The Reaper's Embrace

by Abigail Baker

  “I can’t do this without you.” I yearned to hug him. It broke the shattered pieces of my heart even more. I would never be able to put it back together again, would I?

  I would have fallen to my knees in complete anguish if Brent hadn’t held me upright, his strong arms wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. Reuniting Mama and Papa was supposed to happen years from now when Papa was old and gray. I was supposed to be middle-aged and well into my Masterhood, training younger Scriveners. Styx would be back to better times with a Head Reaper everyone loved. Papa was supposed to see all of that for him and for Mama. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. It wasn’t how I wanted his story to end.

  Get me to your Mama. I want to be with her now, his strained eyes said.

  I heard him loud and clear. His words rooted all the way through my body. Every cell took on the promise to honor his final wish. I would find Mama here in Lethe. I would reunite them no matter the cost.

  This promise I would see through. Papa would not remain in no-man’s land.

  Brent’s arms no longer needed to hold me upright. I stood on my own with my shoulders squared. My tears stopped. And my heart, which felt like it had shattered into a million pieces, still beat strong against my ribs.

  I would do this for Papa and Mama. I would destroy myself before I let them both down.

  Brent eased away, surely feeling my power restored. He stood to my side. He waited on my response like everyone else inside this hallway of misery.

  “Ferry him into my necklace,” I said to Brent, my eyes set on my foster father’s soul. Papa would join Eve and Wallie. There was still enough room for them all.

  “Doesn’t he have a Reaper?” Neema asked.

  “Trivials don’t wait for Reapers. These souls get forgotten, lost,” Brent said.

  “That’s why we need you to ferry him into the necklace,” I added.

  Brent did as I instructed. And within seconds Papa’s tall, transparent soul joined the others in the lotus pendant given to me by Mama many years ago. How strange that he’d find himself there in the very gift from his beloved wife.

  I knelt by Papa’s lifeless body, careful not to move him even the slightest. I lightly put my lips to his cheek one last time. This was a good-bye I never imagined I’d face. Perhaps I thought Papa would always be there, that after losing Mama, fate wouldn’t take him, too. Perhaps I believed my power to be greater than it really was. I could save everyone, I’d wrongly thought. It was in this moment I finally realized, after losing so many people whom I loved, that I would never be enough to protect them from the inevitable.

  “I love you,” I whispered to Papa. “But it’s time you and Mama reunite.”

  I rose to stand tall again, brushing the remaining tears from my cheeks, to face the Stygians who witnessed my unraveling nightmare. Some looked me in the eyes. Some wiped their own tears away. Some averted their gaze as a show of respect.

  “Let’s go,” I hissed and then marched forward, cutting through everyone on my way to the Heart of Lethe, where I would end this even if I died doing it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Monsters move in the shadows.

  They cannot exist in the light.

  Do not give them darkness, babygirl.”

  —Lorelei Balanchine

  I marched with everyone trailing behind. There was complete silence. There was nothing more to say from my end. No one seemed to know what to say to me to offer comfort. I shoved the pain of Papa’s loss into a fold of my heart. It wouldn’t stay there for very long, I knew. But there was a job to be done. I couldn’t let the pain overcome me. Not yet.

  Brent was the only one who marched at my side. Even Neema, who had insisted upon leading the charge, fell back. She did it out of solidarity. She did it because now we both had lost someone in the span of a week. Our missions were the same, now more than ever.

  The hallways of Lethe twisted and turned, leading us closer and closer to our goal. The Trivials didn’t continue to torment us. I guess they thought they had done enough. Or maybe they waited in droves to ambush us once we hit the Heart.

  I didn’t care. I would see to it that Papa would be with Mama. That was all I could think about. So when we rounded a bend that opened up into a foyer that looked exactly like Le Château’s famous brass and paisley decorated foyer, I set my jaw with determination.

  The room was massive, big enough to hold hundreds of people. A Persian rug spread across the white marble floor. Sconces and paintings hung on the walls, and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling.

  Standing in front of a set of double-doors with hundreds of skulls carved into the wood were the Trivials.

