Dahlia

  When the sound of the cart became nothing but an echo in the distance, the Reaper placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you in shock?”

  I’d been so lost in my thoughts, I’d almost forgotten about him.

  I pushed his hand away and rose to stand, turning to face him as I replied, “No—I just don’t know what to do next.”

  “Meaning?” The Reaper pressed as he stood to his full height—towering over me once again.

  The calm—almost teasing—tone he used seemed inappropriate, given what we’d just witnessed. It was as if what we’d just seen didn’t affect him in the slightest. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe the Reaper had seen worse. Maybe he knew what happened to the children taken in the night, and it was so terrible that death itself was nothing in comparison.

  Waiting for my explanation, The Reaper stepped closer—his form just inches from mine now. His nearness left me flustered, my emotions jumbled. I felt something like desire threaten to overshadow the horror of what I’d just seen. It was all too much. The death. The connection I felt with this man. The Predictor secrets. It was all too overwhelming.

  “What the hell is someone supposed to do after seeing that?” I shouted—pushing him back to give me more space to just breathe.

  “You kill the bastards responsible for this,” the Reaper shrugged as he raised a hand to the place I had touched him as if he could still feel the sensation there, “The Predictors—kill the members of their council one by one, so the ones still living are left to wonder when it will be their turn. Make them suffer while they wait for their own deaths.”

  I didn’t know what I’d expected him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. And he spoke it so nonchalantly, too, as if it were the obvious answer to my question.

  “That’s what you would do?” I scoffed, “Murder everyone when we don’t even know who is responsible or why they killed those people? Those Predictors are our government! We can’t just kill them! Think of the consequences.”

  “Then start a new government—a better one that doesn’t murder innocent people.” The Reaper casually pulled out a dagger and began to twirl it in his hand absently as he explained, “Anyways, I find that once you start killing people in search of answers, the rest start talking, not that I’d spare them for giving me the information, but it’s okay to let them think they’ll live—effective, even. You’ll find the people responsible in no time.”

  I stared blankly at the dark creature before me. He was insane—there was no other word to describe him. We didn’t know that these people were innocent, and he was already coming up with plans to kill off the Council in retaliation for their deaths. We didn’t even know that the Council was responsible. For all we knew, one of the Predictors had gone rogue.

  “I’m not going to murder people like that,” I started towards the fence—needing space from the masked lunatic, “I don’t even know that I’m going to intervene in…”

  I paused to wave a hand at the altar, “…whatever this is.”

  “So, you’re just going to turn your back on yet another problem?” the Reaper growled, stepping forward threateningly, “When are you going to stop being a coward, Dahlia? You have so much potential and talent, and it’s wasted on you!”

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  My temper flared—an Imm-like instinct to destroy now churned within me and blotted out my other emotions. I whirled, sword drawn, and ripped away my cloth mask to bare my teeth at the masked figure in warning, “I’ve never claimed to be a hero!”

  “Because you aren’t!” He drew his own sword as if prepared to fight me, “You’ve ignored the Imms here—the children going missing—for years! You do nothing but train to defend yourself and fight to make Ferro’s business more profitable! Think of what difference you could make if you took a stand—what we could do together!”

  Together. Part of me liked the sound of that—the same, irrational part that sometimes fantasized about taking the Reaper into my bed. Good thing I didn’t listen to that part of me.

  “What difference?” I laughed at his foolishness, “We don’t stand a chance against the full might of the Imms!”

  He laughed humorlessly, “Tell that to the dozens of children I’ve saved from them here in Firen.”

  I heard the groan of his leather gloves as his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. He shook with rage—his anger matching my own, now. I could only hope he wouldn’t try to take out his fury on me. That wasn’t a fight I wanted to have, especially not with him and not over this argument.

  “Actually,” the Reaper stepped forward and lowered his voice, “Tell that to the children you could’ve saved from the Imms, but instead, you stood by like a coward.”

  Erich’s face crept into my mind, and I felt a familiar wave of grief threaten to overcome me.

  “Fuck off,” I seethed through gritted teeth as his words struck me harder than any blow from a sword.

  I was a coward. I knew that, but it still hurt to hear it aloud. It hurt to admit he was right. I probably could’ve helped a lot of those children—children like Erich.

  The Reaper stood up straighter and stared at me for a long moment as if sizing me up before sighing, “Fine. Leave the children to become victims of these Imms if that’s what you want. I will fight that battle alone. But remember, you have a good reason to stop the Predictors, Dahlia—a personal reason to stop them.”

  I felt my stomach churn as I wondered what else the Reaper knew about me. “And what’s that?”

  He slid his sword into its sheath at his back and glared at me through his gleaming mask, “Because for all you know, Carmen could be their next victim.”

  The sound of my friend's name sent a shock of fear through me.

  I felt a lump in my throat, but I swallowed it down before whispering, “How do you know about her?”

  He chuckled, though he didn’t sound amused in the slightest, “I know everything about you—you can’t hide from me, Halfling. You could travel worlds away from here, and I’d still find you.”

  I'd still find you. The words echoed in my mind.

  He began to back away as I shook my head and snarled, “Who the hell are you? What do you want with me? Why don’t you just leave me alone if you think so little of me?”

  “Why?” he laughed, “Is it becoming tempting to turn me in? Don’t tell me you want to help the Imms? Is this about that fancy dagger Portia has waiting for you? I’d like to think I’m worth more to you than a dagger, Dahlia.”

  He knew too much. It was unsettling—disturbing, even. How closely was this man watching me, and why? His scrutiny wasn’t perfect—he didn’t seem to know I’d already stolen that fancy dagger—but it was still troubling.

  “You’re stalking me,” I murmured as I stepped back—unsettled by the realization.

  His laugh turned dark—ominous even, “No—not stalking. But know this, Dahlia. Ever since that night I first touched you, you’re constantly in my thoughts. It’s maddening.”

  I didn't want to hear that—to know that he was just as affected by this connection between us.

  “I’m tempted to turn you in just to get you to shut up and leave me alone,” I muttered as I started in the direction of the fence—not as bothered by his admission as I should have been.

  “Do that, and I may just have to kill you, Halfling,” the Reaper whispered—barely audible over the sound of the leaves fluttering in the light wind.

  I turned to argue, and found myself staring into open air.

  He was gone. He simply disappeared into the shadows of the forest as though he was never there to begin with—as though he was a true apparition of the night. But I still felt the connection between us and the weight of his words.

  The Reaper may have disappeared, but his threat lingered there in the forest with me. I didn’t doubt he would kill me if I became a threat to him, regardless of our connection. After all, killing was what the Reaper did best.