18

Vic

Things were far from all right. Bobby had killed his father. Vic knew it was to save Adam, but it wasn’t like Vic could help them cover it up.

Not like how I helped with Annie, he thought.

And Vic had helped. He hadn’t said anything about Dr. Binder’s wife and her disappearance. But it was different, wasn’t it? Annie Binder was long gone before they’d killed her body. Mercy had killed people, and it wasn’t going to stop.

Vic hated the thought of drawing his gun. He hated that it meant he might have to shoot someone, but if it came down to saving a life, he would. He was trained for it but wasn’t certain how he’d ever live with the memory.

But Adam wasn’t. He wasn’t an officer of the law, and Vic had stood by, helped even, while Adam put arrows into Annie’s body.

Was this really different? Vic shook his head. Of course it was.

Bobby had been a teenager. He hadn’t been trained. He hadn’t been law enforcement. Maybe a judge would have seen it how the Binders did, but they hadn’t come forward. They’d buried the guy in the backyard like a dead pet and pretended it hadn’t happened. And Adam had known about it for a while now.

All the guilt and worry about his brother didn’t make it okay.

Vic thought of Jesse, about how Vic would react if he’d been in that situation. He couldn’t answer that, and it bugged him. Normally he was good at the hard questions.

“Dammit, Adam,” Vic muttered.

“What?” Argent asked.

“Nothing,” Vic said. “Just talking to myself.”

They reached the top of the little hill. The trailer at the bottom was almost completely hidden by the slope and the trees. Vic wondered why they’d set it there, not moved it to the top, into the light.

Now he knew it was because they’d had something to hide.

“Hold on tight,” Argent said, drawing Vic back to the moment. She offered her hand. “The transition will be hard.”

“I know what to expect,” Vic said. “Adam’s been there. He told me about it.”

“Adam was there in spirit,” Silver said, offering Vic his hand as he took Argent’s free one. “Not body.”

“Then I guess we’ll see how tough Reapers are,” Vic said, taking Silver’s hand.

The elves ran cool to the touch, or maybe Vic was feverish with anger and worry.

Cold white light filled the space between them, so bright that Vic closed his eyes.

A stretching feeling began, like his body was being pulled upward, into the sky, while his feet remained planted on the earth. It continued. Vic spun inside himself, losing the sense of his extremities, except for the hold the two elves had on him.

The air grew colder, chilling until it burned. Vic couldn’t feel his toes, his feet on the earth. He felt stretched, in two places at once. He frayed at the edges, dissolving. It should hurt, but didn’t, like the warm feeling they said you got before you froze to death.

Then something encased him, like steel left outside in winter. A different kind of cold. It wasn’t the ice of the elves’ magic. This was something inside Vic, rising like armor to shield him. The Reaper had stirred.

The light faded, and they were somewhere else.

Vic looked down at his hands, at his clothes. He was unchanged. Whatever the power was, whatever the Reaper was, it remained inside him but unseen. He wasn’t Adam. He didn’t have magic.

Thinking of Adam, Vic put a hand to his chest and felt for the thread connecting them. It was there, unbroken. Yeah, he was still pissed, but their connection was intact. Vic had closed himself off, knew that he could do that now.

He’d been honest about how he felt, his anger and how much he cared.

Adam was there too, and hearing it had filled Vic with an excited warmth that had almost pushed away the broken-glass feeling of being lied to. Still, he didn’t open himself back up. He needed some time in his own head, in his own heart. He needed to deal with whatever lay ahead.

He looked up, saw where they’d brought him, and muttered, “Definitely not in Kansas anymore . . .”

“Not even close,” Argent said.

Alfheimr looked like paradise, like something from a movie, not quite real.

The shift to daylight was the least of it.

Cities of white stone floated through the pure air. They drifted lazily, slowly spinning over the bluest sea. The water glittered so bright it almost hurt Vic’s eyes. It was warmer here, but occasional tendrils of colder air spoke of looming winter. A flock of green-tinted birds flew in a funnel formation. The cliffs beneath them were chalky gray, marble lined with sapphire crystals.

It looked like a dream, but Vic knew his own imagination couldn’t put anything this real together.

He inhaled, tasting the ocean air.

“Will I be all right here?” Vic asked.

“Eat nothing,” Argent said. “Drink nothing.”

“These are the Shallows,” Silver said, nodding to the beach and the nearby floating city.

“He means you’ll be safe here for a while,” Argent explained. At his pointed look she added, “A few days at least.”

“What happens if I stay longer?” Vic asked.

“Years may pass below,” Silver said. “Let’s not let that happen.”

At the center of the drifting towers was an amphitheater, like the kind they used for plays in ancient Greece.

“You guys are big on that design,” Vic said, noting the columns and pediments in the distant buildings.

“We favor the classics,” Argent said.

“Too much sometimes,” Silver said, sounding sad. He turned to Vic. “This place is for the Council of Races. You are the first human to stand here, ever. You may be called to address them, all those who have a say in how we rule the realms.”

“What are you saying?” Vic asked.

“He’s saying don’t screw it up,” Argent said.

