Dahlia

  The darkness was my daylight, and mine alone. My eyes picked up on everything in the world around me. Movement down the street caught my eye, and I looked just in time to see the flutter of black material as someone disappeared into a narrow alleyway ahead.

  Got you. I smirked to myself before continuing down the street with cautious, silent strides—with footfalls so silent, a human would never hope to hear me coming. An Imm, on the other hand? I pushed the thought away to avoid acting with fear coursing in my veins, fear that might make me reckless. But Imm hearing was good—that good.

  As I approached the alleyway—ready to react to an attack from within—I heard the barest whisper of a breath behind me. I spun around to find myself face-to-face with the Reaper. My breath caught at the sight of him so close to me. How had he managed to sneak up on me without me noticing until he was only a step away?

  I had been complacent.

  Overconfident in my abilities.

  Considering the Reaper didn’t speak before, I was taken aback when he spoke in a low, gravelly tone I didn’t recognize, “It’s a little late to be out alone. You never know who might be following you—someone dangerous, perhaps.”

  “Someone like you?” I asked breathlessly in a way I knew revealed my fear.

  I looked up at him—surprised by his height now that he was so close to me. He was as tall as an Imm—confirming that he probably was an Imm.

  The thought made my heart race.

  “I’m not dangerous,” the Reaper chuckled, “Well, not to you.”

  My fear eased some, but I tensed as he started to circle me—study me.

  I cleared my throat and found my voice, “I’ve been ordered to find you—for the Imms.”

  He simply laughed and continued to circle me. His dark cloak swayed around him, making only the slightest of rustling noises. His footsteps—steps taken in thin, leather boots—were also silent. Even his breathing was eerily quiet behind his black and white mask—a painted, wooden mask, by the looks of it. The only visible part of his flesh was his eyes tonight—two, golden-brown eyes that weren’t uncommon in the Red.

  The Reaper was impressive. He knew how to sneak around and conceal himself.

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  I tried again, “The Imms are offering a lot of money to the person who identifies you.”

  “And?” He chuckled again.

  I felt my eyebrows furrow, “You’re in danger! The whole city is looking for you.”

  “They won’t find me—only you can do that. Isn’t that right—”

  He leaned down to speak into my ear as he continued to slowly circle me, giving me chills as he lowered his voice to a dark whisper so low, I almost didn’t hear him, “—Halfling.”

  I shuddered at the sound of the word on his lips, but shook my head as I tried to lighten the sudden, tense air between us that felt almost suffocating. “Has anyone told you that you have a sexy voice? It really suits this dark and mysterious nature of yours. I bet you carry those swords to stop women from throwing themselves at you all the time.”

  “You like that?” He didn’t laugh like I’d hoped, but he sounded amused again as he gracefully finished his third circle around where I stood and came to a stop right in front of me, “I think you’re fond of me—fond of my work, Dahlia Reed.”

  Reed—my father’s family name. Only Mathy knew this name, and she would never dare repeat it.

  “How do you—” I hissed—taking a nervous step back now, “It’s Vita. Dahlia Vita.”

  “Don’t bother lying, dear. I know everything about you—too much about you and the questionable decisions you make,” the Reaper interrupted as he took a step towards me, “But what I don’t know is if you’re going to let that human blackmail you. Are you so afraid of your own identity that you would give up your…what was the term?”

  He lifted a finger to the chin of his mask in a caricature of a person thinking and snapped his fingers, “Oh, that’s right! Principles.”

  I was struck speechless.

  Had he overheard my conversation with Ferro?

  I opened my mouth to try to speak, but the Reaper placed a finger to his lips, “Shh.”

  He raised his other hand to my face and stroked my cheek gently—as gentle as a man might touch the woman he loved. I started to pull away, but then I felt a familiar jolt—a feeling I’d never forget for as long as I lived.

  Suddenly, it was as if I’d known him forever—like there was some invisible tether now connecting us and pulling us together. This feeling was so much like the feeling I had every time I was around Hawthorne, that I almost believed the Reaper was Hawthorne.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” he murmured before stepping back with far less confidence than before.

  “You felt that too?” I asked, breathless, once again, but this time I was breathless from my own bewilderment.

  What in the name of the Imm God was this connection between us, and why was it so much like my connection with Hawthorne? Was fate playing some sort of cruel joke on me? I had no business tethering myself to such dangerous men. I liked safe men—men I could protect myself from, if needed. Hawthorne and this Reaper were not safe men. I had no doubt they could hurt me—kill me even.

  The Reaper shook his head as if to clear it before he turned and started to walk away in long, purposeful strides. I felt a strange disappointment wash over me as the distance between us grew. He started to turn around the corner onto one of the side streets, but then he paused and looked back at me, the smooth material of his mask flashing in the light of a nearby window. And with that movement and the set of his shoulders, I could see that his confidence had returned.

  “Yes, Dahlia. I felt it too.”

  And that was all he said before the Reaper disappeared into the night.

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