“Did you need me before I came here?”
“No,” she said, giving me a playful grin. “But your presence here gave me a great idea. Not to mention your devotion and dedication. I know, I hurt your feelings, and we have all the time in the world to talk about it, but for now… I need you to do something for me.”
I let a deep sigh roll out of my chest. It sounded like surrender, and it made her quite happy.
“What do you need me to do?” I asked, worried I might regret this, eventually. This wasn’t how I’d pictured my first meeting with Death unfolding.
“I want you to follow Taeral and his crew. Only intervene if I demand it. I will be able to see them through your eyes, in real time. Everything I’ve learned about them so far has come from other Reapers who’ve noticed or heard them. Without Thieron, I’m afraid I’m not as omniscient as I let people think.”
I blinked several times, quietly repeating her words in my head, trying to make sense of this masked confession of hers. “You want me to follow Taeral.”
“I told you, he’s special. The Hermessi loathe him. He interests me, and I have a feeling he’ll stop at nothing to pull this off,” she said, and chuckled. “Granted, I did put some pressure on him, but… Anyway! The point is, the Hermessi are growing more powerful with every day, and it’s making a mockery of me. Of course, I wouldn’t want to see so many civilizations destroyed, but what irks me the most is the thought of Brendel pulling one over on me. They cannot win, Seeley.”
I nodded slowly, understanding just how superficial she was in this matter. I couldn’t exactly hold it against her. An entity like Death had no sense of time and space, of wrong and right or anything else on that spectrum that I’d once been a part of, along with all the other Reapers. But I could take advantage of her desire to defeat Brendel. Her ego worked in favor of my agenda, after all. Why not go with it?
“Okay, I’ll do it. I will follow them. Before I go, however, I expect some answers,” I said firmly.
“Whatever you want,” Death replied, definitely pleased by my response. I had a feeling she could’ve easily made me do it, instead of asking me so ardently, but I did appreciate the respect she displayed toward me. “As long as you do everything in your power to help them.”
“I should warn you, though, I am limited, even before the Hermessi,” I replied, fearing she might get false hope.
She scowled at me. “Don’t disappoint me, Seeley. I’m well aware that Brendel might still win this. I’ll just be very pissed off if she does, and I’ll have a boatload of Reapers to torment if she succeeds. I’m not getting false hope, I’m simply determined to defeat that flaming bitch!”
Whoa.
With that in mind, I offered a polite bow. “I will do whatever it takes.”
“Remember! Don’t get involved unless I tell you to. When you do, however, I expect your full compliance,” she said. “And you’ll see what I mean about Taeral being special. You’ll see it for yourself, after a while. I have deeper insight into any living creature, but you, my darling, you’ll need a couple of hours around the boy-king of the Fire Star to understand why I’m betting on him.”
I did hope she’d tell me herself, like she’d promised. But even if she didn’t, since she was such a capricious force, I was inclined to trust her on it. Death never did anything unless she wholeheartedly wanted to. She’d seen something in Taeral, something past his future afterlife as a Reaper—enough to make her give him this quest.
All I could do was please her and follow Taeral as she’d asked, so she could see him through my own eyes, at all times. Whether he would succeed or fail on this mission, I didn’t know. Part of me rooted for him, just like I’d told Vesta. I didn’t want the Hermessi to win, either.
I liked these worlds that the creatures had built for themselves, each of them filled with wonder and curiosity and love and anger and the hunger for knowledge. They were complicated beings, each and every one of them, and some got on my nerves, often. But even so, with all their wars and complicated history, they’d breathed life into the universe.
And I dreaded a future in which they didn’t exist. So, yes, I’d give it my best to make sure Brendel didn’t finish the ritual, and the only way I could do this was to support Taeral at Death’s command. It sure beat standing around, helplessly watching the fae spirits as they lost their bodies.
Then again, Death had just greenlit a temporary solution for that, too. Maybe the stars were in Taeral’s favor, after all. Or maybe this was the last flicker of benevolence that the universe had to give, before Brendel blew it all to pieces.
I’d have to wait and see. But I couldn’t deny myself this small luxury of hoping that somehow, someway, Taeral and his crew would bring Thieron back in time.
What’s next? Some news!
Dear Shaddict,
Thank you for reading A Search for Death. I hope you enjoyed it. :)
I have two new releases to share with you!
See the details for the next Shade book, ASOV 74: A Piece of Scythe, right after the following announcement:
On April 29th, 2019, I will be releasing my first ever contemporary romance novel, called A Love that Endures!
It’ll be a new and exciting experience, with plenty of emotions, and characters I think you’ll fall hard for.
Below I have shared with you an exclusive SNEAK PEEK of the first three chapters, so keep turning the pages!:
A Love that Endures
Chapter 1: David
Embankment, London
From the shadows of a stone underpass, a man stepped out into a yellowing pool of old-fashioned lamplight, a round wooden clock clutched in both hands. Before him stretched a dark swathe of cardboard, dim torchlight, and hunched figures—a small colony of makeshift homes perched by the river. It was where the invisibles of Waterloo lived. The residents of the city that the brisk traders, excited tourists, and gallery-goers didn’t want to see.
David’s clothes were as worn-down as those of the rest of the homeless, his hair and thick beard just as unkempt, his name unknown to most. Few Londoners ever stopped to look at him. But if they had, they might have paused for a moment—taken aback by his unusually upright posture. By the stark handsomeness of his face, an angular, arrogant jawline and Roman nose, and his youth, at odds with the rest of his shabby appearance. By the long, elegant fingers, better suited to the keys of a piano than riffling through waste bins.
Eventually, though, the observer would have turned away. The most marked similarity between David and the rest of his kind was all too obvious: the same haunted and defeated look that shadowed his face.
A roll of thunder echoed overhead, and David kept moving. He approached the colony, his eyes fixed on the far corner, where a group of four was huddled in front of a low wall.
“Whoa. It’s…Clock Man?” One of the group—a wiry, plastic-swaddled male—rose from where he’d been crouched, his pale, grime-streaked face stretching into a broad grin.
“Shut up,” David muttered, heading for the short wall.
