The Next Death

Chapter 8

When I walk through the doors of the shop, surprisingly, Agatha isn't at the counter. Neal is. I wouldn't normally care, I'd be relieved rather, not having to deal with Agatha right away, but Neal is keeping his face carefully neutral. He doesn't smile or wave. He just watches me walk down the center aisle to the front desk. I stop in front of him. "No hello? Should I be worried?" I try for a joking tone, but the feeling that something's wrong taints my voice.

Neal simply holds out a hand. "I'll put your backpack in the back. Mr. Mors instructed me to send you to his office once you got in. I don't know what you did, but he doesn't seem very happy."

Handing my bag off to Neal, I turn towards Mr. Mors's office. Stopping in front of the door, I lift a hand. Was I supposed to knock? Or was I just supposed to walk in?

"Come in," Mr. Mors's voice calls before I have the chance to do either.

I didn't know him all that well, but that didn't sound like a happy voice. Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle and enter the office.

"Close the door behind you," Mr. Mors instructs, not even glancing up from the book in front of him. He doesn't glance up when the door clicks shut either. He simply issues another command. "Take a seat."

I sit in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Whatever is in the book has his full attention. I let my eyes wander the room. All sorts of odds and ends are in the room, from small objects lining the bookshelves, to objects big enough to be deemed worthy of their own case, to large objects, hanging on the walls. Regardless of size, they all have one thing in common: they look old. Some things I recognize: old coins that were once currency; vases from ancient civilizations; bones of origins that were most likely not human; weapons of various shapes and sizes with worn handles from use; books with titles in languages I couldn't read. Mr. Mors' office was covered in artifacts from all ages all over the world. I would dare to say there were historians out there that would weep for joy at seeing his collection.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Mr. Mors begins, drawing my attention back to him as he closes the book, "But from my understanding, your training session with Neal yesterday wasn't. . ." he drums his fingers on his desk for a second in thought, "Successful."

"Well, I mean, I kinda got one of my powers to work."

Mr. Mors sighs, "Unsuccessful in that you were told not to try using your powers until you had received more training."

There's no way they could know I had been trying to get my telekinesis to work. "Yeah."

"Did you not understand that instruction?"

"I understood it."

"Then why didn't you do as you were told?"

My mind blanks. What? "I thought Agatha wasn't going to be babysitting me anymore!" I feel rather indignant. I was keeping up my end of the bargain as I was no longer unable to train.

"She's not," Mr. Mors says calmly, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh." Idiot. Of course, this was just a test. Seeing how well I could follow directions. "I suppose now you know I didn't listen."

"No, I already knew. There was nothing you could have said to convince me that you did listen."

I blink, brows furrowing. "How could you possibly know? Agatha's not watching me to report back to you."

Mr. Mors steeps his fingers together. "The first day you were here, the flow was mentioned. Do you remember that?"

I nod. Agatha had apparently sensed a shift in the flow, sending everyone into high alert. No one had bothered elaborating on the flow then.

"A reaper's powers don't come from the flow, but they are connected to it." He taps his index fingers together studying me. "Imagine the flow as a. . . lake," he tosses a hand to the side. I nod, unsure of where this is going. "Anytime power is used, it's like the user is tossing a stone into that lake. It creates ripples, but just once. You don't know how to use your powers, so you can't toss a stone into the lake. What you did was skip the stone across the surface."

He doesn't continue on. He just continues to study me, as if gauging my comprehension. I can see the visualization, but I'm not sure what it means. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Why do you think I had Agatha keeping an eye on you before you began training?"

"To make sure my powers didn't manifest prematurely?"

Mr. Mors sighs, closing his eyes. "Reapers aren't the only things that can sense the flow." He reopens his eyes.

"Are you saying that using our power is like sending out a beacon?"

"A ripple from a tossed stone."

"And I skipped a stone."

"Exactly."

"Isn't that what I'm doing here when I'm training?"

"Yes, but Neal and Agatha are more than capable of defending themselves. I dare say your friends and family aren't."

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "What kinds of things can sense the flow?"

"Nothing you're anywhere close to being able to fight off."

Folding my hands in my lap, I look down at them. "Especially being human still."

"Reapers aren't indestructible either, Miss Kissinger," Mr. Mors' voice is soft. My head snaps up. "We're just much more durable." Leaning forward, he reopens the book he had been looking at when I first walked in, "That will be all. Agatha is on a mission today, so you won't have any training. You'll just be manning that shop with Neal."