Her long, bony fingers reach for me again, but I sidestep her grip.
“No need to be afraid of me.” She tuts. “I simply want tothank you. Without you, my dear, I never would’ve found my precious rings. The old crone who lived here – my sister-in-law – thought she and my do-gooder older brother could hide them from me. Sweetly naïve, those two. The dead tellalltheir secrets, eventually.” Her words are laced with a frigid detachment. “Can’t say I’m sad they both met such tragic ends.”
“But … why?” I ask. “You already have Necroseals of your own. How can you justify killing members of your own family, my sister and those two merchants in the market over a few stupid rings?”
“Stupid rings? Those Necroseals are blood rings, girl!” Her response is visceral, a sudden burst of frustration. She composes herself. “They’re family heirlooms. Cursed and infused with the essence of an extremely powerful ancestor of mine, carrying the final remnants of their powers.”
The Soulreaper waves her hand through the air. Her own Necroseals, engraved with similar geometric runes as the one I gifted Elara, pulsate with energy, a dark haze that swirls in inky patterns. It’s staining the woman’s skin, too, slithering up her fingers, coiling around her wrists and seeping into her veins.
“When my brother died, those rings became rightfully mine. But that vile woman thought she could hide them for ever, cloaked in her foolish little Flora spells.” Her gaze fixes on me suddenly, her expression softening again. “I knew they were here somewhere in the house. But thatSoul Wraith was a pesky thing, constantly getting in the way…”
“You were the one who hired me,” I say, confirming my theory.
“Thank the stars I did. I never expected you to find the rings, but it’s a delicious bonus indeed. When you cracked open that box…” Her steps trace the full length of the sofa, hands anchored on her slender waist. “You at long last revealed them to me. How did you find them, by the way?”
“I felt them. Beneath the floorboards.”
“How fascinating. You must be a powerful Emo, being able to sense an arcane energy such as that of my ancestor.”
“Does anyone else know the old lady’s dead?”
“I highly doubt it,” she purrs. “My brother and that old bat were both hermits. I suppose someone will come sniffing around for her eventually. I’ll be long gone by then, and the Principal Guard won’t have much to go on, will they? That Soul Wraith was also the only thing tying me to this dreary place.”
The Soulreaper tilts her head like a curious bird. “Could you imagine if an Emo soldier had cleansed it and seen the vision? I suppose that’s another way in which you helped me. I must reward you for your trouble.”
“You killed my sister,” I spit. “You call that a reward?”
“Well, no. It’s an unforgiving world, dear girl. And a thief is a thief. But you should know, your sister can still be returned to you.”
A cruel, sharp inhale steals my breath. I swallow hard. A flutter of hope flits through me, and it’s the most magnificent feeling. Then reality makes me crash back down.
She’s lying. She has to be. She’s wicked and heartless and enjoys playing with people’s feelings. To trust her would be a mistake.
All the same, I can’t stop myself from asking, “You … what? That’s not possible.”
“Only to those close-minded enough to believe it is. It’s a dangerous and taxing ritual, and only a handful of Soulreapers have mastered it, but I can return your sister’s soul and breathe life back into her form.”
Bring Elara back? The room spins. People don’t just … come back. It’s death. Final. It has to be a lie, and yet my desperate, naïve self believes her.
“Even if you can bring her back, the High Council would never let you do it. It’ll be against the Soulreaper’s Decree…”
“Dearest, darling girl, haven’t you caught on yet?” She laughs, and it’s a high-pitched, squealing sound. “The High Council can’t touch me! I refuse to play by their autocratic, self-serving decrees. Rules are for those without ambition. And I, as you can see, am brimming with it.”
Confusion burrows into my gut. “Why would you take my sister’s life, only to dangle the promise of bringing her back?”
“Believe me, I never intended to make the offer,” saysthe woman, lowering herself on to the sofa. “But you impress me. I’m thinking … maybe we could strike a deal. Maybe I want something from you in return.”
I stare at her, unmoved.What could she possibly want from me?I’m an orphan, half an Emo who spends her days slaving away in an apothecary, crawling through people’s grubby attics searching for ghosts that go bump in the night.
“I have my ancestor’s rings now.” The Soulreaper sweeps her fingers through the air, making her own Necroseals shimmer and glow. “But what I need is … a wish.”
“What?” A gulp betrays the unease knotting within me. I look at the entry hall. Am I fast enough to make it to the front door? I can’t remember if she locked it behind us.
“Tell me,” she says, swinging one leg over the other, “what are your thoughts on competing in the Reckoning?”
“Very funny,” I say.
“What makes you think I’m joking?” She stands and walks towards me, eyes scanning my frame as if sizing me up. “You’ve not been trained at any of the Principal Academies, correct?”
