Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1) (20 page)

“The entire summer.” I won’t see him, won’t see Lea, and Reiner will be working the whole summer. My sense of normalcy is quickly diminishing. “I know the distance is huge but we’ll talk all the time, right?”

I look at him—really look at him. His eyes seem more alive than I’ve ever seen them. The lines that sometimes haunt his face have faded. This is the chance he’s been longing for. Just him and his father. I should be happy for him. I
am
happy for him. Then why do I feel as if my feet have been swept out from under me?

“It’s okay, really. This is your chance with your dad. I’m happy for you, Ro.” I snap my mouth shut, swallowing the words choking me.

Rolf exhales, brushing his lips on the nape of my neck, and I shiver. “Thank you.”

“If you go falling in love with the girls over there, I’ll kick your butt. Personally.”

He laughs. “I’d like to see you try. And I have eyes only for you, Engel. Always you.” His laughter fades as his gaze drops to my mouth, then back up. His eyes darken, filling with deep passionate hunger. Air jams in my chest.

His fingers untangle from mine, tracing up my arms, my neck, my jaw, before he brushes his thumb on my lips. Goose bumps rush up my skin. Thunder rolls in the distance. A drop of rain thwacks my arm, momentarily cooling me. Without breaking eye contact, his other hand slips around my neck, pulling me closer. I’m ensnared, helpless, like a rabbit caught in a tiger’s hypnotizing eyes. If the world was to split into two right now, I wouldn’t care. His mouth hovers over mine for several heartbeats, his breath fanning my cheeks. “Thank you.” Several raindrops land on his forehead, sliding down his face.

“We should go back,” I say, shifting my face slightly to the side.

His lips graze my cheek. He sighs and slips one hand at the nape of my neck, holding my head in place, then leans his forehead to mine. His breathing comes and goes quickly, just like mine. Rainwater clings on his full eyelashes. “You and me. Always. I’ll come back to you. And I promise to talk to you about everything.” The hand on my face falls away. He shifts from side to side as if trying to adjust his sitting position.

“Sorry.” I giggle, lifting my butt from his lap to sit on the soaking wet step.

The hand on my neck tightens. “Don’t move. Not yet.”

“We need to get out of the rain.” As I twist to stand, my hand brushes his lap.
Oh.
Oh boy. Heat rises in my face. I turn away and scramble to my feet. “We—we should go.” Why am I shy all of a sudden? It’s not like it’s never happened before. It has. Often.

“Look at me, Engel.”

I do, through rain streaming down my face. He pushes the thick drenched curls from my face. My hair will be a beast after it dries, but I don’t care.

“I desire you and no one else.” Joy gushes through me. We’ve spoken about sex before. I never felt ready to venture, and Rolf being the gentleman he is, told me we had all the time in the world. Maybe it’s all this rain and frustration in the air that makes everything feel so different, urgent. His hand leaves my face. When I turn, he’s holding a small blue box.

“What’s that?” I shift so I can get a proper look.

“I never pictured doing this in murdering rain, but…” He snaps the box open. I gasp. Rolf gingerly removes the bracelet, puts the box aside, and grasps my hand. “My love for you isn’t measurable by material things, but I would like you to have this to remember me by in the days we won’t be together.”

“Rolf…,” I say as he clasps the bracelet around my wrist. I run my fingertips along the smooth blue and grey stones. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
And deliciously intense
. I stare at him through blurry eyes, rain mingled with tears. “Always you.” My voice is a shaky whisper. If only my wish to know what’s going on with him will be granted soon.

By the time we leave, the sun peeks through the grey clouds, the clothes stick on our bodies, and I’m walking on air.

***

I jolt awake to the sound of my own snoring. The class erupts into a discordant choir of laughter, which heightens my loathing for Mondays.

Way to go, Ana. You snagged the position of the class clown of the day
.

I look down at my hand and groan as I watch drool slide to the desk. I wipe my mouth with my other hand. In front of the class, Herr Bauer glares, his eyebrows almost touching his nose. I sink lower in my seat, my face heating up. He turns his thin frame to face the board and continues scribbling whatever I interrupted. The attention shifts to the front of the class, and I allow air in my lungs.

