Page 44 of Reaper's Ruin
I closed my eyes, recalling the horrible moment when I first saw the dagger. The curved blade. The strange, swirling symbols etched down its length that seemed to glow with an inner light. The hilt, wrapped in some dark material and set with small blue stones.
When I opened my eyes, a perfect, three-dimensional image of the dagger hovered above the sphere, rotating slowly like a hologram.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. “That’s incredible.”
The illusion was so detailed, so perfect, it was as if the actual weapon floated before us. But Morden was frowning, shaking his head.
“The details aren’t clear enough,” he said. “The markings—can you remember exactly?”
I leaned closer, studying the projected image. “No, they were more... like this.” I tried again, and to my amazement, the image shifted, the symbols reorganizing to match my mind’s image.
“And the stones in the hilt were bigger,” I added. “Deeper blue.”
The illusion changed again, responding to my description.
“The blade was serrated on one edge,” I continued, watching in fascination as the image adjusted itself again. “And the point was hooked slightly, like a talon.”
For several minutes, I refined the image, directing the crystal to add or alter details until it matched my memory exactly.
“That’s it,” I said as I stared at the floating hologram. “That’s the dagger. Do you recognize it?”
Grinning with pride I’d done it, I glanced at Morden. His face had gone pale, and he was staring at the floating dagger as if it might suddenly become real and strike him down.
Morden swallowed visibly, then shook his head. “No. Never seen anything like it. Sorry I can’t help you.” He waved his hand, and the image disappeared, the crystal’s light fading. “No charge for the attempt. Best of luck elsewhere.”
He was lying. It was written all over his face in the sweat beading on his forehead, in the way his eyes darted nervously to the door as if calculating an escape route.
Rhyker clearly saw it too. Before Morden could step back, Rhyker’s hand shot out, closing around the merchant’s wrist with enough force to make the fae wince.
“Try again,” Rhyker said, his voice soft but laced with menace. “And this time, don’t insult our intelligence.”
“I told you, I’venever—”
In one fluid motion, Rhyker vaulted over the counter, dragging Morden with him and slamming the smaller man against the wall. The weapons displayed there rattled with the impact.
“We both know that’s not true,” Rhyker said, his face inches from the terrified merchant’s. “I can see the recognition in your eyes. You know exactly what that dagger is. Tell me. Now.”
Morden’s eyes widened with fear. “Please, I can’t—if I tell you, they’ll kill me!”
“And if you don’t tell me,” Rhyker replied, his voice dropping to a near whisper that somehow sounded more terrifying than a shout, “I’ll kill you. The difference is, they aren’t here right now. I am.”
I should have been horrified. A week ago—before I died, before my world expanded to include reapers and fae and magic—I would have been. I would have stepped in, told Rhyker to stop, insisted there were better ways.
But something had changed in me. Maybe it was dying. Maybe it was seeing my mother’s broken body. Maybe it was the realization that gentle words wouldn’t get us answers about who had murdered us and why. And without those answers, I may never see my mother again.
Or maybe it was the dark thrill that ran through me watching Rhyker like this—powerful, dangerous, willing to do whatever it took to help me.
Forme.
Is it wrong that I’m attracted to a guy who’s essentially a serial killer?I thought, watching as he pressed Morden harder against the wall. But Rhyker wasn’t just a killer. He was a Reaper—a force of nature, a necessity in the balance of things. And he was using that terrible power to help me.
That was... kind of incredibly hot.
God, death has messed with my moral compass.
“That dagger was custom created for a powerful family.” Morden was saying, his voice shaking. “They have eyes everywhere.”
“Who?” Rhyker demanded.
