Personally, I had faith in the former Rimian. He’d lied to us, sure, but I understood why he’d done it, and so did Kalon. Bidding us both farewell, Trev left the room, and I felt a knot forming in my throat. I worried about him, too.

“He’ll be okay,” Kalon murmured, staring at the closed door.

“Yeah. He’s a tough one.”

“Resourceful, too,” Kalon said.

Somehow, we were incredibly awkward together, in this moment, in this room. There was something in the air, perhaps, or a screw loose in our heads… but Kalon and I… we couldn’t even look at each other. My heart was racing, the distance between us shrinking as he moved. I realized exactly what was making this so weird.

I wanted a certain gesture from him. I’d thought about it, though I hadn’t dared to voice it or even dwell on it for too long. But as he walked past me, briefly glancing my way, and as I inhaled his musky scent and felt my skin tingle all over… it hit me. A kiss. What would a kiss be like, coming from his lips? What would it lead to?

Kalon stopped in the doorway, looking at me over his shoulder. “You coming?”

“Where?” I managed, still reeling from that fleeting little thought. A yearning was brewing inside me, but what the hell was I supposed to do with it?

“There’s a full moon tonight. I thought we might do a bit of training in the gardens,” Kalon said. “I doubt I’ll get much sleep until we hear from Trev. Besides, it’s been a while since you and I have had some time alone.”

There was meaning in his words, but I couldn’t bring myself to untangle it, to make sense of it, to identify the hidden emotions he was trying to convey. To be honest, I was simply afraid that I might’ve been overthinking all this. That there was nothing more than a good friendship between us.

Maybe I’d convinced myself that what Kalon and I had transcended the platonic barriers. It had been a while since he and I had had some time alone, though. I wasn’t a fool. I certainly wasn’t going to turn him down.

Smiling, I walked out with him. We headed to the training room first to collect some sparring swords. My heart was already singing, and I had no way of controlling it. Whatever this was between Kalon and me, I would enjoy every second of it, regardless of what it entailed.

Nethissis

For more than two days, I had been running and hiding. Whenever I’d thought I’d escaped that wretched ghoul, it came around. It found me. Every damn time!

The only advantage I had was that I wasn’t tired—not physically. The absence of a body had helped. I didn’t need sleep or food or water… what a crappy silver lining this was, given that I was still running for my life.

I’d roamed through the city from north to south, from east to west. I’d hidden in attics and basements and preserve pantries. I’d screamed for help, but no one had heard me. I couldn’t even move a friggin’ glass to let somebody know that I was there.

My soul was weary. I thought about Rudolph and the other Reapers, not knowing what had become of them. The black guards had Reaper scythes… that meant they must’ve taken them somewhere. Maybe they were being held captive, much like Seeley. Oh, and Seeley! He was probably going insane, not knowing where I’d gone or where Rudolph was.

“What about Death?” I wondered aloud. “No one’s heard from Rudolph. Shouldn’t she be worried? Shouldn’t she be sending more Reapers in? What the hell is she waiting for?!”

I kicked my way through the palace garden gates. The night stretched over the city with its indigo sky and trillions of twinkling stars and that one full pearl-shaped moon. Constantly looking over my shoulder, I allowed myself a deep breath. The ghoul wasn’t anywhere in sight—at least for now. That was better than nothing. Whatever respite I could get, I took it. It was only a matter of time before the bastard would track me down again.

It felt so weird, being on my own like this. There wasn’t a single other lost soul out there. Visio’s veil was thick, yes, but it was also empty. Except for me.

The clanging of swords made my ears twitch.

Somewhere in the middle of the garden, beneath the exterior lamps mounted along the trimmed hedgerows, I could see Esme and Kalon Visentis. They were sparring, using dull swords and dancing around one another, looking for a way in. I smiled, wishing I could just reach out and touch Esme. Wishing I could tell her that I was still here… that I needed her help…

Heartache notwithstanding, I was glad to see her. It meant that she was okay. The way she looked at Kalon when he wasn’t paying attention surprised me. There was longing in those deep green eyes. A wanting. And she seemed worried, too, that maybe Kalon didn’t reciprocate. That was a familiar feeling for me. I’d experienced it a lot since I’d died and seen Seeley again.

