Author Note: In this chapter, two characters discuss sensitive topics that some readers may find disturbing.

  ***

  Dahlia

  On my way home from my meeting with Councilwoman Hastings, the streets were full of life and color. It was still early in the evening with hours to go before the city quieted, which was why I was surprised to see the Reaper waiting for me in the shadows of my front porch, leaning against the front door where anyone could have spotted him as they passed by.

  A chill ran down my spine, and I stopped a few paces from the bottom of my steps.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, a hint of a warning in my voice, “What if someone sees you here?”

  I tried to ignore the part of me that was pleased to see him here. This was not the time or place to speak to the Reaper, especially with all the Imms on the streets looking for him.

  “We need to talk,” the Reaper gestured into my house.

  “Did you expect me to invite you inside?” I snorted in disbelief.

  The Reaper stood up and walked to the top of the stairs to look down at me, “No. You’re far too stubborn. I expected you to argue and put up a fight—one I’ll win, by the way.”

  He gestured to the front door behind him, “So, for the sake of saving time, just let me in, Dahlia.”

  “If anyone sees you here—” I started.

  He cut in with a chuckle, “All the more reason to let me in quickly, right?”

  Fuck. He was right.

  With a grumble of frustration, I made my way to the top of my stairs and fumbled with my keys until I finally unlocked the front door. As I walked inside, I asked, “What do you want, Reaper? Here to finally tell me who the fuck you are? Want to show me what’s under that mask? Maybe you’ll explain why you’re fighting the Imms here of all places? What world are you from, anyway?”

  “Why are you so confrontational all of a sudden?” He sighed as if exasperated. “Sounds like you had a bad day.”

  “Something like that,” I muttered as I thought back to my conversation with Hastings and felt a shiver of apprehension as I was reminded of her warning.

  I heard the Reaper close the door behind us and murmur darkly as I started lighting lamps throughout my entryway, “You want me to reveal myself to you—to gain some power over me, right? Then, you can expose me for Portia when the time is right.”

  “I’m not exactly playing by Portia’s rules anymore,” I reminded him with a dramatic eyeroll.

  And I wasn’t. Not only that, but I still couldn’t figure out why I’d thrown caution to the wind for this Reaper. By supporting him, I could, very well, have charted a course to my own doom.

  “What do you want?” I asked again, voice firm this time.

  I crossed my arms and waited until he finally said, “I want to tell you…I want you to know what happens to the children who are taken by the Imms—to warn you. Maybe once you know, you’ll understand—get involved in my mission here. With you by my side, we could accomplish so much more in Firen. I can’t be here at all times, but you…”

  He let the thought trail off, and I spun around to face him. This was something I’d always wanted to know—ever since Erich was taken when we were children. But now, faced with finally learning the truth, I wasn’t certain I could take knowing what happened to my childhood friend. If the Imms were involved, I had no doubt his fate was terrible.

  “Why?” I asked—narrowing my eyes suspiciously, “Why tell me now?”

  “You can help, Dahlia. I need you to know how important it is to stop the Imms,” he explained as he seemed to scrutinize my expression closely, “I understand your reservations about killing—”

  “Reservations?” I scoffed, “I have no problem with you killing those Imms—I just don’t want to do it myself.”

  He seemed taken aback, “I thought you disagreed.”

  “No,” I gestured for him to continue, “Now tell me what happens to the children.”

  The Reaper swallowed hard and seemed to reconsider his offer to tell me about the children, but finally, he started with, “The Imms want the Sight—that’s why they take the children.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting the Reaper to reveal to me, but it hadn’t been that. In all my imaginings, I couldn’t have dreamt up this explanation for the disappearances.

  I felt my eyebrows rise—what did the Reaper know about the Sight?

  “But those children don’t have the Sight,” I pointed out as I studied the barely visible brown eyes beyond the Reaper’s mask—eyes that were so normal and yet so haunted, noticeable even behind the mask.

  The Reaper lowered his voice, “But their Halfling children might.”

  I stilled.

  The Imms wanted Halfling children—Halfling children from the Red? Did only Halfling children develop the Sight?

