Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1)

by Cecilia Robert

  Cool air brushes my skin when he says, “Good.”

  Lea and Reiner join us, looking extremely mellowed. Rolf insists on paying, and we join the queue.

  Ten minutes later, while seated inside a toboggan, my phone vibrates. I swipe the screen to answer.

  “Ana…” A muffled voice, followed by a groan.

  “Hello?” Another groan. Heavy breathing. Whimper. “Who’s this?” A sob bursts through the line.

  The guy helping me with the safety belt tugs to secure it around my waist, his eyebrows crinkled like the process is complicated. My heart whacks inside my chest. I motion for him to stop and leap out of the sled, ignoring his confused look. Rolf takes one look at my face and trots after me, with Lea and Reiner in tow.

  “Who’s this?” My hand shakes so bad I almost drop the mobile.

  “Big sis—” A rattling cough and winded breath. A sob.

  I’M HOT AND COLD AND NAUSEOUS. “Anton? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

  “Please… come…”

  I double over, clutching my stomach. “Where are you?” My knees are having a hard time supporting my body. Rolf slips his arm on my waist, and I’m glad. People turn to look, but Reiner and Lea block me.

  “I—blood… come.” His voice is fading.

  I need to calm down. “Stay with me, little bro. Tell me where you are.” My feet move, heading in the wrong direction. Rolf steers me towards his car.

  Anton mumbles something under his breath. I’m panicking, and I can’t understand what he’s saying. The mobile slips from my clammy hands. Rolf snatches it before it hits the ground. He speaks into the phone, while opening the passenger side door for me. He shuts it when I’m settled and dashes to his side of the car. The leather seats squish as Reiner and Lea scramble in the backseat.

  Anton. Blood and pain. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to remember how to breathe.

  Something cool touches my palm. My eyes flip open to find Rolf pressing the mobile in my hand. “He’s at St. Francis of Assisi Church on Mexikoplatz. Keep talking to him.” His jaw is clenched as he peels out of the parking lot, tyres squealing on the tarmac.

  “Talk to me, Anton, okay? I’m here.” Rolf swerves and whizzes past cars, running a red light in the process. I grab the edge of my seat with one hand and squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Don’t… don’t tell Mom.” Heavy pause. Groan. Sniffle. “Please.”

  “Shhh. It’s okay. I won’t. I promise.” His breathing sounds like it’s being sucked in a vacuum, like he’s choking on his own saliva.

  Then he contradicts himself. “I want Mom.” He must be really bad off.

  ***

  Twenty-five minutes later—which is a record considering the distance between the fourteenth and second district on a weekday at rush hour—we arrive in Mexikoplatz and park opposite St. Francis of Assisi Church. I’m out of the car before it stops, searching for Anton on the deserted street.

  Someone yells my name. I turn to see Rolf crouching in front of a crumpled form hidden by low hanging tree limbs. I change directions and fly to Anton’s side. I stretch my hand to touch his face but end up pressing a fist on my lips to stop myself from screaming.

  His face is already puffed-up in different places. Blood flows from gashes on his lip and nose.

  He whimpers, and my body unfreezes. I dig for tissues in my pockets. Nothing. I turn to the sound of fabric tearing. Rolf’s hands—having ripped his grey polo T-shirt off—shred it into ribbons. Without a word, he hands me two small pieces. I press them on the gashes. Rolf presses the bunched-up shirt onto Anton’s ribs. Anton shudders like his whole body is about to blow apart.

  I carefully cup his face with the other hand. “What happened?” He doesn’t open his eyes. Is he breathing? I shift to a crouch. “We need to get him to the hospital.”

  Rolf’s fingers close on mine. “Don’t move him. The ambulance is on the way.” I frown. When did he call them? He squeezes my hand. “We don’t know how much damage has been done.”

  I press my lips to Anton’s forehead before raising my head to see Lea, her face a reflection of what I’m feeling. She wipes her eyes and begins to talk to Anton about Italy and her horde of relatives. She promises him if he gets better, she’ll take him to a shop where they sell vintage Polaroid cameras like the one she saw from his collection of magazine articles. I think Anton’s lips twitch faintly.

