Page 7 of Definitely Dead

And then…quiet.

Dust from the crumbling drywall floated in the air, the particles illuminated by the streetlights outside. A humid breeze swept across the destruction, rustling the pages of open books, and rain soaked the carpet beneath the broken windows.

Sprawled on his back on the other side of the room, Sunne closed his eyes and tried to assess the damage. Surprisingly, however, he felt fine. The pressure in his head had vanished. His chest didn’t feel like it had a boulder sitting on it anymore, and his hands had stopped burning.

He moved, only a little at first, but grew more confident when everything appeared to be in working order. No broken bones or aching muscles. No weird pains or bleeding lacerations. Nothing that would indicate he had just survived a magical attack.

“Lizzie?”

With a gasp, he clambered to his feet, squinting into the darkness as he searched for the teenager. It didn’t take him long to find her beneath a broken desk, her hair fanned around her head, and those bright blue eyes open but unseeing.

“No, no, no. Lizzie? Lizzie, say something.” He rushed to her side, his heart lodged in his throat. “You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

He reached for the splintered wood, intending to lift it off her, but froze when his hands sank right through the surface. What the fuck? Shaking his head to clear it, he tried again. And again. Each time with the same confusing results.

“Sunne?”

He jerked around, his eyes rounding when he found Lizzie standing by the closed door, her expression a mixture of guilt and confusion. His relief lasted for only a moment, though. Glancing back at the lifeless body on the floor, his heart sank as his mind reached for an answer it couldn’t quite grasp.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just wanted to talk to my dad. I didn’t mean to…to…”

“Hey, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t. Not even a little, but what else was he supposed to say?

Stepping over broken furniture and torn books, he reached out, relieved when his hands didn’t pass through her like they had the desk. He pulled the girl into his arms, offering her comfort in the only way he knew how.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

“Indeed,” came a deep, rumbling voice from behind him. “Everything will be fine now.”

Spinning on his heels, Sunne held his arm out, ushering Lizzie behind him as he eyed the male standing in the middle of the room. At least a head taller than him, his wide frame blocking the light from the center window, the newcomer arched an eyebrow, returning his assessing gaze with a haughty grin.

“You have questions,” he surmised.

“A few,” Sunne confirmed, pushing Lizzie back toward the door. “Who are you?”

“My name is Bane. You can think of me as your personal Reaper, here to escort you to the afterlife.”

“The…” It took a second too long for the words to register, but when they did, Sunne immediately began shaking his head. “No, this isn’t right. She’s just a kid.”

“A dead kid.”

Tactless much? “Look, just take me.”

“I plan on it.”

“But let her stay. She doesn’t deserve this. She didn’t know what she was doing.”

“Debatable.”

Somehow, he didn’t think punching a Reaper in the face would end well for him, but that did nothing to tame the desire. “Will you just listen?”

“No. Now, are you coming or not?” Bane lifted his arm and glanced down at his bare wrist. “I have places to be. Other souls to reap.”

Sunne straightened, his eyes narrowing and his chin jutting in defiance. “You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” Bane dropped his arm and adjusted the cuffs of his dark suit jacket. “Ready?”

---