Page 26 of Haunted Hearts

“Time moves differently here,” Willow murmurs, unusually somber as she listens to our updates. “When communicating with spirits, it’s clear that time doesn’t mean the same thing to them—us— that it does to the living. How long has Fulton been over there inthattimeline? It’s been longer than just two days.”

Us. I suppress a shiver. She’s a spirit because of me. Bile rises up in my throat. For a moment, I fear I’m about to choke. The feeling only gets worse when Willow looks up from her plate at me. I can’t meet her gaze. Looking away, I force down the queasiness and try to breathe evenly.

Us bad. The sinister voice in my head whispers. Never once have I heard it sound so forlorn.Hurt her.

Mentally, I roll my eyes. Yes, I know I was the one to kill her. I don’t need the monster pointing out the obvious. No matter how many times I try to remind myself that if Ihadn’tkilled her, she would have continued to suffer, I can’t get the sound of her neck snapping out of my head.

The reaper nods with a thoughtful hum.

Him, I do look at. Though he seems relaxed, he watches us intensely when he thinks we’re not looking. And when he’s not studying us, his attention falls on Willow with hyper-fixation.

Sometimes his gaze becomes so hungry that the monster in me stirs possessively.

The only reason the creature in me doesn’t react negatively as Brock stares at my woman is because Brock’s kept his distance. While Death taught us how to help his daughter during her episodes, Brock would linger, watching and listening. As we struggled to help Willow, the reaper’s made sure we had food readily available to us, clean sheets, and has been here to answer any questions about the realm that arise.

Honestly, I don’t mind him around. Brock seems pleasant enough. While there is some tension between Theodon and the reaper, it doesn’t seem to extend to the rest of us.

“You’re right, Willow. Since I’ve been to your realm, I’m familiar with how time passes there,” Brock continues, “Since your arrival to this realm, give or take a day, it’s been about a week that he’s been there.”

A week?The breath is knocked out of me as I consider that. That’s a week Fulton has had to terrorize the world. A week for the Brotherhood to clean up the mess we made and to brush the entire thing under the rug. I’d shrugged off the news about the Brotherhood when Jonah had told me what transpired in the temple, but now that I’ve had time to sit and think about it… I have to force down the wave of fiery abhorrence that flares to life when I think of the organization that we gave our lives to.

“Arrival? Such a delicate way to say we died,” Jonah snorts before shoving a bite-size quiche into his mouth.

My eyes dart to his face. Out of everyone, Jonah here seems to be having the least trouble adjusting to the Realm of the Dead.

“It’s harder on some than others to hear,” Brock shrugs. “I’m always careful how to word things.”

“I think we all know our status,” Theo states, hardly sparing the reaper a glance.

Just as I look over at him, I catch Willow doing the same. Her pupils narrow on Theodon. Something dark flickers behind those green eyes whenever one of us speaks. Is that hatred? Rage? I haven’t been able to meet her gaze to figure it out. Whatever it is, we deserve to be on the receiving end of it. I wouldn’t blame her if, after lunch, once we’ve given her an update, she sends us away to survive the Realm of the Dead without her.

My stomach sinks further.

For the thousandth time, I swear I hear the sound of Willow’s neck snap. I flinch. It won’t stop following me around. It’s like it’s taunting me. Tearing at my sanity and heart. Reminding me of what I did to the woman I love.

As I stare at her profile, I realize that the darkness isn’t just in her eyes. There’s something dark moving under her skin. I blink. Wellthat’snew. This wasn’t happening while she was recovering. Frowning, I note the way it looks like shadows are racing just under the surface of her neck and arms. Even in her hands, shadows seem to move.

Have the others noticed yet?

“Your father will be pleased to see you up,” Theo tells Willow pleasantly, as he either ignores or doesn’t notice Willow’s fixation on his face. “You know, he’s worried that your, ah,conditionwould be a lingering issue for a while.”

Willow freezes with a grape halfway towards her mouth. Her fear… I can feel it. It’s stored in that piece of her spirit that I can now visibly see if I take off my shirt. It’s strange, but I know what I’m feeling is only a distant echo of whatever it is she’s experiencing in the moment. But while faint, there’s no denying what it is racing through her. At Viktor’s shiver, I realize it’s possible that he feels it even more than the rest of us do. She holds a much bigger piece of his soul, and vice versa.

“Willit be?” She asks in horror.

“Not if we can help it,” Theo assures her quickly, finally acknowledging her stare. “The pieces of your soul that we hold seem to warn us when you’re about to fade on us and we’re learning how to hold you here, to keep you present in this moment. I’m sure, after a while, it will become second nature to us to anchor you.”

“Your dad will be able to explain it better, I’m sure,” Brock assures her.

The terror only eases some. My fingers twitch with the desire to reach out and hold her hand.

“I swear the past few days feel like a nightmare that won’t end,” Jonah grumbles, looking down into his lap, his expression grim.

He’s not wrong. My throat convulses. Reaching over the table, Willow places her hand over his. A spike of unwarranted jealousy blossoms in my chest. I want that contact. When Jonah looks up, she gives him a short smile.

“It’s going to be ok… at least for a little while.” Her quiet reassurance is twisted with foreboding.

My teeth gnash together. “What do you mean?”

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