2. Raven
Ineither wanted nor needed the entire room focused on me.
Easy did not describe the collection. The method used tore away a piece of me—a part of my soul in exchange for the acquisition. If only I’d known that little consequence before using the tool.
Even now, the loss throbbed like a chunk of missing flesh. A fact I could never mention to anyone because the source of the pain came from an item I most certainly wasn’t meant to use.
So…yeah…Chace’s dad―Ubel―was probably right. My last reaping strategy would likely be considered cheating, but he didn’t need to know that. And besides, I’d completed the task. Nothing else should really matter.
Still, I now understood why my dad kept that artifact locked up.
“Come on, Ruthless Raven.” Chace leaned closer as he jabbed with both his elbow and his words, his tone taunting, irritating, and dripping with traps waiting to be sprung. “Don’t hold out on us. We’re all dying to know.”
I swallowed hard, barely glancing his way. What story could I tell? The target had a change of heart? Nah. Target’s magic was weak or backfired? Nope. Anything I said would fail to satisfy.
“I can’t really say.” I shrugged and shook my head. “I just…did. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
Chace’s nostrils flared as if he smelled my lie, and he pulled back into his seat, removing the press of his arm against my body.
“And there it is.” Superior Grim jabbed a pointed finger into the air. “A reaper’s biggest downfall is his or her mindset. It’s the only thing that can get in the way, for a reaper’s will to reap is infinite and absolute.”
Murmurs of accord swept over the room, but I sat motionless and said nothing. I could not get behind Superior Grim’s statement. Reapers were not gods. And even gods…well, were they infinite and absolute?
Chace’s intense scrutiny flickered to me, his face partially hidden behind a messy curtain of mid-length hair.
He, no doubt, judged me. I knew he did. And he made little to no effort to hide that fact.
The foreign sensation that, with just one look, he psychologically stripped me bare and exposed all my thoughts and emotions crawled over my skin.
“On the occasion when one of the more powerful beings puts up a fight,” Superior Grim continued, “increased measures to collect the soul may be required—”
“Increased measures would suggest our will is not so absolute,” someone from the back of the room called out.
Superior Grim’s face hardened.
“Did you learn your manners from your father? I recall he always questioned the system.” He scrutinized the room, his finger extending in a sharp point. “Your fellow reapers can thank you for the extra workload today.”
The room filled with a chorus of hisses and boos, and Superior Grim grabbed a stack of papers from the back table. The stack stood close to twelve inches tall, and each sheet held a soul requiring collection at a designated date and time.
“Everybody gets three basic, non-magical-being collections today.” He raised a handful of assignment sheets in the air and waved them. “And by that, I mean, three separate location collections. If you happen to get a twofer sheet, that counts as one, and you still get two more.”
“Great,” I mumbled.
With my luck, I’d receive three separate assignments, each including two or more souls. Several accidents claiming multiple lives at once.
Superior Grim called the reapers in the first row forward to accept their assignments.
The second row would follow, and so on, the procedure a well-worn familiarity amongst the attendees.
Given that I sat in the eighth row, I had a few minutes before I needed to get in the pickup line.
A long breath exhaled from my lungs as I dropped my head back against the seat.
Chace leaned in at my side, again, dragging my attention in his direction. The length of his arm pressed against mine, and an unexpected wave of tingles raced across my skin. Was that the sensation of my common sense retreating into the darkest pit of my soul?
I’d swear that, for a moment, he stopped breathing. Had he felt my reaction? Or had he gotten an eyeful? Was I busting out of my top or something?
A quick glance down at my chest answered my apparel question. Everything remained properly covered. But if he was looking, or I had been exposed, would his perusal bother me?
Reaping hell. Why was I even entertaining such a thought?
He released a deep breath. “You’re really not going to tell us how you did it? Give us any insight or special tips learned from your accomplished parents?”
Intrigue overlayed any hint of frustration or rudeness evident in his tone, but his attempted friendliness would not fool me. Never again would he easily lead me into one of his traps. Nothing I said could help him become a better reaper. I’d keep my secrets to myself.
“Or…” A sliver of a wicked grin curled his lips. “Could it be you had the help of Thanatos himself?”
