, clear barrier.
The space behind the glass smelled of leather, metal, and must. At eye level, placed in the center of the shelf, rested the piece I’d used on my last task.
The piece that had left me feeling incomplete.
Dangerous yet effective.
I pulled my hand from the cabinet and studied my palm.
An impression of emptiness resided beneath the bruise, deep within my skin and bones.
The unsanctioned device had carved away a piece of my spiritual self on that smaller, challenging task.
Should I take the tool with me again, what would it do to me on this seemingly treacherous and impossible reaping?
I didn’t have the time to contemplate the answer.
The front door to the penthouse swung open with a bang. I broke free of my internal musings with a jolt and whirled toward my father as he stepped into the room.
Scorpeo Gunn approached me with long, quick strides. Before I could utter a word of welcome, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug.
“I heard the news. Thank the reaper’s scythe I caught you before you left.” He pressed his cheek to the side of my head.