Destined to the Reaper (The Shadow Realms #2)

Chapter 1

Pharos

A familiar rage simmered deep within me as Cornelius took malicious pleasure abusing yet another poor sod. The elder necromancer thrived on throwing his power around, crushing those weaker, and reminding them that they were beneath him and only lived by his mercy. In many ways, it was true. Worse still, he only wielded such tremendous control over life and death thanks to the powers I had unwittingly bestowed upon him.

Hermes, a petty trader way past his prime, shrank in on himself as Cornelius showered him with a plethora of insults. Bony, with withered skin heavily tanned by frequent exposure to the sun and the elements, the older male clutched the canvas fabric upon which sat the source of the necromancer’s ire with both hands.

“Do you take me for a fool, you wretched scum?” Cornelius hissed. “Did you really think you could pass off this trash as a manticore bone?”

“It… it does come from a man… manticore,” Hermes stuttered.

Even trapped as I was inside the necromancer’s body, I could access all his senses. And right now, the acrid stench of the old man’s terror permeated the room.

With a single flick of his hand, Cornelius invoked his Bone Magic to snap the man’s wrist. Hermes shrieked, his knees buckling as he held his damaged arm pressed against his chest. If not for the dirty counter he partially leaned on for support, he would have collapsed onto the dust covered wooden floor of his shop.

Then again, calling this pigsty a shop was overly generous. The small rectangular room would qualify more as a storage area or warehouse. Boxes and crates haphazardly positioned alongside the walls, and a few more piled in the center contained the devil only knew what. Half of them were contraband, counterfeits, or cheap alternatives to premium reagents the various mages and dark art practitioners of the city required. Dust and cobwebs claimed ownership of the goods that had never found any takers. Why he hadn’t gotten rid of them by now boggled my mind. But then, what else would one expect from a hoarder?

The shop possessed a single other room at the back that served as both Hermes’s office and residence. A moldy brown curtain left wide open hid nothing of the just as disastrous space. A cot with a soiled mattress occupied the left corner of the back room. The gray blankets covered in yellowish stains had once boasted a pristine white color. The toilet and sink sat next to a small wood stove which he used both to cook and heat the room during chilly winter days. It expressed all one needed to know about the old trader’s understanding of basic hygiene. As did the total absence of a bath or shower.

The old man’s blubbering pleas utterly failed to mollify Cornelius. Why in the nine hells would he have assumed it might? My host—although jailer would be a more appropriate term—had no sense of compassion or empathy. To him, everything and everyone was merely another tool to help him achieve greater power.

“Lie to me again, and the pain you feel right now will be but a gentle tap in comparison to what I will do to you next,” Cornelius warned in a dangerously low voice. “Where are the manticore bones I requested?”

Eyes bloodshot—likely due to an overindulgence in hard liquor—Hermes blinked away the tears trying to well in his eyes as he sniffed back the snot glistening at the edge of his veiny, bulbous nose.

“I swear I didn’t try to trick you, Master Cornelius,” Hermes said in a shaky voice. “I searched high and low for what you requested. The hunter from whom I acquired this swore it came from the offspring of a manticore.”

“Sired on some random lesser other creature, you worthless toad!” Cornelius spat. “I need a pureblood, not some fucking mutt!”

“I’m sorry, Master. I thought it wouldn’t matter…” Hermes said, his hand tightening beneath his damaged wrist where the skin had begun darkening as the broken bone pressed against it, as if attempting to pierce through. “I will set out again and find a pureblood this time.”

“All Hallows is almost upon us, you wretch. I gave you strict instructions, and you yet again failed me. You have nine days to make this right.”

“Nine days is impossible!” Hermes exclaimed with a crestfallen expression.

“Nine days!” Cornelius shouted. “And here’s a little incentive.”

Another wave of fury surged within me as the necromancer invoked my plague powers to initiate necrosis at the tip of the fingers of the same hand with a broken wrist. Hermes cried out as his nails darkened. The spell had been of low intensity, which made it even crueler.

“For every hour and every day you make me wait, the necrosis will spread,” Cornelius said with pure malevolence. “Deliver it in time, and I might consider reverting some of the damage. Fail me again, and we’ll see how well you will take to a mechanical hand instead.”

Ignoring the trader’s begging and pleading, Cornelius stormed out of the shop, leaving the door wide open. The wave of fresh air that hit us did little to wipe away the lingering stench of old sweat, dirt, and rot from Hermes’s place. It also did nothing to appease the fury raging inside me. Despite hiding those sentiments from my host, he knew exactly how his actions affected me, and he reveled in it. Even now, his entire foul being vibrated with smug cruelty. He loved reminding me that he owned me, that he could use my powers however he saw fit, and that my self-righteous indignation would only backfire against those I wished to protect.

