I run to catch up. “So, we’ve established you’re not my PE teacher. Who are you?”
“Why am I not surprised at your stubbornness?” he mutters under his breath, then sighs heavily. “I’m your mentor.”
My jogging ups to a full gallop as he heads for the glass lift. “Mentor?”
“Remember the student I mentioned? The one who made my teaching life hell?”
I blink at him. “You were my teacher?”
He nods. We halt at the glass lift. After he places his palm on the glass wall, it slides open and snaps shut once we are piled inside.
“This is too much information at one go, Ana. I need you to take this one day at a time. We do not want to risk information overload.”
“I can handle it. I don’t understand, though. Why do you bow to me?”
He looks at me as though debating if he should answer. “I pledged my loyalty to serve you and the emperor’s son.”
“Speaking of the emperor’s son, where is he? Who is he?”
“I pledged to serve you, not to get bombarded with questions, oh stubborn one.”
Moments later, we’re standing in the hallway leading to the dining halls in Grim’s castle. Schulz turns to me. “Not a word about this to anyone.”
“So, Densys is your other name?”
He glares at me and stalks away the way we came. I’m too tired to feel any wisp of victory, so I head inside the dining hallway in search of Zig.
***
Tuesday four p.m. finds me buttoning costumes and trying to get my music group ready for the concert. I try to let their excitement wash over me, but it doesn’t help. I’m tense, and every few minutes, my eyes dart to the seat I have reserved for Rolf. It’s still unoccupied.
Last night when I got home from Grim’s castle, I texted Rolf to call me in the morning. He never did. I’ve been going over my conversation with Schulz and really want to talk to Rolf. “Mama! Mama!” The shriek snaps me back to the changing room. The girl twirls for her mother showing off her tutu. The two mothers helping me with the children are a godsend.
Twenty minutes later the kids spill on the stage, with violins and flutes in hand. My eyes flit over the seats. Mom and Lucy are in the third row. Rolf hasn’t arrived yet.
The door to the auditorium flings open, and my heartbeat quickens. Only it isn’t Rolf. Kimdane? The Kimdane? What is he doing here? Man, I can’t wait to share this with Reiner, Rolf, and Lea. My stomach clenches. Reiner and I aren’t talking, Rolf is MIA, and Lea, well she’s too far. Kimdane lifts a hand and waves. I raise mine to wave, only to hear Dominik, one of my students, squeal. He leaps off the stage and bounds down the stairs to the door. His sister places her violin on her seat and flies after her brother. Giggling fills the room as they join in what looks like a hug party. Great, the mountain biker is stealing my thunder. Dominik and his sister, return, grinning widely. “That’s our brother,” Dominik says.
“Good.” I motion them back to their places on the line, behind the music sheet stands. I peek at Kimdane again in all his tall, tousled hair glory. No resemblance there.
A look to where Mom’s sitting confirms Rolf hasn’t arrived. Once I gather enough strength to manage a smile, I turn to the children with their eager smiles and gleaming eyes and start the concert.
***
Two days after the concert, while rearranging my closet, I look out the window. My pulse races, watching Rolf pull up in front of our house. I rush downstairs, fling the door open, and suck in a breath. He seems to have aged twenty years. His grey eyes are pale. The buttons of his white polo shirt are buttoned wrong.
“Rolf? Oh my God, what happened to you?” I pull him through the front door and wrinkle my nose. When did he last shower?
He staggers forwards before grabbing onto the wall to steady himself. He pulls his arm away and straightens.
“Is everything okay?” I reach for him, but he flinches, jerking back and swiping his hair, which looks greasy and sweaty. His eyes dart nervously over his shoulder as if he’s being chased. “I need to talk to you.” I look at the clock perched on the living room wall. Mom will be home in less than twenty minutes.
“Come on, let’s talk upstairs.” My hand grips the rail to stop myself from touching him.
I rummage through my wardrobe and pull an old T-shirt that belonged to my dad and is big enough to fit his broad shoulders. As he yanks the wrinkled shirt off his body, I catch a glimpse of his ribs, straining beneath his skin, and his concave belly. When did he last eat?
