“Of course there’s nothing—” I halt, run over the words again in my head. Is he insinuating… I jerk around so hard pain shoots from my neck, spreading down my spine. “What do you mean by something else going on?”
His jaw is clenched, his body rigid, but he doesn’t say anything, just stares at me. Lips I’ve longed to touch with mine since I walked onto this field fifty minutes ago are now pressed tightly in a thin slash.
I untangle our and take a step back, waiting for him to explain himself. Say something to take away words still buzzing in my ears. Oh, dear Lord! Really? “You can’t be thinking what I think you are.” Heat dashes all over my body, prickling my skin. Right now all I want to do is punch him. “Are you serious, Ro? Me and Herr Schulz?”
He’s still staring at me, his eyes frozen chips of steel. “It’s been known to happen. Teachers and students. And you’re beautiful.”
Gah! I need to blink right now before my eyes dry out. I think I’m about to vomit my heart out.
He lifts a hand and starts rubbing the back of his neck, now spluttered with red patches.
Something gathers at the base of my stomach and tickles its way up my throat. Definitely not nausea, it can only be…
I burst out laughing. I’m starting to think I need professional help. Serious professional help. Wiping the corners of my eyes with my fingers, I blink up at Rolf, taking in the awful glint of his eyes. His paranoia is in direct proportion to his sweetness. Not a pretty thing to see when it roars.
“I’m not the type, Ro.” My voice comes out harshly, something my laughter didn’t soften. His shoulders hunch as if to protect himself from an oncoming blow.
I’ve never punched anyone before. But now… now, I want to do it. I’m dying to yell. It’d surely help release the tight knot of frustration lodged somewhere in my chest. Given the storm brewing in Rolf’s eyes, my yelling would also bring out the whole damn cavalry, plus cannon fire, ready to explode from him. If we’re going to fight, better in private.
“Go to hell, Rolf.” I turn and stalk off.
I hear him curse, then start after me. “Ana, listen.” I don’t turn around. “Jesus, Ana. Just stop for a minute.”
I spin around. “What, Ro? Do you think so low of me?”
His right hand crawls up around his neck again and rubs it. Veins on his arms and neck stick out and look as though they can’t contain themselves under his skin. He lifts his face, his eyes on me, and my stupid, stupid heart trots wildly inside my chest. The grey in his eyes has softened, full of remorse. And something else: fear.
I sigh inwardly. If only it were possible to have interchangeable hearts, one for situations like this where I need to stand firm without melting into him.
“I’m really, really sorry, Ana. When he touched your shoulder, his face… It was as though…” He lets the words trail. A red flush fills his face.
My heart picks up a beat. Could he have overheard my chat with Grim? What did he see? “As though what, Ro?”
“As though you’re something precious. I don’t know. You’ve got to see the image of you two from an outsider’s view.” He motions with his palms face up in a pleading gesture.
Hmm. When he puts it that way, with Grim looking all fatherly and proud in Schulz’s body, but still…
I head for the changing rooms, my hands clenched at my sides. I slam the door behind me and slump on it, breathing in and out. Once I’ve changed into my blue jeans and white T-shirt, I head for my locker and grab my violin. Turning around, I come face to face with Lea, her artist portfolio slung across her shoulder ready for her portrait class, and Reiner, his camera hanging around his neck. Seconds later, Rolf appears. Lea and Reiner’s eyes shift to me, then Rolf.
“Everything okay in Ana-Rolf paradise?” Reiner asks, his eyes holding mine much longer than necessary.
That’s Reiner, always protective of Lea and me. Lately he’s become more so, as if to prove he isn’t like his bad-tempered father who comes home drunk and takes out his frustrations on his family.
I nod and allow my lips to stretch slightly. This is between Rolf and me. Reiner’s eyes shift to Rolf and narrow imperceptibly. My body stiffens as Rolf slings a hand over my shoulder, pulling me closer. The fact that they’re in the same class and have been friends for the last year doesn’t override Reiner’s protectiveness.
“Yeah,” Rolf says, a smile wavering on his lips.
