Page 123 of Reaper's Quest

I knocked on his door. No light shone from the crack beneath, and no one answered. Still out searching for Chace.

“Bath,” Earl said from down the hall. He stood beside the open door to the washroom and gestured to the small space beyond. “Bath.”

“Good idea. Thanks, Earl.” I dragged myself into the open room and closed the door behind me.

Earl had filled the tub with water, set a few candles to burn, and imbued the small room with a pleasing lavender aroma.

An idea to summon the Killian started to bloom. I’d drown myself. I didn’t really want to die, or self-harm, but if I could bring myself close enough to death, maybe, just maybe, I could get him to show up, and then I could plead my case.

Could he even help a non-reaper? I’d find out soon. Hopefully.

Gripping the edge of the tub, I crouched and sucked in a deep breath.

You can do this, I told myself.It’s not that big of a deal.

Only it was. It was ahugedeal.

“There’s no other way,” I murmured.

I wasn’t even sure I could drown. But maybe in my weakened state…

My skin still simmered with heat—and stink—from the tunnels and the exertion of dragging Winter.

I slipped my hands along the side of the tub, down into the water. Lukewarm liquid lapped at my sizzling skin?the sensation a glorious release. I wanted to step into the water, clothing and all.

But Winter, a tiny voice nagged at me.

The water around my hands churned and bubbled. Surely, what I saw was a figment of my imagination. In my current state?still healing and now exhausted?I wouldn’t survive boiling temperatures. It could possibly bring my death, and the Killian would come to collect my soul.

But that’s what I wanted, right? The Killian to make an appearance.

“Just do it,” I whispered to myself. “For Winter.”

I yanked the notebook discovered in the tunnel from my pocket, tossed it to a water-free zone, then plunged forward, dunking my head and shoulders into the filled tub.

Bubbles tantalized my skin, and boiling burbles filled my ears, leaching away any external sound. It calmed my burning flesh and maddened mind. I held my breath and waited.

For the Killian. For Death himself.

I waited. And wanted. Wanted for air. For life. Wanted to drag myself free of the water.

My body became frantic with the need. I fought against the desire to yank myself out and breathe the air deep into my lungs before I summoned the Killian or Death.

Before I could fold to a forfeiting desire, I slammed my head forward with all the strength I could muster, smacking hard against the tub floor. A throb sure to leave an ugly lump thundered through my skull. My vision blurred and blackened.

My fight vanished, and water slipped down my throat, bringing with it convulsions…and violent images of what was and what could still be.

Me, a death-seeking wraith, wild with crimson energy.The energies of life and death, of soul-summoning control. A reaper taking ownership of who and what I was.

My heart thrashed, and my body jolted.

Maybe I could have come into such power and become a strong reaper worthy of the family name. But that no longer mattered. I was drowning. Dying to save Winter, and it was all for nothing. The Killian had yet to show.

My body jolted again, choking on the unwanted water flooding my system.

Unaccepted, a foreign voice whispered through my mind.You are not yet ready.

Was it my voice? The Killian’s voice? I didn’t recognize the sound or the meaning, but I thought it clearly male in tone. Even in death, I found no greater understanding.