“Herbert?” one of them asked, narrowing his eyes at us. “Is that you?”
“Kill, you haven’t aged a day!” Herbert replied, recognizing the original ghoul. “I don’t know your friends, though. Your group had different members when I last saw you.”
Kill guffawed, throwing his head back. “That was back in the Witches’ Sanctuary, you knob!” He walked toward us, motioning to the others to stay where they were. I didn’t like how close he was getting. Herbert reacted to my fear and took a step back. Kill noticed and stopped, cocking his head to the side. “Don’t worry, man. I don’t bite.”
“I know, I know. You’ll have to forgive this old fool. My social skills are rusty,” Herbert replied. “So, what are you fellas doing here? Where are the others?”
Kill sighed. For a second, I wondered if Kill was his nickname or his real name.
Nickname. I never learned his real name, Herbert said, internally.
“They were caught by a black witch,” Kill said. “She caught our scent, started picking us off, one by one. I got lucky. But anyway, that’s ancient history. I’m here because I found my way through one of the open portals, back in the witches’ dimension. It took me to a place called Calliope. I didn’t stay long there. It was teeming with Reapers.”
“Ah, I see. Then what are you and your friends doing here, on this barren little moon?” Herbert asked. Behind Kill, the other original ghouls were watching, quiet and still very suspicious. It felt as though maybe they could see me or something. They would’ve pounced if that were the case.
From where I stood now, they didn’t strike me as the nearly all-powerful original ghouls that had once founded Nevertide, and nowhere close to the one that my parents had personally dealt with.
They’re significantly weaker, Herbert said, reading my mind. The Nevertide ghouls, as far as I can remember, were very well fed, as far as their… soul diet went. The synergy they created with their sentries allowed them to grow extremely powerful. Most of the original ghouls may be scary, but they’re still just scavengers. Not like Hellswan or his brethren.
His explanation gave me a sliver of relief, knowing now that we weren’t dealing with that particular type of original ghoul, but weaker ones.
“There are fae on Neraka,” Kill said. “In one of their so-called Sanctuaries. We’re waiting for them to die so we can feast.”
“Really? But aren’t they guarded by Reapers, like Calliope?” Herbert replied.
Kill nodded. “Fewer than Calliope, though. My crew and I have planned a way to distract them when the fae finally die. Six of us will keep the Reapers busy, and two of us will pick up lunch from inside the sanctuary.” His cold grin made me shiver. “What the hell brings you all the way here? You’re a degraded ghoul. How’d you even find a portal to get you into this dimension?”
“Oh, I didn’t. I’ve been in the Witches’ Sanctuary since they caught me. One of the warlocks there brought me to Calliope today,” Herbert explained, choosing his words carefully. “I offered him information about Death in exchange for my freedom. It worked.”
Kill and his friends chuckled, exchanging knowing glances. “Yeah, they’re pretty desperate with this whole Hermessi mess,” he said. “I do hope you gave the warlock some good information.”
“I know less than you, Kill, but yes, I told him where to find her,” Herbert replied. “Hopefully, they’ll sort this out before these elemental creeps complete their ritual.”
Kill nodded. “I agree. The last thing we want is the Hermessi wiping out all these creatures. They’ll be cutting off our food supply, too. We’ll all become like you, or worse, if that happens.”
“Why didn’t you reach out to one of these GASP people, then, if that’s how you feel?” Herbert asked, picking up on my thoughts. That was a good question.
“Rule number one, Herbert. No matter what, you don’t talk to the living. You just eat them,” Kill shot back, his tone clipped. “No. Matter. What.”
“I think the circumstances do allow an exception,” Herbert muttered.
“Well, you were obviously there to help them out.” Kill laughed, though I could still sense the resentment. “You didn’t have a choice, so there’s your exception. The same could apply to any of the other ghouls they’re still keeping in the Witches’ Sanctuary.”
I had a feeling the ghouls wouldn’t be all that affected by the end of the world. In my mind, I was doing the math. The Hermessi wiping us all out meant that billions or even trillions of souls would perish. Like Herbert had said, not all Reapers were punctual or careful, and, with such a big number, the ghouls would surely have a feast on their hands. What would’ve stopped them from grabbing as many lost souls as they could, right after this ritual was completed, and storing them for eons to come until new lifeforms sprang from these clean worlds?
Good thinking, Harper. You’re a smart girl. You now understand that, one way or another, the ghouls are set and have zero interest in helping your kind, Herbert thought to me. Of course, it would be easier for them if you people saved the day, but they obviously have a plan B for this, and it’s likely what you just thought of, word for word.
I wondered about the logistics of storing souls for years, but Kill broke my train of thought. “Either way, I suggest you stick around and wait with us,” he said. “You can either help with distracting the Reapers or collecting the souls from inside the sanctuary.”
Herbert nodded slowly. “It’s a tempting offer, thank you.”
“Though, judging by the look on Herbie here, he’d need half that sanctuary just to look like one of us again,” another ghoul said from the back, clearly amused. From what I could tell, the original ghouls sort of looked down on Herbert’s kind.
“You never told me,” Kill continued, his gaze fixed on us, “what brought you right here, to this place.”
“Oh, I was actually looking for you,” Herbert replied. “I remember you knowing more about Death and the reason behind her exile to Mortis. I would like to know more.”
Kill grinned. “I take it you made the connection between this emerging ritual and Death’s absence from the picture?”
“It didn’t take a scientist,” Herbert grumbled, “especially since I remember you and the old crew specifically joking about how Death was in a crappy mood since the first ritual.”
The other ghouls chuckled, prompting Kill to let out another short and cold laugh. It made me tingle on the inside, as if I’d just swallowed a bucket of ice. This wasn’t the laughter of a decent creature. It belonged to an evil monster, despite his polite demeanor. That would’ve changed if he’d become aware of my presence, I was certain of it.
“So… What is it that’s keeping Death away from this obviously ginormous problem?” Herbert asked.
Kill took another step forward, and Herbert moved us back. It made Kill smirk, but he didn’t bring it up. “Have you ever heard of Thieron?” he asked instead, and Herbert shook his head. “But you do remember the Reaper’s scythe. We lose our ability to hold one when we become ghouls, but still, you can admit that they are powerful weapons.”
“They most certainly are, especially in the hands of Reapers,” Herbert said.
“Not so much in the hands of others,” Kill replied. “Some creatures are gifted enough to be able to wield one, but that is more theory than fact because, despite the many scythes lost by Reapers-turned-ghouls over the ages, no one seems to have come across one. Not that I know of, anyway.”
I knew of one now. Taeral. Well, Taeral and his crew. They had Yamani’s scythe.
“Back to your question. Thieron was the name of Death’s scythe,” Kill continued. He paused, anticipating Herbert’s gasp of surprise, which didn’t come out as dramatic as Kill might’ve hoped for. He even seemed a little disappointed. “Death’s scythe is the first scythe, the original. It is an extension of her power. Without it, her abilities are reduced, from what I’m told. Which is why we ghouls can walk these worlds like nobody’s business.”
The information was new and shocking to both Herbert and me. A few questions I’d had in the past had gotten their answer just now. “I’d often wondered why she didn’t just kill us, since we’re repeatedly referred to as unnatural abominations,” Herbert said thoughtfully.
“We’re fast and slippery,” Kill said. “And Death doesn’t have the kind of sprawling omniscience she used to boast. And her Reapers are obviously a little too busy reaping to bother hunting all of us down.”