Outside the auditorium, we part ways with Lea and Reiner. As we enter the room, the music teacher pauses and glares at us for our tardiness. Head bowed, I shuffle and take my usual seat with the other violinists, while Rolf scoots over to the pianists. The tiny scars that mar my hands itch so much I want to scream. I grab my violin and run my fingers along its smooth surface, breathing in and out to lessen the pain devouring me. The anger burning in my throat begins to fade.
LIKE EVERY GIRL, I have dreams and goals. Mine are carved in my brain, among them finishing high school, joining the Vienna Conservatory, and later joining the Vienna Philharmonic. My dream is to have a wonderful boyfriend—which I do—lose my virginity, get married, have four kids, and live happily ever after.
After the accident, my dreams and goals shifted. Completing my thirteen months of Novicehood so Grim can release my family’s souls from the contract has taken the top spot.
That night I twist and turn on my bed, my thoughts hovering between my conversation with Grim and my argument with Rolf. Eventually I peer at the silver alarm clock on my nightstand. The white numbers ‘4:21’ blink at me, taunting from their black background. One hour before my usual waking time.
I kick the crochet bedcover aside, swing my legs out then lean to my right to switch on the bedside lamp and freeze. Did something move near the wardrobe? I squint, straining to make out any shifting shadows. Nothing.
I roll my eyes.
Dramatics, Ana. Lack of sleep is definitely messing with your head.
Tiptoeing to the window, I part the curtains and stare at the rise and fall of the Danube River. I smile, thinking of my family and friends swimming and boating in summer and ice-skating in winter on the Danube. We’ve lived in this part of the twenty-second district for as long as I can remember. Mom inherited the house from her parents. My gaze drifts to the tarmac path, tracing the unlit neighbouring houses. Probably I’m the only one awake around here. I turn away from the window and freeze. The smell of pine tickles my senses.
A shadow detaches itself from the space between the two wardrobes where the darkness is denser. I lunge for the door, a scream bubbling up my throat. My hand grips the doorknob, ready to yank it open.
“Well done, Novice,” a voice says, the tone so low and smooth, it might as well be dark velvet.
My heart leaps straight to a full canter. My hand trembles, rattling the door and its frame.
Grim? Seriously?
I peer in the darkness just to make sure. A shadowy figure peels itself from the wall and glides forwards. He stops at the foot of my bed, hands casually tucked inside his dark trouser suit.
After a few moments of staring at each other, I abandon my only route of escape and sidle towards the nightstand, my eyes still trained on Grim. I flip the switch on and squint at the sudden light, then shuffle backwards until I feel the hard wall on my back.
Why does he look so pleased?
“You scared me to death,” I say, clutching my chest.
Grim rolls his eyes. “So very human of you. Death is overrated. You’re a natural. But then, with a soul as strong as yours, I did not expect less from you.”
He sounds like my dad when I’ve done something that surpasses his expectations. In this case, I don’t even know what I did right. And did he have to creep inside my room like that?
I blink. Suddenly, Grim’s standing close, his arm stretched towards me palm up. “It is time, Novice.”
I gape at him. “Now? It’s—” I straighten from the wall as I hear a door opening and closing somewhere outside my room. Hushed
voices drift closer. Mom and Dad. My feet can’t move. My eyes dart to the door, then to Grim, casually poised in front me. The image of my world capsizing as soon as Mom and Dad catch him in my room flashes through my mind. Sweat pools under my arms.
My eyes search the room and narrow in on my wardrobe. If Mom finds Grim here, I’m dead meat. Grim continues eyeing me, amused. Well, if push comes to shove, Grim will be getting himself intimately acquainted with my clothing.
“Ernest, please—” I whisper, then clamp my mouth shut. What do I say to him? Hide under my bed ’til the coast is clear?
The amusement in his eyes vanishes, replaced by a scowl. “No need to dance around me, Ana. Calm down.” I huff inwardly at his pacifying tone.
As if I’m overacting.
Footsteps halt outside my door. Mom’s voice hikes, agitated. I catch words like “scream” and “okay.” Dad’s voice joins hers, soothing. I must have screamed when I saw Grim. Seconds later, shuffling feet move down the hall, followed by a door clicking shut.
