Page 60 of Reaper's Quest

He had dropped to a sit with his back pressed against the bricks of a nearby building, legs bent and arms draped over his knees. A soft wind coasting along the bordering passageway lifted strains of his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice. His thoughts appeared miles from the wretched citadel.

A tiny pang of guilt squeezed my chest.

The fact that he was here, trapped in the cursed predicament, could be entirely my fault, and I hadn’t forgotten that. Not even for a minute. But also, I hadn’t allowed myself to dwell on the possible facts.

The equal probability existed that we were both called to the citadel because of our family connections.

Either way, I couldn’t change what had already transpired, and dwelling would only weaken my fortitude, causing our overall mission to suffer.

Chace’s attention snapped to his right, and he twisted to peer around the building corner and bordering passageway.

A half-beat later, a sound cracked on my left, dragging my gaze from him and his preoccupation.

Before I could complete a full investigational turn, three citizens bumped into me. Each one afflicted—touched by the disease that rotted the citadel. Despite their death-type state, they appeared to have retained enough of their original senses to band together and work as a team. A newlyrevealed, far-from-awesome aspect of the task we’d have to deal with.

I stifled a groan.

The afflicted knocked me to the ground, slamming my back against the hard, uneven stone. One of them reached for my scythe, something I couldn’t allow.

Twisting, I grabbed the tool and pulled it to my chest, the blade’s razor edge scratching at my hand. A hot sting burned across my unbruised palm, flooding my hand with sticky warmth.

Great. Now both my palms will be tender.

Garbled words slipped from my attackers’ lips, sounding much like pleas for help.

Were the zombified citizens, on some level, aware of their circumstances? Using Earl as an example, I’d answer yes. They very much could be.

Chace yanked one of the afflicted away, his expression fevered. He reached for the second, but the first one he had pulled free returned, clutching and pulling at him.

“Hel… Hel…” Unfinished words tumbled free from the afflicted.

“Yes, you’re going to hell. The underworld awaits you,” Chace grumbled, his words filled with obvious irritation as he thrust another away with more force than necessary.

I didn’t believehellwas the word the subjects tried to communicate. I suspected the appropriate word might behelp.

One of the afflicted pressed me to the ground, her tormented face inches from my own. The attacker’s weight grew heavier and heavier, as if she intended to push our bodies into one.

My scythe became pinned between us, and I couldn’t use it in any helpful manner. With a grunt, I wiggled, tried to work my arm free and secure a solid grip upon the tool. My actions only resulted in another cut, another slice of pain. I gritted my teeth against the new sting.

“Hhhellp.” The afflicted’s forehead swung forward, connecting with mine in a hard thump.

I shrieked, sprang my hands free from my hold upon the scythe, and whipped them against her face, pushing her away. Blood pooling on my palm slid across her skin, making a solid purchase strained.

Out of reflex…or a twinge of panic…my collection’s eye and reaper’s grip activated simultaneously. My eyes seared, and my palms, damp with blood, tingled and pulsed. Energy deep within my core vibrated.

My breath quickened?in-out, in-out, in-out.

The tip of the afflicted’s soul tickled my receptors—the first sign of hope since Chace and I had begun attempting to reap souls named on the collection list.

“Exit the vessel and move on,” I yelled to the soul lingering within the zombified citizen.

The woman on top of me blinked, but her action appeared more coincidence than a response to anything I said. Because a second later, she drew her head back and crashed it forward. Again.

I willed my eyes closed in preparation for the coming headbutt, but I couldn’t. My collection’s eye had taken control, and it refused to let me blink, much less close my lids and sever the connection.

I tensed, anticipated. And the crash… It didn’t come.

The afflicted moved up and away, tossed to the side by Chace.