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Suburban Streets

Heat pulsated in my pocket as I shuffled my way through the bustling crowd. The Runed were not known for their wide streets unlike the Miaths - yet another difference to split the races. Watchful gazes followed my steps from crooked windows. I wouldn't say I was well known but I was certainly infamous around there parts of Crynantia. The black widow. A fitting name for my poisonous personality and knack for killing whoever the king wanted dead.

A hybrid creature of mayhem couldn't have a better job.

I was proclaimed a reaper at birth but my refusal to take souls and ferry them to the underworld for judgement quickly caused confusion. Society told me I was a confused reaper where as I disagreed. No amount of quiet persuasion that they drip fed me worked.

I was no reaper.

I was a monster. A very useful monster.

My heels tapped on the ground as I navigated my way to the market stalls. The dusty sand coloured multi story buildings opened out into a circular area full of vibrant greens. Hundreds of stalls lined the outside walls with occasional breaks for the alleyways that lead into the main area.

A burly man stood with a crowd of patient customers waiting for a taste of his renowned soup. His friendly smile and five o'clock stubble perfectly showed what he was like as a person. A plush teddy bear under a layer of muscle protection.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The infernal ticking was back which meant so was Grim. My lithe body spun around easily as I began search for the tell tale signs of a reaper. No black smoke. No wavering light. No panic. Grim was better than any other reaper at removing his traces.

I furrowed my brows in concentration. Once more I was wandering through the crowd, thoughts of my lunch forgotten and replaced with the thrill of racing Grim to the death. Tick. Tick. Tick. The burning in my pocket grew and I was increasingly aware of each second that held me back. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. The heat started whispering nonsensical gibberish as I tried to focus in on one single person in a crowd of thousands. To say it was difficult would be a blatant lie. It was practically impossible for a non-reaper to achieve such a skill.

A loud banging filled my head and I dropped to the ground. I had lost. Again. Looking I saw him, standing behind a woman observing a paper cut on her thumb. The flushed face of an obvious business lady lightened in colour as her soul leaked out from her body. The lady herself could have been considered a pretty woman with her long brown ponytail pushed high up on her head in such a way that it defined her jaw and showed off her hazel eyes. Those exact hazel eyes which were clouding over.

I sighed and stood up. The pedestrians surrounding me quickly backed away when I stood. Accept defeat and move on. I had a job to do anyway.

Pulling out the watch from my pocket I checked the time.

Almost the killing hour, no wonder it was burning up in my pocket around Grim.