Reaping Day: Book Three of the Harvesters Series

by Luke R. Mitchell

  He was met with heavy silence and sullen stares that said everyone would just as soon Johnny cut it out and let them all wallow in their eminent doom.

  Jarek took a deep breath and resisted the urge to let it out in a sigh.

  What they needed was a morale boost, and, as completely as he’d failed to prevent the devastation around them, he’d be damned if he wouldn’t help now.

  So Jarek patted the hilt of his sword and stepped into the center of the loose huddle with Johnny. “You’ve got my Whacker at your six, Red.”

  “Interesting choice of words,” Johnny said, “but I’ll take it.”

  Jarek shot an expectant look at Rachel and tilted his head to the spot beside him.

  She gave a little shake of her head.

  He gestured more emphatically, and, with a hard roll of her eyes, she took a half-step toward them.

  “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Guess you’ve got my staff back here too, alien boy.”

  “See?” Johnny said toward his fellow Enochians. “I told you guys the aliens had a thing for putting things in strange places. C’mon, guys. Hop off those mope-mobiles.”

  With deliberate motions, Elise drew her staff, extended it with a springing pop, and twisted once more to deploy the vicious spear head at one end. “You’ve got my spear up front.”

  “Ah,” Johnny said. “Looks like it’s gonna be a rough day for Johnny.”

  Franco and the other Enochians filled in behind Elise.

  That left only Haldin and Alton.

  “Buddy?” Johnny said.

  Haldin sighed and stepped in. “This is kind of ridiculous, but of course I’m with you.”

  “Phew,” Johnny said, “that would’ve been super awkward otherwise.”

  Alton shot a glance at Rachel and stepped into the huddle almost self-consciously.

  “C’mon, Stumpy,” Jarek called. “You too.”

  Drogan frowned at him and looked over at Lietha before stepping in one step closer.

  “Okay.” Johnny stuck his hand into the center of the huddle. “Bring it in, guys. Yes, I’m serious.”

  Slowly, they each stepped closer, adding hands to the pile. Drogan was the last, hesitantly looking between the huddle and Lietha over by the crashed ship until he finally extended a single finger into the huddle.

  “Shit, guys,” Johnny said once they were all in. “I’m not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping we were all about to agree to run for it. But now that we’re all here …”

  “Crazy bastards on three?” Elise said.

  Johnny smiled. “Crazy bastards on three.”

  Johnny counted, and they all cried the mantra with energy none of them probably truly felt—or most of them did, at least. Drogan’s and Phineas’ voices seemed oddly absent from the energetic display, and Rachel’s mumble was only barely audible.

  As soon as they broke their huddle, what little energy they’d conjured evanesced in a blink, and the inevitable weight settled back on Jarek’s heart.

  Team spirit and well-meant promises to one another aside, people were still dead. Far too many of them. And the rakul were only getting started.

  Jarek had failed today. And as terrible as he felt, he knew the full weight of it hadn’t yet settled over him.

  An entire village. Hundreds—maybe even a thousand—dead and gone. Kole and his clan. All gone.

  And for what?

  They needed to do something, to dust themselves off and get moving—warn Al’Brandt in the Himalayas or get back to HQ and sharpen their sticks. Because, hopeless or not, they had a rakul out there that needed killing, and plenty more to come.

  But first they needed to round up Lietha. The raknoth still didn’t look far off from rampage mode, his eyes ablaze and his body caught between pale brown skin and mint green hide.

  When Lietha kneeled down and began laboriously tearing off one of his dead clan member’s ruined heads, Jarek worried it was a lot more than anger issues they had on their hands.

  Had Lietha lost it? Gone mad with grief?

  He was about to ask Drogan when he and Alton went over and joined Lietha in tearing off more heads.

  “Dude …” Rachel said quietly. “What the fuck?”

  “They leave their dead floating in space,” Haldin said. “Kind of like how you guys bury yours in the ground. They call it the void. It’s … sort of sacred to them.”

