GRIM UNREST

HEX UNITE BOOK ONE

NICOLE ZOLTACK

Copyright 2020 by Nicole Zoltack

Cover Artist: Merry Book Round

ISBN: 9798703825198

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum

To my dad

CONTENTS

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Other Books By Nicole Zoltack

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Author’s Note

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CHAPTER 1

“Y ou’re really dragging today,” Sommeil Martin says, glancing over his shoulder at me. His longish brown hair falls forward over his eyes, and he brushes it back with a hand while the other waves for me to catch up to him.

“Maybe you should’ve visited me last night,” I grumble.

Sommeil laughs. “What’s the matter, Donovan? Couldn’t sleep? Or did nightmares plague you? What is a grim reaper afraid of anyhow?”

“Nothing,” I retort with a snort. “But you’re the laziest sandman alive.”

“Not nearly,” Sommeil says easily. “You take that back, Donovan Darthe.”

“Why should I? When’s the last time you actually sprinkled sand?”

“I’m the best cleaner at HEX Unite, and you know it.”

I roll my eyes. Death and bones, there’s no point in arguing with Sommeil.

The thing is, Sommeil is right, as much as I hate to admit it. He really is the best.

The other thing? I'm right too. After he overheard the troll Illa make a comment about Sommeil's skills last week, the sandman has been insufferable.

“I’ve been thinking about dyeing my hair,” Sommeil adds.

“Why’s that?” I ask. By now, I’ve caught up to him. If we don’t get a move on, we’re going to be late for work, and that’s never a good thing.

HEX Unite. Hunters, Slayers, and Executioners Unite. We work for an organization that has two main functions—to keep the paranormal world safe and also to keep it hidden from humans.

The humans have no idea that the creatures that go bump in the night are real. Werewolves, vampires, witches, and so much more.

Including grim reapers.

And oracles.

Paranormal hunters, slayers, and executioners almost all start out by attending Magical Hunters Academy. From there, they're hired by HEX Unite and placed into the different ranks based on skills, abilities, and needs.

Paranormal hunters, surprisingly enough, hunt down evil paranormal creatures so they can be locked away in Magical Prison.

Paranormal executioners, again surprisingly, execute evil paranormal creatures, the ones that have committed too many heinous crimes or the ones who can’t be rehabilitated.

Paranormal slayers are more middle ground. They’re to ideally bring in the evil paranormal creatures to be sent to Magical Prison, but if their targets resist, they can be executed.

Lately, there had been a lot of dark, corrupt activity in the paranormal world, and I wasn’t referring to the headmaster at Magical Hunters Academy being murdered or the uprising of Cain. Yes, the Cain from the Bible. His followers resurrected him, and a legion of paranormal beings all worked together under a…

Human.

There might be one or two humans who do know about us, but that was from circumstances beyond our control. The public at large cannot learn about us, or else war will befall the world. There have been too many visions and prophecies about that disaster for us to risk it, although evil entities from time to time still try to cause that very outcome for their personal gain. My fear behind those visions is that the war we so desperately wish to avoid is inevitable.

Why else are there so many visions and prophecies concerning it?

“Because I want to take a vacation soon,” Sommeil is saying.

“What does that have to do with your hair color?” I ask, more amused than anything.

“Sand. Beaches. Sun. Blond hair.”

“You don’t have blue eyes,” I point out.

“I could still pull off the surfer look, don’t you think?” He sweeps his hair back.

“You do have the long hair.”

“Exactly!” He flashes a grin and rattles off something in French. He was born there, but his parents opted to send him to Magical Hunters Academy. Although there are other schools that send a few pupils to work for HEX Unite, Magical Hunters Academy is known worldwide.

The bad press from the headmaster secretly wanting to out us to the humans has, for the most part, died down. After all, that had been two years ago.

The whole incident with Cain—yeah, incident is an understatement—happened last year. I’m still irked that I hadn’t been called in. All of that carnage and death… There had to have been souls who needed help to cross over. I should’ve been there.

“Are you excited?” Sommeil asks.

“About?”

“We’re going to get a new assignment today.”

I roll my eyes. The sandman is way too easily occupied.

“We get a new assignment all the time.”

“Yes, but I heard that our assignment is coming from a certain oracle this time.”

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. He’s referring to Adriana, an oracle I wouldn’t mind getting to know very well.

But she’s an oracle.

And oracles don’t tend to like paranormal executioners as a general rule.

Because even though the oracles are what make HEX Unite work, the most important part in our cycle of keeping law and order among the paranormal creatures and beings, oracles don’t care for death and dying.

Being that I’m a grim reaper, that’s one strike against me.

And for another, I’m a paranormal executioner. Sommeil’s my partner.

And oracles aren’t the only ones against my occupational choice. I’m not the first or only grim reaper to be employed by HEX Unite. That honor goes to a Morta Duke. I’m sorry. Morta Druke, but in my opinion, she doesn’t count because she is only involved in recruitment.

As for me, I work in the field, and I’m not talking about being a paranormal hunter.

Grim reapers are typical impartial when it comes to death.

We aren’t supposed to kill.

But I’m fed up with the world passing me by. I’m sick of evil winning, that corruption even dares to try to blight the world.

Sometimes, rehabilitation isn’t enough.

What paranormal executioners do isn't murder. Even the humans in some of their countries have the death penalty.

We might not have lawyers, judges, and juries.

But we have oracles. We know the past, the present, and the future.

We know when the crimes happen, and we can go after those responsible.

We will never cross the line to seize someone before they are guilty.

But we cannot prevent them from enacting out the vision that alerts us to their evil deeds.

An oracle’s vision always comes to pass.

The future can’t be changed.

We are prisoners of our whims, of magic, of power.

What drives another person affects us just as much as our own drives.

The world is not always a safe, happy place.

That’s why we do what we do. Would some consider it extreme? Yes. Do my fellow grim reapers disagree with me? Also yes.

Do I care?

No, not at all.

They do what they feel they must, and I do the same.

It's a hot day out, but then it's always hot out here. HEX Unite's Headquarters is in The Wilds in the Midwest of the United States. It's July, and I'm sweltering. It doesn't help that I'm wearing jeans and a black shirt. A tank top at least, and I'm so glad I left my black sportscoat that is long enough to double as a trench coat at my apartment. No cloak for me, not unless I'm performing official grim reaper duties.

Which I don’t want to do. Not today. Today can be simple and clear cut.

And being on time would help with that.

Although, if push comes to shove, I don't always have time to don my sportscoat. Death waits for no one, after all.

Sommeil claps a hand on my shoulder then drapes his arm around my shoulders, and his wide red lips stretch into an easy smile. “Cheer up, homme. Everything will be much brighter when you see her, non? She will melt your black heart.”

“I don’t have a black heart.”

“Brighten your black soul then.”

“My soul isn’t black,” I protest.

Sommeil waves his hand into an arc in front of us. “There is a raincloud over your head.”

“Not literally.”

He snorts. “There might as well be. You act as if the world is personally trying to affront you and only you.”

“Hardly,” I protest.

“You made your choice. I respect it. Everyone at HEX Unite respects it. So your entire race doesn’t. Who cares?”

I glare at him. “You’re one of the first sandmen to be a paranormal executioner.”

“Yes, well, plenty of sandmen before me have killed.” Sommeil releases me, and his smile falters. Some sandmen had been downright evil to the point of facing down paranormal executioners themselves.

To lighten the sour mood, I opt to change the subject. “Why couldn’t my partner be a fairy? Some fairy dust would be welcome right about now.”

“I would love to have a fairy for a partner,” Sommeil says. “A beautiful fairy. Why are so few of them executioners? Maybe I should rethink—”

“You’ll abandon your partner for the past five years?” I demand.

“Well…” Sommeil holds out his hands as he shrugs. “It would be better than staring at your hideous mug every day.”

“You’re so very charming,” I say sarcastically as we enter the headquarters. I nod to a few people we pass in the hallway. The oracles are squared away in the lower level, and we head to the stairs.

“Why you never use the elevator baffles me,” Sommeil comments.

“Do you know how many people have died because of them?”

"And how many people have been pushed downstairs?" he counters.

“Touché.”

You would think that after five years of this, that I would be used to the disappointment and even resentment my own kind gives me, but no. It stings, especially since yesterday was my birthday and my parents didn't call. They at least sent me a card last year. Nothing this year, and I doubt a card got lost in the mail.

I’m twenty-three now. I’m an adult. I don’t need my parents’ approval, but that doesn’t mean I want them to ignore me.

I still send them gifts for their birthday, their anniversary, Christmas. Even at Easter, I sent them some chocolate.

I’m not trying to buy their love, but seriously, aren’t guys supposed to receive a bunch of credit for remembering dates?

I catch my reflection in the glass door we pass. My skull is a bit more noticeable than it normally was, probably because my control is slipping. I can use magic to conceal myself and pass off as a human, but grim reapers have another form, obviously, that of a skeleton. That’s why we prefer the hooded cloaks. Death is unsettling enough for people. The sight of a skeleton meant to guide their soul is more than a bit unnerving for most.

I sweep back my black hair and close my light blue eyes for a moment, trying to compose myself. When I open them, my skull is less noticeable, although my cheekbones are still very prominent. My face is all angles.

Sommeil’s continued on ahead, and he halts in front of another door. “You coming? Or do you want to head on in by yourself?”

I ignore him, stalk over, and reach for the knob. Damara doesn’t mind if we just walk on into her office, but this is the first time we’re to receive an assignment from Adriana, and I opt to knock.

“Come in.” Her voice is soft, light, and airy, and I expect her office to look like that.

I’m so very wrong.

Damara’s office has white walls and is rather serene. White candles give off a faint aroma, cloves.

But Adriana’s walls are textured, a dark brown-red color. The tile is actually dark stone. There aren’t any chairs, no desk either, and Adriana sits on the floor with her eyes closed. Her hands rest on her knees instead of up, holding a magical ball of energy for her to see into. That’s how Damara does it, and I assume that’s the case for all oracles.

Her robe is white, though, sweeping forward to cover her legs.

Without a word, Adriana floats to stand. I’ve never seen anyone do that before. Maybe she didn’t really float, but she moves with grace and delicacy. She’s very much alive. I can feel her strong life force and energy from here. Why is this room so dark and red? It almost makes me think of Hell, and I suppress a shudder. Even the candles—black with dripping red wax, their smoke giving off wisps of red smoke, serve to increase that sensation.

"Donovan Darthe, Sommeil Martin." Adriana clasps her hands together and bows. "Well met."

“How are you doing?” Sommeil asks, nudging me.

I glare at him. “We’re to—”

“I know,” she says with a slight curl to her lips. Her blond hair is partially down, the rest in a long braid that drapes over her right shoulder, the end reaching near her stomach.

“Of course you know,” Sommeil says with a laugh.

I almost glare at him. Is he flirting with her?

Her eyes are a bit unsettling, but then all oracles have strange eyes. When she has a vision, her eyes will be wholly white. Right now, she’s not, so her eyes have a pale pupil, the rest still mostly white.

She meets my gaze, but she’s not smiling any longer. “A Yeti by the name of Zenzil has slaughtered an entire flock of harpies.”

“Where?” I ask.

“The northern edge of the Monstrous Mountains.”

Sommeil begins to laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll be able to get our hands on some fairy powder for that,” the sandman says.

But I linger. “An entire flock?”

She nods.

“How large was the flock?” I ask. Normally, I don’t press for details, but harpies tended to nest in large groups. They can inhabit entire towns all by themselves in their largest flocks.

"Three scores," she murmurs. Her strange but alluring eyes fill with unshed tears.

I give Sommeil a sideways glance. Sixty. The yeti killed sixty harpies.

Harpies aren’t that easy to kill, especially if you rile up their nest.

“Despite your being late,” Adriana says, “I was running behind myself, so I wasn’t able to get you his file.”

"You think this yeti has committed other crimes?" I ask and then answer my own question. "You don't go from being your regular everyday yeti to committing mass murder overnight."

“Did you see how he—”

“Sommeil,” I snap.

He lifts his eyebrows but says nothing to me, nods to Adriana, and curtly turns and leaves.

Great. Now, he’s going to be upset with me. I shouldn’t have been so harsh, but he can’t ask Adriana how he slaughtered those harpies. I would rather prevent her from having to see that again.

“Don’t you worry,” I assure her. “We’ll see to it that justice is done.”

“Unlike others, I’ve had my reservations about this position, accepting it,” Adriana murmurs.

“Why?” I ask, eager to know more about her psyche while also hoping to be able to help her.

She blinks solemnly once, twice, and then nods toward the door. "You should be going, don't you think?"

Because Zenzil will strike again.

I nod back. “We’ll…” I trail off. I had been about to remark on justice again, but I don’t want to repeat myself, so I just wave awkwardly and rush out the door, proceeding to slam right into Sommeil.

A sprinkle of sand falls onto the floor, the particles glowing a bit. He snaps his fingers, and they disappear, back to wherever they came from on his person.

“Come now, Donovan,” Sommeil says with a laugh, his nose up high as he strolls along the hallway. “We must see that justice is done, mustn’t we?”

I shoot daggers at his backside, and he just laughs and laughs.

Never should’ve told him how I felt about Adriana. Then again, Sommeil doesn’t always have sand in his eyes. When he wants to, he can have rather astute observations about the world and those around him. Maybe he would’ve been able to tell.

Can Adriana tell? What does she think about me?

I’ll worry about that later. First, I have an assignment to do.

A yeti who killed at least sixty times already. This won’t be an easy charge at all.

CHAPTER 2

Sommeil leads the way to the research center. We haven’t faced off against a yeti in the field, and all paranormal hunters, slayers, and executioners are required to start assignments only after being armed with both weapons and knowledge.

Madra, the head of HEX Unite, is a valkyrie who has us all on a tight leash, but that’s to be expected in order to keep the organization run as a tight ship.

“Do you think he ripped off their wings?” Sommeil asks as he flips through a book.

“Seriously?”

“You know yetis are incredibly strong,” he says. “I figure they have to be strong enough to—”

“How could you ask how he killed them?” I growl.

“How can you not want to know?” Sommeil demands. “If he used a weapon at all—”

"Doubtful. His claws are razor-sharp, and so are his teeth. Claws and teeth. Those are his weapons."

“Just because he doesn’t need a weapon doesn’t mean he didn’t use one,” Sommeil says, rolling his eyes. “If he has a blade, you owe me.”

“What? A drink?”

Sommeil shakes his head. “You to talk to Illa for me.”

“Talk to her about what?” I ask suspiciously.

“I want that vacation.”

“So put in for it.”

“Nah. I want to know how long I should put in for first. I don’t want to risk asking for too much time and being denied outright, and I want my beach relaxation time to stretch out as long as possible.”

“As if I’m going to be able to get that intel from Illa,” I protest.

“Then you better hope that the yeti doesn’t have a blade.” He turns the page of the book he’s consulting.

I roll my eyes and scan over Zenzil’s file. The yeti isn’t as old as I am. He’s not even twenty yet, but yeti’s reach their peak strength around now. Yes, he has a file, but he wasn’t ever sent to Magical Prison. He’s killed before, but it was deemed an accident. Still, that death count requires a file.

An accident. He caused a massive avalanche that almost wiped out an entire town. An act of God, the survivors claimed. What did they do? They dug out the entire town, buried their dead, and rebuilt it. They still live there, and from what the file says, it's a tourist attraction. Why I don't know. I bet the town has a lot of ghosts.

And yes, in case you’re wondering, that town is located near Monstrous Mountains. I bet the humans have a different name for it, but a lot of evil paranormal creatures have lived or haunted those parts, and they’re monsters all right. There aren’t many areas where paranormal executioners are sent more than the Monstrous Mountains.

I’ve never been before, but I’ve heard the soil is permanently stained red. Personally, I find that hard to believe—very hard to believe—but human urban legends tend to be true. I’m not sure if that holds up for paranormal urban legends too.

“And if the yeti doesn’t have a blade?” I ask dryly.

“Does that mean we have a bet?” Sommeil asks with a glint in his eyes, his one dimple appearing.

I side-eye him. I never like to make bets with him. I think he might be able to get into people’s minds even when they aren’t sleeping, but he won’t confirm that.

He won’t deny it, either, though, just because he likes to be difficult.

Sommeil and I go way back. We attended Magical Hunters Academy together, and honestly, I was more than a little miffed when Darius Devonshire was made the king for the quest at the end of our third year. I had been the king for year one and year two! But Miyako, the queen from year three, is a kitsune, and we dated for a bit but split before then. She hadn’t been queen when I was king. Maybe she was why I wasn’t picked? I don’t know. The king and queen come down to a popularity contest, and I lost out.

And then Darius was made a paranormal executioner right away. Normally, you have to work your way up through the ranks if you want to become a paranormal executioner, but no. He was short-tracked.

And then fired.

It was stupid and petty, but I was happy when I learned about that.

Then, he and the human helped to save the day. He was a part of that legion.

He was.

I wasn’t.

I didn’t learn about everything that was going on until it was almost too late for me to try to do anything about the whole thing.

Which makes me wonder just how much of the future the oracles can see. Maybe we shouldn’t rely on them quite so much.

What am I saying? It's not as if I have a better idea concerning how things should be run, and even if I did, things here at HEX Unite have been the same for centuries. No, far longer than that.

Sommeil shoves his hand into my face, and I glare at him before shaking.

“We have a bet, but…” I squeeze his hand until he flinches slightly and begins to grimace. “What is it I get when I win?”

“I’ll teach you how to flirt.”

“I know how to flirt!”

“Yeah, you used to be a pretty smooth talker with Miyako and… What was that dryad’s name again?”

“Laurelis.”

“Never understood what you saw in her. Yes, she’s beautiful, but she’s all life and flowers and nature, and you’re…”

“I’m not death,” I say dryly.

“Fine. You don’t need help with flirting. Supposedly.” He rolls his dark eyes. “I’ll put in a good word for you with Adriana.”

“As if you have an in with her!” I protest.

Sommeil merely crosses his arms and shifts from side to side. “Who says that I don’t?”

“You don’t,” I say hotly.

He chuckles. “You really do have it bad for her. Don’t worry. I don’t even mind that you’re being a grouch because she doesn’t seem to realize you have the hots for her.”

My nostrils flare. “Will you grow up?”

Sommeil stands, stretching taller. He can do that, affect his size and shape, turning not just into sand but also rocks. Don’t ask me why he can turn into rocks. It’s not like he’s rockman, but I guess sand and rocks aren’t all that different. Actually, isn’t sand ground up rocks? That makes sense. The water erodes the rocks on the beach for thousands of years, gradually turning the rocks into the sandy beaches we enjoy today.

Not me. I've never been to the beach. Lying out in the sun doesn't appeal to me, and I don't really like the water either. It's not as if skeletons can float. Human bodies float because of gases that decomposition creates, but I'm not dead. My bones… No. And yes, humans can float. If I learned how to, I could probably float.

I don’t want to learn how to.

I don’t even like to drink water as it is.

My mom used to be concerned that I was dehydrated all the time. She used to care about me.

Not anymore.

Not since I decided I want to take lives in addition to leading souls to the other side.

I’ve been branded a traitor by other grim reapers.

I’m not.

But I do see their point, even if they don’t see mine.

"I've grown," Sommeil says smugly. "I know you were talking about my maturity, though. It's not as if you're the most mature man to work for this organization, just so you know."

I glance around. There are always people in the library, all kinds of people from vampires, werewolves and other shifters, fairies, witches, and so much more. A fairy glances over at us before dropping his gaze down to his book.

There are tables spread throughout the enormous research center. It's basically a library, and for the most part, partners do try to keep their voices down low since people who come here do so to work. So many bookcases and shelves were built directly into the back walls. There aren't even any windows in the room because that would mean fewer books.

No one seemed to have overheard Sommeil at least, and I blow out a breath.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a bit grumpy.”

“It’s all right,” Sommeil says easily enough. Not much ever gets him down. “Grim reapers are known to be a depressing lot.”

I blink at him.

He shrugs, grinning. “You ready to head to the armory then?”

“I always take the same thing with me,” I remind him.

"Yes, yes. Heaven forbid a grim reaper uses a weapon that isn’t a scythe.”

“What are you going to use?” I ask. “Did you find out anything—”

“You’ll see,” the sandman says with a glint in his eyes.

