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Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a gruff but familiar voice outside of my door.
Rome.
I sat up in bed and craned my neck to listen, but the words were muffled.
Another voice replied, hushed and furtive.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped out of bed and silently padded to the door to hear the conversation better.
“It’s been five years since the big guy picked a new Reaper. I thought the roster was full.” Someone whined. “I want to know who he picked. Why won’t you tell me?”
“It’s none of your business,” Rome replied. The tinge of a Russian accent was recognizable.
“Do you think Charon has an ulterior motive?” The stranger replied. “Dozens of the Devils cast-offs came through HQ last year, but none of them made Reaper. How is Maddox dealing with this?”
“He is annoyed. Understandably.” Rome replied dryly. “Do you have the Gorge?”
“Why doyouwant Gorge?” I recognized Todd’s voice. “If Maddox Pierce catches me selling to you, he’ll gut me.”
Rome scoffed. “If we are going to start poking our noses into each other’s business, why don’t you tell me why Mr. Bub is filling Vegas with Purgers.” He stately plainly, though I had no idea what the words meant. “Out of anyone here, you’re the only one who could begin to know what Mr. Bub’s motives are for doing what he does. The fact you don’t know is concerning.”
“What does that have to do with Gorge?” Todd replied.
Rome clicked his tongue in that annoying way of his. “I’m trying to work that out.” He sniffed. “You met our newest recruit. Did you approve? I saw you taking her away to the corner. Were you trading notes on how best to spy on us?”
“Rome,” Todd whined. “You know it's not like that.”
Rome laughed, but the sound was ice cold. “I don’t have a problem with you, Todd, but you need to leave that girl alone.” Rome warned. “We don’t need Charon breathing down our necks, and he made it very clear that this one is to be protected. Not that any of us know why.”
“Maddox already warned me.” Todd griped.
“Well, now I’m warning you too,demon.” Rome spat.
Chapter 6
I knew I was dreaming because I stood in the clearing of a lush forest. Surrounding by thick evergreens and luscious greenery as far as the eye could see.
Nevada didn’t do green unless you counted manicured lawns and cacti.
I looked up, searching for the sky, and only found more leaves. A thick canopy that blocked out the sun.
I looked down at my hands. Thin and fragile fingers, with short nails—hands that did not belong to me.
I knew it was a dream, in that natural way that most people could recognize a dream when they were in it—that knowledge didn’t alleviate the sense of unease that made my stomach clench as if there was a fist wrapped around it.
Quickly, too quickly to be natural, the trees shed their leaves.
The leaves curled and died on the branches instead of drifting lazily to the forest floor. The scent of rot and sweet decay filled the air like cloying smoke.
I couldn’t breathe.
All around me, the forest began to rot and die. Eaten by decay and swallowed whole by whatever creature drained the life of the forest.
I heard a howl in the distance.
Thumping footsteps echoing against the soft bracken.
I tried to run.