  So that’s what all that cursed void stuff was about?

  Jarek didn’t have long to think about it before a particularly horrendous ripping sound pulled him back to the moment with a cringe.

  “Fair enough,” Jarek said. “But what’s with the heads?”

  “It’s where the majority of their true bodies take up residence in their human vessels” Haldin said. “From what I understand, it’s pretty hard to disentangle raknoth from human if they die inside, so in that case, they take the head.”

  Jarek looked at Hal, wondering not for the first time what the hell he’d been through to learn all of this.

  “I’ve seen enough raknoth die,” Hal said in answer to Jarek’s stare. “And a year’s a long time to spend couped up in a ship with one.”

  Fair enough.

  Lietha came for Kole’s head last and collected it with tender care. When the gruesome work was done and the heads all loaded aboard Kole’s ship, Alton returned to them to tell them that Drogan and Lietha were going up to release the fallen to the void and that it shouldn’t take long.

  They watched the raknoth ship hum to life and lift up, shaky at first but quickly stabilizing as it soared up and up.

  Jarek watched until the pinpoint of the distant ship was lost to sight, then he turned toward the dark columns of Katashina’s dying breaths and went to wait.

  Given their casual ease with dispensing it to others, Rachel hadn’t imagined the raknoth would overly stand on ceremony where death was concerned. Whatever raknoth funeral rites consisted of, though, it apparently wasn’t a ten minute affair. Then again, she also wasn’t exactly sure how deep they’d go into space and how long it would take to simply get there and back again.

  All she really knew was that it had been foolish to go running off halfway across the world with a pair of raknoth on what, at best, had been a long shot at rescuing Kole. At worst, it had been exactly the kind of reaction Kul’Gada had been hoping to elicit.

  Even now, the Kul could be headed straight for HQ. That would be just their luck, wouldn’t it? And if the party got started while she, Jarek, and the Enochians were all sky gazing in Japan …

  Not for the first time, she found her gaze lingering on Alton, wondering if the raknoth could feel his master right now, could hear him whispering commands in his ear.

  Her conventional understanding of telepathy told her that was impossible unless Gada happened to be hiding nearby. No human telepath could ever hope to consciously reach more than maybe a mile, but the rakul—as well as all the raknoth ships, as she understood it—had the messengers, and those ethereal little sprites, whatever the hell they were, meant the rules she knew were out the window.

  Case in point, the furor that had gripped HQ and the surrounding area for miles—to the best of their knowledge before Gada had even arrived on the planet.

  Alton shook his head at something Haldin said to him, and Rachel forced herself to look away and down at the uninteresting boarding ramp she was sitting on.

  Could the rakul really still be holding all the strings?

  If so, the raknoth were putting on a good show, pretending to fight back. But that’s what they did, wasn’t it? From planet to planet, species to species, they put on good shows. They snatched a body and slid in. They made themselves unquestionably part of The Team. And then, when the time was right, they called in their masters to come revel in the hunt.

  They were intergalactic turncoats for Christ’s sake.

  And sure, there was the matter of their recently acquired blood ties with humankind that suggested this time might be different—that the
very survival of the raknoth was dependent on this time being different. But was that enough? Enough to trust their scaly allies after everything?

  She kneaded her brows with her palms and shook her head, attempting to cast the thoughts away like beading drips of water.

  Whether or not she could trust they were all on the same side, none of them were doing anyone any good sitting here atop the quiet mountain, as peaceful as it was.

  They needed to get back.

  She looked over to the right, where Jarek had trekked a little way off on the pretense of going to enjoy the grassy ledge that overlooked Katashina.

  Given the unmissable columns of smoke still rising from the village, though, and the defeated slump of Jarek’s shoulders, Rachel highly doubted there was anything resembling enjoyment going on in his head right now.

  She should go to him.

