“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” I said, nodding at Grace Adaline’s closed office door. “I have some questions that need answered before I can get to the guns-a-blazing part of the plan.”
“Very good.” Jack glanced around nervously and stepped in closer, tucking his stack of books under his chin. “Poor Meng is just beside herself. I’ve never seen her so devastated. It breaks my heart. Please, if there’s anything I can do to help, just name it.” He removed a hand from his books again long enough to squeeze my shoulder.
“Thank you.”
I watched him toddle off down the hall toward his classroom and then knocked on Grace’s door.
“It’s open,” her muffled voice called from inside.
I cracked the door and poked my head in. For as meticulous as Grace could be, it was alarming to see her office in such disarray. To be fair, finals were drawing near, and the war had created complications for the academy as well. Several of the reapers who had previously taught classes were now too swamped with overtime harvesting, thanks to the handful of reapers that had gone off the grid to join the rebels.
The war had also pushed more stagnant reapers to enroll in extra classes, with hopes of learning something new that might help them defend their harvests in the event they became a target for the rebels. As the dean of the academy, it was up to Grace to figure out how to balance the scales. A tidy office was probably the least of her worries at this point.
“Ms. Harvey,” Grace said, surprise hitching her voice as she looked up from her desk. She rolled her shoulders and straightened the green cardigan hanging on her thin frame. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, pointing at an empty guest chair. Its mate was cluttered with a stack of folders weighted down by a rusty hole punch.
I squeezed past a file cabinet and sat down, clasping my hands together. “I need your help,” I said, getting right to it. Grace was old enough to be annoyed by small talk, and I was smart enough not to insult her by feigning interest in the weather or her personal life.
“I’m listening.” She folded her arms over her desk and locked her owlish eyes on mine.
“I was wondering if I could get a printout of all previous students of Paul Brom’s soul hypnosis class. I’d like to compare their names to the list of rogue reapers and see if anyone matches up.”
Grace tilted her head to one side and then twisted her chair around to face another file cabinet in the corner behind her desk. “Sure, I can do that. But I don’t know how much help it will be. It’s one of the academy’s most popular classes.”
“I’ve gotta start somewhere.”
Grace opened a drawer and zipped her fingers across the tops of the compressed files inside, pausing when she found the one she was hunting for. It was a thick file, and my head swam at the notion of having to go through the entire thing. Thankfully, she pulled several pages and ran them through a desktop scanner, promptly handing me the copies it spit out.
“That’s it?” I asked, my eyes skimming the list.
Grace’s clipped laughter startled me. “That’s nearly half the entire reaper population.”
“I never took the class.” I flipped to the second page of the list, pausing to look up when Grace laughed again.
“You didn’t take a lot of classes.” She pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose. “Of course, Saul’s lot always did seem to prefer experience over education.”
My chest tightened at the mention of my late mentor. “Thank you for your help. I appreciate it.” I stood to leave, and Grace followed me out of her office.
“I know about the pickle you’re in with the council,” she said, shooting a quick glance down the hall. “Saul was a good man, and I know he was a good mentor. Trust that what he taught you will see you through this.” She pressed her lips together in a tight smile.
I nodded and rolled up the pages she’d printed out between my palms. “Thanks again.”
I left the academy in a hurry, already knowing where my next stop would be, but first I called Kevin’s cell phone. It immediately went to voicemail. That was odd. I called Bub next.
“Our bags are packed. Is it time to skip town?” he asked, the tone of his voice only half joking.
“Not just yet. The council is giving me a chance to prove myself first. Are you at the condo?”
“Indeed I am. I just returned from the market with all the fixings for a romantic dinner—”
“Is Kevin there?” I asked, cramming the papers Grace had given me down in my messenger bag.
“I don’t believe so, love. I thought he’d be out with you, helping with the detective work. Maybe he’s running an errand?” Bub suggested.
“Yeah, maybe. I’ll try him again later.”
“Kiss, kiss,” Bub said before hanging up.
