Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1)

by Cecilia Robert

  “We’ll take care of each other, okay? I asked for your help, and I’m not going to risk anything happening to you.”

  “Ah, at last. She loves me.” Zig slaps a hand on his chest.

  “You’ve grown on me, Zig.” I smile and look away.

  “Give me a few days. I’ll make sure you forget lover boy.”

  Pain slashes my heart in ribbons. For just a few moments I’d actually managed to put aside what happened with Rolf. Now it’s back, tearing my insides to shreds. I blink several times to clear my sight, then slip my hand into Zig’s as shadows dance ahead of us. “Let’s do this and go home.”

  “I’m sorry to bring him up.” He gives my hand a light squeeze.

  I wipe my eyes with the cloak, glad the room is dimly lit. “I’m fine.”

  “If you weren’t trying to strangle my hand and your eyes weren’t taking over the rest of your face, I’d believe you.” He gives my hand a light squeeze.

  Walking down the hallway, we freeze, as metal clangs in the distance. The air around us quivers, and the ground beneath our feet trembles. Zig winces, glancing at my fingers digging into his palm. Red sparks of light flicker in a distance, then disappear, and in that moment, I see mirrors on both sides of the walls. The air grows heavier. Zig seems to have stopped breathing altogether. I peek up at him to find blue eyes glowing in the dark room, darting left and right.

  Great. This makes two scared rabbits sniffing around the lion’s den. Where has my protector gone?

  “Something is heading this way.” He yanks my hand, darts to the wall, and throws himself in front of me.

  The air around us presses closer. The temperature plunges. I lock my teeth to stop them from chattering. Zig’s arms tighten around me, but I can’t seem to get warm.

  Then the temperature climbs a little, and the air relaxes. I can breathe. Stale air, with a rotten egg stench.

  Zig drops his hands from my shoulders. “You okay?”

  I nod, then shake my head. “What was that?”

  “If I’m not wrong, the Tarnished, Sinteler’s guards.” He wipes his forehead with the sleeve of his trench, and drops to a crouch, chest heaving. “I thought they’d sense us.”

  I squat beside him and peer into his suddenly pale face. “You don’t look good.”

  He inhales. “I’ll be fine in a second. I just need to breathe. The bastards drained my energy.” When he finally straightens, colour has returned to his face. The smug grin is back. “I’m good.”

  “What exactly did you do?”

  “Shielded us. Usually it isn’t so draining, but the suckers have a gift for draining energy off anything. They sensed it when I created that bubble to shield us and attacked.” He tugs me down the hall.

  “Tarnished.” The word is sour on my tongue.

  “Yes. Once again, Sinteler’s brilliance shines through. From what I heard, the Tarnished are souls that belonged to soldiers. Mercenaries. He only has to train them to absorb energy, and bam! Nothing can touch them. Do you have your dagger?”

  I nod, patting my rucksack.

  “Good. That’s the only thing that can kill them. Snatchers, Tarnished, anything as long as it’s soul related.”

  Keeping conversation to a minimum, we walk for what feels like forever, keeping an eye on movement and listening for sounds. The air grows heavier and colder. In between, we make stops to mark the walls. Shadows shift inside the mirrors on the wall. We reach the end of the hallway, and walk into a massive circular room, branching into six paths. They all look similar. Zig tilts his head, pointing to the path in the middle. Since he’s all magic and can sense stuff, I trudge after him. The farther in we go, the tenser Zig’s body gets, and mine follows suit.

  I clear my throat, which echoes through the hallway filled with mirrors. He shoots me a startled look. “You and Kian seem to have an interesting history, huh?”

  His jaw hardens. “That’s one topic I’m not touching.”

  After my shattered attempt at conversation, which seems to have brought Zig’s brooding back with a bang, I press my mouth shut and let my mind wander to other things. Lea in Florence. The last time I spoke to her, she sounded really happy doing what she does best: explaining about portraits and stuff. Maybe I can visit her. As long as Rein won’t be there. I’m not ready to forgive him.

  “Not to dance and party in the wake of your recent heartbreak, lovely, but Ernest will be ecstatic when he finds out you broke up with lover boy. Definitely redouble his efforts.”

  “Efforts?”

  “Yeah, with your dinner escorts?”

