“I’m a Bookkeeper.”
No fucking way!How is Angel collecting all these rare mythics?
Bookkeeper: An individual gifted with the knowledge of everything. From each species to different realms. From the supernatural history we know, to the history they kept hush-hush.
“There hasn’t been a human Bookkeeper likeever,” I whisper in awe, staring at her as if she will disappear into thin air.
Now I understand why Seiji was looking at me with those eyes yesterday, because like him I’m waiting for Grace to shit rainbows or something equally magical.
“Before him, I thought I was crazy to know the things I did. Your father offered me a chance to know who I was meant to be.”
I knew Papa had a thing about making sure power and potential are never wasted, but taking in a human girl was maybe a tad bit drastic. But that’s just him.
I’m glad he did, though; I don’t even want to imagine what could’ve happened if she stumbled upon the wrong people who used her gifts to their advantage.
I startle when Seiji abruptly jumps up and in his hurry, he accidentally knocks over a glass vase, and if it wasn’t for Grace whimpering, I would’ve stayed fixed on the broken pieces on the floor. I don’t know what comes over me, but the need to get rid of the trail of blood flowing down Grace’s thigh overcomes me.
I’m crouched in front of her with my palm over her cut before I know what I’m doing. Within seconds, my Divine heals her small cut and I have to wrestle my essence for control as I wipe the blood with a cloth someone passed to me.
All my life, I’ve been immune to the sight of blood but a small trail of hers, and it somehow burned my soul. Only when the last bit of blood is wiped out does my Divine settle back.
First, my brain stops working around Anxo, and now my Divine is acting out of order.
I’m still on the floor when a palm covers my shoulder. The tingle of warmth snaps me out of my daze. Standing with Angel’shelp, I’m still not sure why I did that. What is it about her that sent my Divine into a frenzy?
I’m aware of the compulsive need to help my fellow Horsemen or their mates because that need is engraved into all of us, but considering Grace isn’t a Horseman, I fail to connect that dot.
There’s something about the Bookkeeper’s Divine that’s oddly familiar.But why?
“How did you do that?” Angel asks, walking me back to my seat. Grace’s eyes are fixed on me like she’s trying to figure out what makes me tick, and it’s a little creepy.
“Huh?”
“Reapers can’t heal others, sweetheart.”
“I’m not like others, remember,” I mumble distractedly. Shaking my ‘out of the ordinary’ reaction, I tell them I discovered I could do it when I was young.
The gold essence that circles me isn’t the only difference between Papa and me. Just like healing, I keep a few more things about my Divine to myself.
“Okay, miss,I’m built different.” Seiji straightens with a scoff. “Who wants hot chocolate? Don’t answer that, of course, everyone wants one,” he mumbles to himself on his way to the kitchen but stops to ask me over his shoulder, “Sunshine, do you want marshmallow in yours?”
Do I?I don’t remember how it tasted or how I liked it, so I’m not sure what the correct answer is.
“I don’t know princess. I was in a rat cell for a decade, concussed and dying for the most part. Whatever you make will be much better than what I’m used to.”
His mouth falls open, but no words come out. I start worrying but then Seiji chokes out, “I’m this close to crying.” Pinching his forefinger and thumb dangerously close, he whispers with his voice clogged up, “The poor soul doesn’t know hot chocolate.”
I turn to Angel, worried if I did something wrong. “Is he going to cry because I don’t remember hot chocolate?”
“It’s not your fault. Seiji is just a little sensitive,” Grace offers me a warm smile.
These people smile so easily.It’s weird.
“I’ll go check on the drama queen.” Hazel rushes after Seiji before anyone else can volunteer.
Honestly, I was expecting either Anxo or Grace to offer a shoulder to cry on, but watching how Hazel handles an emotional Seiji with ease only confirms my suspicion.
Hazel is like her daggers, sharp and life-threatening at one end but, beautiful and delicately detailed on the other.
