I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. “If his grumpiness isn’t over by the time I come back, I’m calling the doctor. Crabbiness is infectious.” Anton glares at me.
I return ten minutes later to find Reiner pacing. He stops as soon as he sees me.
“Hey, I’m heading over to Lea’s.” He scoots around me as if I’m contagious.
“You okay, Rein?”
“Sure.” He twists to look over his shoulder. “See you later?”
I nod. Strange. Usually, he’d offer to give me a lift and tease me if I refuse to get onto his scooter.
I look at Anton. “Did anything happen between you two?”
He lifts his head from his twiddling fingers and blows out a breath. “He promised to bring over some photography stuff.”
“And you’re angry because…?”
“He didn’t!” He clenches his fists, panting. “He promised.” He looks like he’s about to cry.
“Hey.” I take his hands in mine. He’s usually moody, but this is taking it to a whole new level. “I’m sure he’ll bring them when you get home.” He nods after a few moments. “I know just what you need. Be right back, okay?” He lifts his head and nods.
When I return with a plate and fork, Zig is already back on the windowsill. I slice a piece of the cake. For the first time since I entered the room, Anton’s eyes light up.
Minutes later, Anton yawns, his eyes glazing. I hug him and leave, with Zig on my heels.
“Why the frown?” Zig asks.
“I’m not frowning.” I stop to let a woman in a wheelchair pass.
“You look as if someone danced all over your toes.”
I push thoughts of Anton aside to digest later. “Have you learned anything about Rolf?”
He rubs his neck. “Yeah, about that…” He gives me a sidelong glance. “Nothing. It’s weird, you know?” He shakes his head. “His eyes. Well, don’t get me wrong, my eyes are much prettier than his—”
“Modesty, my friend.”
He laughs. “I’ve only seen one set of eyes that colour. Specifically.”
My heart flips inside my chest. “Whose?”
He shakes his head. “I might be wrong about this. I want to be certain before I tell you, all right?”
I bite the corner of my lower lip. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“Chill. I’ll tell you as soon as I confirm, okay?” He holds his hand out. “Ready to go jumping?”
I stare at his hand. I should go check on Rolf first, but I want to practise in case Grim decides to “push me off the edge of the nest”. So far our nightly collections are going well. I nod.
Seconds later, we’re standing on top of a two-storey house, in unfamiliar surroundings. I turn to Zig, eyebrows raised.
“Some place in Upper Austria. Thought we’d start small.” He cocks his head. “No one is home.”
“It’s not right to just climb up people’s roofs.”
“Would you prefer landing on people’s heads?” He moves to the edge of the roof. “Ready to jump? We could shop around for a one-storey house. Toddler stuff.”
Lea’s words taunt me. I want to do something wonderfully shocking. This feels like it. Then why is my mouth so dry? “Let’s do it.”
Without warning, Zig extends his arms and throws himself off the ledge. I shriek and scramble to look. He’s on the ground, unharmed and grinning.
I want to strangle him.
He shifts back onto the tiled roof.
I whirl to face him. “It’s official. You’re trying to kill me.”
“Aw, stop being melodramatic. Come on. This is initiation.”
I tilt my head slightly. “Says who?”
“Me. I make up the rules. And you are my first initiate.”
I sidle back to the edge again, peek down, and straighten. I could sprain an ankle, break a leg…
I watch Zig drop on the ground effortlessly, then shift back repeatedly, grinning giddily.
Looks like fun. Looks dangerous. I spend another five minutes convincing myself. Without warning, Zig grabs my hand, and we jump. When we shift back on the roof, my throat is sore from screaming.
I’m trembling with adrenaline, and I’m on fire. I want to do this again. We repeat the process several times. When he lets me try on my own, I launch myself off the roof, hit the ground with my feet, lose balance, and fall flat on my face. I concentrate to shift and make it up to the roof before jumping again. I lose my balance every time. Zig drops on his knees with his arms clutched around his stomach, laughing so hard.
