Page 11 of To Hell and Back
“Are you okay? What the fuck is going on?”
“My magic is awake already. I’m not sure how, but…”
“Score. Maybe the gods took pity on you and didn’t want to send you back without your magic? Or perhaps it’s a perk of surviving death?”
Seneca had no idea. “Could be. I seemed to be a test case for this rebirth thing, so I don’t think they really knew what they were doing when they sent me back.”
“Right. Well, having your magic is still a good thing. I’ll go wake my parents up and head out to track down my brother now. I’ll call you when—shit, you won’t be able to get my texts if you are at The Manor due to all of the protection wards. Fuck it, I’ll text you with updates anyway. You do the same and let me know if you need me.”
“Will do. Love you, Shadow.”
“Love you too, birthday girl. Don’t die…again.”
She snorted at that. “Same.”
Ending the call, Seneca set the phone down on the counter. She had to get going, but she really needed to wash the lingering memories of death off first. After taking care of necessities, she stripped down and got into the shower. As she stood under the flood of hot water, she tried to plan out everything she needed to accomplish. Luckily, she had hours before the storm would start to increase in power, so taking a few minutes to indulge in a hot shower wouldn’t make much difference.
After she was done, she made her way into the huge walk-in closet that had once been another bedroom. A shiver raced down her spine as she entered the enclosed space. In her previous life, she had spent a lot of time there. Her aunt and uncle had locked her inside that room for days whenever she upset them or whenever they went out of town.
With a couch and access to the bathroom, it had been a far more comfortable prison than being locked away in a storage closet in the basement. When they had first tried to force her compliance, she had spent weeks locked away in the basement. It was only after she agreed to work with them that she had been allowed to return to her bedroom. She had been comforted by the familiar space.
That didn’t make it any less of a cage, though.
Shaking off the past, she tried to decide what to wear for her first official day of rebirth. Half of her closet was filled with designer clothing that suited her goth glam aesthetic, while the other half was filled with swag from her parents’ movies. Skipping the fancy, she went with practical. If she was going to be out in the storm later, she needed to dress for comfort.
She chose a pair of thick black leggings and a black shirt with a knife sticking out of a red heart printed on the front that was the official logo of her parents’ last movie. She also put on a pair of black, water-resistant knee-high boots that would protect her in case she needed to wade through the mud later.
It was a little cool outside, but the temperature was going to drastically drop once the storm hit, so she put on a silver reflective ski jacket with black zippers that she normally wore snowboarding. Heading back into the bedroom, she paused to stuff a few essentials into the various pockets. She didn’t want to bother taking a bag with her, and she wouldn’t need much once she arrived at The Manor.
Although she had felt confident about going to speak to Arson when she had been on the phone with Shadow, that confidence was starting to wane now. She knew him, but they weren’t exactly close. So, what would make him believe her? The only thing she was sure about was that she had to be the one to speak to him.
She just didn’t know why.
But with luck on her side, what could possibly go wrong?
Chapter Four
Killian Black wasbored with life.
No, that wasn’t quite accurate. It wasn’t that he was dissatisfied with his life. He still experienced joy and pleasure. Still found countless ways to entertain himself, but things just didn’t feel the same as they once had.
There was no originality or newness.
No surprises or wonders to appreciate.
The colors of life had become muted, faded until it was all muddled together into an endless, dull existence with little variation. The reality, as unremarkable as it was to acknowledge, was that he was simply restless. He wanted something to happen. Something that made waking up every day worth his time.
A bored reaper was never a good thing.
In fact, it was downright fucking dangerous.
As an ancient dark god, it was no wonder things had lost their appeal over the centuries. Part of that was his own damn fault. Since his brethren had disappeared, he felt a little guilty that he had escaped whatever mysterious fate had befallen them. Because of that, he had sequestered himself in the Human Realm as punishment until they returned.
While he wasn’t an altruistic soul, he did have his own set of principles he followed. Picking up the slack and watching over the humans for his missing friends was the least he could do in their absence.
But he was starting to worry that his fellow reapers might never be found.
Since the dawn of humanity, supernaturals had meticulously observed their progress to determine if they would acquire any magic. Only a small fraction of humans became witches or mages, while the rest of society remained unaware of those with magical abilities living amongst them.
