Page 105 of Down from the Tower

“The Knights of Camelot are coming,” I interrupt, raising a brow. “And Death bleeds across the kingdom. Midas must be afraid of the attack, or he wouldn’t take such drastic measures.”

“You know nothing!” Dorah moves, trying to leave the space, but her soul turns back to me. She hasn’t made it halfway across the room. “Why can’t I go,” she asks, fear in her voice as her brow furrows.

“Because I’m the only Reaper in the Kingdom, and your soul wants to pass on. Midas is playing with death, but his Golden Touch has no power over an angel of Death.”

Rapzunel’s head snaps around but I resist the urge to look at her. I’ve never talked about it that way before, and I can’t waste time at this moment. As I twirl the scythe, Dorah backs up.

“No,” she growls, shaking her head. “I won’t go!”

“You don’t have a choice,” I tell her. “There’s pressure all throughout the kingdom from the energy Midas is trying to control. It will corrupt him and eat him alive. He’s still among the living, for now, but a living person cannot control so many dead. That’s why you haven’t walked off yet. His presence is weakened by trying to handle magic his living body can’t withstand. Even if you drank the water in this kingdom for years, too many spirits are being called to him. The pull per soul is weak, so your instinct is to stay here with me.”

“No!”

“It’s alright, Dorah,” I say with ease, twisting the blade so it hangs high in the air, “I’ll enjoy sending your soul into nothing.”

Dragging the blade downward, the rift opens. The Queen’s eyes widen, her ghostly figure shifting backwards before she’s tugged forwards. “No! I won’t go!”

“You don’t have a choice,” I reply. “It’s my job to send on the dead. I will reap you even if I have to use the blade to send bits of your soul through, piece by piece. And when I find the King, I’m hacking him to pieces before he goes.”

She growls, but struggles against the pull. “I won’t go in there!”

“Oh, Dorah, the dead don’t get to choose. When the Reaper chooses you, there’s nothing you can do.”

Sweeping the blade wide, I feel the pull of energy around us. Dorah’s spirit wails, but that isn’t unusual for those clinging to life. There’s little resistance, and since she died just a few minutes ago her spirit isn’t solidified enough to be much of a problem.

The blade catches her in an arc, pushing her into the tear. I don’t waste any time, bringing the blade down hard into her and making her spirit scatter.

Using my hand, I push the shadows at her. Dorah turns back into a transparent spirit just before tumbling into the void, manic eyes turning towards the princess.

“You did this to me!”

27 Rapunzel

Mother disappears through the gap in space, her soul vanishing when Zarev’s shadows push her through, and I’m numb as she turns to nothing. The gap closes without my Reaper having to do a thing, and he swings the scythe across his back before daring to approach me.

I stare down at my hands where my mother’s blood paints my palms. I know it’s in my hair too, and possibly all over the rest of me with how she died. I dig deep into myself, past the numbness, waiting for the feelings of horror to rise up.

I killed my mother.

And I can’t find it in me to care.

Zarev helps me to my feet, his grip strong and solid on my chin once I find my balance. “You did so well, Golden Girl.”

A small part of me thrives under his words. We didn’t talk about what would happen when I came back to Tressa, I just took off looking for answers. I was scared of what the surge of spirits heading for Tressa meant and what might happen to Zarev if he had to fight with me. But he looks more than all right now, his red-orange eyes piercing through me as he strokes my chin, assessing me quietly to see if there’s any hidden pain.

There’s a world of problems beyond this room, but I step into his embrace and hold tight anyway. “I’m sorry I left you behind.”

Zarev scoffs, his hands smoothing down my back. “Why? You had things handled.”

I chuckle softly at his words, pride shooting through me. As morbid as it is, he’s right. He never intervened except to remind me to take a breath and send Dorah on once she was dead.

I never thought my mother would be the first person I saw him reap.

Staying in his grasp, I feel the exhaustion slipping in. Mentally and physically I’m utterly spent, but we can’t stop yet. Midas has to be in the middle of his plan, and with people possibly storming the kingdom, I need to finish this.

We have to finish this. The wall could break, or the citizens could revolt and get caught in the fray. I know there are soldiers somewhere, and Anastasia and Priscilla should be someplace in the palace too. If we stop for a rest, everything could go wrong.

My mother’s already died by my hand. What’s one more parent?

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