Unreap My Heart (The Reaper Series) (10 page)

He faced Arianne. “Let’s get one thing straight. We’re in this together because of the bargain we’ve made. We are not BFFs or whatever you humans call it. We are not going to share sob stories. And we sure as hell are not going to treat this like some bonding road trip complete with soundtrack. Every step of this journey is dangerous. You almost died inhaling Angel’s tears because you were stupid enough to put your fear of me above the fear you instead should have for everything around you. Remember this, little girl, everything about the Underverse is dangerous. I’ve lived more lifetimes than you can count and I still have to survive by the skin of my teeth here. You wouldn’t make it a day without my help. So make this easier on the both of us by shutting up and following my lead.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. He wondered for a second how mean he’d have to be to get those tears to actually fall. Just when he thought he’d equated Arianne with the words “lost cause,” she did something that completely surprised him.

“You done?” she grumbled.

“Not by half.”

Chapter 10

CYA

G
RANMARE
B
ABA’S
H
OUSE
L
OOKED
…weird. Some kind of black leather made up the walls, but it had red veins, which Arianne had never seen on cow leather before. The same boney material which made up the frame of the bed she’d woken up in stretched the leather. People around the Underverse sure liked their bones for furniture. Death’s chair had been completely made of bone—definitely human judging by the skulls at the ends of the armrests. Something told Arianne they weren’t a fashion statement either. Bleached bones—the next trend in home furnishing. She shook her head. Didn’t have the right ring to it.

She opened and closed her hand. Her pinky wouldn’t stop twitching. A slight tick had started in her right eye, and her lips felt really dry, like she’d become severely dehydrated. Tomas said she didn’t need to eat or drink, so why did she crave water like the last thing she wanted before she died?

An itch sprang up on her elbow, which quickly spread to her upper arm by the time they reached the barbwire fence surrounding the little hut Granmare Baba called home. She scratched and scratched until her skin heated beneath her nails. She may be a soul, but she certainly felt like she had a body. Balthazar said something to her, but the itching had gotten so bad she couldn’t focus on his words. What was going on with her?

Arianne’s vision doubled for a second. She blinked it away.

She called Balthazar’s name. To her ear it sounded more like a garbled mess.

“You’re late,” a crony, cackling voice bellowed from within the hunt. Certainly loud enough to pierce through the ringing in Arianne’s left ear. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Balthazar, who’d been facing the hut this whole time, finally turned and faced her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he’d lost all the color in his already pale face. How weird was that? A pale guy getting paler. She would have laughed if her body hadn’t begun to convulse.

“Quickly, bring her in,” the voice said from somewhere.

Arianne’s vision tunneled the second Balthazar swept her up in his arms. She would have resisted, but her limbs twitched too badly for her to control any of them. To be carried the way Balthazar carried her, like some Prince Charming, felt too intimate. Like she was betraying Niko somehow. Balthazar was only trying to help, the part of her brain that was still rational thought. But she wasn’t exactly listening to that part anymore. She was too busy trying not to throw up.

Her legs went numb when Balthazar stepped into the gloom of the hut’s interior. The place looked bigger on the inside. Despite her tunnel vision—the last step before passing out—she remained conscious. Oh she wanted to, no
needed
to pass out already. She begged for it. Maybe even heard herself beg aloud. She couldn’t be too sure since the ringing now invaded her right ear too.

In a corner of the round hut, a hunched mound moved in a flurry. It murmured to itself about Angel’s tears and careless Enforcers—whatever that meant. A kettle floated to a hook by the fire, and in seconds it whistled a shrill tune. A snap of fingers and the kettle unhooked itself and floated back to the mumbling mound that seemed to have a pile of scarves on its shoulders or back—they seemed like one thing.

All this time Balthazar still cradled her in his arms. He stood there, waiting. She wished he’d just let her go. Lying on the floor right now would be preferable to being this close to his broad shoulders and massive chest. She could feel him inhale and exhale, and if it wasn’t for the ear-infection type of ringing, she’d hear his heartbeat too.

The mound pointed at a cot in another corner of the round hut. Arianne counted countless corners. So many of them. Balthazar inched his way to the cot, lifting her higher when she needed to avoid an assortment of pots, pants, and bottles with stuff in them. Was that a pig’s head in one of the jars? She couldn’t really focus anymore. Everything jumbled into one big mess, like the inside of the hut.

Balthazar finally settled her onto the cot and stepped away, but not before he brushed aside a lock of her hair that had fallen out of the braid and onto her forehead. Now, why would he do something like that? Did he actually look guilty? Impossible. She chalked it up to being delusional. Whatever caused her to twitch and itch uncontrollably also made her hallucinate.

Hallucinate.

The Angel’s tears.

Did she inhale them again? No. They’d walked away from the powdery hills. And Balthazar had patted away the last of the powder on her clothing. It was not possible that she was hallucinating again, but it sure felt like it.

The mound, finished with whatever it mumbled about, moved closer until a face with a giant mole at the tip of its nose hovered above Arianne’s. She turned away, but a callused hand forced her to face back. She closed her eyes. Too late. The image already burned itself behind her eyelids.

A strong arm cradled Arianne’s shaking shoulders so she could sit up. She opened her eyes to blurry images. The tall, dark shadow near the cot must be Balthazar, while the smaller one beside her, helping her sit up, must be the mound. The rim of a wooden cup came to her lips. Someone said, “drink,” and she did before coughing because of the bitter brew. It tasted of old tea and smelled like sweaty socks. She turned away again with a grimace. The same callused hand forced her head back so she could drink some more of the foul liquid.

“No more,” Arianne whined, shaking her head.

“Just one last sip, dearie,” the cackling voice said. Arianne forced one last sip before collapsing into the layers and layers of quilts on the cot. “That’s a good girl.”