I clench my jaw. I’ll show him that I can be as good as him. I try five more times. On the last try, I land on my ankle, twisting it. The pain is like hell. Zig flies down, crouches beside me and places both hands on my foot. I bite my cheek to stop myself from screaming.
“This will go easier if you relax,” Zig says, moving his fingers on my ankle.
“Just help me and stop wasting time.” I blink back tears. How does one relax with a throbbing foot? I’m going to die. On asphalt. This is like the worst pain ever. His hands press on my ankle. Tingles run up my leg, like a tranquilizer. Minutes later, the pain vanishes. Zig helps me stand up, and I rest my foot gingerly on the ground.
“Want to try something … higher?” His tone is playful.
I’m about to say no, when I catch a flash of something in his eyes. His grin widens. He wants a challenge? “Take us to the highest point.”
“Thought you’d say that.” Zig smiles, takes my hand, and shifts.
WE ARRIVE ON TOP of the concrete roof of World’s Edge House, an impressively tall, all tinted-glass building close to Stephansdom Cathedral in the first district. Around us, creatures with massive angel-like wings of different colours land and depart at different intervals. They uncurl and stretch wide as they prepare for flight, and others curl gracefully after they land. Considering the breadth of their wings and their height, one would expect them to collide into each other.
Their arms and necks gleam to display scales, which are almost invisible in the waxing sunlight. One of them turns and winks at me. I drag my jaw from the floor. “Who are they?”
“Draangels,” he says. “Part dragons and part angels. There was once an angel named Athalia, and her beauty and intelligence rivalled even the best of the archangels. She was a sentinel and a healer. One night during her patrols in Serdica, now Sofia, she found that most of the city had been pillaged by rogue dragons, who left the villagers for dead. She spent the whole night and into the next day attempting to heal the survivors. But she lost most of the people anyway. Zindel, one of the local dragon shifter sentinels who was tracking the rogues, passed by the village. From what I hear, it was love at first glare. And thus, Draangels were born.” He grins.
“Very romantic,” I say, watching another black-winged Draangel take off into the sky. “Is there any particular reason they flock here? Or do they just enjoy jumping off tall buildings?”
He gives me a disappointed look. “And here I hoped you’d melt to the story. This here,” he says as he gestures to the roof with his hand, “is Draangel domain. A guy called Bastian owns this place. I’ll introduce you sometime. Come on. Ready to jump?”
I place my hand in his, but pull back and squint below us. “Hang on a bit. The ground below… looks like a mirage?”
I feel him shift next to me. “World’s Edge is built at the centre of where the Ley lines cross and web out in different directions in the country and the world. The energy from the lines is weak though, so Bastian uses Earth’s natural power to boost the Ley lines energy. Clever bastard, that Dragonblood.”
As I look around, my breath catches for the second time since we landed here. The city, illuminated by the setting sun, is a portrait in the making: red and brown tiled roofs against white houses, the green bowl-like roof of St. Charles Church, the elegant dip and rise of the hills at a distance, as if embracing the city.
I release my breath. “I could never get my fill o
f this view.”
“I know, right?”
I nod, slip my hand in his, and lean forwards to look at the ground below. My stomach turns at the thought of jumping off the rooftop, but my blood rushes through my veins eager to fly.
“Ready?” Before I can answer, Zig yells, “Jump!”
We launch ourselves off the ledge. There’s a moment of weightlessness, a few seconds to savour being airborne, of soaring without wings. Then we plunge nose first, the wind beating my face with vicious force. My eyes tear, but I don’t shut them. I want to see it all.
Below, the ground rises to meet us. Zig smiles, twisting our bodies until our feet face down. Slam! My legs buckle at the impact, and I stumble forwards. Zig pulls me back. I smile, then laugh. It’s the most exhilarating experience of my life.
I look up and around. We’re in an alley, the cobblestones shiny and irregular with age. The words “Euphoria’s Quake Club” flash in blue and green neon lights at the entrance of the World’s Edge building. There’s a queue snaking from the entrance and down the corner, vanishing out of sight. The ground beneath my feet trembles, but no music filters through the glass walls.
“Humans go in there?”