Uh oh. Zenzil isn’t going to stand a chance.

CHAPTER 3

We're allowed an entire pouch of fairy dust. It's possible the yeti has moved away from the mountain, and we need to be able to follow his trail as quickly as possible. Sixty dead from outright murder… several times that from an accident. If the accident hadn't have occurred when he was ten with such a long cooling-off period, I might've been inclined to think maybe he was a serial killer and should've been killed long ago. For now, though, I really shouldn't question the agency and the judgment of my higherups.

They know what they’re doing.

I sprinkle some fairy dust over us, and we’re yanked through space to end up at the base of the Monstrous Mountains.

Sommeil glances around. “This is the southern end.”

“Look again,” I assure him.

"No, it's the… The sun is… Oh, sandblast it, you're right."

I just shake my head. The first time he ever said that around me—sandblast it—I cracked up. Now, he makes a point of saying it every chance he gets, and it's a bit old and stale.

But it never fails that someone will laugh at it. Encouraging a sandman is never a good idea. They tend to grow a bit, and their egos can grow to be even larger than the size their bodies can take on, and they can stretch out quite a bit.

As in one sandmonster who was the size of almost a third of the Antarctic desert. Yes, the largest desert in the world is in Antarctica. There is such a thing as polar deserts. It actually doesn’t snow a lot in Antarctica. When it does snow, though, the snow never melts. It’s never warm enough for it to.

Ask me how I know so much about Antarctica. I had to deal with a leopard seal shifter who actually had been so strong he could move icebergs, and he had knocked one right into a cruise ship so hard the cruise ship sank. Why he went and did that, I don’t know, but by the time Sommeil and I got to him, he was trying to maneuver another iceberg so he could push it full steam ahead.

Back to that massive sandmonster. He wiped out nearly all of the scientists who lived in Antarctica. He wanted to build a fortress for himself down there, an ice fortress. I guess he thought he was invincible in the cold because a rock can be harder in the cold versus the heat.

But he forgot that rocks can be frozen.

And anything frozen can shatter.

It’s a bit cooler here than it is back at Headquarters, but it’s not even cold enough for a winter coat, and the top of the mountains have hardly any snow. I can’t help myself and glance down, shoving a bit of grass aside to see the color of the dirt.

“What are you waiting for?” Sommeil calls.

"You're so impatient," I grumble. It's not as if I'm lagging far behind. He has an advantage. He increased the length of his legs, so his legs are longer. "Why do you want this job done so quickly again?"

“If I told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” he grumbles.

"Ah, right, the beach. Vacation."

“Yes!” He pauses and looks over his shoulder at me. “Why don’t you put in for a vacation at the same time? We can go—”

“No.”

“How about to France? I can show you—”

I shake my head.

“No? But we can be each other’s wingman…” He trails off when he sees my expression. “You really like her, huh? How? You don’t even know her all that well.”

“That’s the whole point,” I grumble. “I want to get to know her better.”

“Why didn’t things work out between you and the kitsune anyhow?”

"They're a bit temperamental with their tails," I murmur. "About how they grow them, about why they lose them…"

“They can lose a tail through dying, right?”

“Yes, but there are other ways, supposedly.”

“How so?” he asks.

"I don't know." I groan as I wipe a hand down my face. "I asked her, and she got upset, and we snipped at each other, and we decided to split for a bit, and it became permanent. She has six tails, the last time I saw her."

“Wow. Good for her.”

I nod. “Considering she had two the year we graduated, that’s insane.”

“You missed out. I thought she was good for you.”

I shake my head. “She can die and come back to life again without a tail. It messes with death. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just not a good idea for a grim reaper and a kitsune to be together. As for a grim reaper and a dryad, why isn’t that a good idea? Yes, dryads are about nature, but death is natural!”

“What was the story with you and Laurelis anyhow?”

“Seriously, Sandy, not now!”

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” he grumbles when he narrows his eyes and stares higher up the mountain. “Looks like we have company.”

I follow his gaze. Behind a tall tree with an immensely thick trunk was a flash of white. Snow-white hair. Fur. Are yetis covered in fur or hair?

Without either of us having to signal, I start to move toward the right, and Sommeil heads to the left. We'll go as we always do—encroach from two sides, crowd in, and strike. Whoever reaches the creature's backside can attack first. It might sound a bit unsportsmanlike, but we don't have a choice. We have to strike and kill to eliminate the threat before they elude us, and there be a risk that they kill again.

But the yeti straightens from his position, staggers back a step, and turns. He’s tall, well over seven feet tall, and his long limbs have him climbing the mountain at a tremendous clip.

Death and bones. So much for the element of surprise.

I gnash my teeth. I’m the one with the pouch, and I could use it again. We can’t risk him leaving and getting away!

Sommeil can lengthen his legs and race faster if need be. Sorting that out in my head, I opt to use the fairy dust to be right behind the yeti.

Only he’s gone.

Fluttering to the ground is the residue of his own batch of fairy dust.

“Sommeil!” I call.

“Brother in death, I’m right—”

“You call me that again, and I’ll slice your throat,” I warn.

“You’re so morbid,” he says.

I don't have time to retort, not that we mean anything that we say. It's all in good fun. A bit morose, yes, but what do you expect from a grim reaper turned executioner?

Before we can lose the essence of where he jumped to, I pick up the residue of his fairy dust and mix it with a bit of ours, and we're yanked to the edge of a town.

The one that had been rebuilt?

I can't tell, but that doesn't matter as the yeti starts to shrink in size. The white hair is hiding away inside his skin. He's taking on a human form.

He wants to elude us.

If he thinks that’s going to happen, he’s wrong.

The moment I take a step, I can sense the history of the place, the blood spilled, the ones covered in snow and ice.

Yes, this is that town.

How can he bear to show his face here?

This is one twisted individual.

“He’s heading to three o’clock,” Sommeil says.

“No way for us to split up,” I inform him as we start to run. “We’ll just have to drive him—”

“Out of town. I know.”

After all, we can hide what we are as well as the yeti can, but we can't exactly hide our purpose. We can't kill Zenzil in front of the humans, or else they'll want to put us on trial for our crimes, never realizing the crimes Zenzil committed.

And no, HEX Unite would not get us out of a bind like that. We shouldn’t expect that out of them, and besides, if we’re foolish enough to get caught, that’s on us. Now, there are amazing lawyers who are paranormal creatures. They cost an exorbitant amount of money, of course, but paranormal executioners make a handsome sum with each job done. Hazard pay packs a punch, and I live in an apartment, saving up for a rainy day.

A day when death feels like it weighs my soul down too much would be more accurate.

The town itself is more modern than I would've thought it would be, and there are a fair amount of people out on the sidewalks, and we have to rush around them. Even drivers in their cars are looking over. Great. Just what we need. An audience.

Up ahead, Zenzil darts into the street. Cars honk, and drivers yell as their brakes get a serious workout, their cars fishtailing as they barely avoid collisions.

We have no choice but to head out after him. Now, everyone who is paying us attention knows our target, and Zenzil…

Where is he?

I run back down the alley he darted into, checking it over. If he used fairy dust again, he was more careful this time because there isn’t a speck of residue. More times than not, that’s the case, unfortunately.

A whoosh from above has me looking up. Zenzil is there. He just jumped from the roof of the building on my right to the one on my left.

A fire escape ladder. I’m already halfway up when Sommeil leaps up, scaling the side of the stone building.

I yank on his collar and force him onto the fire escape with me.

“No using powers,” I snap.

“It’s not—”

“Humans can’t climb walls like that!”

“Oh, yeah.”

I don’t have time to facepalm, but I would’ve if I had a spare second.

We make it onto the roof, and a small shadow appears. I glance up to spy an unfortunately familiar shape.

The raven flutters in front of my face. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“Not now, Sid.”

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“You know I hate you, Obsidian.” I glance around wildly. Where is Zenzil? He isn’t on this rooftop.

The raven puffs up his chest. “I’m hungry.”

“Go find yourself a meal,” I grumble.

“But if I hang around you long enough—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I’m sure there’s roadkill somewhere.” I turn around, trying to find him when Sommeil points to the left.

“Over there,” the sandman says.

Death and bones. Zenzil’s already five buildings away.

But that’s all right. So long as the bird stops distracting me, I can easily fix this. All I have to do is—

“Mommy, look! Why are they on the roof? Are they playing? Can I play too?”

I grit my teeth. “We can’t catch up to him. Not without the fairy dust, and since we’re being watched… His lead is too great. He’s gone.”

“Don’t worry,” Sommeil says, cracking his knuckles. “I’m the cleaner, remember? I can make sure the humans don’t remember anything they shouldn’t. It’ll just be a dream to them.”

“Yeah, okay, because that won’t be suspicious at all.” I shove my hair back and grind my teeth.

“It’s just the girl and her mom.”

“What about the drivers? If you miss even one… The risk is too high.”

“Oui. You’re right.”

“I can help,” Sid cries with a kraa. “I’ll distract the humans. All I ask in return is a bite—”

“No,” I say firmly.

“It’s so strange the way you two talk,” Sommeil mutters.

“Believe me, I wish I didn’t understand him.”

Sid flaps his wings at me as if he wants to hit me, and he zooms off. Good riddance. The raven loves to hound me, chatting up a storm, wanting to feast on our executions. On two separate occasions, his big beak has caused a target to realize we were on his tail. Neither target got away, as Sid likes to point out, as if that raises my opinion on him.

Spoiler alert—it doesn’t.

My shoulders slump as I head back to the fire escape. We’re going to have to leave the city behind. Too many eyes are watching us for us to try to sneak into a darker alley and use the fairy dust. We’ll have to wait until we’re back near the mountain.

Great. This is just ghastly fantastic.

Zenzil the yeti eluded us. Now, we have no idea where he could be.

Great. Just great. On top of my looking like an inexperienced, unworthy paranormal executioner in front of Adriana, the yeti is now at large and could be off to find someone else to kill.

A sour pit forms in my stomach. It’s not often that I fail, but when I do, a part of me dies.

I won't allow the yeti the chance to kill me anymore than he already has.

CHAPTER 4

O nce we leave the town behind, I stare off at the mountains.

“You aren’t thinking…” Sommeil starts.

“I am.”

“But—”

“The more we learn about the yeti, the better,” I say firmly. “If we examine the nest, we’ll get into Zenzil’s head.”

“I’m not sure we want to get into his head,” Sommeil says dryly.

I lift an eyebrow. “Are you telling me there’s a head a sandman won’t touch?”

“Yes,” he snorts. “Do you think I want to get into a demon’s head? Or a zombie’s?”

“What if you did that to one of the brainless zombies?” I ask.

Not all zombies are brainless. Some can talk and even learn and go to school. None ever attend Magical Hunters Academy, at least not that I’m aware of. They’re just too slow and easily killed.

Yes, paranormal executioners are sometimes killed on the job. The same goes for paranormal hunters and slayers.

It's a dangerous job, but it's a necessary one. We do our part to keep the paranormal world safe and secret.

“My uncle did that,” Sommeil says, turning rather stiff. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.”

It’s not like the sandman to close himself off like that, but I file that topic away for us to discuss later. Knowing Sommeil, though, he’ll say we’ll talk about that after we discuss Laurelin. I grin to myself. That’s when I’ll tell him the story about the dryad.

Yes, it’s the exact same stunt he would pull on me if the shoe was on the other foot.

My coat flutters behind me like a cape, and I pat the stick by my side. All I have to do is hold it, and that tiny stick will morph into my scythe. It's a magical one that glows blue when activated. All grim reapers have one as the scythe aids us in our ferrying souls to their proper places.

Yes, places. Not all souls go to Heaven. Most souls that plummet down to Hell know they’re destined for the destination.

But there are some who will argue and fight, and if they aren’t careful, they’ll end up as ghosts.

And ghosts without unfinished business are dangerous entities indeed.

Even ghosts with unfinished business could be dangerous.

But my aim is to try and ensure there are fewer and fewer ghosts. Even those who might want to linger because of unfinished business can be coaxed to leaving. It's possible, albeit difficult, for them to reach lasting peace if they do move on, but the danger ghosts can wreak, the threat they can pose…

Life is a delicate balance between those who are alive and those who are dead, and when that line is blurred, the consequences can prove to be catastrophic.

From what I heard, that’s exactly what happened with Cain.

“You look like you’re ready to turn into your grim reaper self, rip off your skull, and bash someone’s head with it,” Sommeil comments. “You need a vacation.”

“I need…” I shake my head, not wanting to get into it. He knows what I need. He needs it too.

Zenzil.

Locating the harpy nest and trying to find any clues among the wreckage and devastation won’t be easy or fun, but I’m too irritated, anxious, and worried to head on back to Headquarters. Yes, I also want to avoid getting into trouble, but if we have to ask a witch for a locator spell, we’ll need approval first, and word will spread about the failure. We can salvage this and find and kill the yeti before he strikes again.

I hope.

I take another step toward the mountain when a trail of sand swirls around me, reaching toward the pouch of fairy dust.

“I think we should head back,” Sommeil says. “I know you’re afraid of our getting into trouble, but—”

“A locator spell from a witch would cost us—”

“So we don’t talk to a witch.”

I eye him curiously. We could face some serious repercussions for our failure, whether taken off the case or, worse, demoted.

I’ve worked too hard to come this far and be where I am now, and I’ve lost too much in the process. This is the first case in our five years that we’ve made a mistake. Yes, humans saw us, but they didn’t see anything they shouldn’t have. All things considering, the target escaped, but things could have been worse, far worse.

If we do go to the mountain, we’ll be seen as having gone against protocol, and protocol is very clear about what we should do, which is to notify Illa immediately. She would determine our level of guilt and determine which paranormal executioner team should seek out a witch for a locator spell. She could very well give us the book, hook us off the stage.

But maybe we can convince her that no human saw us do anything magical, and then, she might allow us to remain on the case.

But if we do that, Sommeil’s chances of getting a vacation, even a short one, is basically gone.

“You want to see someone other than Illa,” I say slowly.

“Not a witch either,” Sommeil says with a grin.

I furrow my brow, not understanding what he’s getting at.

“A cute little oracle,” he says, clasping his hands beneath his chin and batting his eyes, looking like a fool.

“Sommeil,” I warn.

“Think about it,” he says. “You can see her and get out of her where the yeti is.”

“She’ll know we failed!”

“Better her than the entire department. That he took us to a human town, that we chased him… they didn’t see any magic, though, so there’s that at least, but you know we could face suspension for it just the same. I don't know about you, but I don't want to risk that, so… What other option do we have?"

“The harpy nest…”

“Why would he go there?”

“I don’t think he’s there, but maybe we can learn more about him…”

“And maybe Adriana can help us there too. Come on. Don’t you want to see the cutie?”

“Can you not refer to her like that?”

Sommeil throws an arm across my shoulders. “I promise to not call her that to her face, but it is true, don’t you think?”

My mouth falls open. I can’t deny it, but it also feels wrong to agree with him.

I sigh and shake my head. My thoughts are all muddled, and I’m not sure what would be best. Seeing Adriana might help us be able to salvage this. As long as Zenzil doesn’t kill again, disaster can be avoided. Bottom line, whether we’re reprimanded or not, Zenzil has to be stopped.

I nod. “Fine, we’ll return to Headquarters, and we’ll—”

“No. You.”

“Me?”

“You’re the one who wants to be with Adriana, right?”

“And just what will you be doing?” he asks suspiciously.

“I’m hurt,” Sommeil says, touching his chest. “Moi? I will be looking up more weaknesses for a yeti.”

“You still figuring he has a blade? Because I didn’t see one,” I say smugly.

“Romeo, let’s just head on back now, all right? I’m giving you an opportunity to see your girl. For now, take what you can get.”

“I’d rather Zenzil be taken care of already,” I grumble.

Sommeil eyes my pouch.

We’ve bickered longer than we should’ve, and I give him some so he can head straight to the research area. Before I can use any, a loud kraa sounds.

Sid’s back.

“Go away,” I grumble, holding up the pouch. “I’m leaving.”

“You still looking for that yeti?” he asks.

“Maybe. Why? You know where he is?”

“No, but—”

“Of course you don’t.”

“I can go look for him!”

“And get yourself killed. Eaten maybe. You want to end up in his belly?”

“No, but—”

“On second thought, go ahead.”

The raven huffs a sigh. “One day, you’ll respect me.”

“You almost got me killed!”

“That time with the baital? You can’t blame me for being frightened! I mean, I never saw a half-man, half-bat beasty-looking thing like that before!”

I glower at the bird. “Which is why you should’ve just flown away instead of asking me what it was!”

“But I like to learn about magical creatures. I want to be the wisest raven—”

“You’re already the most annoying. Why stop there?”

“You’re still upset with me. I get it, but I really thought—”

“A raven is no match for a jaculus! You were almost killed, not that I care, but you almost got Sommeil bitten! If the sandman only knew…”

“Sommeil would’ve been fine!”

“A jaculus’ fangs are venomous! Even I could’ve been taken out by it. My line of work is too dangerous for you. Why can’t you be like other ravens and just leave us magical beings alone?”

I swear Sid would grimace if he could.

“Can you just answer me this? What is a jaculus? It looked like a small dragon.”

“Sometimes eyes aren’t deceiving,” I grumble.

“So it’s a tiny dragon? Really? Can it breathe fire?”

“No, maybe that’s why it evolved to have the venomous fangs. Now, go. Scram.”

“If I find the yeti—”

“I think yetis like to eat birds.”

“No they don’t!”

“They’ll eat whatever they can get their hands on… sheep, goats… birds…”

“But he’ll never catch me,” Sid says smugly.

“They can jump really high.”

“I can fly higher—”

“They’re incredibly fast too. You won’t have time to.”

The raven tilts his head. “Are you trying to save my life?”

“I’m trying to do my job.”

Without delaying anymore, I use fairy dust and find myself standing in front of Adriana’s office. Some might think I’m overly harsh with the bird, but seriously, he’s almost gotten myself and Sommeil seriously hurt or killed. The lives of paranormal executioners are threatened enough without a birdbrain trying to get a quick snack at our expense. He’s liable to get us hurt or killed… or himself.

Taking a deep breath, I try to settle my nerves, but my stomach twists into knots. I go to knock on the door when she opens it and almost walks into me.

“Donovan?” she asks, her eyes widening without blinking.

“Can I talk to you a moment?” I ask.

“Of course.” She stares up at me without moving back inside her office.

I swallow hard and scratch the back of my neck. “Ah…”

“You wish to come inside.”

“I do.”

“I don’t know if I want you to come in. Where’s Sommeil?”

“We don’t go everywhere together,” I joke weakly.

Adriana shakes her head but steps aside, and I enter the office and shut the door. She flinches at that, and I sigh.

“You messed up, didn’t you?” she asks.

Interesting. It’s a question, not a statement.

“How can we fix things? The yeti fled, and—”

“You want me to tell you where he is? You are a paranormal executioner. It’s your duty and your job to go and find the evil paranormal creatures and do what must be done. You found him once. You can do it again.” She tilts her head to the side. “Do you mean to tell me that you’ve never had to chase after a target before?”

Sheepishly, I shake my head. “Ah, I guess…”

“You panicked.”

“I… I wouldn’t say that…”

Maybe we had.

"We might've been a little hasty," I admit. "If you could maybe point us in the right direction… I mean, Zenzil has killed sixty harpies! That's huge. He's volatile and dangerous, and there's no way to know what he's capable of and what he might do next."

“Then I suggest you—”

“He also has fairy dust.”

She tilts her head to the side, considering. “I suppose that would make it a little harder, but I honestly don’t know how to guide you. You have your job, and I have mine.”

I nod slowly. Her job is to find the evil paranormal creatures, as in who needs to be dealt with. It’s on us as executioners to go out and find and kill them.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” I say firmly. “Don’t you worry. Sommeil and I will fix this.”

Adriana nods, her expression emotionless, and that’s when I realize I’ve never seen her smile.

I want to.

I want to give her a reason to.

I cough into my hand. “It must not be easy to surprise you, huh?”

“Oracles don’t know everything that’s going to happen,” she protests.

I want to do something to shock her and maybe make her laugh. A hug? A quick kiss on the cheek? No. She might not want either of those, and besides, now’s not the time. I can try to make her smile later.

