Chapter 22: Chapter 22

S Ø R E N

SØREN FROWNED AT Savannah, who glanced back at him with a terror that suggested that she was afraid of her own hands.

He too was baffled, but tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Savannah had screamed, raised her hands, and from her palms had shot beams of dazzling light. The light had hit the Boss and knocked him backwards and into the wall, leaving an impression. A wave of heat that had dissipated after the flash of light faded almost as soon as it had burst to life, and had likely left Savannah’s hands feeling fried.

Søren, Nadine and Lewis then shared unnerved looks before they hesitantly lowered their weapons.

Søren stepped forward and put a reassuring hand on Savannah’s shoulder, but he only succeeded in making her flinch. He raised an eyebrow as she looked mortified, and she slowly shook her head. She then offered him an apologetic look before glancing back at the Boss, who was getting up from the floor with the help of the purple haired woman from before.

“I’m fine, Nina,” Death hissed in embarrassment, irritably brushing her off. He then turned to glare at Savannah.

“It just…happened,” the redheaded Reaper squeaked, tensing up and holding her hands to her chest. “I mean…I don’t know what exactly, happened…but…” she struggled, her face scrunching up in desperation to express herself despite her frustration.

“Did you just…use light projection on me?” the Boss tripped over his words, sounding as though he were unable to wrap his head around whatever he had just mentioned.

“Light projection?” Savannah whispered in a trembling voice, her eyebrows knitting into a frown. “What…what’s that?”

She glanced back at the other Reapers in hopes of an answer.

They looked at each other and shrugged. None of them knew what that was —not even Søren. Savannah evidently spoke for all of them.

The Boss sighed heavily as he shook his head, before he winced and held the bridge of his nose again. “We…cannot have this conversation here,” he hissed. Then he turned to leave. No one moved.

“Hello? Am I talking to myself? Follow me,” the god ordered, prompting his assistant to scuttle after him.

Søren looked at Nadine and she shook her head, silently telling him that there was no way Death meant that they should follow him too.

“What about our new friends?” Savannah murmured.

Søren blinked; having been unaware of that title she had now given them.

The Boss skidded to a halt at the doors. “Your. New. What,” he growled, looking back at them out of the corner of his eye. He did not say it as though he expected an answer. He said it in disbelief, and understandable shock.

“Need I remind you that those are Detached, and it is of no consequence to me nor to the system if they are ‘reformed’ or not. They are still outlawed.” Then he turned to the purple haired woman. “Nina —watch,” he barked.

Savannah’s jaw set and she huffed but marched begrudgingly towards the doors. She turned and shot Søren a look, indicating that he should follow suit. He scrambled to action and mouthed a quick apology to Nadine, but all she did was sneer and scoff, “Typical.”

The Trainer fought the feeling of guilt as they wandered down the halls towards the Boss’ office.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that it took him a few seconds to notice that Savannah’s maid attire had melted away and her reaping clothes had rematerialised onto her as they were walking.

The Reaper herself poked at her arms to check if it was real, before starting with excitement.

“Wait,” Søren said, interrupting her relief, “Wasn’t this only supposed to happen when we finished the punishment?”

The Boss breathed a deep sigh and exhaled wearily as he opened the doors to the office. “Initially, yes,” he drawled, “but since that punishment is going to take you forever, I thought it would be better to address this situation like this,” he elaborated, before sitting down right on top of the desk. He rested his arms on his legs and gestured for the two Grim Reapers to take a seat. Søren looked at Savannah and there was the same confusion in her expression that was in his.

“But there aren’t any —” Savannah started, but when they turned around again two leather armchairs appeared in front of the desk. “—seats,” she finished, before shrugging and plopping down in the one closest to her.

Søren sunk down in the other one and sighed, wondering what exactly the Boss was planning to say.

“I did not want to have this conversation until it was absolutely necessary, but now that…” he paused and pointed at Savannah’s hands uncertainly, “that has happened, I no longer have much of a choice.”

Savannah frowned and Søren cast his gaze to the wall, figuring that he partially knew what Death was talking about.

He saw Savannah look at him out of the corner of his eye and he subtly shrank back, before coughing uncomfortably. “…Shit,” he then muttered under his breath as her stare turned into a glare. He wanted to kick himself for being so conspicuous, but it was too late.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, tensing up and hissing in the armchair like a cat, “…You know something, don’t you?”