“Euphoria caters for both worlds.” He waves at some creature with a long tail, swiping the floor as it swaggers towards the entrance. After attending Grim’s dinners, it has become easier to see through the Charms the creatures cloak themselves with. This one is covered heavily to hide its hideous crocodile skin and snout. “Want to take a look?”
I glance at the clock on my mobile. Almost seven thirty p.m. I shake my head. “Another time. One more jump?” My blood’s roaring to feel the wind rush up my face.
We shift and jump again.
***
Yesterday while playing, jumping, shifting, and concealing with Zig, I broke my leg five times. It was the most fun I’ve ever had. I needed time to feel… free. To not think about Rolf, Reiner, or Anton. Or my family. Something for me.
Lea and I meet up to visit Anton in the hospital; then we go back to her house in the second district. As soon as we step through the door, the smell of different flavours of food slams into my senses.
“Dad’s cooking up a storm today. As if I’m going to die of hunger in Italy.” Lea rolls her eyes. I giggle at the same time, Lea’s father, Tomaso De Luca, rolls out of the kitchen in a flurry of apron and wild curly hair, barrelling towards Lea.
“Ah, la mia bella principessa.” He hugs Lea as if he hasn’t seen her in years. After kissing both her cheeks, he turns to face me, a huge smile on his face. “And you, Ana.” He takes my hand in his. “You are all right, no? Ah, but you look very happy. A Principessa, like my Lea.”
“Thank you!” I say, feeling drunk by the warm praise and the smell of food.
Lea’s dad is like the sun. He has a way of bursting into the room, illuminating everything with light and warmth.
“Enough with the praises, Papa,” Lea says, still smiling big. “I’ll go finish packing.”
After Lea’s father informs us he’ll let us know when lunch is ready, we scamper past the living room, scattered with coloured pillowcases and toys on lime green sofas, and towards Lea’s bedroom.
“Where’s Gia?” I ask, shutting the door behind me.
Lea flings herself on a heap of clothing on the bed. “At her friend’s house. Mom went to pick her up.”
We talk about Florence, her holiday job, and her grandparents while packing everything she needs. At one point, she stops and looks at me, her fingers fiddling with the lacy white blouse in her hands.
“I need a favour.”
“Anything.” Why does she look so serious?
“Keep an eye on Reiner for me.” She pauses, biting her lower lip, then says, “Something’s going on.”
“Why do you say that?”
“This is going to sound pathetic.” She buries her face in her hands, mumbling inaudibly. She looks up. “Lately, whenever he receives calls, he goes off whispering in corners. And when I ask him, he tells me it’s nothing.”
“Maybe it is nothing.” But I remember him speaking into his phone during brunch, as well as on several occasions, dashing out of class in a hurry to answer his mobile.
“What if he has another…?”
“He won’t,” I say quickly. “Rein adores you, Lea.”
She takes a breath. “Just…please keep an eye on him.”
“I promise.”
After lunch, I say goodbye to Herr De Luca. Saying goodbye to Lea is the hardest thing, even though she’ll be gone for just two months. I cry, which makes her cry. We promise to talk on the phone and email.
Once I round the corner heading for the bus stop, I do a quick scan, then shift and appear in Rolf’s neighbourhood. I walk up to his door and rap the round brass knocker twice. Rolf’s dad opens the door and frowns at me. I fight the urge to shift on my feet.
“Good evening, Herr Magister Mayer. Is Rolf home?” The lines on his face ease a bit. Using his degree title works like magic. He frowns again, as if trying to remember who I am, and crosses his arms so his shoulders fill the doorway. “Ana, good to see you.” I highly doubt that. “Rolf is indisposed.”
“Is he sick?”
“Yes—”
“Ana?” Rolf’s voice calls from inside the house.
His dad whirls around. “Go back upstairs.”
Rolf appears behind him. “I’d like to talk to Ana.”
“We spoke about this. Your future, remember?” Herr Mayer turns and glares at me. What have I done to deserve his wrath?
Rolf’s gaze slides from his dad to me. “I would like to speak to Ana.”
