by Bryan Davis
After blowing out two of the three candles, I slid underneath the bedcovers and patted the space next to me. “You can lie here with me if you want.”
Without a word, she climbed onto the bed and settled at my side. Since her body didn’t sink into the mattress, she again proved her high-level ghost status. She could control whether or not she passed through certain solid objects.
I closed my eyes. “Comfortable?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good, but you’ll need to stay quiet so I can sleep. There aren’t many hours left in the night.”
“Okay.” After a few seconds of silence, she whispered, “Phoenix, can I ask one question?”
“Just one?”
“Uh-huh. Why couldn’t Singapore see me?”
I opened my eyes. Tori stared at me almost nose to nose. The remaining candle’s light flickered across her nebulous face. “Couldn’t see you? What do you mean?”
“She came to the parked car, just like you said, but when I talked to her, she couldn’t see me until I turned visible.”
“Did she actually say she couldn’t see you?”
“No.” Tori rose to her knees and wagged her head. “But she was shaking her head like this, like she was looking for me, and when I turned visible, she looked right at me. I thought it might be because she wasn’t wearing her cloak.”
“No, I’ve seen plenty of ghosts while not wearing my cloak.”
“She was fine later, ’cause I turned invisible again to get past the guard. After he let her in and closed the door, she talked to me all the way here, even though I stayed invisible.”
“Well, I’ve noticed that you’re not always aware of where you are. Maybe you were standing inside the car, and it was blocking her view of you.”
“Maybe. I can’t remember.”
I closed my eyes again. “We’ll ask her tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll be able to see you after she gets some rest.”
“Okay. Good night, Phoenix.”
“Good night.”
“And Phoenix?”
I opened my eyes. “Yes?”
She snuggled close and brushed her pale lips against my cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
As goose bumps crawled along my back, I resisted the urge to shudder. A tear crept to my eye. “You’re welcome, Tori. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you safely to your parents.”
The candle extinguished on its own. I fell asleep quickly. A dream formed, a familiar one, a dream I welcomed. Some recurring dreams reflected death, the pain-filled screams of extracted souls, and I would wake up troubled and morose. This dream made up for all of those moments.
Misty stood in front of me in our backyard next to a makeshift picnic table, her eyes sparkling with tears. Wearing a calf-length skirt, a frilly short-sleeved top, and a newsboy cap that allowed her silky red hair to spill over her shoulders, she looked beautiful, as always.
My initiation ceremony’s potluck table had been cleared, and my parents and our guests had gone inside. I stayed in the yard, hoping to delay wading into the nearly shoulder-to-shoulder conditions in our modest home and the many voices that would pepper me with questions. As usual, Misty stayed with me.
She took my hand in hers. “I have something for you,” she said with her Scottish lilt, “A gift for your life as a Reaper.”
“Thanks.” I leaned to the side and looked around her. “Where is it?”
“Here.” She glanced toward the house, then slid a gray ring over my left ring finger. “It’s pewter. I couldn’t afford silver.”
I stared at the ring. Although a few slight bumps marred the surface, it was smooth and lustrous. “Did you make this?”
She nodded. “It took me a month, but I made two of them.” She slid a similar ring over her own finger. “They’ll help us remember our promise.”
I, too, gave the house a furtive glance. If anyone in my family found out about our covenant, I would get the same lecture I had heard a hundred times before. Supposedly we were young, inexperienced, infatuated. But they couldn’t understand how the rigors and sacrifices inherent in Reaper training could mold a boy into a man. They couldn’t fathom how raising a younger sister practically by herself could fashion a mature woman out of a little girl. Yet, they didn’t have to understand. It would be twenty years before we could complete our covenant. By then, no one would mind.
“Misty, it’s amazing. I love it.” I held her hand. “But it’s not going to be hard to keep the promise. I’ll be alone, and I’ll be thinking about you every day.”
“You think so now.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “We both need the rings. Twenty years is a long time.”