He moves away to lean on the wall next to the door and averts his eyes.
“I’M LEAVING,” he says. “I can’t do this to you, Engel.”
“I thought—wait, what do you mean you can’t do this to me?”
“I can’t be with you. Not any longer.”
My knees buckle. “What?”
He paces to the window, a fist pressed on his forehead. “It’s getting worse. The voices. If I stay, I’ll kill you.”
“But, you said I could save you. I want to save you, Ro.” He gave me the damn bracelet. He said I was the only one who could save him.
He shakes his head. “I’m beyond saving.” His body twitches as if he’s having a seizure. I hurry towards him, but he lifts his head, halting me with a look. His lips curl into a sneer. “You can’t save what you don’t know.”
“I know you, Ro. You and I—” My pulse races. “You and I are… one.”
“You and I? You’re human.” His laugh is cold, mocking. “Don’t be ridiculous.” My heart sinks. The scary Rolf has come out to play. He circles me, and I mirror his steps.
“Stop it, Ro. I know you’re in there somewhere. And the Rolf I know wouldn’t say those things to me.”
“It’s me all right, darling.”
“No, it’s not! News flash, I don’t like the new you.”
He moves fast, a growl erupting from his lips. “No one speaks to me in that tone. No. One.” Before I can move, his fingers are wrapped around my neck and my feet are dangling under me. I kick my legs, hitting his thighs. He doesn’t budge. I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t get air in my lungs. I can’t breathe.
His fingers twitch, and the force around my neck loosens. I open my eyes. He squeezes his shut, shaking his head. When he opens his eyes, they’re warm, grey, and confused.
“Ana?” He looks at the hand around my neck and wrenches it back, as though my very skin scalds him. I slide and crumple to the floor, wheezing.
He stumbles back, dropping to his knees, arms dangling at his sides. “What have I done?”
“Ro,” I croak. “I can help you.” I pull myself on my knees, trying to crawl forwards. He has to listen to me. If what Schulz said is true…
He crawls away from my touch. “You can’t. I almost killed you. The voice—as long as we’re together, it won’t let me go.”
“Look at me. Listen to me!” I hate the desperation plaguing me. “Please.”
He blinks.
I try to look him in the eye, but my throat and lungs burn. I hunch forwards, swallowing air. “I can help you. I know what you are. You understand?”
He stares at me, his lower lip between his teeth. “I’m leaving. Understand this, Engel. I want you safe. Even if it means me leaving you.” He pushes himself to his feet.
“Don’t walk away, Ro.” He digs his fingers into his hair, and slides on the floor beside me. My pulse flutters. This is good. At least he’s here, close to me. A sliver of fear darts through my heart. I shake it off. If he senses my fear, he’ll bolt.
Rolf touches his forehead to mine, his ragged breath on my face. “I can’t… Engel.” He intertwines our fingers. “I cannot not have you in my life. But I’d rather have you safe than lose you.” One hand leaves mine, and his fingers flutter along my jaw. His gaze follows his hand, and he shudders. “I’m not good for you.”
I swallow the sour taste rising up my throat. The action sets off pain. It’s not only my throat that’s bruised. My heart
is bleeding inside out. “You are good for me. We’re good together.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
I wrench my face from his hands and hobble towards the window. I won’t let him see my tears. I bite my lip to stop the sob lodged in my throat. God, this hurts so bad, but the attempt to squelch the tears is useless.
A pair of strong hands grips my shoulders and spins me around. I open my mouth to speak, but I freeze, immobilized by the force, the power of those ten fingers pressing into my skin to the point of pain. Rolf snakes his arm around my waist, yanks me to his hard body, and buries his head in the crook of my neck. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I hurt you. I’m sorry I can’t let you go. I’m sorry I have to. My heart feels like crap.” Frantic fingers tremble as they skate on my back and stomach. “I’m sorry.”
I snap into action. My hands tangle in his hair, touching his face. “Then don’t.”
Rolf kisses me, and my body melts to his touch as always. My knees buckle at the sheer force of him, his lips, the kiss, the anger and love coursing through my veins. Soon we’re on our knees, him pushing me on my back. When the tip of his tongue caresses the seam of my lips, I open to him and it’s a battle of tongues and limbs and hands.
