The Reaper

Chapter 6

Sunlight poured in through the partially shaded window causing me to cover my eyes and blink profusely. Quiet voices across the room softly floated into my ears, but it was near impossible to make out what they were saying. Sitting up, I looked around the unfamiliar space and took stock of my surroundings. What appeared to have once been a normal room was hurriedly set up as a makeshift hospital space.

The more I became aware of myself, the more details filtered through my brain. An incessant beeping alerted me to the heart monitor, and as I threw my legs off the bed to get up, a sharp pain in my hand stopped me from going much further. I looked down and noticed I was hooked up to an IV. I reached down and deftly removed the offending piece, throwing it to the ground before continuing on my way. As I neared the door, the voices began to steadily pitch up in volume.

Jesus f*ck! They have to be having a screaming match out there!

I reached out and yanked the door open forcefully, and silence reigned. I was immediately struck by a warm body, arms constricting painfully around my midsection. A sharp sob pulled me from a fight or flight reaction as I registered the quiet crying. I looked down and recognized Grace's beautiful blonde locks cascading across my chest and shoulders. I wrapped my arms tightly around her and squeezed back, sighing.

"Hey now..." I murmured softly, "what's with the tears, doc?"

"I-I... I thought you weren't going to make it," she whispered painfully.

I pushed her back and gently gripped her chin with my fingers, forcing her to look into my eyes, "I made a promise, didn't I? Hmm?"

She nodded fervently, tears streaming down her face.

"Besides," I said, grinning, "gonna take a whole lot more than a few bullet wounds to kill me."

"Oh, Grimme. A few bullet wounds?" her voice shooting up sharply, "the damage you sustained was far worse than a few measly bullet wounds. Would you like me to read your chart?" she asked sarcastically.

"May as well. I can see you are dying to have your 'I told you so' moment. Go on then!"

She sighed heavily while wrenching a heavy looking folder from the table nearby and flipped it open, "Bullet wound to bicep. Bullet wound to face. Bullet wound to back, entering left lung, exiting chest. Oblique fracture crossing zygomaticomaxillary suture, inferior orbital rim, and nasal bridge. Fractures littered over rib cage, both sides..." she looked up from the chart, making direct eye contact, "Shall I go on?"

"Uh... so, I got a little f*cked up then"

Her eyes widened, "'a little f*cked up!'" she screeched.

"Okay, okay," I said, throwing my hands up in surrender. "Maybe it was worse than a little, but hey! I'm not dead, right? How long was I out anyway?"

"Less than 48 hours. Shorter than the last time you ended up in a sh*tty situation. So, we can count our blessings there," she muttered.

"How much down time am I looking at, Doc? I got an appointment with Venza's boss in less than two weeks. Need to be in fighting shape," I said, turning to look at her again.

"You won't be fighting for a few days. You need to recuperate. I'm sure Marx would appreciate a check in with you, as well. She's in her study. I assume you know where that is?"

I rolled my eyes, "I'm sure I can find it."

I walked through the hall and made my way toward the large staircase as I maneuvered past several people as they milled about. I slid down the railing and landed lightly on my feet before heading toward the library. I could hear muffled voices behind the door and decided to knock instead of barging in.

The door opened swiftly and the beautiful face of Rohesia Marx greeted me, a sly smile gently tugging at her lips. I grinned back, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Missed your face, you hermit," I whispered.

"Missed yours too, snake."

"So, I was told to check in?" I asked quizzically.

"Yeah, we need to know everything that happened from the moment you first left New York all the way up to you passing out from blood loss in my driveway," she stated seriously.

******

Several hours later, Marx had mostly run out of questions, and we were slowly sipping on bourbon.

"Who do you think Venza's boss is? Why would they show up now?" she asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine, honestly. I haven't seen hide nor hair of Venza since your safe house got ambushed by his men. After I escaped his lab and went to you guys to try and help, he has been MIA. I'm not sure if he wanted to hide, or if this mysterious boss of his was punishing him for his failure."

"I mean, he may have failed at keeping you locked down, but his and Ozera's experiments were definitely successful on more than one person, myself included," she said quietly.

"Do you think his boss rebooted the Aesir program?"

"I wouldn't think so. After Venza saw that the serum worked on me, he pulled out of the program and handed all of it over to Ozera. Exodus and I took care of her and her team," she uttered, slight vitriol lacing her tone.

"Well, I'm not sure what the f*ck they are doing then," I hissed.

"This is gonna be an off the wall suggestion, but hear me out, yeah? Could it have something to do with your lineage?" she asked, uncertain. "I mean, you've been around for a long time. Killing for a long time. It would be nearly impossible to hide that kind of track record."

"Even if it was due to my lineage, I haven't ever met my family. I was raised by humans all my life, and as far as I am aware, I don't think I've ever met another child like me. A few immortals, sure, but those are a dime a dozen. Families like mine rarely leave their havens," I mumbled.

"Well, without any more information, I don't know what's happening. So, I say we just recoup for the next few days, and then try brainstorming with the rest of the group?" she asked.

