“I knew he was dead. But what frightened me more was how little it affected me.”
The cafeteria chatter is quieter today. Students cast weary glances at one another. Their usual giggling and shouting is reduced to hushed gossiping. Even Ethan is cold today. He left class without a word to me. I’ve thought over everything I could have done to upset him. I can’t think of anything, but I do know why a blanket of dread hangs over the school today.
Brennan is missing.
His parents placed missing posters all over town. Police are everywhere, scouring the streets, visiting homes, and interrogating students. Greenfield is in a panic. I can’t say I’ll miss his lame insults every morning, but guilt squeezes my stomach.
I pick at the leftover pasta on my plate as reality once again rears its head. There is a monster in the woods, and I’ve done nothing to stop it. I’ve been so focused on myself and my training, allowing the monster to quietly slip into the back of my mind. Once again, I’m the only one who knows the truth. Brennan is probably dead.
“You’re not alone,” Maggie says, sitting beside me.
Hannah and JJ return from the lunch line and sit across from us.
“Hey Autumn. Hey Maggie.” Hannah greets us both. She’s happily grown accustomed to having Maggie around, even if she can’t see her. “Take a look at you-know-who’s table.” She nods to the table at the far end of the cafeteria where Brennan’s friends sit. All of them are hunched over a large map, likely putting their heads together to find him. “I doubt we have much time before the entire chess club goes searching in those woods for him.”
“We should warn them,” I say.
Hannah scoffs with a french fry in her mouth. “Something tells me that will have the opposite effect.”
“Well we can’t just let them go in there,” I reply.
“If I went missing, would anything stop you from going in there?” Hannah asks pointedly. I don’t reply. “I’m sure that isn’t their first option, but eventually they’ll get brave.” She swallows and takes a deep breath. “Besides, there’s something else.” She anxiously looks at JJ. He nods back at her assuredly.
“The suspense is killing me guys,” I mock.
“We found something.” She says, finally. “We did a bit more digging on Cedar Hollow and Greenfield’s history. And, well…” She pulls a stack of papers from her backpack and sets them on the table before me.
The first page is a copy of an old newspaper ad with a plat map of Greenfield. Large type is printed across the top.
SETTLE GREENFIELD
PLANT YOUR FUTURE TODAY FOR A BRIGHTER TOMORROW
THOUSANDS OF ACRES OF LUSH FOREST AND ROLLING MEADOWS
PRICED LOW
“Okay… ?” I say, narrowing my eyes. “It’s an old ad.”
“Look at the bottom corner,” JJ says.
In the bottom right corner of the ad is an elegant W stamp, perfectly matching the one on the gates into Ward’s property. Beside it is a signature. Sir Arthur Ward.
“So, Dr. Ward’s grandfather sold the land for Greenfield,” I deduce aloud.
“That’s not even the weird part,” Hannah says and points to the edge of the plat map. “See this little restricted section in the woods? That’s exactly where Cedar Hollow’s ruins are.”
“They’re old ruins, that’s not that crazy,” I reply.
“I thought so too, but then we found this.” She slides the top page off to reveal pages and pages of newspaper clippings.
Headlines like “GHASTLY SIGHTINGS”, “CREATURES OF THE NIGHT”, and “THE DEVIL OF THICKET GROVE” paint a scene of superstition and fear around the woods. Each of them are authored by the same man, Sir Arthur Ward.
“Looks like Dr. Ward’s grandfather was a bit of a blogger himself,” Hannah continues. “He spread these stories about the woods, even naming them Thicket Grove.”
“He probably wanted to keep people out,” I reply. “There is a monster in the woods after all.”
“Then why sell the land in the first place?” JJ asks bluntly.
His question sits in my skull for a moment. My reality begins to unravel as I question the parts of Ward I wanted to ignore. If the monster did exist back then, why would Arthur build a town right next to it?
“His family still owns that land. Did he ever mention that?” Hannah asks.
I shake my head uneasily.
“Look, I’m not saying Dr. Ward is the bad guy here,” She adds. “But he clearly knows more than he’s telling you.”
“Okay. So, what do you want me to do?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“We need to get into those ruins,” JJ replies.
