3. Raven #2
Smiling into his shoulder, I attempted to commit the smell of him to memory. Espresso beans and smokey mesquite barbecue. His brunch, I guessed.
“I only just received the task. How do you already know?”
His chest rose and fell against the press of my cheek. “News such as this travels faster than lightning.”
The smile slipped from my face, my assessment of the impending situation darkening. I pulled back and studied his features. His dark hair and eyes, the hint of gray at his temples.
He continued to hold my upper arms, his gaze upon me intense, almost frightening.
“Okay, stop it.” A shiver raced over my skin. I took another step back, slipping free from his grasp. “Your fierce attention is starting to scare me.”
“Apologies, my daughter. It’s just…” He spun and walked to the bar, grabbed the crystal decanter and a glass.
After pouring himself a drink of liquid fire, he swallowed a large swig, then he set the glass down with a heavy hand.
“When I heard of your assignment, an uncontrollable concern clamped my chest—knotted my gut.”
My eyes widened. “What is it about this place that has so many elder reapers on edge?”
I closed the distance between us, keeping a keen eye on my father’s facial expression, searching for any hint of secret-keeping.
Coming to a stop across the bar from him, I pushed the heels of my palms to the surface and leaned forward. “From everything I’ve heard, this doesn’t seem like a task for newer reapers such as myself or Chace.”
“Chace Badden?” A muscle along his jaw twitched, and his eyes glazed over.
“What is it?”
“Gunn and Badden.” Father reached for his glass and took another sip of his liquor. “Two of the strongest reaper families and their coming-of-age members. I have a hard time believing there’s a coincidence in such an assignment.”
A similar thought vexed me. But if the assignment had come from Chace’s uncle…
Father circled the bar, glass in hand, and strode to the center of the room, where he stared at the cabinet filled with his collection of artifacts.
“Here is what you need to know.” He heaved a deep breath. “Not a single soul has been reaped from the Royal Citadel of Veritas in over a hundred years.”
“A hundred years?” My voice pitched higher. I circled the bar and stepped to his side. “I get that the people there probably live long lives, but what the death? Are they frozen in time?”
“Not frozen, but not dying.”
“How is that even possible? Are they still producing? Increasing the population without the balance of death? I mean…” I scratched my temple. “After a hundred years, wouldn’t there be an overcrowded population problem?”
“That would be a minor issue, all things considered. But I can’t truthfully answer your questions.
The Reaper’s Council is rather clueless on the depths of the situation.
No one has been able to successfully obtain information about the status within the citadel’s walls.
Most can’t get past the outer gate, and those who do… ” He emptied his glass and shrugged.
“What?” I pressed. “Those who do…what?”
He released a heavy sigh. “Those who enter have yet to report back.”
My chest squeezed my internal workings to a stop.
Those who manage to get inside the citadel never return.
Nothing about that statement felt remotely acceptable.
“I’m being sent to my death, aren’t I? Or something worse than death. What’s worse than death?” I spun and walked away from my father, pacing along the room-wide window, my limbs heavy and boneless at my sides. “A living death. That’s what’s worse. Neither dead nor alive.”
“Take a breath and settle down.” Father stepped in front of me and grabbed my shoulders. “Everything we know about the situation is conjecture.”
“Yeah, but…” I clenched my fists. “Isn’t that alone enough to assume the worst?”
He shook his head. “I admit, it doesn’t look good from where we’re standing.
It may not look any better when you’re staring up at the citadel’s front gate.
But if you are to succeed at the assigned task, you must maintain a level head and grasp the grand picture that is in place.
Emotion, such as fear, will only cloud your thoughts and undermine your ability to recognize all the interlocking pieces. ”
“So…” I drew the word out. “You’re telling me to be cold and calculating.”
“That’s not what I said.” He frowned and dropped his arms from my shoulders.
“But you can’t take any chances with this reap or Chace Badden.
I guarantee you, his father is ordering him to cut you zero slack and show no mercy.
Badden will want to out-reap you at every turn, on every mark.
His family is not in the business to help the departing souls, but to be the absolute best at what we do. ”
Not unlike my own family.
My father had pressed his reaping motto upon me many times.
Be the first to reap and the last to reap. The best at every single joint-venture reap. Protect and showcase your superior skills, and let no other tarnish your image. You are a reaper through and through, by birth, by blood, and by ability. Be the reaper to which others aspire.
Simply put, be the absolute best reaper. Period.
In a somewhat matched fashion, my mother sang her praises in a different manner. You, my dear, are death’s guiding hand. A born natural when it comes to transitioning souls. There are few more qualified than you.
My parents meant well, but…
Weren’t Chace’s parents doing the same thing? The rivalry was a never-ending cycle of ugly words, thoughts, and deeds. And at present, I didn’t have the brain capacity to deal with it—any of it.
“Dad.” My voice weaved with skepticism.
“Don’t trust him,” he said, his delivery firm. “Never trust a Badden. Especially that particular Badden.”
I had no doubt the family feud would carry into the Citadel of Veritas on Chace’s and my backs. And Chace might be an A-list jerk, but I had trouble thinking he would seriously endanger me or our task.
Mildly, yes. But seriously, no.
Our discord stood on ugly ground but never leveled up to truly hazardous. Plus, Chace had admitted to having an opposing opinion to that of his father’s. I might have ignored that comment in the lecture hall, but it twisted within me, a gnarly clump of thorns in my craw.
Anyway, we were both adults—our teen years behind us, and we could act as such. Get past comments such as my father’s. Hopefully.
Never trust a Badden. Especially that particular Badden.
Wait… What did he mean by “that particular Badden?”
I wasn’t sure I knew how not to distrust Chace Badden. But on a scale of one to ten, he could rank worse, and I hoped to hold any distrust somewhere around the mid-line.
He was, after all, my assigned teammate for the task. How effective could our team be without trust between us?
“What’s wrong with Chace in particular?”
“He lives.”
My mouth popped open. What in reaping hell was that supposed to mean?
I fully intended to ask exactly that when he opened his display cabinet. “This reap is going to be dangerous enough as it is. With an untrustworthy Badden at your side, I can’t help but worry for your safe return, much less your life.”
Still reeling over the comment regarding Chace, I gulped and stared at my father’s back as he reached into the cabinet and pulled out an unfamiliar item.
He spun around and presented an early caller to me in his open palm—the type our kind once used to call upon the crows before we could simply buzz a contact electronically with a direct line.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” I wrinkled my nose and flicked a weak point to the item in his hand. “Call the crows to circle overhead?”
With a shiver, my thoughts fluttered to the feel of the creatures’ inky eyes trained on me while they circled the high ceiling of the Hall of Reaping Requirements and Acquisitions mezzanine.
“I’d like you to have a way to communicate,” he replied. “Just in case—”
“In case my electronic communicator doesn’t work?” I folded my arms across my chest. “If, for some reason, it runs out of juice, and I’m unable to recharge said juice?”
Father sighed. “I have reason to suspect that once you’re inside the citadel, you may experience issues with electronic communication.”
Great.
The information about this reaping task kept getting better and better with each passing moment.
His timekeeper buzzed. Two seconds later, mine joined in with a loud chime.
He glanced at the screen clamped to his wrist and said, “Your departure time has been moved up, which means we’re already late.”