Page 48 of Reaper’s Curse

I was once a caged and dying creature who struck an accord for the vessel of a brave, smart boy. Only, that creature and the boy had become so profoundly fused, I could no longer distinguish one from the other. A singular Chace was all that was left…whatever that was. Or turned out to be.

“What kind of things have you remembered?” Aoes asked…again. “Do you remember seeing anyone beside the ones you already mentioned when you were held in that underground prison?”

I held my tongue from pointing out that technically the drunkard’s cell was an underground prison. But that was not the prison to which he was referring, and I knew that. The pub manager asked about the time, mere days ago, when I was trapped and tortured.

With the number of times he’d asked about who I had seen, Aoes had tipped his hand. The male was clearly searching for someone while attempting to avoid full disclosure. He was doing a piss-poor job at hiding that fact. He was emotionally invested, his interest clearly far too heavy. The lack of stealth went against his usual composure.

I dipped a washcloth under the water in the bathroom sink and shook my head in response. I had no desire to share the depth of what my words meant—awakening, remembering. Plus, I was far from trusting Aoes with the sensitive details I suspected surrounded my world.

With one long swipe of the cloth, I washed the shaving cream from my skin, revealing a clean face once more. At least I no longer looked the part of the beast I’d recently felt like.

The edges of Aoes’s lips tipped down as he leaned against the bathroom doorframe.

Standing in front of the sink in the tight space, I dampened the cloth once more and wiped any remaining sweat, grime, and foam from my face and neck. A spark of a memory, a place, a street, something inside of the citadel had begun nagging at me, and I would set out shortly to investigate, hopefully unlock the yet-to-reveal-themselves details.

Tossing the washrag to the side, I shoved past Aoes and stalked to the small kitchenette and a tall glass of water. I hadn’t been able to quench my thirst since I’d risen out of the depths of my transformation…or blending…or whatever it was. I couldn’t rightly recall, but I didn’t think my hunter side had ever gone through such a thing before. Had never before needed to abandon one vessel for another.

Only I no longer thought of this body I inhabited as a vessel, or something that temporarily belonged to me. Through the blending with the boy, my other half, the flesh I wore had become a part of who I was. My home. I could no longer fathom forsaking my current skin for another.

Aoes waved his hand, indicating my body. “Your signature is―”

I slammed my hand into the space between us. I didn’t need to be told my energy had changed. Shifted deeper into the hunter I was created to be. I knew. Had suffered through the process.

I poured myself a full, to-the-rim glass of water and gulped it down in one long swallow.

Unlike the communal bathroom on the second floor, the kitchen and bathroom in the underground bunker…spy room…or whatever Aoes wanted to call the place…had running water. According to Aoes, the pipes to the second level were in need of repair and, at present, no longer worked.

Had my reaper team been aware of that fact when we had arrived at the citadel, we might have chosen to lodge at a different location.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Released the breath slowly. Two words in that last thought sent a fissure of pain through my being. Aldine was no longer with the team, and I was not really a reaper, now, was I?

At least, not 100 percent reaper.

The boy, my other half, had been born a reaper, trained as one. But my hunter side…

I snapped my head to the side, as if hearing a call or being slapped on the cheek by the wind. Only nothing was there. No stirring of air, no sound other than the slight shuffle of Aoes’s movements.

Curious.

I swept my gaze over the room and snagged on an item resting on the table. The article had not been there before I’d succumbed to the remembering process.

The detox, as the Killian had called it.

“What is that?” I twisted a pointed finger to the piece in question.

“Oh, that.” Aoes’s back straightened, and he moved to the table and picked up the glove. “Found that under the bed in the room where Raven cured Winter. Figured it was something that belonged to one of you, and since you were so diligently collecting everything that wasn’t clothing, I figured you might want this too.”

He wiggled his hand, and the glove flopped back and forth in his grip.

I stared at the reaper contraband item, of which I knew nothing about. Was the glove the manner in which Raven had managed to heal the afflicted woman?

I shook my head. No. I’d been with her that day in the citadel when she had been rushed, knocked down. She wore no glove at the time.

But had she used it on Winter? My brow arched with that thoughtful consideration.

“Where’s the other one?” I asked, then I jerked taut.

“There was only one,” Aoes replied.