Page 32 of The Reaper's Vice

“That’s… socool,” Maggie breathes, her eyes wide with the thread of knowledge I bestowed. “I want to be like a shrike! I want to be able to take down someone like that!”

“Then a shrike you’ll be.” I pull her back down beside me. “Now try and get some rest, little bird. Tomorrow, I’ll show you how to stick something with the pointy end of a dagger. Then, you can do as the shrikes do.”

“You promise?” Maggie whispers, her voice already sluggish with the pull of sleep.

I reach over, hooking my pinky with hers as we both fall into blissful nothingness.

“Pinky promise.”

12

SERAPHINA

“ARE YOU STALKING ME?”

I wakewith tears pouring down my face, a heavy pressure on my chest that I don’t know what to do with. I know what I dreamed was a memory, yet the more I concentrate on the details, the faster they slip from my mind, joining the list of things I can no longer remember.

After shoving sweat-slicked hair from my brow, I throw the covers off and stumble out of my bedroom, needing to make sure Maggie is safe. Slowly, I crack open her door, heaving a deep sigh of relief when I see her spread out on top of her mattress. Her mouth is slightly parted in sleep, and I clap a hand over my mouth as a snore pours from her mouth to suppress my giggle.

Satisfied, I close the door and stumble into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as a yawn tears from my mouth. The process of waking up is foreign to me—as is falling asleep—and the few hours I managed to get last night seemed to have made memoretired than before. With half-lidded eyes, I shuffle toward the crusty coffee machine, my hand heavy as I scoop spoonfuls of espresso into the middle partition.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

I jump at the sound of Maggie’s voice, spilling dark grounds all over the counter and floor with a colorful curse.

“Sorry.” A playful smirk tugs at her lips. “I didn’t realize I was so scary.”

“I didn’t hear you come out.” I close the lid on the machine and press start. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than you, I’d reckon.” She plops down onto one of the barstools opposite the counter. “Dream you wasnothaving a good time.”

I cringe as I stoop to clean up the mess. “Did I wake you?”

“Just a couple of times.” She shrugs, and my chest squeezes with guilt. That is, until she says, “I was thinking about pressing a pillow over your face, but I fought the urge.”

“You’re a monster.” I take a seat next to her as I wait for the coffee to brew.

Maggie grins like she doesn’t have a care in the world, her face fresh and clear despite the fact she just rolled out of bed. I eye Maggie’s strange, mismatched outfit with a raised brow.Bright orange leggings and a puke green tank top is definitely a choice to make.“What in God’s left testicle are you wearing?”

Maggie scrunches her nose. “Nobody says ‘God’s left testicle’ Nina. Stop trying to make it a thing.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’ve been watching too much TV.”

“And you haven’t been watching enough—clearly.”

“I watch enough to get your Mean Girls reference,” I scoff. “Anyone ever told you you’re a real grouch in the morning?”

She sighs heavily, crossing the living room and plopping down onto one of the barstools. “Just this one real turd with silver hair… By the way, your coffee is burning.”

I narrow my eyes, deciding to let the turd comment slide as an acrid scent fills the air.

“Oh, shit.” I rush toward the machine as thick gray smoke billows into the air. Yanking the cord from the outlet, I stare in horror at the thick brown sludge sitting at the bottom of the coffee pot.

“Just go to the café down the street like you always do.” Maggie waves a hand in front of her nose. “This is ridiculous.”

I shake my head, turning and grabbing a mug from the cabinet in a final act of determination. “It’s a waste of money. And I refuse to believe I’m incapable of making some damn bean water for myself.”

Maggie giggles. “Bean water isn’t a thing either.”

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