Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1) (33 page)

“
I
’M LEAVING,”
he says. “I can’t do this to you, Engel.”

“I thought—wait, what do you mean
you can’t do this to me
?”

“I can’t be with you. Not any longer.”

My knees buckle. “What?”

He paces to the window, a fist pressed on his forehead. “It’s getting worse. The voices. If I stay, I’ll kill you.”

“But, you said I could save you. I want to save you, Ro.” He gave me the damn bracelet. He said I was the only one who could save him.

He shakes his head. “I’m beyond saving.” His body twitches as if he’s having a seizure. I hurry towards him, but he lifts his head, halting me with a look. His lips curl into a sneer. “You can’t save what you don’t know.”

“I know you, Ro. You and I—” My pulse races. “You and I are… one.”

“
You and I
? You’re human.” His laugh is cold, mocking. “Don’t be ridiculous.” My heart sinks. The scary Rolf has come out to play. He circles me, and I mirror his steps.

“Stop it, Ro. I know you’re in there somewhere. And the Rolf I know wouldn’t say those things to me.”

“It’s me all right, darling.”

“No, it’s not! News flash, I don’t like the new you.”

He moves fast, a growl erupting from his lips. “No one speaks to me in that tone. No. One.” Before I can move, his fingers are wrapped around my neck and my feet are dangling under me. I kick my legs, hitting his thighs. He doesn’t budge. I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t get air in my lungs. I can’t breathe.

His fingers twitch, and the force around my neck loosens. I open my eyes. He squeezes his shut, shaking his head. When he opens his eyes, they’re warm, grey, and confused.

“
Ana
?” He looks at the hand around my neck and wrenches it back, as though my very skin scalds him. I slide and crumple to the floor, wheezing.

He stumbles back, dropping to his knees, arms dangling at his sides. “What have I done?”

“Ro,” I croak. “I can help you.” I pull myself on my knees, trying to crawl forwards. He has to listen to me. If what Schulz said is true…  

He crawls away from my touch. “You can’t. I almost killed you. The voice—as long as we’re together, it won’t let me go.”

“Look at me. Listen to me!” I hate the desperation plaguing me. “Please.”

He blinks.

I try to look him in the eye, but my throat and lungs burn. I hunch forwards, swallowing air. “I can help you. I know what you are. You understand?”

He stares at me, his lower lip between his teeth. “I’m leaving. Understand this, Engel. I want you safe. Even if it means me leaving you.” He pushes himself to his feet.

“Don’t walk away, Ro.” He digs his fingers into his hair, and slides on the floor beside me. My pulse flutters. This is good. At least he’s here, close to me. A sliver of fear darts through my heart. I shake it off. If he senses my fear, he’ll bolt.

Rolf touches his forehead to mine, his ragged breath on my face. “I can’t… Engel.” He intertwines our fingers. “I cannot
not
have you in my life. But I’d rather have you safe than lose you.” One hand leaves mine, and his fingers flutter along my jaw. His gaze follows his hand, and he shudders. “I’m not good for you.”

I swallow the sour taste rising up my throat. The action sets off pain. It’s not only my throat that’s bruised. My heart is bleeding inside out. “You
are
good for me. We’re good together.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

I wrench my face from his hands and hobble towards the window. I won’t let him see my tears. I bite my lip to stop the sob lodged in my throat. God, this hurts so bad, but the attempt to squelch the tears is useless.

A pair of strong hands grips my shoulders and spins me around. I open my mouth to speak, but I freeze, immobilized by the force, the power of those ten fingers pressing into my skin to the point of pain. Rolf snakes his arm around my waist, yanks me to his hard body, and buries his head in the crook of my neck. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I hurt you. I’m sorry I can’t let you go. I’m sorry I have to. My heart feels like crap.” Frantic fingers tremble as they skate on my back and stomach. “I’m sorry.”

I snap into action. My hands tangle in his hair, touching his face. “Then don’t.”

Rolf kisses me, and my body melts to his touch as always. My knees buckle at the sheer force of him, his lips, the kiss, the anger and love coursing through my veins. Soon we’re on our knees, him pushing me on my back. When the tip of his tongue caresses the seam of my lips, I open to him and it’s a battle of tongues and limbs and hands.

The kiss is fast. It’s furious. It’s unstoppable. I’m surrounded by Rolf’s sandalwood scent. I’m floating. I’m air. I’m fire. He pulls me closer, any closer and I’m sure we’ll burn into each other’s skin for eternity.

Then the kiss changes, the pacing slower, more sensual. His lips leave mine, trailing my jaw. He pulls back too soon. “You have to understand, Engel. I can’t.” He untangles himself, and  presses his lips to my temple, turns, and stumbles out of my room. The whole house trembles as the front door bangs shut.

I dash to the window. Rolf stalks out the wrought iron gate, hands pocketed in his jeans. He seems to have difficulty inserting the key, but finally he unlocks his car and slips into the driver’s seat. He lifts his fists and pummels the steering wheel. The horn blares several times, echoing down the street. Rolf drops his head on the wheel, shoulders shaking. Seconds later he slams the door shut, starts the car, and peels out of the parking spot. He doesn’t look back.

I curl in bed, afraid to fall asleep. Maybe Rolf will realise it was a mistake and come back. I wouldn’t want him to find I’ve dozed off.

A knock on the door. “Ana, are you in there?”

“Just a minute, Mom.” I bolt from the bed, swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, and comb my hair with my fingers. Mom must have arrived before Rolf left.

The door clicks open, and Mom’s head ducks around it. At the exact time a ping sounds in my head. Collection instructions. Grey soul. Forty-seven years, Hermannsweg 7th district—

“Ana?” She hurries to my side, frowning. The ping goes off again. “I saw Rolf. What happened?” Why does she have to dig around while I’m trying to compose myself enough to do a collection?

