Page 44 of Reaper
I just witnessed a man kill and revive another man, and Jason wants to be a dick? He was just dead for fuck’s sake.
And he doesn’t seem to realize that.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
“You need to leave, too,” I snap.
“What?” he asks incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
Is that what Reaper did? Give Jason a heart attack and then shock his heart back into rhythm? So many questions and zero damn answers.
“I’m not leaving,” Jason says, wiping blood from his face. His eyes are swollen from the beating Reaper dished out, but he’s alive so there’s that.
“Like hell you’re not. Leave, or I call the police.”
“You’ll call them on me but not that asshole?”
“Damn right I will.”
I whirl around and storm inside, locking the door behind me. Jason pounds on it for a minute, but then he leaves, swearing he’ll be back to talk.
We’ve got nothing to talk about.
Now, Reaper, that’s a different story. There’s plenty to talk about there. I mean…
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Before I spiral even more, I check on the twins to make sure the drama didn’t wake them up.
Drama. That’s putting it mildly.
Heidi and Hunter are still sound asleep in their beds, and I give myself a few minutes to watch them in all their peaceful glory. Heidi is still snug under the blankets, her lips slightly parted, and her hand resting on the pillow above her head. Hunter, on the other hand, is sprawled out with one leg hanging over the edge of the bed, both arms flung out to his sides, and his blanket kicked completely off of him. They might be twins, but they’re far from the same.
Satisfied that they’ve been undisturbed, therefore not traumatized like me, I close the bedroom door and make my way to the couch. It dawns on me that I don’t feel sick like I did earlier, and I hate to admit that whatever brand of medicine Reaper’s infused with seems to have done the trick.
That doesn’t mean that I’m not sick on a completely different level after what I witnessed. I replay the whole scene I found on the porch in my mind, over and over on a loop, trying to determine if I hallucinated or what.
Nope. Definitely didn’t hallucinate.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Grabbing a throw pillow, I hug it to my chest, wishing it was Reaper despite the events of the night. How does this man have me so twisted?
“He’s just as twisted as you.”
Great. Now I’m hearing voices.
“Turn around, Kyra.”
My heart pounds against my ribs as I slowly turn around only to find a shimmering woman standing near my front door.
Maybe I really was hallucinating earlier because I certainly am now.
“You’re not hallucinating,” she says and walks closer. “I’m Skuld, Reaper’s Valkyrie.”
I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The woman—Skuld—watches me closely with her hands extended toward me. Only when I close my mouth does she lower them to her sides.
