Memories of the Reaper

Chapter Fifteen

Derek Grey wandered outside, trying to find the mess hall. By this point, the sun was almost nonexistent, but a few brilliant rays escaped over the edge of the horizon, and the colors of the sky were only magnified by the intensity of the land. The pinks, oranges, and reds of the dying sun against the Lazarus stones and the ancient-looking architecture generated such a genuine feeling of antiquity that Derek expected Greek philosophers in togas to brush past him. He wondered what it would have been like to have spoken with them, to have lived before the age of cellphones, technology, and TV screens. To have lived through the past, no doubt as Reynold did.

"Are you lost, fledgling?" Derek whirled to see the white reaper leaning against one of the columns. The mess hall It was an impressive building, but Derek did have his doubts as to why seven people would need such a large area to eat in.

"Yeah," Derek replied, not meeting his eyes. It was a half-truth, a minor fib and not an outright lie. He had, in fact, been lost, but there had been more to it than that. He was trying to decipher the meaning of the apparition's visits.

"It's easy to get lost here, but it's also nice to once in a while. This place is beautiful, naturally so. Even after living as long as I have, I still marvel at it." He threw his hand toward the distant horizon in a grand gesture and gazed out at the rolling hills and the archaic buildings. "There's nothing else that captures beauty like this place. Trust me, I've been around long enough to know."

"I—" Derek began.

"If you two boys are done sight-seeing, we'd like to begin dinner," a voice interrupted from behind them.

Reynold chuckled and turned around, unsurprised yet impressed. "Your stealth is remarkable, Kendra."

Kendra basked in the reaper's compliment like a cat in a ray of sunlight, but Derek made the mistake of smiling about it. Her eyes narrowed at him. "Fledgling, start walking or we'll eat without you. Be satisfied that we've waited for you this long," she spat, spinning on her heel and stalking inside.

After pausing to make sure she was out of earshot, Derek asked Reynold in a soft murmur, "Does she act like that around everyone?"

Reynold pondered the question as he slumped against the column like a dead Joe Cool. "Mostly just to you, but... there were others in the past." He turned and walked towards the door.

"Who else?" Derek asked, following Reynold up the steps. "Why me?"

"It's not my place to answer those questions, Derek. And, if I were you, I would let her bring it up," Reynold told him. The reaper threw open the door and walked inside. Like a shadow, Derek followed before the door could close.

The mess hall looked even bigger inside than out.

Unlike everything else within the reaper's compound, From its surface, he could see roasted meat, vegetables, bread, and even wine. His stomach snarled like a cornered bear. Following his instinct, Derek had taken a step towards the table before Reynold grabbed his arm and pulled him back against the door.

"Not yet," Reynold told him in a whisper.

"But—"

"Not. Yet." Reynold told him again, tightening his grip. "Look at the others."

Derek glanced at the reapers and realized they were all standing against the wall with their cowls pulled up over their heads. They were so quiet that a pin drop would have been deafening—his easy breathing sounded like a roar. He found their seriousness eerie. They all looked like mannequins detailing the latest fashion trend for the dead.

Regardless of their disputes, the six cloaked reapers were grim.

"There are rules for our dinners, Derek. One, no abilities can be used. Two, weapons are allowed and recommended. Three, if somebody sustains a mortal blow, then the game is over. Four, dinner is first come, first serve, but none of it can leave the room," Reynold uttered from the darkness of his cowl.