Page 18 of The Reaper's Vice

Ghost strides up to me, throwing his arms around me and pulling me into a bear hug. I’m so shocked that I don’t return the gesture for a moment, but when I do, Ghost pulls me tighter against him in a brotherly embrace.

“I’m glad you’re back, Orion,” he says, pulling back with a heavy emotion swimming in his violet gaze. “Don’t do that again. Okay?”

He slaps my shoulder as he passes me, moving down the hall silent as a phantom. He stops at his bedroom door, waggling his fingertips at me in a silent adieu.

And then he’s gone.

I see my way out of the lair, a heaviness settling in my chest as I take the stone steps to the exit and leave the place I called home. But it is no longer and will never be again.

I step out onto the clearing, lulled by the distant waves lapping against the cliffs, their strength just as powerful as the sadness cresting in my veins.

Because even though I am free, I have never felt lonelier in my life.

6

SERAPHINA

“LITTLE DOVE”

It’s notsafe in Moriton after dark.

The warning echoes through my mind as I step deeper into the mouth of the forest, the hiking trail barely visible save for the sliver of moonlight peeking through the dense canopy. The night air kisses my arms, drawing goose bumps to the surface of my skin as a distant wolf’s cry breaks the silence. The sound should be cause for alarm, but the things I’ve experienced in my short twenty-four years have dulled me to physical dangers. To the fear of death.

Now, I only fear living.

I clutch my heels in my hand as I continue my leisurely pace, the feel of the ground beneath my bare feet giving me a strange amount of comfort as the shadows encroach from all sides. But it’s not the dark that I’m afraid of.

The dew-tipped grass squishes between my toes as I veer off the path, pushing aside stray branches and shrubbery as I cut a path toward the secret lake at the heart of the forest. I don’t remember when I discovered the place. Only when I laid eyes on it, I was filled with a sense of calm. Of peace.

Now, on nights I'm at war with myself, I make the trek through the woods, ignoring all warnings and tales of the dangerous things that lurk in the Moriton woods at night.

After all, I am one of those things.

I stop at the edge of the glassy lake, marveling at the way the moonlight bounces off the water like a mirror. There’s no sound to disturb me—not the chirp of cicadas or the howling of predators. It’s just me, the lake, and the moon connected beneath the stars.

The beating of wings draws my eyes to the right side of the lake, and I’m struck with the sight of a singular crow, his beady black eye fixed squarely on my figure. I watch him for a few minutes, sure he will eventually lose interest and fly away.

But he doesn’t.

“Crows remember faces, you know?”

Terror strikes my heart as the timbre breaks the silence. There’s something strangely familiar about the voice, a fact that has the hair on my neck rising as I try to recallwhereI've heard it. But my brain is still too foggy from the toxins—too slow to pinpoint the specific lilt in his deep voice.

I wheel around, my hand sliding over the dagger strapped to my hip as my eyes search the shadows. I can’tseeanyone, yet that doesn’t mean they’re not there. I squint, another shock of fear lighting my veins as I make out a decidedly male outline standing just behind the tree line. Try as I might, I can’t make out any of his features—reallyanythingthat would help me pick him out in a crowd.

That is, other than that sinful voice.

Silently, I slide my dagger from its sheath.He looks huge, but if I’m quick enough, I’m pretty sure I could take him…

“Who are you?” I demand, my fingers sweaty as I adjust my grip along the handle. “What are you doing out here?”

A laugh is his only answer. The sound is abruptly cut off, and he just stands there, still as a statue…watchingme, just like that damn crow.

When he refuses to answer, I take a different route. “Crows remember faces, huh?” I throw my heels to the ground and take a slow step forward, pulling my dagger from its sheath. “Would they be able to tell anyone ifmyface went missing in the woods?”

Another laugh, though this one is filled with far less humor. “I have no desire to harm you. It would be like hurting a little dove—much too easy. And cruel to boot.”

“Oh.”So he really does underestimate me.Good.

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