Chapter 27: Chapter 27

S Ø R E N

HIS MIND WAS taking him back to 1836, but this time he knew why. It was an aspect which Søren never wanted to consider. The shadows around his and his father’s deaths were the only ones which he did not embrace —the only ones which could maul him.

In the flashbacks, the duke’s cries muted as his face contorted in desperation and fear. But mostly anger. He was furious with his son because he had not manage to save him. When Søren acknowledged that fact, he then heard the words he was screaming.

‘You are just like your mother.

So distracted by infatuation that you forget

about what is going on around you.

This is all your fault. All of it.

If it was not for you and your damned noble-born

whore, I would have lived!’

Angelina’s laughter was echoing in the background, but it was piercing his ears. His father kept repeating the words over and over, but they faded as the laughter became overpowering.

Søren knew what was happening. His brain was trying to force him to think of a possibility he could not bear to evaluate.

Not her. She could not have…

…It was not her fault.

Yet a part of him had wondered if Angelina had known all along, even then. Søren squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, and the images swiftly dissipated. He then started at the feeling of someone suddenly pulling on his sleeve, and he consequently staggered into Nadine. She was holding onto his jacket and tugging him away from the path he had been walking. He whipped around and saw the surprised face of Lewis, and the concerned one of Savannah —though she glanced elsewhere when their gazes met.

She was still pissed off.

“Søren, you seriously need to stop doing that,” Nadine snorted, steering the Trainer away from a telephone line pole. “I was really tempted to just let you run into the pole.”

Søren breathed out and shrugged, before letting out a chuckle. “Thanks for not letting that happen. And…I was just somewhere else, I guess.”

“Yeah, that much is obvious,” Nadine grinned, nudging him. “What were you thinking about this time?”

“…Stuff,” he murmured.

“Stuff, he says,” Nadine mocked the Reaper, making quotation marks in the air. “It’s probably about some girl.”

Søren then choked, spluttering and wheezing while she laughed. He coughed sheepishly, not bothering to retaliate. She was simply trying to push his buttons. And if he let her, she would only tease him all the more.

“Leave him alone,” Savannah surprised Søren by coming to his rescue. “At least he’s actually been in relationships.”

Lewis burst out in laughter, insinuating that the taunt held some truth.

“I’ve just never been interested,” Nadine defended herself. “Some people have had other things on their minds in life.”

Søren was inclined to side with her. Nadine knew what arranged marriages had been like, and the life of a noble child. As a millennial, Savannah simply did not understand.

“What exactly do you have against my trainee?” the Trainer asked Nadine after witnessing their childish bickering.

“It’s nothing personal,” she clarified, sticking her nose in the air. “I just know a spoiled brat when I see one.”

Søren could not argue with that. He kept to himself though, ignoring the tension. For a while afterwards, he thought about Melchior.

Ideally, the Trainer would like to see the blond get set alight and thrown into a ditch. But unfortunately, his dreams never come true, so he would have to deal with seeing Melchior every day in his existence. Søren wondered whether the he thought about what had happened between them at all. Did he care. Did he miss them. Did he miss…him?

Søren nearly burst out laughing at that thought. Missing him was probably not something of which Melchior was capable. But the Trainer did. Not that he would ever admit it out loud —but he missed him.

…Sometimes.

More not than often. The words miss and hate often blurred for Søren.

He knew that Melchior did not hate him. The blond was not indifferent either. He was a puzzle. And he was always the same, whether the two were together or apart: a narcissistic, emotionally unpredictable asshole. Maybe the Trainer just attracted people with ulterior motives. Perhaps it was his curse.

Søren then glanced at Savannah, gritting his teeth. Would he let his friendship with her crash and burn as well, because of one mistake?

She was smiling —and even he could tell that it hid something deeply buried which she did not want to unearth. But he had to speak to her. They could not continue to pretend that the fight did not exist.

“Savannah,” he called.

She actually turned, her feigned amusement wavering. “What is it?”

“I have to talk to you.”

Nadine and Lewis immediately and suddenly found something to talk about, giving the two Reapers some much appreciated privacy.

“What do you want to talk about?” Savannah clipped as she fell into step with her Trainer behind the Detached.

“The fight.”

She pressed her lips into a line. “I…actually want to discuss something else first,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Okay.”

“So, in the library…when we found The Book of Treaties, you suggested that someone might have wanted to hide the book. I mean, why else would it be in such an obscure location, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, well —you shot that idea down pretty quickly,” Søren reasoned, narrowing his eyes. “It could have ‘ended up there’, as you put it.”

“I know what I said,” she huffed. “It’s just…I only shot it down because…a sudden thought occurred to me at that time.”

Søren paused and studied the hesitancy in her body language. He wondered what exactly the thought had been to cause her to snap unexpectedly. What exactly was she suspecting?

“Which would be?” he whispered.

She glanced downwards at her boots. “What if my father had put it there? To hide it from the Olympians.”

Søren’s eyes widened and he finished the idea. “…Because you were born, and your existence violates the treaty.”

“Exactly.”

