Page 43 of The Reaper's Vice

Jake balks, his eyes widening on the glinting blade of the dagger. “W-who? What are you talking about?”

I roll my eyes. “Seraphina Valez. You fucked her. You know what she likes when she’s being fucked. I want you to tell me.”

He shakes his head, his pupils blowing. “I don’t… I don’t?—”

“Tell me, or I’ll slit your throat now.” I twirl my dagger between my fingers, the glint in my eyes telling him I speak the truth.

He gulps, looking off to the side. “Seraphina… yeah, yeah, I remember her. She’s Ivan’s girl.”

“Wrong answer.”I rush forward, pressing the edge of the blade to his neck and drawing pearls of blood to the surface of his pale skin. He gulps, raising shaky hands into the air.

“I-I’m sorry, man. I don’t know what you want from me. Ivan just told me he wanted to watch a few buddies fuck his girl. That’s all.”

His girl.The words echo through my mind, scraping the inside of my skull and filling me with enough rage to flood the fucking ocean. “What does she like,Jake? I’m not going to ask again.”

His throat bobs as he looks toward the closed door at my back, a silent plea for someone to burst in and save him.But no one will.

“Answer me!”I dig the blade deeper into his Adam’s apple.

“Fuck, I don’t know!” His chest rises and falls rapidly. “She… she liked when I bit her neck, I think. Oh, and there’s this little spot at the back of her ass that she justloves?—”

I drag my blade across his neck, a wet gurgling noise filling the air as Jake chokes on his own blood. He slumps to the floor with wide eyes, crimson pouring through the hands grasping at his neck. I spit, the taste of bile heavy in the back of my throat as I watch the life leave this square piece of shit.

“Too much detail.” I ram the blade through his right eye as rage crests in my veins. All the adrenaline leaves me as his body slumps to the floor, his mouth gaping and eyes glassy.Fuck. Too quick.

A growl rumbles through my chest as I yank the blade from his head, and I slash wildly at his face and torso, desperate to get rid of some of the bloodlust running through my veins. I hack and slice until his skin hangs from his bones in oozing strands, until his eyes are pulverized and his lips spread back to bare disgusting yellow teeth.

I carve his heart from his chest last. I leave it, warm and oozing in the palms of his hands like a gift. An offering to the gods above—the only ones who listen anymore.The gods of death.

I take one last look at my masterpiece—at the oozing heap that was once Jack Robinson—and a manic smile spreads my lips.

Two down, three to go.

19

SERAPHINA

“MONSTER IN THE CLOSET”

The golden sunis sinking past the horizon by the time I make it to Maggie’s and my apartment. The bruised sky casts elongated shadows across the pavement as I walk toward the door, a searing pain shooting up my calves with each step.

It took several hours just to walk back to the place I had left my bike, then another two to patch it up enough to make it rideable. My entire body is spent, and all I want now is a hug from Maggie and a long, hot shower.

As soon as I push open the door, I’m awarded with the first of my wishes.

“Nina!” Maggie cheers, cutting off my oxygen as her arms tighten around my neck. “I’m so glad you’re home! I was watching the news and they… they found another body!.” She pulls back, her brows creasing as she takes in my sad state. “What happened? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Images of a man in a plague mask flash in my mind. “I crashed my bike last night—I’mfine,before you start freaking out,” I say. “It was just a bitch and a half to get it running again. I’ll be fine after a hot shower.”And possibly a lobotomy.

Maggie narrows her eyes but still steps back, allowing me inside. I gaze around the apartment, noting the thick layer of dust coating each surface. The coffee I picked up for Maggie the other day is still sitting on the counter untouched, causing a well of worry to open up in the pit of my stomach.

“Anything happen while I was gone?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light. “See any good stuff on TV? Besides the dead body, I mean”

Maggie shakes her head, gazing forlornly toward the uncharacteristically silent screen. “Does it matter? I’ll never see any of it in person.”

Thoughts of a shower are dashed from my mind as I take in Maggie’s expression—noticing for the first time how dim her aura has become. Instead of her usual vibrant pink, the light pulsing from her shoulders has dulled to a pale, dying hue.

“That’s not true, Magoo. We’ll see them one day, I promise?—”

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