My Tethered Soul: Volume 2 (Reaper's Rite)

by Dorothy Dreyer

  Lilura flung a chunk of hair out of her face. She eyed Mrs. Poulter, but couldn’t seem to hold her gaze. “With all due respect, I don’t need your pity.”

  “I hardly consider a glass of water pity. And for all you know, I could have had it poisoned. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to trust a witch?”

  The corner of Lilura’s mouth twitched upward for a split second.

  “Your water, ma’am,” Jeffrey announced as he presented a silver tray holding a crystal glass.

  “I’m no ‘ma’am.’ Call me Lilura.” She snatched the glass off the tray and pressed it to her wrinkled lips. Jeffrey kept a straight face as he bowed and left the room.

  Mrs. Poulter cleared her throat. “I’ll have the guest rooms made ready, and you can all stay the night. We can discuss the Reaper’s Rite after dinner, once you’ve all rested from your trip.”

  “There are two more of us coming,” Chase said. “My brother and another Vila.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Mrs. Poulter donned a sarcastic smile. “I hardly expected a full house, Helene. You could have given me some warning.”

  “Warning to fly the coop?” Helene scoffed. “I’m not that stupid.”

  Mrs. Poulter raised a brow. “That theory’s never been proven.”

  “Neither has your age.”

  “They should be here soon,” Chase cut in. “Thank you for letting us stay, Mrs. Poulter. I’m… sorry I raised my voice to you earlier.”

  “Don’t be sorry, darling.” Helene took a compact out of her purse and checked her reflection. “She could use a good slap in the face once in a while. Puts some much-needed color in her cheeks.”

  “You called, Mother?” A girl about my age appeared at the door. Her black hair was styled in a chin-length bob, the tips dyed baby blue. Her brown eyes flitted around the room, taking in the roomful of people, all the while keeping her full lips in a straight line. The piercing in her eyebrow glinted in the light. She wore a short-sleeved silk blouse above a black and pink plaid skirt and white knee-high socks. Heavy black Doc Martens completed the look.

  To her right was another girl my age, but her look was softer. She had flowing auburn hair that fell smoothly to just below her shoulders. Her eyes were a shade of blue that matched a starlit sky when the moon was full. She wore a simple yellow and white summer dress and beige wedge shoes.

  To the left, texting on his phone, stood a guy who looked between Mara’s and Hunter’s ages. He glanced up for a moment and gave us a curt nod. With the same brown eyes as the girl with the blue tips, his face was more defined and rugged. He was almost too handsome to be real. He stood almost a whole head taller than Blue Tips, even with his laid-back, almost-slouchy posture.

  “Yes, Diana. We have company. They will be joining us for dinner and staying with us tonight.” Mrs. Poulter faced us again but gestured to the three people at the door. “This is my daughter Diana,” she said, her hand held out to indicate Blue Tips, “and my son Paxton. The lovely young lady next to Diana is my niece, Erina. Erina has been living with us for almost a year now.”

  Helene smiled at the trio. “My, how you’ve all grown. You probably don’t remember me, but at one point I changed each of your diapers.”

  “Ew.” Diana wrinkled her nose.

  “This is Helene,” Mrs. Poulter said.

  “And these are my friends: Lilura, Chase, Zadie, Gavin, and Naomi.”

  Erina smiled at us, but Diana scrutinized us as if she didn’t trust us. Paxton continued to text.

  “I’m going to show Lilura to her room, as she’s not feeling well,” Mrs. Poulter told them. “Please entertain the rest of our guests until I return.”

  “Sure, whatever.” Diana walked over and rested her hands on the back of one of the chairs. Her fingernails were baby blue to match her hair.

  Chase took Lilura’s arm and helped her up from the couch. She looked like she was about to fight him off, but then her face twisted and her hand pressed up against her chest.

  “I’ll help,” Helene said. She and Chase supported Lilura as Mrs. Poulter led them out of the room.

  Sable meowed, almost following them. She whipped her head around to look at us, then trotted to Erina, rubbing up against her legs.

  “Cute cat. Did you have a long trip?” Erina asked.

