Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1)

by Cecilia Robert

  “Hostiles, on the other hand, are souls that escape before we can get to them. They have no desire to leave this life. So they latch onto any breathing thing. Even animals. No one, human or otherwise, can survive two souls fighting for supremacy in one body. If you feel you are in danger, wield it as though your life depends on that knife.”

  I grab the bedpost, as the information sinks in. “Would the Hostiles attack my family, my friends? Why would I attract them?” I imagine some cloud rushing on someone with a single-minded intent to occupy a body, and I shudder.

  “They could use anyone’s body, but prefer a body that has a long life. With you being cured—”

  “Cured?”

  He tilts his head. “Cured of mortality. Immortal, if you prefer. With you being cured—like any other Collector—you are an attraction to their greedy appetites.”

  Does he have to make it sound like being mortal is a sickness? I shake my head and scan the dagger with its wicked sharp edge and smooth handle. I’ve never seen something so plain yet beautiful and… scary. I lift my eyes to his.

  “But, I can’t—”

  “You can and you will. You are a natural, Novice.” He starts to pace. “The ball is on Monday at midnight. Siegfried will come for you. I believe you found everything you needed in town on Friday?”

  It takes a moment to realise he’s switched the topic. I nod and eye the thing in my hands. Where do I hide it? What if any member of my family discovers it? How do I wield it? And a natural? Could anything be more cryptic?

  “What did you mean—?” The pine scent tickles my nose. I snap my gaze up. He’s gone. I quickly scan the room, while listening for any movement within the house. Where do I hide it? Where would anyone avoid?

  I hurry to the wardrobe, pull open the drawer overflowing with my underwear, and tuck it in the very back. Then rearrange everything back as it was. That will do until I know what to do with it.

  ***

  It’s 6:45 a.m. What would Zaynab think if I showed up on her doorstep at this hour? I grab my mobile and dial her number. It rings and rings. Disconnects. I toss the mobile on the bed, tug my hair back, and slump on the bed. My eyes drop to my wrists, tracing the freshly done daisy tattoos with my fingers.

  What the hell’s going on? There’s Grim’s eagerness to trade souls—or was it normal for him to do this? Not that I regret it. Then there’s Rolf’s violent episode, Schuster’s odd reaction to the music sheets, and Schulz and Frau Ivasec, two people I’ve never seen even say hello to each, arguing passionately in the hallway. That in itself might not be unusual, but the words spoken were strange. Schulz said something about a keeper. Then there’s Zaynab’s confession. She spoke about a veil and Fates. From who and why?

  I drop my head in my hands, clenching my jaw to block the throbbing pain hovering at the edges of my skull. I lift my head and look at the clock.

  Now it’s 6:55 a.m. At least an hour and a half before everyone rolls out of bed. After splashing cold water to wake me up, I grab my purse from the computer table. Downstairs, I slip on my sneakers and dart out the front door.

  Sunday traffic is a pain. It takes me forty-five minutes to get to Zaynab’s flat in the seventh district. It takes about ten more minutes to realise either she isn’t at home or she’s in a coma-like sleep. It’s not like I was subtle with my knocking. If only Reiner were here. He has a way around locked doors. If I had any idea how to ghost, I’d be inside the flat this minute.

  God, am I so desperate? Would I break in just to get information? The answer flashes in my mind. I snort, disgusted. The depths I’ve sunk.

  I turn to leave, but freeze. Crouching, I follow the black marks gouged on the hallway in front of her door. I squint closely, tracing a finger on the marks. Definitely not marks. Powder or ash. I rub the tips of my fingers, lift them to my nose, and jerk back as a vinegar-like odour slams into me, making my eyes tear up.

  Ten more minutes, I’m still clueless about the ash and if Zaynab is inside or not. People begin to stir inside the other flats. I duck through the emergency stairwell door and retrace my steps down the stairs. I curse the broken-down lift and the fact that I’m returning home information-less. I stumble out of the main doors, round the seven-story house, and slump on the wall.

  This is not happening. She must be inside. All I have to do is come back later.

  I push off the wall, my hands curled into fists. Gah! I hate this. I swing my right leg back, give the wall a swift kick, and hop around as the pain spreads from my foot up my leg and body. I squeeze my eyes shut. Much better than focusing on my frustration.