“No pressure,” Vic muttered.

The elves changed as they walked. Their clothing shifted from Silver’s pinstripe suit and Argent’s casual streetwear to something more formal, long silk jackets with high colors and perfect, platinum embroidery. They wore their swords, long and thin, on their backs.

“Do me. Do me,” Vic joked.

Argent seemed to deliberate.

“Allow me,” Silver said.

Stepping to Vic, he took him by the jacket and brushed as if removing lint.

Vic’s clothes unwove and rewove completely, almost like a screen loading an image.

His jeans, shirt, and jacket became a black suit, with dotted lines that drew skulls and bones in a slightly darker thread.

“Damn,” Vic said.

“You approve?” Silver asked, his eyebrow lifted.

“Yeah,” Vic said, taking a step back as much to get a better look as to put some distance between himself and Silver.

The black silk tie was clipped with a little silver skull pin.

It wasn’t his usual style, but it fit his role here, the part he was playing. He could get used to the look.

“You’ll need these,” Argent said, handing over her sunglasses.

“I hate to dull the sights,” Vic said, looking at them.

“We don’t know how much of you would survive contact with an immortal who doesn’t bother with a glamor,” Silver said. “Please keep them on.”

“You like me,” Vic teased, edging sideways to bump shoulders with the prince.

“Adam likes you, and he is important to us,” Silver growled. “Therefore you are important to us, to proving our case.”

“You like me,” Vic repeated, putting the glasses on.

“Just try not to die,” Silver said, walking faster to avoid contact.

“Can I keep the suit when this is over?” Vic asked.

“You really do take all of this in stride, don’t you?” Argent asked.

Vic shrugged. “Maybe it’s a defense mechanism. Honestly, I’m just happy, blessed, to still be here. If Adam hadn’t saved me, I’d be dead.”

“You are truly unique, Vicente,” Argent said, smiling. She didn’t say it in a way that seemed insulting, but rather like how she complimented Adam’s differentness, like he surprised her in the best way possible. Gently, she added, “As my brother said, try not to die.”

“I’ll give it my best,” Vic said.

He had no idea what he was doing, not here, not with the elves, and certainly not when it came to being a Reaper.

So far this trip had only brought more questions and disappointment. Thinking of Adam gave him a sinking feeling. All of Vic’s worry had morphed into something else, something heavier.

As fantastic as this place was, he didn’t want to be here. Still, if he could stop a war and save lives, then he’d testify. He hadn’t been a cop long, but he’d already had to go before a judge and give statements. He knew how to handle that sort of procedure, and floating towers and immortal beings aside, this was just another type of court.

The three of them marched on. The air here was so clean, so oxygen rich. The hills around them were coated in green heather tipped in pale purple blooms. Vic could breathe easier.

It was beautiful.

All he could smell was the ocean and the little bit of rot that always accompanied a beach. He decided that was beautiful too, that if it hadn’t been there, Alfheimr would be too much like a painting. That bit of decay told him it was real.

A flock of birds took flight and there were more of them than Vic could have counted.

The city loomed, growing slowly larger.

“You guys walk a lot more than I expected,” Vic said.

“What do you mean?” Silver asked. He looked a little annoyed, but Vic suspected that was a front. The elven prince wasn’t half as surly as he pretended to be. Perhaps he was just worried.

“I mean you like to drive,” Vic said, nodding to Argent. “But when you get there you park far away.”

“It’s a type of courtesy,” Silver said. “We can sense each other’s approach. Arriving this way announces us, shows we mean no harm.”

“And it means that someone crashing the party is being extra rude,” Argent said, her eyebrows lifting.

Vic was learning to pay close attention to her expressions. She was good at hiding what she was thinking or feeling, but not that she was hiding something, like how a perp would avert their gaze when they were guilty. Elves were subtle, but Vic felt like he was starting to crack the code.

“But this is your home,” Vic said, nodding to the city ahead. “Isn’t it?”

“She’s talking about another,” Silver said. He tilted his head as if listening for something he couldn’t quite hear.

Vic felt it, a faint prickle on the back of his neck.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Death,” Silver said.

Yes, something inside Vic said as soon as Silver spoke her name. She was here.

“We should hurry,” Argent said.

Trees lined the marble-paved path to the amphitheater’s entrance. They were tight columns of silvery blue, like junipers, but their berries were a perfect black.

The amphitheater lay ahead, floating amidst the towers. The whole city turned slightly, and Vic wished Tilla had fed him something less greasy.

“Problems, Vicente?” Argent asked.

“Just getting my sea legs,” he said.

She smiled and led him on.

The theater was clean, the columns and white marble benches sparkling, except the layer of fine sand beneath their feet.

The sea elves had a presence, though their numbers were nothing close to what they’d brought to their own meeting. Vic guessed they’d packed their own hall with everyone who served them. These were just the rulers.

The gnomes too, were here, as were some of the folk Vic recognized from the attempted coup.

