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I struggle against him, kicking and trying to get to my scythe. I'm not sure what I'll do with it when I get it, but it'll be good to be armed.
Unfortunately, it seems like the men have had the same idea, and the other one grabs it from my back.
I feel bereft without it. Like I'm less capable of retaining who I am.
I have to hope that isn't true, but I'm scared to find out.
11
I study the room around me, trying to figure out what my chances of making a run for it are. I slump back in the chair. There's no point. I'm not a fool. Even if I manage to get out of the room, there are going to be people waiting outside it. And there are dozens of twists and turns in the house before I can get to the exit and out onto the street. Without being sure that I have a free run at the door, and access to my scythe so I can defend myself, there's no point even attempting to escape.
I need to bide my time and wait for a better opportunity. One's bound to come along. They can't keep me locked up in an office forever.
As if summoned by my thoughts, the door clicks and swings open. A thin man with dark hair and a surprisingly welcoming face steps into the room and takes the seat opposite me. The desk between us doesn't create nearly as much of a barrier as I want it to.
"Syxe Weston." He draws my name out as if this is the first time he's said it out loud. "You've been causing a lot of problems."
"I don't see any," I counter. "I was asked to take the Shadow Oath, I declined and went back to my life. That's not a problem, it's a choice."
He chuckles. "I see what Ms Margery means about you having a mouth on you. I'm surprised she didn't scare it out of you."
"She tried." I fold my arms. "But she underestimated me. A lot of people do."
"And you're implying I'm one of them." He nods his head as if understanding something.
"I said nothing of the sort. But if you think you're guilty of that, then you must be."
"How is one eighteen-year-old reaper causing so many problems for my Association?"
His? Interesting. So I've been sent right to the top. They really must think I'm causing trouble.
"What kind of problems am I causing?" I ask. "I didn't take the Shadow Oath, I don't owe anything to the Association."
"That's not true." He gets to his feet and makes his way over to a cabinet.
I watch with mild interest as he pulls open a draw and gets out a sheet of paper. He returns to the desk and sets it down in front of me before seating himself again.
With caution, I lift the sheet of paper from the table and scan it. My blood turns cold.
This is not good.
"As you can see, you do owe something to the Shadow Association." It's hard to ignore the glee on his face.
"I can't owe my life to anyone, this isn't legally binding." My words come out shaky, but that's to be expected.
"I think you'll find that you do. You see, your mother made the Shadow Oath when she joined us."
"My mother," I echo. I know what he's saying is true, I can see it on the paper in front of me, but that doesn't make it easier to swallow.
"Yes. Anna Weston wasn't in the best of shape when we found her. She'd been living in the City of Blood for a decade, and that does something to a person. The things she must have seen..."
I don't engage with the statement. Partly because I don't have enough knowledge of the inner workings of the city to make a judgement, but mostly because I don't want him to stop telling me about my mother.
"She escaped. No one knows how, she didn't talk about it when she got here. We believe she spent a month or two on the streets once she got out, by which point she was heavily pregnant with you."
My heart aches for the woman I never knew. Even if she technically signed my life away to the organisation that's now trying to claim they own me, she clearly did it under duress.
Hopefully, that's something I can use to invalidate this stupid contract if I need to.
