Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1) (35 page)

“How does he immortalise a soul?”

“Magical paint and a gift of drawing,” Bastian says.

Definitely something to discuss with Grim later—if he doesn’t skin Zig and me and hang us to dry when we return from Mirrorlands.

I shift on the sofa. “I’m keen on rescuing this one soul before any damage is done.”

Bastian beckons to us. “Follow me then. But first, you will need this.” He snatches a huge black cloak from a hook next to the door and holds it out to me. “You will thank me for it.”

F
RIGID AIR SLAMS INTO MY FACE
when we step inside the oval-shaped Passage Room. I pull the cloak tighter over my trench, smile at Bastian, and follow him to the centre of the room, which is buzzing with a soft whirring noise. Two huge clocks with Roman numbers are mounted next to each other on the right side. Inside the clock, are six thin black clock hands. Four point to respective compass letters: E, W, N, S. The other two indicate the minute and hour.

We halt at the edge of a circle on the floor, with interweaving bright blue lines. Just like the ones in the portal at the international cuisine place. Bastian taps the symbols and letters—with a stick or pen, I can’t tell—then steps out of the circle. More lines burst forth, spilling into the room. He turns to face Kian and Zig. Kian leans his shoulder on the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Zig stands with his hands fisted at his sides like he’s about to punch anyone brave enough to cross his path. I’m really dying to know the history between these two.

“Siegfried?” Bastian lifts a brow in question.

A quick shake of the head from Zig confirms he hasn’t changed his mind about Kian hopping on our rescue boat. I sigh. If we start arguing, we’ll lose precious time. Better to have one man, than two men who can’t leash their hostility against each other.

“All right, then. Kian stays.” Bastian moves closer. “But if I don’t hear from you in one and a half hours, I’m sending Kian. Like it or not, Siegfried. Now, listen very carefully and do exactly as I say. It’s the only way to make sure you find your way back here. Time moves differently there. As you know, Sinteler is powerful. More powerful than two of me combined. Which means, he can alter anything to suit his immediate needs. Even change portals within his territory.

“Getting stuck inside that dimension is not a good idea. Make a point of
not
getting stuck.” He pauses, his eyes drilling into my face, then Zig’s. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I sidle closer to Zig. I wish he’d say something funny or sarcastic, like he always does.

“There are several entry and exit ports within Sinteler’s fortress, and I cannot guarantee where they lead to,” Bastian says. “The one you will use now is one we man very well. Use the same one or you’ll end up somewhere else, say in China.”

We nod.

Bastian sighs wearily. “Is there any point in discouraging you? This is dangerous. At least let Kian escort you two. His hunting skills will come in handy.”

“We’ll be fine, Bastian.” Zig cups my elbow firmly, and his blue eyes flash down at me.

Bastian extracts two small pouches from a drawer behind his desk and hands them to us. “Use as little of this powder as possible to mark your way.” This is so Hansel and Gretel. He steps back. “Now, step into the first circle. Place your feet on the ‘eight’ sign.”

We do as we’re told.

Bastian walks over to the clock on the wall and taps three symbols with astounding speed. He bows. “Good luck.”

The last things I see are Kian and Bastian’s worried expressions.

***

As soon as we come through the portal, I blink several times to adjust to my surroundings, lit by sconces perched high on the wall. The room stretches a width of about twenty metres. I inhale deeply to clear the tightness in my chest and immediately choke on the scent similar to rust and electricity short-circuits. I fling one arm over my nose, readjusting my rucksack on my shoulders.

“You okay?”

I nod, blinking several times. His hand drops from my elbow.

“This feels wrong.” I look around. “If you control one of the strongest businesses, handling souls, wouldn’t there be guards all over the place?”

“This is Sinteler,” he says, as if it sums up the kind of person Sinteler is. Maybe it does. Lengthening my stride to catch up with Zig’s, I open my pouch and start to mark up the walls as Bastian instructed. The powder is hardly visible, unless one really knows where to look.

Zig marks the wall on his right. “What next, lovely Ana?”

“Here’s my proposal: burst in, grenades in hand, toss them, reclaim the soul, and Speedy Gonzales out of this hell pit.” I wish I felt as confident and fearless as I sound.

Zig laughs. “A girl after my own heart.” After a few seconds of silence he says, “I meant it when I said I’ll take care of you.”

“We’ll take care of each other, okay? I asked for your help, and I’m not going to risk anything happening to you.”

“Ah, at last. She loves me.” Zig slaps a hand on his chest.

“You’ve grown on me, Zig.” I smile and look away.

“Give me a few days. I’ll make sure you forget lover boy.”

Pain slashes my heart in ribbons. For just a few moments I’d actually managed to put aside what happened with Rolf. Now it’s back, tearing my insides to shreds. I blink several times to clear my sight, then slip my hand into Zig’s as shadows dance ahead of us. “Let’s do this and go home.”

“I’m sorry to bring him up.” He gives my hand a light squeeze.

I wipe my eyes with the cloak, glad the room is dimly lit. “I’m fine.”

“If you weren’t trying to strangle my hand and your eyes weren’t taking over the rest of your face, I’d believe you.” He gives my hand a light squeeze.

Walking down the hallway, we freeze, as metal clangs in the distance. The air around us quivers, and the ground beneath our feet trembles. Zig winces, glancing at my fingers digging into his palm. Red sparks of light flicker in a distance, then disappear, and in that moment, I see mirrors on both sides of the walls. The air grows heavier. Zig seems to have stopped breathing altogether. I peek up at him to find blue eyes glowing in the dark room, darting left and right.