"Sounds good," I said, standing up from my seat. "Thanks again for helping us out, Marx. Don't know what I'd do without you."

"Eww! Don't get emotional!" she laughed.

I left the library and headed toward the back door, slowly making my way outside. The deck was well built and beautifully maintained, and a large butterfly garden took over a large portion of the cleared backyard. A young sapling several yards away from the garden swayed in the wind. Upon closer inspection, the sapling seemed to have sustained prolonged burning at some point, its bark looking scarred.

Has to be from Marx when she first got here. I remember her talking about learning to control her powers.

The snap of a branch reverberated around me, and I quickly whipped around, dagger already drawn and pressed it against the neck of my assailant. Heavy breathing filled the silence, and I brought my eyes up the impossibly tall frame of none other than Abraham.

I dropped the blade from his neck and sighed, stepping away, "Sorry..."

His low chuckle vibrated through the air, and he put his hands up, "No harm, no foul. Good to see you too, Grimme."

"Didn't think you'd still be hanging around here. Figured you would have run off into the sunset looking for the next grand adventure," I mumbled, not making eye contact.

"Well," he breathed, "sunset seemed a little dull in comparison to the person that ran away."

I flinched, "that's not fair! You knew what this was. My stay here was temporary!"

He nodded, a forlorn expression contorting his sharp features, "I know.. I didn't mean- I- nevermind..."

My eyes widened as he moved to walk away, and my hand darted out to gently grasped his wrist, "hey! You don't have to run off. We can still hang out... but, uh. Maybe no talking right now, yeah?"

A soft smile played about the corners of his lips as he looked down at his wrist, "okay."

*****

The sunlight filtered through the canopy, marbling the ground below. The piercing chirps of birds bounced through the foliage. We walked in relative silence aside from a few short remarks about what had been happening recently. The quiet music of the forest worked to soothe my ragged mind, and I slowly began to close my eyes and smile lightly.

A soft stroke against my upper arm broke me from my reverie, and I glanced around, startled. Abraham stood a few feet away, a slight grimace staining his handsome face. The slight breeze ruffled his long white hair and wafted his distinct scent toward me.

"Sorry. Kinda zoned out there," I mused, smiling.

"All good, darlin'. Just needed to check. You've been stock still for the last ten minutes," he replied.

I looked up and noticed the sun had dropped dangerously low on the horizon, "sh*t! Grace is gonna kill me! Didn't realize how late it was. We should probably head back."

He grunted his reply and swiftly turned back into the direction of the house. The silence encompassed us as we briskly made our way back in the direction that we came. Just as we could start to make out the top of the house ahead, something began crashing through the underbrush several yards behind us. Abraham shoved me down by my shoulder, and put us into a crouching position.

He looked over at me and put his fingers to his lips. Suddenly, a deer burst through the underbrush and ran across our path, crashing through the forest. We both breathed a sigh of relief, and a giggle bubbled up from my throat. Before I knew it, I was doubled over, gripping my sides, laughing. His eyes softened as he began chuckling as well.

"Let's get back," he whispered, still chuckling.

******

We all sat around the dinner table in relative silence. The only noise was the utensils as they methodically scraped against plates. The lack of conversation and thick tension was enough to squeeze my insides, causing me to squirm in discomfort.

I cleared my throat, "So, Marx... about that theory you had earlier. I've had some time to turn it over, and I believe you may be onto something."

Everyone turned to look at her in surprise.

"What was this theory then, Ro? Had to be fairly interesting if The Reaper over there thinks it could be right," muttered one of the mutants that called this place home.

She gently placed her utensils down and dabbed her mouth lightly before looking around to make eye contact with everyone at the table, "well, I simply said maybe Venza and his cronies were after Grimme because of her lineage. She is quite old and has been doing her jobs for quite some time. I figured maybe she has big name family somewhere, and Venza's boss wants to abuse that."

Abraham turned to look at me, concern written in his features, "Grimme, who is your family?"

I squared my shoulders and took turns staring everyone present in the eye, "Know this. Until this day, I haven't dared to speak the names of my family for fear of the possible repercussions. So know that what I am about to tell you could cause unknown amounts of chaos. Is everyone here comfortable with this knowledge? If not, I ask that you step out of the house now so as not to be compromised."

Several of the guests immediately departed from the table and rushed from the room, leaving only Grace, Marx, Abraham, and myself. I pleaded with them with my eyes, "are you all sure?"

They all nodded resolutely, and Marx said, "I've made sure no one else was nearby to hear. Go on, my friend. Share with us this deepest of burdens."

I sighed heavily, dropping my eyes to the table, "it may not seem like such a huge deal to most, I'll admit, but I have been told from birth to never reveal who I was. So please know that what I am about to tell you has never fallen on the ears of anyone in centuries."

I took a huge breathe, the silence palpable and whispered, "I am the daughter of The Furies."

Everyone's gasps sounded so loud within the otherwise too quiet room. Fear coursed through me and prevented me from looking up from the table. Fear so strong I nearly felt like I was drowning.

