Page 18 of Guarded By the Reaper

I helped Millie into the car. It felt awkward – this small act of courtesy. But she seemed to appreciate it. Something about the way she smiled up at me – a flash of white teeth and grateful blue eyes – made me want to do things I never should. I shut the door behind her and rounded the car to the passenger’s side.

Getting into the car was like stuffing a corpse into a coffin. Not that I was speaking from personal experience. My cloak snagged on the door handle, and my scythe, which I insisted on keeping up front this time, dug into my ribs. I didn’t need to breathe, obviously, but I imagined it would have been damned uncomfortable if I did. Millie didn’t seem to notice my struggles, or if she did, she was polite enough not to comment. She had other things on her mind. Poppets, for one. And dying.

The drive to the pet hospital was strange. I’d been in cars before. Plenty of them. But this was different. This time, it wasn’t just about getting from point A to point B. This time, there was something else. A weird sort of anticipation. Dread, maybe.

When we arrived, the smell of disinfectant hit me like a punch to the gut. Memories, unwelcome and sharp, flickered at theedges of my consciousness. Hospitals. Battlefields. The stench of death clinging to everything. I shoved the memories down, where they belonged. It was odd they were getting to me now, in a pet hospital, when I was used to human hospitals thanks to my job. Today was a weird day.

The vet was a cheerful, round-faced woman with a shock of red hair and kind eyes. She reminded me of someone’s aunt, someone who’d bake cookies and tell stories about the good old days. Not that I knew anyone like that.

“And here she is, our little patient!” The vet held up a small, furry bundle.

Lady Mews, swathed in bandages and looking slightly dazed, blinked at us with green eyes. Her leg, which had been shattered by a car, was encased in a bright pink cast. It looked ridiculous, but cute, I had to admit.

Millie gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh, Lady Mews! Look at you!”

The sound that came out of the cat was a barely audible purr, and I felt something shift inside me. The surge of affection for a creature I was seeing for the first time surprised me. There was something about this cat, something about the relief on Millie’s face as she stroked Lady Mews’s head, that got to me. This wasn’t just any cat; any stray Millie had picked up on a whim. This was Elysia’s cat. And Elysia was Millie’s world. I understood why Millie was so desperate to save this animal. Elysia was going to lose her big sister soon, so she needed Lady Mews to be okay, at least.

“She’s doing remarkably well,” the vet was saying. “The surgery was a success. She’s putting weight on the leg already.”

“So, when can I take her home? Elysia misses her terribly.”

“Well,” the vet hesitated. “Another week here, just to be safe. Make sure there’s no infection.”

“A week?” Millie’s face fell.

The vet smiled. “I understand. It’s hard being away from a beloved pet. But trust me, it’s for the best. We’ll take good care of her here.”

“All right,” Millie said. “A week it is.”

“You can take her home for the second week of recovery. The cast will be off by then.”

The vet left us alone with the cat for a few minutes. Millie talked to Lady Mews in that high-pitched voice humans reserved for small, furry creatures, telling her all about Elysia and how much she was missed. I just watched and listened, the ghostly flutter in my chest growing. Watching her with the cat, seeing the love in her eyes, the fierce determination to shield Elysia from any more pain… It made me realize how much was at stake.

“We should get going.” The words came out harsher than I intended. “Don’t want your sister to be alone too long.”

Turning away from Lady Mews, Millie pulled her sunglasses from the top of her head and put them on. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Her voice was subdued, her smile gone. I opened the door for her, my cloak brushing against her arm. She didn’t flinch, and that made me feel hopeful, not a feeling I could say I was familiar with.

I felt it the moment we stepped outside. Something wasn’t right. The air, normally filled with the hum of traffic and distant sirens, was eerily silent. Even the birds had stopped singing. The parking lot, half-full when we’d arrived, was deserted. Not a single car, not a single soul in sight. Except for us.

And them.

Millie, oblivious to the lurking danger, walked towards her car, keys jingling in her hand.

“Millie, wait!”

It was too late. They were already here, materializing out of the shadows, three figures that looked grotesquely wrong. Poppets. They moved with unnatural speed, their limbsblurring, their eyes glowing. The raw hunger radiating from them was palpable, a tangible thing that made the air crackle with dark energy. I moved without thinking.

One moment, I was rooted to the spot, the next I was airborne, a blur of darkness against the blue sky. I landed between Millie and the Poppets, my cloak billowing around me. The straw creatures were upon us in a heartbeat, their movements jerky and disjointed, like dolls with their strings tangled. One lunged, its clay-caked fingers outstretched, reaching for Millie like she was a tasty morsel. I swung my scythe, its edge a silver arc in the sunlight. There was a sickening thud as the blade connected with the creature. The Poppet crumpled to the ground, a pile of straw and splintered clay.

“Get back!” I told Millie.

She stood frozen, her eyes wide with terror, the car keys slipping from her grasp. She didn’t need to see this. No one did.

The remaining two Poppets hesitated, startled. These things weren’t known for their intelligence, though, so they weren’t going to run. They were driven by Ma-Vasha’s will, fueled by a hunger that knew no bounds. And right now, Millie was their main course.

One of them, a spindly thing with straws poking out of its clay face, let out a hiss. Not a human sound, not by a long shot. It was the sound of something old and hungry. The creature lurched forward, its movements disjointed. I didn’t give it time to get close. I stepped forward, my scythe a silver blur, and took its head clean off. The body crumpled, a pathetic heap of straw and dried herbs, the head rolling to a stop at Millie’s feet. Its single eye, a shard of obsidian pressed into the clay, stared up at her with an unnervingly lifelike intensity.

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