Sinister

Chapter Eight

Sinister

Chapter Eight

Leighton dropped the stone as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Marks people for death?" she repeated, hysteria rising. "Am I marked now?" Leighton looked down at her shaking fingers, fear clenching her stomach as she suddenly realised Tate was close enough to take the rest of her soul at a moment's notice.

"No," Tate answered, quelling most of the worry. "The stone has to be placed in someone's place of dwelling or on them in some way. Each stone is different, and has to be placed upon the person with purpose. Touching it second hand does not change the ownership."

Leighton's head whirled. "Did you give this to Rudd? I found another one in his shop too. Officer McGuinty said that Jack Norton's room was overflowing with them, what does that mean?"

"Leighton," Tate called her name soothingly, "calm down."

She took a deep breath and met his eyes. "Sorry."

"I didn't give those stones to Jack Norton or Rudd," Tate replied after a moment. "I don't have any of those stones in my possession, I'm simply attracted to their location."

"If you don't put them there, than who does?"

Tate was evasive. "Someone else."

"Who?"

"My partner," Tate divulged, "I apply that term loosely."

Leighton frowned. "Partner? You work with another person who collects souls?"

Tate shook his head, "Killian doesn't have that ability. He marks the people who are supposed to die with those stones and I come and collect their souls. Beings like us always come in pairs."

"Like us?" Leighton echoed, "there's more of you?"

Tate shrugged. "Yes. Me and Killian however, are the originals."

"Original what?" Leighton asked, mind already whirling. She had forgotten what it was like to be in Tate's presence, to feel like she was being sucked into a black hole and only wanting to fall faster.

"Reaper," Tate whispered.

Leighton stared at him. "You're a reaper?"

Tate shook his head. "That isn't how it works," he said, "Your myths have it confused. Reaper is a term for a pair of people, one marker and one collector."

"And you and your partner are the first?"

"We've been doing this so long I can't remember when I started," Tate relented, sorrow weaving its way into the threads of his voice. He removed his eyes from her as his gaze became distant.

Leighton got up and fetched herself a glass of water. Tate remained motionless on the couch. Leighton looked through the cupboards for a glass, finding four of the five completely empty. The fifth had a few plates and cups, Leighton took one and filled it with tap water, an idea occurring to her. When Leighton returned to the living room she was determined to understand, even if she lost her own mind in the process.

"Do you eat anything?" Leighton asked.

"Not really," Tate answered, tone flat.

Leighton frowned, recalling him taking food home from Dante's Tavern and ordering when they met up to talk the first time around. "But you―"

"Buy food?" Tate guessed. "Yeah, I usually just hand it off to one of my neighbours." Leighton wouldn't let herself dwell on his diet, not when there was so much more to understand.