Page 28 of Reaper's Pack

Gunnar

Over the last month, Hazel’s daily routine had, much like ours, become clockwork.

And I made note of every minute detail of it.

Breakfast at eight o’clock. She was trying to turn us omnivorous, serving an array of cooked meats, breads, and fruits that the pack gobbled up—because why wouldn’t we? Much of it tasted far better than the raw flesh we’d been raised on.

As soon as we drifted into the kitchen and settled on the stools around the island with a feast before us, she was gone. Out to the ward, which she parted with her scythe, then through the opening and into the great wide world. The reaper would return around noon for lunch; in the time between, we were expected to study human history and behavior.

Which, for the most part, we did.

Knox had actually encouraged it, and I’d always been a glutton for information; studying humanity came easy to me. The more we knew about the realm we intended to lose ourselves in, the better we would eventually assimilate.

Not that Declan seemed all that interested in assimilating anywhere without Hazel, his puppy love infinitely worse after their first real-world training session the other week, but, at the end of the day, he’d go with the pack. We all would.

Afternoons were for training, as individuals and as a team, the tasks asked of us steadily increasing in difficulty as the weeks went on. Then supper at six o’clock. After, the night was ours. Hazel sat in her bedroom, alone, in silence, or occasionally outside on a rickety bench to watch the sunset. Once, I’d caught her in the shadows outside the sunroom’s door, slumped against the wall, listening as I played her records. Generally, come nightfall, we all retreated to our wing for a reprieve from her scent, her curves, her smile—her sweet laughter, the sound ringing in my ears even in sleep.

That was our day, every day, for the last forty. August had rolled into September, the weather taking a slight dip, the humidity cut in half and the winds fiercer when it rained. Hazel never strayed from her routine, nor did we—and that would be her undoing.

For as soon as she left us at breakfast today, a smattering of cured meats at our disposal, along with scrambled eggs and sourdough buns, I followed. Knox gave me permission with a slight nod and a flick of his gaze toward the main door, while Declan purposefully ignored the whole thing, busying himself with the new coffee maker and pretending that what I was about to do wasn’t happening.

Burying his head in the sand, more like.

If we ever wanted to leave this place, to cross through the ward and get the upper hand on the tantalizing creature who haunted our—my—dreams, it had to be done. Her scythe was the ultimate weapon, her ward utterly impenetrable.

Except when she crossed through it. Declan had confirmed it—unwittingly, of course, his excitement about his first reap loosening his tongue. When she cut through the magical barrier, it stayed open for a set amount of time. Over the last five days, I had confirmed it for myself, following her out to the edge of the property, scrutinizing every second of her comings and goings.

Scrutinizing her.

But never mind that.

Sometimes, Hazel sealed the ward behind her with her scythe. Other times, if she appeared distracted, she wandered off into the forest on the other side without so much as a backward glance. When that happened, the ward sealed itself, as if on a timer.

Sixty seconds.

That was all I had. Sixty seconds to race through undetected, silent as the grave.

If I failed, the ward would slice me in half—no mercy, no quarter. It would do its duty to protect all within it.

If she saw me, heard me, smelled me, then the plan was fucked. Any hope of slipping free from bondage—gone.

Tracking her had been enjoyable, but that pleasure fell to the wayside this morning. There was too much riding on this moment for my usual lazy study of her actions, her expressions, the swish of her silvery-white hair with every fucking step.

The wind was in my favor this morning, just enough to rustle the cedars, but not so wild as to give my scent away. I followed her at a brisk pace, tracking her through the forest, using all her training tips against her. Even if she hadn’t trained us in tracking, her smell was a dead giveaway, catching on spiny green branches, her black dress leaving dewdrops of sweet alyssum on the scraggly underbrush. Even with my eyes closed, I’d find her.

An unsettling thought, really, one that I pushed far out of my mind—because if I thought too deeply on her, on how easily she drew me in, how her scent and her voice and every damn part of her called to every damn part of me, then I’d lose her.

Body low to the forest floor, I followed at a safe enough distance, downwind, watching the up-and-down motion of her scythe’s curved blade through the trees rather than Hazel herself. They were one and the same, a reaper and her scythe, and while she had stopped carrying it everywhere around the house, she took it with her on these daily jaunts into the mortal realm. Why, I had no clue, but I would soon find out.

When she stopped at the ward, its magic slightly warping the forest on the other side, like peering through a stained glass window, I dropped. In my shifted form, I blended with the shadows, the darkness fading fast beneath a rising morning sun. Same as always, she sliced a line clean into the ward, then stepped through. I waited, holding my breath, still as stone.

Today was a distracted day—a day she didn’t turn back and close the ward herself. Sixty seconds. Enough time for anything to creep through, including a hellhound.

Ears up, I listened to her gentle footfalls on the other side of the ward, then blitzed for the opening when it was clear she had carried on walking. Unsuspecting, our reaper. She seemed to have developed some trust in us these last forty days; Declan had had a lot to do with that, and that worked in our favor, whether my packmate liked it or not.

I slowed as I approached the ward, fearing the cruel cut of magic slicing through my body if I made a mistake. Any hesitation, however, meant I might lose her on the other side. So I took a chance, risked it all, and hopped through the opening in the barrier.

And landed neatly on the other side. Stunned, I staggered to the shade of a young cedar, hiding beneath its boughs to collect myself.

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