Maybe it’s because smiling’s on my mind, but I smile at her. “All right then. I’ll be off. I’m sorry for bothering you, and I said that already. Right. Um, I’ll just go now.” I head toward the door.

“Donovan?”

“Yes?” I whirl around, smiling again because I’m a fool.

“You can stop by. After. I want to make sure you’re all right.”

“Oh, why wouldn’t we be?”

“As you said, the yeti’s killed sixty harpies, and paranormal executioners… not all of them return from their assignments.”

“We will. I’ll be back.” I grin again, but her expression doesn’t change.

I blow out a breath, open her door, and almost hit it into a gargoyle.

“I’m sorry,” I start and then swallow a groan.

It’s not just any gargoyle. It’s Zanatre. She’s a paranormal executioner, but right now, she’s not going out on assignments. Her previous partner, an elf, had been killed in action, and there was a standard procedure she has to undergo before she can go back out in the field. Mentally, losing a partner… I can’t imagine that, and no matter what happens, I won’t have to go through that. I won’t lose Sommeil. We might argue and fight, but we’re like brothers. If he goes down, I will too.

I haven’t heard through the grapevine how her partner died, and I won’t ask. It’s not my business, and I’m not one for gossip either. That’s Sommeil’s deal.

But if she’s lurking about the oracles…

“Zanatre, do you have a new partner?” I ask. We aren’t to ever go out on assignments without a partner. There have even been a few rare occasions when two sets of partners have gone after the same target.

Maybe this yeti should've been a twofer.

Nah. Sommeil and I can and will handle this.

“No,” she says in a tone that makes me give her a second glance.

She’s in her human form. She has to be inside Headquarters. Her gargoyle form is far too large for the narrow hallway. Even as a human, she still maintains her stone wings, which are folded behind her. Only when there are humans nearby does she conceal them.

“I’m sure it won’t be long now,” I say awkwardly. “I need to go… Sommeil, there you are.”

I’ve never been so happy to see the sandman as I am now. There’s something about the glint in the gargoyle’s stony eyes that unnerves me.

“Are you ready?” he asks as soon as I leave. “You have a lead?”

“No.”

“No?”

“You ready?” I ask.

The sandman flares his nostrils. “Where to then? You suggested—”

I hold up a hand, thinking fast, trying to recall everything I read in the yeti’s file. A slow smile crosses my face. “Zenzil’s home. He lives in a house in an abandoned town not far from the mountains. I can’t remember the street number. Maybe one wasn’t even listed, but the house is on Wayward Street.”

Sommeil snorts. “No foolin’? Wayward Street?”

I nod. “And what’s even better is the name of the town.”

“Wait. It’s not Despair, is it?”

“Yep.”

Despair. A lot of ghosts hang out there. Hmm. Maybe the ones from that avalanche he caused, but you would’ve thought those ghosts would’ve done everything in their power to go after Zenzil if they blamed him.

As it is, if memory serves, the name of the ghost town being Despair is because the ghosts themselves are so disillusioned about their ghostly state that they don't bother to haunt people in the traditional sense. No, instead, they just spread their despair like an infection to all those who are stupid enough to live there.

“Makes you wonder why the yeti lives there,” Sommeil muses.

“I don’t know, but—”

“You think the ghosts could’ve driven him mad? Maybe that’s why—”

“It’s not our job to figure out why he killed the harpies,” I remind him.

“You’re the one who wanted to go to the harpy nest,” Sommeil reminds me.

I wave my hand. “Ready?”

Sommeil nods and then lifts his chin. “Bonjour—”

I use the fairy dust to whisk us away.

“—Zanatre,” Sommeil finishes.

I wince. The gargoyle was still in the hallway as we spoke? For some reason, I don't care for that. She's a gargoyle, so lurking about in the shadows and watching people, eavesdropping, spying… that's kind of her thing. It helps to make her an excellent paranormal executioner, but it also doesn't serve to help her in the friend department.

“It’s time to execute,” I say grimly, but an uneasy feeling washes over me.

This assignment, all of it from the start, has just felt off. Sommeil panicked, and so did I when Zenzil fled. We never should've returned to Headquarters. How could we have been so ignorant? We need to stop acting like this is our first-ever mission. We're seasoned veterans. We got this.

At least, we should. Sixty harpy kills? That's terrifying. You'd think the monster was a demon.

That’s one paranormal creature we haven’t had to kill. Only the best of the best paranormal executioners are sent after demons. Some end up in Magical Prison. It’s a fine line because we don’t want to risk incurring the wrath of Lucifer, but we also can’t risk allowing the apocalypse either.

But that’s a worry for another day.

CHAPTER 5

T  he town is deserted, all right. Garbage billows about, spilling out of trashcans knocked over on their sides. Stray dogs glare at us, but they don't bark. Sommeil sends a bit of sand their way, and they take off running.

“You didn’t have to scare them,” I comment.

“I didn’t think it would,” Sommeil says honestly. “I just wanted to see how they would react. They’re jumpy.”

We continue to walk. The road has been torn apart, with trees growing, cracking the pavement apart. Moss and other plants are trying to take over the buildings, but there aren’t any flowers anywhere. Nothing pretty about this place. Most of the windows are busted, but there’s not a lot of light shining down, so even the glass shards aren’t refracting light into rainbows.

There aren’t any signs of ghosts, which makes me feel better, but then again, ghosts and grim reapers can either be the best of friends or sworn enemies, and in a dreary, overcast place like this, I’m thinking the ghosts just want to be left alone.

Which is A-Okay with me.

Sommeil points to the left. There’s Wayward Street. We head in that direction when a fat rat races toward us. His belly just about touches the ground. He’s that pudgy. His legs are scurrying as fast as they can.

More rats follow, and it’s clear they’re running away from something.

From what exactly?

Before we can arrive at the entrance of Wayward Street, the yeti is there, in full yeti form. He takes one look at us and releases a massive bellow.

Before he can do anything, the ground shakes beneath our feet so violently that Sommeil and I fall to our knees. Even the yeti is off-balanced. What in the world? An earthquake?

No. It’s Zanatre. She’s in her full gargoyle. She looks like one of those old-school gargoyles, like the ones from the Middle Ages. Her stone wings are curled tightly around her before flying out, spreading out to touch both buildings on either side. That’s how wide her wingspan is.

“What are you two waiting for?” she calls.

She’s blocking the yeti from fleeing, but if he still has fairy dust on him…

“Sommeil, he can’t leave again,” I say as I grab my stick and turn it into my scythe.

Sommeil nods, and a weave of dust snakes out of him, heading for our target.

The yeti glowers at the gargoyle.

“Zenzil,” I call. I’m not the happiest that the gargoyle showed up of her own accord, but maybe she misses being out in the action. Whatever the case, I’m not going to let her get hurt during our mission.

The yeti turns back to me. Bad idea. The sand trail has almost reached him, and Zenzil spies it. He sucks in a deep breath and then blows out a gust of wind strong enough to banish the sand away, making it fall to the ground. Who knew a yeti could give the Big Bad Wolf a run for his money?

And, yes, there had been a Big Bad Wolf, but that’s a story for another time.

Zenzil races forward, heading straight for the sandman. My scythe slices through the air, and a blast of energy arcs out of it, the same shape as the blade.

The yeti, though, somehow bends his back far enough that the blast goes above him and slams into one of the buildings that Zanatre’s wing touches. The building shakes wildly. It’s not the most stable to begin with, and it shook with Zanatre’s arrival and her wings, and now this. Any moment now, and it’ll collapse.

“Gotcha!” Sommeil says triumphantly, holding up a pouch of fairy dust.

The yeti slams a fist straight into the sandman's face. Sommeil staggers back. The pouch flies through the air, and the yeti plucks it. The sandman recovers in time to grab the yeti, but once again, Zenzil slips through our fingers, literally through Sommeil's.

“Awesome,” Sommeil grumbles. “Now where did he go?”

“That was epic,” Zanatre calls.

I wince.

She must do something because both buildings start to tremble.

“Zanatre, don’t move,” I call.

“What do you want from me?” she grumbles as I rush over to the street. “I made sure he couldn’t leave.”

“He had fairy dust, in case you couldn’t see,” Sommeil says.

“I have eyes,” the gargoyle snaps. Her rocky teeth grind a bit. I hate that she does that. It makes a terrible, horrible sound that is far worse than nails on a chalkboard.

“You could’ve just blasted him with fire,” I remark as I examine the structures. “Yeah, if you move your wings—”

“No one is here,” she says, and she moves her wings.

“Don’t—” I can’t say anything else as dust and rocks and a huge puff rises up from the falling buildings. A stone slams into my shoulder, but then, there’s nothing but darkness, and I realize Zanatre’s enfolded me within her stone wings.

Her gargoyle is as tall as I am, and I try to back away. Her wings close in even more, and she wraps her stone talons around my arms, clutching me almost to the point of clawing me. Without warning, she launches into the air, her stony wings still tight around me, turning us almost into a missile. Something hard knocks into her a few times, but she never wavers and always stays on target—at least I assume she does.

We head up and up and up and then go back down after moving forward a bit. When my feet touch the ground, she lowers her stony wings first, her talons still holding me in place.

I try to jerk free, but her grip is tight, and I have to resort to just turning my head to see that both buildings are entirely demolished, and the buildings on either side of them are teetering to the point they might collapse too.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” I tell her.

“What? I was supposed to keep holding up those buildings forever?” she snaps. “That’s a fine how do you do.”

“Why are you here, Zanatre?” Sommeil asks easily as he jogs over to us.

Zanatre releases me instantly, turning away from me and altering into her human form. She's now dressed in tight black banks and a matching shirt. Holsters filled with weapons of all kinds appear, part of her magic. She's armed to the teeth and ready to kill.

An executioner through and through.

“Sommeil,” she all but purrs, and I inwardly growl. She likes the sandman? Since when? That must be why she’s here.

“Well?” he asks, crossing his arms, half-smiling.

“I overheard that you were chasing a harpy killer.”

“A killer of harpies,” I correct.

She flinches.

“You like harpies?” Sommeil asks.

“You don’t?” she counters.

“I don’t know any personally.”

"That's your loss." Zanatre crosses her arms. She has grayish skin, even as a human. Her hair is a purplish-gray color. Even I'll admit her eyes a mesmerizing, stunning deep purple. If her sleeves didn't cover her arms, I would be able to see the swirling purple marks that are identical to the markings on her gargoyle. Tattoos maybe. I've never asked.

“That so?” I ask.

She ignores me. “I had a friend growing up who was a harpy. She got a bad rap. People would tease her all the time for it. It got to the point that she walked around as a human all the time, even slept as a human.”

"I hate to break up storytime," I start, but Zanatre continues as if uninterrupted.

"The sprites were the worst of all, unsurprising. A freak storm happened, and a sprite was trying to fly home. Suicide, I tell ya. You know sprites can hardly fly when it's pouring, and it was raining cats and dogs. Do you know where that expression comes from? It used to be really hot back in the days before electricity, so cats and dogs would rest outside on the roof to be lazy. When it would rain, the roofs would become wet to the point that the cats and dogs would fall off the roofs. Get it? Raining cats and dogs?" She grins, but neither Sommeil nor I react. She huffs. "Anyhow, Zinka was walking home during the storm and saw the sprite was going to get washed away. Zinka went to save the sprite, but she was sliding around too much in the flood."

“The only way she could save the sprite was as a harpy,” I supply. “Nice story.”

Sommeil shoots me a glare. Great. He’s in one of his moods, the kind when he wants to play nice with everyone. Not always a good thing considering our position, but what do I know?

“So that’s why you’re here,” Sommeil says.

“Are you cleared to be in the field?” I demand.

Zanatre lifts her nose into the air. “It seems to me you two might need some help. That yeti just vanished, and without a clue as to where he’s going…” She shrugs, spreading out her wings. “You’ll want to find him ASAP, don’t you think?”

"Yes, so long-winded stories…" I trail off as she stiffens, and Sommeil is back to glaring. "Fine. We'll…"

I point to the nearby mountains.

Sommeil huffs a sigh. “I suppose I don’t have a better idea.”

“Where are you going?” Zanatre asks suspiciously.

“You might not want to come with,” I say seriously.

Her eyes widen, and she opens her mouth before she flinches and draws back. “You want to go to the harpy nest, don’t you? Just like a grim reaper to want to catch a whiff of carnage.”

“That’s not why,” I protest. “He’s not going to head back home, and…” I eye Sommeil.

“I know, I know,” he says with a laugh. “No blade so far, but that doesn’t mean he won’t show up with one when next our paths meet.”

Zanatre shakes her head. “Did you two make a bet about the target?”

“Maybe.” Sommeil winks at her.

She nearly swoons.

Seriously? Sommeil flirts with all the girls. It’s just his personality to be overly friendly.

Until he isn’t.

“Fine, we’ll go to the harpy nest together,” I say. “I just hope that you don’t gain a ghostly ally or enemy, Zanatre.”

She chuckles. “You know ghosts and gargoyles tend to be friends, don’t you?”

“Is that so?” Sommeil asks as we head toward the mountain.

“Oh, yes. Gargoyles tend to be watchers, observers. We can help ghosts out with their unfinished businesses.”

“And what do the gargoyles get out of it?” he asks.

“Oh, gargoyles just like to help others,” Zanatre says. “We’re good like that.”

“Ah.”

I shake my head. This is going to be a long trek. Maybe we should just use some of the fairy dust… but with Zanatre here, we’ll have to use more of the fairy dust, and we only have a limited supply. If the yeti gets the upper hand on us again, I want to make sure we have enough for a quick getaway.

It's frustrating and infuriating that I have to worry about that. A part of me, a large part of me, wishes I could relive this day over, start at the very beginning. I'd find a way to be more suave with Adriana, and I wouldn't go back and see her if we did botch things again, even with hindsight.

And I wouldn’t agree to that bet with Sommeil.

And I wouldn’t say anything in front of Zanatre. It’s not that I don’t want to work with her again. It’s just… The last time…

When a grim reaper tells you not to kill someone, you should listen. That’s all I’ll say about that.

CHAPTER 6

T  hankfully, as we continue on our trek, silence descends.

“Where exactly do harpies have their nests anyhow?” Sommeil asks, shielding his eyes with his hand as he gazed up the mountain we had yet to reach.

"They tend to have them in rocky overhangs, caves almost," I comment before Zanatre can. "A lot of trees, too, so they can roost."

“Seriously?” Sommeil shakes his head. “How do you know so much about them anyhow?”

“You know we learned about a ton of creatures at the academy,” I remind him.

“Yes, and we all crammed for the tests and forgot a lot of it. Hence why we have to research before we head on out.”

I nod slowly, not really listening. Not to him at least. Grim reapers can sense life… and we can sense death. That morbid tendril of death and rot is like a beacon to me, a guiding light to the soul.

All of the harpies must have either passed on or have converted into ghosts already because I can’t sense their death. That’s going to make things very interesting. The harpy ghosts will want revenge, and I can only hope to explain the matter to them before they attack us. After all, we’re on their side.

“You think there will be ghosts?” Sommeil asks.

I glower at him.

“I can’t help it!” the sandman gripes. “Your thoughts are so loud. That and your face…”

“What about my face?”

“It’s so easy to read.”

I huff a sigh and glance over at Zanatre, but the gargoyle is looking about. After a moment, she points to a location that is a bit farther down the mountain, not quite due north. “There. That’s my best guess as to the harpy nest.”

“You sure?” Sommeil asks. “I don’t know. From that spot, couldn’t humans see them?”

“Humans don’t climb this mountain,” I inform him.

“There are always fools—”

“Humans who pick adventurous sports, extreme sports, aren’t fools. They crave to feel life in all of its splendor.” I glare at the mountain before us. “They live more fully than most.”

“Some die, though,” he protests.

“Yes, but first, they lived.”

"So that means you want to jump out of a plane?" Sommeil asks.

I close my eyes so I won’t roll them. Sometimes, the sandman can be more than a shade ridiculous. “No.”

“Touch a train as it goes rushing past you?”

“And risk losing a hand? No thank you.”

“Aw, come on, homme. All you have to do is find your hand, and you can reattach it.”

“It still hurts,” I snap.

"What about deep-sea diving then? Scuba diving?"

The gargoyle is turning her head from me to the sandman, grinning broadly. I’m so glad we can amuse her, but she rubs her hands. “I think I’m right.”

Before anyone can say anything, Zanatre uses some of her fairy dust to whisk us closer to the spot. As soon as we materialize, a feather flutters down to the ground and lands on my dark boot.

A feather that doesn’t belong to a bird.

But to a harpy.

Harpies definitely look the part of monsters with their half-bird bottom half and female faces. I've seen a few up close, when I did a stint at Magical Prison as a guard. I don't think any harpies have ever attended Magical Hunters Academy either. They're irritable, cranky, terribly mean… As far as I know, they're only ever female, and I'm not trying to be sexist about that. How they reproduce I don't know, and I don't want to know.

As far as the only female for a certain race, that's also the case for oracles. Females tend to be capable of huge bouts of magical power. The strongest witches who ever lived have all been female. Maybe that explains why oracles are female because it must take an enormous amount of magical energy to be able to see the past, present, and future, and a future that must occur at that.

“There’s a cave up ahead,” Sommeil says, and he starts toward it.

“Don’t you think maybe you should arm yourself?” I ask, hurrying over to him. During our walk, I put my weapon away. He hadn’t even armed himself during the encounter with the yeti. We really hadn’t been all that prepared for it. We’re not doing well today at all.

Three strikes and you’re out.

I flinch.

“Why?” Sommeil asks. “They’re dead.”

Zanatre winces but says nothing.

“Yes,” I say slowly, “but what if he knows why we’re here? What if he’s come back here? Maybe we interrupted him gnawing on their bones to get to the marrow.”

“You’re disgusting,” Zanatre blurts out.

“What?” I’m legit confused by her reaction. “Bones are—”

Sommeil holds up a hand. “I didn’t bring a weapon.”

“You didn’t…” I gape at him. When realization dawns, I narrow my eyes at him. “Really?”

He holds out his hands. “Can you blame me?”

He meant to use his sand to put the yeti to sleep so I could kill him. Is that what he planned on all along? That is not how we trained, and it’s not how we do things.

I always keep more than one weapon on me at all times, and I remove a sickle from its position tucked within my waistband behind my back.

Sommeil rolls his eyes but accepts the curved blade, and I take out my scythe. It’s better to have weapons out and be ready for anything than to risk our lives for nothing. Everything has gone so very wrong already with this mission, and I’m not about to make a rookie mistake so we can have just another thing go wrong and maybe this time, one of us pay the ultimate price.

To answer your question, yes, grim reapers can die. We tend to live very long lives. My grandmother, Pesta, lived so very long ago that it’s amazing to think of all of the souls she helped to cross over. But that’s another story for another time.

We step around to the outcropping. The cave is huge, with twigs scattered about, stones, and more to form the nest. Not all harpies choose to live like this, at least from what I’ve read. Most don’t stay in their monster form all day and all night, opting instead to take on a wholly humanoid form.

But these harpies here, they’re in the female head/bird body camp.

And they’re not bleeding. Their wings are attached.

They aren’t dead.

They’re very much alive.

Their feathered chests are rising and falling as they sleep peacefully.

How is this possible? There isn’t another harpy nest nearby, is there? I can’t imagine that these harpies would have allowed their winged sisters to be slaughtered and not rise up against the attacker.

Which means…

I can’t even begin to think about what it means because one of the harpies rouses from her sleep, spies up, and lets out a shrill sound that is far more bird-like than human.

The harpies all wake then, and they zoom toward us. They’re fast and furious, and their claws have to be as sharp as a yeti’s. I use my scythe carefully, not wanting to strip their souls from their bodies as the weapon is known to do.

Sommeil attacks them with great glee. He could end this easily, spreading his sand to make them all sleep, but when one swoops down and flies past him to get to me and makes his hair fly about wildly, I realize why he’s refraining. Their wings would blow his sand everywhere, and chances were decent that we would fall asleep, not just the harpies. Any harpies still conscious could then disembowel us with ease.

“We aren’t here for you!” I cry, trying to get any of their attention, but they were winged balls of fury, and even I can’t deny that our approaching their nests with our weapons drawn and sneaking up on them as they slept wasn’t a good look.

