Page 19 of Veil of Death and Shadow (Order of Reapers #1)

19

MAREENA

Present Day

T he air was dry, laced with the tangy scent of driftwood and brine. And there, just on the edges, I could make out the soothing smell of attar and just a hint of mint. I took a deep breath, savoring the taste across my tongue, the way it filled me up, the way it made me whole.

Hazy shards of sunlight pierced through the window, framing the room in a kaleidoscope of colors.

I knew this room. And I knew it deeply. Knew the pale blue stripes of the comforter that had faded from years of washing, the poorly traced cedar trees painted along the far wall. Knew not to step on the plank of wood just before the doorway if I didn’t want to announce my presence; that if I looked under the bed, I’d find a stash of books I kept hidden but still in reach, so that I could read late into the night when I was supposed to be asleep. Knew that if I opened the window, I’d hear the familiar song of the waves down the road as they crashed their greeting into the shoreline.

And in my palm, I knew that the tarnished loop of metal that rested there, tied me to this place, to this life, to this time—even though I couldn’t understand why or how.

Pocketing the ring, I leapt over the door frame and out into the hall, my heart racing at the possibility that I was back, that she was here.

“Amto,” I yelled, and my voice echoed out higher and more youthful than I was used to—and the laughter that spilled out at the shock of it only sharpened the strangeness. “Amto Am ? —”

Her name died on my tongue when she came into view.

Just as I remembered, but somehow still different.

Her gray hair, wiry yet soft, was pulled back against her neck, a few stray curls loose around her face. She had her linen sleeves bunched up to her elbows, the tawny-brown shade of her skin luminous against the sharp white fabric.

There was a large mat on the counter in front of her, where she was busy separating, stuffing, and rolling the grape leaves, her fingers moving seamlessly through the process, like she’d spent a lifetime perfecting it.

The faintest hum of a long-forgotten song trailed through the room, cutting off only when she looked up and spotted me watching her.

Her crooked smile made my breath catch.

“There you are, habibti, I thought you might sleep the entire day away.” Her voice still had the soft, melodic cadence it always did, with the unexpected sharp edge that caught strangers by surprise and added a layer of depth to it.

“I’m awake,” was all that I managed. I couldn’t pull my eyes from hers. They were large and brown, and just as warm as I remembered them being. Just as welcoming. Just as wise. “I’m here now.”

“Good,” she nodded, “that’s good. We’ll take a walk in a few minutes. It’s a beautiful day.” She pointed her finger at me. It was smudged with tomato paste. A knowing smile carved across her lips, revealing the small chip in the corner of her front tooth. “Lucky girl—a beautiful day to celebrate a birthday.”

And just like that, my stomach sank, though I couldn’t fully understand why.

I thumbed the ring out of my pocket, my gaze caught between trying to soak up as much of Amto Amani as I could and staring at this ring, trying to remember why it was important. Why it kept stealing my focus.

When I looked back up at her, she wasn’t alone.

“You.” My voice came out a deep bellow, filled with all the threat and dread I could muster at ten years old. “Leave this place.”

A man, with hair as black as the abyss and eyes the shade of crystallized amber stood behind her, his head hovering over hers as his unnatural stare met mine. There was no emotion on his face, no regret and no sorrow.

Something about him was so familiar, the recognition like a bolt through my chest, though I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him before.

He slid his hand through her chest as if she was made of nothing more solid than air, and then she crumbled at his feet, the tray of grape leaves tumbling to the floor and scattering all around her.

“No,” I screamed and fought to run to her, but my feet refused to carry me. Instead, they stood there, useless blocks of cement, leaving me with no other option but to scream and cry from afar.

“It’s not your time,” the man said, his emotionless eyes locked on mine as he drained her of her life, “but it will be one day.”

This. This moment was where I recognized him from. Those eyes haunted this day with the persistence of a predator.

“Amto Amani,” I screamed, her name on my lips more the screech and metallic wail of a feral thing, than the cries of a young girl. I bent over, tried my best at clawing myself forward, hopeful that if my feet wouldn’t obey me, my talons might. “Don’t touch her.”

