Chapter 23: Chapter 23

S Ø R E N

“I DID ASK for help,” the Boss frowned, stroking his chin. He made it sound as though he was not entirely sure of it himself. “But the Olympians turned me away and said that it was my problem to deal with. I cannot help but feel that they could have prevented a lot of innocent deaths.”

“Well, Kronos did give you a chance,” Savannah pointed out, visibly becoming agitated in her seat. “It is your own fault for those deaths —”

“Savannah,” Søren scolded.

“No. She is right,” the Boss surprised them with an agreement. “It was my fault. I did not and still cannot see what the whole thing was about —it’s not as though it changed the very fabric of reality. But as angry as I am with myself, I am more furious with the gods,” he grumbled, moving to rest his chin in one hand. “Perhaps because ‘family’ rarely means anything to them.”

There was a lengthy pause in acknowledgement of the last sentence, before the Boss realised what he had said. “…Oh, don’t feel bad. I should be used to it. They are more like those aunts and uncles who try their hardest to avoid attending family reunions.”

Savannah then glanced at Søren and shot him a slightly amused look at that description of the other gods, before turning back to the Boss. “So…you and me. We’re like cousins?” she asked.

Søren tensed. The Boss did not look any less unnerved, and shifted again. “Yes…sort of,” he mumbled. The Trainer frowned. Was it really better to lie to her than let her know the real relationship between them?

Søren coughed very obviously, while glancing at Savannah several times once he had gained the Boss’ attention.

‘Tell her’, Søren mouthed. Death shook his head slowly. Savannah then cleared her throat and sat upright in her chair.

“Can we talk about light projection,” she said, making it sound more like a demand than a request. “Mine specifically.”

The god of death looked all too relieved and summoned his fourth glass of wine since they had started talking. He sighed deeply, whirling the glass gently in a circular motion. “You can manifest light. Usually through the hands, like in your case. It packs tremendous force and it can be incredibly blinding. It is more of a defence mechanism than weapon. It is also not genetic —so do not get any ideas of thinking that you could be a descendant of someone like the Titan Helios.”

“So, it’s just random?” Savannah concluded.

“Precisely.”

The Reaper pressed her lips into a line. Søren found himself wondering what was going through her head. She was like a kaleidoscope —an exuberant array of different thoughts; and her façade while she did it was as unreadable as a kaleidoscope’s outer shell was unassuming.

Her next actions though, reminded him that she was still very much Savannah. She glanced downwards, and then slowly raised her hand. The Boss did not stop her, even though her palm was facing him. Søren was about to move forward to divert the direction of her hand, but the Boss was undeterred.

And then the Trainer saw why.

Nothing came from Savannah’s hand. She shook her hand vigorously, but no light nor magic sparked. The Reapers both frowned, suddenly uncertain about everything that they had been told.

“Confused?” the Boss drawled in a highly amused tone. They nodded in unison. “…I said that it’s defensive. And you are rather new to this, so I would not expect your powers to engage again so soon. And if you’re out to seriously hurt someone with light projection, you will find that it’s easier to thread a waxed mountain climbing rope through a sewing needle.”

Savannah clasped her hands together and looked down guiltily, and Søren saw a rosy hue colour her cheeks. He fought with himself to sympathise because of her clear embarrassment, and instead played uncaring delinquent; folding his arms and pressing his lips into a line.

“Well, that concludes our conversation,” the Boss announced, clapping his hands together. “Back to the library?”

“I hope that it’s not in that horrid frilly joke again,” Savannah grumbled, getting up begrudgingly.

“No,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “It was amusing while it lasted.”

“And my sword? Is that still going to take a day?”

“Oh.” He snapped his fingers. Savannah’s sword materialised next to him in a shimmering mist. “Thank you for reminding me,” he said, motioning for the sword to float over to the redhead. She grabbed it firmly before examining it. “As it turned out, I had given such a wide window because I was unsure of how long the tests would take. Fortunately, because it is one hundred percent your sword, the results were not anything spectacular,” Death sighed, sounding suspiciously disappointed.

