Page 9 of Of Bone and Ash

“But not you?” I ask, and Adam shrugs.

“Not my scene.” We step into the entrance of the building. It’s small but cute, sporting a vase of wildflowers and an antique brass chandelier hanging over a pair of red velvet sitting chairs. I take a moment to admire the Ziegler Mahal rug in the center of the room. It's gorgeous, the burgundy and gold woven with an expertise that can't be replicated. “You’re on the top level, apartment B,” Adam directs, stepping to the stairs and climbing up the three flights before walking down the hall and stopping at the wooden door with a large golden ‘B’ in the center. I glance across the hall, looking at my neighbor's door, and wonder who’s living there. I look back at Adam, who is fishing around in the pocket of his sweater vest, muttering words I can't quite make out before he grins and yanks his hand back out with a loud, “Ah-ha!”

Jumping back in shock, I glance at Adam and shake my head.

What the hell?

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he grumbles under his breath. His cheeks redden as he reaches into the pocket of his pants and produces a small white square that he rips open. He quickly unfolds what I’m guessing to be a sanitary wipe and cleans the small brass key he now holds before turning to my apartment door and cleaning the handle in front of him.

“Did you know the average door knob holds thirty times more bacteria than a toilet seat?” he asks, running the wipe over the handle once more for good measure before opening the door and stepping inside the room with a slight smile on his lips.

“I…. did not,” I say slowly, following Adam inside the room, relaxing at the calm feeling the darkness instantly provides. My magic practically pours from me in waves as my shoulders relax, and I hear Adam inhale sharply, his blue eyes widening in alarm. I wince as my eyes shut, hating my poor control and knowing Adam is seconds away from running out of this room like death is on his heels. And to be fair, it kind of is. What I don't expect is Adam shuffling closer to me, like I’ll protect him from the death magic spiraling through the room as he chuckles nervously under his breath.

“Uh… yeah. That's new. Guess I’ll have to get used to it if we’re going to be friends, huh?”

“We’re going to be friends?” I ask in confusion, tilting my head to the side as Adam stares at the growing pool of black magic encompassing the room.

“Well, I mean. Yeah. If you’d like. It's the middle of the year, so making new friends is a little more difficult, and the natives here don't like new people, especially Americans. Besides, I like weird people, so we should get along well enough,” Adam answers, his brows drawing together as he steps forward, his hand raising slightly like he wants to touch my magic.

“No, wait! Don't!” I snap, hand darting out and catching his wrist moments before his fingertips come in contact with my magic. “Are you stupid!? I’m a Reaper with no magical ties to you or your magic! You could actually die if you aren’t careful around me,” I tell him, frustration leaking into my voice. I just stare at the stupid red-headed boy who is shuffling on his feet and using the hand I don't have clutched between my fingers to rub at the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he grumbles, face flaming red. I want to say he blushes a lot, but I’m pretty sure red is just a standard color on Adam Davis. “It looked pretty, and I have a thing for dark magic,” he says, making me eye him as I slowly let his slim wrist fall from my hand. With extra effort, I try to gather my magic back into me, calling it from the corners of the room while promising I’ll let it loose when we’re not at risk of killing our student guide.

“You have a… thing for dark magic?” I repeat, and Adam nods, looking more like a bobblehead than a human.

“Not like that!” he rushes to explain. “I find it fascinating. Did you know that only five percent of Fae-born magic can form a physical entity like this? Not including the elemental witches and mages, since their magic is a natural physical thing. But this—” he gestures to the shadow of death lessening in the room—“is beautiful and terrifying at the same time,” he whispers, his eyes moving to my hands where the shadows of my magic swirl back into me.

You have got to be kidding me. I’m not sure what to say to that. I want to be worried for Adam's safety… but a small part of me thrills at the thought that someone out there is not scared of me because of what I am.

“Were you dropped on your head as a baby?” I ask, genuinely confused by Adam's lack of fear, as I breathe a sigh of relief when my magic is entirely under my control once more. Adam frowns when he looks up from my now magicless hands and shakes his head.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he mutters, looking slightly confused. “Neva says I’m bad with people,” he adds offhandedly, more to himself than to me, and I nod.

“I'm not sure who Neva is. But she’s right,” I confirm, rolling my eyes as I move over to where my bags are stacked neatly next to a small, gray couch. Adam frowns and studies me, nodding at me to continue, a look of confusion clear on his face. “You said you wanted to be my friend because I’m weird. That's not something most people would say when trying to form friendships,” I point out.

He nods slowly and leans against the door of my room, looking like he's getting comfortable. I sigh in annoyance. I guess he’s not leaving anytime soon. “Being weird is bad?” he asks, and I nod, then frown.

“Yes. I mean, people want to blend in, right? Being weird makes you stand out,” I point out, and Adam scoffs.

“Serafina, you’re a Reaper. You’ll never blend in. Why try to be something you're not?” he asks in an amused tone, and I glare over my shoulder at him, hating that he’s right.

“It's safer for people if I do,” I snap.

“I suppose. But if they don't like it, they should blend in… not you. I find it odd how most people dim their brightness for the sake of others. You’re different; embrace it.”

“This is a weird fucking conversation to have with a stranger,” I grumble as I heave the first suitcase onto the couch and open it, smiling when I find my satin pajamas. Bingo! The moment I kick Adam out I’m putting these on and then binging my weight in the snacks and junk food I packed in my other bag. I don't have the mental strength to do any more campus touring tonight, so I won't be going to the cafeteria until morning.

“We’re not strangers. We’re practically friends, remember?” Adam says, a bright smile lighting his happy face. “But I suppose I should let you unpack. I’ll meet you at the dining hall at nine tomorrow?” he asks, standing from his relaxed position against the door. I reluctantly nod.

“Nine. Got it. Thanks for showing me to my room,” I add as Adam beams and nods, grabbing another white sanitary wipe and opening the tiny packet. He takes an eternity to clean the doorknob before he balls up the wipe and tosses it in the small garbage can sitting at the side of a desk nearby.

“I took the liberty of adding some cleaning supplies under your sink when I inspected the apartment earlier. The cleaners went through this morning, but I find their work lacking at best,” Adam mutters, his pleasant expression dropping as he tsks under his breath. “Good evening, Serafina,” he adds, then slams my door behind him, leaving me blinking at the closed door in response.

FOUR

Serafina

Folding the last pair of black leggings, I set them in the small dresser and stalk out of the walk-in closet. Dusting off my hands, I look around the small space, more than a little pleased with myself. All of my bags are unpacked and suitcases stored under the comfortable queen-size bed in my room, I even lit the small welcome candle I found on my coffee table. It's not my favorite scent, far too fruity for my taste, but there is something about having a candle lit after cleaning your space. It makes all your work and effort worth it.

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