  I spin around, wincing as my weight settles on my throbbing foot, and limp to the Westbahnhof U-Bahn station.

  ***

  “Want to talk about what’s making you glower at everyone?” Mom asks as she arranges freshly baked croissants on a tray. I should have known lingering inside the kitchen wouldn’t give me the peace I crave. “Lea and Reiner are giving you a wide berth. Rolf seems to prefer to play with Lucy and her dolls.”

  I fold my arms across my chest and slouch on the fridge’s surface. “Lucy and Rolf always play princess party at Sunday brunch, Mom. It’s a part of their ritual.” I peeked in the room a few minutes ago to check if Rolf was, well, the normal version I know.

  She flashes me a smile. “I know. Lucy adores him. Still, would you like to talk?”

  “No.” I yank open the cutlery drawer in front of me, grab spoons, knives, and forks and place them on the tray containing Apfelstrudel. I look up. Mom’s holding the dishcloth to her chest, her eyes on me.

  “What’s going on, Ana?”

  “Nothing.” I squelch the urge to walk out of the kitchen. She’ll only follow me and insist on talking.

  “You burnt half the pack of toast today, your room looks worse than Anton’s, and you walk as if you’re dragging the whole world with you. You want to tell me that’s nothing?” She places the cloth on the counter next to the sink, strolls forwards, and halts. “Are you and Rolf doing okay? Your father told me he found you and Rolf on the bed.” I open my mouth to protest. She holds her hand up, her lips twitching. “You know how your father is. I know nothing happened.”

  “And we were fully dressed,” I add.

  “I know. Your father is very protective. Is that why you’re upset?”

  I roll my eyes.

  “So, are you and Rolf doing all right?”

  I don’t know how to begin answering that, so I nod. I wish she’d cease her prodding.

  “He’s still this sexy, loving, kissable dream boy?” Mom clasps her hands together and bats her eyelashes.

  I must have been really giddy when I said that last year after my first date with Rolf. Mom takes pleasure in those words whenever she wants me to smile or loosen up and talk to her. Usually I do, but right now I want to bury myself under my bedcovers with a pillow around my head and forget the world for a few minutes. “I love him so much,” I whisper.

  Mom’s teasing smile blinks out. She bridges the gap between us and grasps my shoulders. “Love? You’re too young to think so seriously, Silvana.” Her voice is gentle. My heart twists at those words.

  “You don’t know how I feel, Mom. You’re not me.” I twist away, but she grasps my shoulders firmly and frowns.

  “You might not believe this, but I was young once. Felt the same things you feel now. Like if anything happens, it’d be the end of the world.” Does she know how spot-on she is about that? “If you say you love him, then I’m backing you one hundred percent. Your father will as well. Grudgingly. Just be careful, all right?”

  This niceness is even worse. I have nowhere to direct my frustrations. I want us to argue about the dangers of having a serious boyfriend at seventeen. I need to hear her disapprove like she always does. She doesn’t. She’s taken away the chance for me to let it all out. What do I do now?

  I wrap my arms around her waist and hug her tight. I squeeze my eyes shut and take deep breaths.

  M
om wraps her arms around me. She just holds me and mutters, “It’s all right” over and over. Moments later, I pull away. Mom peers down at me, pushing the curls back from my forehead. “Sometimes I can’t stop myself from giving you advice. You’re my baby and always will be. And I worry. That’s a mother’s job. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head.

  “Good. Now help me take this out in the garden. Then go look for your boy.”

  I smile. Or rather I think I do. “Are Oma and Opa coming today?”

  She glances up at the clock above the kitchen doorway. “They cancelled. Your grandfather wasn’t feeling well. His heart’s been bothering him again.”

  Again? I don’t remember him having any problems before. What if something happens to him? What if… I shake my head, but the question lingers. What if he dies? Now that I know all about soul collecting, seen the soul depart the body… I shudder. Mom darts me a look. “I hope he feels better soon.”

  I duck out of the kitchen before she can see how upset I am by the news and lock myself in the bathroom. I drop on the toilet seat. I can’t remember the last time I really prayed. But now, I do. Furiously.