“You should have brought her here sooner,” the mound scolded in her cackley voice.

“She couldn’t move fast enough,” Balthazar answered. It was the politest he’d been since she’d met him in D’s office.

“You should have carried her.”

“I should have done many things.”

The crone pointed a knobby finger at him. “Don’t get smart with me, boy. I see the knife on this girl, and unlike her, I am not averse to using it.”

Was that an actual flinch?
Arianne’s vision cleared enough to see Balthazar shrink away from the old woman—Granmare Baba, she assumed. The twitching stopped. So did the itching. Her lips no longer felt dry and parched. Whatever she drank had done its job. She tried to sit up, but the old woman held her down with strength surprising for someone her age. Balthazar said everyone had a different image of Granmare Baba. To Arianne, she seemed really old.

Granmare Baba laughed a cackling laugh. “Oh, my dear, you see what you want to see. What has the handsome Balthazar been filling your pretty little head with? Has he told you I am a witch?”

Arianne licked her lips before she said, “He said you were
the
witch. That I should not speak to you unless spoken to. That I shouldn’t be rude. And most importantly, that I shouldn’t leave anything you can control me with behind.”

She laughed again. “Smart boy, isn’t he? Always been too cautious for his own good.”

Maybe some truth hid behind Balthazar’s rules because, even if he looked like he wanted to say something, a muscle jumped on his cheek instead.

“How are you feeling?” Granmare Baba placed the wooden cup on a table that hadn’t been there when Balthazar had put Arianne on the cot.

“Better.” Arianne tried to sit up again. Her body still felt stiff, but she could move better than before.

“The Angel’s tears shouldn’t affect you anymore.” To Balthazar, she said, “You did well.”

“Thank you,” Balthazar grumbled, apparently content to stare at the floor for some reason.

“I’m sure he’s already given you my name,” she said to Arianne. “But I would like to formally introduce myself. I am Granmare Baba. You can call me Baba for short.”

Arianne caught Balthazar shaking his head at her. “I think I will stick to Granmare Baba if it’s all the same to you.”

The old woman’s smile showed yellow, uneven teeth. “Good girl. You’re very smart. I see what Nikolas sees in you. But for your sake, forget you even knew him.” She stretched the hump she had for a back before returning to her hunched position. Arianne wanted desperately to ask her what she’d meant, but Granmare Baba was already continuing before she could form the proper question. “D is getting too soft in his old age. Being stabbed with Brianne’s Bitterness isn’t like him at all.”

Arianne couldn’t say anything anymore; neither did Balthazar since Granmare Baba didn’t speak to either of them in particular. They looked at each other, and Balthazar gave her the subtlest of nods.

The crone went on. “Now he’s sent you on a fool’s mission to find the Redeemer. You should have known better than to accept, Balthazar.”

“I get to challenge him for his seat when I return,” he said.

“Ah—” she waved her finger in his face “—but you shouldn’t let your greed cloud your judgment. There are other ways to gain what you desire.”

“Not in the way I wish to achieve it, Granmare Baba.”

“So you let him manipulate you into protecting this girl because she is the only one who can recognize the Redeemer. She’s already proven to be a liability to you.”

Arianne resented the insinuation. She hated that they talked about her like she wasn’t there. Her gut told her the stupidest thing to do right now was interrupt. So, like Balthazar had done, she kept her mouth shut until Granmare Baba spoke to her again.

“The bargain has been struck,” Balthazar answered her, all his rudeness replaced by a polite calm. “That’s why I’m here now. I ask for your help in masking her scent so we may have safe passage to the Voyeur.”

The crone huffed. “What do you want with that bitch?”

Balthazar dipped his chin once as if in agreement. “You know as well as I that she is the only one who can lead us to the Redeemer. She who knows all.”

“A two bit gossip if you ask me.”

“Your rivalries are legendary, but her beauty cannot match yours, Granmare Baba.” Balthazar took her wrinkled hand and kissed it. What did he see that Arianne didn’t? Could the old woman standing beside the cot really be as beautiful as Balthazar made her seem?

The old woman’s gaze flicked to Arianne. “More beautiful than your limited imagination can ever conceive, my dear.”

Arianne dropped her gaze and said, “I’m sorry, Granmare Baba. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You have a smart one here, Balthazar. I’m tempted to keep her for myself.”

Arianne’s heart kicked in her chest.

“As much as I want to leave her here with you to play with, Granmare Baba, I have use for her yet.” Mischief sparked in Balthazar’s eyes when he winked at Arianne. She wanted to roll her eyes but her fear of offending the witch stopped her. “I will trade the hoof of a Nightmare Steed for her residual energy scent to be masked from all who meet her.”

Granmare Baba tapped her chin. The one long hair growing out at the tip of it quivered when she spoke. “A drop of your blood is my price for what you ask, nothing less.”

“For a drop of my blood, you mask her scent and give her partial knowledge of the Underverse so she will stop asking me inane questions at every turn.”

Arianne didn’t like the direction this bargain took. Rule number three said she should leave nothing. What would it mean if he gave the witch a drop of his blood? Would she be able to control him? Arianne couldn’t allow that, but an invisible force kept her mouth shut. She was unable to speak no matter how hard she tried. The haggling continued.

“For a drop of your blood and the Nightmare Steed’s hoof, I will do both those things and even throw in a talisman that will tell you how long D has left.” She waved her wrinkly hand. “I will not even charge you for the potion she drank because of her stupidity.”

“Done!”

Arianne heard the exclamation mark in Balthazar’s voice. Only then did the invisible force let her go. She tested her mouth, and it opened just fine. Now, as to who prevented her from speaking, she couldn’t be sure.