12. Whoops!
Whoops!
Seth
The horrible standard-issue Reaper’s Guild office chair I’m sitting in creaks loudly as I shift, trying not to panic.
Half a century. That’s how long I’ve worked as a reaper without incident.
Well, alright, without a serious incident.
Now, in one twenty-four-hour period, I’ve managed to accumulate—I squint down at the now crumpled paper in my hands—five violations and four broken laws.
Shit. That's actually kind of impressive.
Violations
1. Unsanctioned reconnaissance in a restricted zone (Unseelie Court? But Darro kind of invited Ryn, sort of.)
2. Unsanctioned conjuring of a shadow magicked artifact (Necklace. Okay, so that’s one.)
3. Excessive Intimidation (Unclear. Personally, I feel like it was just the right amount of intimidation. )
4. Zeroing out a blood debt without the use of proper protocol and grant of permissions (Bullshit. They can eat a dick on that one.)
5. Damage to a public access point (I have questions)
Criminal Law Breaks
1. Revealing oneself to Obwoms (Does it really count if they aren’t alive anymore?)
2. Unscheduled soul harvest which resulted in homicide (Yeah, okay, but it’s no genuine loss for the obwoms.)
3. Theft (*Borrowing. Darro basically gave us permission.)
4. Soul siphoning (Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckety fuck.)
Really, it’s just bad luck that I helped Ryn break into the Unseelie Court and steal soul stones on the same day that I had to commit a bit of homicide in order to save my friends.
What did they expect me to do? When I got to Cian’s house, it was fucking chaos.
He was as close to feral as I’ve ever seen anyone, and Trissa was bleeding out with a pair of rusty garden shears sticking out of her stomach while her ex tried to finish her off (which, by the way, would have doomed Cian as well)! It’s not like I could just walk away.
Clearing my throat, I look up into the face of my very annoyed superior and wince. “So, erm…to be fair, that access point was dodgy before I got there. Lots of rust. Not sure how much of that was actually me.”
Hellas’s orbs flare a bright crimson, and I duck my head with resignation. Oh, yeah. He’s pissed.
“People are dead.” His voice warbles slightly, and that alone really should be enough warning to keep my trap shut, but I’m me. And my mental and emotional state is delicate after all the highs and lows.
“Just the one.” My nose wrinkles and I mutter, “And he kind of sucked, to be honest. He was actively trying to murder my friends and burn their house to the ground.”
If psychopomps could release smoke through their orbs, Hellas’s would be chimneys. “The Norns are calling for immediate reparations. We’ve had to sacrifice ten souls from holding to satisfy the mess you caused by canceling out that girl's blood debt!”
I clench my jaw, anger replacing my anxiety. “That debt was bullshit. Multiple people gave their lives to pay it. It’s completely unfair that they kept upping the interest, and you know it!”
A muscle in his jaw twitches dangerously before he stiffly replies, “Be that as it may, it’s not our jurisdiction.” He pulls in a deep breath and rubs his forehead with a hand. “Honestly, Sephtis, what were you thinking?”
“I was helping the people I care about.”
Hellas's orbs soften marginally, dimming some as he leans back in his chair. “I can’t allow this level of insubordination to go unpunished.”
My stomach clenches painfully, and I brace myself for whatever is coming next.
“Suspension from all Reaping duties, including soul harvest, without pay. At least a month. You’re not to set foot on Unseelie grounds.
Stay the fuck away from obwoms. And for the love of the sweet Beyond, no more fucking harebrained heroics.
Stay at home. Stay out of trouble–completely above board.
Do NOT unfurl one shadow out of line. One month. ”
Hope clogs my throat like a balloon being inflated inside of my airway—an impossible sort of expanding that leaves me breathless.
“After that, we’ll have a review board to determine whether to reinstate or terminate your position. If any further illegal acts should occur, we will also discuss sentencing.” Hellas’s voice is tight, his words succinct and final.
I gulp in some much-needed air and can’t help the relieved smile that splits my face. “Yes, sir.” He glares at me, clearly unconvinced. “T-thank you, sir.”
His lips thin and he nods once, “Yes, well, don’t make me regret it.”
The smile slips from my face. I hold his penetrating glare, and with all the seriousness I’ve never had before, sputter, “I won’t. I can’t.”
The possibility of letting down the people who care about me makes me feel nauseous. No, they need me, and I need to be around to keep them safe.
I'm slightly terrified how this might affect things with Ryn. We have a really strong connection for such a relatively new relationship, but this is a lot of baggage to drop at her door. I’m about eighty-four point seven percent sure this won’t change anything.
I bite my lip and look down at my citations.
The word "homicide" might as well be flashing in neon.
Okay, that's not great. Seventy-four point eight percent, then.