Reaper: The Soul Seekers

Chapter One

And so the end is near.

This world you must depart my dear.

Bid farewell, say goodbye.

It is your time to die.

But don't fear the reaper.

Beware the soul seeker.

-Diary of the Dead

"You want me to die?"

My eyebrows shot up as I repeated the question for at the least the third time. I crossed my arms over my chest as I speculated the guy that had cornered me in the cemetery. I considered the possibility that he was insane. There were a few crazies around the city; running into people that weren't mentally stable was pretty normal. It was Hemlock after all. Craziness was to be expected. However, it wasn't every day that a stranger chased me into a cemetery and practically dropped to their knees begging to kill me.

The boy didn't appear insane. He seemed to be around my age- probably eighteen or so. I looked at him closely, taking in his black hair that fell to his shoulders and the angles of his face. He had a fierce, predatory vibe and his height certainly didn't help. He was so tall I almost had to lean my head all the way back just to see his face. He mimicked my earlier movement-crossing his arms over his broad chest, spreading his black shirt thin over his shoulders. He was dressed in black from head to toe, something that wasn't uncommon in this city, and a glimmering black ring curled around the middle finger of his right hand. At closer inspection of the ring I was struck with awe by the cloud-like swirls that danced within its onyx depths.

There was one feature about this boy that sent a pang of fear through me though. Panic nestled in my stomach as two orbs of dull white drilled into my bright blue eyes. The milky color, not quite a grey or silver, was haunting and I couldn't tear my gaze away as he stared blankly at me.

Necromancer. The word whispered through my mind followed by a shiver that ran through my entire body. The chilling eye color was the effect of dying and coming back to life. It was the result of dabbling in black magic. Some people take the Dark Arts a little too far and thus a necromancer is born. The soulless beings are only useful in tainting all that is pure in the world. They reek of death. It was nauseating.

"Of course I don't want you to die!" his sudden outburst startled me and I flinched, almost letting out a small scream. He smirked in amusement and went on, "I need you to die. How many times do I have to say it? There's no reason for me to want you to die girly. But if you don't die then I will have to deal with the wrath of the devil. You and I both know that the man has a raging temper."

I rolled my eyes and glared at the necromancer quietly. I had a contract with the devil. Nowhere in the contract did I agree to die. I wasn't necessarily friends with Satan or anything but the guy and I had a mutual understanding. I do his dirty work as one of his many reapers and as soon as my part of the contract is completed I will be set free to do as I please.

The necromancer continued when he realized I wasn't going to speak up, "Look, if you don't believe me then read this," he shoved a thick cream colored card into my hands. I was careful not to touch him. I didn't want this lunatic to ruin me with the death that physically shrouded him. I could see the foul fog of dark souls circling around the boy, I could smell it, I could almost taste it. Never had I wanted to drink an entire bottle of mouthwash more in my life than I did right now.

I looked down at the card in my hands, beautiful black calligraphy swirled across the page and I instantly recognized it as the devil's handwriting. It was the same handwriting that was on each scroll I was given every day before collecting souls.