Søren stood up and adjusted his quiver before he swung his crossbow over his shoulder and looked at Savannah, expecting her to make the next move. She snorted and sheathed the sword, then shifted her weight to one leg and folded her arms. “By the way,” she started, “I think it would be to your benefit to leave those Detached alone.”

The Boss raised an eyebrow and got off the desk to stand in front of it with one leg crossed over the other. “And just who are you to tell me what to do? I am still your superior —whether there is god blood in your veins or not. So, I think I will do what I see fit with those Detached, thank you.”

“That’s bloody selfish,” Savannah accused, glaring at the Boss. “We know now that the Detached didn’t take the reaping lists. They just wanted a safer place to hide. They are not a threat —to the Reapers Organisation nor to your high and mighty ass.”

Søren inhaled sharply; and rightly so, because the Boss’ bronze eyes then fizzled to life. But Savannah stood her ground, defiant.

“They are not like you say,” Søren then quipped, deciding to back Savannah up. “They’re just really scared, and really damaged people. They were humans once, too —”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me how to run my own damn company!” Death suddenly exploded, making the Reapers take a step backwards. His eyes were wild with molten bronze, and the clock hands sparked like jarring metal. “You’re just like father. Don’t do this, and don’t do that —I am not a child, and I can do things by myself!”

The Reapers blinked, surprised by the content of his outburst. Savannah looked away uncertainly, mimicking Søren’s unease.

“Get out of my office!” Death commanded; his eyes fully ablaze. A gust of heat that matched his rage blew through the room.

They shuffled towards the door, still shocked, before he barked out the order again. They disappeared around the door and it slammed in their faces, leaving them out in the hallway. Savannah whistled and ran a hand through her hair. “…I wasn’t expecting that,” she admitted.

“Me neither,” Søren sighed.

“But did you hear what he said? He feels as though everyone treats him like a child too,” she remarked.

“Don’t push that again. You are a Grim Reaper —once human. He’s an immortal god. Although…now that I think about it, you two actually sound a lot alike,” Søren realised. “It’s almost uncanny.”

She looked at him sideways.

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself by trying to hint at the fact that they were related to each other a little closer than cousins.

“…Whatever,” she huffed. “He makes it sound like all of the gods are the same. Uncaring.”

“Surely at least some of them are a little bit caring? I mean, how else do offspring come to be?”

“Just because people have kids it doesn’t mean that they care,” she snapped, shooting Søren a knowing look.

He paused. “To be honest, his father sounds like he cared too much. Treating him like a child —it’s as though he wasn’t ready to let him grow up and wished he would stay with him forever,” Søren sighed. Without even realising it, his voice then dropped to a mumble. “…At least that’s better than forcing a child to grow up before they’re ready.”

“Søren…” Savannah frowned and her expression softened, before he felt her hand land on his arm. The Trainer froze and stared at it, confused. It was such a touching, probing gesture. But he was not in any mood to elaborate.

It was too much too soon, and it left him dithering. So, Søren suddenly turned away and closed himself off.

Savannah withdrew slowly, looking a little hurt.

“So…what a firecracker, right? I told you that Death was unhinged," he then whistled, redirecting the conversation.

Savannah lidded her eyes. “Seriously? You can just say so if you don’t want to talk about something. You don’t forcibly have to change the topic.”

“Well, then excuse me for wanting to keep my private life private,” Søren snapped, clenching his fists.

“I didn’t force you to share anything,” she reasoned. “Just be honest with me and tell me if you don’t want to talk about something.”

“You should be able to tell.”

“How?” she pointed out. “I barely know you —and certainly not well enough for deciphering your moods. So, cut me some slack.”

Søren could not listen to her voice of reason. He was far too upset. He simply wanted to argue with her and releasing some of the pent-up rage.

“Pfft —you’re just using that as an excuse,” he snarled. “Soon enough everyone is going to stop treating you like a newbie and you’re going to have to take responsibility for your actions. Like, what the hell were you thinking in that office, backchatting the Boss like that?”

