Page 80 of The Reaper's Vice

The woman kneels beside me, taking my palm in hers. “Who are you talking to, sweetie?”

“Maggie,” I whisper, unable to believe it. “My best friend, Margaret L’Amore. She… I don’t understand. She lives with me. We talk, we laugh, we watch TV. I’ve built my whole life around her. I—” The words die in my throat.

Because I’mremembering—and it all seems so clear. It was right in front of me the whole time. The way she never answered the door. The way she slept ontopof her blankets. The tattoo of a shrike on my hip—a reminder of Maggie I’d gotten, but never knew why.

Even her agoraphobia—an illness I never remember her telling me about, yet one I always assumed she had because she never left the apartment or interacted with anyone besides me.

When I think back, I don’t even rememberwhenshe showed up at the apartment. One day, she was just… there. It all seemed so natural. Soright.

I jerk my gaze to the left as the sound of tolling fills my head. Bells. Ringing bells.

Always bells.

“She… she’s not real.She never was.” My eyes widen as the horrible realization takes root at last. I look down at what Ithoughtwas my best friend, horror dawning on me when I realize it really was a pillow like she said.

“She’sdead.”

“Who?” the woman asks. “Who’s dead, sweetie?”

“Everyone.” My face pales as the room swirls out from under me. “Everyone… butme.”

39

SERAPHINA

“SHRIKE TO A SWORD”

Warning: this chapter contains scenes depicting suicide that may be distressing to some individuals. For a brief chapter summary, visit mindypaigewrites.com

10 years ago…

The dagger is heavy in my palm as I step to the edge of the circle, the sharp scent of eucalyptus hanging heavy in the morning air. It burns my nostrils as I take deep, heaving breaths, every muscle in my body focused on keeping my breakfast down as I gaze at each of the eleven girls spread out along the perimeter of the clearing. I take in each of their features, committing them to memory as if it’s the last time I will see them—because it is.

Today is the day the bells of death toll. Today is the day of selection.

And only one of us will make it out alive.

I look to my right, my heart squeezing as I take in Maggie’s pale face, wishing more than anything I could offer her some comfort.It’s okay,I want to say.I’ll protect you, no matter what. I’ll use my dying breath to make sure you live.

I try to catch her eye to convey this, but she’s too busy shaking at the sight of the Madam stepping into the center of the clearing. Dressed in the finest red silk, she moves effortlessly in her six-inch heels, drawing both envious and terrified glances from the scrawny girls positioned around the ring. Cool green eyes scour each of our eleven faces, disdain curling her painted lips as her gaze lands on Maggie.

“You,” she snarls. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She flicks her gaze to me, raw malice seeping from every pore. “I warned you, girl. I told you this was not the design. Now… you will face the consequences.”

She raises her arms, a confident smirk gracing her gorgeous face. “This selection will be different than the last. Instead of a free-for-all, the next Madam will be decided by one factor, and one factor only.”

Her cruel eyes find Maggie, a vicious snarl curling her lip. “Whoever kills the maggot first gets to be the Madam.”

She claps her hands once, signaling the beginning of the end. The good part of my heart expects the other girls to stand back in solidarity, ready to face off against the Madam to protect our weakest sister.

But that doesn’t happen.

My eyes widen as all ten of the girls rush toward Maggie, their daggers raised and vicious snarls ripping their faces.

“Stop!” I scream. “Stop! It doesn’t have to be this way!”

No one listens.

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