Chapter 3 #2
Unable to stop herself, Viri’s gaze wandered over him again, taking in his tall form, broad shoulders, and narrow waist. His arms were crossed at his chest, making his biceps strain against the dark material of his shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms and golden-tanned skin.
Long, lean legs met well-worn boots, the latter being the only part of him that Viri felt safe looking at until she collected herself enough to meet his eyes.
The moment she did, she scowled fiercely at the cocky amusement in his impossibly silver gaze.
“Like what you see?” he asked, smirking.
The audacity—Viri couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe him.
“What I like seeing is you behind bars,” she returned coldly. “Exactly where you belong, reaper.”
His mouth quirked upward. “Reaper? So formal, Little Shadow?”
Pain slammed into Viri at the once-familiar nickname, something he alone had used. But she didn’t reveal the sudden squeezing of her heart, only thinned her lips and said, “Don’t call me that.”
Reeve’s gaze dropped to her feet, moving slowly, leisurely, back up again, humor brightening his eyes—along with numerous other things Viri refused to acknowledge.
“I suppose you’re not so little anymore,” he admitted. His voice was deeper than she remembered, soft with intimacy and heady with appeal. “And it’s been a long time since you followed me around like a shadow. But I can’t help myself. It still suits you, Viri.”
At the sound of her name on his lips, a shiver rippled through her. Revulsion—nothing more, since she firmly stomped down everything else that dared so much as try to break free.
Counting to five, she quickly regained control, determined to treat this like any other interrogation.
“You’re going to be locked down here for a long time, but you don’t have to be miserable—you’ll be given certain privileges if you cooperate.
Books, exercise, visitation rights. I heard you’ll only speak to one person, but that’s evidently not the case, so—”
“Oh, it’s definitely the case,” Reeve said.
Viri pointed to herself. “Clearly not.”
He just looked at her, arching a brow, until realization barreled into her.
She was the person he’d said he would speak to.
Viri wasn’t a fool—she could see the trap for what it was, a cat-and-mouse game where he toyed with her emotions for his own sick entertainment.
He knew enough about her past to make her hurt more than anyone else.
Hell, he’d lived it with her, witnessing every horrifying second and then abandoning her when she’d needed him most. If he wanted to play that hand, then fine, she would endure whatever he threw at her—but she was damn well going to get what she needed in return.
“In that case, let’s cut straight to the chase,” she said. “How do I find your master?”
“My master?” He laughed darkly, the sound like a caress against her skin, making her fight another shiver. “I bow to no one, Little Shadow. Never have, never will.”
Viri ground her teeth at his repeated use of her old nickname but yielded that battle for the larger one. “The Reaper Priest—where is he? How do we—”
Reeve interrupted by yawning loudly and pushing off the wall.
“I’ve been waiting hours for you, you know.
” He stretched his arms over his head, his shirt rising just enough to show a glimpse of abdominal muscles contracting in the dim light.
“I’m not sure who was more furious when I made my request—the revered captain of the Nox Custodia or your equally intimidating hunter boss.
What do you call her, by the way? Chief?
General? Madam Overlord?” An edged smile.
“Oh, wait, I forgot that last one’s reserved for your precious Magistratus. ”
Viri ignored the dig at Sarielle. “My ‘boss’ is Commander Roth to you,” she said shortly, the words sounding strange to her ears. While Darik preferred the Nox to address him by his title, Meera kept things more casual among the hunters. “Now answer my questions.”
Reeve huffed out an amused breath. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Her patience thinning, Viri gritted out, “This isn’t meant to be fun, Reeve.”
His eyes flared as she said his name for the first time in years, but he quickly returned to his cavalier amusement. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said smoothly, walking over to the glass until he stood right before her.
“No deals,” she said, her voice firm.
He ignored her. “We’ll play a game. An answer for an answer.”
“I said no—”
“I’ll go first: Who hurt you?”
“I’m not—” Viri stopped abruptly, blinking as his words processed. “What?”
He gestured toward her cheek and repeated, the words more clipped this time, “Who. Hurt. You?”
A storm of emotion flooded through Viri, too overwhelming and confusing for her to control, so she settled on the most dominant feeling: rage.
“You did, Reeve,” she snarled, relieved that her fury kept her voice from cracking.
A muscle feathered in his jaw as he understood her meaning, but his tone remained light as he said, “I think I’d remember that. I keep a pretty strict no-hitting-girls rule. Call me old-fashioned, but casual violence doesn’t appeal to me.”
“No, just killing kids to steal their magic,” Viri spat. “There’s certainly nothing casual about that.”
Reeve said nothing, his silence telling.
His veins might not be streaked with black at present—nor was the hunter’s mark on Viri’s palm searing with his proximity—but that only meant he hadn’t siphoned recently enough for there to be any stolen ellixen left in his body.
It didn’t change what he was. What he did.
Reapers were addicts—once they had a taste of power, they never stopped hungering for it.
Reeve was no different from the rest of them.
“No comeback?” Viri taunted. “You’re not going to defend your choice to prey on children?”
Reeve unfolded and refolded his sleeves, taking his time before responding. “Reapers can siphon from adults, too.” His eyes captured hers. “You know that better than anyone.”