“It…it wasn’t just me,” she countered.

“I was just paying him back for being an asshole,” Søren said defensively. “You wanted to rile him up almost as much as I did —if not more.”

“That’s not true!” she protested.

“Then what were you doing?”

“I don’t know —I just…I was trying to do something good —for someone else…I wanted to be a part of saving someone…or something,” she struggled, becoming increasingly frustrated. “You know what? I don’t know why I’m trying to explain this to you. It’s not like you would understand.”

She then whipped around and stormed off. Søren’s anger then diminished enough for him to realise how much of an asshole he was being. He fought the feeling of guilt and replaced it with resolve. He was not about to apologise, but even he knew that she had not deserved that.

“…Wait, Savannah.” The Trainer darted forward after her. He grabbed her arm and stalled her in her tracks, surprising her as she stumbled a little before reluctantly looking up at him. “Why would I not understand about heroism?” he inquired, narrowing his eyes. “Just what do you think I’ve been doing all this time by tagging along with you in all of this? I could have left a long time ago, Savannah. But I am still here.”

That was not entirely true. Søren could not have left her —he was bound by his duties as a Trainer to teach her until she was ready to go it alone. A status of which she was admittedly far from. Savannah made a face and then wrenched her arm free, causing Søren to stumble backwards. She clicked her tongue, but if anything, she looked more hurt than angered.

“…I thought you said that you don’t lie,” she said in a nonchalant voice, before walking off down the hallway.

Søren opened his mouth and then closed it, unable to come up with a comeback. So, she had caught on. She knew that he could not abandon her. That meant his plan backfired badly. The Reaper growled, disappointed for the way in which he handled it.

✠

Søren was set to give Savannah a proper apology, but unfortunately when the Reapers got back to the library there was something else to demand his attention.

“What on Earth happened —”

“—I have no idea,” Savannah’s answer overlapped his question.

The purple haired woman Søren recalled as Nina was sitting on Nadine’s back and filing her nails as the Nadine flailed her arms and legs. Her baseball bat lay a few inches away, just out of her reach.

Lewis was buried underneath a pile of books in a pyramid structure, with his face poking out in the gaps between the spines.

Nina looked up at the Reapers expectantly, but they could not find the words.

“Help us,” Lewis’ muffled voice groaned from the pyramid.

“What the hell did we miss?” Savannah gasped, rushing over to Lewis’ aid. Søren walked over to Nina and gestured for her to get up. She did, but Nadine remained there on the floor like a beached whale. Then Savannah gave Nina the same expectant look as her Trainer did.

The assistant shrugged. “They tried to escape,” she put simply.

“So, you sat on her, and put him in a cage?” Søren questioned, pointing.

“What was I supposed to do?” Nina frowned. “The girl was very strong and agile —the boy was scrawny and weak. I had to get creative.”

Savannah spluttered incoherently, unable to believe it.

“Well, you can go now,” Søren said firmly. “I expect that the Boss will be needing his girlfriend right about now.”

“Girlfriend?” Nina repeated, and her cheeks coloured an interesting shade of maroon. She seemed to then gasp in realisation and made an effort to cover her face, before coughing uncomfortably. “I’m the furthest thing from that. I’m his secretary. And…why would he need me right now? What has happened?” she frowned, straightening her skirt.

“He…had a tantrum,” Savannah summed up tactfully.

Nina did not react beyond closing her eyes for a moment and then opening them again, in a long blink; before she purposefully headed for the doors. Søren frowned, suddenly struck by the odd colour of her eyes.

“What is it?” Savannah asked when Nina was supposedly out of earshot.

“Nothing really,” the Trainer dismissed, reaching out to help Nadine up.

He then flinched as she slapped his hand away and back flipped to her feet, glaring at him. “What was that for?” he murmured, nursing his hand.

“Lewis, duck,” Nadine clicked her tongue and picked up her baseball bat, before knocking the top of the book pyramid over with a powerful swing.

