Page 91 of Reaper Unhinged
The place feels deserted, but it can’t be.
Vans don’t drive themselves.
There’s a window to my left, and I take a breath and peer in. The glass is grimy, but I can see enough to know the place isn’t lived in. Dustsheets cover furniture and cobwebs cling to the inside of the window frame.
Okay, the moment of truth.
I jump into the house.
* * *
Uri
Five more minutes and I’m going in after her. Leaving her behind is not an option. I count down the seconds, watching the house and looking for signs of movement. There are none.
This feels wrong.
Like a dead end.
Like a lure.
Maybe a trap.
Damn it. If anything happens to Cora, Fee will never forgive me. I’ll never forgive me. I should have gone in first.
I catch a flash of movement. A figure pressed to the side of the house, but it’s hard to tell for sure from here.
Then the figure vanishes.
It has to be Cora.
Three minutes left, but I’m not waiting any longer.
Two minutes.
One.
There’s a flash of light in an upstairs window, but it’s gone so quick that for a moment, I think I’ve imagined it. But the thud of my pulse and the thunder of my heart tell me different.
My instincts kick in.
Something’s wrong.
I jump into the house, into the musty interior that screams neglect. The world feels smothered, like pillows are being pressed to my ears. The air is thick with dust motes and leaves a funny taste on my tongue. The room is dark, lit only by the weak rays of moonlight that make it through the grime-encrusted windows. Sheets that were probably once white, but are now brown and ragged at the edges, cover the furniture.
Unlived in.
This can’t be right.
Cora? I resist the urge to call out her name and fall into stealth mode, studying the room around me. Footprints in the thick layer of dust on the ground lead out the door.
I follow her trail and peek out into the bare hallway. There is a staircase facing the door leading up to the first floor. The trail leads to them. I follow, wincing at the creak of the floorboards, way too loud in the silence. My boot kicks something. A wooden peg.
I could jump to the top of the staircase, but something holds me back, warning me to be wary, and then I feel a buzz against my skin that teases the hairs to attention.
Stop, it says. Stop now. This is my celestial power. My instinct for danger, for power unseen.
There is something up ahead.