The kiss is fast. It’s furious. It’s unstoppable. I’m surrounded by Rolf’s sandalwood scent. I’m floating. I’m air. I’m fire. He pulls me closer, any closer and I’m sure we’ll burn into each other’s skin for eternity.
Then the kiss changes, the pacing slower, more sensual. His lips leave mine, trailing my jaw. He pulls back too soon. “You have to understand, Engel. I can’t.” He untangles himself, and presses his lips to my temple, turns, and stumbles out of my room. The whole house trembles as the front door bangs shut.
I dash to the window. Rolf stalks out the wrought iron gate, hands pocketed in his jeans. He seems to have difficulty inserting the key, but finally he unlocks his car and slips into the driver’s seat. He lifts his fists and pummels the steering wheel. The horn blares several times, echoing down the street. Rolf drops his head on the wheel, shoulders shaking. Seconds later he slams the door shut, starts the car, and peels out of the parking spot. He doesn’t look back.
I curl in bed, afraid to fall asleep. Maybe Rolf will realise it was a mistake and come back. I wouldn’t want him to find I’ve dozed off.
A knock on the door. “Ana, are you in there?”
“Just a minute, Mom.” I bolt from the bed, swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, and comb my hair with my fingers. Mom must have arrived before Rolf left.
The door clicks open, and Mom’s head ducks around it. At the exact time a ping sounds in my head. Collection instructions. Grey soul. Forty-seven years, Hermannsweg 7th district—
“Ana?” She hurries to my side, frowning. The ping goes off again. “I saw Rolf. What happened?” Why does she have to dig around while I’m trying to compose myself enough to do a collection?
“Just a spat. We’ll be fine.” I bite my cheek to stop the pain splitting my heart in two.
She ducks her head to catch my gaze. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I should go, but I don’t want Mom getting suspicious about my quick exit.
She pulls me in for a hug. “I promised to give you space to deal with things like you asked me to, but now, I’m putting my foot down. I need to know what’s going on.”
What part of “going on” would be suitable? None, I guess.
“I think Rolf and I are—it’s over.”
She sighs. “It might not feel like it right now, but life has a way of sorting itself out.” She holds me at arm’s length. “You’re young, Ana. You’ve yet to meet someone who will make your heart beat to his own rhythm. Whose air will be your air.”
This time the instructions flicker in red. I pull back hastily. “I’d like to go for a walk. Can we talk later?”
“Sure.” She traces a thumb over my cheek.
The instructions flicker at an alarming rate, making my head spin. On impulse, I give Mom a quick hug and kiss on her cheek.
She stares at me wide-eyed, then smiles. “I love you, Silvana. You’ll be fine.”
Right now, I’m not so confident. “Love you too, Mom.” I grab my rucksack and dash out of the room.
Once outside, I swipe again at my face and push the thoughts from my mind. I glance around before concealing and shifting to the collection site. I reread the instructions, while slipping my trench on, and my stomach twists. My collection is an accident scene.
A freaking accident scene!
My breath spurts out as images of crushed metal and broken glass flit inside my head.
Seconds later, I enter the collection scene in Hermannsweg, shivering from the sudden drop in temperature too cold for June. I choke as the smell of burnt rubber slams into me. On my right are skid marks, leading to a dismantled motorcycle sprawled on the tarmac. Blood darkens the street’s black surface of the road. I bite my fist to stop from shrieking, fighting the images of weeks ago as they leap into my mind.
I turn to my left, towards a crowd of onlookers, in search of my client. A car blocks the only entrance leading to the alley. I crouch and spring, leaping over the crowd and landing noiselessly on top of the car. A woman sits a few feet from the car, head on her knees, weeping. Sobbing filters from under my feet, and I realise someone is trapped inside. The car sways as two men attempt to yank the doors open. I peek through the jagged hole on the windshield. The driver’s seat is empty, but on the passenger seat a man is trapped under the safety belt. His soul still burns strong.