  Beside her, Reiner, with one arm on Lea’s shoulder, looks like he’s about to throw up. His face is alarmingly pale. His eyes keep darting to Anton, then away, as if the mere sight of him is torture.

  I’m so close to breaking down. I can’t. No time to freak out. My throat feels swollen when I try to swallow. I lean on Rolf, absorbing the strength he offers me, and look at the church in its red roof tiled turret and Romanesque architecture splendour. So fairytale-like and cheery.

  I hate it. I hate the fact that my brother lies dying on its grounds. Holy grounds for goodness sake! Isn’t there a law about this? This is the soul I’ve been fighting to get off Grim’s hands. What if it’s his time to go? I haven’t had enough time with Anton since Grim brought them back.

  Anton’s red soul colour flickers, then glows along the edges of his body. God, I need you now. Keep him safe. I chant the words until the sounds of sirens pierce through my mind. It seems I’ve been praying a lot more lately than I have ever done in my life.

  A tall man with spectacles leaps out of the ambulance and strides purposefully with a kit in his hand, with two attendants pushing a stretcher following in tow. They work in coordination. Only a few minutes pass while they hunch over Anton, but it feels like hours. Finally, Anton is strapped on a stretcher and taken inside the ambulance. Rolf and I ride with him. Reiner and Lea follow the ambulance in Rolf’s car.

  “What happened? What was he doing there? He looks so… beat up. Who could have done this?” I shiver.

  Rolf pulls me close. I burrow into him. “We’ll know soon enough.”

  “Mom and Dad. I have to call them.”

  Mom answers on the second ring, and she freaks out. She hangs up to call Dad.

  ***

  The waiting room buzzes with voices and smells of vending machine coffee and cappuccino, mingled with antiseptic and antibiotics. The air is laden with desperate expectation. It feels as though Rolf and I have been sitting on the plastic chairs for centuries. Or maybe it’s just thirty minutes. Reiner and Lea left twenty minutes ago.

  The glass doors slide open. Mom and Lucy hurry in. Lucy’s eyes dart around the waiting room. Mom’s face is drawn in sharp lines around her lips and eyes.

  I dive into her open arms. Her breath trembles as she breathes out. “Where is he? What did the doctor say?” She looks calm, the complete opposite of how she sounded when I called her.

  “We’re still waiting.” My voice cracks at the words. Lucy’s lips tremble. She shouldn’t see me like this. I ease back onto my chair and pull Lucy to my lap. She curls her slender body around mine.

  Mom wanders off to look for someone to tell her about Anton’s situation.

  We sit and wait. It’s killing me.

  The glass doors swish open and closed. Someone screams from inside the doctor’s rooms ten feet away, making Lucy shudder in my arms. The speakers crackle, paging a Dr. Mahil. A nurse waddles by, pushing a cart filled with IV drips. Invisible tendrils of disinfectant and drugs drift up my nose.

  Mom returns to let us know that Anton is still in the operating room. Dad arrives. A web of lines bracket his downturned mouth and forehead. Immediately, he loosens his tie as if it’s choking him. Then we’re all hugging each other. Lucy begins to cry.

  Mom insists I take Lucy home, saying she and Dad will wait until Anton leaves the O.R. I don’t want to go. But Lucy’s shoulders are shaking so hard with sobs, and she’s sucking her thumb. That decides it for me.

  On the way home, Rolf stops at the McDonald’s drive-thru and orders a Happy Meal for Lucy and two chicken burgers for us. Once Lucy
receives her complimentary toy, she pulls her thumb out of her mouth and smiles slightly. And I love him so much for that. For the little things I never think about, but he does.

  Dad calls to tell us the surgery went well. The weight in my chest lifts, and I want to dance and cry at the same time.

  After eating our burgers and taking Lucy to bed, I switch on the TV, letting the pictures run with no volume, and join Rolf on the sofa. He slides his hands over my shoulder, pulls me close, and tucks my head under his chin.

  His chest rises and falls steadily as he runs his fingers up and down my arm. “Talk to me.”

  “I’m scared.” I burrow deeper into him. “I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. Did you see how badly he was hurt? I—I’m not sure what I’d have done if he—”

  “Shh. He didn’t. He’s fine now.” His arms are bands of comfort and warmth around me.

