Chapter 11
Neither Viri nor Reeve spoke as they retraced their steps through the darkened market district back to the wayportal, the silence oddly peaceful. But by the time they reached the shimmering magestone arch, any sense of calm Viri felt was replaced by unease.
“For what it’s worth, I promise I’m not leading you into a trap,” Reeve said, noting her trepidation. “You have my word.”
Viri straightened her scarlet cloak, surreptitiously making sure her hunter daggers were within easy reach, two strapped to her belt and one hidden in her boot.
She preferred using her fillium—it was much less messy—but she’d long since learned not to be picky.
“Forgive me if the word of a reaper doesn’t count for much. ”
“How about the word of an old friend?” Reeve asked. “Does that count for anything?”
Pain swept through Viri at the reminder of what he’d once been, but she kept her features blank.
“If I wanted to hurt you,” he went on, “I could have done it at any point tonight.” Viri started, realizing he was right. “I told Archer you’d be safe with me, and I meant it.”
Viri struggled to come up with a response, her feelings too confusing, so she focused on her memory of Soren lying unconscious back at Nox HQ and gestured tersely to the wayportal. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Reeve watched her for a beat, looking as if he might say more, but he stopped himself with a slight shake of his head and turned to the wayportal. Just as he was about to step through, he held his hand out to her. “Better safe than sorry.”
Wayportal magic had been heavily researched by Aravell’s top scholars for centuries, but so much about the magestone arches remained a mystery.
They were part of daily life on Elverdine Isle, with citizens only needing to envision the location of a connected portal to be transported there instantly, along with any companions.
Physical touch wasn’t required—the portal remained open until a new destination was envisioned—so while Reeve had to go first since only he knew where they were heading, Viri didn’t need to be holding his hand to follow.
But when he saw she was about to object, he jiggled the glittery cuff on his wrist, reminding her of the agony they would suffer if they were separated more than ten paces, and she begrudgingly twined her fingers with his for the second time that night.
“Don’t get used to this,” she muttered.
Mirth touched his eyes. “Maybe you should take that advice for yourself.”
Before she could tell him she’d rather hold hands with a corpse, he stepped into the wayportal, pulling her after him.
Seconds later, they appeared out the other side of an arch Viri had never ventured through before, but the inner-mountain design revealed they were deep within the residential Mount Tembris.
There was no way to tell what level they were on, but the filtered air felt thinner and drier than she was used to, so they must be close to the tapering peak.
There were only a handful of doors placed along the short tunnel—more proof of how high they were, as less space meant fewer apartments—one of which Reeve halted in front of.
He didn’t knock before reaching for the handle, but as he moved to open it, Viri froze.
Because her hunter’s mark began to burn.
“Wait!” She slapped Reeve’s hand from the door, then snarled, “You swore this wasn’t a trap!”
He looked at her in bewilderment. “It’s not.”
Viri pinned him with her fiercest glare. “Then why is there a reaper in there, Reeve?”
He glanced toward the interlocking circles inked onto her palm, his expression clearing with understanding. But instead of reassuring her, he only said, “Hopefully there’s two. It’d be a pain in the ass if we have to track down the other one.”
Before Viri could stop him, he opened the door, grabbed her hand—again—and dragged her through with him.
As she crossed the threshold into the apartment, Viri forgot all about the burning in her palm—not because it faded, but because agonizing pain assailed the rest of her body, like a million lightning bolts were zapping her nerve endings.
If Reeve weren’t still holding her hand, she would have thought they’d accidentally triggered their nullicuffs.
But this pain was familiar enough that she knew exactly what had happened, even if she couldn’t fathom why.
“An ellixen ward?” she rasped out as her body adjusted to the surge of magic she’d passed through. “What the hell, Reeve?”
He peered at her as if intrigued. “Most people can’t feel them.”
Viri breathed deeply through the last of the pain, her jaw clenched as she stated, “I’m not most people.”
“Believe me, I’m well aware,” Reeve said, his tone and expression unreadable. “I didn’t realize you were so sensitive to magic. Interesting. Though it makes sense, given your history.”
“What hist—” Viri cut herself off when her palm burned again, her hunter training overriding any curiosity she felt as her survival instincts kicked in.
