Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1) (22 page)

I give up any hope of catching names and follow him with my eyes, not wanting to appear rude. Does he mean to introduce every single one of his guests? Seriously? I glance at the rows of tables and back at him, smiling as he does the introductions.

I glimpse a flash of teeth. Shark Teeth, and beside him Rikar. Why am I not surprised?

I pick up the glass of some fruity smelling liquid, bring it to my parched lips, then halt. My eyes widen at the next guest.

Isn’t that Accordion Guy? He waves gaily as if I’m a long lost friend.

Two seats down, my breath stops altogether. The glass slips from my fingers.

Zaynab’s lips seem to shiver in an attempt to smile. Herr Schuster pushes his spectacles and nods once. Frau Ivasec twiddles her thumbs, a serene smile on her face. Herr Schulz leans back in his seat, a scowl on his face.

I blink. The image is still there. My vision sways. My teachers? Here? What the hell is going on? I shake my head to clear my vision. This is too much. Zig’s face appears in my line of vision. His lips move, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. A buzzing fills my ears
.
I push back the blackness swooping at the edge of my vision.

Zig mouths something like, “Oh shit,” but I can’t be sure. I feel too hot. The room is growing smaller. I think my head is going to explode. I can’t breathe. Oh God, I need to breathe. I need to know what’s going on.

The cloud closes in as my head rolls forwards, my face aiming for the soup bowl.

I
OPEN MY EYES
and wish I hadn’t. Pain pulsates through my head, stirring up parts I didn’t even know existed. I flip my eyelids closed again, trying to remember why it feels like hooves have tap-danced on my skull. I move my hands on the surface I’m lying on, feeling the soft material draped over my body. Definitely not my crochet bedspread. The room smells different, and the bed is too springy.

I dig around my head. The dinner ball, the guests, my teachers. Zig mentioned the guests wore a Charm at Grim’s request. Maybe that was it. I almost giggle in relief, but freeze when harsh words spoken in hushed tones cut through the air.

“You were meant to keep her
from
them.” Schulz. He sounds angry. Fear replaces blood in my veins. What is
he
doing here?

“I did. We did. We tried our best.” Another voice, male and calm. Herr Schuster?

“And what a fantastic job you did. She practically glided into Sinteler’s greedy hands. He has been waiting for this chance for years.” Schulz again. His voice trembles, sounding harsher.

Silence descends, punctuated by tension so thick it’s hard to breathe.

I squint through half-open eyes. Disappointment rushes through me at the sight. Schuster, Zaynab, and Schulz stand at the door’s threshold. I’m certain there’s no Charm strong enough to mimic Schulz’s expression. He’s angry. The three of them are. Why? Who is Sinteler? Schulz seems terrified by him. What would he want with me? I itch to move my fingers, rub the throbbing spot on my forehead. If I do, they’ll realise I’m awake. I need to know what’s going on. I press my hands at my sides.

Someone inhales deeply. “You think she’s ready?” Schuster asks.

“She had better be, or else our efforts will be for naught. And we’ll end up where we started. Or worse.” Does Schulz ever stop sounding like an angry bear?

I’ve been holding my breath the entire time, and my lungs begin to burn from lack of air.

The air shifts beside me, a large hand covers mine, squeezing it. “You can open your eyes now, lovely Ana,” Zig whispers close to my ear. What’s he doing here? “Come on.” He presses my hand again.

My eyes fly open. I turn to him and wince as pain shoots inside my head at the sudden movement.

“Where am I?” My eyes dart the expanse of the unfamiliar room. White ceiling with deer motifs carved on it, what looks like purple damask wallpaper, dark curtains drawn over what I assume is the window, and finally… iron canopy bed decorated in lace curtains tied with sashes on the bedposts? My gaze quickly drops to Zig. I lift myself to sit, but he places a hand on my shoulder, pushing me to lie back down.

“Your room.” His voice is still low, as if he doesn’t want to draw attention to us.