  “My butt is permanently molded into the shape of the seat in the car.” Naomi smirked. “So, yeah.”

  “What exactly are you doing here, anyway?” Diana cracked her knuckles.

  Gavin and I exchanged a look.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” I said.

  Diana rolled her eyes. “Never mind. It’s probably boring anyway.”

  The phone in Paxton’s hand played a quick tune. He held it to his ear, a charming smile appearing on his face. “Hey, babe. I was just thinking about you.” He wandered off to the corner of the room where we couldn’t hear him.

  “The older woman—is she all right?” Erina sat down on the couch beside me. Sable jumped up on her lap.

  “She’s…sick.”

  “Sorry.” Erina grimaced.

  “Is that why you came?” Diana narrowed her eyes at me. “To buy a remedy off my mom?”

  “No. We’re here to talk about, well, the Reaper’s Rite.” I watched her expression to see if she knew what I was referring to.

  Diana pursed her lips. “Are you a Vila?”

  I rubbed my hands on my shorts and then nodded.

  Diana let out a small laugh, then shook her head and left the room.

  What was that about?

  Paxton, who was finished with his phone call, sauntered over to us. “Don’t mind her. She hates everyone.”

  He winked at Naomi. She grinned and averted her eyes, cheeks aflame.

  “What about you?” Paxton asked Gavin.

  Gavin slipped his arm around me. “I’m her Cation.”

  Paxton leaned forward. “No way. That’s cool; I’ve never met a Cation before. You look normal.”

  “You mean as normal as a witch?” Gavin asked.

  Paxton laughed. “Touché.”

  His phone sang again. He stood as he answered it. “Hey, babe. No, I swear I was just about to call you.”

  He winked at Naomi again before he ambled back to the corner of the room.

  Naomi leaned toward Erina. “So, what’s his deal?”

  “Who? Paxton? He’s a dork.”

  “No, really.”

  “Okay. He’s a huge dork.”

  Naomi lowered her voice. “He’s got a girlfriend?”

  Erina laughed, shaking her head. “More like a harem.”

  “I can see why. He’s cute.”

  Erina shrugged, running her fingers along Sable’s back. “Sorry, I don’t see it. But maybe it’s the whole cousin thing.”

  “Trust me, he is.”

  “Don’t get sucked into that. Paxton is what people call a ‘player.’ Getting girls to like him is a game to him. He discards them as easily as he gets them.”

  Naomi tilted her head. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, you’ve been warned. Don’t blame me if you fall for his charms.”

  From across the room, Paxton glanced at Naomi and smiled.

  She waved back at him. “Okay, I won’t.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The doorbell rang, the chimes echoing like church bells in the foyer. I sat up straight and craned my neck as Jeffrey answered the door. After an exchange of mumbled words, Mara and Hunter entered the living room.

  I stood and hurried toward my sister. “What took you so long?”

  Mara rolled her eyes. “Genius here decided to take the scenic route.”

  “I’d say it was a genius move.” Hunter smirked and shrugged. “I got to spend more time with you holding on to me, didn’t I?”

  Mara’s brow inched upward. “And I got to spend more time having to endure your stink.”

  “You just don’t want to admit how much you enjoyed yourself.” He leaned close to her, hi
s lips near her ear. “And my stink will have you tossing and turning all night. Mark my words.”

  Mara opened her mouth, but she kept silent. She snapped her lips shut and growled before she turned away from him.

  “Hi, I’m Erina.” Walking over from the couch, Erina smiled.

  Just as I introduced my sister and Hunter, a portly woman in a black servant’s uniform walked up behind Hunter.

  The woman cleared her throat. “Excuse me. I’m Britta. The lady of the house wants me to inform you that dinner will be served shortly. If you follow me, I’ll show you to the dining room.”

  “Perfect,” Hunter said. “I’m starving.”

  “I’ll go get Diana.” Erina put a hand on my arm as she walked passed. “See you at dinner.”

  Paxton continued to talk on his phone, seemingly oblivious to us.

