Page 102 of The Reaper's Vice

He opens the passenger door, helping me inside before climbing into the driver’s seat. “Where are we off to?” he asks past the roar of the engine.

I look down at the silver key in my palm, reading the smudged letters written in Sharpie on the front of the key. “Hidden Treasures Storage.”

“No one has asked to see this unit inyears,” the woman at the front desk tells us. “Are you related to Elvira?”

I go to shake my head, but Orion pipes up, “She’s her granddaughter.”

“Oh. Of course.” The woman smiles kindly, pushing up her thick-framed glasses. “It’ll be through those doors, just down the hall on your left. Number 342. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” I take Orion’s hand and head through the sliding glass doors. We walk down to room 342, and I stop in front of the door, my hand shuddering around the key.

“It’s okay.” Orion wraps his hand around mine and leads it toward the lock. “We’ll do this together.”

I take a deep breath as I turn the key in the lock, then let it out as I push it open. My mouth falls open as I take in the contents of the storage locker. Dozens of extravagant red silk gowns line the back wall, the gold stitching glinting gently in the light streaming into the small space. On the left side sit two large file cabinets, and just below—lying on the floor in the dirt and dust—is Vee’s golden Venetian mask.

I step toward it, picking it up with shaking hands. It’s tarnished and chipped from age, but yet it’s clearly a Madam’s mask.So Ghost was right… she reallywasa Madam.

I place the mask on top of the file cabinet, then start pulling open the drawers to inspect their contents. Gold-plated daggers, armor, and hundreds of vials of Vespyr fill the top drawers. But it’s the content of the lower ones that cause my heart to seize.

Files. Files upon files of information. On Vee. Onme.

I pull the first folder from the drawer, my hands shaking as I run my finger of the faded blue ink at the top.Annie Smith - “Seraphina Valez.”

Annie Smith? I flip open the folder, my eyes going wide as I take in the picture of the little blond baby clipped to the front. She’s smiling, holding a light blue pacifier in her chubby fist—but it’s hereyesthat cause me to freeze.

Eyes… eyes like mine.

I flip through the file, emotion clenching my chest as I read more about the little girl. Aboutme.

Annie Smith, born to Tom and Annabelle Smith. Acquired by R-159 on October 12, 1998. Biological parents were paid a sum of 70k and were given a week's supply of X for the commodity.

Below, in the margins, there’s a handwritten note.

Psychological evaluation: prime candidate for future Madam.

I frown, reaching to the back of the cabinet where a folder with Maggie’s name sits. Unlike mine, her first name hasn’t been changed. And at the bottom of her page, her evaluation is much different from mine.

Psychological evaluation: prime candidate for fodder/training other Madams

I throw the folder back into the cabinet, my stomach twisting with disgust.They knew from dayonewho they wanted to be their next Madam… and they knew Maggie would die.

Shaking my head, I close the cabinet and step back, moving my attention to the other file cabinet. This one is empty, save for the bottom drawer.

Inside, I find only a small glass vase and a dove feather. I twirl the feather between my fingers, a memory from over a decade ago crashing into my mind.

Maggie… Maggie gave me this feather. I remember now. The day the Madam cut my face, this was the thing Maggie wanted to show me.

The urn weighs about the same as the feather as I pull it out. I bring it up to the light, noticing something small and white peeking out of the lid. Frowning, I lift the top off, surprised to find a note attached to the base of the lid.

Even more surprised to find the vase containsashes.

“What the heck?” My brows furrow as I stare down at the remains, utterly confused as to who they’re supposed to belong to. Maybe Aaron, Vee’s old love? Shrugging, I place the urn carefully onto the cabinet and fold open the note, my eyes taking in the handwritten words hungrily.

Dove,

If you’re reading this letter, it means I am no longer in this world.

It also means I have some apologizing to do.

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