Chapter 18: Chapter 18

S Ø R E N

SØREN WAS VERY tempted to open up and start reading The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown, but Savannah was standing a few feet away from him, dusting vigorously and keeping a watchful eye on him.

She would not approve of him reading on the job.

He dusted the book carefully, before dusting the empty slot of shelf, and the books on either side. Then he slid the book back into its place before he picked up the next one.

“You know, my Mom would flip over a library this size,” Savannah spoke. “She’s only got a tiny one-wall collection of her favourite classics.”

“I’m flipping,” Søren replied. “I really wish that our punishment was to read every one of these books instead.”

“God, no,” she sneered, turning to glare at him. “There are some seriously boring books here.” She then pointed at some examples.

He was severely offended. “They are called classics; and they’re art.”

“I prefer books with more out of this world fantasy and bloody action to them,” she reasoned haughtily. “Keeps you on your toes.”

“Mm. I’m sure,” Søren deadpanned.

She huffed, before turning her attention back to the shelves. Her hair was almost chestnut in the dark. And in that moment, a thought struck the Trainer. “…Hey. Whatever happened to your fire bird?”

Savannah froze and looked at him with fearful eyes. “Phee-Phee,” she gasped, as though it was a recent development. “They…they didn’t take him —I didn’t see them take him…did you?”

“No…” Søren said slowly, trying to recall what had happened. Then another, better, thought stuck him. “You don’t think…maybe they scared him so much that he turned to ash?”

His trainee gave him a warning look. “Wouldn’t you just love that,” she snapped. While she did attempt to snarl, he did not peg her as one to tear up easily: a thin film of silver shimmered at her lower eyelid.

Søren sighed and glanced elsewhere. “Maybe it’s better this way,” he suggested, “—that they never saw him and that he left. Gods know what the Boss would have done if he found out we were harbouring a Phoenix. Technically, they’re only supposed to work for him.”

Savannah rubbed her arm self-consciously. “…Maybe,” she mumbled, and Søren frowned as a lone tear slid down the side of her face.

Her behaviour was beginning to get annoying. He had never understood the reasoning behind keeping that thing in the first place, and now that they had a chance of things going back to normal and not worrying about molten lava bird excrement, she was not seeing the bright side —and the right side.

Søren had established his distaste for her stubbornness well ahead of time, and he hoped she knew that her tears were in vain. No amount of guilt tripping would soften him up —not even if it had some sort of validity.

“This is how it is supposed to be,” the Trainer whispered.

She looked up at him, and suddenly the tears were no more. She wiped them away fiercely with the back of the decorative detached shirt cuffs before glaring up at the older Reaper with hard, intense golden eyes. Unfazed, Søren raised an eyebrow, expecting her to say something.

“You’re actually a jerk,” she said, throwing down her feather duster. “You’re such an insensitive, closed off jerk and a hypocritical idiot —and…and I just want to punch you in the face,” she said through clenched teeth; her chest rising and falling with effort.

Søren folded his arms; mostly out of disappointment. She was really holding back. “Tell me something that I’ve never heard before.”

“Unbelievable.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘apathetic’.”

“No,” she frowned and shook her head thoughtfully. “It’s ‘liar’.”

Søren paused at this, surprised for only a flicker of a moment. That was definitely not something he had heard before. He never lied —he always tried his best to accomplish what was within his capabilities, and never made empty promises. And when he promised something, he always included the words ‘I promise’. If he did not say them, it was because he knew the outcome was out of his control. So, it hurt when she called him a liar.

He glared right back at Savannah, anger welling up inside of him. The air settled, undisturbed. He was close enough to see the streaks of brown and amber in her irises, melting into the shades of yellow.

Søren did not like them. They sent shivers down his spine.

“I think that you do feel things,” Savannah whispered, her face softening briefly. “And I’m not sure whether this started before, or after Melchior —but I think you’re just afraid of what will happen if you feel again.”

The Trainer tensed up, before feeling a wave of heat rising to the surface of his skin. He was uncomfortable at the mention of Melchior’s name —as well as her question about feelings. As soon as those words left her mouth, his mind went into shut down mode and a reflex of blushing out of embarrassment activated, very much against his will.

Søren opened his mouth, but absolutely nothing came out. He wondered why he could not deny it; he had always done it in the past.

“…No,” he eventually managed to articulate. “I —I’m not afraid.”

His trainee’s golden eyes narrowed and she took a step closer to him, making him back up further and bump into the books behind them.

She frowned, and her eyes moved slightly from side to side as though she were searching for something in his. “Are you…blushing?” she whispered, evidently just as surprised as he was about it.

“…Maybe,” he murmured.

She withdrew and blinked uncertainly. He knew that she wanted to ask why.