But the man paid me no more heed, his focus now funneled to the task at hand. And when he was done, he left without a passing glance, leaving me alone and fumbling over a broken corpse.

Death was only good for one thing—an empty, relentless hunger—and when he demanded a meal, it was best served in cold blood.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” a deep, rumbling voice vibrated into my back, jangling against my ribs. “Breathe, Agony. Breathe. It was just a dream.”

I choked on the whiplash of being pulled from that scene to this one. My bedding had tumbled to the floor, and my skin was caked in sticky sweat.

My arms flailed in front of me, searching for Amto Amani, but I couldn’t move.

“Breathe,” the voice said again, its whisper a soft caress at the shell of my ear.

Light poured through the window, and when I glanced up, I noticed Menace standing on my dresser, watching me, unsure whether to approach.

My body was caged between two strong, tattooed arms, and my heart beat a heavy protest against their firm grip.

Slowly, they relented, and I took advantage of the sudden freedom, scooting to the edge of my bed.

I brushed my hair from my eyes, wincing at how slick my skin was, and then froze when I saw him. “Kieran?”

His eyes were hard as they darted between mine, his face edged with concern. He lifted his hands between us, as if approaching a timid animal, and sat up. “You were having a nightmare.”

I nodded.

It was a frequent nightmare—one with a thousand variations and shifts, though the ending was always the same.

Always that man. Always those eyes. And always Amto Amani’s empty shell.

“Did you stay here all night?” I asked, not bothering to keep the accusation from my voice.

He winced. “When you fell asleep, you shifted onto my chest, and I didn’t want to wake you.” He ran his hand through his rumpled hair, looking suddenly shy. “I waited for a while, but then I guess I . . . dozed off, too.” The corner of his lips dipped as he stared at my pillow. “It wasn’t planned. I don’t usually sleep much in this realm.”

I stood, feeling self-conscious of the silk shorts and baggy t-shirt, and the clear bird’s nest that was my hair.

Without glancing back at him, I walked over to Menace and stroked the back of his head. “Morning.”

He nipped affectionately at my finger, and followed me to my door, flying through it the moment I opened it and straight towards his bowl of treats.

Honestly, I was surprised to find him in my bedroom. Menace was usually skittish around strangers, but he seemed to be warming up quickly to Keiran.

The apartment was quiet, unusually so.

Judging by the fact that I hadn’t been awoken by an alarm, and the digital clock on the stove was out, there had been another power surge.

It was rare for me to sleep this late.

I ran to Sora’s room, to see if she’d overslept, too, but it was empty.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I charged into the restaurant, expecting to find her behind the counter, the chaos of the breakfast rush slowly dissipating. Without electricity, it would have been an unexciting meal, but we kept provisions on hand to keep the people fed when our cooking resources were limited.

But the restaurant was empty, shaded by the blinds still pulled over the window, the entire room looking just as it had when I’d closed everything down last night.

She hadn’t opened it this morning.

My racing pulse leftover from the dream now had a new source of fear to fuel it.

When I turned around, ready to call up to him, I collided with his chest instead.

“She didn’t come home last night,” I said, fighting back the waver in my voice.

Kieran eyed me for a moment, his stare roving over the diner as if I just hadn’t looked hard enough. Something hardened in his features, and he nodded, his gaze returning to me. “Go get ready, we’ll look for her.”

Half an hour later, we stood outside the entrance to the market. The single optimistic bone that I had in my body suggested that maybe she was here. I usually opened the diner on Thursdays, and Sora usually spent the morning wading through the market stalls, finding new ingredients we could work into the weekend’s menu.

Maybe she was here. Maybe she decided it was best to close until the electricity was back up and take care of this in the meantime.

Generally, I avoided coming down here. The place was always packed and full of people, demon and human—all of them bartering for resources in a more tension-filled echo of what Seattle’s market culture used to look like.