I thought to ask him if the hounds were home a moment too late. Maybe Kevin had taken them for a walk. Either way, the crusade had to go on. I tucked my phone back in my pocket and headed for the boat impound.
There were two names in particular that caught my attention on the list Grace had given me: Karen Durst and Tasha Henry. I didn’t know much about Karen, just that she’d been on the Lost Souls Unit with Craig Hogan and Miranda Giles, two reapers who had been ripped out of existence—Craig at my hands and Miranda at Grim’s.
The ability to unexist someone was another one I had shared with my former boss, and one I was guessing I’d kissed goodbye along with my soul vision during Naledi’s extraction. Even more so than the soul vision, it wasn’t a talent I advertised, though the fact that no one seemed to remember the person on the receiving end of said talent made bragging a little pointless.
The second name on Grace’s list, Tasha Henry, was one that made my blood boil. The last time I’d seen her had been in Alaska, just before Christmas. She was there to sabotage a high profile harvest I’d been assigned to, and she’d almost succeeded. Unfortunately, the harvest was still a total bust. Tasha hadn’t been the only one there to steal Christmas.
The rogue reaper had snatched a coin right out of my hand and disappeared, leaving Gabriel and me stranded. We had to search through miles of snow and ice for a coin I’d lost during the chaos. I was almost hoping she was involved with the soul trafficking ring, just so I could pay her back.
Before joining the rebels, Tasha had shared a boat with Karen Durst. Jenni and I had already searched it once, at the end of last summer when Grim’s brother Hypnos had gone missing. We had been hoping to find a lead on the slumbering god’s whereabouts, but didn’t turn up anything useful. Still, I thought it was worth taking another look.
The boat impound was along the north shore of Limbo City, just to the west of the Three Fates Factory. It was a short walk from the academy, so I bypassed the travel booths, choosing instead to head up Tombstone Drive by foot. The exercise made me feel more productive.
I caught a glimpse of the Sea of Eternity, poking through the patch of evergreens that stretched behind the academy. The coast was more severe on the west side of the island. Steep cliffs lined the perimeter of the woods, dropping off into the rocky depths of the sea. It was as if a small slice of forest had been slapped on the map to keep Limbo City from looking too industrial.
On the opposite side of the road, across from the sliver of wilderness, buildings rose up to meet the sky. Reapers Tower stood above the others, marking the northwest corner of the city proper. Ivy grew up the blond brick exterior, tapering off near the rounded corner columns with their medieval, tower-like quality that the building had been named for.
The apartments were a step down from Holly House, but a step up from the Coexist Complex, where I’d lived before upgrading. I knew a few of the reapers who lived there, including Ellen Aries and Mira Hart, a medium-risk harvester of my own generation. If Kevin didn’t come with me to Tartarus, Reapers Tower would be a good fit. Jenni could afford the condo at Holly House on her own now—not that she would have any need to, seeing as how little she bothered to come home anymo
re.
Just past Reapers Tower, the street bent at a sharp right angle, turning into Remembrance Lane. I followed it for another block until I reached Ghost Alley and then headed north again.
The trees crept back into view as the buildings grew smaller and spread further apart. The businesses on this stretch, payday loan offices and used appliance stores mostly, had seen better days. Many of their windows were dark, closed signs dangling from the front doors. I wondered if they would even bother to open at all today.
The souls accounted for a good chunk of the traffic through this area, being so close to the factory. That was the only reason a business would choose to set up shop in the otherwise crappy location, with its uneven sidewalks and cracked road that eventually dissolved into weed-choked gravel. This part of the city wasn’t a highlight on the tourist map.
The smell of burnt oil hit my nostrils as the ground tilted downward and the boat impound came into view. It filled the space between the northern coast and where the gravel finally lost its battle with the weeds. A dilapidated construction trailer that served as the main office squatted behind a twelve-foot tall fence. The crooked chain-link formed a wide half circle around the property, enclosing the trailer, a shack of a workshop, and a dry storage building half-full of random boats.