“Twenty years,” I repeated, almost in a whisper. “It’s hard to imagine.”
“I know. I lost my parents, and I lost my brother. I don’t want to lose you.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed the top of my freshly shaved head. “I’ll wait as long as it takes, and my ring will never leave my finger.”
The back door creaked open. I stepped away from Misty. My father, dressed in a navy blue suit, descended the trio of steps, his graying hair askew in the breeze. His trim body belied his years, but his weathered face gave evidence of all five decades.
As he lit a cigarette in a casual manner, I recognized his pretentiously noncommittal expression. He had seen Misty kiss me but didn’t want to let on.
“Better get inside,” I whispered.
Misty nodded and hurried past my father without giving him a glance. When the door closed, he sauntered closer to me, took a deep draw on his cigarette, and blew the smoke into the breeze. “I see that you decided to dismiss what I told you.”
I leaned away from the smoke, forcing myself not to cough. “It was a good-bye kiss. And it was on my head. No big deal.”
“I’m not stupid, son.” He flicked the cigarette. Ashes fell close to my shoes. “Look, I like Misty. She’s a good girl—sweet, hard-working, pretty as a daisy. But you’re both only thirteen, for crying out loud. You’re too young to make promises to each other.”
“Promises? What promises?”
“Like I said. I’m not stupid.” His jaw tightened, but his voice stayed under control. “I specifically forbade you from pursuing a relationship with her.”
I pressed my lips together. It wouldn’t do any good to talk to him until he finished having his say.
“But now you belong to the Council, so I suppose you’ll answer to them for your decisions.” His face relaxing, he nodded at my finger. “Looks like pewter. Am I right?”
“It’s pewter.” I rolled my hand into a fist and rubbed the ring. “So she gave me something to remember her by. What’s wrong with that?”
“For you? Nothing. In fact, it’ll help keep you out of trouble.” He took another draw on the cigarette and continued, smoke puffing with his words. “Since it’s becoming clear that you inherited your grandfather’s curse, the ring’s probably a good idea.”
I blinked at the smoke. “Wait a minute. What curse? What kind of trouble?”
“Something Bartholomew explained to me.” He set a hand on my shoulder, a gesture that meant he was about to say something I probably didn’t want to hear. “Grandpa Maxwell was a lot like you—independent, confident, principled in his own way. But he had a weak spot. His Reaper genetics were part of it.”
He took another drag on his cigarette. “If a woman could break through his defenses, he became like a devoted slave to her, even if he knew she was evil.” He touched his chest. “The valve attachment to his heart added to the problem. I think it makes some Reapers more vulnerable to emotional upheavals. Kind of messes with their minds.”
I glanced down at my valve, exposed by my V-neck shirt. The skin around the metal still looked raw, though the bleeding had stopped days ago. “So you think Misty’s got that kind of hold on me?”
“It’s obvious to everyone but you. You’re only thirteen, but you made a promise to be true to her for the next twenty years. Who in his r
ight mind would do that? Still, like I said, it’ll probably help you. You’re not allowed to be with girls anyway, and because of your commitment to Misty, you won’t let another female get her hooks into you.”
He averted his eyes. “In the meantime, Misty can break the promise and gallivant with a dozen guys, and you’ll never know it. All the while, you’ll be mooning for her until your Reaper years are over.” He dropped the cigarette and let the butt smolder on the walk. “Then you’ll come home and find her married. You’ll be crushed, of course, but at least you’ll have been protected. Bartholomew says only obvious betrayal or death of the female can break the hold. At least that’s the way it was for Maxwell.”
Heat rushed into my cheeks. “No,” I said, backing away. “You don’t know Misty. She won’t betray me. I know she won’t.”
“Of course you think that way.” He nodded at my hand again. “Since she has you wrapped around her finger more tightly than that ring, you can’t think otherwise.”
I fumed within. My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, and he didn’t know Misty like I did. I just tightened my fists and stayed quiet.