  Minutes later, I walk inside Lucy’s room and pause. Rolf’s perched on a tiny pink wooden chair, a miniature purple plastic cup in his right hand and a saucer in his left. Everything in me strains towards him as I watch him play ‘princess house’ with my sister. My eyes linger on his neatly combed hair. My fingers itch. Does it have to look so perfect? I sigh, my eyes taking in the dove grey V-neck T-shirt, how it hugs his upper arms and chest, and the navy blue khaki cargo shorts showing off his long toned legs. He looks completely out of place in the small room, yet manages to fit right in.

  “Like this?” Rolf asks, his pinkie finger sticking out.

  Lucy giggles. “Nooo, Ro. Let me show you.” She rises elegantly from her chair and flattens her frilly pink and white dress. “Like this.” She tugs his pinkie finger straight, flashes a satisfied smile, then lowers herself daintily on her seat. They take sips from their cups.

  He’s so patient. Lucy would trample all over him, and he’d take it in stride. Right now he looks so normal, like my Rolf. Not the angry, two-sided Rolf.

  He turns, locks eyes with mine, and winks. My breath catches in my throat. He turns to Lucy. “Princess Lu, my escort has arrived. May I be excused?”

  Lucy looks over her shoulder at me and nods regally. “Yes, Your Highness.” He stands and bows. When Lucy skips over to me, I reflexively grab her hand before Rolf can slip his in mine. He looks at me and frowns, his eyes searching mine. The expression smoothes out and he shoves his hands in his pockets. We head downstairs. Lucy continues babbling all the way, but the words fly past me. He noticed. He always holds my hand. I shouldn’t have avoided his hand, but I couldn’t help it. Talking on the phone yesterday was less awkward than this. Because I couldn’t see his face, it felt safe. Now, remembering that incident in my room… it just feels uncomfortable.

  My foot hits the bottom step. Something moves from the corner of my eye. I double back and blink several times, my pulse racing.

  Zig, looking quite at home, is leaning on the humongous walnut tree in the garden. His lips spread into a lazy smile as if he’s in the right place at the right time. He waves two fingers at me.

  I groan inwardly. What is he doing here? Is he concealed? I peek outside. Everyone’s either eating, chatting, or laughing.

  I turn around. Rolf’s eyes are on mine. He tilts his head and frowns. Those sharp eyes of his dart over my shoulder in Zig’s direction. Did he just sniff the air? Can he sense Zig? His eyes narrow and shift to mine.

  Oh crap.

  “YOU TWO GO AHEAD. I need to use the bathroom.” I push Lucy’s small hand in Rolf’s.

  He stares at me, eyes dark and searching. A thousand chest-splitting heartbeats later, he nods. “Come on, Lu. I’m hungry as a bear.” Lucy giggles and skips as they head out to the garden through the back door.

  Once their footsteps and voices fade, I dart downstairs. Could he really sense Zig? Crazy. That’s what Zig gets for coming to my house. I’m going to strangle him.

  “Lover boy’s turning out to be the interesting sort.” I jump at the voice in my ear.

  “Jesus, Zig. I told you not to creep up on me.”

  “You really need to stop being jumpy. Otherwise your survival chances in the Afterworld are zero. Well, technically, you won’t die. You can’t die. But you’ll be traumatized for life. Not a good thing.” I ignore him, grab his trench sleeve, and pull him around the corner, towards the bathroom on the ground floor. “Oh, forceful, I like.” I wheel around and get blasted by his wide, bright smile.

  “Cut it out, Zig. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m on a break.”

  I blink. “So you thought to spend it stalking me?”

  He leans on the wall. “I invited myself over. See, it’s hot out and that walnut tree is just too inviting.” His smile widens. I narrow my eyes. “Come on, lovely Ana. I wanted…” He drags a hand through his hair and looks away. “Is it so bad for me to be here? I just wanted to… feel.” His shoulders slump forwards.

  “Feel what? What if your concealment slips and someone sees you? I can’t handle this. Please, don’t do this to me.” I lean around him to look if anyone came in while I was scolding him. I’d look insane if anyone came in and found me talking to myself. Voices drift in from the open windows and door.