“Die!” one of the harpies shrieks. As she swoops down, her face for a moment resembles a bird’s, and she goes to peck at my eye.

I duck down and bring up the curved scythe. My blade is long, coated in runes, but I’m careful not to activate them as I use the weapon only to affect her flight. She careens to the side and falls into the path of another harpy.

Another takes her place, and I back up. I slam into something. Someone. Sommeil.

“We need to get out of here,” he murmurs. “No fairy dust, though.”

My nostrils flare. For the same reason we can’t use his sand, we can’t use the fairy dust. We might end up bringing along some of the harpies with us.

I have no idea what is going on right now, but we need to leave and quickly.

This entire assignment has been botched from the start.

“You know,” Sommeil says, “I would normally love to have this many women fighting around me.”

"If they were fighting over you?" I ask wryly, lunging to the right to avoid a diving harpy. She's heading right for Sommeil's back right now, but the reach of my scythe is huge, and I use the curved blade more like a hook and guide her away before she can finish her attack.

I haven’t noticed Zanatre, haven’t seen if she’s fought at all, but she comes over now.

“They’re an angry swarm if I ever saw one,” she mutters. “We should leave now.

She’s right. The harpies are swarming, but they’re flying up higher now, talking in strange clicking sounds. The gargoyle starts to head away from the nest, but a few of the harpies break off to block her.

“They’re organizing,” Sommeil says bitterly. “If we don’t find a way to leave now, we’re toast.”

“I don’t want to be eaten,” I said.

“Yeah, who would want to eat you? You’re all skin and bones.”

I grin at him.

Sommeil’s face drains of blood. I’m not that surprised. Seeing a skull can do that to a person, especially when it’s unexpected.

I let the rest of my body give way to my skeleton, and I use my magic to create a dark fog around me. I hate that I don't have my cloak, but I'll make do with the fog.

“I am—”

“That’s Donovan!” one of the harpies shrills.

“The grim reaper who kills!” one cries.

My stomach clenches as I can sense their fear, and I hate that they’re almost clawing at each other to back away from me in the cave that suddenly seems to be far too small.

“Leave us be,” I say firmly, “and we’ll…”

“Nice to meet you all,” Sommeil says. “I loved the workout. Needed to work on my duck and slides and all of that. You should be fitness coaches. Just saying. Stay beautiful!”

I grab his arm, and he does the same to Zanatre, and we race out of there, away from the rocky overhang and down the slope.

"I can't believe that worked!" I say breathlessly as I risk a peek behind us. The harpies aren't following us at least.

“What was your plan?” Sommeil asks. “If they hadn’t recognized you…”

“I was going to pretend you were such a skilled fighter that I always tag along to help the souls of those you kill.”

“Huh. I like that. Not exactly a lie, is it?”

I grimace. “No.”

“That was your plan?” Zanatre rolls her eyes.

I ignore her. “But seriously, dude, you called them beautiful.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“And your eye finds them…”

“Have you seen a harpy in their human form?”

“No, but their faces as harpies—”

“Yeah, a bit…” He glances over his shoulder, but the harpies still aren’t behind us, and at this point, I doubt they will come.

“Are you two seriously doing this?” Zanatre gripes.

“If you want to know what I think about your face, you just have to ask.” He winks at her.

She just rolls her eyes, and I have to smile. She might have a crush on him, but she’s not going to tolerate his games, and I can appreciate that at least.

“They can be grotesque,” Sommeil admits, going back to our conversation about the harpies, “but some of that is from being half-human/half-bird. When they’re all human, they…”

Confused as to why he stopped talking, I halt and glance over. He’s staring down at the base of the mountain.

At Zenzil.

Who is turning back into yeti form right before our eyes.

CHAPTER 7

T  his isn’t just a yeti charging us. This is a yeti who is clearly under the influence of one of their famous uncontrollable rage fits.

I scramble to grab the pouch of fairy dust, but with the scythe in my hand, that just isn’t possible. My stomach churns as I backpedal up the side of the mountain. Zanatre. Wait, where is the gargoyle? I don’t see her. She must be flying. Away? Honestly, I wouldn’t blame her. Between the very much alive harpies and that battle and now squaring off against an enraged yeti, this all is far more than she bargained for, and it’s not even her fight or responsibility.

The yeti yanks a tree out of the ground, and when I say tree, I don’t mean a sapling. No, this tree is as thick as Sommeil and I are combined, and the yeti cocks back his arm and launches the tree at us like a missile.

His aim is good too. If I didn’t jump to the side and roll down a few feet, I would’ve been pulverized.

“Listen, you furry brute,” Sommeil says, “this is all just a big misunderstanding.”

The yeti’s arm seems to grow longer. He winds up, leaps to stand before Sommeil, and unwinds his arm, slapping the sandman right in the chest.

Anyone else would’ve died on the spot.

But a sandman’s skin can turn into sand and sand into rock, and the yeti did no damage.

The yeti’s backhanding solid rock doesn’t affect him either.

“We’re just leaving,” I try to reason with the yeti.

“You’re harassing me!” he shouts, his voice inhuman. Interesting. I didn’t think an enraged yeti would be capable of speaking. Maybe he’s coming down some, but that glint in his eyes… No way. He has murder on the brain.

He might not have killed the harpies, but he has the destructive, frenzied energy required to wipe out all sixty. That’s for sure. And he has spare energy to take out a grim reaper, a sandman, and a gargoyle while he’s at it.

“If you let us go—” I start.

“Why should I? You come here, disrupt my life, hunt me down… Why? I did nothing. Nothing!”

“I understand your anger,” I say calmly, “but—”

“Why can’t you leave me be?” he bellows.

He grabs Sommeil and lifts him above his head. I’m afraid the yeti is going to rip him in half, and my scythe glows with its power to tear a soul from its body. I can cleave limbs with this weapon, and I can cleave souls too.

Instead, the yeti tosses Sommeil to the side. My friend disappears, transforming into a mountain of sand that turns into a massive fist that connects with the yeti’s jaw. The yeti releases a howl, and I wince.

Fighting him is only going to make things worse. We need to get to the bottom of this, and if we can just get him out of his berserker-like state…

“Zenzil,” I try, hoping his name would be calming.

It’s not.

In a rage that colors his eyes red, the yeti stomps over to me. “You know my name, where I live… You’re… You mean to kill me. Why?”

“Can we talk?” I ask, revoking the magic in my scythe. “Sommeil, revert to yourself and lower your weapon.”

Sommeil does, but he shrugs. “I lost it.”

I glower at him. That sickle had been the first weapon my dad ever gave me. It’s one of the only things I still have from him.

“Can we talk?” I ask again.

The yeti stares at the scythe in my hand. I go to lay it down, but he holds out a hairy arm.

He wants me to hand over my weapon.

Not a chance.

I close up the scythe to be just the stick and toss it behind me. Unlike the sickle, the magic of the scythe will alert me to wherever it is. The sickle will be much harder to relocate, but that will happen.

I hope.

But I have far more pressing matters to worry about right now.

“Zenzil, we work for—”

“HEX Unite,” he snaps. “Clearly, you both are paranormal slayers.”

Sommeil draws himself up.

“Executioners,” Zenzil corrects himself. The yeti actually seems to turtle into himself as he hunches his shoulders. “But why? I never did anything!”

My partner and I exchange a glance.

The yeti’s face turns red. Rather, the fur or hair covering his face turns red. “That was an accident! The agency knows and recognizes that! A rockslide started because I saved a harpy! She was injured, and she was about to be crushed, and… What?” he asks, clearly noticing something on my face or Sommeil’s when he said harpy.

The sandman is quiet, and I say nothing.

“Are the harpies all right?” Zenzil demands.

Is he… Is he friends with them? If he saved one…

None of this makes any sense whatsoever. Adriana…

Her vision…

Could it be that she had been mistaken? That the vision is from the future?

But the oracles aren’t allowed to give assignments unless they’ve mastered the distinction between past, present, and future. We’re specifically not supposed to be sent out for crimes that haven’t been committed yet!

Is this why? Because a paranormal executioner team had been sent out to kill a target who hadn’t committed the crime yet? What if, just one time, an oracle sees wrong?

The future might be written in stone, but that stone needs to be written first before we can hunt down evildoers.

They’re only evil if they commit the unspeakable act.

But maybe… maybe we can test that theory. Maybe the future can be changed, and an oracle can be wrong.

And if that’s the case…

I shudder to think about that and the possible ramifications that could cause.

“They’re all right, the beautiful lot of them,” Sommeil says, “but they tried to kill us.”

“They aren’t like most. They only attack when they feel threatened,” Zenzil snaps.

The yeti’s gaze falls onto the stick behind me. He bares his huge, razor-sharp teeth, his lips curling back to reveal his blood-red gums. His fur/hair is as white as freshly fallen snow. The more I stare at him, the more I think his face is covered in fur, but the rest of his body was hair. Or maybe not. It is a little longer on the top of his head, like hair normally is, but his limbs are covered more similarly to his face.

“You came to them with weapons drawn, didn’t you?” he demands. “You came to them because… you thought… you thought I hurt them? No, executioners… You thought I killed them?”

I can barely even stop to consider that there hadn't been close to sixty harpies there as Zenzil lashes out against me. I have to jump backward, and I retrieve my scythe, but already the yeti is ignoring me and grabbing a massive boulder. He flings that at Sommeil, who alters his hand into a giant stone fist that knocks the boulder right back to the yeti, almost as if the fist had actually been a bat.

“I will never hurt them!” Zenzil cries.

“Are you so sure about that?” Sommeil asks.

The yeti bellows and rushes him, tackling Sommeil to the ground, but the sandman dissolves into sand to get away.

Zenzil bounces to his feet and whirls around. His speed is tremendous for one his size.

“The oracles are never wrong,” I murmur.

“So now the organization kills before the crime is done?” he wails.

I flinch. If word gets out about that…

The scythe in my hand is cold, deathly cold. The magic of the scythe draws away all warmth from the surrounding nature, even from me, and I shiver. Normally, the coldness of death doesn’t affect me, but nothing is normal right now.

“In the future, you will kill them,” I murmur. “All sixty of them.”

The yeti staggers to a halt and even retreats a step, swaying.

Sommeil materializes behind him and grabs the Zenzil’s shoulders. “Now, Donovan!”

The fairy powder.

If we can bring the yeti back to Headquarters, we can sort all of this out. Bring him to Adriana and—

But Zenzil has other plans. He's reentered his berserker-like state, and he grabs Sommeil's hands, no, his fingers. He breaks several and then breaks off Sommeil's hands at the wrists.

Any other person would be screaming in agony, but Sommeil isn't an ordinary person, and he can reforge his hands out of sand, and he does so, opting to be a man constructed wholly out of rock, but the yeti pummels Sommeil with punch after punch, carving away and breaking off bits of pebbles and stones with each blow. Sommeil counters, blocking as many of the punches as he can, but soon enough, he shifts from hard, compacted sand into rock and then to just be sand so he can shift and move his more fluid-like essence to not once be hit by the yeti.

Which is smart.

But it also means he can't really fight back because each time he tries to turn a fist into a rock to wallop a punch, the yeti targets his fists and claws at the rock, scraping and tearing through the stone like it's water.

Sommeil is taking a pounding, and I grab my pouch of fairy dust and continue to creep closer and closer. Even if the two are still fighting, if I bring us to one of the empty interrogation rooms at Headquarters, we’ll be able to get the upper hand or at least lock the yeti in.

Not that he’s even done anything yet to warrant being locked away, but…

My foot slips on a piece of gritty stone. I must’ve stepped on a piece of Sommeil. I don’t fall at least, but I’ve alerted the yeti to my presence.

He turns toward me, and his eyes… his eyes… In the berserker-like state, they tend to be wild, savage, rabid. It’s as if he’s lost touch with all reasoning.

Only his eyes shift from that to fear.

Fear that we’ll hurt him? He’s trying his hardest to do lasting damage to a sandman, which is no easy feat and one he’s not accomplishing. At least, I don’t think he is.

But that fear… I think it might be that he’s afraid of something else altogether, and I don’t think we have anything to do with it.

Now that his foe is distracted, Sommeil lunges forward, but the yeti’s already gone, using fairy dust.

He’s fled, and again, this time, he leaves no residue behind.

Wonderful. This is just perfect. Everything has gone so ghastly wrong, and I don’t know how we can recover from this.

CHAPTER 8

I  am so very frustrated and irritated with myself. I had to have the bright idea of checking out the harpy nest, and where did that leave us? Attacked by those—surprise—living harpies and then ambushed by the yeti. Now, we’ve left behind a very angry, very confused, very hurt yeti. Not physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Honestly, those kinds of scars can be far more dangerous than the physical kind.

Sommeil grumbles under his breath as he checks himself over. He heaves a sigh, and I eye him.

“Are you all right?” I ask, scanning him for any lasting injuries. I didn’t think he should have suffered any long-term damage, but maybe I’m wrong.

“I took a serious pounding,” Sommeil says, his lips twisting into a grimace.

“Do you need to see a healer?”

“No. I just… I need some water. I’m a bit parched.”

I don’t have a canteen with me, but the sandman does. He guzzles down every last drop and then nods.

“Better?” I hope.

“I’ll be fine,” he mumbles.

“Where did that—”

“If you’re looking for me, I’m right here,” Zanatre says, flying down to land a few feet away.

“Did you see all of that?” I ask.

“Of course she did.” Sommeil snorts. “I really took a pounding. You must think I’m a weakling.”

“I think you two need to be smarter or else that yeti…” She shakes her head. “What in the world is going on? That yeti was supposed to have killed the harpies, right? You said sixty. There weren’t sixty at the nest.”

I throw up my hands. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we need answers, and Zenzil—”

“You betcha we need answers,” the gargoyle says firmly.

I wince at her use of we.

“Aren’t we over that?” she asks.

I say nothing.

“I’ll tell you this right now,” she announces. “I’m out if you plan on killing him.”

"I want to bring him into Headquarters," I tell her.

Sommeil nods. “Adriana gave us the assignment.”

“Oracles.” Zanatre exhales deeply through her nose. “Come on, Sandy. You and I will track down the yeti.”

“Did you manage to see where he went?” Sommeil asks eagerly.

The gargoyle gives a wicked grin, and maybe it’s a good thing she’s on our side after all. “It just so happens that gargoyles can see, and gargoyles can see.”

Whatever that means.

“And Donovan…” Sommeil lifts his chin toward me.

“I’ll talk to Adriana again.” I pause, expecting Sommeil to tease me, to rib me about making up an excuse to see her again, but he doesn’t. This isn’t a joking matter. Nothing about it is funny.

A life is at stake.

Sixty-one lives to be exact.

“Be careful—” I start when something comes flying at me. The gargoyle tosses me the sickle.

I catch it and eye her. Can she see the significance the weapon holds?

“Just be careful,” I finish.

They nod, and I use fairy dust to whisk myself back to the oracle hallway. I’m almost starting to dread coming here.

I glance up and down. There’s no one else around, which has me on edge for some reason. One of the other oracle’s doors is cracked open, but the place is mostly deserted.

Great. Is Adriana even in her room?

My knuckles tap against the door, and I wait for her to call me in.

She doesn’t.

I knock again, louder, longer. If she’s not here, I’m not even sure where to begin to track her down.

The door opens. Adriana eyes me. “Is it done? I don’t have another—”

“Can I come in?” I ask, trying not to sound too desperate.

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t blink. She also doesn’t step back, and I ease the door open a bit, wanting to walk past her so we can be in her office with the door closed, but I also don’t want to spook her.

What I have to tell her is going to alarm her enough as it is.

She touches her braid, running her fingers down it, and I wonder if that brings her comfort. Maybe it would under normal circumstances, but something so simple as that won’t help much at all.

After a moment, she nods and steps back, and I enter her office. The candles aren’t burning, and the stones of the floor and the walls don’t appear as they had before, all white, the place completely sterile. It’s a bit alarming. Damara’s office, although white like this, somehow had some personality to it, but this seems as empty as can be, devoid of everything.

While I’m filled to the brim with fear, worry, and concern.

Because something is very wrong.

Starting with the oracle standing before me. Well, behind me now because of my pacing.

The oracle I have a crush on.

My feelings don’t matter right now. I just need to explain everything to her. She’ll know what to do. Maybe she even knows we’re going to have this conversation.

I whirl around to face her. She meets my gaze, and it’s eerie how I can see my reflection in her nearly all-white eyes. My face really is all angles, which is a bit surprising given that my head is more skull-like than most.

“No, I don’t know what every conversation will entail before it’s spoken,” she says.

My jaw drops.

“No, I can’t read your mind either,” she says lightly. “You’re rather easy to read, though.”

Sommeil said the same thing. I thought that was just because we’ve been friends for eight years now. That someone I don’t know all that well—yet—can read me is a bit disconcerting.

“Are you troubled about killing the yeti?” she asks.

“Ah, about that…” I rub the back of my neck.

Her lips purse. “I would rather you just tell me what is going on. Seeing oracles and visions is not all that easy. It’s altogether taxing and—”

“We need your help,” I say desperately.

“You haven’t killed him,” she guesses.

“No, and I’m not sure that we should.”

“Why not?”

“Because the harpies are alive.”

Adriana’s posture is perfect. She stands as tall as possible, but after a moment, her shoulders slump, and she glances from side to side as her mouth slowly parts. Her barely visible eyes dart from right to left before settling on me.

“That’s not possible,” she murmurs.

“Let me assure you, it is,” I say firmly.

“No,” she says, her tone appalled but dignified. “You’re wrong, Donovan.”

“I saw the harpies. I fought them!”

“Then you fought different harpies!”

I’ve never heard Adriana raise her voice before. She’ll make an excellent mother because I want to apologize for every sin I’ve ever committed.

“I—”

She holds up a hand to silence me, and she waves her hands in a circle up and down and then another circle parallel to the ground. Her eyes turn wholly white, and she tilts her chin up as high as it will go. Her body doesn't move at all as she enters her trance. I can't even see if her chest is moving. A cloud of white smoke billows around her like a cloud, making her even more ethereal than normal.

After a long while, she exits the trance. Her eyes are wide, and she staggers a bit as the smoke dissipates.

“Adriana?” I reach for her elbow to steady her. “Are you all right?”

She’s shaking, and it takes a moment for her to meet my gaze. “Do you wish to see?” she asks.

Without giving me a choice, she grabs my hand, both of hers covering it, and my mind is flooded with images. It's reckless and a bit hasty to do something like this. Minds can go crazy from something like this. At least, I think it's possible that it could, but I can't worry about that, not when I see the same nest I stood in not that long ago, only this time, the harpies are all dead on the ground, wings torn off, blood seeping into the ground… Everywhere I look, it's carnage, and that's when I see him. Zenzil. He's killing the last of the harpies, and as I watch, one tries to fly away, but the yeti jumps and leaps high into the air and rips the harpy's wing clear off. With his other hand, he plucks the harpy out of the air and proceeds to…

I yank my hand free, and the vision fades away.

My head shakes. So do my hand and my entire body.

“That’s the future,” I murmur. “It has to be.”

“No, Donovan.”

“How can you be so certain?” I demand.

“The candles in the room.” She sweeps her arms. “They block out any vision that is not from the past.”

“The candles…”

“You doubt an oracle’s power?” There’s no reproach in her tone, no emotion at all.

“No.”

“Then you doubt an oracle’s magic. Her intelligence. Tell me, grim reaper, what do you know of the past? The present? The future?”

“I know they’re all connected, a tangled web. A person isn’t the same from one moment to the next. Each action, each decision, each thought can alter a person.”

“Precisely so, and an oracle can see each of those strands that make up the web that is a person’s timeline. We can see who they will become, watch actions from the future.”

“But that strand can’t be changed.”

“No, not at all.”

“Free will…”

“Just because it is foreseen what a person will do does not mean they are no longer free to make the necessary decisions and take the necessary steps to become the person capable of those actions.”

“But how can you be certain that what you saw, what you shared with me, is from the past?” I press.

“How do you know when it is time to help a person? When you need to guide their soul or leave them be?” she asks almost casually.

“I…”

“You just know, don’t you? From experience?”

I nod uncomfortably.

“But you can’t trust my judgment on this matter.”

It’s not a question.