  “That doesn’t make sen—”

  “They’ve been doing this for decades now. They use the children for breeding—once they are old enough,” he continued, “Most die eventually—even the boys. Their children are isolated and studied. The ones with even a little of the Sight are then sent for breeding again.”

  I was horrified.

  My voice shook, “How do you know this? Do you know how insane that sounds? Breeding—like we’re animals?”

  “I’m one of their Halflings,” the Reaper explained quietly, “I’ve seen what happens to humans—even Halflings—in my world. Rape. Murder. Constant abuse. The only way to stop the horror is to destroy them or prevent them from stealing away children in the night. They take humans from the other worlds too—to serve as their slaves. I can’t protect all the worlds, but I can try to protect this one before he gets his hands on what he really wants—what he wants more than anything, I think.”

  “He?” I asked, wondering who was behind all this.

  The Reaper hesitated, turning away to hide the sudden fury in his eyes. But despite this hesitation, he took a deep breath to continue.

  “He’s called the High Lord—he’s the leader of these…intruders,” the Reaper explained in a quiet—almost pained—voice, “The rest of them follow him without question.”

  He swallowed hard, barely audible to my ears, and added, “He’s very persuasive.”

  It sounded like he knew that from experience.

  “You said he wants something more than anything. What is it? What is he after?” I slowly asked as I considered his words.

  The Reaper stared at me for a long moment until I finally realized what he had meant. “Fuck—he wants a Halfling with the Sight that badly?”

  “The Sight is powerful, Dahlia—imagine an Imm with that kind of power.” The Reaper clenched his fists and looked down at the floor, “Their breeding program has failed so far. Most Halflings don’t have the Sight at all. Many—probably half or more—of Halfling women are sterile. They simply never start bleeding. Halfling men aren’t quite so useful for their purposes because Imm women rarely become pregnant—maybe once every hundred years or so. They need a Halfling woman with the Sight—one who isn’t sterile. So far, they’ve had little luck—and even less luck keeping the Halflings alive.”

  They needed someone like me, then.

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  I’d heard enough. My imagination was running wild now as I thought of the abuse these children had suffered through at Imm hands. I rushed to my kitchen—barely making it to the sink in time to vomit. Erich had been taking for that? How old was he when they started forcing him to breed—raping him? Was he even alive? Could a human survive that kind of abuse for so long?

  This was worse than I’d ever let myself imagine.

  I felt tears in my eyes as I rinsed my mouth, but then I found myself staring at the bottom of the sink as I fought the urge to hit something. I jumped when I felt a hand begin to rub comforting circles on my upper back, “Calm, Dahlia.”

  I whirled around to face him, forcing his hand away, “Calm? You’re telling me the Imms take our children for breeding like goddamned animals, and you think I can be calm? What do you think will happen if they get their hands on me? This High Lord wants me—he just doesn’t know I already exist!”

  My tears finally fell from the corners of my eyes, and it took conscious effort to avoid looking away from the Reaper to hide my vulnerability.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you—I just needed you to know what they’re doing,” the Reaper handed me a towel, which I used to wipe my face dry.

  “Where are they?” I snarled.

  He shook his head, “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Of course. No one ever wants to tell me anything!” I snapped as I thought of the things Carmen was probably keeping from me—what Simon was hiding. Hell, even my father hid things from me for years.

  I continued, voice still harsh, “And these assholes are acting independently? How the fuck has no one done something about them? Does the King—”

  “These are Imm rogues—not the King’s people,” The Reaper cleared his throat and stepped back—his eyes shifting away from me uncomfortably.

  He hadn’t expected me to lose my temper—to lose my mind—at his revelation.

  “And yet, the King does nothing,” I sneered at the thought.

  The Reaper seemed almost excited that I'd come to this conclusion on my own.

  “Exactly—he’s complicit in the kidnapping. Even if he doesn’t understand everything these rogues are up to, he lets them operate outside his control.” The Reaper slammed a hand on the table—making me jump at the sound. “The King does nothing. The Calos do nothing. Even the Soldiers meant to protect the worlds do nothing.”