“Just a spat. We’ll be fine.” I bite my cheek to stop the pain splitting my heart in two.

She ducks her head to catch my gaze. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“Not really.” I should go, but I don’t want Mom getting suspicious about my quick exit.

She pulls me in for a hug. “I promised to give you space to deal with things like you asked me to, but now, I’m putting my foot down. I need to know what’s going on.”

What part of “going on” would be suitable? None, I guess.

“I think Rolf and I are—it’s over.”

She sighs. “It might not feel like it right now, but life has a way of sorting itself out.” She holds me at arm’s length. “You’re young, Ana. You’ve yet to meet someone who will make your heart beat to his own rhythm. Whose air will be your air.”

This time the instructions flicker in red. I pull back hastily. “I’d like to go for a walk. Can we talk later?”

“Sure.” She traces a thumb over my cheek.

The instructions flicker at an alarming rate, making my head spin. On impulse, I give Mom a quick hug and kiss on her cheek.

She stares at me wide-eyed, then smiles. “I love you, Silvana. You’ll be fine.”

Right now, I’m not so confident. “Love you too, Mom.” I grab my rucksack and dash out of the room.

Once outside, I swipe again at my face and push the thoughts from my mind. I glance around before concealing and shifting to the collection site. I reread the instructions, while slipping my trench on, and my stomach twists. My collection is an accident scene.

A freaking accident scene!

My breath spurts out as images of crushed metal and broken glass flit inside my head.

Seconds later, I enter the collection scene in Hermannsweg, shivering from the sudden drop in temperature too cold for June. I choke as the smell of burnt rubber slams into me. On my right are skid marks, leading to a dismantled motorcycle sprawled on the tarmac. Blood darkens the street’s black surface of the road. I bite my fist to stop from shrieking, fighting the images of weeks ago as they leap into my mind.

I turn to my left, towards a crowd of onlookers, in search of my client. A car blocks the only entrance leading to the alley. I crouch and spring, leaping over the crowd and landing noiselessly on top of the car. A woman sits a few feet from the car, head on her knees, weeping. Sobbing filters from under my feet, and I realise someone is trapped inside. The car sways as two men attempt to yank the doors open. I peek through the jagged hole on the windshield. The driver’s seat is empty, but on the passenger seat a man is trapped under the safety belt. His soul still burns strong.

I hop down from the car, looking for a flickering soul. There’s no sign of the fire brigade yet. The temperature plunges lower, causing my breath to swirl in puffs of air. Clouds, resembling raven wings, cloak the sky. Lightning bursts across the sky, leaving the odour of blown fuse in the air. Someone screams. Heads swing up. Faces freeze, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. Then chaos explodes in the alley. Above me, dark grey clouds loom—or what looks like clouds—darkening by the second. Out of nowhere, hailstones pummel the ground, scattering the crowd completely.

I gape at the dark cloud from hell. My heart doubles its beating, as memory throws images of a few weeks ago, when I first saw something similar to this. A chill brushes my neck and legs.

Soul Snatchers. My
equalizers
.

Crap! Crap! Crap! Today is my worst day ever!

I
WHIRL AROUND.
I can’t see it. The soul I’m supposed to collect is nowhere in sight.

The cloud descends as swiftly as the temperature plunges. It splits into six formless bodies, zeroing in on me. My fingers fumble inside the side-pocket of my rucksack for my dagger. I can’t find it! They swoop once again. I twist my body and duck, my heart lodged in my throat. Grim’s words about Hostiles and Snatchers always on the lookout for an immortal body dig in my mind. Finally, my clammy fingers wrap around the leather sheath and yank the knife out. As I lift my hand, my legs tangle on something—I think on each other—and I collapse, swinging the dagger in a wobbly arc. The air hisses as the bright edge of it grazes one form. It backs away, and just when it looks like it will attack again, it hovers, veers, and floats to join the others. Then I see why it abandoned me. The body I was searching for lies a few feet from me. Its grey soul colour flickers, and then burns brighter. I struggle to my feet and sprint forwards. As if on command, the soul ascends, drawn to the Snatchers. Its desperation to join them is so thick it cloaks around my skin. Grim mentioned that grey souls are troubled and bound to be attracted by darkness. The Snatchers assemble into one massive form, envelop the soul, and rise to the sky where they vanish. The temperature returns to normal. The clouds part and dissolve.

My knees give way. No! This wasn’t supposed to happen. The soul was snatched on my watch. I snap my mobile from my pocket and speed dial.

“Lovely Ana, thinking about—”

“Zig, I need help.”

“Well, okay. Let’s get the serious business out of the way so we can go to flirting.”

“Please, Zig. Not now. I—I messed up.” My voice shakes. I press a hand to my lips and shut my eyes. “Can you meet me later, after your shift?”

There’s a moment of silence. “Sure, Ana. Ten o’clock at the Cathedral?” His voice is no longer teasing.

I relax. “Yes. Thank you, Zig.”

“Hold tight, lovely Ana.” This time the endearment is from concern.

I end the call and watch as two personnel from the ambulance place the body in a gurney bag. I’ve lost a soul to the Snatchers. I should have been there on time. What will Grim say?

I tuck the dagger inside the rucksack, and shift to the Cathedral. A few hours later, I still haven’t gathered enough courage to tell Grim I lost a soul. Zig arrives, looking me up and down. “I see you’ve been rolling in dirt. Tell me, what’s gotten your little heart troubled, Ana? Grim has taken over nightshift. I have all the time in the world for you.”