Page 63 of The Reaper's Vice

“A GHOST RETURNS”

My chest humswith satisfaction as I close the bedroom door behind me, a sick little smile carved on my face at the memory of Seraphina’s expression.

Of course, all that joy dies at the sight of a grumpy Ghost creasing the cushions of my couch. He’s spread out like he owns the damn place, dirty boots on the coffee table and a lit cigarette between his fingers.

Mycigarette.

“You know, justonce,it would be nice if you knocked.”

Ghost takes a long drag, a smirk tipping the edge of his mouth. “Ididknock.”

“Oh.” I rub the back of my neck, looking anywhere but at the man who raised me. If he looks me in the eye, he’ll know for sure I’m hiding something. “Well, it’s nice of you to stop by, I guess. You didn’t happen to bring your hellion with, did you?” I look around hopefully for the spunky eight-year-old.

Ghost chuckles. “She’s at school, Orion—but it’s endearing that you miss her.”

I cross my arms. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Ghost clears his throat, every ounce of mirth racing from his face. “As much as I’d like to talk about Sloane, there’s a reason I came today…”

I raise my brow when he doesn’t continue. “Well? Spit it out. Unless you’ve already forgotten?—”

“If you tell one more ageist joke, I will string you up by your ankles and carve the flesh from your bones.”

I search his face but can find no trace of a joke. “I’m listening…”

Ghost sighs, pulling his feet from the coffee table and standing from the couch. “I wanted to talk to you about Seraphina. There’s been some disturbing developments that I wanted to make you aware o?—”

Thump!

Ghost’s eyes go wide. “What the fuck was that?”

I shrug, fighting to keep my face neutral. “I didn’t hear anything. Maybe it’s time to get those hearing aids check?—”

Thump! Thump!

Ghost raises a brow, his violet eyes piercing. “Really? You’re going to stand there and tell me you don’t hear that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shrug, looking anywhere but my bedroom door. “Have you considered early onset Alzheimer’s?”

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP!

Ghost looks toward the bedroom door. At me. At the door.

He lunges for it.

I somehow manage to throw my body in front of his, and we both fall to a heap on the floor. Ghost lets out an irritated growl, using all his strength to shove me off before reaching for the handle once more. His fingertips are inches from the brass handle when I jump on his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him like a deranged koala.

“Let me in,” Ghost chokes, his face reddening from my grip around his neck. His gloved hands claw at my forearms, and when that doesn’t work, he sends his elbow back into the side of my ribs.

A distinct crack fills the air, but I don’t let go—not even when the pain steals my air.

“You don’t want to go in there.” I blink away the dots swarming my vision. “There’s nothing in there for you.”

“Orion…”

“What?” I gasp. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

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