Grief burned through Viri like fire, but she stifled it as fast as she could, shoving more bricks into her mental wall and refusing to let any memories surface.
“It’s not a matter of if you can, but if you will,” she retorted.
“People older than fourteen don’t have enough ellixen left to tempt your interest.”
“Maybe you can speak to someone about that, hunter,” he goaded. “Get them to change the laws, raise the age of Impartation, and reapers will have more of a range to sample from. If it’s only kids you’re worried about, then you should have a solid argument up your sleeve.”
Viri sent him a disgusted look, making it clear how she felt about that idea.
The Impartation—a ceremony where children, on or before their fourteenth birthday, surrendered their magic to fuel the obelisks warding the city from blackmist—was the only thing that all but guaranteed protection from reapers.
The human body required a mere drop of ellixen to survive, so that was all that remained after the sacrifice, the reduced power not enough to entice reapers and therefore eliminating the threat of being attacked.
It was also what kept the reaper population in check, since they had to be willing to prey solely on children—to murder children—in order to start down the dark, addictive path of siphoning.
Very few could stomach it, but for those who did…
Reapers were monsters.
All of them.
And as much as Viri wanted to look at Reeve and see the innocent boy she had once known, it wasn’t possible. Because that boy was gone.
Forever.
“Enough stalling,” Viri said, stepping closer to the glass. “I answered your question, now it’s your turn. Where’s the Priest?”
Reeve cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t actually answer my question. I think we both know you answered a different question. That means it’s still my turn.”
Viri slammed her hands against the barrier, ignoring the sting of ellixen-suppressing magic beneath her palms—a standard requirement in all Underlock cells. “I’m not playing your games, Reeve. Tell me what I want to know, or I’m gone. It’s of little consequence to me.”
“You always were a terrible liar.” He grinned. “Nice to see some things haven’t changed.”
Eager to put a dent in his confidence, Viri spun on her heel and began walking away, praying he wouldn’t call her bluff. She nearly wilted in relief when she heard his soft “Wait,” and paused to look back over her shoulder.
“Are you finally going to cooperate?” she asked. “Or just keep wasting my time?”
“Time is a construct, so ‘waste’ is a matter of interpretation.” When she started walking again, he quickly added, “But yes to your first question. The one about cooperation. Lucky for you, it’s my word of the day.”
Certain she would regret it, Viri returned to his cell, tapping her foot as she glared at him in expectation. “Well?”
Reeve placed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, looking way too comfortable given his circumstances. “You want to know where the Reaper Priest is?”
“Yes,” Viri hissed. “I’ve only asked about a thousand times.”
His lips twitched. “So dramatic. I missed that about you.”
Viri felt a stab of pain, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “Three seconds and I leave again. This time for good. One. Two—”
“You used to be so much more patient,” Reeve said, as if she were the one being difficult. “But fine. You want the answer? I’ll tell you everything I know about the Priest. I won’t even make you finish our game—just you asking the questions, and me revealing all. Is that what you want?”
Viri didn’t dare get her hopes up, not as she caught the calculating look on Reeve’s annoyingly handsome face.
“There’s just one small condition,” he said, removing one hand from his pocket to inspect his nails.
The move made the dim light glint across a ring on his middle finger, the band as black as onyx and etched with silver runes.
He’d never been one to wear jewelry when they were kids—yet another of the million things that had changed since then.
“Look around,” Viri said, repressing the urge to step through the barrier and shake some sense into him. “You’re not in a position to make demands.”
“Let’s call it a new game, then.” Reeve dropped his hand to look straight at her, his eyes like thunderclouds as he declared, “Get me out of here, and I’ll tell you anything you want. That’s my offer, Viri—my freedom for your answers.”
For a long moment, she just stared at him, but then she couldn’t help laughing. It was a bitter, humorless sound.
“Enjoy life in a cell, Reeve,” she said, turning away. “Or don’t. I really don’t care.”
Without giving him a chance to reply, she strode off down the tunnel, not stopping this time. But she couldn’t keep from hearing the words he called after her as they bounced off the rocky walls and echoed in her ears:
“We both know I’m your only hope of finding him. When you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”
Viri clenched her jaw and forced herself to keep walking. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much their encounter had affected her—or how tempted she was by his offer. But she knew better. He was a reaper, and reapers were liars. No matter what he said, she couldn’t trust him.
Angry at herself for thinking their reunion might have gone differently, for the sliver of hope she’d been unable to quash—a sliver that was now fully extinguished—Viri was lost in her head by the time she reached the elevator and began speeding upward.
It was clear that Reeve had never intended to cooperate.
Instead, from the moment of his arrest, he’d been working on a plan to escape—and that plan was to use Viri.
Cursing him viciously under her breath, Viri was in a foul mood by the time the elevator slowed at the Nox administration level—foul enough that she decided she would let Soren know she was safe, then head straight out to the surface to blow off steam by doing what she did best: reaper hunting.
Her plans, however, were derailed as soon as the elevator doors opened.
Because standing in front of them was Meera, her hands on her hips, her dark face frowning as she spoke directly to Viri’s mind and ordered, “My office. Now.”