“…Did you actually think I’d forgive you and accept your help after what happened?” she growled.

“Oh,” Søren mumbled, cowering away guiltily. “Right. But you have to believe us, Nadine. We didn’t rat you out. When would we have had the opportunity to do so?”

She snorted and helped her brother up, shoving Savannah aside. The redhead, however, was not about to admit defeat and not prove herself innocent. “Hey! We never gave your location away. We tried to save you when we were talking to Volcano Head,” she reasoned. “We were vouching for you when he totally

lost it.”

“And Savannah did save your souls with that light projection earlier,” Søren frowned. “You guys could have been reaped.”

Nadine glared harder, but Søren could tell that she did not have anything to say to that. “…Whatever,” she clipped, turning away and folding her arms. She knew that what they were saying had merit, but she would not admit it.

Søren took this as the closest he and Savannah would get to remorse, as well as a form of gratitude. His trainee then said his name, regaining his attention.

“What was that you said before? The ‘nothing really’?”

The Trainer paused, before recalling what she was talking about. “Oh —no. It was just that. Nothing really,” he assured.

She looked at him uncertainly but moved to pick the books from Lewis’ prison up off the floor. He may have told her that it was nothing really, but in reality, Søren was a concerned. Nina’s eyes were the colour of dravite tourmaline —a crystal bronze gemstone. Saying she was a Reaper would be a stretch —especially in her professional position. Death’s other employees were Spirits and willing souls chosen for their roles. Grim Reapers were designed with only one type of job in mind. So that was ruled out.

There was only one other explanation. Nina was a Vampyre —a Demon and human hybrid with blood the colour of dark, almost black, red. It would explain her maroon blush; her surprising strength; and her eyes. Because what Søren was really concerned about, was how her eyes changed from dravite tourmaline to red when had she left. She was thirsty.

The only other question he had was, how could the god of death have tamed such a creature?

✠

Savannah avoided speaking to her Trainer after their argument, and he could not blame her. But whenever their gazes met, she looked at him rather pityingly. And that made him frustrated.

Søren did not want her feeling sorry for him —under any circumstances. However, if she was really feeling sorry for him, what did she think that he was thinking of her? Did she think that he was still angry with her? And even if he was, he would not necessarily give her the silent treatment. There was too much going on around them for him to do that.

Søren just hoped that she did not feel that she could possibly ignore him for however long she had planned.

“Hey, isn’t this the ‘D’ section?” Savannah frowned as she was putting a book back into its slot. She held up a book with a gold embellished spine that resembled something vaguely religious. “This should be under ‘T’,” she explained. It was called The Book of Treaties. “…Or at least ‘B’.”

Nadine glanced at it before turning her nose up, while Lewis looked on with childlike interest. Søren was about to tell Savannah to just put it where it was supposed to be, but he then realised something. It was a bit too out of place to have just been accidentally misplaced.

He took it from her and opened it up, before both Savannah and Lewis leaned in on either side of his shoulders to read. The Trainer sighed but let them stay there as he skimmed over the page to which he had opened. “The Peace Treaty,” he read aloud. “Established 1980 AD.”

It went on to elaborate on an agreement between the Olympian gods to basically not wage war on each other as well as the human race.

“Wow,” Lewis whispered, causing Søren to grumble and lose his place. Which did not end up mattering, because the Detached then flipped the page and went backwards to earlier sections. “It’s like a book of contracts.”

“Why would someone go to such a length to put it here instead of its proper place though?” Savannah quipped.

“Isn’t that the whole point of this punishment?” Nadine sighed. “To put things in order?”

“Yeah, but so far everything has been jumbled up pretty understandably,” Savannah retorted.

“Hey look!” Lewis suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a page on which he had stopped. “This one says The Infidelity Treaty. Like…adultery?”

Savannah’s sharp golden eyes darted straight to the page to assess just how interesting the name was, before they widened and she gasped.

“Søren,” she whispered, finally addressing him. “I think that I know why this book was put here.”