Why was I worried? This is Grim. He’s capable of practically anything.
Grim jerks a thumb towards the clock. “Best time to learn is when your mind is fresh. Time’s a wasting, Novice. Hop on the train.” His eyes slide up and down. “Wear something warm and comfortable. Two minutes.” He melts into thin air. I stare at the space where he was standing, mouth hanging open. The tack tack of rain on my window seems louder and more intense.
He said two minutes. Where are we going? Does the training involve a classroom and board? Do I need a notebook? What if… it involves the actual collection? I have so much I’d like to ask him.
For a second the thought of running away teases my mind. It’s appealing, but useless. Grim is supernatural royalty. He’d find me. Plus, he still has the four souls. I hop out of my pyjamas and grab a pair of faded blue jeans from the hook by the wall, a white T-shirt, and a green cable-knit sweater from my wardrobe. Moments later Grim returns, a breeze surrounding him. The flaps of his trench coat flutter around him, and before they settle, I catch a glimpse of what looks like thousands of tiny lights with different colours glowing inside. He draws the flaps together. My head snaps back to meet his eyes.
Before I can ask what those things are, he raises his hand, halting me with a cryptic “later” and holds his hand to me, palm up.
After pulling my hair into a knot and securing it with a hair band, I stand beside him. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it bobs right back up. Smiling faces of Mom, Dad, Anton, and Lucy flash inside my mind. They’re here, breathing, alive. Because of Grim.
I bite the side of my lower lip “What if my parents or Anton or Lucy happen to stop by? How do we leave the house?”
“No one will come to your room. I made sure of that. And leave the travelling to me.”
“What did you do to them?”
“Nothing, Novice. Nothing at all. I just made sure they’ll sleep until I return you.” He holds out his hand towards me. “Come. Time waits for no man. And neither do souls.”
I uncurl my hand and place it on his cool one. His skin is not unpleasant, just different.
In seconds or minutes, I’ll be face to face with… death. Dead people. Someone’s child. A mother. A father. A brother. I squeeze my eyes shut, taking deep breaths.
Thirteen months and my family’s souls will be off the hook.
“Ready?” Grim asks.
I nod, and open my eyes. The air around us shifts and the room spins. Seconds later, the world around us settles.
Once my stomach calms down, I scan my surroundings. We’re in a hallway lit by fluorescent lights and flanked by peach walls. Antiseptic scent swathes and clings around my senses. The sharp rhythmic beepof monitors puncture the silent air. Voices drift from down the hall, which I guess is the nurses’ area. The squeak of un-oiled metal wheels grinding on linoleum floor joins the beeping sounds. My breath quickens and my heart hammers angrily inside my chest.
I glance up. “Room 302” printed neatly in orange on its white background stares back at me.
Without warning, Grim moves forwards as if the door is just air. Something we can go through. And we do. My body tenses, and I cringe, squeezing my eyes shut, anticipating hard wood crashing around me. When I open them again, we’re standing on the other side of the door. I inhale to slow my pounding heart. A completely useless attempt.
The room is dark, save for the hallway light seeping through the small glass window above the door. The beeping of the monitors is louder in here.
I squint, taking in the small room, then suddenly realise everything seems brighter. As if I’m viewing the room in daylight. Two beds stand next to each other. The white dotted curtains on the window are drawn together, probably to keep the light out. On the bed by the window, I catch a head full of white hair. On the next a balding head. Both are hooked up to monitors. The walls are white and bare, save for one tiny portrait at the front of the room.
Grim tugs my hand, and I drag my feet forwards to the bed next to the window. On closer look, I see an oxygen mask around the woman’s face. A frail, pale hand snakes out from under the striped bedcovers and lifts the mask off. It’s one of the kindest, sweetest faces I’ve ever seen, other than my grandmother’s. She smiles, her eyes trailing us as we halt beside the metal bed.
She can see us. How can she see us? I thought Grim did something to make us invisible.