His dad narrows his eyes at Rolf. “One minute,” Herr Mayer says in a cold, final voice. “Then I want you back inside. I need you to start packing.” He throws me a furious look, before stalking inside.
Packing? I thought they weren’t leaving until next week.
Rolf walks out the door and pulls it closed behind him. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Hi.”
“You’re leaving?”
He brushes a hand down his face, resting it on the nape of his neck. “My dad… decided to travel earlier.”
I let the words sink in, reminding myself this is a great chance for Rolf and his dad to bond. “I was worried. You never returned my calls.”
He slumps back on the wall next to the door, head bowed. “It’s getting worse. The blackouts. What if it happens in Japan?”
“You could talk—”
The door swings open. Rolf’s dad looms in the doorway. Rolf tenses, his jaw clenched, but doesn’t turn around. His gaze clings on mine.
“Son, get in.”
Rolf doesn’t acknowledge his father. He steps forwards and hugs me, pressing his lips to my forehead and whispers, “I love you. Wait for me.”
“I love you, too.” I love you so much my heart is breaking from the sheer force of it.
Rolf walks me to the gate. He cups my face, sliding both thumbs to caress my jaw, my cheeks, my lips. He touches his forehead to mine. I breathe his air into my lungs, as he does mine. Before I can say anything, he steps back. One side of his mouth kicks up. I stiffen, swallowing the words on my tongue. He turns and walks back to the house.
That smile. So similar to the smile in the basement with that robot monstrosity. I want to yell to his father to run. Run and never look back.
“Rolf?” I call out. He turns, eyes dark, smiling. “Are you…okay?”
He tilts his head. “I’ll be fine.” All warmth is gone from his voice.
The door snicks shut, swallowing Rolf and his father. I slink closer and place my ear to the door. Footsteps shuffle on the floor. Low voices arguing, then Rolf’s father barks a sharp command. Then silence.
Maybe I imagined the look.
ZIG WAS RIGHT ABOUT ONE THING: Grim is about to push me off the nest’s edge. Last night he told me he’ll assign me a client for collection. I hope my wings will be strong enough to fly
solo.
My parents and I cancel brunch and visit Anton in the hospital. He’s due for release tomorrow. I glance at Mom, her arm hooked with Dad’s. When we arrive home from the hospital, I power on my computer and scroll down my messages. I emailed Rolf yesterday, he hasn’t replied yet. I scroll down to read Lea’s email. She arrived safely and is looking forward to beginning her summer job at the museum on Monday. She reminds me to keep an eye on Reiner for her. I plan to call him tomorrow. Maybe go out. He might let me in on what’s happening.
I spend most of the afternoon with Lucy at the playground, skating a thin line between anxiety about the lone collection Grim intends to send me on and relief that it’s almost evening and he hasn’t contacted me. After coming back home, I immerse myself in tidying everywhere and everything to occupy my mind. Mom seems pleased about my sudden urge to clean.
As I finish wiping the kitchen sink clean, something ‘dings’ and I rush to check the microwave. Nothing. Words flash like neon in my mind, and I yelp at the sudden intrusion. Mom looks up from her interior design magazines. I murmur “cramps” and dash to the bathroom and turn the lock.
Is this how Grim alerts about collection instructions? Why didn’t I think to ask? Why didn’t anyone warn me?
I steady my breaths, thinking of how I’m going to scold Zig for not telling me how this works, and read the instructions.
Assignment: Soul collection
19th District, Georges Hospital, Room 302
Age: Ninety-three years
Soul Colour: Red
No name, just the soul colour. This one seems to have lived a vibrant life.
I grab my soul collection trench coat, shove it inside my rucksack, and dash downstairs, heart pounding in my chest. Mom looks up, and so does Dad, working on one of his carvings at the kitchen table.
Keep cool, Ana. I clear my throat and try to keep from fidgeting. “I’m just going out for a little while. I’ll be back before dinner.”
“Are you are meeting Rolf?”
I shake my head. “He travelled to Japan with his father. I’m going for a stroll along the Danube. Then catch up on my reading.” I tap the rucksack. My chest twists painfully.
Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1) Page 21
