Page 45 of Down from the Tower

“In time. Your soul isn’t in jeopardy of becoming turned. You’ll be fine for a few days. And since you’ve already latched onto me, you’ll keep returning until the journey is over.”

He shakes his head. “What do you mean, turned? In Camelot we talk of the Reapers like demons. The Grim have no pity for those they cross paths with.”

I offer him a slow smirk. “We are not the Brothers Grim, Modred. They passed long ago. Their legacy lives on though. Reapers are very selective on who we show mercy, but we aren’t the judge of your final destination. We’re simply here to ensure the souls pass on from this world and don’t get stuck in limbo.”

It’s much more complicated than that, since the Reapers didn’t exist for years before we were created, but Modred doesn’t need to know that.

He continues to complain beneath his breath before he turns back to the trees. His soul is getting into the habit of wandering, something that all spirits do after death. The separation from his physical form leaves him feeling lost and confused, and wandering is common. He can’t help himself.

I wait for several long minutes after he disappears into the trees before activating the stone. My magic is down, but the dark of night will help me recharge if I let my body rest. I still have enough to make the stone work, and after several moments Raymundo’s face flashes across the screen.

“Zarev,” he says, his image shifting around. He appears to be walking, and with the lights illuminating the background I’m willing to bet he’s at the tavern. “Escape Tressa yet?”

“You could say that,” I reply, glancing towards the princess. “I brought a Golden Flower with me.”

“Flower?” Raymundo continues, and he shifts around until the background is darker. “Zarev, you did take care of the princess didn’t you?”

I roll my eyes. “No. She isn’t the danger, Midas is.”

“But does she have magic? We need to find the dead hiding in Tressa, not help to keep them trapped. Something doesn’t let the souls leave. That’s what you were supposed to figure out.”

I chew the side of my cheek. I was in Tressa for nearly three weeks. “I never felt a soul passing until tonight. It was a visitor from another land.”

“Tressa takes visitors? I thought that a shrewd king like Midas wouldn’t allow that.”

“He holds court with Camelot, like we thought. Midas has his fingers in too many pools, and he’s going to be the problem.”

“But not the princess?” Raymundo questions, leaning closer to the stone. “If she can control life-”

“I think she is life,” I tell my friend, and his eyes widen. “She does something with her magic. Even she doesn’t seem to understand it. But she controls age and we just learned she can heal.”

“We?” He drags a hand through his hair. “Where are you? If she can play with life-”

“That’s not what this is.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing myself to stay calm. “There’s something unusual about Rapunzel. The King kept her locked in a tower and only brought her out when it was convenient for him. She had bars on her windows and locks on her doors. When he did bring her out, she held audience with his guests and used her magical hair to reverse the aging process.”

Raymundo blinks slowly, and I know it sounds as wild as it feels. “You’re speaking in past tense. Is the Golden King dead?”

“Hardly. We escaped the castle after she accidentally killed Modred from Camelot.”

Silence. My Hell Brother’s mouth falls open, his eyes widening almost comically. Going over the wall was supposed to reduce problems, not create more.

Finally, he licks his lips and speaks again. “She - Rapuznel, she killed a member of Camelot?”

“Yes.”

He purses his lips. “When I spoke to Lucius last, he said a ship bearing Arthur’s flag sails past Thornton Palace. It’s small, discreet, but noticeable if you know what to look for. The Mad Queen could have allies in Camelot. I don’t see a small vessel taking on the Endless Sea to Ander Son’s Way.”

“She possibly has allies in Tressa as well,” I mutter. My hand moves to my chest when I shift the wrong way, and Raymundo’s keen eyes follow the movement.

“There’s blood covering your tattoos.”

I blink, glancing down. A mix of dried red and deep black blood covers the back of my hand, obscuring the slashes through the spade symbol. I guess some of the princesses' blood stained my hands. “We were injured during the escape. King Midas kindly shot me with gold.”

“And he attacked his daughter?”

“No, Modred did that before she killed him.”

Raymundo drags a hand across his face, gesturing for me to go on. I give him a brief recap of the last few weeks. I guess Lucius didn’t pass much along when we talked weeks ago.

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