  Brent and I stopped. Our entourage halted behind us.

  “Huh,” Brent grunted, slightly amused.

  “I thought there’d be more,” Neema said behind me.

  “Welcome,” said a Trivial who stood front and center of her army.

  There were about fifty of them from what I could see. If there were more behind the doors, then we might have had a problem. Fifty would be a battle but nothing we couldn’t handle. However, I wasn’t about to rush headlong into a fight without first playing the proper diplomat. As my allies congregated beside and behind me, I gave Brent a look that told him to watch my back. He told me he understood with a flash of red eyes.

  I started toward the middle of the massive foyer. The Trivial who spoke did the same, knowing the rules of war well. We met underneath the glass chandelier that rocked gently from side to side.

  This female had a luminous white glow beneath the pale light. Her black eyes stood in contrast to her blonde hair. She wasn’t a typical Trivial with nearly colorless, bland skin. She looked more alive than any other I had met.

  She held out a hand, and I accepted it. Her handshake was firm. She didn’t let go as she began to speak.

  “My name is Kasha,” she said. “It’s a pleasure, Dormier.”

  “Thanks.” I hesitated to reply with “Pleasure to meet you” because I had uncertain feelings about this encounter.

  “We don’t want to fight,” Kasha added.

  “A Trivial just killed my father. I’m not in the mood for peace talk.”

  “We’re not all bad. We just want justice.” She looked over my shoulder at Brent.

  “So do I. For Papa.” I wondered if Kasha would help us put an end to the the violence. So far she seemed reasonable. Like us, she wanted justice. In fact, we were all on the same side. Perhaps we could come together in this moment, put our hearts and minds to use instead of our animalistic rage, and resolve the pain that every one of us had been carrying for decades.

  Kasha seemed to shift uncomfortably. Was she nervous, or was she trying to fake me out? When I felt hot breath on my neck, I understood Kasha’s reaction was two-fold. I glanced over my shoulder to see Neema, her eyes blazing red. Brent remained back with the rebels. He left negotiations to more tactful experts, I supposed.

  “What exactly do you want?” I asked Kasha.

  Her eyes moved from me to Neema and then back to me. “We want to be recognized. We want justice for all of us who died under Marin’s rule. We want—”

  She halted and, hesitantly, turned her eyes down at her belly where blood flowed from a blade that had been run through her from behind. Her chest heaved shallow breaths. Shock caused her already pale face to lose any suggestion of color.

  Neema caught the Trivial as she collapsed to one side with the sword speared through her and lowered her to the floor. Blood sputtered from Kasha’s mouth. Her brows raised high, almost to the line of her scalp, said she appeared more shocked than in pain.

  When I glared at the male Trivial who was the one who made the attack, I felt my body heat rise like fire. His face was recognizable now even though his body wasn’t in that spider-like, nightmarish form.

  James the Trivial from Colorado and later Kentucky—the one who had destroyed the Hume family homestead.

  I scrunched my brow,
compounding my mounting headache, as I plotted his death, as I envisioned his skeleton underneath all that white flesh melted into pulp.

  “You killed Papa,” I said under my breath.

  James didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Kasha’s eyes glazed over, her body limp. She never got back up to finish her thought. She was dead. Neema left her there when the army of Trivials charged us. My allies rushed, too. I felt their body heat surging toward me. As for me, I held my attention on the Trivial who killed Papa. When I killed James, I would be sure to burn that name into my arm as a trophy.

  “I’m going to kill you,” I said to him just as he gave me a sly smile before fading into the masses of Trivials and rebels beginning the final battle over Styx.

  Before I could get to him, I had to clear a path. While Matching with Neema or Brent was my first idea, I knew it would be better if we remained separated so that we could take out more Trivials. The rebels would surely fight and fight hard, but Trivials were much more difficult to bring down. Eidolons and Master Scriveners were the only ones who had any upper hand. It would take several rebels to bring down one Trivial.

  I waited. I would get James. I would melt him.