Søren scratched the back of his neck and glanced at the Boss, hoping he would save him from having to say anything. Death looked back at him indifferently and shrugged. Savannah started tapping her foot impatiently, gradually getting faster, like she was running on a timer.

“He made me keep quiet,” Søren suddenly blurted out, pointing at the Boss without an ounce of fear.

Death did not even turn one hair at the Reaper’s betrayal, before he cleared his throat. “He is not actually wrong,” he sighed, regaining Savannah’s attention, “Yes, I did ask him —”

“—Threaten,” Søren coughed into his fist.

The god shot the Trainer a look, but he just shrugged innocently.

“Order,” Death settled for, “…him not to breathe a word to you until I wanted to tell you. And where do I start? Okay. My name is Thanatos. I am the Greek god of death. The Grim Reaper, if you will. The-Guy-With-The-Scythe —I don’t know. Whatever. I do not care,” he admitted. “…I am the one who started the Reapers Organisation, and it runs independently of but harmoniously with the system in the Underworld.”

“Oh…kay?” Savannah muttered, raising an eyebrow.

Søren was genuinely surprised, because he had not thought that she would be so uncaring. Was she so used to hearing things such as this that the revelation now went over her head?

The Boss seemed as surprised by her reaction as the Trainer was, and he shifted slightly so he could cross one leg over the other. “Well,” he said in a more amused tone, “that ‘okay’ was rather unexpected.”

He waved his hand and summoned another glass of wine, before taking a long, awkward silence inducing sip. “Ah,” he breathed, as though it had been refreshing, and set the glass down. “Let’s get right to the point then,” he beamed. “You are a half-blood god. One of your parents, is not…well, human. They are an immortal Greek deity.”

Silence then hung over the room like a thick blanket.

After dropping that bombshell, Søren would expect Savannah to at least gasp in disbelief. But as usual, she managed to pull a hit or miss on his expectations. He glanced to the side at her. She paused, before tapping her fingers rhythmically on the arm of her chair. She ground her teeth together and inhaled sharply, but she did not articulate any form of verbal response.

“I would expect that this is a very sudden and shocking revelation,” Søren eventually spoke up, causing Savannah’s gaze to flicker momentarily in his direction. “That’s why she’s so…speechless?” he guessed.

“I am perfectly capable of speaking,” Savannah then said in a calm and even voice. “I just…I’m not sure about what I should say.”

“Anything,” the Boss retorted.

“…Anything,” she repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

The Trainer looked between her and the Boss, before scoffing in what might have been approval. “Smartass,” he smirked.

“That is certainly one word for it,” the Boss snarled. “Now. Enough tomfoolery. Savannah, you may be a half-and-halfer, but that also makes you what is called ‘game’ or, ‘sport’.”

“As in…hunting?” Søren asked.

“Exactly,” the Boss clarified. “Some of the more barbaric gods would love nothing more than to hunt you down and collect your blood for display as though it were a trophy.”

“Excuse me?” Savannah spluttered, doing a double take. “What’s so special about my blood?”

“It is silver, is it not?” the Boss frowned, picking his wine glass up again. “All half-bloods have silver blood, as far as I have heard.”

Søren looked at Savannah to verify. She avoided his gaze and rubbed up and down her arm nervously. “Have you…seen any half-bloods with silver blood?” she whispered, mumbling slightly towards the end.

Søren frowned and looked at her properly, curious as to why she seemed so on edge about this. Did she have silver blood or not?

He silently asked her by giving her an expectant look, but she glanced away all too aware of the intention.

“I will admit that I have never seen silver blood, nor have I seen of any half-bloods with my own eyes. But I have heard stories,” the Boss said, taking another long sip of wine. “…From the older gods.”

Savannah still twisted her mouth in a shape, reluctant to engage.

“Well, why don’t we just slit your finger and see what comes out?” the Boss suddenly suggested.

Søren started, and Savannah jumped in her seat.

She cringed and looked like she wanted to protest, but the Boss started laughing before she could get out one word.

“I’m joking!” he assured between chuckles. The Reapers hesitated, unsure of what to take seriously. “I am not morbid,” Death scoffed, and Søren scoffed too. Said the man with decorative skulls in his office —of which their origins are still inconclusive, he thought.