But little did Esme know, when she wasn’t looking, Kalon was gazing at her, as well, the corner of his mouth pulled into a secret smile. There was something here, something between them. Something that neither of them dared to act upon.

“Use your feet,” Kalon told her.

“I am using my feet!” she replied, slightly frustrated.

“Well, you’re not using them well enough!” he said, bolting past her and smacking her hind with the width of his blade.

“Ouch!” she screeched, making him laugh, and making herself laugh, as well.

They had no idea that I was out here, trying to find my way back to safety, back into the world of the living. There was no time for me to ponder things, though. No time for me to linger here in the gardens, either. As long as the ghoul wasn’t around, it meant I could at least get back to Seeley.

I’d been running for too long. Maybe Seeley had a solution against the fiend.

Sour as a bad grape, I ran past Esme and Kalon and passed through walls and doors and down secret staircases until the underground maze unraveled before me once more. The darkness. The humidity. The incessant dripping of water. It was all there. Nothing had changed.

I bolted through the main hallway, paying attention to every sound around me. Every growl and hiss from ghouls locked inside some of these charmed cells. Remembering what we’d learned about ghouls during our Death crew missions, it dawned on me… how had these ghouls been brought here?

“Did Zoltan capture you all?” I wondered. “Or did he… make you?”

Suddenly, the latter option—as chilling as it sounded—felt like the greater possibility. It made sense. Maybe that was what had happened to Rudolph and his crew, too. Maybe Zoltan was keeping them hostage, waiting, torturing them?

“How the hell do you make a Reaper into a ghoul?”

That happened if the Reaper in question ate a soul. Then, the process of degradation would be automatic. What were the odds that Zoltan had figured something like that out? And where the hell did he get the knowledge from?

The best way for me to check was to try and speak to one of the ghouls. Ideally not a loose one that might want to eat me. I already had such a specimen tracking me.

I stopped in front of a large iron door—one of many down the hall, with runes carved all over its black and rugged surface. They were present on the lock, as well. But they had no effect on little ol’ me, a wandering spirit. With all the “what if” theories broiling through my head, I needed some answers.

Taking a deep breath, I listened for a while. Someone was inside, whimpering and wailing and scratching at the walls.

It took courage, but I found some in the pit of my consciousness, and I stepped through the door, smiling. I had one suspicion confirmed: none of these cells were warded against a spirit. Which makes sense. If a wandering ghost comes knocking, the ghouls can just gobble them up before they even realize what’s going on.

The room was small, maybe ten feet by ten feet, tops. Water trickled down the black stone walls. The floor was wet, riddled with small puddles. In the middle, a creature sat, legs crossed. It had remnants of a black suit on and a thick iron collar around its neck—a chain connecting it to the wall behind it.

My spiritual heart jumped as the creature looked up at me. Its eyes were big and black, but there were still galaxies inside them. Only… they were fading. One star at a time, but they were definitely fading. Darkening. Devolving.

“Bert,” I managed, recognizing the Reaper.

He wasn’t a Reaper anymore. He had some of his more recognizable features, but his limbs were slimmer, longer… His bones cracked and shifted inside, and he cried out in pain. His skin had lost its matte complexion, gradually becoming translucent, revealing veins and stringy muscle mass.

“Bert. What happened to you?”

He growled and bolted toward me, his long black claws bursting from the tips of his fingers. That was painful, and he cried again and pulled himself back. I was ready to go through the door again, for my own safety.

“He… He made me…” Bert managed, his voice merely a fractured whisper, staring at his hands and crying black tears. The entire sight of him was strange and awful and heartbreaking. The worst part was that I couldn’t do anything to help him. Bert had eaten a soul.

“How?” I asked. “How did he make you eat a soul?”

That was the part that didn’t make sense to me. It wasn’t like Reapers spent an eternity trying not to eat souls. The entire practice of consuming one’s spirit for the first time was entirely voluntary. So how did Zoltan force it upon Bert—and not just him?

“He… He has ways. Get out. Get help.”