When phones and the internet became unreliable and unreasonably expensive, I found myself almost glad to be rid of the distraction—the permission to unplug and engage more on a local level had been unexpectedly welcome. Right now, I would give anything for my old phone, and the option to reach Sora in two seconds flat.

“Well,” Kieran said, surveying the bustling crowd, “at least she has blue hair. That’ll make her easier to pick out.”

“Why didn’t I bring a fucking picture of her?” I sighed. “Could’ve shown people, asked if they’d seen her recently.”

For fifteen minutes, I went stall-to-stall, asking the artisans and customers if they’d seen Sora—if they knew who she was—while Kieran acted as an invisible sentinel, his eyes hunting for that recognizable ball of blue hair and energy. But the people here didn’t know me, didn’t trust me, and if they had seen Sora, they weren’t interested in telling me as much.

My chest was tight, my fists clenched, as I fought back the impending wave of panic that I’d been trying to suffocate all morning. This was useless.

Where else could she be? Where would she have gone?

Did she go see the new girl she’d been dating, the one she met at the club? But I didn’t even know her name, or where she lived. I didn’t know where to even start.

“You owe me four weeks’ worth,” a tall, muscular man barked at a stall next to us. “I’ve been unreasonably patient.”

A much smaller man, with deep red hair and emerald green eyes winced, nodding so intensely that he looked like one of those old bobblehead dolls. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

The angry man grabbed the bobblehead by the front of his shirt, tugging him forward until they were nose-to-nose. “Patience isn’t one of my virtues, Rex. Where’s the pendant? I’ll take that as payment.”

“Rex,” I whispered, the name sparking some faded memory.

Wasn’t that Sora’s new market friend?

The one who’d gotten us on the list for Incendiary?

“Hey,” I said, louder this time.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kieran asked, his eyes wide with shock.

“What?” The burly guy turned towards me, dragging Rex along by his neck.

“Let him go,” I said.

Kieran sighed, his mouth tight. “Never mind. Why did I ask? Of course you’re picking a fight with the biggest, scariest looking guy in a two-mile radius. Why would you be doing anything else?”

“Be quiet.” I glared at him.

The bully wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Didn’t say anything.”

“Not you,” I shot back, quickly losing my temper.

“Not even a single ounce of self-preservation does she have.” Kieran sighed. “Of course, this is the girl I’d get saddled with looking out for.”

“No one asked you to follow me,” I said, then turning to Rex and ignoring the bully altogether, I asked, “Have you seen my roommate, Sora?”

“No one asked me, actually. I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.” Kieran’s jaw was tight as he studied the two men in front of me. “And in case you forgot, I can’t touch them. Which means that I can’t protect you.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. Are you trying to get yourself killed? Because there are less messy ways.”

“Don’t know her,” Rex said, his voice a wheeze.

I narrowed my eyes on him. “I don’t believe you.”

“You shouldn’t,” the bully said, his face smug, “he’s a liar and thief. Now if you’ll excuse us?—”

“Was she here today?” I balled my fingers into a fist. “Did you see her last night? She didn’t come home, and I’m worried about her.” Maybe appealing to his own fear would help my case. Sora had called this man a friend, hadn’t she?

He shook his head, though the movement was stilted by the man’s grip on him. “Like I said, don’t know your friend. Now get out of here.”

I took a deep breath. “One more chance, Rex. Do you know where she might be? I’m not messing around.”

“I said beat it,” he snapped, his eyes dark and filled with malice when they landed on mine.

“Fine.” I pulled back my arm and surged my fist forward, focusing on the follow-through when it met with his freckled nose. It already had a bump, like it had been broken once or twice before, so hopefully I didn’t do any added permanent damage.

The crack echoed around us, and the bully dropped his hold on Rex as blood splattered across his face.

Wincing, I flexed my hand. Sore, but there wouldn’t be lasting injuries.

“What the fuck, Agony?” Kieran pressed close against my back. “We need to get out of here. Immediately.”

“You said find my joy, right?” I ground out, shooting a look back at him. “This is me doing that. No joy until I know that my best friend is okay.”

