Reapers - Master of Souls (Reapers Chronicles Book III)

1 - Search (1 of 2)

So, how did I get here?

I repeated the question, this time, audibly. "How?"

My eyes jumped from one direction to another. I tried to stretch my legs, only for my toes to hit the cylindrical wall that enclosed me. Millions of needles pierced through my limbs. There wasn't much room for exercise in my fish tank of a private cell.

I would call myself lucky eating isn't a necessity in Halo, which would probably explain the absence of a restroom. Hector called it a vat, or whatever those cylindrical glass enclosures mad scientists use as artificial wombs for cloning were. At times, I thought it was pretty cool being inside one of these things. It was like being Alice, but without the empowering T-virus.

Whenever the main lamps were turned on, the room outside my tank would be sparkly white; ceiling, floors and all. Now, the only source of light was the small blinking buttons on the consoles attached to each of the sixty-two smaller tanks inside the massive room. I counted, yes. There was not much to do inside my confinement but stare through the glass enclosure, maybe guess if it was day or night. Of course, in Halo, it was always night.

If I was lucky, I would overhear conversations from Hector and Millie. But even outside news was a delicacy nowadays.

I curled in a corner, the cold wall against my back offering no consolation. And I cried for all the faces I would never see again. For all the things I would never say. For the possibilities that would never be a reality.

So again, I would be back in square one: remembering.

Unfortunately, the undertakings that had brought me to this predicament would take a long time to explain. Luckily, I got plenty of time. In fact, it was all I had.

How long had I been here? I could never tell these days. But I could remember myself handing the wheel over to Alessandra. Every time I tried to look back, the story always started at that point.

I remembered promising Vladimir a distraction so they could all escape Hector's army of Undead. I remembered surrendering myself in exchange for Vincent, Alex, Max and a little boy. But the moment Alessandra grabbed a hold of the controllers, she shoved me back into that imaginary cave of hers. The place was just a slice of her fixation and yet, I was the prisoner there.

It was the right thing to do, Aramis, I remembered telling myself that. Stupid, but heroic.

I could remember Alessandra's tainted life force cursing through me with a searing cold. It was as though I was submerged in a tub full of ice. I couldn't breathe, much less move. All I could feel was her loss, her pain, her rage so deep and ancient I could bleed.

Tears streamed from the corner of my eye. I let Alessandra's darkness consume me. I swallowed back the sobs and hoped it would all end quickly.

Slaughter them all. I don't care, I groaned.

"Not yet," Alessandra hissed.

I remembered finding her sitting at the mouth of her cave. Her filthy blond hair covered her face so only her green eye was visible. And the sheer hate in it petrified me. On her palm was a piece of ember. She staggered towards me and forced my mouth open. Cringing, I choked out a plea. Before my voice could scrape out of my throat, she shoved the ember into my mouth, burning my insides and devouring every bit of me.

I thought I knew pain. I was wrong.

With the pain rushed a jumble of disorganized memories.

Alessandra had gone through centuries of torture. She was a witch once. A nurse during some plague. A housewife during the civil war. A horticulturalist. A boarding school teacher. Then me.

She flooded me with glimpses of her past six deaths, all of which were from natural causes. Nonetheless, all of them were well, deaths.

I remembered opening my eyes and finding myself still standing at the foyer of Pilgrim Reaper's castle. By then, I had hoped Alessandra had already gone agro on the enemies. That was why I had given up to her in the first place. To my dismay, none of that had happened.

Hector stood in front of me, his face too near for comfort. With his fingers, he lifted my chin, forcing me to look at his wide pale eyes.

I wanted to stare him down, spit on his face, but I couldn't.

Do something! I yelled at Alessandra.

My lips pulled up into a smile against my will. Alessandra was in charge. She let me watch, nothing more.

A bronze-skinned familiar hurried to us, bowing as he did. It was Calyx.

He was with Saul in Sinclair Mansion when Vincent, Byron Flynn and I were looking for the Door to Halja. Vincent killed Saul that day.

"Master Hector," he addressed, inconspicuously throwing me a glare through his lashes. "My master requests that the captive be held in one of the rooms in the Grandmaster's floor immediately. Our cabal shall be in charge of guarding her until"—he glanced at the battle outside—"the situation is resolved."

Grinning lopsidedly, Hector paid no attention to Calyx and kept on scrutinizing my face.

"And father?" he asked.

Calyx swallowed, glancing up at Hector quick enough so he wouldn't be caught. "Still recuperating, I'm afraid. Master Cairo reckons he would see the captive once he feels better."

Hector's grin widened. "Then it won't be much trouble if I give Aramis here a tour of the castle, would it?"

He started to refuse, but hesitated when Hector flashed him a glare.

"I suppose it won't, Master," he cowered.

Hector approached the familiar and tapped him on the cheek. "You're not as dumb as I thought, Calyx. Good answer."

Alessandra glanced at the courtyard.

The circle of defense Vladimir's group had made was gone. I couldn't even distinguish them from the stampeding Undead.

A mixture of groaning and screaming filled my ears. The ground shook, telling me that at least Belial was alive.

My insides squirmed in panic as I tried to spot Vincent with no success.

"Then, let's begin the tour, shall we?" Hector told me, pushing aside the lock of hair that fell on my face. "Because once Father wakes up, he would get right to business. Now, where's the fun in that?"

Every inch of me wanted to summon my scythe and hack him blind, but my hand barely twitched.

What are you doing!? I scolded Alessandra. We had a deal! And now you're just letting him capture us?

Her grim laughter echoed in my head, making me cringe. "You let them capture us," she corrected.

Good point.