“In any case,” he continued, “I asked Bartholomew to keep an eye on you. He thinks you have a special talent that will make you a target, so he’ll give you advice when you need it.”
“What talent? A target for who?”
My father shrugged. “He wouldn’t tell me. But I can tell you this. Grandpa Maxwell had an obsession with finding the actual Gateway and learning what it was all about. One day he set off on a journey to locate it, and he never returned.”
“Mom told me he died of a heart attack.”
“Quite true. That’s what the telegram said.” He withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, pulled one out part way, then, after pausing for a moment, let it slide back in. “Whatever you do, son, don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger. Do your job and lay low. Don’t try anything foolish like Maxwell did. The Gatekeeper is immortal for a reason. Better to live as long as you can and come home in one piece. If Misty really does wait that long, you’ll be glad you did.”
The scene faded, though my father’s voice echoed in my awakening mind. Until tonight, the dream had always ended with Misty’s kiss. My father’s entry signaled something new. When the episode happened in reality, his advice didn’t make much sense. Now it made all the sense in the world. I was Alex’s target. But for what reason? What was my talent? It had to be more than simply collecting souls. Any Reaper could do that.
I opened my eyes to darkness. Tori’s glow was nowhere in sight. Maybe boredom had prompted her to explore the compound.
Her absence and the dream’s memories drilled a hole in my heart. Loneliness flowed in, making the room seem darker. Maybe my father was right after all. Misty and I were only thirteen, old enough to think we knew what love was all about and too young to realize that the coming years would strip the blinders of naiveté from our eyes. Our promise made us feel good then, but living in the Jungle and witnessing tragedy after tragedy quickly taught me that even the most heartfelt promises are as fragile as a candle’s flame.
I let out a quiet sigh. The winds of change blow through every life, sometimes with a ferocity no one can predict. I could keep my promise to wait for Misty. My life as a Reaper demanded solitude. But Misty had likely met plenty of attractive young men who would love to ease her loneliness. Maybe her pewter ring soon felt like a lead weight, and the words of promise took on the tone of childish hope. When she realized the limitations of our youthful vision, maybe the loss of blinders led her to remove the pewter shackle and deposit it in a jewelry box, a place for shiny baubles and pretty keepsakes… and a coffin for our dreams.
I curled my fingers, feeling the tightness of the ring. A new weight of reality burdened my heart. I had learned so much in three short years… too much, really. Visions of death and grief do that to every Reaper. We grow into adults before our time, and solitude provides too many hours to reflect and ponder. In only a few years, Reapers become poets, mentally writing bitter verses that reflect bitter hearts.
I brought the ring to my cheek and rubbed the cool metal against my skin. No matter what Misty did, I would keep my promise. I couldn’t let those bitter winds infect my heart. Although Sing and Shanghai were both beautiful young women inside and out, giving in to their charms would break my only attachment to the days when love still thrived through any storm—days of innocent ignorance, to be sure, but days when I looked forward to each coming dawn. If I broke that connection, all hope that those days might return would be shattered forever.
I shifted the ring to my lips and kissed it. Yes, Misty, I will keep my promise. I have to keep it. I can’t survive without a lifeline to your love.
Chapter Sixteen
A melodic hum wafted through my mind, gently awakening me. I opened my eyes. The floor lamp filled the room with light. A Reaper’s tunic and trousers lay folded neatly on the bed near my feet, and a cloak draped the sofa, its fibers straight and shiny. A computer tablet sat on the dresser, and my suitcase was nowhere in sight.
The hum emanated from the bathroom, a feminine lilt, a wordless song of peace and contentment. Sing was giving voice to her nickname. Even after getting ambushed by thugs and losing her cloak, she still maintained a buoyant attitude.
A knock sounded. The humming stopped. Someone called from the hallway, “It’s time to get up! I’m unlocking the door. Get something to prop it open.”
Theresa’s voice. I jumped out of bed and grabbed one of the candles. “I’m ready.”