  I thought of Hawthorne—a soldier who was as complicit as the rest. But to do anything about these rogues, the Reaper needed Imm support. He was fighting a losing battle, otherwise. Without the King’s support, any efforts to stop these Imms from stealing children would be in vain.

  And just like that, I felt the high of my sudden resolve come crashing down.

  This was an impossible battle.

  “You can’t beat them,” I whispered, “I know you are trying to help, but the Imms are too powerful. It’s pointless.”

  The Reaper stepped forward, voice so full of confidence, “For now, perhaps you’re right, but someday, I hope to change that."

  His voice softened, "But is it really so pointless to help as many children as we can in the meantime?”

  He raised a gloved hand to my face, but hesitated. When he started to pull his hand away, I reached up to take his hand in my own, pausing his movement. With careful fingers, I slowly slipped the leather glove from his hand, brushing my fingers against his bare flesh. The feel of his skin against mine was so comforting—like the feeling of slipping into bed after a long day. I sensed his confusion—confusion that matched my own. This connection between us was unmistakable.

  It was impossible to ignore.

  With a shaky breath, I raised his hand to my cheek and pressed it against my skin. Suddenly bolstered by my permission, the Reaper stroked his fingers along my face and murmured absently, “What will you do about the Predictors, Dahlia? What’s your goal?”

  “I’ll protect Carmen,” I answered automatically, “That will always be my priority.”

  He paused—forcing his fingertips to stop their exploring.

  “And the others? Their other victims?” He asked, his voice low and cautious.

  “I—I don’t know,” I admitted, feeling overwhelmed now, “I can’t save everyone.”

  To the Reaper, that was the wrong answer.

  The Reaper stepped back and snapped, “Grow up, Dahlia! The worlds are a brutal place! People are going to get hurt—they’re hurt every day! You can help! You can fight for the innocent! Destroy the monsters! You’ve been blessed with so much power! Why not use it?”

  “At what cost?” I snapped back—shoving him away, “I value my own life too. If I expose myself—”

  He laughed angrily and shook a mocking finger at me, “There, that’s your real priority—yourself. Don’t even pretend to care about your friends.”

  I flinched.

  Bolstered by my reaction, like a predator who had discovered his prey’s weakness, the Reaper pounced. “It’s time to face the truth, Dahlia. It’s only a matter of time before your secret is out. Your future is grim, whether the rogues or the King get their hands on you. If you’re going to die or suffer anyway, you may as well reveal yourself on your own terms and help people in the process.”

  The thought made me sick. Was he threatening me? Or was this just a warning?

  “You’re wrong. I can keep—”

  He chuckled and cut in, “You’ve lived a comfortable life here while others have suffered. Maybe you should experience some of that pain for yourself. Maybe then you’ll finally understand.”

  The threat was plain now. He was threatening to reveal me.

  “Get out!” I screamed—pointing to the door.

  “With pleasure,” he sneered as he turned to leave, “Clearly, I was right to distrust you. Did you really intend to seduce me to discover my identity? Give me up to your Imm friends, and the Imm soldiers go away, right? That’s the best way to protect yourself—your priority.”

  “How the fuck do you know so much?” I snarled.

  “Because I KNOW YOU!” The Reaper roared back, “And I know you’ll throw me to the wolves at the first opportunity. You’re a heartless snake, Dahlia—the worst kind of selfish!”

  As the distance grew between us, I started to feel almost ill. Guilt, rage, and regret whirled inside me. His words each struck me harder than a fist. And the growing distance between us only made my pain worse. Despite our differences, this connection between us was special, and now, I risked losing it.

  “I would never—” I began as I started after him—reaching out a hand to stop him.

  “Don’t lie to me!” the Reaper yelled—whirling on me to push me away.

  His palm struck my chest with more force than I anticipated. I stumbled back in surprise—hitting my back against the entryway table and breaking one of the back legs, which sent it crashing to the ground, and forced the drawer to slip open.

  The contents scattered across the floor.