  I shake my head. “It’s comforting to know someone will have fun at my expense.”

  “Consider me your knight in shining armour.” He flashes a smile. “I will rescue you.”

  I roll my eyes. “How chivalrous of you.”

  The hallway spills into another circular room, which diverges into three identical paths. Still the place is quiet, giving no indication of life. Shouldn’t the Tarnished guards be doing their rounds?

  Zig shifts on his feet. “Which one of these does your womanly senses point to?” His voice is teasing. I hear the slight note of nervousness beneath it.

  I wrinkle my nose. “I can’t believe you just said ‘womanly senses’. But you are Methuselah old. Shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

  “Smart mouth.”

  “Flirt,” I retort, glad to be tossing words around, if only to keep myself from running back where we just came from.

  The decision is made for us when low murmurs carry through the air from the path on our right. Probably one we should avoid.

  “Do you hear that?”

  Zig nods, eyes trained on the path the voices came from.

  “We should take that one.” I pull him in another direction. Holding hands feels so kindergarten. I can’t remember the last time I held hands with someone for longer than ten minutes—other than my best friends and boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Quickly I shove those thoughts away. This isn’t the time or place.

  Zig pauses to take out the pouch containing the dust and marks the trail.

  This path, which is actually a room of sorts, isn’t as wide as the hallway we came in, but it’s about thirty feet high, lit by sconces. Shelves are mounted on the wall next to the mirrors. About ten steps into the room, the use of the shelves becomes clear. Vials of different sizes and colours rest on them.

  I slip my hand from Zig’s and inch closer, eyes glued on the vials, labelled in a slant, neat handwriting in chronological order of century, year, month, date, and hour. Peering closer, I realise they’re all empty. Something writhes in the mirror. I lean forwards, my nose almost touching the shelf in front of me. Mist-like grey, nearly translucent, forms swirl in its confines. Even after Zig told me what Sinteler does with souls, I’m not prepared for the real thing.

  “Dear God, Zig, come take a look at this.” I glance over my shoulder to find Zig staring wide-eyed, mouth hanging open at the shelves opposite where I stand. As if the souls can sense us, the wailing becomes louder and they thrash faster.

  “DEFINITELY THE RIGHT PLACE. Let’s get what we came for and get the hell out of here.” Zig snatches my arm, hurrying us down the hall. I wince as his steel-grip bites through the layers of clothing and right into my bones. “Sorry.”

  I’m not sure whether to worry or be happy. For all I know, this could be a trap.

  We dash past a section marked “Eighteenth century”. I snatch my arm, pulling us to a stop. My breath sawing in and out of my chest is the only sound filling the room. “No soul deserves this. We’ve got to—”

  Zig rounds on me, blue eyes blazing. “Listen, Ana, I know the injustice. Right back there, I saw cats, dogs… souls that have done no wrong to anyone. Don’t you think I want to save them? But it’s not possible.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re no longer pure. Sinteler has done a number on them. They’ve been trapped inside those mirrors for centuries. There are over a million s
ouls here. If we set them free, it’s goodbye to whatever little peace is left in this world and hello apocalypse.” He runs a hand over his face. “Even if we rescue the soul we came for, there is no guarantee it’s still pure. So unless you know some sort of spell to reverse all these—” He sweeps a hand to encompass the room. “—I suggest we take what we came for and run.”

  I shake my head. There’s always a solution. Spells can be reversed. I could talk to Bastian about it later on. I follow Zig. The farther we go, the louder the moaning. Even the writhing in the mirrors has doubled in vigour.

  We halt in front of June 15. I breathe out, relieved. The grey soul swirls inside the bottle. Without waiting, I snatch the vial and tuck it snugly inside my bra.

  “Lucky soul.”

  I roll my eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

  A chill slithers along the nape of my neck, freezing me mid-step. Above us, a black cloud hovers. Have they sensed us and are waiting to attack? I shiver goose bumps prickling my skin.

  Zig follows my gaze and sucks in a breath. “Tarnished. Get your dagger ready.”

  My shaky fingers retrieve it, holding it in front of me. The flame-like designs on the flat surface leap to life, gliding to the sharp tip.

  “Now we leave. Quietly.” His gaze drops to my feet and back to my face. “I could carry you if that would help us get out of here safely.”