  For half a second, she wanted to do more than that. Thoughts and images flicked through her head, the two of them alone atop this mountain, locking themselves in Jarek’s ship and forgetting everything else, losing themselves in pleasures that required no thoughts, no pain and strife and—

  As quickly as they sprang up, she quashed those thoughts with cold deliberateness.

  None of that was going to happen. Not when they had alien claws at their fronts and their backs. Not when any moment could see Gada or any of the other rakul dropping down on top of them or sending in a raging horde of innocent civilians.

  Not when there was every reason to believe he could wind up dead tomorrow—hell, today even.

  What she needed to do was go dust him off enough that he could get his shit together, get back to home base, and be ready to move when Gada reared his head again. So with that thought held firmly in mind, Rachel stood, brushed off whatever dirt might have clung to her butt, and stomped down the ramp and toward Jarek’s perch.

  Gentle quietness pressed in around her as she left the ships and the sounds of conversation from Michael and the Enochians behind her faded to little more than distant murmurs. With the light breeze on her cheeks and the soft grass underfoot, it would have been utterly peaceful out there if not for the sinister smoke columns ahead and the smells of charred wreckage that wafted in on that easy breeze.

  Jarek didn’t turn as she approached, not even when she was reasonably sure he’d heard her coming. She sank to the grass beside him wordlessly, sitting close, but not quite touching.

  What’s up? The words hung on her tongue, unneeded. There was no point asking him what he was thinking about, what was bothering him. The blackened remains of Katashina in the distance below shouted all the answer she required. So she sat quietly for a little while, trusting Jarek would speak when he was ready.

  “I just wanted to save the crazy old bastard,” he finally said after some time. “And now”—he waved an armored hand helplessly toward Katashina—“all this …”

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “I know.”

  He turned slowly, his eyes refusing to leave the scene stretched out before them. When they finally did, his gaze flicked first to her hand and then to meet her eyes. “But?”

  She relinquished her touch on his shoulder and folded her hands in her lap. Was it really that evident in her tone? Or was Jarek just tuned to her -isms well enough that she couldn’t slide her doubts and hesitations past his scrutiny?

  “Well,” she said quietly, “Kole did have every chance to save himself.”

  When she paused from pointedly studying her folded hands to shoot a glance his way, Jarek’s gaze was piercing, and she didn’t hold it long.

  “What happened between you and Alton?” he asked.

  She did her best to keep the ripple of shock from rising from her gut up to her face. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  In the edge of her peripheral vision, he shrugged. “You’ve just seemed a bit miffed. Okay, pissed. More than usual, I mean.”

  “They killed my family.”

  The words poured from her mouth like angry gouts of flame before she’d even thought to say them. She glanced back toward the ships, wondering if Alton had heard the words she hadn’t meant to let out.

  “I think it’s safe to say I have good reason to be a little skeptical,” she added quickly, focusing back on Jarek. “And I’d think you would be too after our friend”—she tilted her head in Alton’s direction—“nearly pulped you back at HQ.”

  Jarek nodded slowly, looking less than convinced. “Maybe so. And I wholeheartedly agree you have more reason to be pissed than most. But I’m not really sure what that has to do with Kole.”

  “I’m just saying we need to be careful. And remember who has and hasn’t tried to kill us in recent past.”

  “I’m not sure we have the luxury of keeping our allies at arm’s distance for the rakul apocalypse, Rache. You don’t trust them, I get it. But—”

  She jerked her hands up. “But what? You’re seriously going to lecture me about trusting allies after you disobeyed a direct order and ran off to save a raknoth? And what good did that do, by the way?”

  The weight of her words caught up to her, and she started to look away, suddenly embarrassed. Jarek beat her to it. The shadow that descended over his face told her she’d crossed a line, but he didn’t snap back at her, didn’t even crack a joke. He just turned back to the embers of Katashina and hung his head.

  Why had she said that? She’d made her point. Taking the extra shot had been unnecessary. Mean, even.