The fence didn’t stop at the coast. It stretched out over the water on both sides, disappearing beneath the sea about ten yards out. One side connected to a rickety dock, and the other left enough space to form a narrow channel for boats to pass through to be hauled up a concrete ramp for storage. A rusty gate adorned with several locks closed off the gap, ensuring no one could make off with a boat they hadn’t made bail on yet.
I readjusted the strap of my bag over my shoulder and slowed my pace on the way down the slope, stepping around overgrown clumps of weeds and avoiding the mud puddles the rain had left behind. The evergreens that began behind the academy mingled with deciduous trees near the impound, including several massive varieties. Their canopies blotted out the sky, shadowing my path.
A distant giggle echoed through the trees, and I paused to look around. A few of the fey residents in Limbo City occupied the coastal woods, and their taste for trickery kept most other citizens away. I continued down the hill, quickening my stride as I neared the impound entrance.
The chain-link gate was unlocked, but I had to lift the latch with both hands and maneuver it open an inch at a time. The rusty hinges felt like someone had tried to weld them in place, and their noisy protest alerted Nik, the water spirit who managed the place.
The door of the trailer swung open, slapping against the outer wall, and Nik waddled down a stack of cinderblocks that served as stairs. A wooden pipe poked through his mangled, black beard, and green algae dotted his cheeks and arms. He dug his webbed fingers down in the bib pocket of his overalls and pulled out a wad of tobacco, stuffing it in the end of his pipe before retrieving a book of matches from another pocket.
“You got ma chicken?” he mumbled around the pipe before lighting it.
“What?” I gasped and gave the gate a final shove, opening it just enough to slip through.
“Ma chicken,” Nik repeated, giving me a once-over and then glancing behind me with a frown.
I wiped my hands down the front of my jeans, smearing them with orange rust from the gate. “Why would I have your chicken?”
He sucked on his pipe and blew a stream of skunky smoke in my direction. It caught in my throat as I panted to catch my breath, and I gagged as I stepped back and waved my hand in the air.
“I’m here to look at a boat that was seized last fall,” I said, giving him a sour look. “A yacht that belonged to a pair of reapers, Durst and Henry.”
“I know it.” He puffed on his pipe again and folded his arms over his belly. “Gonna take six hundred to release her, and fifty more to get her license up to date.”
I shook my head. “I’m not here to claim the boat. I just need to search it for evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” he asked, his bushy brows arching.
“That’s council business.” I gave him a tight smile. “How about you just point me in the right direction?”
“She’s in the water,” he said, turning away from me to lift the gate one-handed. He pulled it all the way open, the hinges moving effortlessly and without a single squeak. My eyes bulged.
“What the—”
“Gonna have to wait a bit though. Lunch’ll be here any second.” He glanced up at the road that ended at the top of the hill.
My stomach growled, and I remembered that I had skipped breakfast. I’d grab a quick bite as soon as I had a look at Tasha’s yacht.
“I don’t need an escort. Just tell me which slip it’s in,” I said, taking a few steps toward the dock.
“You don’t wanna be doing that until ma chicken gets here. You need a biscuit.”
I crinkled my nose at him. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
“You a snake charmer?” He looked over his shoulder at me.
“What?” I put my hands on my hips and sighed.
Nik snorted. “I didn’t think so.” He looked back up at the road and grinned. “Here we are.”
A demon on a bicycle wobbled down the rocky hillside. A paper sack dotted with grease sat in the wire basket attached to the handlebars, and the demon’s eyes widened as he rolled over a big rock and the sack bounced violently. He stopped and repositioned it in the basket before rubbing a handkerchief between the horns that ran in a row down the center of his head.
“Tick tock, boy!” Nik shouted at him from the gate.
The demon put his feet back on the pedals and struggled down the rest of the path, his lips pressed together in a determined line.