  Britta escorted us through the house, passing expensive-looking, wall-mounted art and oil paintings of who I assumed were family members. The dining room was massive; the long, dark walnut table in the center of the room sat on a beautiful Persian rug and was big enough to seat twelve people at least. On the far wall stood an intricately carved grandfather clock, its golden pendulum swinging to each second. Above it, mounted on the wall, was another huge samurai sword. The shiny blade looked razor sharp.

  Two additional servants set the table with the finest china I’d ever seen. The silverware actually sparkled in the light. The dinner glasses had gold rims.

  I suddenly felt extremely underdressed.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” Britta gestured to the bar at the corner of the room.

  “Got any scotch?” Hunter hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets.

  Mrs. Poulter entered the room, Helene and Chase shuffling in behind her. “Please make yourselves at home. Lilura is resting, but said she’d be down later. The first course will be served presently.”

  She motioned toward the table. I bee-lined it to the nearest chair and slid into it. The rest of the group assembled around the long table, with Mrs. Poulter at one end. Just as I wondered if there was a Mr. Poulter, a tall man in glasses and an anthracite-colored suit strode in. His hair grayed at the sides, and his sideways glances told me he didn’t trust us. He wouldn’t look anyone in the eye as he took his seat, but kept his chin up—probably to give the impression of how important he was.

  “This is my husband.” Mrs. Poulter offered a small smile.

  Gavin subtly gave me a wide-eyed look, as if telling me he found Mr. Poulter kind of creepy.

  “If he seems quiet,” Diana said as she strolled in, Erina and Paxton in tow, “it’s because he doesn’t approve of fraternizing with Vila.”

  Mara and I glanced at each other. So that explained what happened earlier, when Diana left the room laughing. No doubt she thought this would be an entertaining visit.

  “Go on, Father. Tell them what you think.” Diana grinned and batted her lashes.

  Mrs. Poulter cleared her throat as she placed a cloth napkin on her lap. “Diana, your manners, please.”

  Diana rolled her eyes and dropped into a chair. “Whatever.”

  “Your mother and I have an understanding, Diana.” Mr. Poulter’s voice was calm. “I trust that she knows how to handle her business. She has every right to carry on, as long as she does not include me.”

  An awkward silence fogged the room as the first course—Thai pumpkin soup with coconut milk—was served. I’d never felt more uncomfortable; between not knowing which spoon to use and avoiding Mr. Poulter’s scrutiny, I wanted to flee from the table, to hell with my grumbling tummy. Of course, I changed my mind once I tasted the soup. It was the most delicious food that had ever passed my lips. Naomi obviously liked it as well, happily slurping until I gave her a swift kick under the table so she’d quiet down.

  “Nice necklace,” Erina said to me between bites. “Agate, right?”

  I put my hand on the stone. “Yes.”

  “For protection. A good thing to have.” She smiled. “It’s pretty too.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lilura joined us just as the servants set the plates down for the main course. Hunter pulled her chair out for her, but Lilura swatted him away. I was so happy to see her. She had a little color back in her face, and she didn’t hunch so much.

  “Lilura, darling.” Helene clasped her hands together. “How are you feeling?”

  “Thanks to that tea Morgan had brewed up for me, much better.” Lilura sat in the spot across from me. Her expression was almost pleasant. What was in that tea?

  “Grandma.” Chase’s voice was hushed. “Are you sure?”

  She shifted in her chair, glancing at me before facing him. “It was just weariness from the car ride. My body’s not made for long trips.”

  For the rest of dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Poulter kept their eyes on each other. I wondered if they were having some kind of secret, unspoken conversation. It certainly felt like it.

  Finally, before dessert was served, Mr. Poulter stood. “I’m retiring to the den. Please, excuse me.”

  “Sorry about him,” Paxton said once his father was out of the room. “He can be kind of an ass.”

  “Paxton!” Mrs. Poulter chided.

  Hunter stifled a laugh.

  “You know it’s true, Mother.” Diana propped her elbows on the table. “Actually, I was hoping for more of a show. I’m amazed he made it this long without judging someone. And there are four Vila at the table!”

  “Diana, that will be enough.” Mrs. Poulter patted her mouth with her napkin. “Now that my husband has left the room, we might touch upon the subject of the Reaper’s Rite.”

