Page 4 of The Souls Harvest
The jacket is three sizes bigger than mine, but Galen’s body heat still lingers inside.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…Roden didn’t tell me she was so young. I didn’t think it was possible. It’s easier when they’re…”
“Older?”
“Hopeless.”
Galen steps closer, and his left arm brushes my shoulder. “Who told you she wasn’t?”
Our shadows stretch before us. Galen’s, longer than mine, reaches the spot on the kerb where the Nistares sits, shading her completely. As if sensing his presence and what it entails, her body twitches slightly.
“She had a light in her eyes. She was not afraid. And she despised me.”
“They all do, Sof. Nobody likes a Reaper. If you wish to be loved and needed by them, you should have listened to Popplewish and become a Donatore.” He nudges me gently.
I wrap his jacket tighter around me, staring at the woman, her head lolling over her chest.
“And miss the fun of working with you?” I offer an uncertain smile. “Never. But don’t call me that again. You know I don’t like that name.”
The sun, creeping onto the horizon, ignites Galen’s curls with a rich tinge of chocolate while the ends naturally fade to a dark caramel shade.
I step into his shade to avoid being blinded by the light and study his face. “How long have you been spying on me?” I ask, sizing him up.
“What…How?” I enjoy the defeat in his voice as he opens his arms, only to let them fall right after.
I wave a hand in his face, tilting my head back to look him straight in the eyes. “Your hair is soaking wet,” I quickly point at his boots, “And there’s fresh mud on your shoes. There is no way you’ve just landed. You were taking a stroll, waiting for me to be done here, or…”
Galen stares at me for a moment, trying to keep a straight face, but a smirk flashes on his lips.
“Or… I was admiring your talent and how great I am at being your mentor,July.” His voice dragsover the version of my name he knows I prefer.
“You were,” I retort, elbowing his side. “Remember, I graduated one year after you. We’re equal; you only have the privilege of calling yourself senior and having a bigger accommodation. And…” I poke him in the chest, “A bigger ego.”
Initially, he seems puzzled, but then bursts into a roaring, contagious laugh. “If Popplewish could hear you now, she would send you back to training without a second thought.”
For a moment, I set aside who we are and what I’ve just doneand laugh with Galen, but my mind soon travels back to the woman sitting on the cold stones of the alley.
The building where she opened her shop wasn’t there until a year ago. None of the surrounding buildings were. Hundreds of years ago, Cleryce was home to small townhouses with square open roofs, crowded with miniature lemon trees and oleanders, a few shops, and a little market used mainly by the nearby villages.
Nobody wanted to live on The Fields’ outskirts. But recently, the north-western province of Horigos has seemed to attract myriads of desperate Nistarei.
“I’d better go,” I blurt out. I need to go back to Libera and for Galen to take this body away from me before more questions start to tickle my brain.
I make to give him back his jacket, but he adjusts it on my shoulders. “You know you could have more than this. Be more than a Reaper…” His unsaid thoughts linger between us.
We’ve had this conversation many times, but my answer is always the same. “I don’t need to see what happens to them after I’ve done my job. Knowing the theory is already too much.”
I shrug his jacket off before he can say anything else, but he stops me. “I’ll bring yours back to Libera. Keep mine and go home without catching a cold. You know how Popplewish loves a report straight after a mission before the Deleteri clean your mind ofupsettingdetails.” He tilts his head to one side, his hands lingering on my shoulders.
Tiny droplets hang from the locks of hair plastered on hisforehead until one finally decides to slide over the bridge of his straight nose.
He follows its path, crossing his eyes until I give up and huff a laugh. “You’re such a child.”
It takes only a blink of my eyes for his expression to change. His eyes, the left one brown specked with silver, and the right one pale blue, narrow, muting all the light reflected in them, turning almost charcoal as Galen pulls me against his chest and slowly leans forward, nuzzling the curve of my neck.
“You know very well I’m not.” His lips graze my ear. His words are only for me, even if we’re the only people in the street.
I lift my hands to his shoulders and gently push him away, staring at the tips of my boots.As I mumble something nonsensical, I eventually look up with a forced serious expression, and find him biting at his lower lip, one eyebrow arched.