Everyone else was an odd mix of too beautiful humans and more alien or even monstrous things. There were lizardmen, with broad, sweeping tails. A pair of bulbous-nosed, purple-skinned giants sat politely at the back. Vic wondered how they didn’t tip the platform.

He walked between Argent and Silver, who paused to speak with a delegation of antlered moose people before politely greeting a trio of crow-headed women dressed like proper Victorian ladies. There were fox people, short and unbearably cute except for their canine teeth and sharp, catlike eyes.

The sights added to the dizziness. Vic didn’t know where to look or who or what he was looking at.

“I need to sit down,” Vic said to Argent.

“What’s the matter, Vicente?” a familiar voice asked in a southern accent.

A grinning Black woman approached him. She had spectacles and big, natural hair. Vic wanted to smile back. Her cheer was infectious. She wore a purple dress adorned with sequins that might have been actual stars. It showed every inch of her generous figure. She clutched a tall glass of iced tea in her hand.

“It’s all just a bit much,” Vic said, waving at the floating city. “I’ll be all right.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “After all, it’s all about you today.”

“You’re not a skeleton?” he asked, gesturing to her dress.

“I like to mix it up,” she said. Her grin widened as she nudged him.

“Your presence is unexpected, ma’am,” Silver said with more deference than Vic had thought the elf capable of.

“Well, I figure if you intend for Vicente to plead your case, I should be on hand to vouch for his credentials,” she said.

“Word travels fast,” Vic said.

“Quite,” Argent said, eyes narrowing.

“Shall we get to it then?” Death said, waving a hand toward the theater’s stage.

Vic nodded and followed her. It wasn’t that she didn’t intimidate him. Hell, she terrified him more than anyone, Argent included. It was just that with Death there, it was like having his boss working a case with him. Who else had greater authority?

Still, Vic hadn’t interacted with her much. He got the sense that as long as he worked for her, was one of her Reapers, she’d have his back, but what happened if he stopped being a Reaper? Who would protect him then?

“Hey,” he asked. “Ma’am?”

“Yes, Vicente?”

“Can I get some training?” he asked. “I literally have no idea how any of this is supposed to work.”

She hummed understanding.

“You are special,” she said. “Usually Reapers don’t even know they’re Reapers, but I had to make you a bit different.”

“To catch Mercy?” he guessed.

“Yes,” she said. “When this business is done, we’ll talk about what comes next.”

“But there will be a next, right?” Vic asked. Because he had to. Because she could end him in a moment if she felt like it.

Something sparked in her eye, a little light that flashed and died.

She smiled, sipped her tea, and walked toward the stage.

Silver and Argent brought Vic to the front row. They stood. Everyone stood. Well, those beings with legs stood. Some winged creatures hovered. Other things floated in the air. Some rose on their coils, their iridescent scales brilliant in the sun.

Death took the stage.

“Well,” she said. “Look at all of you.”

There were murmurs, whispers, one or two gasps.

“You must wonder what I’m doing here,” she said.

“Yes,” a voice called. It was the Sea Queen. “Why have you revealed yourself after all of this time?”

“Moments of great change require a witness,” Death said, meeting the queen’s gaze. “And then you lot had to go and involve one of my Reapers in this mess.”

The Sea Queen flinched.

Death still smiled, but there was an unmistakable sharpness when she continued, “I came because he works for me, and what a treat it is.”

“It was not my intention to involve you,” Argent said, sounding apologetic. “But he was with me when we were attacked.”

They weren’t using his name. They were trying to keep him anonymous. His mom, Jesse—Vic had no doubt that some of the things in attendance could be nasty, and his family had no idea that the spirit world even existed.

Adam wasn’t safe either, even with his magic. Vic glanced to Argent and Silver. They were right. Adam needed protection.

“Your own brother attacked you,” the Sea Queen said. “You had no business infiltrating our court.”

“Your vassals chained us to a wall and left us there to drown when you carried out your insane plan,” Argent said. “And let’s not forget your foolish attempt to murder my brother.”

“You broke our knight’s arm,” the Sea Queen said.

“She drew first,” Argent said with a shrug. Vic could taste snow. “We’d be at war if I hadn’t intervened.”

“We are at war,” the Sea Queen spat. “The mortals are killing the world.”

“They don’t even know we’re here,” Argent said.

“Which is why we should drown them now,” the queen replied. “Strike with complete surprise and begin anew.”

She said it so casually. Vic knew some people thought that way, felt that way, but he’d never expected to hear someone just suggest killing billions of people like they were wiping out gophers in their backyard.

“Your single-mindedness is impressive,” Silver interjected. “But it’s also wrong. Just like it was wrong of you to attack an emissary who came in peace.”

The Sea Queen opened her mouth to speak but bristled suddenly. The assembly fell quiet.

Vic didn’t sense what shushed them. Then a rush of force, a blast of cold like a sudden northern wind rippled over the amphitheater. It ripped along the aisles and over the crowd, displacing hats, ruffling clothes and feathers, sending the flying things into a dizzy spin.

“What is it?” Vic asked into the silence.

“Father,” Argent said. She looked to Silver.

The prince’s face had frozen. His eyes were even colder.