"Adriana, I trust you. Clearly, Madra trusts you, or else you wouldn't be working for—"

“I’ve seen your future, too, Donovan.”

I stiffen and do my best to not react further. As far as I knew, oracles weren’t supposed to look into the future of paranormal hunters, slayers, or executioners.

“You are going to kill the yeti,” she continues.

“No. He hasn’t killed the harpies, and until he does…” My stomach clenches as a sudden thought occurs to me, one I immediately wish I hadn’t thought.

What if Adriana is testing me?

What if she knows the harpies haven’t been killed? Before I told her?

What if she wants me to alter the natural order that HEX Unite operates under and have me kill before the crime is committed?

Can I truly hold back and do nothing so sixty harpies will live?

But isn’t that exactly what I’m hoping for? Why the others have gone after Zenzil? They don’t mean to kill him. All they’re going to do is bring him back here.

“You don’t trust me,” Adriana murmurs.

“I don’t even know who you are,” I say stiffly.

Yes, she’s beautiful, and yes, I wanted to get to know her more, but that was before. Now, I’m not so sure she isn’t a monster, and just being in the same room as her makes me very uncomfortable.

Trust has always been something I haven’t given lightly. How can I after my parents and my entire race turned against me because of my chosen occupation?

But I want to help keep the world safe from threats. Is that so terrible?

It is when you can’t determine the threat.

CHAPTER 9

A driana is silent, her shoulders slumped, and she turns her back to me.

I don’t have time for this, but as I walk around to circle her, I realize she’s reentered a trance. Once she blinks out of it, she turns toward me, and I see the helplessness in her eyes.

It’s the same helplessness I feel.

“There’s too much reliance on oracles here, isn’t there?” I mumble.

She stiffens, her spine straight once more. “Oracles have the purest visions,” she states firmly.

“And are other oracles giving… inaccurate… ah…” I swallow hard. “Are other oracles having similar issues?”

“I don’t want to involve anyone else,” she bursts out, passion giving her pale face a hint of color. She reaches out and grasps my hands. “Please, Donovan, you can’t.”

I say nothing.

“I’ll be fired,” she whispers, her fear evident in the tears swimming in her strange eyes, worry bleeding in her tone. “I’m afraid. I don’t understand. Even when I was young, I didn’t have to use candles to know which visions were from past, present, or future, but here, I can’t risk making a mistake, and I don’t understand… I can’t be fired, Donovan. I can’t.”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable—”

She shakes her head. “I’m the only one taking care of Irina.”

“Your younger sister.”

“She’s too young to find a job, and she hasn’t even started to go to schooling yet. If I can’t save up money, she won’t be able to go to Magical Hunters Academy. Please, Donovan, I…”

“You want me to do what exactly?” I ask stiffly.

Adriana closes her eyes. A single tear rolls down her cheek. "I want you to trust me. I want you to give me time, so I can figure this out."

“We might not have time.” I hesitate and then add, “Zenzil might not have time. We’ve come across him a few times now—”

“You did find him again!”

“Yes, and if we hadn’t gone to the harpy nest, we wouldn’t realize that we were sent to kill a man who has committed no crime worthy of execution.” I don’t mean to, but my tone is cold.

Adriana winches. “Donovan, oracles… It’s not easy to describe our magic or how we use our visions, but I will try. There are different trances we can enter. For the present, we drink a special mixture of herbs. For the past, we use candles. For the future, we use a combination of both because the past and the present help to form the future.”

“And it’s impossible to see the future if you only use candles?” I ask.

“The first oracle, Pythia, used the smoke from an undergrown volcano to help to induce her visions, her prophecies.”

“Oracles don’t tend to give prophecies nowadays, do they?” I ask.

She stares at the ground. “Oracles tend to work for HEX Unite and HEX Unite only. If Irina can’t attend Magical Hunters Academy, she will have no future.”

I say nothing, torn, confused, worried. What are we going to do? Our lives are all becoming entangled into a huge knot. How can anyone, even an oracle, see how this can all end?

“Had others…” I pause to collect my thoughts. “The steam from the volcano that Pythia used, did that steam affect others?”

“Yes. Others were the first to notice the steam and the ability to help see the past and the future, but only those with the magic from Pythia, only oracles, can inhale smoke such as that and not go mad from it.”

I eye the burning candles in the room with a bit of fear.

“Do not be alarmed,” she murmurs. “I do not require a high dose to see the past, and it will not affect you. You need not worry.”

I still stare at the strange smoke rising from the burning candles.

“The first oracles after Pythia suffered seizures after they would give their prophecies. Those seizures ended their lives far too young.” Adriana releases my hands, which I somehow forgot she’d been holding, and she starts to wring her hands. “It took many years for the oracles after Pythia to learn just what was required to control the visions—”

“You control them?” I interrupt.

“To distinguish between past, present, and future,” she explains. “Pythia was by far the strongest and most powerful oracle who ever lived.”

“Or maybe it was that volcano steam,” I mumble.

“Donovan, please. I… I don’t want you to think I have no heart, but you saw what I did.” She reaches out and squeezes my hands. “I don’t want the harpies to die, and Zenzil shouldn’t either if he hasn’t killed them. Something isn’t right. I will get to the bottom of this. If you and the others can bring Zenzil here, that might be for the best because otherwise, I fear he will kill the harpies.”

“Some would think it best to just have the harpies killed first,” I murmur.

Adriana stiffens. “I hate having to focus on death alone with the visions,” she cries.

I blink, startled. To me, death is natural. Yes, murder is horrific, but some die from that terrible act. Regardless of how one dies, if they need assistance crossing over, I or one of my kind will strive to be there.

“Not all harpies are evil,” Adriana says.

“Maybe Zenzil only kills them because he goes mad from guilt for an act he hasn’t even committed yet,” I blurt out. “Maybe we’re just as much to blame as he is—”

“Donovan.” Adriana looks like she’s about to openly weep, but she closes her eyes for a long moment and then seems to find some kind of inner peace when she opens them.

Or maybe that is merely what she wishes to project.

“I will fix this,” she says firmly. “I’ll… I need…”

She rushes out of the room, the door swinging open. By the time I enter the hallway a moment later, she’s already gone.

But there's someone else in the hallway—Illa. The troll marches toward me, not blinking her large red eyes. Her complexion is purple, and her hair can't hide her oversized pointed ears. She has a bit of fairy blood in her, and she's as fierce as they come. I'm not sure why she's not in fieldwork anymore, but I'm sure she still has what it takes to take down a manticore or a zombie.

Or a yeti.

“Donovan Darthe,” the troll says a bit coolly. “Do you care to tell me why your latest assignment hasn’t been completed yet?”

I clasp my hands behind my back. “Sommeil is taking the lead on it.”

“By himself?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you with him?”

I can’t help it now. Trouble might befall us, but there’s no help for that now.

“Zanatre is with him.”

Illa grunts. “That gargoyle never could turn down an opportunity to get back into the field, and the three of you have worked together on a few cases in the past… Very well. I’ll allow it, but she should have asked, and you and Sommeil should’ve looked into whether or not she’d been cleared to return to duty.”

I nodded. “Understood. It won’t happen again. If you…”

The words die on my lips. That familiar, gut-wrenching pull is overwhelming me. Someone nearby has died, someone who risks becoming a ghost if I don’t help them cross over.

“A yeti who has killed sixty harpies is going to prove quite a challenge,” Illa muses.

“Yes. All the more reason for me to—”

“You really should know better than to have sent the others on ahead.” The troll tilts her head to the side, appraising me critically. “What is it you aren’t telling me? You were to be given your assignment hours ago. Why are you still here when the others are out? Did you become injured?”

“Do I look injured?”

Her eyes narrow. I still don’t think she’s blinked once yet. “That kind of pert remark is what I would expect out of Sommeil, not you. No, you do not look hurt, but you could have seen the healers before coming here.”

She glances at the open door to Adriana’s office. I hadn’t closed it in my rush to see where the oracle had gone.

“Adriana is one of the shining stars among the oracles,” Illa states. “She is most thorough, and—”

“How long has she been giving out assignments?” I ask even though I need to go. That poor soul… I don’t wish anyone to be a ghost. It’s not an easy existence, not at all.

“You are doubting her abilities?” Illa asks shrewdly.

“Not at all,” I say as smoothly as I can. “After all, that’s why I wanted as many details from her as possible so that we can find Zenzil as quickly as possible. Speaking of… I should be going.”

“I suppose so,” the troll says slowly.

I can feel the heat of her stare as I walk down the hallway. As soon as I round the corner, I use some fairy dust to exit the headquarters.

I have to find whoever has died so I can help them. Their time is coming to an end, the last bit of sand trickling through the hourglass of their life, and if I can’t help their soul, they’ll be tethered to Earth for who knows how long.

Maybe even forever.

CHAPTER 10

Before I can take one step, Adriana is there beside me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, shocked. “I thought you were…”

“I want to come with you.”

“I’m not… Do you know where exactly I’m going? Why I’m going?”

She just gives me a knowing look.

Of course she knows.

The gut-wrenching pull guides me. I don't have much fairy dust, but I can't use it at any rate. I'm not sure where exactly the dead creature is, but I can feel his soul enough to know that the creature is a male and he died under a great, heavy weight. The chances of him not turning into a ghost are very, very small.

But still, I will help him as best as I can.

Adriana motions for me to go ahead, and she’s right behind me as I race away. My legs churn, and it’s as if all of the minor injuries from the fights earlier fade away. I almost don’t even realize it when I stop running and alter to my skeleton form. Grim reapers don’t have to have skeleton legs. We can have our lower parts be turned to smoke to help conceal us. I’m zooming along now, probably too quickly for Adriana to keep up, but that’s on her, not me.

There, behind a large boulder still within sight of Headquarters, that’s where the pull leads me. I fly over the boulder. It’s a good thing I don’t have legs because they would’ve given out beneath me at the sight of the creature.

The dead creature.

The murdered creature.

Zenzil the yeti lies there, not breathing, holding a fistful of harpy feathers. The breeze manages to tug one free, and it floats on the air until Adriana grabs it.

Wordlessly, I stare at her. How could she have been so wrong? She had it backward. The yeti had been murdered by the harpies, not the other way around. Her magic had failed him, had failed us.

But I can't worry about that right now. I have to assume my grim reaper identity and be a psychopomp, a guide for the souls to the various places of the dead.

Adriana backs up, and I bring a skeleton hand up to the front of my skull face. I clench of fist, and the landscape changes from that of Earth to that in-between landscape where the soul shifts, abandoning the body.

“Grim… Grim reaper…” Zenzil’s soul murmurs in a voice far weaker than most souls. A soul can be in many states upon death—resigned, angry, afraid, joyous… It all depends on how one views death and if they have accepted their plight.

Those with the stronger, bitter emotions are the ones most likely to turn into ghosts, and while his soul’s voice seems weak, emotions roll off him in waves that mimic sonic booms.

“Zenzil.” I stretch out my hand to him.

He ignores it. “You are he.”

I lower my head.

"You came to kill me, sent by HEX Unite."

I expect there to be an accusatory tone, anger, rage, hatred even.

But he’s containing all of his emotions within his soul.

Which is never a good idea.

“Zenzil, come. Take my hand. We can speak more once we’ve arrived.”

“Arrived where?” Zenzil asks, a hint of anger finally creeping into his words. “Heaven? But the avalanche.”

“As you said, it was an accident.”

“That still cost how many lives?”

“Didn’t you save one?”

A soul doesn’t have a corporeal body, and the mind can’t comprehend what a soul looks like, which is why the mind chooses to see a person’s soul as that person’s body, albeit nearly transparent. It is because I see the yeti this way that I can picture him wincing.

“The harpies…” I blow out a breath. “I don’t know what happened, and I don’t suppose you want to tell me.”

“I don’t,” the yeti mumbles. “I don’t. I don’t!”

“Come. Let us—”

The yeti turns away from me, crossing his arms, and it’s only now that I realize he’s in his human form.

The yeti didn’t fight back.

He didn’t defend himself.

He allowed the harpies to kill him.

Why? Hadn’t he said they were friends? I thought he had. No, his asking about them and wanting to ensure they were all right made me make that assumption. Why would the harpies turn against him?

Because of us. That has to be why. We caused this. We messed everything up, and it’s all because of Adriana.

But Adriana wouldn’t lie. She needs her position at HEX Unite too much for her to falsify a vision. What she showed me, she had seen, and she had acted passed on that as she should have.

Which leaves us all in a huge bind because now there is a murderous swarm of sixty harpies who have already killed once.

And Sommeil and Zanatre… they had gone after Zenzil. The harpies, did they fight my friends? Not that Zanatre is precisely a friend…

I've never had so many distracting thoughts during my duties as a psychopomp, and I force myself to focus.

“I come as neither judge nor jury,” I start.

The yeti shakes as if filled with great mirth, but his laughter is silent. “You’re not an executioner, either, though, right? But wait…”

I stiffen. “I do what I must to keep the world safe, and—"

“I can feel it,” the yeti says over his shoulder, his back still to me. “The change. The alteration into a ghost.”

“Do you want that?” I ask. “I can give you peace.”

The yeti slowly turns to face me, standing sideways so his body isn’t fully across from me, his neck twisting. “I don’t deserve peace.”

“Why not? The harpies…”

“I don’t have unfinished business,” the yeti murmurs.

“You don’t want revenge.”

“Not against them.”

I stiffen. If he means to go after my friends, I won’t allow that.

If he wishes to go after me, so be it.

"If you become a ghost without unfinished business, you will wander the earth for all of time," I say, doing my best to remain flat and neutral. Emotion is not a part of a psychopomp's way. Perhaps I am too close to this situation, but the yeti crawled here to see me. He wanted us to meet one more time. I can see the drag marks. He fled from the harpies, probably used dust to get this close to HEX Unite Headquarters, and dragged himself this far.

He could have picked any spot to die, and he wanted to die near me. There aren’t any other grim reapers operating within this vicinity except for me.

“Zenzil, who do you seek revenge against?” I ask.

“So you can judge me?” he asks. “Stop me?”

“Understand you,” I clarify. Every second we spend talking, the greater the likelihood that he will turn into a ghost, but if that is what he wants, I cannot force him to come with me.

“There is nothing to understand—”

“You were wronged,” I say quietly. “If you do stay as a ghost, maybe we can discover what went wrong and why and…”

The yeti slowly turns in the direction of Adriana. In this in-between world, he isn't yet a ghost, so he can't do anything to her, but once he becomes a ghost…

He can see her, though, can sense her life. A lot of times, people who die turn into ghosts because they can see and feel the anguish of a loved one over their dead body.

We watch as Adriana kneels down and closes Zenzil’s eyes. She then slowly removes the harpy feathers from his hands and places them nearby. From the canteen on her waist, she uses the water to wash away some of the blood from Zenzil’s face.

His soul’s hand goes up to his face. Can he almost feel the water? That’s doubtful. Maybe he’s reacting to not being able to feel it.

I swallow hard. “Zenzil, you don’t deserve what happened to you, and I am sorry for my role in this.”

“You came to kill me.”

“I thought… I thought wrong. Yes, I did come to kill you.”

“You fought me. You fought the harpies.”

I can only nod. “The harpies were sleeping. We went to their nest to, ah… I thought I might be able to learn something about you from… I did learn that you weren’t a killer, and I… If I ever thought that the harpies would do you harm, I would have defended you against them.”

“Are you so certain about that?” He tilts his head as Adriana tries to cover his chest. His shirt had been sliced by talons. “Why is she bothering to worry about that? I’m dead.”

“She has compassion.”

“Even as she sends out paranormal executioners to kill.”

I can’t blink when I’m in my grim reaper form. I do still have eyes, glowing red orbs, but only when I want to. I’m not to judge when I’m a psychopomp, but does that only pertain to the soul I’m tasked to charter?

“Zenzil, you are feeling a great many things. I understand that. Please, let me guide you to your final resting place.”

“I don’t deserve Heaven.”

“You aren’t bound for Hell.”

“Why not?” he demands. “I failed the harpies.”

“They turned on you.”

“Yes, but—”

“They murdered you.”

“I failed them,” he repeats stubbornly.

“How so?”

“I wasn’t there for them.”

“How weren’t you?”

“If I had never left them… If I had only just gone ahead and…”

“Gone ahead and what?” I ask, desperation cutting into each word. “Zenzil, if we don’t go now…”

I stretch out my hand.

“A darkness is coming,” Zenzil murmurs. “I’ve seen it. I tried to avoid it, but it’s coming. I didn’t stop it. The harpies welcome it. I couldn’t change their minds, and now… I don’t deserve Heaven. If you think I do, you shouldn’t be a grim reaper, and you shouldn’t be a paranormal executioner either. You don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re up against, what you’re doing, and the world is going to crash and burn around you.”

A blinding light flashes, and Zenzil is gone.

I gasp. Did he turn into a ghost? Did he opt for Heaven after all? The flash had been a bright yellow, not the red or black that accompanies Hell.

But the words he said… that sounded like a prophecy, but yetis don’t give prophecies.

That hadn’t been a prophecy at all then.

No. It had been a promise.

CHAPTER 11

O nce I’ve left my grim reaper façade behind, I realize Adriana has started to shovel.

She means to bury Zenzil.

Here.

It strikes me as so very wrong, but where else can I bury him? His home?

Honestly, I’m not sure we even have time to bury him, but I wordlessly assist Adriana. As I use my sickle to help move the rocks and dirt, my mind races. Where would Sommeil have gone? Why hadn’t they been with the yeti? Not that I want my friends to be injured or dead, but they had gone after Zenzil. Had they found the yeti and he eluded them again?

The harpies. They’re at the center of all of this, and I doubt the sandman would’ve returned to Zenzil’s place. For now at least, my only possibility is the harpy nest.

Unfortunately, that harpies nest now is the roosting spot of a murderous swarm of harpies who have already attacked me.

Ah, yes, but they had been afraid of me.

What if Zenzil had been their first taste of blood? What if they hadn’t killed before him?

Death might not fear the harpies quite so much anymore.

Once we've dug far enough, Adriana grabs the yeti's ankles. I grasp underneath his arm, and we work to get him into the hole. Then we cover him with dirt.

As soon as we’re finished, Adriana looks at me expectantly. “Are you going to say a few words?”

I hadn’t planned on it, but maybe I should.

“Zenzil, wherever you are, I hope you find peace.”

The oracle blinks her strange eyes. “You don’t know?”

“Not for certain.”

“But he’s gone.”

“From this very spot? For the moment at least.

“He might be a ghost?”

“Yes.”

Adriana hangs her head.

“You should return to Headquarters,” I inform her.

“I can’t.”

“You physically can.”

“I won’t,” she clarifies, staring me down.

Let me tell you, nothing can be more unnerving than a stare down from an oracle.

“Adriana, there’s nothing for you here.”

“There is.” She crosses her arms and glares at me. “What did you and Zenzil talk about?”

I shake my head. “I can’t discuss that with you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” she counters.

“I can’t,” I say honestly. “As a psychopomp, I physically can’t tell you what transpires once I take on that duty.”

She blows out a small breath.

“You need to return to Headquarters and let them know what’s going on,” I say.

“While you do what exactly?”

“You don’t need—”

“While you try to track down Sommeil. If you think I haven’t noticed that your partner isn’t here… I’m not blind, Donovan.”

I refrain from making a comment that will really agitate her.

“You know paranormal executioners aren’t to go out in the field without backup,” she says.

“Yes, I know that, but—”

“I work for HEX Unite too. All of us are trained to fight, even the oracles. You’ll need backup if you’re going to go to the harpy nest.”

“How do you know I’m going there?” I grumble.

“I told you I can read you.”

“I can change my mind.”

“You can, but you haven’t.”

I exhale loudly through my nose. “Chances are very high that we’ll be attacked. Do you…”

She is wearing her robe and a light dress that shimmers and sparkles all the way down to her ankles. It’s hardly suitable at all for fighting. And the hiking. And the—

Adriana reaches down for the back part of the skirt. She bunches it together between her legs and somehow twists the skirt into a knot that’s high up between her legs, basically turning the long skirt into shorts. Doing so makes her cloak fall back, exposing the rope belt around her waist that houses far more than just a canteen. She’s armed with a few daggers.

And from behind her back, she reveals a bow and quiver.

