“Partially,” I again echoed, glancing to Johann, who had returned to his scribbling, though he peeked up at me between jotting down names and notes, his stare a pointed one of both fear and warning.
God help us all if he hadn’t debriefed that loudmouthed bird of his on the fine art of keeping his beak shut.
“There is another Fated due tonight,” said Sir White. “Which is why I have been waiting for you.”
And there went my damn plan to get Flora to help me separate out the soul from the others and try shoving him into Cedric just long enough to get answers.
“Johann insists that the issue must be on my end,” said Sir White. “And, at this point, I must agree. For a Fated left to this world would surely have met their end and been delivered by now. I thought, however, if I oversaw your delivery ofthisFated, I could observe its entry into the Basin and, from there, detect any abnormalities in its path. Perhaps, for instance, this Fated might go on a similar detour and, thus, lead me to the missing soul.”
I wasn’t going to get to talk to Idaho. Not if I wanted to keep my ass covered and out of the Black Basin.
Which I needed to do. At least until I could figure out who was trying to get to me through Helena.
Whoelse…
“Makes sense,” I remarked as I left my scythe freestanding in the middle of the room to march toward him and the White Basin, feigning nonchalance, pretending to be completely unbothered and unfazed. Pretending as well that I wasn’t pissed to my limits I wasn’t going to find out how and why another Fated had left that note to Helena. What he knew about Helena’s status, and if Cedric had somehow enlisted him.
“I got it right here,” I said, holding up the hourglass.
Sir White said nothing. Instead, with more unsettling-as-fuck clicking, and an underlying hiss, like the far-off sizzle of the burning flesh of the damned, he lifted one of those metal-encased hands, unfurling silver claws toward the Basins—an invitation for me to do my job.
And I had to—unanswered questions be damned.
When I reached the White Basin, I unscrewed the lid of the hourglass with one skeletal hand.
The souls meant for the White Basin danced in a frenzy as I stood over the vat. Forcing myself to move, to do what I couldn’t avoid, I tipped out the contents, and the top layer of souls went flowing out, the pastel orbs leaping into the swirling mixture.
Cielo’s pale pastel-blue soul came out, and the old man’s spirit splashed into the pearlescent waters.
He swirled away. My last hope for understanding gone.
“Something the matter, Grim?” asked Sir White, another low hiss and a barrage of clicks sounding as he rose.
“Nothing,” I said. Even if the answer was the opposite.
“The Fated,” said Sir White. “I must follow. Rest assured, I will report back.”
“Of course,” I managed.
“Perhaps Cedric will be about when I return,” said Sir White. “A shame I missed him this time. He nearly always has something amusing to say.”
With that, Sir White collapsed into a ball of pale white light—which then zipped into the White Basin with a soundless splash, his throne and table evaporating to mist.
I collapsed, bone knees hitting the marble floor as I hung my head.
Behind me, the scythe toppled as well, clattering loudly through the chamber of the Basins.
“Grim’s hurt!” cried Pluto, taking wing. “Red alert.”
“Grim!” called Johann, who hurried over to me. “What is it, Grim? What has happened? Are you all right? Speak to me.”
“I… should have told him everything,” I said. “But… I can’t.”
“No matter what happens, Grim,” said Johann, “I will not let them send you to the Black Basin.”
Spoken like he really could stop them…
“It’s not the Black Basin anymore,” I murmured. “Fuckthe Black Basin.”
