Reaper Society

Chapter 2: Monsters and Mayhem

For the first time in months, I don't have my typical hellish nightmare. There are no flames coming to lick the flesh from my bones. No eternal screams from places I can't see. No soulless black eyes that warn me of impending evil and promises of pain. There's only inky darkness and peace...until I wake up.

I first become aware that I'm no longer in my bed as my consciousness solidifies in me and the softness of the mattress and blankets around me press into my aching muscles. The second thing is that: my whole being is vibrating with pain. Prickles in every fiber of my muscles zing to life as I shift, my eyelids fluttering enough that bright, white light stabs into my retinas for the briefest second before I can shut them. A rough, choking sound rasps up my chest and burbles out of my mouth. A string of half-muttered-half-groaned curses follow close behind and I hear a surprised laugh from somewhere to my right.

"Easy there, Nia." A vaguely familiar smoky voice I can't immediately place hums from the same direction. Flashes of memory dance through my head. Me getting out of work late, stupidly going across town to deposit my check, and that creepy-ass dog attacking me-

"Fuck-a-duck-" I swear on a growl as the most pressing ache emanates from my forehead. Right where the woman had pressed her hand before I...blacked out? Died? My eyes snap back open and I feel them move to the place I'd heard the woman's voice.

The woman is sitting on a chair beside me, her icy blue eyes watching me as an amused smirk coats her mouth. The intricate tattoos decorating her exposed skin from the neck down, contrasting with her pale skin. That war paint still on her face, white-blonde hair pulled tight against her skull in those warrior-princess braids. Hell, she's even wearing the same outfit, chains and leather and daggers. Am I hallucinating?

"You know, I never understood that particular profanity." The woman says lightly, the roughness of her raspy voice grating slightly on my sensitive eardrums. "I am relieved to see you made it through the initial transformation with your soul intact." I frown at her words, not at all liking the 'soul intact' part. Of course, my 'soul' should be 'intact'! Why wouldn't it be?

"Where am I?" I croak out instead of blurting my thoughts. It takes a large effort to get my arms to move, even more, to make my lead-heavy hand to touch my forehead where the pain is greatest. It's like I'm feeling my face with boxing gloves on, the nerves in my face feel my hand on my skin, but my hand doesn't seem to register it immediately. Like my limb is asleep or the nerves are wired wrong or something. I catch sight of my hand as it moves to drop back to my side, the skin is thick and pocked - and three shades lighter than the roasted cashew color I recall it last being. A fresh string of swear words float past my mouth as I make my other hand move to mirror the messed-up one. The warped skin continues all the way up my arm to three inches past my elbows - like some kind of messed-up gloves.

"Ah, yes. Your hands and forearms were badly damaged after your...rather unique fight with the vṛkaḥ." The woman tells me, drawing my attention back to her - my throat tight with emotion and stomach feeling like there's a war inside it. "The medical team did manage to save your limbs and all fingers, but the damage was extensive. Even without advanced capabilities, you will have to endure some rigorous therapy before you can regain more motion in your fingers." Her clinical and cold tone makes me want to reach out and slap her, but I don't. This isn't her fault. She wasn't there till after I messed my arms up. And even then, I'd only resorted to dipping them into the creature's toxic body in an attempt to save myself - and end the thing's life. How was I supposed to know I'd live to regret my split-second decision.

I drop my hands back to my sides, holding back another chain of swear words as a fresh zing of pain lances through the limbs and down my spine.

"Holy crap...I'm alive, at least." I huff under my breath, slowly starting to get used to the weird sound of my voice. It's not different - not tonally at least - just like I screamed for hours on end - at the point where it's used up and almost gone from the over-use.