Page 24 of Switching Graves

The elevator pings and stops, doors opening to reveal a bright hallway lined with seemingly endless mahogany doors that match the front of the building. Beatrix turns left, and I follow.

We march down the hall quietly and I watch the dorm numbers decrease as we pass each identical door. They’re organized with odd numbers to the left and even numbers on the right, situated in sets of two with long stretches of wall between. Just before we reach the end of the impossibly long hallway, Beatrix comes to a halt and gestures toward the doors marked 503 and 505.

“Right here,” she says. “My best friend, Ava, is in 501. She’s the RA, so her dorm is less cramped than ours.” Jamming the key into her lock, she twists it open before looking over her shoulder with a wolfish grin. “I’ll give you a chance to get settled in before I tell her you’ve arrived.”

Nodding, I smile back. “Thank you, for everything.”

She’s already through her door by the time I get the words out, so I’m not sure if she heard me at all until I hear her chirp, “Of course,” just before the door slams shut.

I try my own lock with the key Vanessa shoved into my palm, surprised to find that it slips right in and twists with no issue.

The dorm itself would be better described as a small apartment than anything else. It’s far nicer than the loft I’ve been renting above the flower shop for the past few years. If Beatrix thought this was cramped, I can only imagine what she’d think of that.

The door opens into a cozy living room area that’s been furnished with modern, gray couches and a large TV mounted onto the wall. A generous kitchenette sits along the back, complete with brand new appliances. The bathroom and bedroom doors line the opposite side, taking up the other half of the square footage.

Even with the queen-sized bed sitting in the center of the bedroom, there’s ample space for a dresser and desk along the walls. The walk-in closet allows for more storage than I can even begin to fill and the door beside it leads to the bathroom, which has a large, clawfoot tub and oversized vanity.

It’s no wonder people like Vanessa are dying to get in here. I can’t begin to imagine what strings Aunt Divina pulled to get Poppy into these dorms. The cost alone must be astronomical.

That’s how it’s always been with her. Spare no expense to remind everyone around her that she’s better than they are. My mother couldn’t stand it.

With no other choice but to settle in, I roll my suitcase into the bedroom and lay it across the foot of the bed. First, I flip open the lid and pull out the lump that’s been shoved into the center. Unraveling my favorite T-shirt—the one that Poppy tried to insist I throw away—I gently pull the music box out.

A priceless family heirloom, according to my mother.

“Useless, is more like it,”Poppy would grumble any time she saw it sitting in my second hand display case, her lip raised in disgust at the chipping wood and permanent oil stains from being handled so much. I don’t care what it’s worth. It means more to me than anything else I own.

My mom gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday—the last one I spent with her—and I’ve treated it like gold ever since. The intricate design on top was hand-carved and stained by my great-grandfather.

A little piece of myself in a place I’m meant to be someone else.

After giving it a tight, appreciative squeeze, I set it on top of my dresser and move back toward my suitcase.

I unzip the front pocket and a box falls out, wrapped perfectly in white paper and a red bow.

A folded piece of paper is taped to the top with the message:Try to loosen up.

I can’t help the smile that forms when I recognize Poppy’s handwriting. Of course, she slipped something at the last minute.

Tearing off the paper to reveal what’s inside, I throw my head back and bark out a laugh.

A large, bright pink vibrator sits in my hands. How she managed to slip this past Divina is a miracle in itself.

Unless, she didn’t, and her mother bore witness to this impressive, pink monster.

God, I’m going to kill her.

I drop it back into its box and throw it into the bedside drawer, then move onto unpacking everything else as I wait for Poppy to call.

10

Raze

Dilapidated stone crumbles beneath my shoe as I stride down Landry Street for the first time in weeks. eyes focused straight ahead to avoid the disgusted and horrified stares of those in my path. They scatter out of the way, stumbling over one another like vermin waiting to be exterminated in hopes they won’t find themselves as my next victim.

One thing my fellow Nocturnians have never understood is that I don’t decide who dies.

Theydo—their highly revered leaders who smooth talk their way into power only to crush them like bugs the moment they step out of line. I’m only the knife that delivers their fatal blow.

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