Page 1 of Dark Reasons

Chapter One

Selena

You should be allowedto murder people.

I know, I know. That seems like a radical concept, but it's one I hold dear. Killing people mightseemproblematic... and most of the time it is.

Unless you have a good reason.

And I have a very good reason.

"Holy smokes," a voice squeals a few feet behind me, "Iloveyour wig! Who did you buy it from?"

There's a fun-size girl hopping up and down with her hands buried in her thick white sweater covered in Hello Kitty decals. I sweep my fingers through my long pink hair. "It's real."

Her glossy lips drop wide. "You're joking. Talk about being committed to the cosplay. Zero Two, right?"

"Perona," I explain patiently. My attention darts to the far corner of the large room. "From One Piece."There, right by that booth selling Funimation DVDs.It takes everything I have not to sprint in that direction. But the girl is still chatting endlessly. And... god help me, I don't want to be rude. "Sorry, I have something I need to go do."

"Oh! Don't let me keep you!" she gasps, waving her hands around her black space buns. I'm envious; I can never shape those right. "I'll catch you at the costume contest later! Bye bye!" She slips away into the crowd. The convention is packed wall to wall, allowing her to vanish in seconds. I'd have trouble finding her if I tried. I hope the reverse is true.

Now where did he go?I squint at the booth from before. It's pressed against a corner, a coveted position for anyone trying to sell stuff in this mad house. It also means they've got access to an exit door to the hotel hallway.

Three men in matching black tee shirts are handling the long line of con-goers purchasing memorabilia from their favorite anime. They're smiling as they make small talk while running credit cards through the devices plugged into their phones. One of them has shaggy brown hair, a small scar on his left eyebrow. I get in his line.

"Can I get that Funko?" A girl who might be eighteen, barely younger than me, motions at a stack of plastic figurines. Scar-Man grabs it, taking her money, thumbing it with practiced movements.

He darts a look at her, flipping the bills in the small till, folding his fist before offering it to her. "Here's your change."

She goes to grab it. Her smile is big and huge and it's obvious she didn't see that he's screwing her over.

Don't say anything, don't risk it, don't—

"Wait." I step close to the girl, shoulder to shoulder. "Count it out. I think he gave you the wrong amount back." My smile is nice and wide. "Accidentally."

"What? Oh, um," the girl sputters. She quickly counts the money and gasps. "You're right!"

"My bad," Scar Man coughs. The five dollar bill is held like a dagger in her direction. His grin is faker than mine. "Here you go. All the commotion in here, just got a little distracted."

"It's okay," she assures him. Holding her Funko proudly she slips out of the line. It's just me and Scar Man now. He sizes me up, and I tilt my head, waiting for him to speak. It's fun to watch how uncomfortable he's getting as I remain silent.

He wipes his nose. "Looking for anything in particular?"

Nothing in his tight set, rounded jaw says he recognizes me. I'd figured as much; the whole point of my pink hair and coal-rimmed eyes, my tiny hat, my red elbow length cape and striped socks, is to look like a character from a show. Not like Selena Browning, the pale girl with hollowed out eyes and a hundred reasons to scowl.

But Iama little disappointed. Part of me wanted to see his horrified clarity.

I might still get the chance.

"Actually," I drawl out, "I was wondering ifyouwere looking for something."

"What do you mean?"

My teeth bite down lightly on my lower lip. He glances, then back to my eyes. God he's easy. "I have some classic, still in the box, mechas. I don't know how much they're worth, maybe you do?"

The line forming behind me is getting thicker; louder. He peers over my shoulder, his annoyance obvious. "I'm not really looking to buy stock. We've brought enough to offload for this convention."

"I figured," I sigh softly, bracing myself against the counter, ensuring that my arms press on the outsides of my breasts. I'm close enough to see his throat flex when he swallows. "I just don't know who else to sell this stuff to. It's probably junk, I don't know." I lower my voice. "Can I show you?"

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