  I caught the upswing of a Trivial who tried to come at me while I was unfocused. I clamped my hand around his wrist, immediately burning him. Fear stopped me from wielding my heat before. Now that I was enraged, I hardly had to ask my heat to surface before it sprang to life in my hands. He roared. He tried to twist himself free. This one was not a big man, maybe an inch or two taller than me. My hand fully encircled his thin wrist. As a result, I held on tighter, burning away flesh and veins and ligaments. I felt bone as my fingers cooked through him.

  He let out agonizing cries as he failed to escape. In his eyes, I saw my reflection. Those milky white eyes of a Master Scrivener stared back. They were full of rage like I had never seen before—never felt before. I intended to melt him. All I needed to do was put both hands on him, then let go of my rage. I started to, but then an arm snaked around my throat.

  Despite my heat, the attacker behind me held me tightly. My grip on the thin Trivial released as my windpipe slowly crushed under the power of the other’s arm. I put both hands on him, trying to thwart his or her strength as I struggled to breathe. The room and the chaos of fighting Stygians began to gently spin. I tried squeaking for help. I tried to scout out my allies—preferably Brent or Neema. Neither Eidolon was nearby. Even so, their screeches vibrated the Heart, giving me a small lift of hope in my dire predicament.

  The thin Trivial came at me, licking his lips. The Trivial with his arm around my neck tightened his grip as his ally attacked me. I was quick enough to notice that his wrist had no flesh, and all that remained was bone and, thus, he had no use of it. When he lunged, I kicked with both feet, forcing my bodyweight into the person behind me. All three of us lost balance. The waif fell into a party of quarreling Trivials and rebels. He was quickly consumed by their efforts, almost like he was collateral damage as they tore into each other.

  The Trivial whose arm was around my neck broke my fall. I landed on top of him and then, as he struggled to maintain his control, we rolled onto our sides together. This entire fight grew more and more difficult as he squeezed my neck tighter. I flapped my hands. I kicked. But I was growing dizzier. So much dizzier.

  I would not go down by being choked to death. I would not die here in the Heart of Lethe after everything I had survived. I had been the one to destroy Head Reaper Marin. A piece of shit Trivial would not—could not—be my demise.

  Besides, I had a score to settle with the Trivial who killed Papa. My job in this life was not yet complete.

  Even though I couldn’t breathe deeply enough to stoke my inner fire, it didn’t matter. Perhaps all I needed was just a little fire to set off my inner powder keg. It started first in my gut, feeling like I was full of nerves. Then, more rapidly than I ever noticed before, the explosion rippled through me. This time, I didn’t feel my skin stretched thin or my body wracked with convulsions. This was far more elegant and contained. Once the flash of light cracked through me, I landed on my back in a pile of sludge that had been the Trivial. But no one around me went sailing into the air from a deluge of radiation. This was a tiny, contained explosion meant for one unfortunate Trivial.

  I climbed to my feet, stepping firmly in the sludge to add insult to that Trivial’s death. There was just enough time for me to appreciate what I had done before the next wave of Trivial anger came at me. This time, it was three females.

  And this time, I spotted the red death-stare of an Eidolon—only this one wasn’t Brent or Neema. I knew its face only because I had fought one similar at Wrightwick. Its name back then was Gizmo, and he’d nearly killed me before Errol had melted him. Now Gizmo 2.0 or his twin was marching through the crowd straight toward me.

  “Oh, fuck me,” I grunted.

  The three spun around to see the monster Eidolon, twice in size to Brent’s ghostly black shadow and more terrifying, charging right toward us. He knocked Trivials out of the way as if they were wispy tree branches in his path.

  What does he want with me?

  Even with my Master Scrivener skills, there was no taking on three Trivials and Gizmo 2.0 on my own, particularly when all were hell-bent on coming for me. I pivoted on my booted feet and began shoving my way through the pandemonium.

  I spotted the double doors again. My mind flashed a memory of Papa rushing toward them. He had helped clear a path for me so I could get on the other side of those doors. That had been when I saved Brent and stood up to Marin on live Stygian broadcasting. The memory left me reeling in a mixture of emotions. I needed Papa now. I wanted to look off to one side and see him coming to help me. He wouldn’t. He never would. I was on my own this time.