“But are you not already technically dead?” the Trainer frowned. “The Olympians shouldn’t be able to do anything if so —at least that’s my opinion. You don’t pose a threat to the mundane world.”

The redhead looked a little hopeful, but then the worry returned. “What about the divine?” she whispered. “I already have light projection. And you’ve seen what I can do when I get furious. I do the same thing Thanatos does, but to a lesser degree.” Then she paused, clenching her fists at her sides. “…Who knows what else I can do?” she barely whispered.

Søren hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He should say something comforting or encouraging. But he did not know where to start. Of course, she was afraid. That much he understood.

He frowned and took in the immensity of the situation. “…You are right. We don’t know what you’re capable of. But…that doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Søren pointed out. She looked at him sideways. “They don’t know your powers. So, what if you passed it off to the Olympians as how much of a danger you don’t pose?”

Her face suddenly lit up at that. “You really think that I could get away with hiding my powers?”

“Well…Maybe not with Thanatos and our friends now knowing.”

“Oh, so they are our friends now?” Savannah smirked.

Søren scoffed childishly. “Whatever. Even though Nadine doesn’t seem to like either of us, acquaintances doesn’t sound applicable anymore.”

Savannah chuckled. Then her smile fell into a frown again. “…If I can’t hide, then what am I supposed to do?” she whispered.

“You mean what are we supposed to do,” Søren corrected her, softening his expression. “You’re not alone, Savannah. We —and I can’t specify who, but it’s not just me. We will all be here for you. All of us.”

She held his gaze, and it was like an understanding was suddenly found between them. Everything she had done now made sense: it had been out of suspicion and fear for her life. Fortunately, it was not clear if anything could be done to her now that was a Grim Reaper.

She was technically no longer alive.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, Søren,” she then insisted, veering towards him along the sidewalk so that she could lower her voice. “Especially not Thanatos. But I could be…wrong,” she admitted with some difficulty, “So let’s put a pin in this conversation.”

The Trainer raised an eyebrow, still frowning. There was something that he did not understand. “So…why exactly did you tell me?”

It was not that he did not want to know —it was just the problem of telling him if she so desperately wanted to keep it on the down low. It would have been better to keep it to herself until she was sure. That was not to imply that Søren could not keep a secret —but he was under moral obligation to speak the truth. If someone were to ask about it, he would tell them everything; no questions asked.

But he did not want to find himself in that situation.

“Because I needed to share the idea with someone I trust,” came the unexpected reply. Søren’s brows rose.

She trusted him, and he could not understand why. In his opinion, he had not been the most particularly trustworthy person up until then. So, on what basis could she conclude that she trusted him?

Søren scratched the back of his neck as she looked on for his response. He averted his gaze and frowned. He could not seem to formulate any words.

“You aren’t sure why I trust you, are you?” Savannah then sighed, as if reading his mind. “Well, let me put it like this. You could have left a long time ago, right? And yet…you’re still here.”

“But…I don’t have a choice,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry about earlier —I did not mean to mislead you. It’s not that I don’t lie; I just do my best to avoid it. As noble as you’re making me sound, I’m really not doing this out of free will. I’m not allowed to leave you until you’re ready.”

She smiled and her eyes twinkled. “Then I hope I’m never ready. And it’s okay —if being here is part of your job —”

“It was at first,” Søren admitted.

“And…now?”

“Now, I’m choosing to stick around.”

She gave him a mocking look of disbelief. “Thanks. It’d be nice to have and keep a good friend around here.”

“You want to be friends with me that badly?” Søren teased.

“Well, I don’t see many other candidates for the available positions,” she teased back, grinning. He smiled back. He did not have a best friend, but Savannah would certainly make for an interesting one.

He thought back to his first so-called friend. Angelina.

Savannah was far sweeter than Angelina, and less bossy too. Her hair was redder and wavier, as well as thicker than Angelina’s thin but longer auburn hair in ringlets. Savannah’s smile reached her eyes, and not much seemed to bother her. Angelina’s smile never made her eyes light up —not since her father had died. She gotten more serious after that as well, and found the grounds on which to turn into a manipulative trickster. Yet she still held Søren’s heart, even if it meant twisting and squeezing it to her bidding.

The Trainer should say something.

But he did not want to tell Savannah the truth. Not yet. Because he had also fallen in love with Angelina —and he did not want to end up repeating history. The last time that he had felt anything for anyone was Melchior. Before him, Søren had not been willing to fall ever again. But what happened between them had loosened the chains on the cage he kept around his heart —not enough to open it, since he had not been devastated when they split.

But it had been enough to make him cry. Søren frowned and thought inwardly. He was barely over Melchior.

Then suddenly the Boss’ words of warning rang in the back of his mind. Training Savannah was a professional obligation. Being her friend, was his own choice. And nothing more.

“You know…you would be the first trainee to even consider becoming friends with me,” Søren eventually spoke.

“Why? Did you drive everyone else away?”

He frowned in offence as Savannah laughed lightly —but her amusement faded when she realised that his expression remained sullen. Søren simply shrugged, wishing that it was indifference.

“…No one thought I was worth knowing.”