I look around the room as far as my eyes can see lying down, then back at Zig. “At home?” I ask, even though I know this isn’t my bedroom at home. I’d really throw a tantrum if Mom and Dad changed my colour scheme. And deer?

“Afterworld.”

Oh.
That
room. Zig mentioned it a while back. I look up again, tracing the deer chasing each other on the ceiling. My throat feels parched, as if no liquid has touched it in years.

Zig looks over his shoulder, then back at me. He shoves a huge, black mug towards me. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.” I eye the mug’s rim. Some undulating murky green liquid. The odour slams into me, making me jerk my head away.

“Are you trying to kill me?” My voice reminds me of a frog’s. I clear my throat.

“You wouldn’t die even if I tried.”

Oh, yeah.
The immortality angle
. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“This will ease the pain. I could try to take the pain away, but you’re too weak,” he says. I continue to stare at the liquid. My stomach churns painfully at the thought of having the contents inside it. “It’s just some herbal potion. Levi made it.”

“No! I don’t trust him.”

“But you trust me, right?” I open my mouth to say “no” but he interrupts me. “He prepares these drinks all the time. Look, I’ll take a sip.” He screws his face as he makes an attempt to swallow the revolting liquid, then shudders and holds it away from his mouth. “Shit! It’s been a while since I had one of these.”

“Siegfried.” Grim’s voice sails from somewhere nearby in reprimand. He’s here? I didn’t hear his voice before.

“Sorry, Ernest.” Zig rolls his eyes, then mouths, “So sensitive.”

Another shot of pain thrashes inside my head. Right now I’d take anything just to get rid of the headache. I scoot up, prop myself on the numerous pillows on the headboard, take the mug from Zig, and sip. My eyes water, and I blink several times. It tastes like mud and dirty socks.

I let my eyes drift to the door, but Schulz’s round belly blocks it. I know they are talking about me, but what is it about?

Zig exhales and leans back on his chair, fingers linked behind his head. “Well, lovely, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Siegfried.” Grim’s voice cracks the air. Zig apologises again, drags a hand through his hair, and leans forwards.

“How’s your head?” His eyes drift to the bump on my forehead. “Wow, I’ve never seen anyone drown themselves in soup. Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to faint?” His tone falls between irritation and teasing.

I lean back on the pillows and glare at him. Lately Zig keeps finding me in different states of embarrassment. Turning away from him, I tilt my head and train my ears to the door to catch a few words. Whatever is going on, it involves me. I’m not going to lie here like a useless doll and let things happen. I place the mug on the nightstand and slip out of bed. Immediately my world spins, so I drop my head in my hands.

“Do you want to break your neck or something?” He snaps at me. “Stay put.”

“It’d help if someone told me what’s going on.” I try to swallow around my still parched throat.

“Would you believe me if I told you I have no idea?”

I lift my head and look at him. “You live with Grim. You two seem too chummy. He’s tangled in whatever is going on there. Would you blame me if I told you I don’t believe you?”

He studies me, then shakes his head. “I wouldn’t.” He rubs his earlobe, eyes diverted to the brown carpet with white swirls. “I was posted on this chair to keep an eye on you. I knew you were awake minutes ago, but I didn’t say anything.”

“You knew I was awake and listening the whole time? How? Why?”

“You stopped snoring. As for why, something’s going on. I don’t like it. I thought maybe you deserved to know as well. And they were talking about it.” He jerks his head towards the door. “The lady, I sensed magic traces, same as what I felt inside that flat in the seventh district. Is she the lady we visited?”

I nod. “Would you tell me if you knew the truth? About what’s going on?” He takes too long to answer, and just when I think he won’t answer at all, he nods.

If he can’t tell me, who would I ask? Schuster? Zaynab? They seem to be the lesser evils, but they never told me anything before. Would they now?

I need to get out of bed. My eyes focus on my attire and frown. “What am I wearing? What happened to my dress?”

