Reaper (The Dreadhunt Trilogy Book 2)

by Ross Turner

  It wasn’t entirely clear, but it sounded like it was calling Marcii’s name.

  Reaper whipped round like lighting, crouching low, peering all around, ready to fight or flee again in an instant.

  The voice didn’t sound again at first and even as Reaper surveyed the trees with his impossibly perfect eyes Marcii could feel how tense his enormous body was.

  Seconds turned into what felt like hours in the edgy night.

  When the voice eventually called out again, this time much closer, Marcii almost jumped out of her skin.

  “Marcii.” It called. “Up here.”

  Reaper jumped back and Marcii gasped in both fear and surprise, looking up as the enormous demon pulled her to safety.

  For a moment her eyes searched the darkness, glancing between the bare branches in the poor light. Reaper, of course, saw immediately what it took Marcii several seconds to find.

  Vixen.

  “What the…?” Marcii started, but she struggled to finish.

  What in the world was Vixen doing here?

  All of a sudden Reaper seemed to relax, rising slowly from his crouched stance to look at Vixen more closely.

  The young orphan girl sat up the high branches of a bare tree in the darkness, higher even than Reaper was tall. She dropped down a few feet and took a seat upon the thickest section of a lower branch, descending to Reaper’s head height.

  The massive creature that even still held Marcii rose to his full height, levelling his gaze with that of the young orphan girl, and stared her straight in the eye.

  For a moment Vixen said not another word.

  She just stared back into Reaper’s deep, jet black eyes like coal, lost in them amidst the darkness all around.

  And then, all of a sudden, Reaper smiled. The tension in his body faded and melted away as if he knew something about the strange young girl that Marcii did not.

  She seemed somehow to fill him with a calm and reassured confidence.

  Vixen reached out slowly and ran her hand gently down the tough, leathery hide of Reaper’s cheek.

  The more that Marcii looked on, seeing clearly that something was passing between the young orphan and the monstrous demon, the less she understood what it was.

  “What are you doing here?” Marcii hissed, breaking the silence of the bare forest. The trees were filled with intruders that swarmed between its vast trunks, searching for their victims, and all the while they were just stood around upon the whims of a little girl.

  Vixen raised her hand in the darkness to silence Marcii and Reaper looked down briefly at her with an expression that insisted she complied.

  Marcii hushed her noise, though her unanswered question still hung in the air. As far as she could see there was no obvious or logical reply. Nonetheless, Vixen waited even still, listening to the sounds of the night, and Marcii remained utterly dumbfounded.

  Then the sounds of scraping steel and banging iron carried through the dense, dark forest, reaching Marcii’s ears and filling her once more with dread.

  Though they too listened intently, and probably heard much more than the young Dougherty did, Vixen and Reaper seemed not to be affected so by the chilling sounds. It was as if there was a fourth person amongst them, whispering quietly in their ears, calming them, yet ignoring Marcii altogether.

  Or at least, as far as she could tell, she felt like she was being ignored.

  “Wait here a minute.” Vixen instructed them suddenly, glancing around briefly through the driving rainfall, still having not answered Marcii’s question. “There’s a group approaching.” She explained. “Don’t move. They will pass.”

  The young orphan sounded so certain, as if she’d seen this all pass before and was simply remembering what would happen next.

  Marcii’s eyes grew wider by the moment, though Reaper seemed unfazed and even relaxed in Vixen’s bizarre presence.

  But then, Marcii supposed, Reaper was rather unique himself. She reasoned somehow that she probably shouldn’t have been so surprised.

  “There’s a ravine, there.” Vixen continued, indicating with her tiny hand through the darkness of the forest.

  Marcii and Reaper looked on, following her gaze. Reaper nodded confidently and Marcii could sense he knew exactly what she spoke of.

  “Pass through the ravine and go west.” The young orphan instructed. “They won’t be able to follow you.”