 Last night Grim and I must have gone to over ten places, and every collection was as heart wrenching as the next.

I brace my pounding head with one hand, more to keep it from falling off than in concentration. My eyes alternate between the board and my notebook. I’m just glad Rolf will tutor me tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll be ready for exams on Wednesday.

Speaking of Rolf…

I glance over my shoulder one desk behind me and raise my eyebrows at Reiner. He shakes his head. He hasn’t seen or spoken to Rolf, either. He hasn’t replied to any of my texts. Wherever he is, I hope he’s safe.

The air inside the room shifts. My hand drops from my head, as I look around and zoom in on the slouching figure at the back of the class, and groan.

Zig is rapidly proving to be the bane of my existence. He smiles and waves, looking very proud of himself. I ignore him and face Herr Bauer, my heart pounding. Is there no way to stop this guy? Does he even listen?

What’s he up to? I dart a quick look over my shoulder. Zig struts confidently towards me. Before he reaches my desk, I shoot to my feet, excuse myself to the bathroom, and scurry out of the room, ignoring the teacher’s glare.

I head straight inside the girls’ bathroom. As soon as the door closes, I turn around and slam into Zig’s chest. “Gah!” I leap away from him. After checking under the stall doors and finding them empty, I round on him. “I’m in class, Zig. Studying for my exams. What do you want?”

He folds his arms across his chest and shrugs. “To rescue you, lovely. You were dying of boredom in there.”

My eyes blink open. “I was trying to concentrate.”

“You were snoring and drooling.”

I clench my jaw. Really, what does one say after being caught drooling? I lean back on the sink and rub my temples. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

Zig leans forwards, raises his eyebrows, and smiles. “I’m bearing gifts.” He hands me something wrapped in flimsy wrapping paper. “Your trench. Rikar says hi.”

At the mention of the tailor, I shudder. “Thanks.” I rub the light-as-air material, inspecting the tiny compartments for the soul vials while ignoring his eyes on me. My stomach twists as the truth of holding the trench in my hands hits me. It cements everything. What I am, not what I will become. “Doesn’t protect much during winter, does it?” I say in a quiet voice.

“It adapts to the season. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Zig ducks his head and peers at me. “Hey, are you okay?”

I nod. “Thank you, Zig.”

He rubs his hands together. “Good. Are you ready for our lessons?”

 “Don’t you have any collections to do? I have to go back to class.”

“Nope. And your class ends in three, two, one…” The bell rings. “Come on, lovely. Let’s shift out of here. We’ll get your bag on the way out.” I don’t move a step. “Look, this training is part of your protection. You’ll add it to your kick-ass kit.”

“Kick-ass kit?” I frown. “What’s that?”

“Did Ernest give you the knife?” I nod. “Now, the kick-ass kit is the overall package you’ll need for the job. Trench, soul knife, food,
me
.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes. “Right.”

“Good. We understand each other. Come on. Someone’s coming.”

I grab his hand, and we shift out and inside the now empty classroom. After shoving the books inside the rucksack, we leave.

***

“Concentrate. Now, close your eyes. Visualize. Let whatever shifting magic Ernest bestowed on you flow through you.” Zig sounds as tired as I feel. I breathe in and pull the image of the little hut across the field as the area I want to shift to. I let it soar in my blood. My body doesn’t even move an inch. This is exhausting. I wish we could pack it in for today and go home. Zig left nine times to complete his assignments, and each time he dragged me along with him. Right now, my head is about to explode. “I have. And I’m tired, Zig. Can’t we do this tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Why?” My voice is whiny, but I don’t care.

“Because you’re not trying. Push yourself. Let’s try one more time, lovely.” Even that endearment on his lips now sounds like a threat. His flirting and smiles have long changed to grunts, exasperation, and impatience.