  I glare at him. “I’ll try my best to tiptoe to your expectations.” I slip off my shoes and look up one more time. “Why isn’t it attacking us?”

  His breath tickles my face as he leans towards my ear. “I’m not sure. Better not startle it. Come.” He clutches my elbow, and I pad after him, glad for the warmth of his hand on my skin. At the intersection, we pause and look back. The cloud hasn’t moved from its place. I lean over and take huge gulps of air.

  “You tiptoe like a pro.” Zig places a hand on my shoulder. His face is beaded with sweat, despite his joking.

  “Glad you approve.” His soft laugh rebounds off the walls. I lift my hand up to silence him, my ears trained on the voices to our right.

  Zig joins me. “Want to take a look?” I nod and follow him down the corridor flanked by mirrors, but no shelves. Maybe we could learn something about Sinteler.

  I look over my shoulder at the stretch of space we have to go back to the portal. “Let’s make it fast.”

  I hug the wall, shadowing Zig. After about forty feet, the path pours into a cavernous room, a hallway of sorts. Huge candles are perched high on black metal holders, casting as little light as possible. On a raised podium in the centre of the room is a tall form with its back to us, head bowed, strong shoulders held confidently. I catch a glimpse of faces on wooden benches around the platform. Surprisingly, the room is full. I replace my dagger in the rucksack, tug Zig back, and point towards a crevice in the wall. We pack ourselves inside it and watch.

  The tall figure raises its head.

  “Sinteler,” Zig spits out. He sniffs the air and leans closer. “Frankincense, myrrh, and jasmine. He uses Frankincense and myrrh together for purification. Jasmine calms and revitalises.

  I crane my neck to get a good look. From what I can see, Sinteleter has short spiky hair, with a front cowlick, a sharp nose, strong jaw, and full lips. He speaks in an intimate, friendly voice—the same voice from the library. Crap, even I feel drawn to join.

  Sinteler raises his hands. Seconds later, a mist rises in the air, coiling and uncoiling to the movement of his fingers. He claps his hands once, and it freezes. Vapours swirl from a bowl on a slab of stone in front of him. A voice announces a number in a low gravelly voice. I press a fist to my mouth to stop a gasp. Pain shoots from my shoulders as Zig’s hand tightness around them.

  Humans.

  “An auction,” Zig says.

  Another voice doubles the previous price. The number rises as Sinteler continues chanting. The bidding soon becomes overly loud, vicious.

  Why do they need a soul? It’s not as if someone can have two of those in the body.

  I lean back to whisper in Sig’s ear. “Must be rich individuals.”

  “Sinteler has enough money. The price is the number of souls they will bring him in exchange for that particular one.”

  Bile swirls in my stomach. “How will they acquire so many souls to pay Sinteler?”

  “There are ways. War, hunger, the poor begging on the streets… the list is endless.”

  A voice speaks up, doubling the price, followed by low murmurs. When no one else bids for the soul, Sinteler announces, “Sold” then starts to murmur under his breath, twirling his fingers. The soul descends and slides inside the vial next to the frankincense. A lanky body detaches itself from the rows of attendees and strides forwards. Before taking the vial, Sinteler extends a pen and book, I assume to sign the agreement. The process starts over again.

  Zig turns me around the way we came. “We’ve seen enough. Let’s go.”

  “Gladly.” As we slink down the hall, a high-pitched wail slices through the air. I double over and slap both hands on my ears. It stops, and I straighten, looking for the source of the wail. Zig looks visibly shaken, sweat beading his forehead. His gaze darts over my shoulder, and the little colour on his face falls away.

  I swing around to find Sinteler facing us. A black, smoky cloud swirls at his feet and another at his sides. His eyes widen, then narrow at us.

  “Time to run.” Zig grabs my hand.

  My feet obey, but my mind screams, “We’re going to die!” The air fills with buzzing and pounding of feet. I glance back and see Sinteler behind us, his hands burning with what I can only say is a blazing lasso rope. The Tarnished glide above us in one massive cloud, dipping and rising.

  I push my legs faster. All I can think about is getting out of here, seeing my family, and never visiting this place again. I’m out of breath and panicking as something tangles my legs.

  “Zig, do something. The shield!”

  “I’m trying, I can’t. There are too many of them sucking my energy.”

