Page 49 of Of Bone and Ash

Serafina

There is a heartbeat of complete silence before Atlas breaks it. “You like him!” he accuses, not mad. More curious as he stares at me in shock.

“What? Don't be ridiculous,” I snap, moving back over to his desk and slumping in the chair next to him. My body aches, and my magic is somehow controlled enough not to need the pain for added control, which makes me feel weird. “I just threw him on his ass and kicked him out. How do you get me liking him from that?”

Atlas snorts and holds out a finger. “Firstly, he’s alive. Secondly, he's alive, and thirdly,” Atlas shrugs and looks at me, a small smile curving on his lips. “You warned him to let you go before attacking. I’ve never seen you give the same courtesy to anyone, including Gabriel.”

“I can't kill Gabe. I can Teos,” I point out, and Atlas shrugs.

“He’s a Phoenix. Honestly, he’s probably the best option for a booty call.” I grimace and glare at my brother as I shake my head.

“I wasn’t lying, Atlas. Teos and I never have and never will be like that. So drop it.” Atlas studies me as I stare him down.

“How did he get your attention so quickly? That's my only concern. You’ve got yourself locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

“I’ve known Teos since high school. And honestly, he’s not the problem here. Well, I mean, he's obviously an issue. The boy has stalker tendencies I wasn't aware of, but I can handle that later.”

“Stalker tendencies?” Atlas snaps, looking alarmed. “Fina?—”

“Not like that.” I stop him mid-sentence. Already knowing who he’s thinking about. My sister-in-law had a stalker that wouldn't leave her alone. It got so bad one of her husbands was almost killed. “Teos is a little intense in his desire to rekindle our friendship. But he’s not dangerous,” I say, calming the worry glinting in his dark brown eyes.

“Hmm,” Atlas grunts, looking unconvinced.

“Listen. I have something I need to talk to you about, and I need you to promise not to lose your shit until I tell you everything,” I say quickly, already not liking how his face has darkened at my words. Atlas nods, and I take a breath to gather my thoughts. “Is there a creature that can walk into your dreams? Or maybe take you into theirs?”

Atlas’ eyebrows dart up, my question taking him by surprise. “Yes. There are a few. Why?”

“I think I had someone in my dreams. Or maybe a couple of people,” I add, thinking back on my first dream. The voice in that one was different, but I had the same feeling of being watched as I did when I met the Reaper in the red cloak. “Oh, and I need to know everything you know about another Reaper line existing,” I add, and this time, Atlas frowns.

“There is only one Reaper line in existence, Fina. And you’re a part of it.” I sigh and nod, already knowing that information but hoping that, by some miracle, Atlas would know of one that’s hidden away like the Ractori Elementalists were. As fucked up as it sounds, the man in the red cloak excited me. I’ve never been so challenged in magic and strength, and the broken side of me wants to know what it would be like to lose. To finally give in and not worry about mundane life anymore. He was also incredibly good-looking. I may not want a relationship for obvious reasons, but that doesn't mean I’m blind. And the fact that I found a man I’m probably related to attractive. Yeah. That's a whole new level of fucked up. It’s probably best if I kill him the next time I see him.

“Yeah. Well, I met one in my dreams. At least, I think he’s a Reaper. I thought he was a Demon, but then he pulled out a scythe and had a cloak—it was red,” I toss in as I replay everything running through my mind.

“Wait. Back up. You met another Reaper?” Atlas asks, shock clear on his face. I see his fingers twitch towards his phone as I nod.

“Yeah. He’s a real prick too.”

“And you thought he was a Demon. Reapers don't have red cloaks,” he adds, looking as confused as I feel. “Shit, Fina, when did this happen and where?” Atlas asks, grabbing his phone and tapping at it furiously before bringing it to his ear.

“The forest last night. I thought it was a dream. It felt like one. But he talked as if it wasn't, and I’ve never been hurt in a dream before, so?—”

“Hurt!?” Atlas snarls, eyes moving back over my body. Shit. I shouldn't have dropped that on him like that. I feel his magic brush up against me, making me shift away from it as Atlas leans forward in his chair. “You have a glamour spell over you,” he accuses, and I roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I didn't want you or anyone else freaking out on my way through campus this morning. Figured glamour was the way to go,” I mutter just as I hear a deep voice grumble something from Atlas' phone. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t planning on telling Atlas I was hurt at all. Then Teos had to open his big mouth and that plan is now firmly out the window.

“Boris. I need you in my office. I have some questions about the guy you think is behind the killings,” Atlas demands as he mouths ‘drop the glamour’. I wince and shake my head. Probably not the best thing to do when he’s talking on the phone.

“Now. I need to know if he needs to bring a healer with him,” Atlas demands, no longer caring about being quiet.

“Jesus, you're dramatic,” I complain, flicking my wrist and letting the glamour hiding the bruises on my neck and back drop but careful to keep the one hiding my scars still in place. It's not like he can see my back anyway, so why bother hiding it when a healer knows about their presence the moment they touch me? Atlas’ eyes bug out of his head as his hand fists his phone so hard I’m worried it's about to crumble in his strong grip.

“Bring a healer with you,” Atlas demands into the phone. I hear Boris say something back and Atlas’ face starts turning a weird shade of purple. “I don't give a fuck what the healer is doing right now. Bring her with you!” Atlas demands before hanging the phone up, not letting Boris say anything more.

“That was mean,” I say with a grin, loving when he gets all angry. It makes me feel a little better about my temper.

“Start talking, now,” Atlas snarls, his rings gleaming, the small desk lamp next to him flickering slightly as he stares me down. Oh shit. He’s really pissed.

“Attie. They’re bruises. All superficial shit. You need to chill out,” I whisper, not liking the anger I see in his face. My words only seem to anger him more, and I can feel sweat dot on the top of my lip as a chill sweeps over me. He’s not just angry but pissed.

---