I hop down from the car, looking for a flickering soul. There’s no sign of the fire brigade yet. The temperature plunges lower, causing my breath to swirl in puffs of air. Clouds, resembling raven wings, cloak the sky. Lightning bursts across the sky, leaving the odour of blown fuse in the air. Someone screams. Heads swing up. Faces freeze, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. Then chaos explodes in the alley. Above me, dark grey clouds loom—or what looks like clouds—darkening by the second. Out of nowhere, hailstones pummel the ground, scattering the crowd completely.
I gape at the dark cloud from hell. My heart doubles its beating, as memory throws images of a few weeks ago, when I first saw something similar to this. A chill brushes my neck and legs.
Soul Snatchers. My equalizers.
Crap! Crap! Crap! Today is my worst day ever!
I WHIRL AROUND. I can’t see it. The soul I’m supposed to collect is nowhere in sight.
The cloud descends as swiftly as the temperature plunges. It splits into six formless bodies, zeroing in on me. My fingers fumble inside the side-pocket of my rucksack for my dagger. I can’t find it! They swoop once again. I twist my body and duck, my heart lodged in my throat. Grim’s words about Hostiles and Snatchers always on the lookout for an immortal body dig in my mind. Finally, my clammy fingers wrap around the leather sheath and yank the knife out. As I lift my hand, my legs tangle on something—I think on each other—and I collapse, swinging the dagger in a wobbly arc. The air hisses as the bright edge of it grazes one form. It backs away, and just when it looks like it will attack again, it hovers, veers, and floats to join the others. Then I see why it abandoned me. The body I was searching for lies a few feet from me. Its grey soul colour flickers, and then burns brighter. I struggle to my feet and sprint forwards. As if on command, the soul ascends, drawn to the Snatchers. Its desperation to join them is so thick it cloaks around my skin. Grim mentioned that grey souls are troubled and bound to be attracted by darkness. The Snatchers assemble into one massive form, envelop the soul, and rise to the sky where they vanish. The temperature returns to normal. The clouds part and dissolve.
My knees give way. No! This wasn’t supposed to happen. The soul was snatched on my watch. I snap my mobile from my pocket and speed dial.
“Lovely Ana, thinking about—”
“Zig, I need help.”
“Well, okay. Let’s get the serious business out of th
e way so we can go to flirting.”
“Please, Zig. Not now. I—I messed up.” My voice shakes. I press a hand to my lips and shut my eyes. “Can you meet me later, after your shift?”
There’s a moment of silence. “Sure, Ana. Ten o’clock at the Cathedral?” His voice is no longer teasing.
I relax. “Yes. Thank you, Zig.”
“Hold tight, lovely Ana.” This time the endearment is from concern.
I end the call and watch as two personnel from the ambulance place the body in a gurney bag. I’ve lost a soul to the Snatchers. I should have been there on time. What will Grim say?
I tuck the dagger inside the rucksack, and shift to the Cathedral. A few hours later, I still haven’t gathered enough courage to tell Grim I lost a soul. Zig arrives, looking me up and down. “I see you’ve been rolling in dirt. Tell me, what’s gotten your little heart troubled, Ana? Grim has taken over nightshift. I have all the time in the world for you.”
I look down to see a patch of dirt mixed with blood on my jeans. My body shudders at the memory of what happened earlier. “Is there a way I can retrieve a soul back? I mean…” Zig looks at me expectantly. “I lost a soul to the Snatchers.”
He inhales sharply. “Come on. Fill me in on the details on the way.”
“Where are we going?”
“To someone who can help.”
“You don’t need to do this,” I say touching his arm. “I just need you to tell me how to go about retrieving it.”
He smiles and clasps his hand to mine. “And miss the adventure? Think again, lovely. Does Ernest know about this?” He gives me a sidelong glance. “Ana, did Ernest allow you to go? To Mirrorlands? To Sinteler’s domain?”
I drop my gaze to the ground and say quietly, “He doesn’t know.”
He lets go of my hand and crosses his arms on his chest, scowling. “Then we are not going anywhere.”
“You’re not going, but I am,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “I messed up. I lost that soul to the Snatchers. I’m going to retrieve it.”
He rakes a hand through his hair and starts to pace. “It’s only one soul. One mistake.”
Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1) Page 24