  I nod. “He is, thank God.” I breathe out the words. “You were like James Bond out there, Ro. My very own Double O Seven.”

  He chuckles. “Glad you approve of my Bond skills.” We laugh, and it feels fantastic. After a few heartbeats, he says, “You were great out there.” I was? I tip my head up to look at him. “I’ve never seen anyone as strong as you. You handled yourself pretty incredibly. Amazing.”

  The whole time I was freaking out, Rolf thought I was holding it together? That’s how he sees me. As strong. “Thank you.”

  He combs his fingers through my hair. “That doesn’t mean you should hold back. It’s just the two of us here.” He presses his lips to my hair. I bury my face in his chest and let it all out.

  Dad arrives home at eleven thirty p.m. According to the doctor’s diagnosis, Anton had a fractured rib, massive internal bleeding…

  My mind shuts down after that. The surgery was successful.

  What we don’t know is how he got his injuries.

  ***

  At four fifteen p.m., Friday after the orientation, I walk out the Conservatory doors, leaving a part of my heart inside those rooms. Even after talking to Schulz about giving up my dream, I could not resist. I had to be here. Even though I might never realise my dream. I still haven’t spoken to Mom and Dad about cancelling my classes.

  I stop on the sidewalk to turn my mobile back on. No calls from Rolf. He’s disappeared. Again. There’ve been no emails, and I couldn’t reach him by phone, either. Where is he? Working on that robot thing in his basement or in blackout mode?

  My mobile rings. I glimpse the number and sigh.

  “Hey, lovely Ana. Where are you?”

  I’m in no mood to wrangle words with him, so I say, “Leaving the Conservatory.” The call disconnects.

  Something drops to my right. I shriek and jump away. Not something. Someone.

  “Jesus, Zig! Are you insane? You could have hurt me, or anyone else.”

  Zig shrugs. “But I didn’t. It’s called precision.” He looks up.

  I follow his gaze, and my eyes widen. “Four storeys?”

  He nods, grinning proudly. “Today’s lesson. Plus, you need to practise shifting and concealment.”

  I shake my head and brush past him. “Not now. I’m visiting with Anton.”

  Since the incident, Zig seems to appear at convenient times to tagalong for a visit. He just observes concealed, satisfied to hang around with the rest of my family.

  Yesterday, Anton seemed slightly better. He could talk, but he wore out fast. Every time we quizzed him about what happened, he said he couldn’t remember. The police arrived to take his statement after the doctor called them. From their scowls when they left Anton’s room, they weren’t successful in prying any information. They said they’d return later. I sense Dad and Mom’s frustration as hours tick by.

  Zig takes my elbow and steers me to the Kärntner Strasse pedestrian shopping street and down towards the Vienna State Opera House. “Come on. You’ve turned into a dead-girl-walking since Anton’s accident. I promise it will be fun. Much more fun than Herr Schulz news.”

  I skirt around two opera tickets sellers dressed in Mozart costumes selling tickets to a group of elderly Chinese tourists. “Not today, Zig.” Two days ago, after I was done with freaking out about Herr Schulz announcement, I told Zig what went on in the library. The man wasn’t shocked. In fact, Zig seemed to find every opportunity to tease me about it.

  “Ernest plans to send you out soon,” Zig says.

  My stomach drops. I halt abruptly. “What? But I’m not ready!”

  He gapes at me. “You’ve had two weeks of practise. I was barely a week into the job when he sent me off to collect doves’ and cats’ souls. Literally shoved me off the nest’s edge. You’ll survive.”

  My mind rushes with options, excuses, but comes up with none. Maybe Grim would give me more time.

  Since my last training with Zig, I’ve practised in my room and late evenings when the parks were deserted. At least I managed to shift three out of the ten times. And Grim might send me out there? To collect souls?

  I pull Zig inside the Hotel Sacher Confectionery shop, famous for its traditional Sacher torte. Immediately, I’m blasted by the sight of dark chocolate cake and the scent of freshly brewed Viennese coffee, which reminds me of Sunday morning brunch at my house. My stomach grumbles mercilessly.

  “Feed that beast in there before it devours us all.” Zig jabs a finger at my belly.