  Helene checked her reflection in her fork. “All these years we’ve known each other, I should have known you were the ancestor of the witch who made the deal.”

  “The subject never came up.” Mrs. Poulter lifted her wineglass. “Why would I offer that information? Besides, as you could clearly see by my husband’s behavior, my family isn’t exactly proud of its Vila connection.”

  Lilura pushed her dessert plate away, leaving the pear and cinnamon tartlet untouched. “What can you tell us about the Rite?”

  Mrs. Poulter joined her hands on the table’s edge. Everyone waited for her to speak. “The witch who made the pact was in the middle of a war. Witches and faeries alike were being slaughtered. She wanted it to end. The only way she knew to do this—to win the war by conquering the faeries— was for witches to massively increase their power. So she summoned a Reaper and made the deal.”

  “Is there a way to break it?” Lilura asked.

  Mrs. Poulter shook her head. “If there is, I’ve never heard of it. Besides, the war is still going on. Not as it did then, but in private battles humans never hear word of. Every witch knows about the deal that was made. If we break the pact of our ancestor, who’s to say another witch won’t summon another Reaper and make a new pact?”

  Lilura and Helene exchanged a look. Lilura leaned forward. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I suppose. Our main concern is to break this pact now and stop the Reaper attacks.”

  “What do you propose we do?”

  Helene swallowed a bite of her tartlet. “I say we have a word with your great, great, great grandmother. I’m sure there’s a few more ‘greats’ in there, but who can even keep track?”

  “A séance?” Diana creased her brow, a bemused smile twisting her lips.

  “Cool,” Naomi whispered.

  “Oh, that’s right.” Mrs. Poulter leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “You’re a medium.”

  “This just gets better and better,” Diana mumbled to Paxton.

  “We should do it tomorrow. I’ll need a good night’s rest and a few hours beforehand to meditate. A clear mind helps open the pathways to the dead.”

  “Creepy,” Paxton said.

  “Super creepy,” Gavin added.

  Mrs. Poulter regarded Helene for a long moment. Then she threw her hands up and shook her head
. “All right. We’ll do it tomorrow.”

  The servants cleared the dessert dishes and placed a shot glass in front of each of us. Naomi’s eyes went wide as her lips pushed into a small smile. My eyes shot to Mara.

  “It’s a digestif,” Erina said, catching my look. “It’s supposed to help with digestion.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Poulter said. “It’s cognac.” She raised a brow at Lilura. “Seriously, dear woman, don’t you teach them anything?”

  Lilura downed her cognac then slammed the glass on the table. “I teach them what needs to be taught.”

  ***

  Naomi was shown her room first. She must have loved it, because she didn’t come back down after Jeffrey chaperoned her upstairs. Mara, Hunter, Gavin, and I waited in the living room with Paxton, Erina, and Diana while Chase and Helene helped Lilura to her room.

  Mrs. Poulter told us we’d each be shown to our rooms as soon as they were ready. She assured us, before she announced she was going to bed, that her staff would take great care of us and bring us whatever we needed.

  Paxton and Hunter sat in two leather chairs by the fireplace. Paxton sighed and pulled out a wooden box from a side table drawer. He opened the box, then pulled out a cigar and ran it under his nose. Dimples appeared when he smiled.

  “You ever had one of these?” He offered it to Hunter.

  Hunter took it and copied Paxton’s move of sniffing it. “No. I never actually had the time to sit back and give it a try.”

  “You should totally try it.” Paxton reached in the drawer for a cigar cutter. “These are imported from Cuba. Very hard to get into the country.”

  Paxton clipped the end off Hunter’s cigar, then his own, and proceeded to light them.

  “Ew.” Mara wrinkled her nose.

  Hunter let out a puff of smoke. “What?”

  “You smoke cigars now?”

  Hunter smirked. “Let’s just say I’m not afraid to try things I’m not familiar with.”

  Mara narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. I’m talking about cigars. What are you talking about?”

  Mara hesitated. “Cigars.”

  Paxton let out a laugh.