Page 28 of Midnight Auto Parts

Had I any doubt Kierce had been letting me win up to that point, he crushed them when he pulled ahead of me. One length. Two. Three. The man might as well have wings on his feet. “Push harder.”

“I am pushing.” A pleasant burn hummed through my muscles from the exercise. “I can’t go any faster.”

Running was the joy for me, not the destination. Plus his legs were like three times as long as mine.

“Then you’ll lose.”

Swooping in wide circles above his head, Badb cheered Kierce on with eager clicks of her beak.

To have siblings was to be competitive. Mostly with each other. And with Rollo. The jerk. But sometimes it spilled over into other aspects of my life. Like now. With my bird—Crap.Myboyfriend.

Leaning into the burn, I pushed myself harder and harder.

Until I broke.

And an unprecedented rush of energy whooshed through my limbs, propelling me faster and faster.

Until I left Kierce in my dust.

The rush fueled me, propelling me toward the finish line, refusing to ease up even as impact with the front gate loomed before me.

There was time. I could have stopped. I could have skidded. I would have bounced off the wrought iron.

Instead, I leapt, clearing the metal without brushing the top with so much as my toe.

A triumphant whoop parted my lips, but it turned out I was better at jumping than landing.

I hit with my feet, rolled my ankles, tumbled to my knees, then flipped end over end into a heaping pile of browned palmfronds someone had raked together. I lay sprawled out on my crunchy bed, stars in my eyes, marveling at how good I felt after a massive wipeout that should have broken bones.

“Frankie.” Kierce dropped to his knees beside me. “Are you all right?”

“I…” a cough lodged in my throat that might have been a laugh, “…won.”

“How’d you do that?” A small blue face appeared above me. “Jump like a bleedin’ cricket?”

Tommy, the youngest of the Buckley Boys, bounced on his feet about a foot above the ground.

“Look at ’er.” Johnny, the oldest, sounded shocked. “She’s dead as doornails.”

“Not dead.” Bannon, the middlest, squinted at me. “Her head’s got one of them shiny things.”

“A halo,” I supplied, since it was the closest approximation, and the boys nodded in unison.

“Frankie isn’t dead,” Kierce reassured them. “She?—”

“Look it.” Tommy jabbed a finger at Kierce. “Now hers matches his. Black an’ everything.”

“That ain’t right.” Bannon crossed his arms over his chest. “She weren’t yours to take, Reaper.”

“Reapers don’t got halos,” Tommy reasoned. “He’s somethin’ else.”

This was a prime opportunity for me to try out my explanation with a captive audience.

Kierce clasped hands with me, hauling me into a seated position, but I pulled free before he lifted me onto my feet. I wanted to remain at their level. He seemed to understand this and fell back, giving them space to crowd around me.

“It’s like this.” I folded my legs under me. “I died a few days ago and?—”

“I called it.” Johnny slapped the other boys’ shoulders. “Welcome to the club.”

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