Scythe Does Matter

us a bit, then order us to do something strenuous. After that he’d give us a grudging compliment. I felt like I was watching a M*A*S*H-up of every military-themed movie I’d ever watched: An Officer and a Gentleman meets Private Benjamin and G.I. Jane while wearing Stripes. That didn’t make the physical training any easier, but it kept me entertained.

I wondered what could be the point of physical conditioning since we didn’t really have bodies anymore. But we definitely had muscle memory, and mine remembered strain and pain and how much it hurt to work out.

And yet, by the end of the second week, I began to notice that I was shaping up rather nicely. No wonder Dante had such a stunning body under that robe; Schotz’s training worked better than any gym I’d ever joined. (Notice I specified “joined,” not “regularly worked out at.”)

My colleagues were also developing lean muscle mass. Kali now sported both a six-pack and six rock-hard biceps. Even Ira’s wings bulked up. We’d all given up the pretense that we didn’t know he was an angel. You may be able to hide your light under a bushel but you can’t hide your wings under a tank top.

Schotz also devised mock soul runs. He’d divide up the class into Souls and Reapers and then the Souls would have a few minutes to hide or run, at which point their assigned Reapers would have to find them and haul them in. In other words, we played hide-and-seek.

It would have been more fun if Aunt Carey’s life and my entire future weren’t resting on the outcome.

Eventually, the day of the final test arrived. Sergeant Schotz unrolled a rough map of the woods clipping it to the rolling whiteboard at the front of the tent. Using a Magic Marker—and by the way, they aren’t really magic, even in Hell—Dante carefully dabbed five little red dots at intervals around the map.

“This is your assignment.” The Sergeant rapped a knuckle on the board and began pacing in front of the map. The entire class leaned right to see the board, then left, then right again as his pacing obscured first one side of the board, then the other. Finally, he stopped pacing, now completely blocking our view of the map. “You will locate each of these five checkpoints.” He rapped the board again, harder this time. Dante grabbed the edge of the board as it wobbled on the uneven ground, threatening to topple over and take our instructional map with it. The sergeant didn’t seem to notice.

Schotz picked up the marker and turned to face us. “At each station, you will acquire an item to prove you were there.” He stabbed the air with his marker. I flinched even though he was three or four feet away. He just had that effect on people.

Yes, I was sitting on a front rock. Like M’Kimbi, I was a suck-up now, too. My aunt’s life depended on it.

“If you do not acquire at least four of the five tokens, you will not only fail this test, but you will also fail the entire course. You will fail to enter the Reaper Corps. You will not now, nor ever, become a Reaper.”

Amber raised her hand tentatively.

“You will not be allowed to repeat the course.”

Amber lowered her hand again.

“Now, to make things a little more interesting, there are seven candidates here today, but only six of each item at each station. Not only must you get to each checkpoint, but you must not be the last to arrive. The recruit who obtains the least number of tokens is history.” He sliced the marker across his throat in illustration. He’d removed the cap earlier, so, whether deliberately or accidentally, he inscribed a thin red line across his own neck. I got the picture. “Any questions?”

“What are the tokens?” Ira asked, his beatific features drawn and pale.

Good question. Maybe they were items we could obtain some other way.

Annoyed that anybody actually had a question to ask, Schotz spat, “Each of you idjits must bring me the feathers of a seagull, a crow and a vulture. A whisker from a catfish. And a hair of a hyena.”

“Great,” Kali muttered. “A scavenger hunt featuring real scavengers.”

Ignoring my friend’s comment, I did a mental calculation: seven students, six each of five items, that’s . . . My eyes crossed and I bit my tongue. That’s, uh, not enough. Somebody wasn’t going to graduate. I bit my tongue harder, vowing it wouldn’t be me.

“Lastly, it’s every man, woman and whatever for themselves. No partnering up. No helping each other. One man is an island. Got it?”

Oh, skeg. He’d not only forbidden cooperation but he’d encouraged competition. If someone got more tokens than they needed, would they share with the less fortunate? Would they fail for doing so?

“So you all know your assignment, then.” His eyes darted from face to face, inviting exactly zero questions this time.

“Sir! Yes, sir!” we shouted in unison.

I gulped, surveying my classmates. A god, an angel, a smart young woman with total recall, two smart men. Me. Rod. How the skeg was I going to accomplish this? Who was going to lose? Rod glared at me. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Oh, wait. I almost forgot.” The sergeant grinned in a predatory manner, which suggested that he hadn’t forgotten anything at all. “I’ve also hidden a crystal skull in a secret location. The person who finds it graduates head of the class.” He giggled. Actually giggled! Sadistic skegger. “Get it? Skull? Head? And no skullduggery! Bwahahaha!”

He sounded insane, except I would have made the same joke.

M’Kimbi raised his hand. He was either very brave or very . . . no, he was very brave. “Question, sir.”

Sergeant Schotz scowled. M’Kimbi had spoiled his big finish. “What is it?”

M’Kimbi pointed toward the map, staying well out of the reach of the sergeant’s Magic Marker. “I would like to inquire what the large black section at the center of the forest is, sir.”

“That is a government-restricted facility. You just stay away from that. You hear me? Under no circumstances are any of you to go anywhere near that black hole. You could be charged. You could end up doin’ time.”

The rest of the group looked terrified and confused. Only I knew what lay within the restricted area. I’d wandered into it before by accident and despite my friendship with Lord Seiko, I didn’t plan on dropping in unannounced again.

Chapter 8 Doesn’t Prey Well with Others

AS SOON AS we were out of sight among the trees, Kali, Amber and I hooked up and made plans. We convinced one another that this, too, was part of the test—to ignore his edict forbidding collaboration and immediately partner up. After all, once we were on the job, we wouldn’t turn each other away when we requested help, right? Right? And if the sergeant had really wanted us to work independently, he would have taken away our phones.

Amber, of course, had the map memorized, so it was her job to keep us on track to each of the five token stations. Kali and I would have our eyes on the ground looking for dropped feathers. We doubted we’d find a hyena or a catfish, but maybe we could beat the odds by adding to the supply of tokens.

“You’re a god, Kali. Can’t you just conjure them up?” Amber asked.

“Sadly, no,” she replied. “I’m much better at making things go away. Death and destruction, remember?”

One of my earrings plopped at my feet.

“And earring backs. Sorry.”

Amber nodded. She had turned out to be pretty cool once she’d been stripped of her friends. She was even letting her dyed hair grow out. Thanks to the weirdness of time, it was now black with yellow paintbrush-tip ends drifting around her shoulders. I liked it.

“We need to split up. Let’s each take a checkpoint, grab three of the tokens and call in.”

“That’s great for you, Amber. But how do Kali and I find our checkpoints?”