The Blunt Reaper

Frederick’s hand moved toward his sword, and Rook continued advancing. Mara stood between them before either man could close the remaining distance.

"Can we please stop turning every meeting into a fight?"

"He started it," Rook said.

"You deserved it," Frederick replied.

Mara looked from one to the other. "You’re both several centuries old."

"That doesn’t make him less irritating," Frederick said.

"It makes this much more embarrassing."

Elara rubbed both temples as she watched them. The reinforced office had survived Rook for less than ten minutes, and she already appeared to regret inviting him inside.

"No one is fighting in here," she said. "Frederick will lead the search expedition. Four additional Reapers and a vice-captain have been assigned to accompany you. You will follow his instructions until you reach the final position marked by the previous patrol."

Frederick removed his hand from his sword. "I’m taking command for the entire expedition."

Elara’s eyes lifted toward him. "You are taking command until the trail ends. Once Rook begins tracking, you will listen if he tells you the route is unsafe."

"He isn’t an officer."

"He has survived worse regions in the underworld more times than you have entered them."

Frederick disliked the answer, though he had enough sense to keep that opinion to himself. His jaw tightened before he finally stepped away from Rook.

Rook adjusted the chains securing his coffin. "Who is the vice-captain?"

Frederick’s expression soured further. "Someone I would prefer you didn’t associate with."

"That doesn’t narrow it down."

"You’ll see."

Elara dismissed them before the conversation could produce another challenge. Frederick left first, followed by Mara and Rook.

Once the door closed behind them, Elara remained seated in the silence of her reinforced office and stared at the reports spread across her desk. She had assembled one of the strongest groups available to the Forty-Second on such short notice, yet that did little to reassure her.

By the time they reached the eastern gate, four people were waiting near the final line of Bastion light. A young woman stood at the front with a ship’s anchor resting across one shoulder. The weapon appeared far too heavy for her narrow frame, its iron arms broad enough to catch a person between them. A thick chain wrapped around her torso and connected to the anchor’s ring.

Three young men waited beside her. One carried a pair of tonfas with blades extending from both ends. Another had secured a long sword across his back, while the last wore a coiled whip around one arm. Their leather field uniforms resembled Frederick’s, though none bore the numbered band of a Forty-Second officer.

Rook examined each of them. "These aren’t officers."

"They were selected from the Bastion’s active Reapers," Frederick replied.

"You said several officers and a vice-captain were coming."

"I said we would have additional personnel."

"You also said you were taking command."

"I am."

"Of four people who don’t belong to your command."

Frederick continued walking. "They follow orders better than you."

Rook looked past them toward the gate. "Where is the vice-captain?"

Two hands suddenly covered his eyes. Rook stopped without reaching for a weapon, though every muscle in his shoulders tightened.

He had heard no approaching footsteps. The coffin covered nearly his entire back, leaving no clear space for anyone to stand behind him, yet a pair of slender arms had somehow reached around both sides of it. They were long enough to pass the coffin’s edges and cover his face comfortably.

A feminine voice spoke beside his ear, bright with barely contained amusement. "Guess who?"

Rook remained still for a moment before catching both wrists and pulling the hands from his eyes. He turned as far as the coffin allowed and found a tall woman leaning over its upper edge.

Her arms were unusually long, though the rest of her remained proportioned enough that the difference only became apparent when she used them to reach around large objects or people attempting to avoid her. She stepped away from the coffin with a delighted smile.

Rook released her wrists. "Good to see you again, Vanessa."

His voice suggested otherwise.

Vanessa wore the same dark uniform as the others, though her coat hung open and the numbered band around her left arm carried the silver edging of a vice-captain. Her black hair had been tied high behind her head, and a curved blade hung loosely from her belt as if she had forgotten it was there.

Vanessa’s smile only widened at the unconvincing greeting.

Vanessa stepped close enough to examine his face. "You never visit. You never send word. Three years pass, and I have to hear from Frederick that you’re already inside my Bastion."

"Elara doesn’t like me."

"Elara doesn’t like anyone who destroys her office."

"It was an accident."

"And what about me?"

"You were too clingy the last time I visited."

Vanessa placed a hand against his chest. "That was casual skinship."

"You followed me into the bathing hall."

"We were having a conversation."

"You removed your clothes."

"It was a bathing hall."

Mara looked at Vanessa and then at Rook. The delighted way the woman watched him and the speed with which he attempted to move the conversation elsewhere made the situation obvious enough to be interesting.

"Who is this?" Mara asked.

Rook gently removed Vanessa’s hand from his chest. "The most troublesome person we’ve met so far."

Vanessa turned toward Mara with an injured expression. "That’s rude. I’m not troublesome."

Frederick released a humorless sound from beside them. Vanessa ignored him while Rook looked in his direction.

"Why did you agree to bring her? When did she become your vice-captain?"

"I didn’t agree to anything. The appointment came from higher up, and I was ordered to include her."

Vanessa smiled at him. "You make it sound as though you aren’t pleased."

"I requested anyone else."

"And they still chose me. That must mean I’m excellent."

"It means everyone else refused."

Mara looked between the three of them. Vanessa appeared friendly, Frederick appeared exhausted, and Rook had positioned his coffin slightly sideways as though preparing to use it as a barrier.

"Why are both of you being so cruel to her?"

Vanessa immediately moved toward Mara. "Thank you. You must be the new Reaper."

"I started training several days ago."

"She is barely a Reaper," Rook said. "She hasn’t completed a normal course or gone through her first field assessment."

Mara ignored him. "Why do they think you’ll cause trouble?"

Vanessa appeared genuinely confused. "I don’t know. I’ve never caused any trouble."

Frederick closed his eyes while Rook considered the claim. The absence of any obvious lie in Vanessa’s expression somehow made it worse.

"Technically, she hasn’t."

"Then what is the problem?"

"She is."

"That explains nothing."

Vanessa moved beside Mara and linked one arm through hers as though they had known each other for years. "Don’t listen to him. Rook has always struggled with affection."

"I struggle with you."

"You used to be nicer."

"I used to remember less."

Mara looked toward Rook. "You said she was the problem. How?"

Rook glanced beyond the eastern gate, where the landscape outside the Bastion stretched beneath grey light. The road disappeared between distant ridges, and nothing moved across the empty terrain.

"Vanessa can detect Abominations."

Mara waited for the rest. "Isn’t that useful?"

"Extremely," Vanessa said. "I can sense them from several miles away under the right conditions. Their direction, approximate distance and sometimes even their Rank."

"That sounds perfect for searching the Black Hollow Road."

"It would be," Frederick said.

Mara frowned. "Would be?"

Rook secured one of the coffin’s loose chains and looked toward Vanessa. She continued smiling as though the drawback had nothing to do with her.

"She can detect them from far away," he said. "The problem is that they can also detect her."

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