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I’ll plant this scythe through his forehead if he tries to take her again.
“Okay, Grim,” he finally says. “I’ll let you have her.”
A lightness fills my chest. I feel like I might explode with happiness.
“You will?”
“For a price.”
My stomach sinks. There’s always a catch with the Soul Collector.
“Anything,” I say firmly. “I’ll pay any price for her.”
“Ten souls,” he says in a harsh gruesome tone. “One to replace the girl you stole from me and nine for your disobedience.”
Ten people. I have to kill ten people.
I suck in a breath and nod. I’d burn the world down for her.
“The plane of existence must be put into balance,” he says as he steps back into the darkness. I take a breath of relief when he disappears in the shadows. “Do not disobey me again, Grim. I will not be as understanding the next time.”
The cave rumbles as giant cracks slice through the ceiling. Bright orange light shines down on my shoulders as an ominous invisible grip tightens around my arms. It yanks me up and pulls me back into the plane of existence.
I take a breath of relief as I look around at my surroundings. I’m in a city. It’s nighttime. People talk and laugh as they walk by me, oblivious to my presence. One stressed-out man walks into me and shivers as he passes through my body.
Ten souls I owe. Ten people I have to kill.
For her, I’ll do anything.
But not these humans.
The souls I take will be deserving of death.
The souls I take won’t be missed.
I slide through space and time and appear in front of an old dilapidated house. Racist rock music blasts through the cracked windows and out through the screen door. A Nazi sign is spray-painted on the rotting wood planks next to the stairs that lead up to the tilted porch.
My attention turns to the six guys on the front lawn—shaved heads, swastikas tattooed on their muscular bodies, hate in their rage-filled eyes—and I squeeze the handle of my scythe.
Two of the men are fighting in a savage bare-knuckle fight. The other four are cheering them on.
My attention turns to a scuffle beside the house. Another one of these Nazi pricks is harassing a girl who’s trying to get away. He grabs her arm and pours his can of beer over her head, laughing as she cries and struggles to escape.
This place will do.
There are plenty more inside. The plane of existence will be a little more peaceful once I relieve it of their souls, of their ignorance, of their hate.
I take a step forward, dragging the butt of my scythe on the ground, but then stop.
It doesn’t feel right to bring this otherworldly weapon.
It won’t be a fair fight.
I look at my scythe for a long moment and then hide it in the forest, leaning it against a tree.
This ismyfight formygirl. I’m not bringing the power of the Reapers with me. Not for this.
I charge out of the forest with my hands squeezed into fists. I slide into the physical plane with a cold shiver.
