Silver Reaper

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

‘How is the investigation going?’ I asked, before Sam could break the silence.

He ran a hand through his close cropped brown hair, hazel eyes shadowed as he shook his head. ‘We still have no clue who the men were or what killed them, and no one has filed a missing person’s report fitting either of their descriptions.’

Four days ago, squatters had stumbled across two dead bodies in an abandoned house on Easton’s northern outskirts. Both bodies showed evidence of having been restrained and possibly tortured, suggesting it was a double homicide. Sam had been called in to investigate but had been left with more questions than answers.

I had only one question. I was the reaper for Easton, and yet I had not been called to reap the souls of these men.

If I hadn’t reaped them, who had?

Goose bumps peppered my skin as I exited the shopping centre. The midday sun did little to warm me as Sam and I walked to where my car was parked.

‘I have to get back to the station. Are you going to be okay?’

I nodded, a wry smile curving my lips. ‘Of course. Watching people die is an occupational hazard for a reaper.’

‘Tyler.’ He moved in close, one hand coming up to caress my cheek. ‘I know you hate not being able to help people, but you can’t save them all.’

‘I haven’t saved any of them.’ That was the problem. But it was my problem, not Sam’s. ‘You better get going. I’ll head home and get an early start on my next assessment piece.’

Studying journalism part-time while working full-time in the office for the Easton Chronicle required me to stay ahead of my study commitments. I hated being rushed so was currently up-to-date, which meant I should have been able to spend this month’s rostered-day-off relaxing. After what I’d just witnessed, relaxing was the farthest thing from my mind. Much better to delve into the world of digital journalism in the multi-media age than to dwell on a young life cut short.

I kissed Sam goodbye, fished my sunglasses out of my bag, and got into my car. I gave him a wave and managed a bright smile as I drove away, a smile that faded as soon as he was out of sight. Asking Sam about his investigation had brought back my uneasiness at knowing there was at least one other reaper operating in Easton.

Part of my job at the Chronicle was to compile Death Notices.

Up until the discovery of the two deaths Sam was investigating, each notice had lined up with the souls I had reaped. I’d been busy, often called to reap at inopportune times, but had managed to do my duty without making anyone suspicious. It was not an easy task when my body would appear to be unconscious while my astral form was roaming the astral plane to reach my client.

Had the Grim Reaper assigned another reaper to Easton to ease my work load?

When Jonathon Grimm trapped me into becoming a reaper I’d immediately incurred a soul quota of one thousand. What he didn’t tell me until after I’d reaped the soul of the wraith that had murdered me was how each illegitimate reaping added another one thousand souls to my quota.

During the weeks when I fought to stop Grimm’s master, Almorthanos, escaping from Demania and enslaving mankind, I had been forced to reap the souls of over a dozen wraiths. With such a large soul quota, it would take me years to fulfil my contract and finally get my life back. That task would take even longer if another reaper was called to reap souls I would normally be assigned.

Not that I wanted people to die so I could fulfil my contract sooner. I just didn’t want to be a reaper for one minute longer than I had to. Easing the passing of the dying and sending their souls on to rebirth was all well and good, but bearing witness to so much death was not pleasant. As much as I tried to focus on the positives, I was convinced I’d be surrounded by death right up until the day I died.

If my quota wasn’t complete, I wouldn’t be free even then.

As if to remind me of the chain Grimm had shackled me with, the hollow below my neck went cold soon after I walked inside the house Sam and I had moved into a month ago. I dropped my bag on the floor beside the dark grey chaise lounge and lay down, ready to take astral form. I focused on the draw of my client, wings unfurling behind me as I slipped free of my physical body and into the astral plane.

The call to reap drew me to the northern outskirts of town, and as I neared the street where the unidentified bodies had been found, a tremor swept through me. Relief I wasn’t drawn to the house where they had been discovered faded when the call took me into its overgrown backyard.

Rusted vehicle shells and large chunks of machinery were jumbled in among dead tree branches, all of which were virtually obscured by metre high swathes of grass. It was an urban jungle, and my client was somewhere in the middle of it.

Grateful for my astral form, I slipped through the barrier made of metal and greenery, wings retracting as I floated to the back corner of the yard.

My client lay on his side, half-n***d body covered in a b****y mess of grass and dirt. He was facing me, eyes open but unfocused. Blood from numerous cuts obscured his features. His eyelids fluttered to a close as he let out a low moan and rolled onto his stomach. I put out my hand, ready to call his soul, but froze when I saw his back.

Two long scars ran down both shoulder blades.

I’d seen scars like these before, on Tr’lirians who’d lost their wings. Thick and raised, still slightly red, these scars looked too new to have been made years ago.

Had this man been one of the many who’d lost their wings during the fight between Almorthanos and Cade’s forces? If so, whose side had he been on?

Not that his allegiance would change the outcome of his reaping. As he took a last stuttering breath I called his soul to me and sent him on the way to rebirth.

Duty fulfilled, I slipped out of the backyard jungle, unfurled my wings and headed back to my body. As I flew over Easton, I thought about the implications of a wingless Tr’lirian dying in the yard of a house where two other unidentified bodies had been found.

Sam was well aware of what happened to Tr’lirians when they lost their immortality. If the two unidentified bodies had had the same scars he would have come to the same conclusion as me.

I had to go to see Killian.