Page 2 of The Umbra King

“Nothing. Can we go?”

He stopped her from walking around him. “Not without Cora. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Rory, I’m so sorry,” Cora said, out of breath from running. “I swear, I thought he liked you.”

“It’s fine,” Rory clipped. “I’ll seeyou at home.”

She maneuvered around Dume, and Cora’s protests followed her. Her sister grabbed her arm and turned her around. “I said I’m sorry.”

Rory fought the tears pricking her eyes, refusing to cry at school. “I begged you not to do it.”

Cora looked back at Judd, who was still staring at her, and lifted her middle finger. His eyes widened as he looked behind him, and when he confirmed the gesture was meant for him, he shook his head and stomped off.

Rory grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled it down. “What is wrong with you?”

Cora shrugged. “He doesn’t like me anymore.” She motioned for Dume to join them. “Screw him.”

Rory pinched her lips together. “He did nothing wrong.”

Cora turned to her fully. “Everyone in our grade knows you like Judd, even him.”

Rory’s face burned hotter than a thousand suns. “No, they don’t.”

“Yes, they do,” Dume agreed.

Cora lifted a brow at Rory. “If someone asks your sister out in front of you, knowing you like them, they’re a prick. Even if you didn’t like him, I don’t date idiots.”

She threaded her arm through Rory’s. “He looks like he doesn’t brush his teeth, anyway. I sit next to him in period one, and his breath always stinks.”

Rory giggled despite herself. “That’s not true.”

“She’s right,” Dume chimed in. “That means he doesn’t wash his balls either.”

Both girls grabbed on to each other in a fit of laughter as they headed back inside the school. Rory rested her head on her sister’s shoulder as they walked, and Cora squeezed her hand and whispered, “Fuck him.”

Rory shookherself from the memory and whispered to herself, “For Cora.”

Ten years ago Rory watched through a window as her sister wasbrutally murdered, setting in motion Rory’s path to becoming one of the most prolific serial killers in all of Erdikoa.

Her guilt disappeared, and she continued home to sleep like a baby.

Rory toedoff her boots and snuck into the apartment she shared with her mother, Lenora. Most people thought it odd that a twenty-five-year-old still lived with their parents, but once they learned her mother was aSibyl, they understood.

Sibylssaw every potential future around them, and it caused them to go insane. Fortunately, their abilities didn’t begin to manifest until they were around forty-five years old, giving them time to enjoy some of their life.

Every mystic was born with a mark behind their left ear, identifying their abilities, and to be born with the mark of aSibylwas to be given a finite timestamp on life. Because of this, her mother had lived her life to the fullest, but now she spent her days staring out the window, speaking in riddles no one understood.

After easing open the door, Rory slipped inside, holding her boots, and crept to the bathroom.Feyhad the gift of being light on their toes, and she could usually walk around without waking her mother.

She stared at herself in the mirror and sighed. Her straight dark hair was still in a tight bun, but flyaway strands stuck up in every direction around her face. The mascara she’d put on before her lunch with Kordie, one of her best friends, was smudged across her skin, and she looked like a drowned rat.

She wished she could see herself in color, but having grey-scale sight meant she couldn’t even see the color of her own hair. Her mother said she had brunette hair and an olive skin tone, whatever that meant.

She peeled off her black hoodie, black leggings, and undergarmentsbefore turning on the shower to scalding hot. It would be more fitting if she wore a badass leather outfit like the actors in the supermystic movies, but leather was too hard to move in; it didn’t have the same range of motion good old-fashioned cotton possessed.

Most of her clothes were black, white, or grey, because they matched each other no matter what, and because of that, it made owning a dozen black hoodies and leggings seem normal. She either had Kordie shop with her to confirm her selections were in black, white, or grey, or she shopped on theessenet.Then she labeled the tags and put them away according to color. It was a pain in the ass.

The hot water melted away the knots in her shoulders, and she let out a long moan. A good fuck would ease her tension better than the water pelting her muscles, but showing up at a bar covered in blood was frowned upon. After scrubbing herself clean, she padded to her room and threw on a pair of sweatpants and an old, ratty t-shirt.

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