All Chapters of The Reaper's Pet : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Although I’m away from the band rehearsal studio, I’m still psychically connected to Septimus. It’s like having a baby monitor in the back of your skull. There’s occasionally some signal interference but you’re lulled into a false sense of comfort. For instance, I’m aware that Septimus is playing the electric guitar and performing in front of the starstruck Rina. {“Holy shit”} is the thought that keeps recurring in her head. Holy shit is right because, even though I myself failed to see it, it’s possible that Septimus is a music prodigy; that or just a hardcore OG metalhead. The promised one song has stretched into an entire repertoire because of Rina’s endless cry of “Encore!” Septimus is going through my Eve Serrated covers setlist, which is the same playlist that served as the acoustic backdrop of our lessons in Soul City, plus a slew of other songs from bands I didn’t think he knew: Scorpions, Dio, Twisted Sister, Motley Crue, Metallica, Slayer… As it is with most cover band m

Everything becomes so mesmerizing it’s hard to tell if they’re actually taking place. Chester rises in a fluid and graceful movement but, in reality, his body’s cutting through time like a hot knife sliding through butter. The whole place, the small universe of the band rehearsal studio – from the twitchy second hand of a wall clock to the dog-ears of facial tissues pressed in a holder as they’re cowed by the ceiling fan – all these freeze in mid-action. Or not so much freeze as slow down into a clotted tempo. Rina’s facing forward on the sofa now, stark naked and sitting primly like a very realistic wax sculpture except for her eyes, which glimmer with awareness and concentration. It’s like an isolated object (Chester) is moving at hyper-speed while leaving the rest of the room behind. Like a character in dreamland doing away with the line between point A and B while the sleeper’s mind fills in the gap. The effect is both spell-binding and dizzying. One moment Rina’s sitting on his

“Come on,” one of the muggers coos in the local language, so close to Rina’s face her senses are invaded by the sight of rotten teeth and the smell of sour milk mixed with cigarette. “Give us what we want, doll, and we’ll be outta your hair.” “Yeah,” whispers another with pupils dilated by lust and methamphetamine. “We’ll be outta here before you know it. You won’t even notice we were here.” “You have my bag, my watch, my phone,” Rina says in English through her tears. She hates herself for being this afraid. She’s just so damn afraid. “Take all of them. Just please let me go.” “You know what else we want,” the nearest one coos again and a third leers. The one who has her, apparently the leader, starts groping her. “No, please don’t…” They’re all perfectly oblivious to the swarm of weird, shape-shifting Ravens overhead, so thick now that they blot out the night sky and the top of the two rundown tenements sandwiching the half-lit and desolate street. The birds of Hell are mak

The projected Transmigration Bureau agents charge and scatter the Ravens attacking close to the ground. Kera either slashes them apart with her overgrown talons or bites them in half with her fangs. Ankou throws a barrage of acidic blood-balls just like a rapid pitching machine. And Yama Ranger, on his creepy steed Nightmare, blasts away with his two six-shooters, a lever-action carbine in his third hand and his portal-opening lasso in his fourth. A second group of rescuers arrives at the scene. A few residents from the tenements round the corner and approach with caution not because of the invisible battle taking place right on top of them but at the sight of both Chester and Rina lying on the ground, the first bathed in his own blood and the second having fainted in terror. The gang leader responsible for everything stands transfixed above the bodies. The act of killing a man with his bare hands has finally registered with him and he flounders like a stage volunteer cut off from a h

Everything fades into regular, high-pitched beeping. I open my eyes to the disorienting sight of tubes snaking from my body. {Where in God’s name am I?} I sit bolt upright and tear some of the tubes off my chest. This starts a rapid alarm from the machinery next to the bed I’m lying on. {Sol’s at the park,} I remember vaguely. {No, that can’t be right. Sol’s visiting me…} {…at the beach house…} All the memories of the past week come flooding back; a literal information overload. The surrealism of my experiences strains my grip on reality and triggers an alarm on the EKG monitor. But thankfully, incredibly, my brain succeeds in reducing everything to a manageable size. Nurses rush into the room with their mouths hanging open. “I know everything,” I whisper to myself. “I know who I am now.” **** The rebellion that spilled over to the surface world shall be known forevermore as the Battle of the Bolgias. A great number of Death’s loyal guards, the Helter-Skeltals, have shed ma