Viri was certain her brain was exploding. “You named himWalnut?”
“No,Inamed him Walnut, because he’s mine,” came a new voice, causing Viri to whirl around in time to see a boy her age appear from the hallway. He had an innocent look about him, his blond hair a mess of curls, his blue eyes guileless behind rectangular glasses, his smile bright and seemingly genuine. He even wore a checkered sweater-vest, something Viri had never seen on anyone under the age of fifty.
By all accounts, he seemed harmless, but appearances were deceiving. Viri didn’t need to feel the now-searing heat in her palm to know that a reaper had just entered the room—she could see it in the darkened veins crawling all the way up his forearms, offering undeniable proof of what he was.
Bracing her feet and gripping her fillium tighter, Viri was ready to meet the reaper’s attack. But he barely glanced at her, instead striding straight for Reeve and carefully taking the rabbit from his hands.
“And just to add,” the boy continued, stroking Walnut gently before placing him in the front pocket of his vest, where the bunny quickly shifted to poke his little head out, watching them curiously, “he only likes you most because you feed him all the carrots. Or maybe it’s because of how you smell, like apples and sandalwood—his two favorite things.”
“I doubt that’s how he smells right now,” came another voice, female this time, as a second reaper appeared from the hallway, waving a hand in front of her nose. She was striking, with short purple hair and sharp hazel eyes, and wore beige fighting leathers that showed enough skin to make it impossible to miss theblackened veins spidering along her flesh. “Have you been wearing the same clothes for a week, Reeve? Gross.”
“I had a washbasin.” He crossed his arms. “I’ll have you know that my personal hygiene is exemplary.”
“Exemplary or not,” the purple-haired girl said, “a week without a fresh change of clothes is ick by anyone’s standards. Were they trying to torture you?”
“They offered me another outfit.” Reeve paused. “It clashed with my hair.”
The girl smirked. “By that I assume you mean it wasn’t your preferred color.”
Brushing invisible dirt from his shoulder, Reeve said, “I look best in black. Some people say it matches my soul.”
“You’re a reaper,” Viri said without thinking. “You don’t have a soul.”
All eyes turned to her, and she suddenly remembered she was the only person in the room whowasn’ta reaper. Her grip on her fillium tightened even more, but none of the killers seemed the least bit bothered by the sight of a scarlet-cloaked hunter standing in their midst.
“I suppose introductions are in order,” Reeve said, waving a lazy hand between them. “Sage D’alia, Jonas Flynn, this is Viridia Solace. Careful, she bites. And not in a good way.”
The girl—Sage—snorted, but the boy—Jonas—sent Viri a cheerful smile, adding a goofy wave for good measure.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Viri,” Jonas said, straightening his glasses. His gaze homed in on the weapon she held and lit with pleasure. “Ahh! The legendary fillium! Can I touch it? Please?”
Viri blinked. “What?”
Before she could stop him, Jonas moved close enough to pressa finger to the golden cord, his face instantly paling as a shudder rippled through him. He quickly jumped backward, shaking his hand. “Oh, yes, that’s awful. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.” He shuddered again, but if anything, his smile only widened. “How amazing is magic?”
Viri stared at him, lost for words.
“You’ll have to forgive Jonas,” Reeve said, amusement clear in his voice—along with affection. “He has a scholar’s heart, particularly when it comes to anything to do with the ancient mages and their use of ellixen.”
“If not for, you know,this”—Jonas indicated his blackened veins—“I’d spend every waking hour studying at the university. But with hunters popping in and out on a whim, it’d be too hard to avoid their notice. That, and the Scholars’ Guild has pretty firm rules about who they let enroll.”
Viri continued to stare at him. “You don’t say.”
“No, really, I’ve tried,” Jonas said, missing her sarcasm. “I even wrote a strongly worded letter to Chancellor Reginald, bringing to light the rampant discrimination and emphasizing the need for diversity among students and peers. I never heard back.” He sighed wistfully. “Bigots.”
“It’s their loss,” Sage said, nudging Jonas. “And our gain. What would we do without you and your books and your cleverness helping us to—”
Reeve cleared his throat, and Sage immediately stopped speaking.
“Helping you what?” Viri probed.
Sage ignored her, turning instead to look at Reeve with accusation in her eyes. “What’s she doing here, anyway? I assume there’s a good reason you brought a hunter to Jonas’s apartment?”
“Viri’s not a hunter right now,” Reeve said.
“Um, yes, I am,” Viri corrected, frowning. “I’m always a hunter.”
Jonas was unperturbed, but Sage tensed and shifted her weight, prompting Viri to do the same, her heartbeat quickening as she prepared for an imminent attack.