Dad used to say never to trust only one source of truth. The truth is never that linear. It’s a web of happenstance, consequences, and human desire. Even myths are lined with truth. But what if my only resource is Dr. Ward? I trust him. My dad did. Or did I invent that? How much of my own life is exactly as I recall? Much of it was a lie after all. I guess I just hoped that the lies had stopped. Stupid.
The soft, high-pitched ring of tinnitus echoes in my skull as I stand outside the door to Dr. Ward’s library. My head has been spinning since lunch, and the air in the mansion feels especially thin today. I pick at the last black nail on my hand. I haven’t been taking the best care of myself lately, only focusing on training. Dr. Ward said he would show me what kind of reaper I am today. The last time exactly what I am was revealed to me, my world flipped upside down. But I can’t seem to crush the unending desire to know where I belong, even if that truth is uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to do this,” Maggie whispers. She appears behind me and places her hand on my shoulder. But I don’t reply. I need the truth. All of it.
I twist the old ornate door knob and push.
Rays of soft white light reveal the slow fall of dust in the empty library. The smell of leather and paper grace my nose once more. I cross the threshold and scan the room for any life.
“Up here.” Dr. Ward’s voice echoes from the mezzanine above.
He stands at the top of the spiral staircase, removing gloves from his hands. He smiles as he looks down on me.
“So, what kind of reaper am I?” I ask flatly.
He releases a breathy laugh. “To come, I promise. I want to show you something first.”
“The last time you showed me something, you locked me in a prison filled with dead bodies.”
“Fair enough.” He offers up his hands in defeat. “Today I’m experimenting with a more positive reinforcement approach. A gift.”
“Ooooooo, we love presents.” Maggie floats beside me.
“Well, you’re welcome to join us Maggie,” Dr. Ward says.
She grabs my hand and pulls me up the stairs. Dr. Ward stands beside a long table in the center of the room with a blanket draped over it. Lumps in the cloth hint at something hidden beneath it. The smell of chemicals directs my attention to a small table of cleaning supplies and various tools. Nothing in this library looks clean enough to warrant such chemicals. I’m not certain he’s even dusted anything in months. Doubt swells in my mind once more. What is he hiding?
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“I know I’ve been hard on you, Autumn. I’ve tried to train you in a similar manner to which I was raised. Though even I had the company of friends then, other reapers like me who wanted to protect the living and the dead. We wanted to master our abilities and become immortal gods of death.” He chuckles, but it fades as a sadder thought seems to enter his mind. “Not all of those friends survived training. None of them are alive today. But you have done so much on your own. You adapt quickly. You are fierce and perceptive. You will make a formidable reaper. So, I think it’s time you had a cloak of your own.”
Dr. Ward pulls the blanket away to reveal a black cloak laid across the table. Leather straps and buckles connect its pieces together. I brush my fingers over the fabric and feel the hard bumps over the chest area. A rib cage is sewn under the fabric. Bones are woven into every piece of the cloak, but not exposed like the one Ward had me use.
“I kept the theatrics to a minimum and hid the bone where I could. I doubt it would be taken well these days if a young woman was seen covered in human remains.”
“Where did you get them?” I ask.
“In the early years of Mortis Custodes, young reapers were raised with a mundane squire. That squire would accompany them everywhere, even through training. They rarely survived long. Reapers would honor the dead by sewing the bones of their squires into their cloak. It was a rite of passage. However, we no longer subscribe to such barbaric practices. These are the bones from the prison. I gathered and cleaned them, then burned the remains. It was the site of your first reaping, so it feels fitting.”
I pinch the soft wool between my fingers and feel the tiny bones within it. Black leather straps connect it all together. Elegant patterns are woven into the wide hood. For a doctor, he makes quite the tailor. I can’t deny the dark satisfaction it brings to have a cloak of my own. Sure, the bones are a bit disturbing, but I conquered that jail. I faced those horrors. And I came out stronger.
“You’ve earned this, Autumn. I’m proud of you.” His words crash into my soul.