“I’m ready,” she says calmly.

“Have you ever fought in a real battle?” I explode. “You have to be quick, have to react without thought. If you hesitate, you could be killed. I could be killed. A real battle isn’t anything at all like what we trained for. The training, we know we’ll come out of it alive, but with this—”

“I have no fear.”

“Having no fear might even be worse,” I counter.

“Why? You don’t fear death, do you?”

“Of course not, but I—”

“Why should I?”

“I’m not saying you should fear death.” Exasperated, I run a hand through my hair. “I am saying that you need to reconsider this.”

“And you need to stop arguing with me, start to accept that I’m not leaving your side, and take me with you.”

“Oracles aren’t to go out into the field,” I remind her. “You’re to stay safe. If anything happens to you, what will happen to your sister?”

"I might not have saved up quite enough for three years at Magical Hunters Academy, but if she is able to get a scholarship, then she'll have enough. If not, then two years of training is better than none. She will survive. It's what oracles do."

“Oracles survive, huh? Some would say that’s because they cheat.”

She says nothing and doesn’t blink, just appraises me silently.

I critically assess her blank face, but I can’t read her.

“Have you seen your death?” I blurt out.

“What if I have?”

“You won’t die in the field?”

“No.” But she doesn’t sound very confident.

Because her confidence is shot. Her vision about Zenzil had been the complete opposite of what she had seen. Any and all of her visions might be inaccurate, might be flat out wrong.

Including her death.

The fake vision might lead her into having a false sense of security, and she might end up dead at any time after all.

Including on the field this very day.

“Adriana, I don’t think this is wise.”

“And I don’t think you have a choice,” she says with a slight curl to her lips.

“Why is that?” My hand is already reaching for my pouch of fairy dust. I’ll just use it and go…

Not that she doesn’t know where the harpy nest is.

And besides, my fairy pouch is empty.

She holds up her own pouch. “Unless you want me to go on ahead without you,” she asks innocently.

I inhale deeply. “Are you sure you won’t regret this?” I mumble.

“I already regret so much,” she says earnestly. “I need to figure out what is wrong with me. I need to know if the other visions I’ve had will come true or not. Maybe… Maybe my vision was true, Donovan. Did you think about that? Maybe I was just wrong with the time, but can you imagine what it would mean for the future of visions if the future can be changed?”

I swallow hard. “I… I don’t know what exactly that would entail.”

“It would mean that the possibilities are endless! Maybe they already are, and we just didn’t realize it. Maybe things aren’t as fixed as we’ve been led to believe. Maybe we are about to embark on a wonderful quest—”

“No,” I say flatly. “Quests aren’t wonderful. Missions aren’t wonderful. Paranormal executioners have a dangerous job in order to keep the paranormal world safe, but for us to be deployed, that means something horrific has already happened. What exactly are you proposing, Adriana? That we go out and round up the killers before they kill? Is that how we can change the future? Locking up those criminals? But they aren’t criminals, not yet. And why did the harpies turn on Zenzil? How did that end up happening? The exact opposite of what you saw happening. Do you really think that we changed the course of actions so that the antithesis of what you saw occurred?”

“That does seem to be the case, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but…”

"Obviously, that's just one time," she says eagerly, "and don't look at me like that, Donovan. This assignment wasn't the first one I ever gave out. I have been working as an oracle for HEX Unite for almost as long as you've been working here. Actually, I think I started here a year before you did."

“Really? How old are you?” The question just slipped out. “I, ah, you don’t have to answer that.”

“I’m twenty-five,” she says calmly. “I’m a decade older than my sister. Yes, we have the same parents. No, she wasn’t an oops. They decided to have another baby, and they did.”

“I didn’t ask all that,” I protest.

“No, but you’ll be surprised at how utterly rude people can be. I didn’t mean to suggest you were, but…”

“I’m twenty-three,” I murmur. “So you’ve been an oracle for two years longer than I have.”

“In my seven years here, I’ve never been wrong,” Adriana says earnestly. “The first two years here, you’re an underling. You are partnered up with another more experienced oracle, and they check over your visions to ensure they’re right. I even discovered a few things that my mentor missed. Trust me, I know what I’m doing. For something to be off like this…”

“Do you think something is happening to all oracles?”

“I can’t think that,” she says. “Maybe it’s just my magic. Maybe I’ve discovered a way to tap into a different branch of time, not the timeline that is fixed and rigid, but the ones that aren’t set yet.”

"Maybe there's always been the two sides," I muse. "Maybe the oracles have always tapped into the aspects that can't possibly be changed. Maybe there have always been another set of visions that haven't been ever seen before that pertain to the events that can be altered."

“After all, there are crimes and murders the oracles don’t see ahead of time,” Adriana says eagerly. “Maybe we’re right. This could be huge, Donovan! It might change everything!”

“Go on back to Headquarters and see what you can find out,” I urge her.

“Nice try,” she says with a smirk. “You aren’t going to that nest without backup, and right now, your only backup is me whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t,” I mumble.

She huffs a sigh. “I know you blame me for Zenzil’s death, that you blame yourself…”

I wanted to argue with her once she mentioned herself, but I can’t deny the charge that I do blame myself.

“You’re all ready to go then?” I ask.

“I think the more important question is if you’re ready.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask as I stomp over to her.

Adriana glances down at my boots and then up at my face. Without a word, she sprinkles us with fairy dust, and we arrive behind a boulder that looks up at the harpy nest.

A wonderful hiding spot. She is good, and she does see a lot.

But she doesn’t see everything, and that’s the issue.

Before we have a chance to arm ourselves, there’s a wild bird cry. The harpies must have set up guards to eye the surrounding area, and I bring out my scythe but don’t activate it. Right now, I’m not here to take on sixty harpies or even just one or two of them. All I want to do is see if Sommeil and Zanatre are around.

But if they have guards, they probably aren’t currently under attack…

Adriana is somehow gliding through the air. She’s spinning like a gymnast, and her twin blades flash and sparkle in the sunlight. As far as I can tell, she doesn’t strike the harpy. Nevertheless, feathers flutter to the ground.

“Come on,” I yell at the nearest harpy. I let her get a peek at my skull, and she shrieks and flies off, wary.

I rush over to Adriana and go to grab her hand, forgetting that she’s wielding twin blades.

“Duck,” she says.

I do as directed, whirling around and bringing up my scythe. I almost cleave a harpy into two.

The harpy screeches and veers off, and I snatch Adriana’s wrist. Together, we make a mad dash toward the nest. It’s not the easiest trek, and the harpies chase after us, but even worse than that is the realization that there really are about sixty harpies. And they’re all looking at us, ready to attack us.

And Sommeil and Zanatre aren’t here.

Worst of all, there’s no sign of them anywhere.

The harpies swoop down on us, but I’m not concerned at all about us. I’m just nervous and worried about my friends. What if they were killed too?

CHAPTER 12

I ’m readying to cleave a harpy’s wing off when all of a sudden, the nest disappears. The entire landscape disappears. Where are we?”

Adriana calmly tucks away her weapons and eyes my scythe. “You can put that away.”

“Where are we?”

“A safe area.”

I glance around. “Are we in a treehouse?”

“Yes.”

“You teleported us to a treehouse.” The treehouse is small but sturdy enough. The wood is completely flat, without any hint of bowing. No water spots either. There’s a small stool in the corner, but no tables anywhere. No toys either. A few faded paintings hang on the walls from worn nails. The windows are a little crooked without any curtains. Sparse. Meager. It’s not exactly the kind of treehouse I would expect kids to be dying to play in.

Not that I expect kids to die over anything.

That is the worst part about my being a grim reaper—the kids. So many of them don’t want to leave their parents behind, especially their mothers.

And the first time I had to reap a soul had been a child of five years old who had died in a car accident. It had been horrible. A freak ice storm. No one’s fault, but the mom… the dad… the boy, Jimmy was his name, he didn’t want to leave them, but I could tell from how broken the parents already were that being haunted by their dead son would have utterly destroyed them. It took a lot of pleading and begging for Jimmy to take my hand, but I led him right up to the Pearly Gates.

I think about Jimmy from time to time and wonder how his parents are doing. Did Jimmy ever get the chance to play in a treehouse? I hope so.

“Fairy dust isn’t precisely teleporting,” she says dryly, breaking my train of thoughts. “Why are you so bothered about being in a treehouse?”

“Let’s just say that the one time I used fairy dust to be in a treehouse, I misjudged, and the entire place collapsed.”

She smiles wanly. I wish she would smile under a happier circumstance. Not that it isn’t a lovely smile, but she seems a bit sad. I want to see a huge smile on her face, one I’ve put there.

“I’m sure you aren’t the only person to do that,” she murmurs.

“Not you, though.”

“No, not me.” She nods to my scythe. “There isn’t a whole lot of room in this place for us and that thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” I protest as I conceal the scythe as a stick.

“Yes, yes. The symbol of your race. Why a scythe?”

I lift my eyebrows. “That’s what you want to talk about?”

“I admit that now might not be the time, but it is something I’ve been meaning to ask you. We can—”

“Scythes have been used throughout history to harvest corn in fields. Grim reapers use the scythe to reap the harvest of souls.”

She shudders.

“I’m sorry I offend you,” I say stiffly. “It’s not as if my duty isn’t solemn or necessary. Earth would be overrun with ghosts if not for us. So many souls would be lost. There are some who are meant for Heaven but end up in Hell, although the opposite never happens.”

“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle,” she murmurs.

“Rich men tend to go on downstairs.”

“Rich men don’t tend to use scythes or sickles to harvest corn,” she comments.

“Yes, well…” I rub my hands together. “Adriana, please, I’m begging you.”

“Donovan, don’t ask.”

“Will you use a vision for the present? To see Sommeil and Zanatre? We have to find them.”

Adriana crosses her arms and shakes her head.

“Why not?” I plead.

“What if I’m wrong again? What if I can’t figure out how to see the present?”

"The present is unchangeable," I argue. "There's no reason to think you would get it wrong. There are no two ways about the future. I am right here with you. No one can see me anywhere else than this very spot. You don't have to be afraid, Adriana. You can do this."

She’s clearly unconvinced, and she stares at the wood beneath my feet.

“It’s either you who’ll look for them or the oracles back at HEX Unite,” I declare. “I’m desperate to know if they’re alive or… I’ll do whatever it takes, Adriana. I think you know that.”

Adriana blows out a breath.

“Don’t tell me,” I grumble. “You don’t have the herbs you need to drink to see the future.”

“Of course I do,” she returns. “I just…”

And she lifts her gaze to meet mine, and I’m shocked by the fear I see in her strange orbs. Is her fear from her being worried about her seeing them? Or is she afraid of what she might see?

“Do you have a canteen?” she asks. “I need water. I used the last of mine to…”

Wash the blood from Zenzil’s face.

I hand her my canteen. It’s only half-full, but she doesn’t seem to mind that. She removes a pouch from her sash and pours the contents inside. She screws back on the lid and shakes the canteen, her lips moving inaudibly.

After she stops shaking, she unscrews the lid again and drinks the contents.

Her eyes roll in the back of her head, wholly white, and she arches her back to the point that it appears painful. Her body convulses once, and she holds so entirely still that I'm afraid she won't ever start breathing again.

But she does, inhaling deeply to the point of coughing. I go to stand beside her in front of across from her, but she holds up a hand to hold me off.

“Did you see them?” I ask, trying not to sound desperate even though I am. Sommeil is a great fighter. There’s no denying that. Zanatre… she’s a killer through and through, but so many harpies…

Silence stretches between us, and I close my mind. My imagination can be terrible, and it chooses to prove that this very second as my mind betrays me and conjures up wicked images of the sandman and the gargoyle dead at the hands—talons—of the harpies.

Adriana stares at me. Or rather it seems like she’s staring through me. I suppress the urge to shudder. What’s going on? Why is she stalling?

What if she can’t find them? What if her vision is wrong? I don’t really see how a vision about the present should be wrong, but so many things have been upside down and inside out right now that I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what we can do if she can’t find them. In my gut, I know they’re in trouble. They’re alive. They have to be.

I really wish I could sense all life forms at all times. Yes, that would be insane, but if I could just have confirmation that they’re alive, at least that would be something. Instead, I’m just filled with doubt and worry. My anxiety is through the roof, and I’m ready to grab my scythe and start to destroy stuff. It’s such a basic reaction, to want to resort to violence, but it’s how I feel.

If I can’t fight to save my friends, I at least want to fight.

But fighting without a legit endgame isn’t all that smart, and even though I’m a paranormal executioner, I don’t fight unless I have no choice. I don’t take lives lightly. It’s only when it’s necessary and the betterment of the paranormal world.

Now, of course, I’m anxious and worried that I’ll be too late, that something is happening to the others now, that they’re fighting for their lives, that by the time we track them down, it’ll be too late.

Zanatre… she’s a fighter, a fierce one. This isn’t her first time outliving a partner, and both times, she managed to kill the target by herself. She’s a survivor.

Does that mean she’ll survive and Sommeil will be the one to fall?

I’ll never forget when I first got into my room my first year at Magical Hunters Academy. The cottage was small, two to a room, and I thought my roommate hadn’t arrived yet. The place was a mess, sand everywhere, and I walked all over the sand, kicking it. I’d just gotten into a massive fight with my parents about my enrolling, and I wanted nothing to do with anyone.

Imagine my surprise when the sand swirled around to form a face. The sand lips came together to mouth, “Boo!” but I just swatted it away, unfazed.

Sommeil emerged from the sand then, hands on hips. “Do you want me to kick you when you’re down?”

“You might want to get in line,” I informed him.

“Why’s that?”

“Because my parents want me to get kicked out of here.”

“Why’s that?” he repeated.

I revealed to him my skull. Most people are appalled by the ghastly sight, but Sommeil just grinned at me, and I couldn’t help grinning as much as a skeleton can.

“I take it they don’t like the idea of a grim reaper being anything but a paranormal hunter, hmm? So if they don’t want you here, you want to be a slayer or an executioner. That about right?”

“You got it in one.”

“They’re making you pay to go here, aren’t they?”

I lifted my chin. “Yes.”

“Do you have enough?” he said frankly.

“That’s none—”

"Let's make a bet," he said. "I bet I'll get a better grade than you in our mutual history classes."

“How much?”

“Fifty.”

I appraised him. I really didn’t have the money to bet, but I was here to win it—to learn as much as I could, which would obviously translate into decent grades, very good grades, excellent grades.

“I’ll raise you. Every class, I’ll hit higher marks than you.”

“That so?” He whistled. “Fine. Half a year’s tuition. How’s that sound?”

If I lost, it would bankrupt me. I’d be out. Even if I could get high enough marks for a scholarship, I wouldn’t be able to attend.

We shook on it.

I won the bet.

Sommeil and I made bet after bet. Not all of them were for money. It wasn’t until we graduated that I overheard him talking to one of his professors about how he’d gotten the highest marks ever for a sandman.

He’d doctored his grades when he showed me his scores.

When I called him out on it, he blew me off, and I’ve tried to pay him back over the years once we started to make money, but he won’t take it. Won’t let me pay for lunches or dinners unless it’s my turn to. We’ll still make bets here and there, mostly for fun.

He's a good guy, through and through. He doesn't deserve to die because everything is messed up.

After Zanatre’s first partner died and she’d been first cleared to return to duty, she had been assigned to work with us for a time. It had been… interesting until it became terrible.

It was almost as if she was cursed.

Curses are real, but who would’ve cursed her?

Not that I need to worry about that.

Unless she really is cursed, and it could affect us…

Adriana touches my cheek, and I jerk back. My fears caused me to block out the entire world around me.

I grip the wrist of the hand touching me. “Did you find them?” I ask.

She nods.

Her silence doesn’t bode well, and I’m right.

“They’ve been captured.”

“Captured?” My eyebrows shoot up. “Not by the harpies then. The harpies would’ve—”

“A boogeyman has them.”

I can’t help laughing.

She draws back and appraises me critically. “You think boogeymen don’t pose a threat?”

“They’re ridiculous! They feed on fear, especially fear of death, but death isn’t to be feared! If anything, death should be celebrated!” I think furiously. “But why is a boogeyman going after them? Unless they’re afraid of something…”

Afraid of dying? Are they in danger of life and limb?

CHAPTER 13

“C an I have the pouch of fairy dust?” I ask.

“Why?” She shakes her head. “You don’t know where they are. You need me.”

“Tell me where they are, and—”

“You want me to go back to Headquarters, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“There isn’t time to waste,” she insists.

"You are refusing to go back? But they—"

“You need a partner,” she says, her eyes almost darkening. “You need someone to watch your back. I already did that for you, with the harpies, remember? If it hadn’t been for me, you would’ve gotten yourself killed!”

“You’re right. I do need a partner, but I’ll take you back and find someone else to come with me.”

Adriana’s nostrils flared. “I’ve never been more insulted in my life. I can fight! I thought we went over this. I’ve been trained too, remember? I’m not just a damsel in distress, and I’m not weak and helpless.”

“I—”

“You don’t even think boogeymen are a big deal, so what’s the issue?”

I suck in a breath. “Adriana—”

Before I can argue with her, she grabs my hands and places my fingers on her temples. Instantly, I can see to her past.

I watch as she defends herself against orcs, trolls, goblins, various shifters, all of it training done at Magical Hunters Academy. I know because I recognize the training room. There's no fighting out in the real world—well, the paranormal world. Nothing that's life or death except for the bit with the harpies with me, but that had been more running for our lives than actively fighting and then using the fairy dust to get away.

But then I see her in a ring, squaring off against a minotaur. I’m not sure when or where this is, but it’s more recent than the academy. I know that much.

The minotaur grins at her, paws at the ground, and then races toward her, his head lowered, his horns glinting in the sunlight. They're in a field of some kind, and he kicks up grass and dirt. That's how fast he's racing down on her.

But Adriana calmly sidesteps him, drops to one knee, has her bow up and in position, and fires. Her reflexes are amazing, and then she's tucking her bow onto her back and grabbing her blade. She holds it up, knocking a spear away, a spear I hadn't even realized the minotaur threw.

Is she using her power to see what the minotaur is going to attack her with before it even happens? That would be brilliant!

They continue to go at it for some time, with Adriana countering everything, blocking his every move, or just flat-out embarrassing him. He doesn't leave her much time at all to launch a counter-attack, but she is trying.

I guess it's a stalemate, but then the images from her mind shift, and I can sense her and somehow just know I'm witnessing her first-ever vision. It's a whopper of a vision, of a town being utterly destroyed by a yeti. It's knocking down huts, throwing trees through buildings, killing people… It's utterly terrifying for me to watch. I can't imagine what Adriana must've thought because I can sense that she's young, very young.

The images shift, and I can somehow see Adriana as a seven-year-old girl who is scrambling out of her bed and rushing to her parents. Oh, had her first vision come to her as a dream?

“Mommy! Mommy!”

She barrels into a room and shakes the arm of a sleeping woman barely visible beneath the blanket.

“Adriana?” her mom murmurs. “Go back to—”

“But, Mommy, I—”

“You heard your mother,” her dad grumbles. “It’s well past your bedtime and—”

“But I saw something! A yeti is going to come! He’s going to destroy the village!”

With a groan, her mom sits up, and I would’ve gasped if I had been able to.

I never thought about it before, what with oracles always being females, but her mom isn’t an oracle.

Her mom is a boogeyman.

Her dad sits up too. He’s a boogeyman as well. They both have grayish skin tones, their lips all twisted and scarred. Their skin was a bit melty, and their eyes glowed eerily in the dim light of the room.

Adriana looked nothing like them. Even then, she appeared bright. Her skin was porcelain, and she resembled a doll.

“You had a nightmare,” her dad says. “You don’t need to worry. There isn’t a yeti who would dare to come here and take on our village. We’re safe.”

“But, Daddy, I know what I saw!”

“I’m sure you saw something scary, and I told you to stop talking with the other boys. Whenever you do, you tend to be skittish.”

“A skittish boogeyman.” Her mom shakes her head. “Who would’ve ever thought?”

Can’t they tell she isn’t like them? Or are all boogeymen children beautiful and grow up to look more frightening?

“I’m not skittish,” Adriana protests angrily. “I don’t want you to die! I don’t want—”

“We aren’t going to die,” her mom assures her.

