Page 49 of Reaper’s Curse

I barely heard him amongst the rush of thoughts swimming in my head. Yes, gloves almost always came in pairs, but that was not the reason I had asked the question. No, not at all. Some part of me recognized the glove and instinctively knew it should have a mate. But from where did I remember this fact?

A series of thumps and heavy footfalls thundered across the ceiling from the pub above. Aoes darted to the many rudimentary observation controls and pressed an eye to one of the looking glasses, opening several sound tubes.

“Out. Out.” Earl’s voice came booming through the open channel.

Followed by more thumps and bangs…and the croak of a crow. I startled.

“Stupid bird,” Aoes mumbled. “Keeps trying to fly into the pub. We don’t need that kind of crap, but don’t worry. Earl’s gotten real good at scaring it away.”

A crow had been trying to get into the pub?

I pivoted and marched toward the outer hall, where the drunkard cell waited. If a crow kept trying to fly into the pub, then it was likely trying to get to me. Which meant the bird probably carried a reply from Raven.

“Where are you going?” Aoes called after me, but I didn’t bother with a response.

I stalked straight out the door to the tunnel system, climbed the stairs to the pub, and strode through the storage room into the public space beyond.

Earl stood near the door, rubbing the top of his head with one hand and holding a broom in the other. No crow remained in sight.

“Where’s the bird?” I asked.

Earl pointed toward the street beyond the pub entrance. I darted outside but caught no hint of feathers.

Reaping hell.

I turned back to the pub’s entrance, and Aoes’s awaiting stare.

The pub manager crossed his arms and frowned. “What was that all about?”

I huffed a laugh. As if I would tell him.

I strode past Aoes back into the establishment. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do next, but I knew I’d find the answers I sought somewhere else within the citadel walls. I was going to track down some of those answers.

Flashes of places and faces danced through my thoughts as I made my way through the streets of the citadel. If I happened upon one of the locations plaguing my thoughts, then maybe the attached memories would fully take form.

One of the faces my mind appeared hellbent on recalling looked devilishly similar to the individual who had held me captive a mere few days ago. The idea was plausible that the jerk who had taken, kidnapped, and tortured me was involved or even responsible for my previous form’s capture and near death so many years ago.

But the glove? How did that figure into everything?

I shoved my unruly bangs from my face, my forward motion coming to a standstill as my gaze lifted to the building at my side. Now boarded up and appearing every bit abandoned, I held a vague recollection of the place bright with colorful paint and illumination.

I had been here before.

Pinching my brow, I sifted through the fuzzy memories.

I had been here with others. A female and two males. But why? And who were they?

At a full six stories, the structure stood taller than the buildings on either side. I studied the distance to the roof and the various architectural features that offered advantages. As the reaper I was a few days ago, finding my way to the top would have entailed ripping boards free from the building’s face, breaking inside, and seeking a flight of stairs that led the way.

Now…remembering…transforming…I suspected I’d find my path to the top through easier and far quicker means.

A tiny waver in my gut doubted, but a stronger sensation urged me forward.

With three steps back and a dash forward, I leaped and clung and scurried up the building like a gargoyle lizard.

Until I wasn’t.

Midway across the face of the third floor, something gave—my ability to lift myself with practically no holds…or possibly my confidence. I wasn’t sure. But whatever it was that left me without, it didn’t matter. I fell and slammed onto the stone street.