How odd to be on the receiving end of my most potent gift. Fear. What a useful and damning tool.

"Well, I'll be d*mned. That explains so f*cking much!" exclaimed Grace.

I looked up, and everyone was staring at me: however, no one was looking at me with malice or fear, but understanding.

"Knowing this could certainly help us narrow down potential suspects for Venza's boss," muttered Abraham, "who would have the most cause to hate The Furies, anyway?"

Marx let out a tense chuckle, "literally anyone who was banished to Tartarus to be punished. The Furies were the t*rturers of the Underworld."

"Well, that doesn't help much then, does it?" I chuckled humorlessly.

"There has to be something that can point us in the right direction, Grimme. Think!" shouted Abraham.

"About what?" I screeched. "I never met them! I grew up in a human city! Raised by humans! They left me! Alone and abandoned!"

Everyone around the table fell silent, looking to one another with confusion. Marx stood, her hands up in a calming manner, "then how can you be sure of your parentage?"

I laughed again, pain ripping through my heart, "Let's just say, they left a f*cking calling card."

I stood from my seat and shredded my shirt from my torso, and an audible gasp circled the room as everyone took in the sight before them.

"I believe this is more than a sufficient stamp of proof, don't ya think?" I growled.

I gently, reverently, grazed my finger tips across the brand, the hieroglyph of The Furies, that scarred the entirety of my torso. The darkened scars were corded and standing in relief to my skin.

"How have we never seen that before? You were in surgery here. We've seen you in sportswear while you train..." Marx said, trailing off.

"Part of my power is altering reality, Marx. You know this. So, naturally, I altered what your brain saw," I muttered, "I simply changed the information. It isn't a complete catch-all, of course. I can't always hide myself."

Grace walked over, her fingers desperately reaching out for my left hand before grasping it firmly. She looked directly into my eyes, "this doesn't change who you are to us, but it can help us learn to protect you."

I ripped my hand away, backing up, "You can't protect me. Not from this... we don't know what we are up against, and all we can possibly base it on are stories that have been passed on through centuries."

"Okay. Then I say, we go to the source of the legends. I think it's time we took a little vacation to Greece," said Abraham with conviction. "I hear it is beautiful this time of year."

"He's right. We could easily find more information there. Many of their temples and monuments are still standing," said Marx, her mind reeling with different plans.

Grace smiled while pulling her jacket off and handing it to me, "I've always wanted to ride in an airplane."

I took the jacket and shrugged it on, "When do we take off?"

******

I've always hated airport travel. Too many bodies packed into a giant steel tube, like sardines stuffed in a can. Claustrophobic.

My eyes constantly moved around the cabin of the plane, taking in all of the visual information, keeping tabs on every movement. It always felt like I could never relax and had to stay on guard. Marx and Abraham sat a few rows behind us, and from the distinct, soft snoring, Marx had fallen asleep already.

Lucky b*tch

Grace sat in the window seat with her nose pressed firmly into the glass as she gazed wondrously out into the clouds as they floated by. I smiled lightly while watching her.

"Are you excited to see Greece?" I asked, grinning.

"I'd be even more excited if there wasn't a giant death clock counting down on us," she muttered, never turning from the window.

"Grace," I whispered, gently turning her to face me, "I never meant to drag you into this."

Her stoic expression faltered, and she threw herself into my arms, hugging me fiercely. She drew her face back and smiled gently, "you gave me my life, Grimme. I'm where I am because you decided I was worth saving. I'd face whatever comes our way if it means saving you back. We're family."

"Guess you really are stuck with me for the long haul then," I grinned.

She smiled back, "so, do you have any idea where we need to start looking when we get there?"

"I know exactly where to go, but there are a few spots I have to stop by first before we can go to the temple," I whispered softly.

"Oh, I know that look," she muttered with apprehension. "What are you planning on doing?"

"I have an old friend I need to deal with. He lives on the island, and if I don't deal with him first, we will never make it to where I was raised."

"Why do I have the feeling you are going to end up injured?"

I shrugged, turning to look at the faces of the people in the rows near us. "Let's just say, this visit is long overdue, and I don't think he will be all too thrilled when I show back up."

"Ugh, Grimme. I know that face! What did you do?" she whisper-yelled.

"Well," I murmured, fidgeting, "I, uhh... may have blown up a couple sacred relics before I left here a few centuries ago." I turned and looked at her again, "probably still mad, right?"

She scoffed, "probably."

The rest of the ride passed in relative silence as my nerves began to amp up as we began our descent. A thick, queasy feeling was trilling through my entire body as I fought for control of myself. Over the last week, I had slowly begun to lose control of my power as the nightmares terrorized my every waking moment. There were instances when I would be transported back into those memories, everything feeling so incredibly real, I almost lost who I was.

The sinking realization that I would be hard pressed to win the battles ahead, I worried for the safety of my little group, and as I looked around at their faces, determination steeled my resolve.

I have to end this. For them.