Reapers - Master of Souls (Reapers Chronicles Book III)

27 - Grief (2 of 2)

What use is it to you--

What's on my mind

If it ain't coming out

We're not going anywhere

So why can't I just tell you that I care ?

27 - Grief

The draught to Sinclair Mansion was therapeutic. For a little while, I didn't think of anything. It was just me, the wind on my face, the familiar trail. It felt like... coming home.

Amyr stood near the edge of the hole, staring up at the willow tree. It was in full blossom, red all over, its thin graceful branches spread down as if weeping. In all its ancient magnificence, I could only see what-might-have-beens.

If Rosario and Dad were alive. If I wasn't dying. If the world wasn't ending. If Vincent loved me.

Tons of ifs. The possibilities were endless.

"Where've you been, Noob?" Amyr smiled, waving a hand in front of my face.

I blinked twice. "The motel."

Shaking his head, he looked me in the eyes, laughing. "I mean, where have you been? Looked like you left earth for a second there."

I brushed past him, sneering. "Where else would I go?"

For once in a long time, the permanent grin on his face disappeared. "Are you gunna be okay?"

"Yeah." The word sounded forced, but I successfully managed a smile. "Where's Vincent?"

"In the Archives." He seemed a little less enthusiastic than normal. "I guess I'll leave you guys to it, then."

I shrugged.

Again, he took a good look at the willow tree, his brown eyes wistful. For a few seconds, he stood there, watching something that was invisible to me. He was smiling to himself as he left.

"Where have you been?" I murmured.

In made my heart sink to see the house in utter disrepair. After all, I had considered it my home.

Old memories ran to and fro the hallways, disappearing before I could even start to chase them. The silence was agonizing. And as I found the stone door of the Archives open, I was almost scared to go in.

With barely a sound, I entered.

Before I could take another step, something knocked my feet from under me. I hit the floor. When I tried to get up, I saw three pointed blades aimed at my face. It was Vincent's trident.

"Oh, it's just you," Vincent breathed out, backing away, the trident faltering into flames that died out in an instant. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"You almost killed me!"

"Almost," he chided.

When I didn't honor that snide answer with a reply, he reached out and offered his hand. I took it and got up. As I was patting the dirt off my clothes, he kept his hand in the same position, palm open.

"What?" I blurted out.

For the third time, he offered his hand. As if having a mind of its own, my hand moved to his, a bit hesitant.

"The details," he muttered.

"O-of course."

My face just developed a fever. All of me wanted to fly out of the room. Of all the times to get fatally embarrassed, it had to be on the dawn of the apocalypse.