My Tethered Soul: Volume 2 (Reaper's Rite)

by Dorothy Dreyer

  Naomi went ahead of us into class, grabbing the cupcakes from me with a wink. I hovered by the classroom door, taking in the deep sapphire glow in Gavin’s eyes.

  “I’ve got track practice today, but I’ll come by Lilura’s afterwards and walk you home.”

  “Okay.” My voice was so soft, my words barely audible. Because I knew he was about to kiss me.

  Though I made it a point not to engage in unnecessary amounts of PDA at school, I took one greedy moment as a birthday favor to myself and let our kiss linger a few seconds more. The hot press of his lips against mine sent a shiver from my shoulders to my toes. I grasped my books tightly to keep from grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer.

  He flashed a knowing smile as our lips parted and ran his thumb down my cheek before he left. My sigh was cliché, but I didn’t care. I floated into class and glided into my seat next to Naomi. She shook her head at me and snickered just as the bell rang. Since school was out in just a few weeks, I tuned out the teacher and daydreamed about Gavin’s kiss—and the many kisses I hoped would follow—during the entire algebra lesson.

  Daydreaming seemed to help the hour go by, and soon I was welcomed to History class by a familiar face. Ice-gray eyes framed by light brown lashes stayed on me as I dropped my books on my desk and set down the cupcake container. He didn’t smile, but I was used to that. Chase leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretching out in front of his desk, and raised his brows as if waiting for me to speak.

  “Cupcake?” I said. “Naomi’s mom made them.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Are you sure? Only two left.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to skip out on training today just because it’s your birthday, are you?”

  My cheeks felt hot. I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “What? No. You, um, you knew it was my birthday today?”

  “It’s my job to know these things.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Our teacher entered the room in a huff about some scratch he found on his car. One brown-nosing student approached him with a sympathetic ear.

  I looked back at Chase. “Of course I’m going to train today.”

  “Good. Because I have something special planned.”

  “Oh? What?”

  Chase nodded toward the teacher. “Class is starting.”

  I gathered my things as soon as the bell rang forty-five minutes later. I didn’t rush out though, because I still wanted to know what Chase had planned for my training session. I lingered by the door, waiting for him to catch up to me. His face was stoic as he joined me in the hall.

  Chase rubbed his chin, not looking at me. “So, is Gavin taking you to prom?”

  I was caught off guard by his question. With my birthday and curiosity about Chase’s special training idea, prom was the last thing on my mind.

  “Um. Well, we haven’t exactly talked about it,” I replied.

  “Hmm.”

  I blinked at him. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  I grunted. “You must have meant something.”

  “Not really. Just…hmm.”

  I clutched my books and sneered at him. “He’ll take me.”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  I resisted the urge to stomp my foot. “Why are you being such a jerk?”

  “Why are you getting so upset?”

  I scoffed, and immediately one corner of his mouth inched upward. Why did he enjoy getting me so worked up?

  He was about to walk away when something occurred to me.

  “Chase, wait. I have to tell you something.”

  He stopped and turned slowly, his hands planted in his trench coat pockets.

  “Last night I had a…dream. At least, I think it was a dream.” I closed the distance between us and lowered my voice. “I was staring at a Reaper. He looked like he was about to attack me. But then suddenly, his face changed.”

  “Changed how?”

  “Well, he sort of shifted. Turned into…me.”

  Chase studied my face. I swallowed and waited for him to say something. It felt like forever, standing in the hall and holding out for some words of wisdom.

  “Do you think it means something?” I finally asked.

  “No.”

  “But it’s my birthday. I’m seventeen now.”

  Chase’s eyes lowered to my necklace. He touched the stone with his fingers for a second. When his eyes came back up to meet mine, he dropped his hand.

  “Don’t worry, Zadie. As long as I’m around, you’re safe.”

  Chapter Three

  I heard Sable meowing before I saw her. The black cat sat staring out from behind the screen door of Lilura’s house. I hopped onto the porch and squinted, trying to see inside. It was still cloudy out, allowing very little light into the house, but I could just make out the silhouettes of furniture inside. I knocked on the frame of the screen door, making Sable jump back.

  “Lilura? Lilura, it’s me. Are you there?”

  No answer. I pushed down on the handle and let myself in. It was Monday, and I hadn’t seen her all weekend, but I came to her house practically every day after school, so I didn’t feel entirely odd walking in uninvited. Besides, we’d joined forces and made it through an extraordinary circumstance together; it was almost like we were family.

  The living room was drenched in shadow. The only noise I heard was the ticking of a clock. “Lilura?”

  Sable meowed and ran into the kitchen. Was Lilura in there? I didn’t know why I felt frightened. It was just like Lilura to be strange and silent. I headed to the kitchen to check. Everything was still, not a soul to be seen. I decided to take out a pair of teacups and wait at the dining room table for her to show up.

  A scraping noise made me freeze as I reached for the cups.

  “Hello? Who’s there?”

  Silence. I quietly placed the cups on the counter and closed the cabinet door. I had no reason to be afraid. If I felt safe anywhere in the world, it was in Lilura’s house. She probably had a protection spell covering every inch of the place.