  But how could he be standing up for them after everything? It was irrational. Naïve. Everything Jarek pretended not to be.

  Wasn’t it?

  “Jarek, I didn’t—”

  “No need to apologize, Goldilocks.” He didn’t look up. “You’re right.”

  “It’s not your fault, Jarek.” She waved a hand at the village below. “You didn’t do this.”

  “No.” He shook his head, looking like he didn’t remotely believe her words or his own. “I didn’t.”

  Silence stretched between them as Rachel tried and failed to think of anything to say that wouldn’t be redundant and utterly useless. Anything she said would only make it worse. She silently cursed Kole for his harebrained peace plan.

  Minutes stretched by, and she found herself looking back at Alton, unable to help but think she wouldn’t have shed tears if it had been him instead of Kole. Would that really have made anything any better, though? Was it really Alton she was even angry with?

  She turned back to face the village.

  Sure, Alton had been complicit with the operation, and tangentially involved, but he hadn’t been the one who’d hounded her mom out into the woods, sent men after her family, and pushed her until she’d been desperate enough to do what she’d done to rescue Rachel.

  Alton hadn’t been the one. But he was the only one left, if what he told her of his clan was all true.

  A subtle rise in the barely audible hum of chatter back by the ships caught her attention. Beside her, Jarek was listening intently, aided by Fela’s enhanced feedback.

  “It’s HQ,” he said to her questioning gaze.

  She turned and saw Michael come around Jarek’s ship at a jog, headed their way and waving a hand in a we gotta go fashion.

  “It’s the furor,” Jarek said, rising to his feet. “It’s happening again.”

  Ten

  Jarek watched the dark purplish material of the raknoth door hatch wriggle its way closed and suppressed a shudder. He let the tension out as a long sigh instead, looking around the rather spartan room.

  He’d have preferred to make the return journey on his ship, but given that time seemed to be of vital essence right now, they’d opted to all pile into the Enochians’ ship and bolt back. Jarek’s ship was following at its own pace, flown by the ghostly remnant of Al they kept on board the ship’s computer for situations like this—the entity he and Al called “Ship Al.”

  And so here he was, lurking in the first empty room he’d found.

 
Aside from the odd assortment of rune-etched knick-knacks and dark staves that suggested this might be Hal and Elise’s quarters, the room consisted of little more than a bed and a few drawers.

  That was just fine. It wasn’t like he’d wandered into the quiet room seeking a view.

  Why did he feel this terrible?

  So they’d let Kole down. It wasn’t as if Jarek had never made major league mistakes or let people down before. Hell, in his bright-eyed teens, he’d accidentally thrown in with a band of veritable psychopaths thinking he was actually going to save the world from itself. Compared to that …

  It was only one old raknoth, right?

  One old raknoth, his loyal clan, and an entire village of innocent people, actually.

  The weight of it all pressed back in, pushing him down to sit on the bed and bury his face in his hands.

  He’d been too late. And now god knew how many people were going through the shit back at HQ, and they were going to be far too late to help them too, super-fast raknoth ship or no.

  They’d fucked up. He’d fucked up.

  It was the truth. He couldn’t fight it. And much as the thought made him want to test the durability of the nearest iridescent purplish wall, there was nothing he could do about it now.

  For once, he should have listened to Alaric.

  Footsteps approached from the corridor outside, light and hesitant—Rachel’s, he guessed. They paused outside the hatch, and he pictured her raising her hand uncertainly to knock.

  No knock came, though, before the hatch disentangled itself from the wall and peeled back to reveal a tight-faced Rachel.

  It wasn’t a mystery how she’d known which room to try—his mind might be warded from her senses, but Fela wasn’t, and he could only imagine the exosuit stuck out like a sore thumb once Rachel had learned what to look—or feel—for.

  She padded into the room, avoiding his eyes until she stood in front of him and no longer could. She looked tired, and not a little bit like she didn’t want to be there just now.