“I don’t want anyone to die, and the yeti will destroy the entire village!”

“There’s no way that one yeti could possibly destroy our entire village,” her dad says.

“It’s my turn to take her back to bed,” her mom says, getting ready to climb out.

“I’ll do it,” her dad says. He pats the mom on her back. “You’ve been working hard lately.”

“Kids won’t scare themselves,” she murmurs as she settles back down.

Adriana just shakes her head violently and avoids letting her dad take her hand. “You don’t understand! I know what I saw!”

“So you said, but nightmares can be very vivid.”

"It wasn't a nightmare," she says stubbornly.

“Nightmares can seem like they’re real, but—”

“No, Daddy, you aren’t listening to me!”

Her dad scoops her into his arms. His fingers are claws, and a bit of black smoke swirls around his hands and his neck. He’s honestly a bit scary to look at, and I don’t scare easily.

He deposits his daughter onto her bed and pulls the cover up to her chin.

“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep,” he says.

“You don’t have to.”

“But the yeti—”

“Isn’t coming until tomorrow,” Adriana mumbles.

“Sure he isn’t.” Her dad chuckles. The sound is rather off-putting.

Adriana feigns sleep, and her dad leaves.

Time speeds up, and now, it’s morning. Adriana chokes down breakfast. I’m not sure what it is, but then she races through town. The buildings are all huts made from wood and mud and sticks. Some of the huts are large enough to house several rooms, and I can spy tiny faces peeking out of one of the largest huts.

The kids all race out of the hut to hurry up to Adriana’s side. They all look like her, so I guess boogeymen don’t look scary right from birth.

“Adriana, wait up!”

“Where is she going?”

“Why does she look like she wants to scare someone?”

“Her parents are some of the scariest boogeymen ever!”

“I scared my baby brother yesterday. Don’t I look more like a boogeyman today?”

“Nah.”

“You’re just jealous.”

There’s a crowd of six or so boogeymen children chasing after her, but she ignores them, heading to the hut that’s in the middle of the village. Although someone stands outside and tries to stop her, she marches on in.

Inside is a huge room. A few boogeymen are inside, and they all fall silent at her intrusion.

“Little girl, you need to—”

“I need to talk to you,” Adriana says calmly. She draws herself up as high as she can, but the boogeymen have already turned their back to her. “A yeti is coming, and he will destroy the town!”

“One yeti?”

The boogeymen look at each other and laugh, and Adriana just shakes her head. Slowly, she leaves the hut.

The kids circle around her.

“What did you say to them?” one of them asks.

“A yeti…” Adriana trails off as she stares into the distance. “Who wants to play a game? Let’s play a game.”

“Let’s play shadow tag!”

All of the kids start to squeal and turn into wisps of shadows.

“No!” Adriana actually stomps her foot. “We’re going to play hide and seek and—”

“I’ll be it!”

“I’m it,” Adriana growls. She might be only seven, but right now, she is intimidating, and the other kids scramble to run away.

She doesn’t stand around and count. No, she races back to her house and snatches her baby sister. Then, she returns to the spot where she sent the kids off from and just stands there, staring off into the horizon. Her sister is somehow sleeping peacefully in her arms, completely ignorant as to what’s to come.

A speck appears, a tiny blip that grows larger and larger. Eventually, I realize it’s a yeti, one that’s enraged, and sure enough, he’s heading straight for the town of boogeymen.

By the time the boogeymen realize what’s going on, at least a dozen huts have been pulverized. Adriana stands in that same spot there, watching the horror and chaos that she already witnessed. When she hears a faint shriek, she springs into action, still holding her sister, and finds one of the children she had sent off to hide. She covers his mouth and darts him away, collecting more children as they went and scurrying them off to the southeastern edge of the town, hiding them behind a large boulder.

The dozen or so children remain there with Adriana, weeping softly, the lot of them, all but Adriana. Even her sister is awake and crying now, but Adriana has no tears, and she seems years older than her age. Her eyes, that’s when her eyes change from normal with black pupils to pupils that are hardly visible and that disappear entirely into white when she has visions.

I’m not sure what happens to the yeti, but eventually, Adriana must realize it’s over because she stands.

“We need to go,” she says quietly, picking her sister back up again.

“I want my mommy,” one of the kids says.

“I do too, but there’s no need to look for them here,” Adriana says calmly. “They’re in Heaven.”

“But do boogeymen go to Heaven?” a boy asks.

“What happened?”

“Our town!”

“Mare’s Meadow has been destroyed!”

“Yes,” Adriana says in that same tone. “A yeti came. He destroyed the town. He killed our parents, but—”

“Our parents?” a boy cries.

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you!”

Adriana tries to stop him, but he runs away, back to the village. The other children trail after him, and Adriana just stands there, on top of the boulder.

One by one, the children return, heads down, silent tears streaming down their faces.

The last to return is that first boy. He stares up at Adriana.

“You knew!” he spits out. “You knew this would happen. That’s why you had us play hide and seek!”

“I saved your lives,” she says.

“You should’ve saved our parents too!”

“I tried,” Adriana says miserably. “I told my parents. I told the leaders. No one believed me.”

“If you had told us, if we told our parents, maybe they would be alive!”

“I didn’t want to risk your disbelief,” Adriana says. “If you didn’t believe me, if you didn’t hide, you would be dead too, and I… I wanted to save your lives. I tried to save them. Don’t you think I wanted my parents to survive? Of course I did! But they didn’t listen, and they’re dead, and I just… No one believed me, and I didn’t want to be the only one to live, so no, I didn’t tell you. But you’re alive. You can be angry with me all you want, but you’re alive. You’re alive.”

CHAPTER 14

A driana pulls my fingers from her temples, and the connection to her mind severs.

“Is that supposed to make me side with you and your wanting to come along? No way, Adriana.” I shake my head vehemently. “That’s all the more reason not to bring you along! It’s a boogeyman who has them, right? What if he’s one of those children you saved all grown up?”

“I hate that you’re questioning my loyalty,” she hisses. “My loyalty is to the cause, and it always has been. I have given years of my life up for HEX Unite, the same as you. You don’t have any right to toss me aside and just use me for my magic and act like I can’t possibly help more than just my visions.”

“It has nothing to do with your—”

“No?” She crosses her arms. “You don’t think I can handle this.”

“I think that we’re past the point of being able to do this on our own. We need HEX Unite to know—”

“Donovan,” she says quietly, “we don’t have time.”

Her saying time makes me look at my watch. My seeing into her mind took only seconds.

“Sommeil and Zanatre need backup, and they need it now. Besides.” Her eyes flash a bright white. “I know where they are, but you don’t, so either you take me or else I’ll be the one to go alone.”

“You strike a hard bargain,” I grumble as I take her hand.

She whisks us away to a beach. I take one step away from her on the sandy dune and hesitate.

Bobbing up and down in the water is Sommeil. He's trapped in a cage that's half-submerged. He's half-dunked, and he can't get away from the liquid. It always struck me as strange that Sommeil wanted to come here for his vacation. I mean, I get it. Who doesn't like to swim and stretch and recline under the hot sun and spend time relaxing and not trying to kill anyone? To be utterly carefree.

But water and sand don't mix, not when you're a sandman. Sommeil can't use his powers when he's wet because wet sand is softened sand, and softened sand can't be controlled.

Where’s Zanatre? It takes me a moment to locate the gargoyle. She’s trapped in a cage as well, but she’s within a water spout that is pummeling her with water. The spray is harsh enough, wild enough, insane enough to actually erode her. If she were to take on human form, she would drown in seconds.

I’m absolutely appalled and livid, and I shift my gaze from the water to the shore. Where is that dastardly boogeyman?

I don’t see any sign of him anywhere, and I take a few steps. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Adriana stiffening, and I turn toward her to see the boogeyman standing next to her. It’s not until I spy the large sack draped over his shoulder that I recall the sacks sitting in front of the bed in her parent’s room.

“Well, well, well.” The boogeyman gives us a chilling smile. His face is grotesque and twisted, and I almost wish he would use his shadows to disguise himself some because he really is the stuff of nightmares. “You’ve come for them, haven’t you? I knew you would come.”

Is he talking about me? Or about Adriana? Which one of us does he want and why?

“Who are you?” I demand.

“Don’t you want to know.” He chuckles without mirth, the sound as chilling as it is horrifying.

“Release them,” Adriana says, her tone sharp to the point of almost being cruel. She doesn’t sound like herself at all.

“As you wish.”

The boogeyman holds up his hands. He brings his claws in to make a fist, only his entire hand dissolves into a black misting swirl of smoke that then spirals out in two directions, snatching Sommeil and Zanatre right out of their cages. I can't see either of them through the mist but the smoke heads straight for the boogeyman's open sack. The sack doubles in size on his back as the smoke dissipates and his hand becomes visible again.

“Are you satisfied?” he asks in a mocking tone.

“Release them at once,” I demand.

“Ah, but I don’t think so,” the boogeyman states. He ignores me and appraises Adriana. “You have a touch of boogey in you, don’t you? Your parents are boogeymen, aren’t they?”

"Leave her alone," I spit out. I discreetly pat my inner pockets. I've been practicing with a bladed boomerang lately, and I do have it, but I'm willing to bet that a boogeyman's sack isn't a typical sack. The blade won't work on it, and if it does, by some chance, actually manage to cut the sack, chances are too high that I'll also cut Sommeil or Zanatre. Normally, I wouldn't be too concerned about that. Sommeil can heal from most things fairly easily due to his being able to turn into sand and reforge his body, but not enough time has passed for him to have dried off. If he's wounded right now, it'll last.

As for the gargoyle, she has to be in an incredible amount of pain right now, but I couldn’t hear her cry out from the agony she suffered, and that worries me. Water wore her down for how long? Surely enough to have done lasting damage. She can’t heal like Sommeil can. It’s not as if she can just add rocks to her gargoyle form.

The boogeyman waltzes around Adriana, smirking the entire way. “You might think you fear nothing, but you and I both know that isn’t true. What is it? Tell me about your parents.”

Adria doesn’t react at all. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t twitch. Doesn’t blink.

But he knows. He stops short and smiles, leaning in close so that his nose almost touches her cheek.

“Your parents are dead, aren’t they? I suppose that’s a good thing, but they wouldn’t want to see their daughter face off against one of their kind because you aren’t like us, are you? You don’t know what it’s like to draw strength and power from fear. It’s a pity, really, how weak you are.”

“She’s not weak,” I growl out.

Adriana looks at me and then away, and I realize then she’s barely said two words since we’ve arrived. I’m probably giving the boogeyman ammunition by talking, revealing bits and details about my person and my personality that you don’t want a so-called master of fear to know.

So I clam up. So far, the boogeyman is ignoring me, but I doubt he’s not paying me any attention. If he’s been able to capture two skilled paranormal executioners, he’s strong and cunning. He’s no slouch.

Just like that, he draws away from Adriana and focuses on me. I swear I feel no fear, but that’s not true. I do feel fear, not for myself but for my friends.

“You’re wondering if they’re alive, how much air they have in my sack, don’t you? You don’t realize what the sack really houses, do you?” He tilts his head toward Adriana. “You should’ve warned your friend about what a boogeyman can do, or didn’t your parents bother to teach you? I bet the sight of you sickened them until they died. I bet they cursed your name too because you, yes, you…” He wags a claw at her. “You’re the oracle, aren’t you? The one who couldn’t save her town.”

I do my best not to react, but I can’t help but stiffen. So he is one of the boogeymen children she saved. She saved him so that he could grow up and use his life to terrorize as many as he could, including Sommeil and Zanatre, and rage overwhelms me to the point that my hand falls to my stick.

"Go ahead and try to claim my soul, grim reaper," the boogeyman says idly. "I don't fear death. I have no fear."

That’s a lie. It has to be a lie.

But it’s also a big, fat clue.

The boogeyman is trying to learn my fear, Adriana’s fear. He wants to prey on us.

Maybe that’s what the sack is for. He captures a few beings and keeps them terrified all the time so that he has a constant supply of fear.

"You can't feed on one person's fear, can you?" I ask. "That's why you took them both."

“Or maybe they’re bait,” he says smugly. “I’ve never tasted a grim reaper’s fear before.”

He has a snake for a tongue, not literally, but that’s what it looks like. As he licks his lips, I try not to gag.

How would he know about me? Is he tracking us? Watching us? Does he have a connection to the harpies? Or to the yeti?

Hmm. Sommeil and Zanatre had gone after Zenzil. Somehow, they ended up in the clutches of a boogeyman. How did that happen?

“You want to taste my fear?” I ask boldly. “Go ahead and try. There’s nothing for you to taste now, is there?”

“Ah, but I can make you afraid. Very easily.”

“I don’t fear death.”

“No?” He chuckles.

“Not pain either.”

"Ah, not to you, I suspect."

I don’t dare react to that, but he has a good point there.

"But that's all right, grim reaper. I'll come back to you." He eyes Adriana, who has become as still as a dying tree. She's trying to stand tall, but she's already wilting. Why? Just because he brought up the town? Maybe he's not from that town, or he is, and she recognizes him and is afraid of what he did all because she saved him. If not for her, the yeti would've killed him, and we wouldn't be in this predicament.

But we are, regardless of if he’s from the town or not. He might recognize her and be using the ordeal against her just because he’s trying to needle her.

Which he clearly is.

I take a step toward her.

Maybe he realizes that I want to try to give her some encouragement because the boogeyman wraps an arm around her shoulder and draws her in closer to him and away from me.

“Your parents cast you aside, didn’t they?” he murmurs.

“They didn’t.”

“No? From what I heard, they didn’t listen to you.”

So he’s not from the town.

“You saved others,” he continues, “but none of the parents. How does that make you feel?”

“I did what I could.”

“Did you?” The boogeyman brings his face close to hers, and I want to punch him. Maybe I should.

We need to make him feel fear.

“I saved who I could.”

“You played a game of hide and seek,” he continues, and my heart drops. He had been there.

And there’s a hint of resentment to his tone that makes me wonder if he hadn’t been one of the kids.

“Who do you think killed the yeti?” he hisses.

Adriana does not cower from him. “Thank you.”

The boogeyman hisses. “You left me to die.”

“I saved lives.”

“You were weak.”

“I was seven.”

“You are a disgrace.”

“I don’t care what you think of me. Do you want applause?” She claps. I never knew it was possible to clap so sarcastically before, but it’s amazing. “I said it once before, but thank you.”

“I don’t want your thanks,” he spits out. Saliva lands on her cheek, but she doesn’t brush it away. The sight revolts me. “I want to taste your fear. I want you to realize how terrifying it is to see your dead parents lying on the ground before you, to stare down their killer, and to find the courage and strength to kill that monster. Not just any monster. An enraged yeti.”

He’s trying to be intimidating.

Not trying.

He’s succeeding.

I’ve seen an enraged yeti in person. I’ve fought one.

I’ve run away from him.

The boogeyman before us isn’t that much older than Adriana. At the most five to ten years older, so he’d been twelve to seventeen when he took down a berserker-like yeti.

He’s not going to be an easy foe to take down.

Plus, we still have that murderous swarm of harpies to deal with too.

Today is the worst day of my life, and honestly, I’m not entirely sure I’ll survive.

CHAPTER 15

A driana slowly nods. “Barath.”

"Ah, so you remember my name! Isn't that so very precious of you, Adriana?"

“Tell me, did you go after them because of their connection to me?”

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he taunts. "Your friends aren't faring too well, are they? I have to say that I thought you might not come in time."

I stare at the sack, watching it, hoping it'll jostle or move or show some sign of life, but there's nothing. It's a massive sack, but I just don't see how both Sommeil and Zanatre can be inside it.

“Are you worried they don’t have enough air?” Barath throws back his head and roars with sinister laughter. “Don’t you think your boogeywoman friend, here, would have let you know if there was anything to worry about? No, no, suffocation is the least of your friends’ worries.”

The boogeyman leans closer toward me and winks.

“They aren’t even in this dimension.”

My heart skips a beat. “The pocket dimension,” I mumble, recalling what I’d been taught. “But that’s just a theory!”

“All theories are based on facts,” he says, pointing a finger.

“Not all theories are proved correct, though,” I snap.

“Maybe the pocket dimension is real. Maybe it isn’t.” He reaches for his sack. “Do you want to head on inside to find out?”

I ignore him, but that seems to be precisely the wrong thing to do. I keep waiting and hoping for Adriana to take the lead, to help us out of this bind. Who knows boogeymen better than she does? But she doesn’t, and the monster pounces.

“I know all about you and your kind,” the boogeyman says triumphantly.

“You know grim reapers all that well?” I ask dryly.

“Actually, I know you and your type,” Barath amends. “You’re afraid of losing your status as a paranormal executioner, aren’t you? And then all of those fights with your parents and the other grim reapers would’ve been for naught because you’re just a terrible, worthless, ignorant grim reaper. Oh, wait. I forgot to mention murderous.”

“It’s not murder,” I say hotly.

“Oh, yes. Because executioner is such a better term for it. My bad.” The boogeyman snorts. “Not only do you fear losing your job, which would make already losing your parents that much worse, but you also fear losing your friends, don’t you?”

I hate Barath. I hate him so very much.

Because he’s right. He nailed all of my fears in one fell swoop, and what’s worse is that he holds the lives of two of my friends in his hands. If anything is to happen to Sommeil or Zanatre, there’s a very good chance that I could be demoted or even released from my employment. I really could lose everything.

Just like that, the icy tendrils of fear creep around my heart like some kind of terrible vine. It squeezes hard, and I can’t breathe.

“And you, Adriana, you who thought you were so much better than the rest of us because you saw a vision that came true, a terrible, horrible one… What does that say about you that your first vision was of the destruction of your entire town?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” she mumbles.

“What wasn’t? The destruction of the town? You couldn’t convince anyone to leave? Not one? Those children you managed to help survive… They all witnessed terrible, horrific things. They should thank you, though, because if they hadn’t survived that, they wouldn’t have become the terribly awesome boogeymen that they are now.” He flashes a repulsive grin. His teeth are like tiny daggers, small pointed black blades.

Adriana squeezes her eyes shut.

“HEX Unite usually knows better than to interfere with boogeymen. We don’t kill. We will, however, take at times, but we don’t kill. We’re not evil like that. Can you blame us for being hungry from time to time?”

“Eat a Snickers,” I snap.

“Oh, we don’t get hangry, “he says offhandedly, “but we do love to gorge ourselves on fear. It has the most delicious taste, sweet but salty…”

Seriously?

“And you’re worthless, Adriana,” he continues. “You’re a pathetic excuse of an oracle. Worse than that. You’re a sham. A nothing. A nobody. You couldn’t even help to save your friends so they wouldn’t be captured by the likes of me. What does that say about you? You’re insulting, weak, and vulnerable.”

My eyes narrow. I really hate the way he’s getting under my skin, but there’s something far worse getting on.

Not so much his skin but his size.

He’s growing stronger. He’s far more muscular than when we first came here.

He’s legit feeding on our fears, and it’s making him stronger and stronger.

We have to stop helping him. We have to try to rise up against our fears and take him down.

My gaze shifts to the sack, and the boogeyman notices. “Don’t you worry,” he coos. “I can sense your friends’ fear and fed on theirs even as I feed on yours. Can’t you tell?”

I ignore him and eye Adriana. She needs to see a vision of the future so she can determine how we defeat this thing.

Defeat it.

Should we kill him? Probably not. He's right that boogeymen aren't typically executed. Not all boogeymen will kill. They might terrorize, yes, but they don't tend to murder people, which is why their lives tend to be spared.

But if they’re pulling this kind of activities, to erode away a gargoyle and nearly drown a sandman… That’s going far too far.

I stare at Adriana hard enough that she finally looks my way. I try to communicate wordlessly that she should do a vision, but she doesn’t seem to catch my drift.

Well, for now, I can try to buy her some time so that she can use her magic if she decides to. Otherwise, maybe she can attack him.

“You’re wrong,” I inform Barath.

“I’m never wrong.”

“I don’t care if I lose my job.”

“That’s a—”

“It’s not a lie,” I say smoothly. “There are more important aspects of my life.”

“Such as?”

“My hair.” I run a hand through it. “My locks are a signature look.”