I could count the extremely rare times I had used my plague powers against mortals. It was not something I enjoyed. For centuries, I dedicated my reaping abilities to easing the passage of the dying into the afterlife in the gentlest fashion possible, only reserving the most brutal approach to fiends and truly malicious people. To see my powers thus desecrated was an even greater torment than the loss of my freedom.

I immediately cast out those somber thoughts. Dwelling on the miserable fate that befell me would only send me further down the spiral of despair that constantly skirted at the edge of what was left of me.

As much as the pain Hermes would suffer over the next couple of weeks saddened me, I couldn’t help but rejoice that Cornelius had not received what he had been hoping for. I didn’t know what new evil plot he had in mind. The necromancer had been unusually secretive with me of late. Just like I could block my thoughts from him, he could block his from me. Most of the time, he took immense pleasure in making a display of informing me of his latest scheme for the mere pleasure of getting a rise out of me. That he didn’t want me to know meant he was up to something dreadful that would have long-lasting and maybe even catastrophic effects on a large segment of the population.

Despite being his prisoner, I had some limited ways of thwarting or messing up his plans when they were too extreme. I didn’t know what he wanted with a manticore’s bones. Although long-lived and an adept magic user, I never dabbled in the arcane arts, let alone in the type of dark magic Cornelius loved. In the past 498 years as his coerced servant, I’d learned far more about it than I cared to. I only knew that bones and organs of those mythical creatures could be used for the type of rituals no one but the most powerful arcane users could hope to successfully accomplish and live to reap the rewards.

As was common, the countless passersby along the wide streets of the district immediately swerved away from us, giving Cornelius a wide berth. Saying people feared him would be quite the understatement. Everyone knew of his great wealth and the ruthlessness with which he leveraged it to bend others to his will. Much fewer knew of the darker dealings he was involved in. But all understood that steering clear of him and avoiding his notice was the safest way to go.

Over the years, the citizens of Willow Grove grew to embrace witches and peddlers of assorted services related to the occult. The arcane practitioners repelling the demonic hordes that had threatened the small town they used to be certainly played a large part in that. And yet, the locals still deluded themselves into thinking that monsters only lurked in dark forests and cursed lands.

If only they knew how many demons, vampires, doppelgangers, and countless otherworldly beings walked alongside them daily, they would lose their minds.

With All Hallowtide only a few days away, an even greater number of shadowy beings flocked to the city. As the citizens of Willow Grove observed the ancient tradition of Souling and Guising, beings from the netherworld would be able to strut about in their true form. Not only would they do so without raising much suspicion, but they’d also likely earn tremendous praise instead for the realism of their costumes.

More and more cities and counties constrained the celebration to All Hallows Eve on October 31 st . Some included All Saints Day—or All Hallows Day as many still called it—on November 1 st . But we included All Souls Day on November 2 nd .

For the children, it was a wonderful form of entertainment. Not only did they get to wear disguises, roam the streets after sunset, and be welcomed to come knock on the door of nobility and the wealthiest, but they also got to beg for food which was to be given unquestionably. For the poor, it was a chance at a full belly with something better than scraps or moldy leftovers. They could also beg for money instead without being sent away with a boot in the rear. In exchange for such bounty, they merely had to pray for the souls of the people they visited as well as those of their dead relatives, and to help ward off evil.

But adepts of the dark arts understood the true importance of those prayers. They genuinely helped ward off the increased presence of the foul beings hiding in plain sight during those three days. For that reason, the mages and sorcerers didn’t object when the church started encouraging the people to give a tasty pastry called soul cakes to the visitors instead of leaving food and wine for the wandering spirits over that period. Contrary to old beliefs, such Pagan offerings didn’t sate and send those spirits away but lured even more of them to the city.

A mesmerizing light ahead cast out all such wandering thoughts.

Conflicting emotions swirled within me at the sight of Kali Jenkins by our carriage. Like most necromancers, she tended to dress in dark colors. Where Cornelius loved black, Kali had a thing for dark shades of red, purple, and occasionally green. This time, a deep burgundy cinched dress flattered the delightful curves of her slender body, with a narrow waist that flared into a voluptuous rump begging to be grabbed, perky breasts perfect to fit a possessive palm, a long neck made to welcome thirsty fangs, an angelic face whose innocent appearance hid the hot vixen that lurked beneath, and plump lips made to swallow a man’s thick c—

“Fuck you, Cornelius!” I hissed once I realized such foul and lecherous thoughts actually emanated from him.