The lock clicked, and the door opened a crack. I laid the candle on the floor and slid it into the gap. “Got it.”
Theresa’s eyes appeared at the slit. “Breakfast in thirty minutes. Alex says to be on time. She wants to have a word with you.”
“Yeah. More than one word, I’m sure.” I gave her a smile. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
“It’s still night shift. I get off soon.” As she walked away, she called, “Thanks for asking.”
When her footsteps faded, I turned to get my clothes. Sing and Tori stood next to the open bathroom door. “Good morning, Phoenix,” Sing said, now dressed in fresh traveling attire. Although her cut had closed, the bruise still looked pretty bad.
“Shhh.” I took her by the arm and guided her away from the hall door. “Let’s talk over here.”
When I sat on the bed, Sing sat next to me and laid my clothes on my lap. “I found them in your drawer.”
“Thanks.” I checked the pockets. Sing had transferred the watch and the microphones from the dirty set of clothes. “How much sleep did you get?”
“A couple of hours. I’ll snooze again when you leave.”
“You can ask Tori to stand guard in the hallway.”
Sing nodded. “I already discussed that with her. If someone comes, she’ll warn me in time to hide under the bed.”
Shanghai walked in from the bathroom, also wearing a clean set of Reaper clothes. Her cloak looked freshly brushed. Apparently Sing had spread her favors around. “Get dressed, amigo,” Shanghai said in a chipper tone. “Let’s hunt down some breakfast. I’m starved.”
I grabbed my clothes. “I need to take a shower. Theresa said Alex is waiting for me. Maybe you can try to cool her down before I get there.”
“Will do.”
When Shanghai left, I opened the bathroom door, my clothes still in my arms. Sing grabbed my wrist. “Can I talk to you a second?” She glanced at Tori. “Alone?”
“Sure.” I bent toward Tori. “Would you please guard the hallway for a little while? You can come back when you see me leave.”
“Okay.” She ran through the door.
I focused on Sing. “What’s up?”
She showed me a folded piece of paper. “Someone slid a note under your door. My code name was on the outside, so I read it.”
“Your code name? But no one knows you’re here.”
“My people do.” She unfolde
d the paper. “Take a look.”
I studied the hastily scrawled script, whispering as I read. “Raven, we have a tweeter in the cage. Watch for signs. The Eagle is coming.”
Sing refolded the note. “It means we have someone working inside the camp.”
“I figured that out. Kind of risky to make it so obvious.”
“The tweeter probably didn’t have time to encode it,” Sing said. “I don’t know who it is.”
“I’m guessing Theresa, but who’s the Eagle?”
“The head of our organization.”
“Organization? You mean the people you’ve been talking about?”
“Right.” Sing looked at the floor and ran her shoe along the carpet. “I think it’s time to tell you some secrets I’ve been holding back from you.”
“Okay. That’s worth keeping Alex waiting. Let’s hear them.”
“It won’t take long.” After heaving a sigh, she whispered, “Like I told you before, I’m not a Gateway denier, at least not like some who are on the kook fringe. My people believe…” She glanced away for a moment before looking at me again. “We believe that something isn’t right about the Gateway story. My mother was one of the first to start the investigation. You see, when she retired after twenty years as a Reaper, the Gatekeeper recruited her to become a member of his inner circle, a ring of six former Reapers who now serve him as disciples.”
“You mean the Council.”
She nodded. “Since Council members stop aging when they join, it’s considered the most glorious appointment possible. It’s literally like heaven on earth. So when my mother declined the invitation, trouble started. Assassins showed up everywhere. She fled to Ghana and lived there. That’s where she met my father. They married, and I was born soon after. While in Ghana, my parents began an organization that hoped to unravel the mystery of the Gatekeeper, the Council, and the Gateway. There are too many reasons to go into right now, but here’s the bottom line.” She paused, biting her lip. “First, do you know the story about how I became a Reaper?”
“They found your birthmark late, when you were around fourteen or fifteen, during a cancer screening or something like that.”