Page 12 of The Souls Harvest
I grab her shoulders, ignoring the sickening whiff of honey and strawberry wafting from her entire body. “Hey, I’m not saying he refused. But he could. So, just be prepared.” My lips drop into a lopsided smile.
Galen has already declined, but Lucretia is known to be extremely moody.
When she opens her mouth to argue, I let her go and retreat as fast as possible. “I’ll talk to him. Again. Tonight. Promise.” I mark each word with a step away from her narcissistic aura.
“One day, I could be the one deciding your next mission!” she yells at me. Amazing how quickly she’s recovered her stone-cold expression to hide her defeated look from her friends.
I zip up my leather jacket to my chin and pull the hood over my head. I don’t need to be stopped by whoever needs second-hand books or just wants to be seen talking to a senior Reaper. Something rattles in my jacket as I speed up. I distractedly touch my fingers to the object inside my left pocket, hardly suppressing a laugh—hideous heart-shaped sunglasses. Somehow, Galen musthave sneaked them in there. They are atrocious, but they will do the trick and disguise my face.
It’s almost lunchtime when I rest my back against my bedroom door.
I close my eyes and send the glasses flying over what I hope is the bed. I need a moment before facing the mess Galen and I made last night, which is - no doubt - still waiting for me like a loyal cat with scabs—you have to take care of its stinky fur because that is probably your fault.
I wait for the sour stench of rancid leftovers and wine to kick me in the nose…
“You didn’t…” I mouth as I open my right eye first before pushing away from the door in disbelief. There are no books or empty bottles on the floor, and the clothes I threw on a chair last night are now neatly folded on top of my chest of drawers.
“I didn’t even know I had fresh bed sheets!” I exclaim, inhaling the fresh scent of cotton in my room.
A good chunk of Libera’s population would fall at Galen’s feet like overripe plums. I’ve heard so many people praising the tiny silver accents in his left eye, his shiny curls, and perfect skin, as well as his gentle hands and hypnotising voice. But if only they knew him the way I do—he is so much more than that.
I rub a hand across my face, trying to banish the earlier image ofGalen stripping in Popplewish’s corridor. I see why people around us think he’s untouchable. How can they understand who we are when we’re the first ones not knowing what’s between us?
It’d be so easy if I could give it a name.
Shit!Overwhelmed by Galen’s way of saying sorry, I completely forgot I had left the envelope with my next assignment on my desk.Please, please be there…
I hurl myself across the room. My desk looks exactly the same as it did this morning, but with all the objects rearranged tidily. An empty candle jar filled with potpourri, my laptop, pens, and a pile of books, which I thought was wise to start reading simultaneously.
“I swear there was a banana peel here…” I look around, tapping a finger on my bottom lip.
I shrug, giving up the search, and sit down as exhausted as if I’ve just finished a marathon. The corner of an envelope pops out from under a book about Horigeans’ habits and how to look and live like them.
The surprise and worry on Galen’s face earlier this morning were genuine; he didn’t see the assignment, but better safe than sorry. Besides, I don’t even know where Roden is sending me this time. Before rushing to Miss P., I only had time to look at the date of my next jump, thirteen days beforeourbirthday.
At this point, I genuinely hope they’ve picked a nice place. We can’t choose where to go, and all our targets are selected based on our personal experience, age, skills and personalities. When I’m not dealing with Rogues, I turn my attention to those Nistarei whosetime to repay Roden has expired. The image of the young woman with the green dress comes knocking at my brain’s door and runs away before I can understand why.
Popplewish says that every soul can be helpful and has something to give. And I repeat this to myself when I reap a soul and leave behind a walking puppet ready for the Fields. Their souls can still berecycled,even if this is not the correct term or a word I’d use in front of anyone.
I slide my finger under the sticky top of the envelope, and my heart speeds up. I requested, for once, to be assigned to someone who at least tried to use what Roden gave them in the best way possible. I do not want to share my experience during Tydell’s circles, but I need to understand why other Reapers find it so exciting to harvest an almost sinless soul. Where does their need to mourn afterwards come from? Why, even the Deleteri, who don’t see or touch those souls but only guide the empty vessels towards the Fields, prefer to be left alone for some time after a mission?
There have been days when Galen disappeared to deal with his personal demons.
But if I ask him to help me forget all those burnt chests and empty eyes, he will always set aside whatever pain he’s feeling to hold me in his arms for as many nights as I need.
Chapter 6 - Masks
Galen
The doorknob threatens to come off when I barge into Evelyn’s classroom. “Plans haveslightlychanged?” I fight to keep my tone flat, but my voice doesn't obey.
Popplewish steps away from the window, holding a mug. The steam fogs her glasses when she takes a sip. “Keep your voice down, please.”
I take a deep breath. “She’s gone, don’t worry.” I close the door, lock it and lean my back against it. “I take it the sudden decision to change her next crossing wasn’t your idea.”
Her unique trait will never cease to amaze me. Despite the years of missions together, how she walks without making a sound is still a mystery to me.
However, the grace with which she crosses the distance between us enhances the torment on her face: her frown, her tight lips, and her hand slightly shaking when she brings the mug to her lips.