Zig grins like he knows all my secrets. “Pyjamas.” His grin widens to display perfectly aligned teeth. “Oh come on. I’m just messing with you. I didn’t touch you. Zaynab did. Blink before your eyes fall off your face.”

I curl my hands, clench my jaw, and concentrate on the fluffy pyjamas. I look like a stuffed bear. In pink. I’m about to open my mouth when Grim and Schulz appear in my line of vision. I don’t see Schuster and Zaynab. Where did they go?

“I see you are doing well, Novice.” Grim tilts his head slightly, his lips stretched into a barely-there smile. “Your presence is needed in the library. Everything you need is inside the closet.” He points to my left at the floor-to-ceiling doors, then strolls out of the room. Schulz jerks his head at Zig. Zig scowls, pushes to his feet, and stretches his entire body like a cat, before walking out of the room without a word.

Why are they leaving? I shoot from the bed, ready to flee. Better the devil you know than the angel you don’t know. Zig is my devil. Schulz swings back to me, eyes pinning me in place. As usual they haven’t lost the power to do that. My eyes dart to the window. How far down would the jump be?

“Calm down. You’re always so emotional, Ana,” he says, as if it’s a bad thing. What happened to him calling me “Fräulein Tei”? He lifts the mug from the bedside table and shoves it at me. “Drink this. It will help you calm down.” I stare at it, my hands glued on the bed’s cover. He continues to stare. I stare back, even though I know I won’t win. Eventually I take the mug and clutch it in my hands. At least it steadies my trembling hands. “Drink it. Now. We need to discuss a few things, and you need to be less excited for it. I expect you in the library in ten minutes.” He stalks off. At the door, he turns, bows his head, and disappears.

It’s PE lesson all over again. Why does he have to be so commanding and angry? Does he expect me to just do what he says? And where is the library? What does he want to talk about? Wait… did he just
bow
to me? Maybe I’m imagining things. Maybe he was just looking at his feet or something.

***

I step into the hallway to find Zig leaning on the wall, hands tucked in his pockets, waiting. The headache has eased a bit. The bump on my forehead, however, feels like I’m sprouting another head.

Zig pushes himself off the wall. “Ready?”

I tug at my skirt I found inside one of the wardrobes in the room and nod. He turns and strides down the hallway, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. Eventually, I ask, “How far is it?” I feel as if we’ve been walking, turning corners, and walking again for a hundred years.

“Just a bit farther.”

I search inside my head for something to talk about to keep me from thinking about where we’re going. “So deer, eh?” Zig gives me a look of confusion. “On the ceiling. In the room.”

“Oh. Yes. Grim thought it would put you at ease, you know, when you live here.”

“I’m meant to
live
here?”

He shrugs. After a moment, he goes back to being preoccupied. I wish he’d tell me what he’s thinking.

A shadow flits along the wall to my right. A scream bubbles up my throat. I realise it’s the shadow from the dancing flames behind us. “Can’t we just shift there?”

“Ernest forbids it. He prefers normal.”

“You call this normal?” He doesn’t answer, just continues to rub his chin as we climb down a flight of winding stairs. “But we shift in and out of the castle when delivering souls for transfers.”

He mumbles, “Different case,” whatever that means, and retreats to his bubble. This is so unlike him and I don’t know how to handle him.

Finally, we halt outside the library door. I brace my hand on the doorframe, staring at the closed door. Zig looks at me, eyebrows pinched in concern. I can’t move. My heart sprints in my chest, snatching the little air left in my lungs.

“Go ahead,” I say. “I’ll be right behind you.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll wait.” There’s no smile in sight, no flirting.

“Your choice. You might end up waiting forever,” I mutter. He shrugs. Right now, I’d prefer his usual smug demeanour. This sombre side of him is elevating my nervousness.

My feet and mind are at war. My mind is eager to know, but my feet are stuck on the spot, begging me to turn the other way and run. As soon as I go through this door, everything I’ve ever known will change—not that my world hasn’t tilted on its axis after the past few weeks. Can I handle whatever changes await me on the other side? Do I have a choice?