The Next Death

Chapter 9

I drop to the mat, barely missing getting hit by Neal's staff. He spins it easily, preparing to bring it down on me. Now or never.

I throw up a hand. Neal's staff freezes midair. I can see him straining. I push harder. Neal's staff goes flying away, almost taking Neal with it.

Neal laughs, offering me a hand. "Not bad. See? You're getting better every day."

I take his hand, pushing off the mat as he pulls me up. "To be fair, I was half expecting to get a bloody nose or black eye."

"If you had gotten a black eye, it'd be gone by morning," Neal says over his shoulder, walking towards his staff.

"Really?"

"Yup. Reapers heal fast," he holds his hand out and his staff flies up into it.

"But wouldn't somebody take note of that?"

Neal shrugs, "I suppose that's part of the flow's work, making sure nobody notices."

"Precisely," Mr. Mors voice says. I look to find him walking through the training room's door. "That will be all for today's training session, Neal. You can head back to the shop."

Neal nods, tossing his staff to the rack where it, of course, lands perfectly. I couldn't wait until my control was that smooth.

Mr. Mors walks further into the room. "Come have a seat, Miss Kissinger," He says as he passes me.

I go and set my staff in the rack before heading to the table. I had been wondering why there was a table in the training room. I guess it made sense. There was going to more than just physical training.

Mr. Mors sits at the table waiting. I sit down in the chair across from him. As I do so, he slides a book across the table to me. Curious, I pick it up. It's a black leather journal. Undoing the leather string, I open it. On the cover page, an elegant script stares back at me. Si obvium habueris unde lux tenebris, servanda est statera.

I glance up at Mr. Mors. "What does it mean?"

"Read it," Mr. Mors says, inclining his head slightly.

"Where the light meets the dark, balance must be kept." I blink. Something told me that that's what the words meant. "How. . .?" I look up at Mr. Mors.

"Language barriers would be quite problematic in our line of work."

"Are you telling me that reapers can understand any language?" I look back down at the page.

"Some can. Your ability to understand and speak other languages will come with time and practice."

I brush my fingers across the words. "Latin. Pompeius trimalchio." I look up, slightly alarmed. Since when did I know how to say 'seems appropriate' in Latin?

"Control will also come with time. Don't worry."

I nod. "Right." I flip to the next page. "So, what does that saying mean?"

"It's the reaper motto, if you will. Before life and death were fully formed, only light and dark existed. Reapers came into being with the purpose of helping light and dark become and stay separate. We were re-purposed once life and death came about as light and dark were distinct entities at that point.

"Enough of that for now though. That's not what today's session is about. The history lesson is much later."

I quickly flip through the journal. Only a few pages have writing. The majority are empty. I look up. "Most of this is empty."

Mr. Mors nods. "To keep you from getting ahead of yourself. As the time for more comes, it will show you more. You can also make notes in it if you wish. If you have questions on something, you can write it down in the journal, or ask the journal, and it will answer you."