  Marcii wondered how in the world Vixen knew these things, as she stared on incredulously through the darkness, straining her eyes to see what Reaper undoubtedly saw.

  Reaper raised his hand to Vixen’s height, holding Marcii still with his other arm, and thanked Vixen with a small, almost indiscernible gesture.

  Suddenly the sound of voices cut through the trees, frighteningly close.

  Reaper crouched down low and clutched Marcii tightly to his chest.

  He still didn’t seem tense, even though every hair on Marcii’s body stood on end in fear.

  But sure enough, just as Vixen had said, though the patrol drew close, close enough even for Marcii to see their looming silhouettes from between the trees, they did not find them.

  Their voices were hushed and harsh but they carried a great distance through the night, as voices always will. They spoke only of finding the witch and her demon and slitting both their throats.

  Marcii’s blood ran cold and her breaths grew shallow. If it had not been for Reaper holding her so close, her fear would likely have consumed her.

  She couldn’t believe Tyran had instilled such hatred in his people.

  She was no witch.

  And Reaper was no demon.

  Was he?

  Soon the silhouettes vanished into the night and Reaper rose to his full height once more.

  Marcii looked back up to the branch upon which Vixen had sat, only to find that she was no longer there.

  At least she was growing accustomed to some things, it seemed. The young orphan’s disappearance no longer shocked her so. She still didn’t understand it, but she had at least expected it, sooner or later.

  Now that the danger had mostly passed, they hoped, Marcii dropped to the floor and she and Reaper made their way together through the still pouring rain towards the elusive ravine that Vixen had spoken of.

  Her legs felt heavy as she forced one foot in front of the other. The soggy ground gave way unhelpfully beneath her feet and served only to tire her further.

  She could feel the damp cold through her leather shoes and she kept close at Reaper’s side for his warmth.

  Soon the ground beneath Marcii’s feet turned from marsh to rocks and they found themselves clambering over great boulders. Eventually Marcii saw that they were sliding between the steep sides of a great ravine that cut impossibly out of the ground on either side of her.

  Marcii wondered what Vixen had meant when she’d told them Tyran’s men would not have been able to follow them, but she didn’t have to wait long for her answer.

  All of a sudden Reaper’s hands darted out to stop Marcii in her tracks. She looked up inquisitively through the hammering rain at the enormous creature.

  “What is it?” She asked, confused.

  Reaper indicated with his hand to the steep, rocky walls that rose up around them, and then pointed to the floor before them.

  Marcii was confused, for all she could see in the darkness were rocks and grass and mud.

  But when Reaper took a pace forwards and his massive leg like a tree trunk sank at least a foot into the ground, Marcii realised all of a sudden why they would not be followed.

  The rain was running off the sides of the rocky ravine in great torrents, creating a deadly marsh all the way through.

  Without a sound or even a gesture Reaper scooped Marcii once again up into his arms and lifted her to sit upon one of his enormous shoulders. Without wasting another moment, the vast creature strode immediately into the bog, sinking deeper and deeper with every step he took.

  His powerful strides forc
ed their way through the thick slush, parting it either side of his massive legs with a disgusting gloopy sound that made Marcii’s skin crawl.

  In his wake Reaper left the ground in a state of churned turmoil, as the mud grew ever deeper, to the point even where Reaper was up to above his waist in it.

  Had he not been so tall, or so powerful, he would certainly either have gotten stuck or drowned in the muck.

  Voices echoed behind them in the darkness, but Marcii felt safer than she had done all night. Not only did she still have Reaper protecting her, but there was a virtually impassable bog between them and Tyran’s men.

  The further Reaper waded, pressing on relentlessly through the thick, slimy water, the quieter the voices became. The rewarding silence all around engulfed them completely, disturbed only by the sound of Reaper’s struggling steps as he carried the young Marcii Dougherty to safety.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Marcii had never seen Reaper struggle so. Even though they’d made it back onto flat, solid ground, his head hung lower and lower with every step. But it wasn’t crossing through the ravine that had taken its toll on Reaper, Marcii suddenly realised, coming all at once to her senses.