When he reached us, Nik spit out his pipe and tucked it away in his pocket. Then he tore the bag out of the demon’s basket. He removed an entire rotisserie chicken, clutching it in one hand. His lips stretched wide, splitting his face in half like a toad’s. I watched in horror as he stuffed the entire chicken in his mouth, crunching once, twice, and then swallowing the thing whole.
My stomach churned again, less eagerly this time, as if reversing its previous request.
Nik tossed the demon a coin and waved him off, closing up the trick gate behind him. He turned to me as he reached down in the deflated delivery sack, scraping his fingers along the bottom. “There it is.” He pulled out a crumbly biscuit.
“Really, I’m fine,” I said, placing a hand over my mouth and turning away before I gagged.
“It’s not for you.” Nik walked past me toward the dock. I followed him, eyeballing the boats as we neared. The sooner I looked at Tasha’s yacht, the sooner I could get out of there and forget the grotesque meal I’d just witnessed.
We passed the workshop, where a trailer was jacked up and waiting for new wheels. The dry storage building was on the other side of the lot. Boats of every size, style, and era were tucked away. I spotted a steamboat and an old Viking ship. Some had probably been there for centuries.
In addition to holding boats for missed payments or late dock slip fees, Nik was also known to take trade-ins and sell them on the side. Not that he had the first clue about the boat market. I mean, who had the disposable income to hire a team of oarsmen to run a Viking ship these days?
The impound dock was tethered to the shore by a wooden ramp. It stretched high over a section of water before arching steeply downward and latching onto the dock. The cables running under and around it suggested the thing broke apart in the middle so larger boats could pass through to the slips gated off on the other side. Before we’d made it halfway across, the sea grumbled below. The ramp swayed and I grasped the railing just in time. A funnel of icy water gushed up around us, spraying between the weathered boards and assaulting us from all sides.
Nik placed one of his fishy hands over the pocket of his overalls to protect his tobacco. His other hand held tight to the biscuit, even when a giant-ass snake reared its ugly head and hissed i
n his face, fangs as long as my arms ready to strike. I suddenly wasn’t sure if the water soaking my pants was just water.
Chapter 11
“The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” —Marcel Proust
Water dripped from the snake’s fangs. It leaned in so close to Nik that I could see his bored expression reflected in the creature’s eyes.
“Oh, shush,” Nik said, tossing the biscuit in the sea with as much care as I would have tossed a toy to one of the hounds.
The snake fell on the biscuit, sending up another tidal wave that thrashed the worn ramp and shook us about. Then the slithering monster sank back beneath the sea just as suddenly as it had risen. The water smoothed over as clear as glass, and if not for our drenched state, I would have been tempted to question whether it had happened at all.
I blinked stiffly and let go of the railing to finger back the wet curls sticking to my face. Then I gave my bag a shake, hoping the faux leather was water-resistant enough to keep my stuff from being ruined. My hands trembled, and my whole body began to shiver as the breeze whipped across the sea and coiled around the dock.
Nik squeezed the water from his tangled beard and laughed at me as he retrieved his pipe and filled it with tobacco again. “Don’t worry. She ain’t gonna ask for another one on the way out.”
My breath felt cramped in my lungs, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to test his theory. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do anything besides go home and take a long, hot shower. This day just kept getting better.
“This way,” Nik shouted, disappearing around the bow of a speedboat that jutted out over a good chunk of the dock walkway. I ran after him, not wanting to wait around and see if the snake would come back for seconds. How much could a biscuit really satiate a creature of that size?
Tasha and Karen’s yacht was near the end of the dock, and it looked like it hadn’t been touched since Jenni and I last examined it. The door on the main deck had been reduced to a pile of splintered driftwood, thanks to Jenni’s impatience and bad mood at the time. No one had bothered to board it up. The inside stairs that led up to the control room had been sealed off, so Jenni had kicked in the door on the second tier deck too. That opening was crisscrossed with yellow caution tape.
Ghost Market (Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. Book 6) Page 8