  I scanned for Brent or Neema. I heard them even over Gizmo’s roaring and the laughter from the pursuant Trivials. Neither of them was close enough to hear me scream for help. And anyone else who was close enough wasn’t strong enough to do much when it came to a steroidal-Eidolon fixed on destroying me.

  I was no stranger to fear. In some ways, I was confused when I didn’t find something horrifying. Living in the world of Styx and all its creepy peculiarities made fear a daily staple of life. But the fear I carried now was almost paralyzing. It was the fear of not accomplishing my task of avenging Papa’s death.

  Just as I came face-to-face with the hundreds of skulls carved into the wood double-doors, I felt two massive, icy hands grasp underneath my armpits. I screamed. It was Gizmo 2.0. But as I came off the floor, I realized I was not being torn in half or thrown across the Heart like a rag doll.

  “Join me,” said Gizmo before consuming me with his phantasm, Matching us as one.

  I thought you were coming for me, I thought.

  Yes, to Match, he said.

  As it had been with Chad and Neema, the feeling of being united with Gizmo was one of pure agony. Nonetheless, my power, augmented to meet Gizmo’s own influence, overrode that pain. I was overwhelmed by this more than the pain shooting through my veins like tiny daggers. And, I was relieved to have Gizmo on my side instead of ripping me in half down the middle.

  Why are you helping me? I asked.

  Because I can.

  Now that Marin is gone? I nudged.

  Because I can, Scrivener!

  I wasn’t sure why he picked me to Match with or why he wanted to help the rebellion, but I couldn’t assume every Eidolon found in Lethe was an enemy. Like Brent, this Eidolon could have been a slave to Marin, and this was his chance to set things right.

  I wouldn’t ask too many questions so long as he sided with us.

  The three Trivials halted their pursuit, their eyes wide with surprise.

  United, Gizmo and I stomped our foot to drive home our threat. The Trivials would need more than the three of them to bring us down, that much was certain. We took one, then two, then three long strides before we crashed into them. Two went flying off to the
sides as we zeroed in on the female in the center. Within seconds, she was reduced to severed pieces strewn across the plush hotel rug.

  The other two used that time to launch themselves onto our back, biting and slashing into our flesh. It was Gizmo who took the hits, not me. He was an icy shell. I was inside, like magma underneath a volcano preparing to erupt.

  “Over here!” the two called for assistance in perfect unison.

  We spun around to throw them off. Several other Trivials joined in, abandoning their fights with rebels to do it. Their weight bore down on Gizmo and, consequently, on me. This fight would not be as effortless as I thought. It seemed that Gizmo felt the same way.

  One, two, three more Trivials were torn apart at their seams before there was simply too much weight. Gizmo dropped to his knees. He was powerful. He wasn’t indestructible.

  Melt me, he said.

  No!

  Melt me…you’ll take more of them out… he grunted.

  He had helped me. How could I melt him just to bring down a handful of Trivials?

  Do it now! His internal voice was strained. He wouldn’t be able to hold out. As I looked up, I spotted more Trivials launching their spiderlike bodies into the air to destroy the both of us. Save yourself…kill them!

  Thank you, I uttered to this massive beast who tried to help me. That was all I could get out before I let the fire in me brew as I had done several times before, particularly back at Wrightwick. The instant I realized it was coming on in such a destructive force, it spread out from my body like wildfire. The blast sent everything attached to Gizmo sailing into the air. That familiar nuclear wave spiraled outward from me as I knelt on the floor. Droplets of thick, sticky ooze from the melted Trivials splattered everything nearby. And Gizmo 2.0, the Eidolon who had come to help me, was the sludge underneath me, gone into the ether forever.

  I did not see Brent or Neema or any of my allies. Anyone nearby who was still alive was struggling to stand, and the rest, too far to have felt the impact, continued to fight. I had no idea who was still alive or if we were losing or winning the fight. It didn’t damn well matter. I knew in my heart that the fucker who killed Papa was behind those double-doors, just like Marin had been two years ago.