“And, who am I to judge you whether or not you have actually ever seen your own blood before?” the Boss continued.

Savannah shrank in the chair, as though she were trying to make herself smaller. Søren gave her a stern look and she dithered under his gaze, biting her lip. He figured that she had in fact seen her own blood before —at the car crash. But as to why she was keeping quiet, was still a puzzle to him.

“So…I’m a descendant of the gods?” Savannah murmured uncertainly, as if it was now beginning to sink in. “Which one?”

A sudden cloud then came over the Boss’ face and he scowled deeply. He did not answer straight away. The muscles in his neck flexed so his veins were visible, before his grip on his wine glass tightened and it suddenly shattered, sending glass shards in every direction. But the glass did not penetrate anything —it melted into a white mist and trickled to the floor where it then disappeared. Savannah and Søren flinched, before shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

“…That, I cannot tell you,” the Boss said in a low, hard voice. “The consequences would be…undesirable.”

Savannah dared to roll her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You cannot know who your godly parent is, that’s what!” he then thundered, and the room seemed to tremble along with the echo of his words. Savannah pursed her lips and shrank back, and something in Søren did not like her easy defeat. He looked back at the Boss, and discreetly gestured for him to tell her about their relationship. Death seemed to receive the message, because he then looked very unnerved. He poked a finger into the collar of his shirt and attempted to loosen it, to relieve the strain on his neck. Søren glared at him.

Savannah deserved to know.

“…My father,” Savannah spoke up, distracting the two from their silent confrontation. “He’s the godly parent. He’s the one who left my mother —it was because of his duties, wasn’t it? Or that she didn’t want me growing up with a god for a father…” she gathered, lowering her gaze.

Søren could hear it in her voice. A shiny layer of tears shone along the bottom of her eyes and he froze in anticipation. “So, I can’t have a father because it’s constantly half-blood season?” she snorted, looking up again.

“…Well —” the Boss started.

“And as for your previous question,” she cut him off and reached over to Søren. He flinched away but she managed to grab hold of an arrow from his quiver. He looked on in surprise as she quickly swiped her forearm with the sharp tip. The skin reddened like a burn, before beads of red blood seeped out onto the line of the cut. Søren watched in newfound awe as the red seemed to melt into silver; shiny and solid like liquid mercury. Savannah looked up at him apologetically, while handing him the arrow.

The Trainer paused, not knowing what to do with it.

“It’s not contaminated,” she hissed. “I only made a cut —I didn’t go poking around in the wound.”

Realising that she had a point, Søren slotted the arrow back into his quiver before the Boss’ cough reminded them of his presence.

“I never imagined it to look quite like that,” Death admitted, sitting up. “Also, you didn’t actually have to cut yourself to prove that.”

Savannah blushed and tried to hide her arm. “…It was a spur in the moment kind of thing.”

The Boss nodded, then frowned thoughtfully. “I am sorry that I cannot tell you about your father, Savannah. It really is for the best. And what is worse, is that Titans are more ruthless than gods when it comes to apprehending wrongdoers.”

“Titans?” Søren repeated. “Like Kronos?”

He paused. “…Yes.”

“Hey,” Savannah snapped, leaning forward in her chair. The tears were gone. Instead, her irises lit up and returned to normal in a series of flashes, like a warning sign. “What really happened in the war?”

The Boss gulped and looked askance, before waving his hand and replacing the old shattered wine glass with a new, full one. “Where do I begin?” he sighed. “It was an ordinary day, I believe. Everything was going smoothly —and then, the sky darkened. Our systems had crashed. The alarm wouldn’t stop blaring, and nothing moved or made a sound. And then…thud. Thud. Thud. Huge footsteps echoed in the hallways, but nothing showed. So, we raced to the entrance. And there he was —like, twenty feet tall and made of bright red cobblestone; casting a light in the sky that made it look like it was sunset. He had enormous horns that could slice a skyscraper into ribbons. He had finally shown himself after two millennia…” he then paused, letting the suspense build up. The Reapers did not really react, but the air felt colder and less dense than before, causing a shiver to run down Søren’s spine. “…Kronos,” Death breathed.