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“A good reputation is easiest to maintain when part of the business is both legal and public,” said Gerald.

“Whatever, old man,” said Roman. “Vincent’s the only one of us who really needs a legitimate business.”

“A certain degree of independence is also important. But I don’t expect a thief to understand a businessman’s thinking.”

Geoffrey despised listening to this drivel. None of it was of any concern to him. Eyeing the reapers again, he wondered why none of them ever said anything. Perhaps they were hiding their voices from each other for some reason. Or from him. Unlike their human associates, the reapers seemed particularly wary of his presence, which pleased him to no end.

The people kept talking, but Geoffrey had ceased paying attention. Instead, he made a game of staring at the reapers, trying to see just how unsettled he could make them. His game came to an abrupt end, however, as Roman grabbed him by the neck and pinned him to the floor.

“My friend doesn’t like you,” said Roman. “And I’m inclined to agree with her.”

“Stop,” said Vincent. “The Rofal boy is my guest.”

“This thing isn’t even human,” said Roman. “I don’t see a reason to let it live.” Roman’s fingers dug through the red shadow and reached Geoffrey’s skin.

His neck started to burn. The man’s hand felt like acid against his flesh. Geoffrey cringed in real agony. But after a moment, he began to laugh. “You can actually hurt me!” he said, eyes widening eagerly. “Aha! More!”

Roman obliged, and Geoffrey’s laughter turned to coughing.

Vincent stepped closer but did not intervene. “It’s true that he requires discipline, but he could be a useful pet. And we can use him to leverage the Rofals for support. Killing him would certainly burn that bridge.”