My brow pressed down, and my jaw tightened. Not only had no one seen Thanatos, the God of Death, in gods knew how long, but the likelihood he’d lift a finger to help a newbie such as myself fell somewhere between zero and point one percent.
“There’s nothing to tell. Besides”―I turned to fully face him―“your parents are just as accomplished as mine, and your dad thinks I cheated. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”
“Seriously?” He arched his eyebrows as he shifted his weight deeper into the shared armrest. “My dad is a fool, as is yours, continuing a generations-old feud simply because, why…?” He thrust his arm across my lap as if to present evidence only visible with the mind’s eye.
“My great-great-grandfather did something to your great-great-grandfather, and your great-great-grandfather retaliated. The notion is petty and—dare I say—stupid.” He dipped his head and shook it.
“I’m rather tired of the utter ridiculousness of it all. You should be, too.”
A tiny gasp fought to break free from my throat, only I held it captive, unwilling to display any sense of surprise in front of him…a Badden.
Questioning the feud, my father, or even my loathing for Chace wasn’t a contemplable concept, given my family dynamics and conditioning. I had learned to accept the situation as it stood.
After all, he had shoved me into a shark tank during a reaping lesson at an aquarium.
That act surely cemented his commitment to the continued rivalry.
He’d professed the incident had been an accident—an excuse I had refused to buy.
As they say, like father like son, and as I understood things, his father was a real piece of work.
Plus, Chace’s friends had snickered a tad too hard at my predicament.
After that, how could I feel anything other than disdain for the guy?
I averted my gaze, unable to continue looking at him, because… Well, just because.
Rubbing my damaged palm became my anchor—the stone holding my emotions from reaching my expression. Only the constant motion of my massage worked against me, drawing his attention.
He grabbed my arm and yanked my hand close, exposing my bruised palm.
“That doesn’t exactly look like nothing.” He coasted his thumb across my maimed skin, causing me to jerk. His gaze narrowed. “You’re holding back. What really happened?”
“Nothing.” I tugged my hand free and hugged it to my chest. “Just leave me alone.”
“If only it were that simple, but I can’t just leave you alone.
” His attention flittered over me before returning to my palm.
A touch of curiosity and concern etched across the edges of his features.
“So, fess up and tell everyone what really happened.” He dragged the edge of his lower lip between his teeth. “Or just tell me.”
My attention momentarily fixed on his mouth. His teeth dragging over his lower lip… Those mouthwatering, expressive lips.
Oh, reap me twice over. What was I doing?
I shook my thoughts straight and crossed my arms.
I could be wrong, but I thought his grin kicked up a notch.
Go away go away go away.
Mentally wishing him out of sight played on repeat in my head. If only I wielded the power to bring such magic to fruition.
“Come on, Raven.” He lightly punched my upper arm. “Help me out.”
Was he seriously asking me to help him improve his reaping skills? He didn’t need help. He already ranked good on the required task skills—great, even. Probably one of the best and he knew it. Clearly relished the fact.
So, no, he wasn’t seeking help. Within his probe, I detected a plea to trap me in a situation he could exploit, or…possibly gain my assistance in irritating our fathers? Two things I had no intention of doing.
“Stop it.” I pulled away from him.
My blood fizzed, turned to a boil, and warmed my skin to excess.
A wild smirk stretched his mouth, planting a sparkle in his eyes. “Success doesn’t come from quitting. And I’m never quitting.”
“It was a blunder. Okay?” I stiffened at my unexpected admission, and I pressed my arms against the armrest with the force of an iron rod. “Now leave me alone. You have no right to touch me, and you stink.”
The second part was a lie. He, in fact, smelled rather dreamy, but maybe planting the mere thought in his head would encourage him to keep his distance. Move to a different seat.
“First of all, sorry. And second”―he raised his hands apologetically, even as he covertly tilted his nose into his shoulder and took a whiff. He snapped straight, slapping his hand to his chest, and dropped his mouth agape, popping his eyes a little too wide―“ouch.”
I fought a smile struggling to break free at his absurd acting job and clear willingness to play along, not argue the state of his bodily aroma.
“But you know,” he continued, “I suspect something was up with your collection yesterday. What exactly went down?”
“For the love of all demons, leave me the devil alone.” No longer feeling the urge to smile, I curled my hand into a tight fist.