Søren sighed, defeated. “…I got thrown off by what you said. I didn’t want to really acknowledge what you were saying. Look, it doesn’t mean what you said is true —I am so not afraid of feeling things,” he insisted firmly. “It’s just that…I got upset when you called me a liar.”

“Technically, I didn’t call you a liar directly,” Savannah defended herself. “I used it as an adjective.”

“Still,” he hissed, balling his hands up into fists. “I am not a liar and I try everything within my power not to lie.”

Søren then pursed his lips guiltily, remembering that he had done just that when she asked what had taken him so long after she had stormed out of the Boss’ office. It had not been his fault —he would very much prefer to stay alive and not turn into three-headed dog food.

“…I see,” was all with which she replied, stepping back.

Søren exhaled and moved away from the claustrophobic corner in which he was. He did not know what had just happened, but he did not ever want it to repeat. Hopefully Savannah would not make it a habit to confront him and make him question himself. He did not need that —not from her.

Suddenly the front doors burst open, making the Reapers jump and turn. A young woman with long purple hair stood there, out of breath and quite flustered. We stared at her expectantly, but she took a while to gather her thoughts, simply staring back at the pair.

“…Søren and Savannah, right?” she asked.

“Yes…?” Søren answered.

“There’s been a…situation —”

An alarm then interrupted her, and the Reapers looked around in confusion. The woman snapped her fingers to regain their attention, before growing serious. She motioned for them to follow her, so Søren grabbed his crossbow before they walked towards the exit uncertainly.

“What’s going on?” Savannah asked, putting her hands over her ears and wincing at the piercing sound of the alarm.

“A pair of Detached have broken in and at the moment, we are unsure as to whether or not they have taken anything,” she explained, picking up the pace, “We need to lock down and do a head count, so you need to come with me to the throne room.”

“Detached?” Savannah repeated.

“They are Reapers who have run and broken away from the organisation illegally. They’ve basically dropped off of the grid,” Søren filled in for her.

Savannah’s eyes widened and a suspicious smile found her lips. “Wait, you can do that?”

Søren frowned and shot the idea down immediately. “Don’t get any ideas,” he warned. “Detached are outlawed, discriminated against —and if caught, will be reaped on the spot.”

She gulped, thankfully appearing to be abandoning the possibility.

“That is correct,” the purple haired woman continued, nearing the throne room entrance, where the bustle of noise was already at high volume. “Detached have no regard for anything and just like us, will not hesitate to reap if confronted.”

Savannah shot her Trainer a nervous look as they then entered the crowded throne room and headed for the dais, where the Boss looked just about ready to tear his hair out. “What the bloody hell did you bring these two here for?” he hissed as his eyes landed on the Reapers.

“You asked for everyone, sir,” the woman answered in an exasperated tone, before turning on her heel.

Death sighed heavily, before flippantly waving Savannah and Søren off. “Just…go stand in the back or something, and keep your mouths shut.”

The two muttered short, sharp comebacks under their breaths as they sauntered off, elbowing past officials and panicked employees. Several snickers were sent their way as they then realised that Savannah was still dressed as a maid. The Reapers paid them no mind, though Savannah did go slightly pink and wrap her arms tighter around herself. “…This is stupid,” she hissed as they stood with their backs against a pillar.

“Tell me about it,” Søren drawled and folded his arms. He glanced around and then met a gaze of Tiger’s Eye; hard and focused on him. He flinched as his gaze lowered, gliding over a large muscled frame and a Security uniform. The Trainer then quickly looked away, but it was too late since they had already made eye contact. The officer began to march over.

Savannah started as she noticed him too, and stood up straighter, sensing the tension. She looked at him in what seemed like disbelief.

“Well, what do we have here?” he smiled, towering over them. His skin was tropically tanned, and his muscles strained against his uniform.

“What’s with the getup?” he snorted, nodding at Savannah.

She dithered, until she found her voice. “…Not by choice,” she mumbled, glancing downwards and kicking one of her shoes with the other.

“The Boss thought it was funny,” Søren explained.

“The Boss punished you personally?” remarked the domineering Reaper. “Harsh. Oh —you wouldn’t happen to be the punishment kids, would you?” the officer then grinned, looking between them. Søren frowned at the word ‘kids’ and unashamedly displayed his taken offence.

“What’s it to you?” Savannah snapped, and her Trainer nudged her subtly, alarmed by her lack of respect.

“Well, I happen to be the Head of Security, so, I wouldn’t use that tone if I were you,” he warned her with a smile. Savannah shuffled around sheepishly, before murmuring an apology. Søren shifted his weight uneasily, still craning his neck up to look at him.

“Ignore her,” the Trainer sighed, “it’s been a long day.”

“I can imagine,” he said while sucking his teeth. “And I can agree, because you two weren’t easy to find,” he chuckled, pointing at the two comically.

