Page 48 of The Reaper's Vice

“I’m going to hang up if you don’t say something.”

Still nothing.

I sigh, about to pull the phone from my ear when the bone-chilling voice shakes from the speakers.

“There’s a monster under the bed.”

I hang up so fast my thumb cramps. Swallowing hard, I back up from the closet, not even realizing when my calves hit the bed frame. And then I’m reminded what the creepy voice said—that there’s a monster beneath the bed.

I cringe, holding on to my dagger for dear life as I wait for a pair of hands to reach out and snatch my ankles. When nothing happens, I crouch down, every cell in my body screaming that I definitely, under no circumstances, want to look under the bed.

My breathing picks up pace as I press my cheek to the floor, searching the shadows for anything out of place. At first, I don’t see anything.

But then my eyes adjust to the dark, and I see him.

The man in the plague mask.

I’m too shocked to move for a moment. He’s not doing anything—just lying on his stomach, chin resting comfortably on interwoven fingers—staringat me. If I wasn’t so damn terrified, I might describe the sight as adorable. But I am, and it’s not—not when I don’t knowwhothis is or what their intentions are.

Gaining my bearings, I rush forward with my dagger, aiming where the intruder's artery should be. Somehow, he anticipates the attack and moves back just in time. The blade swipes the air, and I fall forward onto my face with the force of my attack, giving the intruder several precious moments to escape from under the bed.

I scramble to my feet, but by the time I do, he’s already at the front door. I get one look of his mocking wave before he slips away—having enough decency to close the door softly before he makes his great escape.

Though it’s useless, I launch my dagger at the door, a scream of rage trying to claw up my throat.Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I try to steady my breathing, concentrating on pushing the rage deep down where it can’t harm anyone. Where it can’t harmme.

For a few moments, I just stare at the door the masked man slipped out, racking my brain trying to figure outhowhe got in and evaded not just me, but Orion searching the apartment.

I contemplate calling Orion again, only to shove the thought from my mind as soon as it comes. He already thought I was crazy and just hearing noises. Now that the intruder is gone, and there’s no evidence, he’ll no doubt conclude I’m some crazy coot.

He’ll never take me seriously again.

Shaking my head, I move to the front door and lock it tight, triple checking the stupid thing even though I know in the back of my mind he didn’t get in through there. With anxiety pricking the back of my neck, I head back to my bed, crawling under the covers yet again.

The only thing that gives me comfort is the fact that I survived the Sanctum. And if I can live through that, I can handle some creepy stalker in a plague mask trying to get his rocks off by scaring me.

I fall asleep with the dagger in my hand all the same.

PART TWO

THE REAPING

21

SERAPHINA

“TOO MUCH GUTS”

12 years ago…

I stand in front of the lavatory’s shattered mirror, tracing the deep pink groove of my scar as my gaze goes in and out of focus. The tile beneath my soles is as cold as the air, signaling the arrival of winter and another three months of utter hell.

I know this winter is going to be particularly bad. We lost our best forager, Zenith, during the summer trials, and because of that, we were unable to harvest and store enough rations for the remaining eight of us.

Zenith… poor Zenith…

My chest squeezes with physical pain as I recall the six months ago. All nine of the remaining girls had completed the summer trials—all but one. All we had to do was unpick the shackles binding our ankles to the bottom of the lake and swim to safety. It seemed easy enough—we had all been trained so extensively in lock picking, and even Maggie had come to master it. But with the added pressure of being underwater with no oxygen… some of the girls started to crack.

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