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Chapter 32: Fracture

Chapter 32: Fracture

The eastern district lay several streets beyond the collapsed Beacon, where the buildings thinned and the remains of the Bastion’s outer wall began to rise above the ruins.

Voss had sent five members of the Last Watch with them. Two carried coils of grave-thread across their shoulders, while the others had divided the iron stakes, hooks, and thunder charges among several heavy packs. None appeared particularly pleased about joining the hunt, but no one had refused while Voss was watching.

Mara walked beside Rook, keeping her voice low enough that the others would have difficulty hearing her. "This Fourth Rank..." She glanced at the weapons hanging from the coffin. "You fought one before?"

"More like ran with my tail between my legs."

Voss, walking several paces behind them, gave a short laugh. "He fought some. Even survived a Sixth Rank once. That’s why people started calling him Rook. Cuz he’s sturdy."

Rook looked over one shoulder. "Be quiet, will you?"

"You’re not the boss of me."

Voss quickened his pace until he was walking along Mara’s other side. The cowl still concealed most of his face, though there was no missing the amusement in his voice. "Bastard was torn to pieces and still got back up," he continued. "Kept fighting while he was in Fracture."

Mara frowned. "What is Fracture? It sounds dangerous."

One of the younger Reapers following them gave a disbelieving grunt. "She must be really new."

Rook looked back at him. The Reaper’s attention had already settled upon Mara in a way Rook disliked. His gaze moved over her unwounded skin, the clean memories still holding her body together, and the pale chain connecting her to Rook.

Without slowing, Rook pulled one of the daggers from the side of the coffin. He rolled it once across the back of his hand, caught the handle, and returned it to its sheath.

The young Reaper immediately looked away.

Voss watched the exchange and shook his head. "The kid is new. Don’t mind him. As long as she’s with you, no one here is touching her."

"That sounds less reassuring when it comes from you," Mara said. She waited until the younger Reaper had fallen farther behind before returning her attention to Rook. "What is Fracture?"

Voss answered before Rook could avoid the question. "It happens when you lose too many memories at once. You reach the brink of complete loss, but there’s still enough of you left to keep the body moving. You can’t remember your life, the people you knew, or why you’re standing where you are. Sometimes you lose your skills. Sometimes language. If it gets bad enough, even your own name disappears."

"So you become dead? An empty body??"

"Almost. A dead body has nothing left. Someone in Fracture is a standing husk waiting for the final piece to fall away." Voss pointed toward Rook. "This bastard kept fighting when he didn’t even know his own name."

Mara studied Rook’s face, but he continued along the broken road without reacting, his lantern held beside one leg while its blue light passed over the surrounding ruins. "So you had another name?" she asked.

Rook did not answer.

Voss laughed beneath his cowl. "If he did, he isn’t telling anyone."

Mara waited, but Rook’s silence offered nothing. She glanced instead at the coffin rising behind him. "Then how did you get your memories back? At least the ones the Sixth Rank took."

"I didn’t."

"Hard to imagine that when you clearly remember the fight." Mara said.

"Wasn’t able to kill it." Rook stepped over the remains of a fallen pillar. "I survived long enough for her to appear."

His gaze shifted briefly toward Voss, and the other Reaper scoffed.

Mara noticed. "Based on that reaction, I assume we’re talking about the Manager of the Eleventh."

"She’s a demon wearing human skin," Voss said. "Fucking creeps me out more than this guy does."

"Is she that ugly?"

"Ugly?" Voss turned toward Mara. "No. Far prettier than you, if I’m being honest."

Mara stared at him. "Wow. That’s rude."

"Trust me, beauty here isn’t only about someone’s face. It’s about their skills too. How they move. How well their body holds together. What they can do with what death left them."

Rook glanced at him. "First reasonable thing you’ve ever said."

"Yeah," Voss admitted. "Doesn’t make her any less frightening. A rose with thorns like hers is something you admire from a distance. I’ve never seen another expression on that woman’s face. Thousands of years in the Underworld, and she’s always smiling."

"Perhaps she’s happy."

"No one is that happy."

One of the Reapers behind them gave a quiet murmur of agreement. Whatever reputation the Manager possessed had apparently travelled well beyond the Eleventh.

Mara considered what Rook had told her earlier. The woman had left the Bastion, Culled an Eighth Rank, and returned in less than two minutes. Most of that time had supposedly been spent walking. "What’s her ability?" she asked.

"Don’t ever ask that again if you want to stay alive," Rook said.

Mara looked at him. There was no humor in his voice. "You must have seen it. You said you met her."

"I’ve met her a few times. One was when she saved my Fractured ass from the Sixth Rank. Another was when she went out to deal with the Eighth."

"And you saw nothing?"

"Both times, I saw her leave. Both times, I saw what was left afterward. I never saw her use her ability." Rook’s gaze remained fixed upon the road. "No one in the Eleventh knows what she can do."

"That’s impossible. She has been there for thousands of years."

"Then find someone willing to spy on her."

Mara looked toward Voss. "But everyone knows she’s terrifying."

"That’s the only thing they need to know," he said.

The path narrowed between the remains of two defensive structures. Large grooves had been carved across the stone, some fresh enough that broken fragments still covered the ground. Rook crouched briefly beside one of them and ran his fingers along the edge.

Voss waited until he stood before continuing. "You think I’m exaggerating about her?" he asked Mara.

She gave him an expectant look, to explain more.

"The day I ran away from the Eleventh, I reached the gate without anyone stopping me. I was only a few steps from freedom when I saw her returning from a hunt. That moment, was the scariest I’ve ever been in my death..."