The bully glanced from me to Rex, then swiped away a smear of blood on his pale skin. His face twitched into a vaguely impressed expression. “Not bad. Decent form.”

“Thanks.”

He sniffed once then shrugged. “Fine, you can deal with him for now. I’ll come collect later, Rex.” He started to walk away, then turned back to him, his finger extended in warning. “And don’t forget, stop by the house later. Maryanne’s making your favorite stew, she’ll be hurt if you miss it. But clean yourself up first.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rex muttered, spitting out a spray of red. He ran his hands down his pants, straightening them out, as if that was the part of his outfit that needed the tidying. Then he shot me a glare, swiped the blood from his face on the sleeve of his shirt, and with a wince and quick crack, snapped his nose back into place. “I assume you’re Mars, then?”

“Mareena,” I corrected, my fingers jittery now that the moment was settling. “Sorry,” I added, gesturing to his face. “I think the tension of the moment got to me and I went a little overboard.”

Why had I punched him? Kieran was right. What the fuck was I thinking?

The market goers walked around us, occasionally with a lingering stare at Rex, but otherwise seemed generally unconcerned about the sudden bloodshed.

“Don’t worry about it.” He sighed, running his fingers gently over the bridge of his nose as if testing to see if it was, indeed, properly realigned. “I tend to bring out the violence in people.” He ripped the pendant dangling from his neck off and set it down on the counter of his booth. “This fuckin’ thing’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

Some talisman of some sort. Witchcraft, maybe? Did he practice?

At this point, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“Here.” I offered him a tight smile, then grabbed the bandana tied around my bag and handed it to him. “For the, uh,” I rubbed my nose to illustrate where blood was still pouring from his, “you know.”

“Thanks,” he said, blowing his nose into the cloth. I definitely would not be asking for that back. “And I was telling the truth—mostly. I haven’t seen Sora today.”

“But you do know her.” I narrowed my eyes. “Well enough to know who I am.”

He nodded, shoving the bandana in his pocket. “Yeah, she’s a nice girl. One of the few regulars who’s still kind to me around here.”

I winced, feeling worse for the whole punch thing. “Sounds like Sora. Not a mean bone in her body.”

He shook his head, then his eyes darted to mine briefly before scanning the people lurking around. “She’s really missing?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And you’re actually concerned? You’re sure she didn’t just take an impromptu holiday or sexcation?”

“Sexcation?” Kieran wrinkled his nose in confusion. “The fuck is that?”

“Look, I’m certain. This isn’t like her. We always check in. Do you have any idea where she could be?” My eyes started to well with tears and I choked on a sob. “Please.”

“Emotions are often heightened around me.” He glanced at my eyes and started to hand my bandana back to me until I vigorously shook my head. “Been that way since The Undoing. It’s why I like Sora so much. Usually run into her when she’s already in a good mood.” He sighed, then ran his hand through his red waves. “Okay, I don’t know where she is, but I do know what she might be after.”

I took a step towards him. “After? What do you mean?”

He bit his lip, considering for a second. “Alright. Look, are you familiar with the Sect of Azrael?”

I nodded and my chest was so tight it felt like it was on fire.

“She came to me a couple of weeks ago. She was real down. Unusual for her, you know?” He glanced at me and shrugged. “Hated seeing her like that. She’s one of my few sparks of joy around here. But when I started talking to her, she mentioned her sister—mentioned that the anniversary of her death was coming up.” He winced at whatever emotion he saw reflected on my face—anger, fear, grief, maybe all three. “I might have talked to her about a ritual I’d heard of.”

“Ritual,” I repeated, my voice hollow.

Kieran was glued to my side, the back of his hand brushing against mine. “Easy, Agony. Breathe. Try to reign it in until you get the information you need.”

“You know,” Rex shrugged and started to fiddle with the rocks and random beads on his cart, “not a guarantee or nothing, but a possibility. There’ve been rumors.”

“What did you tell her?” I asked. My finger pressed into my ring so hard, I was at risk of breaking it. “What did this ritual,” I spat the word, “of yours require?”

