REAPERS - Book Two: The Hunger and the Sickness

41

How fine a Reaper Skinner would have been if he hadn't have let his addictions ruin things. He'd managed in this one night to break into the hidden den of a secret organization of Camshire's most elite and dangerous, scaling walls and sneaking into windows and stalking on quiet feet. He had taken one of their costumes as a disguise and infiltrated their party and now he mingled with the other anonymous guests like a master spy. But his body was entering a new stage in smite's cycle. He was no longer a god. Just a man. Fearful. Masked. His muscles trembled, his vision blurred. Skinner hadn't planned on the night's strange turn. He should have brought more smite with him. He needed the boost.

The intruder tried to focus his attentions. Analyze and observe. There were perhaps a dozen attendees in total. Skinner noticed one of them had a limp and a cane and tiny scars on his neck. It was Church behind that mask, he guessed. Warden Hotch himself was nowhere to be seen—unless he'd smartly changed costume at some point to further obfuscate his identity.

In light of the Sinners' Club's reputation, Skinner had expected to see the most heinous acts transpiring in these rooms and halls but so far all that had occurred here had been idle chatter. Talk of educated people on escalating war and high taxes and Diluvian rule and rising crime. Perhaps the Sinners' Club was ironically so-named and it was truly only a game of fantasy for bored aristocrats. A way to play-act as monsters. Or whatever they had gathered for was a singular event that had not yet come to fruition. The night was relatively young and had the color of dark tidings.

A bell rang and all talk ceased. A figure walked through the parting throng. She was a bare-breasted woman in bladed costume. Her mirrored mask was half anguish and half glee (and Skinner could not decide which was more alluring or more hideous a visage). People began to follow the enigmatic siren in silence and Skinner casually joined in the procession. They moved in the wake of the spike-bodied temptress and her etched bell and came to a stairwell that plunged into the manor house's basement level. The passage was sheathed in arcane runes and Skinner's heart sank. What if they were sorcerous wards and these people had keys that allowed them to pass beneath them unharmed? Might the glyphs strike Skinner dead as he walked by? But there was no choice other than to go on.

He followed the others and clenched his muscles and braced himself to receive some fatal shock or burst into flame but no harm came to him. Perhaps the markings were simply meant to deter intruders but had no true power. The Diluvians and the superstitious mobs ensured no sorcery was practiced in the Nation and even these thrilldrunk deviants likely had enough sense to avoid the attentions of those unmerciful martinets and lynchers.

Skinner went with the others into a large subterranean room. At its center was a long table set for a formal dinner. The guests each found a chair and stood behind it. At one head of the table sat a woman in a mask made to resemble some great jungle cat. At the other stood Warden Hotch, still in his goblin mask.

"Fellow Sinners, welcome," Hotch said, raising a glass of red. "Bathaa similicus."

"Bathaa similicus," said the others. Skinner joined in late with a catch-up mumble but the slip went unnoticed. All the guests put their glasses to their lips as did the repeater. Now Skinner could see why all their masks left the lower half of their faces uncovered. They were here to drink. And eat. The nearby kitchen's smell was sublime. Skinner hadn't realized how hungry he had gone all these years until that sweet and intoxicating scent hit his nostrils. He suddenly felt much better. The smite-crash waned as the servants laid unidentifiable appetizers out on the table and the masked guests seated themselves.

"No point in wasting sand," Hotch said. "Let me present you with a quick novelty before we delve into the main course for the evening, if you'll indulge me." He rang a small bell that sat on the table before him. Servants came forward from the kitchen with hooded dishes in their hands. With a flourish they pulled the veils away to reveal that each of them held a small cage holding a colorful and exotic bird.