REAPERS - Book Two: The Hunger and the Sickness

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A plunge into the murky unknown. The animal eyes and sensory organs Bramble had been fitted with gave him the perception to navigate these umbral tunnels but Dimia could see not a thing. It was absolute darkness and all she could do was hear and feel and smell and none of those things were blessings in this despicable place. The unholy clamor of the city's wastewater flushing the echoing pipes, impossibly loud. The stench of shit and piss and who knew what else was poured down into these heinous corridors by the masses above. The sensation of the golem's bristly hides and beaks and furs and bones pinned against her body, working and jostling as he ran. How could she have ever cared for such an abomination? Dimia remembered the old incarnation of her captor through her fear and pain. Bramble had once been kind. A protector. Now he was changed, by time and sorcery and fire and hate. Dimia was overcome by the assault on her senses and vomited onto Bramble's nightmarish back. Deeper into the hell they went but the girl was spared more suffering for her mind went black as it had when she witnessed the zenith of horror of Marrow. And it was of that night she dreamt again.

— • —

Mulia struggled with newly hatched dragons on her coach-ride to Strotham Yard. Now she had the guilt of failing to protect Dimia to add to her long list of regrets. Perhaps the girl had just run off on her own and was already cavorting with anarchs and smite-hounds. Or babbling in some ditch about pigs and the dead. But what might Mulia have done? Strapped the girl to her bed? She could have sworn she had checked the locks on the windows. But could she be sure? So much was on her mind of late.

Upon her arrival at the investigative headquarters Mulia first met with old friends of Halo's, for he had briefly served at Strotham Yard prior to joining the Reapers. She reported Dimia's disappearance to them, told of the open window and empty bed and the girl's talk of the dead boy that Mulia had regrettably taken at the time as the simple nightmares of a child who had already seen far more than any mortal mind should behold.

"There's been a spate of child abductions throughout Camshire," said Croose, an inspector whom Mulia did not know, "and the suspect is still on the loose. We're doing everything we can to hunt him down. If you happen to remember anything, no matter how small the detail—"

"Of course," said Mulia. When they were done Croose and the others escorted her to the Yard's great lobby where hung tapestries depicting gryphons protecting babes from demonic shadowfolk. Officials and victims and the accused-in-chains shuffled past. It seemed Croose and his fellows had their hands full with Camshire's endless despicables. They said farewell and Mulia went on her way.

— • —

Camp Nothing's tents were roused like a colony of bats on the outskirts of Catatonia. Upon hearing the full report on the bandits and Thirteen's death, Commander Barda ordered that Nail send two men to burn the corpse and retrieve its Reaper dagger. Nail commissioned Blacwin and Addison for the job. Blacwin for being the soldier on whose watch Thirteen had died, and Addison for spite.

"And don't come back up," Nail warned, "until the two of you have settled whatever differences you have."

— • —

Upon arriving home Mulia found a package waiting in her study. There on the desk was a document rolled in a ring, standing on its end. She sat down and picked up the mysterious scroll. Slipped it from the band and unrolled it and lit a candle to read it by. The writ was a fresh copy of Donric's death certificate. Immediately she knew this was from Nayte. The ring was his proposal and the document was the one thing that stood in the way of her acceptance. She saw flashes of a new life before her. Nayte would be good to her daughters. She had to put them first, didn't she? Above herself and, yes, Donric, too? Nayte's family had a beautiful estate outside Camshire in a part of the country still relatively untouched by war or unrest. Mulia and her girls could stay there, away from the chaos and filth. They could sit on its rambling tree-studded lawn and read and entertain friends and find new meaning in life. It would be a better tomorrow than to go on alone. And in these deadly times people had to move on quickly. But could she truly abandon Donric like this? When he possibly needed her to remain true and strong the most? It pained her to think of him in some filthy pit as she married herself to another man. Mulia gathered herself and inked her quill. Tears filling her eyes, she put it to the paper. But she did not sign it and thus declare her true love dead. Mulia instead wrote a single word across the entire sheet in large letters and that word was 'NEVER.'