“Woah, woah,” he put his hands up, “let’s be real clear. Not my ritual. I’m just the conveyor of information. Don’t get mad at the messenger.”

“Tell me.”

He sighed, glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then gestured for me to get closer. “It requires three things. First, a shard of Michael. Second, the human completing the ritual needs to exchange blood with a vampire.” He held up three fingers, the creases of his knuckles still lined with his blood. “Third, she needs to complete the ritual at a place touched by magic.”

I clenched my jaw. “And this ritual—what does it do?”

“Like I said,” Rex spread his hands out, “no guarantees, but when I was with the Sect, they were certain this could help the living commune with the dead.”

There was a loud caw, and shiny black wings swept over the table. Menace swiped whatever pendant Rex had just yanked off his neck, then flew to an awning across the street.

Rex tossed a rock in his direction but missed by several feet. “That fucking crow keeps jacking my goods.”

“I’ll get it back for you, but finish telling me what you know,” I said, my focus darting from Menace back to the table of random rocks and gadgets. It mostly looked like junk. “You peddle these fake charms and talismans to people. Did you do the same to Sora?”

He clicked his teeth. “Fake? No. Who says it’s fake?” He shook his head. “And I told her several times that the ritual was a long shot. I’d never seen it done, didn’t know anyone with firsthand experience. Could be total crap, for all I know. But I thought I was helping—offering her some hope about some possible option in the future, when it might be feasible, you know?”

“You were helping yourself.” My hands were clamped in two fists again as I took another step towards him. “Trying to manipulate her back into her cheery, hopeful self. For your benefit. Not hers.”

Sora didn’t trust people easily. She wouldn’t charge into a dangerous situation without thinking it through, talking it out.

But she might skip some corners if it meant seeing Rina again.

I cursed, my hand curling into a fist again.

“Okay, okay.” He stepped back, bumping into his table and knocking his wares to the ground. “Look, I sold her a necklace. Blue—very nice, very rare. Matched her hair and everything. Was just trying to give her some hope. Make her smile. Didn’t think anything more would come of it.”

Shit. The pendant Menace had swiped and stocked away in his treasure box last week.

I took a slow, steady breath, trying to calm the rage bubbling inside of me. “And Incendiary; you got us into the club last week. Why?”

“She came back a few days later, a lot brighter, a lot happier—her usual self. She mentioned the club, wanting to go. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Everyone wants to get a ticket into that place. How was I supposed to assume she wanted more than a nice night out with her roommate?” He tilted his head from side to side. “Couple people owed me favors. I called them in.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I felt bad. I was trying to make her happy. I was doing something nice . ”

Nice . I grunted.

Incendiary was a place for a nice night out. It was also a place where someone could casually introduce themself to a vampire.

I turned to Kieran. “Let’s go.”

“Hey,” Rex called out when we started to leave. “I really do hope she’s okay. And I don’t know—maybe it will be worth it. Maybe the ritual will work. She just wants to see her sister again.”

I froze, my body vibrating with barely constrained anger. As if I didn’t understand my best friend’s motivations. As if I didn’t know that she wanted to see her fucking sister again. Of course she fucking did.

But that’s not what he cared about.

“I’m supposed to be finding my joy,” I mumbled. “Instead, I’m only finding my rage.”

Kieran glanced down at me, his mouth pressed into that smirk of his. “I don’t know, Agony. Gotta say, rage looks pretty good on you, too.”

“Hey, wait.” When I didn’t turn or respond, Rex’s voice only grew louder. “What about my pendant? You said you’d get it back for me.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. Then I turned towards Menace and called him over.

When he latched onto my shoulder and dropped the warped leather and stone onto my palm, I thanked him, offering a piece of kibble that I kept in my bag in exchange.

Then I threw the necklace onto the ground.

The three of us left without looking back to watch him scramble for it.

“What now?” Kieran asked, his expression unreadable.

“We make a visit to Incendiary again,” I said. “Tonight.”