I flex my fingers and let my eyes slip shut. I do as he’s been instructing me the last two hours. Concentrate on pulling the power from inside me, gather it in my mind, project destination, and release. He snaps at me, says the magic is meant to be contained, not exposed. Whatever that means. I snap back. I’m sure if we continue, we’ll shred each other to pieces.

I glance at the meadow, the cows grazing several feet away, the silhouette of the snow-capped Alps at a distance. Zig shifted us to a field in Tirol. He said the serenity would help me concentrate. Not really. The water trickling against stones close by makes me want to pee. Plus, the soft tinkle of the bells around the cows’ necks is like a lullaby. I never thought it would be so difficult learning to shift. I’ve been looking forward to learning this, to shifting and visiting places.

Zig sighs heavily. “Come on. I’ll take you home.” I shuffle forwards, pick up my rucksack, and clamp my hand over his. “Now, concentrate. Do you feel anything?” I close my eyes, and try to feel. I don’t, but nod anyway, just to get him to shut up about the lessons already. “Now, I’ll focus on my destination and let go.”

Yay, my bed, finally.
One more thing, though. “Can I ask you for a favour?” He pauses mid-shift and looks down at me. “I need to check on someone urgently.”

Immediately the tiredness flees, replaced by the light that appears in his eyes when he’s about to tease me. He lifts an eyebrow. I give him the address. The other eyebrow shoots up. “And here I thought we’re paying lover boy a surprise visit. Spit the details.”

“She’s my tattooist. I need some touch-ups.”

He frowns at my wrists. “They look—”

“Are you going to take me or not?” I snap at him, jerking my hand from his.

Zig lifts his hands, palms facing me. “Easy there, lovely. Don’t go tigerish on me.” He looks away, debating my request. He nods and holds his hand out again.

We hover in the hallway. An elderly lady holding a leash attached to a dog that seems to have just about three hairs on its entire body exits a nearby flat and stops beside us. She glares, lips pinched. When I extend my hand and pretend to knock on Zaynab’s door, she hobbles away on legs too steady for her age. From behind closed doors, dogs bark and cats meow, but no children’s voices on the whole floor. One time I heard two young women discussing the fact that Austrians possess more pets than they have children. Sometimes I think it’s true. I shake the thoughts and turn to Zig. “No one’s answering.”

“There’s only one way to do this.” His gaze darts up and down the hallway, and he grasps my hand. Before I breathe out, we’re inside Zaynab’s flat.

“You can’t just shift us inside someone’s room, Zig. It’s like breaking and entering.”

One eyebrow shoots up. “You wanted to check on your tattooist, right? We’re here.” He sweeps a hand dramatically. My grumbling dies in my throat. He has a point, but still. After looking around the lifeless space, he says, “Traces of magic already faded. I’d say no one’s been here the last two days.”

“Traces of magic?”

He nods. “The one you’re looking for—people like us can be traced by magic. You have traces as well.”

I run the words over in my mind. “Zaynab, is she like us
us
? She can shift?”

He frowns as if he realises he’d said something odd. “There are traces. So I can only assume she is like us.”

I look around for the umpteenth time. For something, a clue, anything. The room is the same as how Lea and I left it.

We leave, and appear in my room. I toss my rucksack on the floor. “Did you find anything, um… about Rolf?”

Zig seems startled by my question. “N-no.” He clears his throat and looks away, quickly adding, “Listen, I’ll pick you up at eleven for the dinner. Get some sleep. I plan to work some lessons with you before we leave.”

As soon as Zig leaves, I collapse face down on top of the bed, push my introduction to Afterworld society to the back of my head and pull the memory of those tinkling bells at the meadow.

T
HE NUMBERS IN THE ALARM CLOCK
on the nightstand change to eleven p.m. Half an hour ago, Mom, carrying a plate of tomato and chicken sandwich, stopped by to check how I was doing after I missed dinner. After a satisfactory “Mom, I’m just tired of all the studying for my finals,” Mom hugged me and left. Now the house is silent. Everyone’s gone to bed. The more I lie to my parents, the heavier the guilt threatens to choke me.