Page 39 of Reaper's Quest

No tug towards uncollected death. No souls in need of reaping.

Chace’s hands hung at his sides, clenching and opening, clenching and opening.“If no one in this place has been dying, where is everyone?”

I tapped, tapped, tapped my fingers against my thigh and scrutinized one dark space after the other. “Hiding from the specters Aoes mentioned? What did he call them? The RFYLs.”

If these things scared the citizens to such a level that theycalled them run-for-your-life, what should we, as reapers, be prepared to face?

I silently recited one of my father’s mantras,I will not be taken by surprise, and I will see the big picture.

Chace shook his head, a motion filled with incredulity. “That acronym isn’t working for me.”

Hadn’t I thought something similar? My lips twitched, fighting an upward tug. A strange, but oddly entertaining, tension existed between Chace and Aoes, and it wouldn’t surprise me to discover that “tension” affected Chace’s opinion.

But…yeah…the acronym…wholly nonsensical.

“I have it on good authority,” Mr. Aldine said, “that the key to rectifying this entire debacle of a situation can be found with or near the governance residing in the castle.”

In other words, with a bunch of stuck-up royals. That’s great.

I rubbed a developing ache in my shoulder. “Did this information come from the Collections Office?”

“A confidante.”

That isn’t oddly cryptic.

“So…” Mr. Aldine scratched his shoulder. “Our quest, or the first phase of our quest, is to physically locate said key.”

“It goes without saying,” Chace retorted.

We moved deeper into the citadel and paused briefly at a fork in the road. To the right, a narrow alley with an enclosed overpass. To the left, a wider path lined with private residences. And straight ahead, clustered with closed businesses, the largest path of the three. In the distance, an ornate, angled building divided the path yet again.

Mr. Aldine chose the avenue straight ahead. The onemoving in the direction of the castle perched on the high ground in the citadel’s center.

Business after business slipped past—a shoe repair shop, a mason, a baker, a barber, a too-small bookstore, a knickknack dealer. Several shops up ahead, including a small café with three tables, nuzzled against the street side.

Four people, two men and two women, gathered at one of the tables, enjoying a conversation over mugs of steaming liquid.

My heart kicked up. With what? Relief? Concern? Nerves?

At our approach, the citizens turned their heads, and their chatter ceased. They stared for a solid count of one.

“Hello,” Mr. Aldine called out, his breath heavy and his hand waving above his head.

As if they understood minions of death stood among them, the group jumped to their feet and scattered.

“Well, that was less than friendly,” Chace deadpanned..

I snorted. “Maybe because the citadel’s welcoming committee stopped being a thing a century ago.” He tossed me a sideways glance, and I shrugged. “What? It’s a valid hunch.”

“Nevertheless, mentees,” Mr. Aldine said. “Do not be deterred and follow me.”

11

Two people ran up the street, a third dashed to the left, and the fourth, a woman, raced into the adjacent café. The shop’s door quickly closed and locked.

Unsurprising reaction, given the fear Aoes attempted to press upon us about MDs, PDs, and RFYL soul-sucking specters…or whatever they turned out to be. We were strangers amongst these people, and what did strangers represent to the citizens?

Mr. Aldine’s hand remained raised and waving. “Please don’t go on our account. Stay and enjoy your drinks.”