None were strong enough to take me down, that much was obvious. And there was enough anger between them to make such a duel enticing to them. They obviously needed an outlet, and they wanted violence to blow off steam. I imagined the Ghoul Reapers had grown bored in this world. Its civilization had perished ages ago. They were probably tired of each other’s company too. My presence was something new.
What are you doing? Tristan asked telepathically.
Keeping them entertained, I replied. We need to establish a rapport, to gain some goodwill from these wretches. They’re furious and miserable, and I cannot talk to Death about them, not without destroying this entire operation. I’m buying us time. If I get access to the book, at least I can read from it and maybe get closer to the truth. They’re too unstable to cooperate otherwise.
Just… be careful, he said, sighing.
Eneas chuckled. “You mean to fight one of us?”
“Did I not make myself clear?” I replied, raising my chin.
“And in return, you wish to be allowed inside the Temple of Roses, so that you may read the World Crusher’s book,” Eneas said. His brothers were intrigued. At least two of them were fidgeting, eager to take me on. I’d piqued their interest.
I nodded once. “Assuming, of course, there’s a tale to be read in those pages?”
“Yes. Or so Death said. We’re not allowed anywhere near the damn book,” Filicore replied. “We’ve been true to our orders, in spite of what it has cost us. That has to count for something. Remember it when you address our issue with Death.”
This meant they knew nothing about the seals that held the World Crusher down. They’d only fashioned charms and spells of their own to protect the Temple of Roses and to prevent the true first Reaper’s rage from infecting and… well, crushing this world. They had failed, but they had stayed true to their orders. They’d tried. And in return, they’d lost their souls.
“Fine then,” Eneas said. “One of us will engage in a duel. But not against you.”
Chills spread through me. “What do you mean?”
“I’m the champion among my brothers,” Hadras stated. “And I challenge your vampire husband.”
“That’s not right. Tristan isn’t equipped to fight you. He’s not even a Reaper,” I snapped, the frost gripping me by the back of my neck and stiffening my spine. This wasn’t where I’d imagined the conversation going.
Eneas shrugged, slightly amused. “Tough, then. It’s the only way we’ll give you access to the book. It’s either that, or you walk away, right now, and never return.”
“But if you comply, we’ll know you’re true to your word,” Hadras added. “We’ll know you actually intend to speak to Death about us.”
That didn’t make much sense to me, but it did to them, and they were the ones calling the shots here. It was their magic that stopped anyone, alive or otherwise, from setting foot inside the Temple of Roses. I could’ve approached things differently and gone behind the Ghoul Reapers’ backs, but we only had three days to complete the trial. Three days to get to the truth. It wasn’t much time.
“Hadras will fight Tristan. If Tristan wins, you will gain access to the book of the World Crusher,” Eneas reiterated. “But you will not leave this place until you ask Death to release us. Regardless of her answer, you will not leave this place until you set us free. Am I clear? It is the only way I will allow you to lay eyes upon the book.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” I muttered, understanding the complex consequences that the statement entailed. Warring against the Ghoul Reapers was the last thing I wanted. We had enough on our plates already, so I calculated that treading carefully and jumping through their hoops was the better of the available options.
Tristan reached out telepathically. Let me do it. I can hold a scythe now, remember?
And we had yet to learn why. Death hadn’t said much on the topic, and this certainly wasn’t the right time to bring it up again. But my husband had a point. He could wield my weapon, and he’d delivered quite the injury to Joy not that long ago. The Ghoul Reapers didn’t know that.
“And if Tristan loses?” I asked Eneas, my gaze wandering back to Hadras. He was slightly taller than his brothers. Perhaps bigger, too, at least in muscle mass. He was still lean and agile, but he carried himself with a certain weight. The air of a champion.
“He dies. I reap him. And we’ll end it there,” Eneas replied dryly. “If you’re to be left a widow, I doubt you’ll wish to help us with Death.”
“And you’re willing to sacrifice that opportunity just for the sake of killing my husband?” I asked, trying to make sense of what was obviously no more than bloodthirsty madness. They’d been here for so long—unsupervised, chaotic, and utterly out of their minds—that this arrangement only made sense for them. But if I was to gain access to the damned book, I’d have to play along. My husband, my soulmate, my eternal love would have to play along.
“What else have we got left?” Fileas replied.
Best to keep things simple. I would trust my husband—he had never steered me wrong. Tristan gave me a smile, quietly reading my mind. He stepped forward and addressed the Ghoul Reapers’ champion. “I’ll take you on, Hadras. I may not be able to kill you, but perhaps I will make you yield.”
“Let’s see what happens,” Hadras chuckled, delighted. “I won’t end you too quickly, I promise. I will give you the opportunity to fight. It’s been a long time since I’ve dueled someone, so I want this to last.”
My heart swelled as I looked at my husband, his loving eyes peering into my weary soul. He reached out a hand, and