  My breath hitched when a figure stepped out from the darkness of the dining room. He was alarmingly tall, dark blond hair slicked back on his head and stubble dotting his chin.

  I took a step back.

  His thick brows came down, and when he rubbed the back of his neck, I spotted a leather-studded band around his wrist.

  “Who—” My voice hitched. I tried again, pushing the fear out of my words. “Who are you?”

  It was probably a stupid question. Would an intruder really answer?

  The stranger smirked. I stood taller and straightened my shoulders. I defeated a Reaper, for God’s sake. This guy shouldn’t have frightened me.

  “Hunter, I asked you to put the kettle on. Stop messing around.” Lilura pushed past the man and hobbled toward me. I gaped at her in surprise, unsettled at her casual response to this man in her kitchen. The old woman grabbed the cups I’d taken out and walked back out of the kitchen without greeting me. The stranger watched her leave, then looked back at me, sticking his hands in his jeans pockets. His stoic expression reminded me of someone.

  “Wait. Who are you?” I asked again.

  He smirked. “I’m Hunter. Chase’s older and much more attractive brother.”

  Still a little put off by his appearance and boastful mannerisms, I took another step back as he reached for the teakettle. I let the information sink in while he filled it with water and set it on the stove.

  “Chase’s brother? I thought you were in Europe.”

  He turned toward me and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over a black Harley Davidson T-shirt. His biceps stretched out his short sleeves.

  “Was in Europe. Lilura actually called me out here months ago. I would have been here sooner, but I was finishing up a job, if you know what I mean. And I think you do,
since Lilura hasn’t shot your head off for trespassing.” His hand imitated a gun and aimed at me on the word “shot.” A tattoo of a flaming pair of dice on his forearm caught my eye.

  I pushed a strand of hair away from my face. “I’m Zadie.”

  “I figured that. Heard a lot about you from Chase.”

  My cheeks flared. “Oh. Yeah, he’s been training me.”

  “I bet he has.”

  “Hunter!” Lilura called from the dining room. “Tea.”

  His eyes never left me. “It’s not boiling yet, Nana.”

  I averted my eyes as I walked past him to join Lilura at the table. She glanced up at me momentarily, her messy gray and dark brown hair framing her face. I was used to Lilura’s usual hunched posture, but her back seemed more bowed than normal. Dark bags weighed down her eyes, and her crackled lips were practically white. She closed her eyes and covered her mouth with a trembling hand as she let out a round of liquid-sounding coughs. I sat down across from her and waited until the hacking stopped.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  She waved at me in dismissal. “I just need my tea. What’s taking so long?”

  “I wish more people were as patient as you are, Nana,” Hunter said as he leaned on the doorframe between the kitchen and dining room.

  Lilura leered at him. “If you don’t want me to come over there and kick your tuckus, you better go get me some damn tea.”

  Hunter chuckled and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Now,” she said to me. “Where did we leave off on Friday?”

  Like a good student, I placed my hands on the table and sat up straight. “Object manipulation.”

  She coughed into her hand while she nodded. I waited, pretending to be patient. Clearing her throat, she stood to retrieve the three objects I’d been training with: a feather, a pen, and a paperback book.

  She placed them on the table and dropped into the chair opposite me. For a moment, I could only stare at the objects.

  Lilura leaned forward. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Are you sure it’s safe to do this? I’m seventeen now.” I thought she’d say something about it being my birthday, something about me being in danger, about the increased possibility of a Reaper coming to get me, but she didn’t.

  “Have you had a stroke or something?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Well, it’s the only thing I can think of that would explain you forgetting how things work. The intent behind the magic counts. This is training; this is not using your power for selfish reasons.”

  “Isn’t gaining skills selfish?”

  “No, anything to do with saving lives is not selfish. Now shut up and get on with it already.”

  I took a deep breath and told myself to concentrate. I knew there wouldn’t be a problem manipulating the feather. I could make a whole tabletop’s worth of feathers float into the air—basic magic Lilura taught me to control when she first took me under her wing. So far, I had only been able to get the pen to roll back and forth across the table. I hadn’t even begun on the book.

  “Remember,” she said, noting how hard I was staring at the pen. “It’s not the pen itself you are manipulating. It is the air around it.”

  Right. The air. The elements. The witch blood that made up half my Vila existence was bound to the elements. It shouldn’t have mattered if it were a feather or pen or book I was working with; it was the air around the object that I needed to concentrate on. My stupid practical side was getting in the way of me succeeding at the task.

  Reminding myself how magical I was, I focused on the air around the pen.

  The tingle started in my veins. My skin prickled as the Vila energy surged through me. The pen rolled left, then right. I grunted. I had to push the air from two different directions, I realized. My hands balled into fists on the table as I willed the air to succumb to my command. One end of the pen lifted a centimeter off the table and then dropped. I focused harder, telling myself I could do this. My bones buzzed, and finally the pen inched upward.

  “Keep it up,” Lilura said, wiping her nose. “Raise it higher.”

  Elated that I was finally beginning to master the skill, I shifted in my seat and narrowed my eyes. I told myself to focus the crap out of the air beneath the pen. And the pen rose a foot more.