I struggle to think of any response. Hairs prickle up my arms as I grip the fabric. I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard anyone utter those words, yet I never knew how much I missed the sound of them. Immobilized by the weight of my emotions I only look up at him and smile.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says with a smirk. “After today, it’s yours to wear.” He pauses for a moment and leans against the wall, wrestling with his next thoughts. Then his eyes meet mine again. “I know you’re afraid you might actually be lunárri,” he finally says.
I look away. “I’m not afraid.”
“No? Well, it’s unlikely anyway, since your father wasn’t. But if you are, embrace it.” He steps away from the wall and opens a drawer on his desk to retrieve a small match box. He pulls out a single match and strikes it. The small flame bursts to life between his fingers. “Your echoes are like this match. Bright, warm, and they can save your life in a pinch.” Slowly, the flame burns down the match. “But they burn out quickly.” He then picks up a wax candle from one of the sconces on the wall and passes the flame to it. “A spirit burns much longer and brighter.” He paces around the room as he begins another one of his lectures.
“The emotions that compose a soul fuel your magic. When you reap an echo, you feel a reflection of those emotions. A few colors of the past. But imagine accessing all of them at once. That power can defeat monsters, and it has for centuries. Do you know why most paintings of the Grim Reaper appear in the late middle ages?”
“The Black Death?” I reply, folding my arms waiting for the point of this history lesson.
“Exactly. There is nothing more powerful than the human soul, save for the soul that still breathes. As we age that power fades. And the moment a soul leaves its body, that power drains until only madness remains. So it’s no wonder reapers are often associated with death throughout history. One always seemed to be around where death was plenty.”
“But what remains after a reaping?” I ask.
He looks back at me inquisitively.
“Does that soul cross over, or is it destroyed?” My question hangs in the air awkwardly.
Dr. Ward takes a deep breath. “Your respect for human life is what makes you so strong. We fight to save lives, at any cost.” He pats my shoulder and begins to walk down the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“No use talking about it anymore, reaper. Do you want the truth or not?” He replies merrily.
Maggie offers an encouraging grin and tilts her head, gesturing to follow him. I rush to follow Ward out the library and into the hallway. I mentally prepare myself for the woods once more, knowing this next test is likely somewhere deep within Thicket Grove. It’s gotten easier over the days to put on a brave face and endure the Grove, but the weight of its hollowness never goes away. Behind every tree, I can feel the eyes of the past watching me. I’ve never gained the courage to look back. But I’m a reaper, and today I will look back into that darkness.
Then, Dr. Ward turns left, not toward the back of the house. Not toward the woods. Instead, he walks toward the front.
My excitement shifts into anxiety and I pause. I look right. Two doors down is Granny’s room. At the end of the hall is the back door. I never thought I’d actually prefer the woods. It’s a dread I know, one locked behind the shadows of crooked branches. I look left, back to Dr. Ward getting further and further away. What horrors are this close to home?
The hall stretches out before me like a nightmare as I step forward. I follow Ward past door after door until we reach the large open foyer. Then, beside the stairs, at a door with a black ribbon tied around the door knob, he stops. The blood drains from my face when he looks back at me. His kind smile does nothing to disarm my fears. He then turns the door knob and pushes the door open.
“What are we doing?” I ask as my mind spins to think of any other reason than the only one that makes any sense. Please, not that.
Dr. Ward’s smile fades and he steps into the room.
Slowly, I peek my head inside. My stomach churns. Bile crawls up my throat. The walls stretch in and out and tinnitus screams in my skull. But before I know it, I’m inside the damned room, staring at the eyeless soul of Mr. Baker.
Dr. Ward shuts the door behind me and locks it.
“What is this?” I ask.
Panic swirls in my head. A thin translucent thread hangs beside the bed, only a few feet from Mr. Baker. His sad, tired face looks back at me with hope. A hope that dies when Ward steps beside me.
“He’s hurting!” Maggie shouts as she rushes toward him. She twirls around him, inspecting him. But the answer is easy for her to find. A circle of salt is poured around his feet like a small prison. Before I can stop her, Maggie attempts to grab the salt and brush it away. I wince as she screams in pain.
I run to her and fall to my knees. I cup my hands around hers and look back at Dr. Ward. His long shadow stretches far into the room. He steps forward and that darkness crawls over me like a blanket of spiders.
