PE uniform, check. Long leather boots, check. Leather wristbands, check. Black, cartoony cloak, check. Scythe, check. Pixie, check.
I was ready to reap.
Monday. A fresh new week, a fresh new start. All the students gathered in the inner courtyard to wait for their mentors. I was with the VDC, GC and Paz glued to my sides. They didn’t want to let me go, and I didn’t want that, either. Two whole months of being apart. The thought made me slightly sick to my stomach. My bladder started doing that thing I hated when it was trying to convince me I needed to pee. I didn’t. I don’t need to pee, I don’t need to pee. My new mantra.
I was nervous. I’d skipped the year one practice, so I was way behind my classmates. Was Valentine going to go easy on me because I was his daughter? Was he going to go hard on me because I was his daughter? He was so unpredictable that I’d stopped guessing a long time ago. Or tried to, at least. What had I missed? GC and Pazuzu hadn’t told me much. Last year, practice had been all about assisting and not doing any actual reaping. They’d shadowed their mentors and taken notes on their methods, techniques, and how they adapted to difficult cases. GC had been in Valentine’s group, and he said my father had one hell of a work ethic. He was emotionally detached from the violent circumstances he had to reap in, compassionate when needed, cold when it served him better. He didn’t talk much, didn’t preach, and didn’t give advice. His students had to figure out what to keep and what to leave themselves, because Valentine never told them what notes to take. If he, indeed, was like that, I was on board with his mentoring method. Like father, like daughter, and all that.
The twenty-two Grim Reapers materialized in clouds of black smoke.
“Their cloaks do that,” GC whispered in my ear. “This year, we’re going to learn how to teleport like that, too. Last year, they teleported us.”
Cool. I didn’t miss that. I was good.
The smoke cleared and the women and men stepped forward, their black cloaks magically whooshing behind them for added effect, their scythes glowing faintly. They looked impressive, I had to admit. The ones who had wings wore them spread wide on their backs. Morningstar was one of them. His wings were tall, reaching two inches above his head, but not as long as those of an angel. When he tucked them down his back, they didn’t touch the ground, like Sariel’s did. After all, he was only half-angel, and it had to show somehow.
He came over to me, kissed me on the forehead, and looked for the others in his group of students. GC and Paz joined their own group. Their mentor was a beautiful sphinx lady. I waved at them and mouthed “I’ll miss you.”
“Ready, daughter? Nervous?”
“A little.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll catch up in no time. Though I’m still not happy you skipped practice last year. You’ll have to work extra hard.”
“I will, I promise.”
He smiled down at me and pinched my chin playfully. “My good girl.”
I winced. I’m not a damn puppy.
“You’re not taking your pixie with you.”
My heart sank. “Why not?”
“Reaping is a reaper’s business. No pixies allowed.”
“But she won’t tell anyone a word.”
“It’s okay, Mistress. You can send me away.”
“I’m not sending you away,” I growled.
Morningstar shot me an impatient look. Sariel, Francis, and Merrit had joined us, and it was time to go. The other Grim Reapers had already showed their students how to teleport, and they were zapping away one by one.
“Mila, we don’t have time for this. You have one second to figure it out.”
“She’ll be trapped in the Blank for two months,” I whined. Not that I believed whining worked on him.
“So?”
“I don’t want her to be caged and alone.”
“She’s a pixie, Mila.”
This wasn’t helping. I wasn’t going to change his opinion about pixie slavery in the next five minutes, so I needed to find a better way to make sure Corri was safe while I was gone.
“Can I leave her with someone?”
“She’s not a pet.”