Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1) (7 page)

L
IKE 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.

M
Y 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.”