REAPERS - Book Two: The Hunger and the Sickness

6

Jinx kept his secret lab in the cellar of his brownstone on Battery Lane. Here he'd stashed the stolen tome and conducted his forbidden research, experimenting on frogs and toads he'd bought in some back alley from an old haggard who seemed to be wholly spun from rags. Presumably most of her customers bought the small animals for food but the rune man had other designs. Consulting Skelen's necromantic book, Jinx carved runes into the specimens' tiny legs and warty backs and soft, white membranous underbellies. He'd made good progress in good time. Got the undead toads and frogs to leap and stop on command—but he'd not perfected his runecraft yet. At times the creatures would reanimate on their own volition. Or refuse to stop when he uttered the phrase that should, if properly articulated, still the bodies of the risen amphibians.

An abrupt knock-knock at his front door. His concentration faltered. Jinx snapped from the trance. He often fell into that hypnotic state down there where it got quiet as a coffin and the book's teachings cast their spells. Who could it be at the threshold? The Reaper had shied away from social pursuits thanks to his newfound obsession. He never entertained guests of late, particularly at this hour. Many of his old friends and flames had simply vanished during his time out in the field with Team 3, swept away to serve by sword or worse. Most of his acquaintances were other students of thaumaturgy, a dangerous occupation. The 'Torchers,' so the Diluvian Inquisitors were called for reasons obvious especially those who burned at their pyres, had made many sweeps of the Nations' halls of study, rounding up those undesirables they felt might be dabbling too eagerly in the forbidden. Or at least that had served as the Diluvians' excuse to silence those with whom they did not see eye to eye. Jinx no longer mixed with women, either. He had become lost to the necronomicon at the expense of all else. More seductive than smite, that water of gods. Soon his teeth would unfasten and his flesh would rot. Jinx knew this, but still went on. The Truth was worth the price. Same old story, told again. He would fall. He knew but did not care. Perhaps the secrets to be found within would save him in the end. Let his body crumble. The soul lived on.

The knocks came again and with more force. Voices shouted but Jinx couldn't make out the words. He quickly slammed shut the book and shoved it into a trunk which he frantically locked with trembling hands. He crisply spoke the arcane word to stop the motion of the reanimated frogs. All but one ceased their twitching and hopping in their cage. The pounding at his door went on. Jinx spoke the sorcerous word again and finally the last frog stilled.

Jinx shoved the cage under the desk and covered it with a black cloth and went up the stairs and through the trapdoor into the main hall of his home. His legs ached as he climbed thanks to the hit they had taken in the arcane blast that had killed Rancent in Fort Nothing and consigned Jinx to a desk job at the Triad until he could, if ever, recover. This and other previous injuries—to include the groin wound he'd taken in Krakenbone—was a prime reason Jinx sought necromancy's secrets at all. Perhaps therein laid a way to forever avail himself of physical pain or injury. Could the sciences taught within help heal and animate the living as well as the dead? All the killing Jinx had seen in his career as a Reaper also played its part in his mad desire to understand death and perhaps find a way to somehow conquer it. He closed the trapdoor that led into the cellar and it blended perfectly with the woodwork of the floor. He slid a rug over the space.

Jinx gently crept to the front by way of shadow, a Reaper to the marrow, and peered through the window as the knocks and voices clamored outside. His heart skipped a beat when his eyes caught sight of the figures lingering in the rain's gloom. The Diluvian officers in long wet coats knocked again with authoritative fists. "We know you are in there, Reaper!" barked one. "Throw wide your door!"

He reminded himself that he was a Reaper and that was enough to reclaim his nerves. The mage stilled his shaking. He'd faced worse. The hard knocking came again.