Uncoiling her fillium, she balanced her weight on the balls of her feet and quickly took stock of her surroundings, noting that she stood in the living room of an apartment similar to her own, only smaller and with darker décor.
The view was different, too, with large sealed windows looking straight across to Mount Mort, the jagged, imposing, northernmost peak in the Tridus Mountain range.
Unlike Tembris and Verta, Mort was inaccessible to humans, sitting beyond the protection of the obelisks and covered in a near-constant cloud of blackmist, even during the day.
No one in Viri’s lifetime had dared venture there—or no one who had lived to tell about it.
Viri shivered at the sight of the deadly mountain, then shivered again when a flash of lightning barely penetrated the dense blackmist surrounding it, the distant storm from earlier now much closer, nearly upon them.
“Where are we? And why?” she demanded, glancing warily around the dimly lit living room, seeing no sign of the reaper her palm told her was nearby.
“You can relax,” Reeve said, moving toward what looked like a small, rectangular house resting on the floor near the window. “The ellixen ward ensures we’re safe here.”
“From what?” Viri asked. “Or who?”
“Both,” Reeve said nonsensically, before crouching down and fiddling with a metal latch near the top of the little house.
Annoyed by his lack of answers, Viri inspected the apartment again, taking in the gray walls and dark leather couch, all decidedly masculine colors. “Is this—Do you live here?”
Reeve was too distracted to reply, his attention on lifting the lid of the house and reaching in to pull something out—something that made Viri step closer to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
Sure enough, there was a small rabbit cupped in Reeve’s hands, easily the most adorable thing Viri had ever seen, with fluffy, light brown fur that darkened over its nose and droopy ears.
Unable to comprehend what she was seeing, Viri asked, somewhat stupidly, “What is that?”
“What does it look like?” Reeve said, snuggling the little furball against his chest and patting its long, soft-looking ears.
Viri wondered if she was having a stroke.
“You can’t have a pet bunny,” she spluttered. “Bunnies are cute and sweet and—and—floppy, and you’re evil incarnate. This goes against the laws of nature.”
“Firstly, thank you for implying I’m not floppy. I’m flattered you noticed.” He winked, causing Viri’s cheeks to warm even as she scowled in response. “Secondly, ‘evil incarnate’ is a step up from ‘asshole,’ so I’ll take it. And thirdly, Walnut isn’t mine. He just likes me more than most.”
Viri was certain her brain was exploding. “You named him Walnut?”
“No, I named him Walnut, because he’s mine,” came a new voice, causing Viri to whirl around in time to see a boy her age appear from the hallway.
He had an innocent look about him, his blond hair a mess of curls, his blue eyes guileless behind rectangular glasses, his smile bright and seemingly genuine.
He even wore a checkered sweater-vest, something Viri had never seen on anyone under the age of fifty.
By all accounts, he seemed harmless, but appearances were deceiving. Viri didn’t need to feel the now-searing heat in her palm to know that a reaper had just entered the room—she could see it in the darkened veins crawling all the way up his forearms, offering undeniable proof of what he was.
Bracing her feet and gripping her fillium tighter, Viri was ready to meet the reaper’s attack. But he barely glanced at her, instead striding straight for Reeve and carefully taking the rabbit from his hands.
“And just to add,” the boy continued, stroking Walnut gently before placing him in the front pocket of his vest, where the bunny quickly shifted to poke his little head out, watching them curiously, “he only likes you most because you feed him all the carrots. Or maybe it’s because of how you smell, like apples and sandalwood—his two favorite things. ”
“I doubt that’s how he smells right now,” came another voice, female this time, as a second reaper appeared from the hallway, waving a hand in front of her nose.
She was striking, with short purple hair and sharp hazel eyes, and wore beige fighting leathers that showed enough skin to make it impossible to miss the blackened veins spidering along her flesh.
“Have you been wearing the same clothes for a week, Reeve? Gross.”
“I had a washbasin.” He crossed his arms. “I’ll have you know that my personal hygiene is exemplary.”
“Exemplary or not,” the purple-haired girl said, “a week without a fresh change of clothes is ick by anyone’s standards. Were they trying to torture you?”
“They offered me another outfit.” Reeve paused. “It clashed with my hair.”
The girl smirked. “By that I assume you mean it wasn’t your preferred color.”