  The sound of the teakettle whistling threw off my concentration.

  The pen dropped to the table just as the front door opened. Chase entered the house followed by Mara. She was laughing at something he said, but I couldn’t make it out. They approached the table all smiles.

  Lilura looked over her shoulder at them. “Oh, fun. More company,” she said flatly.

  “How’s it going?” Mara asked.

  “Better,” I said. I expected Lilura to say something to the contrary, but she stayed silent.

  “Here’s your tea.” Hunter came out of the kitchen and set the kettle on the table.

  Lilura grabbed it from him and poured the steaming liquid into our cups. Mara wrinkled her nose.

  I smirked and pushed my teacup toward my sister. “This is for you, Mara. I’m going outside to practice with Chase.”

  “Mara,” Hunter repeated, gazing at my sister and crossing his arms over his chest again. “Zadie’s sister.”

  Mara looked at him as if he were an idiot. “Yeah. Who are you?”

  Chase sighed. “This is my brother.”

  Hunter sauntered around the table and reached for Mara’s hand. “Hunter Black. At the moment, the man of the house.” He lifted her hand to his lips, but just before it reached them, Mara snatched her hand away.

  “Hmm. Well, as I understand it, the men hold no power here.” Mara tilted her head. “Not compared to the women anyway.”

  I could have sworn Lilura stifled a chuckle. It was hard to tell with all the coughing.

  Hunter lifted his brows and gave Mara a half-smile. “Feisty.”

  Chase pulled a vial out of his trench coat pocket and placed it on the table in front of Lilura.

  “Perfect timing.” Lilura unstopped the vial and poured the liquid contents into her tea.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  Lilura’s eyes met mine for only a second. “Cough medicine.”

  “Homemade?”

  “You think I’d trust the idiots who box up their so-called remedies to sell in a drug store?” She stirred her tea and took a slow sip.

  “Right.” I stood and joined Chase. “Well, I hope you feel better.”

  When we got outside, I found the sun had finally come out, and I held my face up to catch the warm beams. Chase busied himself with preparing the crossbow and the quiver of arrows we used every day.

  “You said you have something special planned?”

  “Yeah. Why don’t you shoot a few first while I set it up?”

  “What is it?”

  He handed me the bow. “You’ll see. Just shoot.”

  I lifted the bow, swung an arrow into it, and adjusted the contraption at chest level. I squeezed one eye shut and lined up the target. My finger wrapped around the trigger. The quick zip of the arrow as it reached the target got my blood pumping.

  Just as the sixth arrow stuck in the bull’s-eye, a metallic object whirred by my head. I stepped back to focus on the flying device and heard Chase laugh.

  “What the hell is that?” I asked.

  “Your new target.” He held some kind of remote in his hands, flipping levers with his thumbs. “I devised it from a helicopter toy. Check it out. I stripped the insides and put a red and white target where the door would be. It’s made out of corkboard. Think you can hit it?”

  The helicopter flew back and forth across the yard. The target was tiny, about the size of a teacup saucer. The challenge wasn’t just the small target, but the fact that it was constantly moving.

  “Well?” Chase looked like a kid with a new toy. Which he was, I supposed.

  “I get the challenge, but Reapers are usuall
y a lot bigger.”

  “Come on, Zadie. Hit the target.”

  I drew in a deep breath and pursed my lips. Shaking my head, I flipped an arrow into the crossbow. Following the zigzagging of the helicopter, I mumbled under my breath.

  “Try to keep your aim right in front of the target,” Chase said. “Like you’re leading it.”

  I shifted my aim to the nose of the helicopter, tracking it for a moment, and then pulled on the trigger. The arrow swished through the air right behind the target, and I pouted. As if teasing me, Chase flew the helicopter closer, zooming past my face. I growled at him and grabbed another arrow.

  The second shot missed. Then something occurred to me. The air. Control the air around the helicopter. I held the crossbow up, arrow in place, and my finger caressed the trigger. My veins tingled with magic as I concentrated on the air around Chase’s toy. The helicopter slowed. Staggered. I took my shot. As the tip of the arrow pierced the corkboard, the helicopter was jostled but kept flying. Chase brought the contraption to land on the grass.

  “Not bad,” he said. “Let’s see how you do in expert mode.”

  After a half hour of target practice and two incidents of scraping the nose of the helicopter instead of the corkboard, the toy’s battery died. We packed the supplies up in the garage and headed inside. Before I could reach for the door, Chase put a hand on my arm.

  “Wait. I have something for you.”

  I looked at him sideways. “You do?”

  He reached into his trench coat pocket and pulled out a rectangular box. Shrugging, he handed it to me, then rubbed the back of his neck as I opened it.

  Nestled in the box was a shiny switchblade. The silver handle was engraved with a “Z.”

  “Something I picked up in Asia. Highly illegal, FYI, so don’t get caught with it.”

  “Why are you giving it to me?”

  “It’s your birthday.”

  I smirked. “And this is your idea of a thoughtful gift?”

  “What’s a better gift than one that might help you survive?”