Søren eyed him wearily and was not sure if he was trying to be funny or not, so he remained silent.

The officer was then about to continue, when he turned as though someone was calling him. The portable radio strapped to his side turned on, and filtered in the angry voice of the Boss, demanding that the so-called Head of Security had better move it or else he would be fired.

Savannah and Søren snickered, as the Reaper hissed and muttered under his breath in Māori —before his icy glare shut them up.

“You two just remember old Norman, Head of Security —okay?” he told them as he backed away into the crowd, “He’s got his eyes on you.”

Once he had disappeared into the sea of people, they burst out laughing.

“…Norman!” Savannah spluttered.

“How scary. I thought it would be something more intimidating,” Søren snorted, “like Lesley…Or Fred!”

They were in such hysterics, that they almost did not hear a megaphone screech from the front of the room.

“…Is this thing on?” the Boss’ voice boomed around the marble room. Once he realised that he had nearly burst everyone’s eardrums, he lowered the volume slightly and proceeded to inform his employees of the situation. “Everything is now under control. Both of the Detached have escaped, but only a few reaping lists were found missing. We have reason to believe they were taken by the vile creatures. But rest assured —we are currently working on investigating the matter further!”

Relieved cheers rang out and Søren and Savannah clapped along uncertainly, not really sure if they could really be included.

The alarm finally faded, and the sweet sound of silence became the background for chatter. Søren then frowned as he replayed the speech in his head, going over every detail. Savannah could tell that he was in deep thought because she let him think without saying anything —until he realised something, and he wagged his finger knowingly.

“What? What is it?” she asked.

“They took reaping lists,” the Trainer said in a low voice, pulling her closer so they were further out of earshot. “Lists of souls that needed to be collected. What could they possibly want with that kind of information?”

Savannah narrowed her eyes and pouted, seemingly at a loss. She shrugged, which Søren should have expected, before he looked up in time to see Death making his way over to them.

“Well, you two can go back to the library now,” he said with his hands in his pockets. “The situation is under control and you are no longer at risk of being harmed.” He smiled, but it was clearly ingenuine.

Savannah returned her own fake smile. “Thanks for the concern.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Søren rolled his eyes and tried to steer the conversation in a more constructive direction. “…Sir?” he started. “You said they might have taken some reaping lists? Well, that deserves some immediate attention. It hasn’t occurred to you that maybe they have an agenda behind this attack?”

“This isn’t the first time,” a woman standing next to the Boss added. “We’re missing the lists from yesterday and the day before.”

Death sighed and visibly stiffened, unsure of where this discussion was heading. “These are not matters with which to concern yourself, Trainer.”

“But he’s making a point,” Savannah backed Søren up. “Can you just bring your ego down a few notches and listen to someone else’s ideas?”

Everyone winced and looked between the Reaper and the god, worried about what he would do to her for speaking to him in such a way. He clenched his jaw. His eyes glowed dangerously in a warning, and a snarl made its way up his throat. Yet, he said nothing.

Death gave both of the young Reapers a once-over, and turned sharply on his heel, prompting his posse to follow after him. And that was it.

Savannah and Søren shared a look of surprise, before they were left alone with the remaining stragglers.

“Why didn’t he make a snappy comment back?” the redhead whispered.

“Probably because we had an audience,” Søren figured, moving to walk to the exit and head back to the library. She followed suit, nodding in agreement. “He’s got to keep a level-headed reputation.”

A sly smile then spread across her face, and Søren could tell that she was conjuring up something mischievous. “…Maybe I should call him out in front of his employees more often,” she voiced the thought.

“You’re awful,” he chortled, reaching out to open the doors to the library as they approached them. They continued laughing as they went inside, before a loud pair of gasps silenced them.

The Reapers paused and stood a little way away from two figures huddled in a corner by a lit candle; their faces smudged with mud and dirt, and their hair tangled with leaves and twigs. A young woman, and a teenage boy. They still wore their Reaper uniform, but their badges were ripped off, leaving the patches of skin that were underneath completely exposed.

All four immortals simply stared at each other, frozen.

Then Søren opened his mouth to speak, but only managed to inhale sharply when the woman pulled out a baseball bat spiked with obsidian coated nails.

The Trainer’s crossbow dropped to the floor as he and Savannah raised their hands in surrender.

“Stay back,” she warned in a hoarse voice, shakily holding the baseball bat out at them. Her intense pearl eyes glared at them from underneath straggly dark brown hair, but the fear in them was evident.

“I thought that you said no one comes in here,” the boy hissed, eyeing the other Reapers wearily. His eyes were a clear shimmering crystal, in a light blue that was almost sea green at different angles.

“Shut it,” the woman hissed back.

That was when the answer became apparent to Søren.

“…The Detached.” he whispered. The woman’s eyes widened.