  Marcii halted and Reaper followed suit, wondering what the matter was.

  “Stop, Reaper.” The young Dougherty insisted. “Let me look at your wounds.”

  With a small gesture of his hands Reaper insisted that he was fine, but Marcii was not about to take no for an answer and she stubbornly refused to let the enormous creature defy her wishes.

  “Reaper!” She replied firmly. “You’re injured! Let me look!”

  Finally conceding to Marcii’s words, seeing that she was not about to relent, Reaper obediently dropped to one knee, knowing that she was deadly serious.

  Just as she had feared, upon closer inspection, Marcii found that Reaper’s burns and cuts were not as mild as he was making out. He was still bleeding where Tyran’s men had here and there managed to pierce his thick hide and from their torches his skin was scalded terribly.

  “Oh Reaper…” Marcii breathed, running her hands gently around his wounds, examining his arms and chest and back and legs.

  Suddenly Reaper’s hands burst into life, knowing that Marcii was concerned for him. He explained to her that his injuries were not fatal, but if they weren’t sealed, they would take a long time to heal.

  “What can I do?” Marcii asked, wanting of course to help.

  Reaper’s hands continued to dance, though she could see him wince slightly every time he moved. He instructed her to gather handfuls of mud from the drenched ground and cover his burns and cuts.

  “Mud?” Marcii questioned, eyeing his cuts with concern. “Won’t they get infected?” She would never have put mud on her own wounds, surely. And with that mere thought, her own burned shoulder seemed to sear into life once again.

  They needed water to clean them.

  But Reaper’s hands wove yet more intricate and delicate patterns in the air. Undoubtedly his gestures were far too complex to understand, but Marcii knew exactly what he was telling her.

  He explained that the dirt would not infect his wounds like it might for humans. He told Marcii that just as his skin was thicker than hers, so too was his blood. The mud would harden and help seal his wounds and stop the bleeding. Then, in time, it would peel and flake off, leaving him fully healed.

  Marcii on the other hand, though the wound on her shoulder was not as serious as Reaper’s injuries, still needed to find fresh water.

  Taking his word for gospel, wincing slightly as she scooped handfuls of mud from the soggy ground, Marcii applied it liberally all over Reaper’s wounds. He groaned inwardly as she smeared the dirt over his cuts and burns, but he endured in motionless silence.

  After a few minutes she had lathered all of his injuries in mud and Reaper stood once again to his feet and rose to full height.

  His hands flickered a swift sign, thanking Marcii for her care.

  She smiled warmly through the night.

  “You’re welcome.” She replied. “Which way?” She asked him then.

  His hands spun into motion once more. He told her they would keep going west, towards Ravenhead. He assured her that there was a stream not too far away that would be full after all the rainfall. They could use that to treat her shoulder.

  There was much more Reaper would have liked to have done for her wound, but there were simply not the resources available.

  As Reaper’s hands spoke Marcii couldn’t help but notice a deep regret and sorrow that coursed through him, probably without him even realising.

  “How do you know which way is west?” Marcii asked, for there were no stars by which to see.

  Marcii didn’t know that Reaper’s anguish was due to finally relenting and heading for Ravenhead, for he gave nothing of it away.

  She simply presumed it was from his wounds.

  It was on Vixen’s word that he would lead Marcii there, and he was certainly not about to go back on what She’d asked of him.

  Reaper’s hands wove patterns then that Marcii had not seen from him before, and though she understood what he was telling her, it didn’t quite make sense.

  “The ground tells you?” Marcii questioned, confused. “I thought people navigated by the stars?”

  Her err however had not been in her understanding of his words, but indeed in her own thoughts.

  Reaper’s hands danced again, explaining to her that indeed people did navigate using the stars, but that such things were done out of necessity, rather than choice.