  With my free hand, I yank my soul dagger from behind me at the same time Zig pulls his. We round a corner to the hallway. I twist around, swinging my arm in a wobbly arc. The effect is immediate. The air sizzles as the dagger connects with the smoke. I continue to swing at them. Something cold slides the length of my back and down my jeans. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know what it is. My hand slips from Zig’s, and my body crumbles to the floor, weightless. It feels as though it’s held prisoner with invisible ropes. A scream rips through my lips. Zig curses. Something blue flashes on his hand as he swings at the Tarnished. They disperse, filling the air with snake-like hissing. Trying to catch my breath, I stagger to my feet.

  Zig drops to his knees, sweat pouring down his face. “Are you hurt? Have any cuts?” His hands pat me all over.

  “Stupid children. Dabbling in works too big for your miniscule brains, stepping on grounds you know nothing about.”

  Zig and I jolt around at Sinteler’s voice. Zig freezes.

  I push myself to my feet and fight dizziness clouding my eyesight. More Tarnished have assembled, blocking our only way out. Suddenly Zig leaps in front of me, swaying on his feet. I try to move around him, but he pushes me back.

  “I dragged you into this,” I say, capturing his hand. “We do this together.”

  “Stay back, Ana!”

  “How noble of you, Siegfried,” Sinteler says with a drawl. He knows Zig’s name?

  “Come now, Ana Maria, do not be shy. You didn’t just drop by for a chat and tea, now did you?”

  The sudden urge to use the bathroom is immense. I move around Zig to face Sinteler. The lighting in the cavernous room didn’t do Sinteler justice. His jaw line is prominently strong. Deep-set grey eyes stare back at me, and I shiver at their intensity.

  Sinteler folds his hands in front of him. “Now that we are face to face, to what do I owe this pleasurable visit?”

  I swallow, my heart drumming fur
iously. He seems so friendly, and yet… I clear my throat. “It’s not his fault.”

  “Yes, Ana?”

  “That was my soul.” My voice comes out shaky. Zig’s grip tightens, and he shakes his head. I can’t stop the words from pouring out of my lips. “You had no right to it. You have no right to hold these souls hostage, enslave them.”

  He chuckles. “I have the same right as Ernest.”

  “In what dimen—”

  “On this one. And others. If you do not understand how everything works, learn before you open that pretty little mouth to speak.” He smiles, but I can’t ignore the underlying threat. He snaps his fingers and points to Zig. A horde of Tarnished souls lunge at him, caging him in.

  Sinteler strolls forwards, stopping centimetres from me. I shiver as his hand makes contact with my forehead. My hand tightens around the dagger’s smooth handle. It doesn’t infuse enough confidence to stop my trembling knees, though.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Ana, but that toy of a knife cannot hurt me.” His fingers tip my chin up, then slide to my temple. I’m glued on the spot, and I have no choice but to stare at the eyes burning into mine. “Give me the vial.” I force my eyes shut. What is he doing to me? It’s as though his fingers are inside my skull, digging through the pages of my brain. My eyes snap open, and I jerk back. His hand drops, palm up, the smile long gone. “The vial.”

  I count to ten and chant, “He doesn’t scare me.” But he does.

  “All right then. Your wish is my command.” He bows, snaps his fingers again, and walks away. The Tarnished swarm around me in dizzying speeds. I jab and slash with the dagger, but as soon as some vanish, others replace them. Zig’s scream tears through the air, and his dagger flashes blue in the dark haze.

  The pressure in the air abruptly eases. Warm air swathes me. My lungs burn as they try to accommodate the air rushing through my nose.

  “I’m feeling generous, so consider this your lucky day, Ana.” Sinteler’s says, but my eyes are too blurry to see anything. “I could finish you right now, but I need you. I will give you a little parting gift to remember me by.” He strides forwards, grabs my wrist, and slams me to his chest. The other hand grabs a chunk of my hair and yanks my head forwards until my scalp bristles. The other hand on my wrists lets go, disappears out of sight. When it swings back, I catch a glint of metal from the corner of my eye. I twist and scream, trying to unhitch his hold as the dagger disappears from my line of view. I feel a nick at the back of my neck, and something wedges itself in the cut, burrowing under my skin. He lets go of my hair. I clamp a hand on my neck, stumbling forwards and away from him.