My gaze quickly wanders to the next bed. The monitor’s rhythm is constant. I switch my gaze to look at the woman, unable to move any part of my body as she extends the other hand to Grim. She seems to be around eighty years old, but I can’t be sure. Right now her face is softened by a peaceful smile, making her look younger.
Grim drops my hand, and everything around me turns dark. I blink several times to focus. Finally when I do, the lady’s hand is on Grim’s cheek. They seem to be having a silent conversation. The scene is so intense I feel as if I should step out of the room to give them privacy.
I blink. The next minute, something that resembles mist, but more solid and a light shade of crimson, dances towards Grim. Just like what I saw during my family’s accident. It hovers above his hand and glides gently into what looks like a vial curved like the number eight. He opens his trench, tucks the vial inside, and releases the flaps. Whatever that was, he has a trench coat full of them. I saw them in my room.
I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as what I just witnessed between Grim and the elderly lady. Indescribable. I wipe my cheeks with the back of my sweater.
Suddenly the room fills with insistent beeping. The monitor indicates a flat, straight line. The doors burst open. Two nurses dash towards us as if they don’t recognise we’re in the room. I suck in a breath and wait for the impact.
MY EYES POP OPEN just as the nurses dash through me and towards the bed, leaving my body tingling. I double over, gulping air. That was the most uncomfortable feeling ever. I hope I never experience it again. The nurse with the pear figure rushes to the monitor and starts punching buttons; the other rounds the bed and places a finger on the elderly woman’s wrist to check for a pulse. God, I don’t think I can do this.
Grim saunters towards me. Without a word, he clasps my hand, and once again I’m overwhelmed by brightness. I blink, and we’re standing inside a cavernous room, dimly lit with what looks like sconces high up on the walls. The room is empty save for what looks like a gigantic cylindrical, tinted brown glass dome in the middle of the room.
“We are in the west wing of my castle,” Grim says, walking over to the dome. “This room is specifically for soul transfers. Come.”
“Your castle?”
He halts to look at me, then nods. “Where I live?” Grim lives in a castle? He frowns at me. “You didn’t think I lived in some ghastly underworld, did you? I am very unimpressed with how humans portray me. Cloaks, skulls, scythes… thinking about it is gruelling!” My face heats up knowing I’m one of those humans. He spins on his heel in a flurry of
trench coat flaps scowling, leaving me writhing in guilt.
The doors to the dome slide upward. Once we enter, they slide back in place. The room is warm, softly illuminated by a multitude of colours from the tiny glass vials arranged in racks—almost like wine racks—on the floor-to-ceiling shelves. When the colours shift and hit the glass interior of the dome, it reminds me of a mosaic.
Grim walks to one of the rows on my right. His fingers pluck the trench coat open, displaying an impressive amount of bottled souls, each with a different colour, snuggled inside tiny pockets. He removes them and places them inside empty racks. “Soul chamber, used for soul transfers and is done by Soul Collectors. The portal for the souls opens every day before dawn for only one minute. It is important to make sure your day’s collections are assembled here. Without fail. If the soul’s departure to the other side is delayed, they are no longer pure. The soul vial can only hold its contents for a maximum of twenty-four hours.”
I nod and swallow, too overwhelmed by everything to speak a word. Not pure. It sounds so sad for a soul to miss crossing over. I’ll have to keep that in mind.
After the soul transfer, Grim ghosts—that is what I’m calling it—us out of the room and back to a familiar stone-wall room. I glance around. The souvenir shop on my right is closed until later on during the day. Barred windows on my left and right display the sprawling city of Vienna as far as the eye can see. The night sky fades, replaced by grey, then light blue with white, cottony clouds. The sky is lighter on the east, as the sun’s rays push the night away.
I feel as if my heart is bursting. Grim brought me to my favourite place in the whole world. Inside the Watchman Chamber at Stephansdom Cathedral. How did he know? Is this his favourite, too?
I turn to face him. He leans his shoulder on the wall, a small smile on his lips. I didn’t even feel him slip his hand from mine “I know everything about you, Ana. Every little thing about you.” I shift from one foot to the other, flipping those words around in my head.
Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1) Page 5