  She had misunderstood his meaning. It wasn’t the ground that helped him, he explained, but the very earth itself. The world was alive: the trees, the wind, the rain. He could feel it with his every breath and it guided him like nothing else.

  Marcii looked on, astonished.

  Reaper continued, revealing pure truths that surely only he could understand.

  His hands danced for the young Dougherty and she marvelled at them, as he explained to her that most humans would never be able to feel the world in the way that he did.

  In the same way as they used the stars to navigate their own planet, so far away and disconnected, they would always look afar beyond their own reach to understand what was right in front of their eyes. No matter how hard they looked, because of that mere fact, they would never find all that they wished to know.

  They were too cut off from their own world, from their home. So much so that they simply could not comprehend it.

  They never would.

  A cavity opened in Marcii’s chest where surely her heart had once been.

  If this was what it meant to be human, for now she saw more clearly than she ever had done, she didn’t want to be.

  She would have been better off a demon.

  Regardless of what the world thought of her, Reaper cared for her always.

  Surely, no matter what he was, he was infinitely better than all the evil Tyran had instilled.

  It seemed that to be demonic was kinder and infinitely less cruel than to be human for even a second.

  For a brief time that night, amidst the darkness all around, Marcii longed to be free from her human self. She yearned to feel the same connection to the world that Reaper did.

  For a moment at least, without a second thought, she longed to be a demon.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The rest of the night passed quickly. Even before sunrise approached on the distant horizon Marcii was exhausted. As ever, Reaper seemed not to be tired, but clearly his wounds had taken their toll upon him. He seemed relieved when they eventually found shelter to stop and rest.

  The stream he’d told Marcii of had indeed been close, allowing her to thoroughly clean her burn and see, thankfully, that it wasn’t as bad as it felt. The patch on her shoulder that the licking flames had caught felt tight and hot. It would heal quickly though, for she was young and had every reason to.

  Morning soon came and brought sunr
ise along with it. Though they weren’t fortunate enough to locate a cave, Marcii and Reaper sought shelter amidst the thickest copse of trees they could find.

  It shielded them from the exposing sunlight and retained at least a little of Reaper’s vast warmth, for every time she stopped moving Marcii’s muscles threatened to seize up in the relentless cold.

  Certainly without Reaper she would have succumbed to its icy clutches a long time ago.

  Marcii slept heavily in drowning exhaustion, not waking even once.

  Reaper did not sleep, but his body was in dire need of rest. As he sat, unmoving as ever, with Marcii curled up on his lap, his mind raced while his body recovered.

  His demonic thoughts tumbled and churned, filled with dreadful memories that swam in bottomless regret.

  Marcii knew not of Reaper’s torment, or at least he hoped she had not sensed as such.

  She didn’t need to know.

  He didn’t want her to know.

  Not yet at least.

  Marcii didn’t yet know what Vixen was either.

  Reaper hadn’t known of her before admittedly, but he’d sensed it as soon as he’d seen the young orphan.

  Like he’d told Marcii, he could sense things that most humans could not.

  Things that Marcii could not feel.

  Or, at the very least, things she could not yet feel.

  Darkness rolled around again as the world turned laboriously on, casting its endless shadows over the forests and plains and ravines. The night stirred Marcii and Reaper into motion once more as it spun.

  Fortune was at last favouring them it seemed, for they met no one in the new blackness and made very good time.

  Marcii knew from the many tales she’d heard that it took three full days to reach Ravenhead from Newmarket.

  It took her and Reaper much less time however, partly they were already partway there, and then also because the enormous demon carried Marcii some of the way too. Reaper was much recuperated and he was eager to put as much distance between them and Tyran’s men as possible.

  Marcii felt more alive and more free than she had done in a very long time. It was not that she’d felt trapped in Reaper’s cave, but instead now that Newmarket was fading into a distant memory, she could finally let its grasp on her loose, even if only slightly.