  I laugh, and go back to ogling the cakes behind the glass display, picturing Anton smiling and gulping down the dark chocolate cake, apricot jam smeared on his lips. I dig out my savings, hand them to the lady behind the counter, and point at the smallest of the Sacher tortes. A few minutes later, Zig and I exit the shop and join the stream of pedestrians, strolling in and out of shops with bags in hand.

  At the corner of Kärntner Strasse and Opernring, we stop to wait for the lights to change. A tram zips by. My gaze automatically drifts to the Vienna State Opera House. This is where magic happens.

  When I was thirteen, our class visited the Opera House on an excursion. I remember walking through arched doorways and carpeted hallways, promising myself over and over that one day, this will be my dream.

  Funny how life changes, twisting and turning dreams inside out, wringing them dry.

  My stomach twists at the memory. I need to get out of here. Fast. I blink quickly, averting my gaze from Zig. Him seeing my face right now is the last thing I want.

  “So what do you say?” he asks, oblivious to my current state. The light changes, and we join the crowd of people crossing the street. “Join me?” I give him a sidelong glance. “Do you trust me?” he asks when I don’t answer his questions.

  “Would a deer trust a leopard to a cuddle?” I say, eyebrows raised.

  He narrows his eyes. “Which one am I? The leopard or the deer?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  He doesn’t miss a beat. “Completely.”

  I miss two beats. “Why? You hardly know me.”

  “I just do. Come on, an hour of pure fun won’t kill you.”

  I sigh. “Maybe later.” His shoulders sag. “Would you like to join me?”

  His eyes light up, giving him a boyish look. “Never thought you’d ask.” He takes my hand. In the next step, we shift to the hospital.

  “You’re reckless, you know that?” I say, placing a hand on the door of room 112. “Don’t you care that people notice when you disappear right before their eyes?”

  “They’ll have something to talk about.”

  I shake my head. “You could at least let me practise my shifting skills.”

  “Next time.”

  “Be good.”

  “Aren’t I always?” He grins.

  “Do you even know the meaning of that word?”

  He winks. “You’d be surprised.”

  I roll my eyes and walk inside the room. “Hey, little bro.”

  Anton’s head snaps up from the graphic novel on his lap. He blinks, eyes darting over my shoulder. I follow his gaze. No one is be
hind me. Zig is already perched on the windowsill. “Were you expecting someone else? A date maybe?” I place the cake on the bedside table and ruffle his dyed mohawk—hot red is the flavour of the week.

  “No.” He clears his throat. “Just you.”

  I nudge his legs aside and sit on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

  He tosses the book aside. “I want to go home. Could you talk to Mom and Dad?”

  “You scared us, Anton. I think you should stay a bit longer, just to make sure.”

  “I miss my bed. And food. Real food.”

  “Have they been feeding you stones?”

  He pouts, folding his arms over his chest. He’s quiet for a while before saying, “Do you know if Rein will visit?”

  “Not sure.” He bites his lip and shifts his weight on the bed. “Why?”

  “Just… it’s nothing. Where are Lea and Rolf, anyway?”

  “They’re busy.” Anton picks up his mobile beside his pillow, sighing. I watch him, my mind on Reiner. I haven’t seen much of Reiner, either. Even in class. Whenever I wanted to talk to him, he seemed in a hurry to leave. Maybe he’s already started his new job.

  Zig gestures from the window and mouths “Soul collecting” before disappearing.

  I turn back to Anton. “Looking forward to school, eh?”

  “Not really.”

  What’s wrong with the males in my life? My brother is sulking, Reiner is acting shifty, and Rolf, well, is spooking me out. I rub my face and chuckle quietly. If Rolf is spooky, what am I?

  Anton frowns. “Why are you laughing? I look funny, don’t I?” His fingers flit across the dark bruises on his face.

  “You look fine, grumpy.”

  Anton takes a deep breath. He winces and clutches his right side. “And you’ve been acting strange, weirdo.”

  I lick my lips and open my mouth to reply but stop at the sound of shuffling feet behind me. I turn around. “Oh hey, Rein. Grumps here has been asking for you.”

  Reiner hovers at the doorway, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and strolls inside the room. He smiles—or what looks like a smile. What’s with him?