Page 2 of The Souls Harvest
It can’t be. She’s too young to bargain her soul. Roden wouldn’t have...
I hastily withdraw the vial and leap away from her, shaking my hair free. It lashes behind me in the wind, leaving my face perfectly visible in the yellow light of the street lamps.
I hate the expression of pleasure on her face caused by my uncontrolled reaction.
A feral grin grows on her lips. “I’ll do it again. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.”
A window screeches above us, and I jerk my head up. Unsteadyfingertips push it open, followed by a head of brown curls.
“Shit!” I snap, pulling my hood back up and bending over the woman to grab her by her arms.
I find it easy to pull her up and turn her to face the wall, but a hiss of discomfort escapes my lips at the view of her bare back, her vertebrae sticking out white under her bruised skin.
Nineteen...
No distractions. Surely Roden won’t discuss it later, but Galen may have the answer I need.
I press my body against hers, sliding a hand over her mouth again. “Don’t try anything reckless. You’re the last soul I’m harvesting today, and I’m not planning casualties because of you.” I whisper in her ear. The aroma of vanilla, sugar, and lemon she’s used to mask the real taste of her delicacies lingers in her hair.
I slowly turn around and move towards the metal door, ignoring her humid laugh against the palm of my hand that muffled her words. “Is this how Harvesters deal with unwanted accidents? You convince yourself that if someone else gets killed during your hunting, it is also our fault, so you can walk away like the perfect beings you think you are?”
“Shut up. You don’t know anything about me.” My voice doesn’t come out as controlled as I would like it.
“Mummy, come look at the sky! It’sprurpel. Nana says that’s when the happy souls come back.” Despite being high above, the child’s voice sounds too close. Dangerously close.
I halt, holding my breath, but the young woman scoffs beneathmy hand. “Happy. What about stolen?”
The vial I concealed beneath my right glove vibrates as if responding to my increasing worry, urging me to stop hesitating.
Another voice comes from above. “Ludo, I’ve told you not to lean out of the window if I’m not around. Come on, breakfast’s ready…”
The window shuts, to my relief.
I’ve already risked too much. I push the woman down the steps and through the dead-end alley before us, where no curious eyes can witness my harvesting ritual.
Nineteen…
She’s only a few years younger than me.
I set her against a brick wall, watching her struggle to remain upright. The green dress, ripped and scorched above her chest, hangs too large on her frame. There are shadows under her cheekbones, and her lips are cracked, as if she hasn’t touched water in days.
“Is this part of your job as well? Staring at your crop with disgust before you killit?” The angry energy in her voice shouldn’t belong to a body so emaciated. “Does it make you feel better?”
“You talk too much.”
“I've got nothing to lose.” A smirk flashes on her face before she starts coughing again.
“You don’t know that,” I blurt out when it’s already too late. I’m not supposed to talk to them. This is why I chose to be a Reaper rather than a Donatore. I cut ties. I don’t want memories.
I curl my fingers around the glass vial. The rain has started to fall again, and every drop that touches its tip sizzles into a whiff of smoke.
My hair has become a dark mass plastered to my back, face and neck, prickling at my skin as if charged with the electricity carried by distant thunder.
She glares at me. “Shut up. You don’t know anything about me,” she says mockingly. But her eyes are starting to grow tired, her lids heavy. “Let’s end it here. Just take what’s not yours and go back to living your superior life.” She tilts her head back against the wall, fidgeting with the burnt dress, ripping the fabric enough to reveal the pale skin beneath.
Her decay started when she accepted Roden’s deal. He promised her money, fame, or perhaps just a nicer house, and like many before her, I’m sure she thought she could pay him back in full while he was safely protecting her most precious bargaining chip—all the kernels of her soul, but one.
I look away, telling myself I’m just checking that nobody is coming. “You could have used the time we gave you to repay your debt without destroying your morals. You could’ve bargained for more time—” The weight of the lies on my tongue chokes me.