I had many thoughts about Kali, some of them covetous, but never in such a disrespectful manner.

He chuckled maliciously, making the people nearby glance at him with an even more disturbed expression. Nobody knew of my existence, not even his apprentices. Only he could hear me, no matter how loudly I shouted. On rare occasions, if I or circumstances made him sufficiently angry, people could get a glimpse of my presence within him looking as if a demonic creature were trying to push out of him from under his skin.

Abusing Kali was but one of the many ways in which he enjoyed tormenting me. From the first time I’d laid eyes on her four years ago, I’d been enthralled by the beauty of her soul. In my wonder, I’d been too slow hiding my emotions. As a man whore, Cornelius would have naturally pursued her just to add another notch to his belt as she was an attractive woman. But knowing she had piqued my interest suddenly made her a challenge to conquer… and destroy.

In many ways, I felt responsible for the woes that now tortured her. If not for Cornelius’s constant desire to hurt me, he would have quickly tired of the chase after Kali first turned him down. But the thought of defiling the one female to have prompted such a strong reaction from me in centuries was too good for him to pass up.

Even with the sorrow on her face, Kali looked stunning as she apologized to her brother—our coach driver. Every time I witnessed this, it further broke my heart. Jasper, her older fraternal twin, had begged Cornelius for an apprenticeship with him. Although his sister had tagged along, it had been more in the capacity of an advisor and not out of any personal desire to also become one of his pupils. Every year, hundreds of aspiring candidates came groveling for a position with one of the most powerful necromancers of our era, if not of the past few generations.

The moment the siblings stepped into his study, Cornelius knew he had no use for her brother, other than as a means to an end. His shock when she declined his invitation for them to join as a pair quickly shifted into an anger filled with malicious determination. No one refused him. He would not only humble her, but also make her suffer and rue every single day she denied him what he deemed rightfully his. And should she ever surrender—which to him was inevitable—he intended to make her pay a thousandfold for each moment she delayed.

And he did so by turning her brother into an undead servant. While Jasper would never have become a particularly powerful necromancer in his own right, had he not let excessive ambition blind him, he could have made a decent living from his profession and achieved respectable levels. If not for Cornelius’s sick need for retaliation and obsession with punishing Kali, he would have simply rejected Jasper’s request and sent him on his way.

Instead, Jasper was now standing in a decaying corpse, staring off in the distance while his sister spoke gently to him. His mind wasn’t gone… not fully. He could still feel pain, sorrow, and regret. He could hear and comprehend most of the words she spoke to him. He simply couldn’t respond.

To the rest of the world, Jasper looked like a dashing, elegantly dressed young man stoically awaiting the return of his employer by his carriage. The stern glances the crowd leveled on Kali confirmed they interpreted the scene as him staring away from the strange woman who wouldn’t stop harassing him with her unwanted attentions.

While Kali’s attire was the proper level of demure not to have her pegged as a sex worker, people probably assumed her to be a social climber attempting to use her womanly wiles to ensnare a handsome young man with a stable, well-paid position. As she only recently moved into the city, merely renting a small house near the Fey Woods, the locals didn’t know of the blood bond that linked them.

Appearances could be so utterly deceiving, especially when helped by a glamour spell like the one that hid Jasper’s true appearance or the fact that two skeletal horses were pulling that carriage.

“I will never give up on you, brother,” Kali said in a pained voice. “I know you can’t respond, but I also know that you hear me. Please don’t despair. Just hang in there a little longer.”

“My beautiful Kali,” Cornelius said in a sickeningly purring tone. “How nice of you to come pay a visit to your brother. Or should I be so bold and assume it is my delightful presence you seek?”

By the way her body stiffened, and her head jerked around to look at us over her shoulder, Kali had been too focused on her twin to notice our approach.

The instant anger and disgust that flicked over her features—quickly hidden—gave me no small amount of pleasure. Too many females fell for Cornelius’s mysterious charm. Tall and lithe, he had the pale skin and androgynous charm common to vampires, although he wasn’t one himself. Piercing blue eyes with thick lashes peered out of his oval face framed by a curtain of long, black, wavy hair.

He quirked his lips in that obnoxious way he considered seductive as he tilted his head to the side to give her a slow once over. Feet slightly spread in a position he deemed manly, he rested both hands on top of the skull pommel of his walking stick in front of him. He didn’t need it. His wide range of magic made sure to keep his body young and flawless. He just liked the style… not to mention the lethal blade hidden within, laced with deadly poison.

“Cornelius,” Kali said in greeting with that delightfully throaty voice of hers.