“Enough, reaper.” His words snap like a snake bite. He steps between Mr. Baker and I, looming high above me. He looks at Mr. Baker who glares back at him. His eyes, a brew of hate and fear.
I stand, rising only as high as Dr. Ward’s chest.
“Move.” I say as tears boil in my eyes. “I need to help him.”
Dr. Ward releases a long disappointed sigh. “No, Autumn. There is only one way to learn if you’re lunárri.” His voice scratches against my heart with every word. “Reap him.”
“MOVE!” I shove against him, but he holds like a wall.
“This is your reality!” He shouts back. “It isn’t easy, but necessary.”
“Granny was right. You’re a fucking monster!” Tears pour down my cheeks.
“These souls are your fuel to fight the real monsters out there. They’re far more powerful than your echoes. One soul could last months. I warned you of your attachments. Mundane souls are your food, nothing more. This town, all of Greenfield, is your pasture. All so you can fight the real monsters out there.”
“And yet you’ve told me nothing of the monster out there!” I shout back, pointing to the window facing the woods. “You even called it a she. You know what it is! But you won’t kill it. Why?”
His eyes narrow. “Spooks, you—”
“You don’t get to call me that!” I scream through tears and duck under his arm to reach Mr. Baker.
Ward steps to the side and shoves me with his full weight. Pain burns into my side as I slam into an old wooden dresser. I grab my hilt and ignite it. Static whips around the room. My eyes throb as the veins on my cheek pulse. Immediately, my vision bursts with light as silver threads cascade around the room, pouring from Mr. Baker and Dr. Ward.
I charge him. He ignites his blade and tenses his lips with disappointment. In one move he shatters my blade and slams his elbow into my face. My hilt drops to the hardwood floor. Hot blood bubbles from my nose and drips down my throat. He grabs my neck and pins me against the wall.
“Autumn!” Maggie shouts.
Ward points his blade toward her without even looking.
“Maggie, don’t,” I cough.
“You need to calm down, Autumn,” he commands. “Like it or not, this is who you are. This is who we are.”
I spit. My blood sprays across his face. “You’re a fucking devil.” I feel hot rage burn in my chest, like a storm about to release hellfire. I search for my reaping, but all I feel is my own hatred.
“Devils imply the existence of angels. There is no good or evil. Only perspective.” He presses hard against my throat, lifting me to my toes. “And yours is childish—” Then his face drops as if he’s spotted something. Maybe he sees the devil he’s become in the reflection of my black eyes. Whatever it is, it’s an opportunity.
I feel the hot rage burn through my body. The same heat I felt in the Windy House. I grab his arm and growl, “Burn!”
White gold lightning bursts from my hand. Dr. Ward screams and releases me. I drop to the floor holding my neck. I have to move quickly. I lunge toward Mr. Baker and wipe the salt away.
“Go!” I shout.
He nods and leaps toward the portal thread. He touches it and disappears in a burst of light. The thread then disintegrates into a cloud of glittering dust. The glitter floats into me, warming my skin, and Mr. Baker’s presence fills my heart with gratitude and hope.
Dr. Ward grits his teeth and glares at me like I’m some disobedient dog.
Hide. I command Maggie through our bond. She quickly vanishes and returns to the sasquatch in my backpack.
I charge toward Dr. Ward once more. He raises his blade to swing, but I suddenly change course and drop. I roll across the floor and pick up my hilt. Ward bolts for the door to cut me off, but I have other plans. I stretch my arm out and release a burst of kinetic energy from my palm. The wave of force shatters the window into tiny pieces.
“Autumn, stop!” Dr. Ward shouts.
But he’s too late. I dive out the window.
I land into the finely trimmed hedges outside. Their branches scratch against my skin as I roll to untangle myself from them. My blood drips onto the white snow as I crawl out. Desperately, I get to my feet and bolt across the lawn. Every breath of cold air stings like needles in my chest as I run as fast as my body will allow.
I’m done with the lies. I’m done fearing the dark. Only I can control my future. Only I can discover the truth. Only I can save these people. I run, run, and run. Until I cross the threshold of Thicket Grove.
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