  Poems from Carmen, a green bracelet she’d made for me in exchange for the one I’d made for her, drawings and letters from Erich, and mementos from them both filled the entryway.

  And it felt like my heart broke with the table.

  Forgetting everything else, I sank to the ground with those mementos and began scooping them up. These were my most prized possessions—my connection to the people who had meant more to me than anything in all the worlds. No connection to the Reaper could ever compare to my feelings for my two friends and the reminder of the void left inside me once I’d lost them.

  And there were others who had left their mark on me—Mathy and her family. Max and his unwavering devotion. Maiza with her beautiful soul. Even Simon and Elaine, though I didn’t understand them in the slightest. My father…

  Well, he was a little more complicated.

  I sensed the Reaper watching me—perhaps judging me—but I didn’t care.

  “Dahlia—” he murmured distantly.

  “Get the FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I screamed at him—finally meeting his gaze with my own fury.

  He didn’t move—just watched me through the slits in his mask as I seethed.

  “I don’t know who you are, how you know me, or why you’re even here,” I began in a low voice that became louder as my determination grew, “I don’t give a fuck about this connection between us. I don’t care that you think I’m pathetic or selfish or whatever it is you believe about me. I have people I care about—who mean the worlds to me. I lost one once, and I can’t lose another. My priority is protecting them. Until I see some sign that we can truly bring down these Imms—some evidence that your efforts aren’t in vain—I’m not ready to die for your cause because I can’t protect the people I care about if I’m dead!”

  My words hung over the room as it fell into silence.

  The Reaper said nothing. He simply stared down at me as silence fell between us—watching me clutch my most treasured possessions.

  Time passed slowly with nothing but our breathing to fill the silence.

  And then, without a word, he knelt beside me and started to gather the papers and trinkets I’d collected. I felt the regret hanging over him—regret I didn’t understand—but he silently helped me collect everything he’d inadvertently scattered throughout my entryway.

  And when it was all safely back within the broken table, I started to rise, only to have him stop me with a firm hand on my shoulder. He stared at me for a long, quiet moment before asking, “Do you trust me?”

  I shook my head, “No—of course not.”

  He exhaled loudly through his mask.

  “Then can you take a chance on me—just this once? Can you close your eyes and keep them closed, no matter what happens in the next minute?” He asked, voice catching a little as if he was afraid I would refuse

  Curiosity warred with caution inside me. He was dangerous—so dangerous that I would be a fool to trust him. But why was the Reaper so afraid of me right now? Could I refuse him and maybe never know the answer?

  No. Right now, the only answer was to throw caution to the wind.

  Just this once.

  I nodded and closed my eyes with a whispered, “Yes.”

  I heard the quiet rustling of fabric, mixed with the sound of the Reaper’s forceful breathing. I managed not to flinch—not to open my eyes when I felt the warm touch of his fingers under my chin. But his intoxicating scent grew nearer. When his lips pressed to mine, and the world seemed to stop, my eyes almost flew open at the sudden rush of desire that coursed through me.

  As if sensing this, the Reaper pressed a hand to my face to cover my eyes and deepened the kiss—forcing my lips open with his tongue and devouring me. I pressed into him with a groan, encouraging him to continue, but my encouragement wasn’t enough for him. He ran gloved fingers through my hair, gripping my dark locks tightly as if to hold me in place as we consumed each other in search of satisfaction for our shared lust.

  The Reaper was nothing like the men who had come before him. I felt no urge to push him away—to hide from the intimacy of his kiss. Instead, felt every ounce of his own desire as he pushed into me with bruising force as if he could merge our bodies together into one with sheer force. And I wanted that.

  I wanted more. I wanted everything from the Reaper.

  I wanted him to take me into my bed and give him every inch of my flesh. I wanted to feel him inside me—to see the desire in his expression as he fucked me. I wanted him to take me and never let me go.

  I wanted everything.

  But the Reaper had other plans.

  With a pained groan, he pulled away, the shock of his sudden departure hitting me like a splash of cool water. Only a second later, I heard him throw open my front door, letting it slam into the wall with a crack. I opened my eyes just in time to see his hooded form disappear through the door and into the night.