She flicked her long, straight black hair over her shoulder as she turned to face him. It had been months since she last came to Willow Grove. I didn’t know what she’d been up to during that time, but her power had undeniably grown. To my relief, I perceived no sliminess emanating from her aura, as was normally the case when someone quickly acquired new powers through morally questionable means.

Despite the politely neutral expression on her face, the hatred burning in her obsidian eyes couldn’t be mistaken. Even though it wasn’t aimed at me, it still stung to have her stare in my direction with such animosity. The darker shade her soul systematically took in his presence also saddened me. I felt bereft of its otherwise enticing light.

“It is normal for a sister to want to visit with her fraternal twin,” she continued in a neutral tone. “But I also wanted to see you.”

Cornelius immediately emitted a purring sound that whipped my anger and irrational possessiveness of the young woman into a frenzy. His delighted reaction revealed the fact that I had betrayed my emotions, which I quickly silenced.

“Ah! I knew you’d finally come to your senses and reciprocate my affections,” he said in the most disgustingly suave fashion.

Once again, Kali clamped down on how repulsive she found him and waved a dismissive hand. “While your attentions flatter me, I am not looking for any type of relationship. All that matters to me is my brother and granting him peace. I want to discuss you releasing him.”

He opened his eyes in an exaggerated display of shock and surprise. “Release him! Why would I let go of such a well-trained pet? You should be happy I’ve provided him with steady and reliable employment. In these tough economic times—”

“That’s not employment, that’s slavery!” Kali snapped, dropping any pretense of civility. “He is rotting on his feet! However he wronged you, it’s been four years. He’s suffered enough. He’s been punished enough.”

“No, my beauty. It is never enough,” Cornelius said in a dangerously low voice. “Anyone who crosses me will feel my wrath. Mercy does not exist in my vocabulary.”

“By the Gods, what the fuck do you want?! Surely there’s something I can get you in exchange for his freedom?” Kali asked in a pleading voice laced with a mix of anger and despair.

I hated seeing her like this. I hated that my powers and my attraction to her had played a part in causing her this pain. And above all, I hated how helpless I was to fix any of it.

Cornelius took a step forward, invading her personal space. She immediately took a step back to restore the distance between them.

“You know what I want, Kali. Serve me in all ways, and I’ll release him.”

“Never!” she spat out. “He made that mistake, and see where that left him?”

“Jasper is weak,” Cornelius said in a dismissive fashion. “Your power was always greater than his was or ever could be. I could make you legendary. Even now I can sense how much your powers have grown since our last encounter.”

“I don’t need power. I never craved it. All I want is for my brother to be free. All those who have served you met a very unpleasant fate. I will not be your next zombie,” she replied angrily.

He shrugged. “Be loyal to me, and you’ll have nothing to fear. Like you said so well yourself, you do not crave power. They did, and their greed was their undoing. Serve me, and I’ll show you things you never even thought possible.”

“Fuck that!” she snarled.

“Oh, my darling, that’s obviously part of the deal,” he purred, stirring another wave of fury deep within me.

“The only way you’ll ever have me will be my cold dead body,” Kali hissed.

Cornelius snorted, both amused by my anger and her comment. “Are you threatening me with a good time, my dear? Dead or alive is all the same to me. Willing or not, you will serve me, Kali. And when I fuck that tight cunt of yours, I’ll make you beg me for forgiveness for ever denying me.”

“Fuck you, you twisted psycho!” Kali shouted before spitting on the ground.

It hadn’t touched him, but I felt the cold anger rising within him to have been thus disrespected. My heart sank as I awaited what would follow. The air rippled around us as he summoned an illusion. No one walking past us along the street would see what truly was happening. To them, there would only be a carriage with Jasper standing at the ready while a mysterious young woman discussed with his employer.

“Jasper, your sister dropped something. We cannot allow the beautiful streets of our city to be sullied like this,” Cornelius said in a sickly-sweet voice, his eyes locked with Kali’s with a cruel glint as he spoke. “Be a good boy and lick it off.”

Kali slapped a hand over her mouth, and tears welled in her eyes as she stared in horror as her brother—or what remained of him—got down on his knees to comply with the order. I could barely repress the cold fury threatening to overwhelm me. I wanted to lash at him, but it would only further infuriate him. In turn, he would find more disgusting ways of taking it out on her.

“I will kill you for this,” Kali whispered, her voice burning with hatred.

“You’re welcome to try, my love. I’ll eagerly await your challenge,” Cornelius said smugly.

After one final guilty look at her brother, who was now slowly getting back onto his feet, she stormed off, shattering the illusion.

I watched her walk away, feeling defeated.