Page 15 of Their Lethal Pet
He lifts a shoulder like he didn’t just insult me and my heritage. “Same thing.”
I stand. “Want to play with mykitty cat?” I dare him.
Orcus sighs loudly from the couch. “You’re both going to get us all killed on Monsters Night.” He says it like he’s annoyed, but I can hear the amusement lurking in his tone. He knows exactly what just happened—I purposely distracted Reaper.
There’s no changing Maliki’s mind.
Just like there would be no changing Reaper’s mind or mine about going on this mission with Orcus.
We both know the importance of finding Orcus’s mother. Just as we both know what’s at stake should anyone find out what we’re actually seeking in this other realm.
The three of us have been in this trio of ours for well over a thousand years. We might not be blood-related, but we consider ourselves to be brothers.
Reaper ignores my posturing and simply produces another one of his infamous weapons—this one a long throwing dagger.
He doesn’t release it, though. Just taunts me with it by playing the silver metal between his fingers, whirling it in a way most others could never replicate.
All Death Fae have their talents.
Reaper’s talent is weapons. He can create anything he desires with magic, then use it with absolute precision. He’s quite literally the perfect assassin.
“I want to see inside this other realm,” he says, his silver-blue eyes on me. They’re glittering in the office’s low lighting, just like his silvery hair. The long, thick locks are down today, dancing around his broad shoulders and giving him a wildish appearance.
He usually ties his hair back at the nape.
But it seems he’s feeling a little unhinged at the moment. It makes me wonder if he’s close to the edge of a psychotic episode—something caused by all the souls he’s required to eat to survive.
Unfortunately, that sort of diet comes with a downside.
One that often leads to, well, insanity.
“We won’t be able to look for long,” Orcus informs Reaper, drawing me back to the discussion about the other realm. “But I can bring up a small portal window. There was something I wanted to watch today anyway.”
That grabs my focus. “What did you want to watch?”
“A Day of the Choosing,” he mutters. “Basically the selection process for the Monsters Night sacrifices. I heard one of the elitist assholes talking about it and wanted to see what it entails.”
“You’re going to go to this realm wanting to murder a bunch of mortals, aren’t you?” Reaper muses as I sit beside Orcus once more.
“Probably,” our godlike friend admits.
“Mmm,” Reaper hums as he stands and wanders over to us on the couch. Rather than sit with us, he positions himself behind us, essentially guarding our backs. “Sounds yummy.”
“Only you would think so,” Orcus says to him.
I don’t comment. Primarily because I don’t need much motivation to rid the world of dark souls. If Reaper wants to snack on them while I do it, then I’ll slice and dice and give him a good, bloody meal.
Dark strands whirl around us as Reaper’s chaotic energy escapes from his skin, the long ribbons ashlike in appearance. Yet the obsidian wisps don’t leave an essence behind, the power all belonging to Reaper. Every day, he seems to lose just a little more control of his inky threads.
I’m not sure what’s causing it.
Age, perhaps. But it more likely has something to do with him lacking a mate. He needs a soul who can provide him with balance,anchorhim in the now rather than in the past.
Alas, he has no interest in such a concept.
Reaper has embraced his psychotic side.
Soon, there will be no pulling him back to our reality.