Great. This makes two scared rabbits sniffing around the lion’s den. Where has my protector gone?

“Something is heading this way.” He yanks my hand, darts to the wall, and throws himself in front of me.

The air around us presses closer. The temperature plunges. I lock my teeth to stop them from chattering. Zig’s arms tighten around me, but I can’t seem to get warm.

Then the temperature climbs a little, and the air relaxes. I can breathe. Stale air, with a rotten egg stench.

Zig drops his hands from my shoulders. “You okay?”

I nod, then shake my head. “What was that?”

“If I’m not wrong, the Tarnished, Sinteler’s guards.” He wipes his forehead with the sleeve of his trench, and drops to a crouch, chest heaving. “I thought they’d sense us.”

I squat beside him and peer into his suddenly pale face. “You don’t look good.”

He inhales. “I’ll be fine in a second. I just need to breathe. The bastards drained my energy.” When he finally straightens, colour has returned to his face. The smug grin is back. “I’m good.”

“What exactly did you do?”

“Shielded us. Usually it isn’t so draining, but the suckers have a gift for draining energy off anything. They sensed it when I created that bubble to shield us and attacked.” He tugs me down the hall.

“Tarnished.” The word is sour on my tongue.

“Yes. Once again, Sinteler’s brilliance shines through. From what I heard, the Tarnished are souls that belonged to soldiers. Mercenaries. He only has to train them to absorb energy, and bam! Nothing can touch them. Do you have your dagger?”

I nod, patting my rucksack.

“Good. That’s the only thing that can kill them. Snatchers, Tarnished, anything as long as it’s soul related.”

Keeping conversation to a minimum, we walk for what feels like forever, keeping an eye on movement and listening for sounds. The air grows heavier and colder. In between, we make stops to mark the walls. Shadows shift inside the mirrors on the wall. We reach the end of the hallway, and walk into a massive circular room, branching into six paths. They all look similar. Zig tilts his head, pointing to the path in the middle. Since he’s all magic and can sense stuff, I trudge after him. The farther in we go, the tenser Zig’s body gets, and mine follows suit.

I clear my throat, which echoes through the hallway filled with mirrors. He shoots me a startled look. “You and Kian seem to have an interesting history, huh?”

His jaw hardens. “That’s one topic I’m not touching.”

After my shattered attempt at conversation, which seems to have brought Zig’s brooding back with a bang, I press my mouth shut and let my mind wander to other things. Lea in Florence. The last time I spoke to her, she sounded really happy doing what she does best: explaining about portraits and stuff. Maybe I can visit her. As long as Rein won’t be there. I’m not ready to forgive him.

“Not to dance and party in the wake of your recent heartbreak, lovely, but Ernest will be ecstatic when he finds out you broke up with lover boy. Definitely redouble his efforts.”

“Efforts?”

“Yeah, with your dinner escorts?”

I shake my head. “It’s comforting to know someone will have fun at my expense.”

“Consider me your knight in shining armour.” He flashes a smile. “I will rescue you.”

I roll my eyes. “How chivalrous of you.”

The hallway spills into another circular room, which diverges into three identical paths. Still the place is quiet, giving no indication of life. Shouldn’t the Tarnished guards be doing their rounds?

Zig shifts on his feet. “Which one of these does your womanly senses point to?” His voice is teasing. I hear the slight note of nervousness beneath it.

I wrinkle my nose. “I can’t believe you just said ‘womanly senses’. But you are Methuselah old. Shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

“Smart mouth.”

“Flirt,” I retort, glad to be tossing words around, if only to keep myself from running back where we just came from.

The decision is made for us when low murmurs carry through the air from the path on our right. Probably one we should avoid.

“Do you hear that?”

Zig nods, eyes trained on the path the voices came from.

“We should take that one.” I pull him in another direction. Holding hands feels so kindergarten. I can’t remember the last time I held hands with someone for longer than ten minutes—other than my best friends and boyfriend.
Ex-boyfriend
. Quickly I shove those thoughts away. This isn’t the time or place.

Zig pauses to take out the pouch containing the dust and marks the trail.

This path, which is actually a room of sorts, isn’t as wide as the hallway we came in, but it’s about thirty feet high, lit by sconces. Shelves are mounted on the wall next to the mirrors. About ten steps into the room, the use of the shelves becomes clear. Vials of different sizes and colours rest on them.

I slip my hand from Zig’s and inch closer, eyes glued on the vials, labelled in a slant, neat handwriting in chronological order of century, year, month, date, and hour. Peering closer, I realise they’re all empty. Something writhes in the mirror. I lean forwards, my nose almost touching the shelf in front of me. Mist-like grey, nearly translucent, forms swirl in its confines. Even after Zig told me what Sinteler does with souls, I’m not prepared for the real thing.

“Dear God, Zig, come take a look at this.” I glance over my shoulder to find Zig staring wide-eyed, mouth hanging open at the shelves opposite where I stand. As if the souls can sense us, the wailing becomes louder and they thrash faster.

“
D
EFINITELY THE RIGHT PLACE.
Let’s get what we came for and get the hell out of here.” Zig snatches my arm, hurrying us down the hall. I wince as his steel-grip bites through the layers of clothing and right into my bones. “Sorry.”