  “No one can see me.” He pauses, leans with one booted foot propped on the wall, and crosses his arms over his chest. Mom would kill him for that. “The first time Grim told me about you, about what you did for your family, I couldn’t understand why. Why you’d trade your soul for theirs, contract your soul for eternity as a Soul Collector.” He drops his leg from the wall, strolls soundlessly to the kitchen, and glances out the kitchen window. “I now understand why.” He turns to face me, and my breath stills in my throat. His eyes are etched with lines at the corners.

  “I couldn’t let go of my family,” I say. “I’m selfish.”

  Zig shifts his gaze to me. “You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, yet you agreed to trade your soul without hesitation. I call that brave. Stupid but brave.”

  I glare at him. “You had to go and spoil that sentence, didn’t you?”

  He laughs, then stares out the window, absorbing the life happening outside. Everyone will start wondering where I am. I open my mouth, but he beats me to it. “Something’s not right with lover boy.”

  My pulse races madly. “What do you mean?”

  “Something’s off. I don’t know exactly what, but something is.”

  The scene in my room flashes through my mind. His frequent errands. “What do you think is wrong with him?”

  Zig shakes his head and frowns. “Not sure. Something about him is familiar, yet not. I hadn’t noticed this before, but now…” He breathes out.

  I bite my lower lip. “Why did Ernest choose me, Zig?”

  Zig blinks twice and tugs his right earlobe. “Who knows why Ernest does things?” He shifts on his feet, staring at his shiny black boots. “You’ve seen so much death. More than your average seventeen-year-old. Maybe that could be a reason?”

  Liar. “You two have been housemates for years, Zig. Did you find anything about Ernest’s meetings?”

  Zig rubs his forehead, sighing. “Yesterday, I swung by his library and just like every other time, I couldn’t hear anything. It’s like whatever they talk about inside there is top secret, given the heavy spell surrounding the door. Gods, this is so frustrating!”

  I swallow my disappointment. His eyes glaze over and then focus once again. “Just received collections instructions. You and I begin concealment and shifting tomorrow. I’ll hop by school. I will try to get information about what is going on.” And then he shifts. I blink at the empty space, fists clenched. Zig is the most exhausting person I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.

/>   What does all that mean? I hope he’ll have more information tomorrow.

  After checking myself in the mirror to make sure I look normal—as normal as I can be—I take a deep breath and walk into the garden.

  Outside, everyone’s already seated. Anton sits on Rolf’s right, talking excitedly—probably about hockey—around a full mouth. Rolf’s gaze meets mine, his eyes unreadable.

  Physically, he looks fine. But what’s going on internally? In the last year since we’ve known each other, getting him to open up was like trying to crack a huge rock with bare hands. I’ve always thought it was the pain of losing a parent, but obviously there’s more. And it’s scaring me. I don’t know what to do, or who to talk to about it. We need to talk. But how to begin?

  I grab a plate and follow my nose to the buffet Mom set, heading for Dad’s special gravy. Dad’s an excellent cook but only when he’s in the mood to cook.

  ***

  “You watching the mountain bike tryouts tonight?” Reiner asks Rolf as he gulps spoonfuls of gravy.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Rolf says, eyes shining with excitement. “I doubt anyone will break Kimdane’s record.”

  Lea rolls her eyes. “Which means I’ll be ignored for the next decade.”

  “It’s Kimdane, Lea,” Reiner says, as if that says it all. “Besides, the quarterfinals begin in August. I have some time for you, sweetheart.” He smiles and leans back, throwing his arm around Lea’s shoulder.

  “Wow, don’t I feel lucky.”

  Kimdane. A household name. Eighteen years of age, dark eyes, dark hair, lip ring on his lower lip, and a don’t-care attitude. He’s a professional mountain biker who has broken his own record two times, along with breaking several parts of his body numerous times while performing stunts. Wherever he goes, hearts shatter like glass. Or so the rumour goes. He’s Reiner and Rolf’s obsession. Their eyes gleam at the mention of Kimdane’s name. Like now. The mountain bike tryouts begin tonight in Salzburg. As they do every year, Reiner and Rolf will meet up to watch.