It's not like my hair is as long as Sommeil, but it is longish on top, so I can have it brushed back. Channeling the smooth talker sandman, I grin at the boogeyman.

“You can feign control all you want, but I know what you fear. Maybe I should make you live out that fear,” Barath says, reaching for his sack.

My heartbeat starts to race. Why am I becoming afraid? Why can’t I turn to anger instead?

“Adriana,” I hiss and narrow my eyes at her.

She’s just standing there, a strange glint in her eyes, but she’s not having a vision. Her gaze shifts from me to the boogeyman. He’s gotten into her head, hasn’t he? Can he talk to her in her head? I’m pretty sure that boogeymen can influence dreams, but she’s awake.

Oracles, though, aren’t like the rest of us. They belong to magic and time, and if all of time is a timestream, a timeslip… Aargh, I can’t recall everything I’ve been taught about oracles! Or boogeymen for that matter. I never thought a boogeyman would be able to induce fear in me. It’s not an emotion I readily feel.

But my friends are in danger, and as long as the boogeyman has the sack—

What if he didn’t? What if I could take the sack? I could free my friends…

Not that they're in any position to attack and help fight back the boogeyman. If anything, it's almost better that they're in the sack, so Barath can't do anything worse to them.

What am I supposed to do?

Despite his words, the bogeyman is no fool, and he knows he has leverage right now. He leaves my friends in the sack and eyes me.

Without a word, Barath’s face morphs, changing to resemble my dad’s. It’s uncanny and even a bit frightening to see my dad’s face with that body.

"Donovan," the boogeyman says while wearing my dad's face and stealing his voice, and I straighten. How does he know my name? "You're a disgrace, an abomination. Grim reapers have a code! We're not supposed to judge others! We're psychopomps, and that's all we are. Our duty is sacred, and you are tarnishing it!"

I swallow hard and retreat a step. My dad said those exact words to me.

The boogeyman. There’s no doubting it. He’s inside my head.

His face alters, and he takes on my mom’s. The speech she gave to me had been just as cutting and painful as my dad’s, but hearing it again now cuts me to the quick. Even as I watch and listen, I cower away. Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to cry, and that’s when I see just how strong and powerful and massive the boogeyman is becoming.

Again, he alerts his face, this time turning into other grim reapers who insulted me when they don’t even know me at all.

Worst of all, though, is when he takes on the face of Daisy, a human girl. Another car accident victim.

Yes, it’s possible for humans to turn into ghosts at times.

She’s the first person I hadn’t been able to help, that I hadn’t been able to guide her soul to Heaven.

She’s still a ghost to this day.

“You failed me,” Barath says in Daisy’s voice. “I can’t find any peace. There’s no light at all, only darkness. You cursed me to this existence, and I hate you!”

Hate.

It’s a strong emotion, one of the most powerful there is.

Love conquers it, yes, but hatred can conquer one particular emotion rather easily.

Fear.

Hatred and anger.

My scythe is in my hand by the time Barath has altered his face to Sommeil. Before he can even start to heckle me as my partner and best friend, I swing the weapon. I don’t dare to activate its magic. I don’t want to risk hitting the sack, but the boogeyman just grins at me as his face returns to normal.

"The grim reaper finally wants to fight, hmm? The grim reaper wants to taste blood. Go ahead and try, but I can still feast on your fear!"

Barath brings up his hand to ward off the blow of the scythe. His hand actually catches the blade.

It doesn’t draw blood.

He just grabs the blade and nearly wrestles it out of my hand. His strength is immense. It’s incredible.

I stagger back, the weapon still in my hand, but I get the feeling he would’ve been capable of yanking it out of my grasp if he’d tried.

He’s toying with me. There’s no doubting that.

I’ve been a fool for not fighting him from the start. Fear and concern for my friends’ safety stilled my hand, and that fear added to the fear the boogeyman teased out of me. He’s been gorging himself on fear—my fear, Adriana’s, Sommeil’s, and Zanatre’s.

He’s going to be nearly impossible to take down.

No. No! I can’t think like this!

If I can’t reject my fears, I’ll never win.

But who can live without fear entirely? When you have something you don’t want to lose, you naturally have fear.

Fear is natural.

Being brave isn’t.

You have to fight to be brave.

Because the thing is, being brave isn’t the absence of fear.

It’s fighting despite the fear.

You’re still afraid.

I’m still afraid.

I hate the boogeyman, yes, but I hate him because of what I’m afraid he’ll do.

The fear isn’t going to go away, not entirely.

Which leaves me where exactly?

On the losing side.

CHAPTER 16

Barath zooms large, and I stare up at him. What can I do? If the scythe won’t even cut him, where does that leave me?

And that’s when I realize that I’m thinking about how I can finish him.

Kill him.

I haven't been assigned to kill him, but HEX Unite hasn't seemed to see us. It's as if we're in some kind of blind spot or something. The oracles can't see everything that's happening.

Or maybe they have. Maybe they’re just waiting for the boogeyman to kill us before they send a team of paranormal executioners in to take him down.

If he even can be taken down.

Because this boogeyman is incredibly powerful. I’d been afraid of the yeti when he’d been enraged, but this is something else altogether.

“Do you think you can survive?” Barath taunts. “Your friend here, the oracle… She’s paralyzed by fear. Isn’t that just… delicious?”

And he licks his lips again as if he can taste her fear.

It’s not right or fair for me to be worried about the rules decreed by HEX Unite. My life and the lives of my friends are on the line. I need to do whatever is necessary for us to survive.

But the boogeyman is just using us, merely toying with us. He wants our fear. He wants to keep us alive.

For what purpose? What is his endgame?

All of this talking, all of it… He doesn’t want to fight.

Because I can win? Or because we mean more to him alive than we do dead?

How much room is there in that sack of his? Will it continue to grow if he shoves Adriana and me inside?

I’m done with this. I’ll fight as best as I can. I’ll try to wrestle the sack from him. I’ll probably leave the two in there for now for their protection. And then… if the boogeyman leaves me no choice, then I’ll kill him.

I don’t care how HEX Unite will view it. If my life is on the line, if my friends’ lives are on the line, then I will do what needs to be done.

But I’m almost paralyzed myself because Adriana does seem to be paralyzed. She’s not doing anything. She’s just standing there, and it’s unnerving, but at least the boogeyman isn’t trying to fight her. She’s not having a vision as far as I can tell, but she still seems to be in a trance of some kind, and if he were to fight her, I’m not sure she has it in her to defend herself.

Which means I have to protect her and save the others, all while combating not just Barath but also my fear.

No biggie, right?

With two hands, I grip my scythe, and I feign slashing him but instead head to his left and then slice again, this time lower, aiming for his knees.

Barath merely steps backward.

I press the attack, sweeping and slicing, but all I ever cut is air. He’s merely sidestepping my blows, and I can’t get close enough to him. This brutal dance is going to end in one way only—with my becoming winded and worn down.

And dead.

Dead.

Death.

Do grim reapers ever have to help one another when it becomes their turn to die? Because I have so much unfinished business to attend to.

And just like that, the spark and fire and the will to live save me. I've been a fool to try to rely on hatred and anger to get me through this.

No. I need drive, determination, and will.

Sheer will.

That powers through fear more than anything else ever could.

I hack and saw and slice toward the boogeyman, but I’m no longer using the full of my might behind every single, rather just going through the motions easily, making it look like I’m going to wear myself down. Instead, I’m looking for an opening, a chance to get on through.

Without meaning to, I glance over at Adriana. She’s staring at the boogeyman, shooting daggers into his back.

Which isn’t going to help us in the least. Not unless she had physical daggers, and even then, the sack is covering his back.

Again, if we could just get the sack away from him…

I continue my pursuit of the boogeyman. He continues to harass me, taunt me, but he’s not fighting back, just evading. My concentration on the battle increases, and I can feel my fear ebbing away. He’s still just as strong as before, though. Does that mean the fear from Sommeil and Zanatre has increased? What if one of them perished in the sack? That would cause the other’s fear to go through the roof.

I can't think about them right now, or else I'll risk falling back into a downward spiral of my own fear!

And then, the boogeyman no longer evades.

He starts to counter.

The first time he blocks hard, I’m afraid my scythe is going to shatter. Considering it’s a curved blade, that’s saying something. I continue to press, but even without a blade of his own, he holds up just fine, using his arms as if they’re blades, halting my weapon with his arms without his skin being cut.

What wizardry is this? Even demons aren’t this powerful!

On and on, he blocks and counters, and I have to defend as much as I do block. His hands reach out, and he goes to grab me. I drop down and throw out a kick, striking him right in the knee.

The blow should’ve shattered his kneecap, but he just walks it off and lunges, almost grabbing me. I stagger back to avoid him and go down hard onto my rump. Stupid sand made me twist my ankle.

"Barath," Adriana says in a sing-songy like voice.

He stiffens and glances her way, which gives me the time to scramble to my feet.

As I watch, he visibly shrinks a little, and that’s when I realize what Adriana has been doing all along. She’s been fighting back, not physically, but at the boogeyman’s core.

I’ve been drawn to Adriana because of her quiet strength, the way she draws herself up, the way she holds herself. Her quiet grace and confidence.

If she’s anything, she’s calm in the face of adversity and throughout her everyday life.

That’s the opposite of fear—calmness and confidence.

Not bravery.

And if anyone can be calm before a boogeyman, she can.

“What is it, you sad, pathetic excuse of an oracle?” he spits out. “You can pretend to act as if you know what’s going to happen, but you don’t because if you did, you would be wailing. He’s going to die. Your friends will remain in my sack for the rest of their lives. Their fear is that delicious. As for you… I almost wonder if I should let you live so that the others of your kind can finally see you for the worthless, despicable fraud that you are.”

He's taking a stab at her confidence or at least trying to, but Adriana just gives him a coy, little smile.

“A fraud, am I?” she asks. “How so? Because maybe I have seen your end, Barath.”

“You wish! I bet you wish you had found me and hid me with the other kids, but the thing is, if I hadn’t stood up to that yeti, he would’ve gone after you, gone after the kids! I saved your life! Yet you turn against your kind. You gave the name of a boogeyman to a team of paranormal executioners just last week! You’re a disgrace—”

“You’re the disgrace,” I say as I swing with my scythe, hoping to cut the sack from his back.

But he whirls around, blocking the blade with one arm. Immediately, his fist flies out and connects with my chin. He tangles our legs and brings me to the ground, his knee on my chest.

This is it. He’s going to pummel me, beat me to a pulp, kill me.

In a near panic, I toss aside my scythe and shove against his knee with both hands, doing my best to turn onto my side at the same time. He shifts and falls back down, and I pull my legs up and out from under him, rocking onto my back and kicking him in the face.

He falls back, and by the time he’s standing, I’ve reclaimed my scythe, and even better, Adriana has her bow out.

Adriana’s arrow goes wide, missing the boogeyman’s face narrowly, but that’s when I realize she hadn’t been aiming for the boogeyman after all.

Her arrow slices through the top of the boogeyman’s sack.

Barath’s eyes grow wide, vicious and cruel, nasty orbs that promise the fires of Hell, but I take Adriana’s lead and slide to the right, aiming for the boogeyman’s backside.

Adriana goes to shoot another arrow, but Barath charges. He doesn’t have a hand on the sack, and he doesn’t need to. It’s seemingly attached to his back like glue as he thunders down on Adriana.

My scythe glances off the sack, though, and the boogeyman grabs Adriana by her throat, lifting her into the air as he chuckles victoriously.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, grim reaper,” the boogeyman taunts. “You don’t know how to kill me, and your fear is only growing. The more you fear, the stronger I become, the greater the chance I’ll not only kill you but also others. Your fear will linger, powering me for quite some time. Maybe I’ll go after your parents, use your face to make them cower. I’ll gnaw on their fear and maybe even their bones. Can you imagine? A world without grim reapers. So many more souls for Hell then. So many more ghosts. Ghosts add to the overall fear in the world. Yes, yes, that could—”

“You talk too much,” I snap as I shove the butt of the scythe into his Adam’s apple.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been struck there, but it doesn’t matter how big and tough and muscular you are. Getting hit there causes some of the worst pain imaginable, and Barath releases Adriana. Her face had been turning purple, but she doesn’t hesitate at all. She knows boogeyman and their sacks, and I don’t know how she does it, but one second, Barath is clutching his throat, gasping and wheezing, the sack on his back, and the next, she’s holding up the sack triumphantly.

Immediately, Barath struggles to straighten, staring at her, his eyes curiously blank.

“A little known fact about boogeymen,” she says breathlessly, “is that if you control their sack, you control them.”

She opens the sack. Out tumbles Sommeil.

Zanatre.

And something else.

A creature with a scorpion for a tail.

A lion’s body.

And a human face.

A manticore.

Before Adriana can do anything about Barath, the manticore leaps forward. They’re vicious creatures who enjoy the taste of flesh, and who knows? Maybe they enjoy the taste of fear because Barath has to be filled with it. He doesn't put up a fight at all, and the manticore promptly kills him.

Without devouring the boogeyman entirely, the manticore turns around, scorpion tail raised, his chin and lips all covered in blood and gore as he advances on us.

Awesome. One foe bites the dust, and another one springs up to take its place.

I really wish I never got out of bed this morning, and to think I woke up with such high hopes too.

CHAPTER 17

T  he manticore is one hideous-looking creature, and that’s saying something considering we just went up against a boogeyman. It’s only now that I look down at Barath’s dead form that I realize just how utterly terrifying his face had become. He had spent so much time wearing other people’s faces as masks that I hadn’t even realized that he looked even more grotesque from absorbing and feasting on our fears.

He would’ve loved this, the fear the manticore is causing to bloom inside us.

“Why was there a manticore inside the sack?” I ask as I bring up my scythe.

The manticore paws at the sand, lowering onto his haunches. He has a human face, but his hair is a shaggy mane, a deep orange/red color.

“I don’t know,” Adriana murmurs.

“You didn’t see how the boogeyman would die, did you?” I ask, motioning for her to get behind me.

Sommeil is hardly moving. I don’t think Zanatre has moved at all.

This isn’t good. They’re weak, maybe even dying, and the manticore is charging us.

My scythe arcs through the air again and again, hoping to force the animal back, but he continues this way. His mouth opens, revealing twin sets of razor-sharp teeth, all stained with blood, and I have to hope none of that blood belongs to Sommeil.

Just as the manticore leaps at me, before my scythe can cut him, a claw snatches me up out of the air.

It’s Zanatre. The gargoyle has not just me but Sommeil too. She can barely fly at all, and I grab a dagger from my jacket and throw it down near the manticore to distract him from his course. The monster is heading straight for Adriana.

So are we, though. Zanatre’s flying is a bit half-hazard, but we’re making a somewhat zigzag beeline for the oracle. I reach out with my hand.

Our fingers miss.

“Turn back,” I direct.

“I can see that,” the gargoyle snaps, and she makes a slow, lazy turn in a circle to come back around.

This time, we're much lower, and this time, Adriana's arrow doesn't miss. It strikes the manticore's face, on the left cheek, and slows the beast down enough that I can grab for the oracle's hand. She wastes no time sprinkling us with dust, and the next thing I know, the gargoyle isn't holding me anymore. I'm on my feet for only a second before a hand touches my elbow, jerking me off balance, and I fall to the ground and land on my rump again, only I'm not sitting on the sand. I'm on dry, rocky terrain.

The Wilds.

Not near Headquarters, though.

The Wilds is a barren wasteland. It’s the perfect spot for a secret headquarters. We don’t want humans snooping anywhere near our Headquarters.

Adriana is staring at the pouch in her hand. “That’s it,” she murmurs as she tucks away her bow. “I’m out.”

“Thank the moon,” I mumble.

“You sound like a werewolf,” she says as she tucks the pouch away.

“Werewolves aren’t the only ones who look to the moon for guidance. When you think about death, you think about the sun setting on a person’s life, right? The moon is what comes next.”

“Yes.” She closes her eyes a long moment and shudders.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I’m exhausted,” she says, and she sways a bit. “It was so much easier to physically fight Barath.”

“Easier than…” My body is sore all over as I force myself to my feet. “Easier than what?”

She closes her eyes, but I get the feeling she’s rolling them. “You thought I was just standing there, didn’t you?”

“I…”

“Boogeyman can operate on different levels, and yes, they can get in people’s minds. While he was talking and fighting with you, he was also talking and fighting with me, just not physically. In my mind. I had to stand my ground.”

“He did talk to you some aloud,” I say, “but that wasn’t all of it?”

"If only. A few words wouldn't make me lose everything, but he was very powerful. He had a way of twisting my mind, so I couldn't see a vision even if I wanted to. He made me doubt everything about myself as a person, and—"

“I’m glad you all fought him,” Sommeil mutters, “but do you two think you can be a little quieter? I have a headache that is like a hammer hammering into my temple. I can’t stand it. I just… I need silence.”

Adriana wanders over to the gargoyle, who is lying sprawled out on the ground.

Sommeil eyes me and nods. “You can talk but quietly. Think you can manage that?”

I snort as I sit beside him. “I’m not the one that has two volumes—loud and louder.”

“Haha. Well?” he asks, checking himself over for injuries, wincing when he notices a particularly deep gash.

“Why on earth do you want to go to the beach for your vacation when water is your weakness?” I ask, baffled. The sandman is still dripping wet.

“Oh, come on, man. Who doesn’t like to walk on the wild side now and again?”

“Wild side? Is that what you call it?”

He looks off into the distance, growing thoughtful for once. “A vacation isn’t supposed to involve a boogeyman.”

“No?” I shift slightly to eye Adriana. “Did you know her parents are boogeymen?”

“No way.”

I flinch. “Were,” I mumble.

Sommeil lifts his eyebrows. “Oh.”

“Yeah, but seriously, I bet you’re looking somewhere else entirely for that vacation. Colorado? Hit the ski slopes?” I ask to change the subject.

“Nah. I want the beach. I’ll go to the beach.”

“Why won’t you change your mind? Just being stubborn as a bull because you have rocks for brains?”

“Yeah, you’re funny, Death Guy. I’ve never heard that one before. If I have rocks for brains, you have a death wish.”

“I definitely do not wish for death,” I murmur.

Adriana looks beautiful, but more than that, she looks strong even though she’s clearly moving in a way that shows she’s trying to respect her body’s limits. It’s as if the boogeyman did manage to fight her physically anyhow despite their altercation being mental.

I never knew she went through so much. She’s lost her family to death, not necessarily because of who she was. More like she outlived them because of her being an oracle.

And me? I lost my family, not through death, but through my living my dream and following my passion. Grim reapers aren’t meant to judge the living or the dead, and I still stand by the conviction that I don’t. I will maintain that belief until I die.

But now there’s a new wrinkle in that. HEX Unite has been the one to unleash the executioners onto the paranormal world. They decide who lives and who dies, who is sent to Magical Prison and who is sent to Hell.

And I’ve been listening to them without thinking, without blinking.

I told myself I’m making the world a better place.

And I was.

Only now, I don’t know if that’s the case. Is something tampering with Adriana’s magic? Is she the only oracle affected?

How did she see Zenzil kill the harpies when the harpies killed the yeti instead? So backward, but is that going to always be the case with her visions, that she sees things incorrectly? We can't assume they'll all be the opposite, and what if other oracles' magic has gone haywire too? We haven't been back to the headquarters, and it's possible others might not have realized yet.

Which means that maybe the oracles have sent out paranormal executioners to execute someone who shouldn’t be.

But that’s only if this is a widespread matter. Maybe it isn’t.

We should probably head back to Headquarters and get this all sorted out.

Although there is the murderous swarm of harpies to consider…

I eye Sommeil, who's running a hand through his wet hair and grimacing. He's still soaked yet, soaked to the bone. Zanatre hasn't said or moved much at all. In fact, she's just laying there as if she collapsed in a heap, and maybe she had. Flying us like that so we could use the fairy dust in her condition…

She’s probably the strongest person I know, and that’s saying something.

The sandman seems to not be in danger of dying anytime soon, so I cross over to the ladies. Zanatre doesn’t open her eyes or respond to my presence at all.

“How is she?” I murmur.

Adriana shrugs.

“I’m fine,” Zanatre grumbles without moving more than her lips. “Leave me be.”

“You want to sleep?” I ask.

“I don’t want to move,” she admits.

I sniff and scowl. Gargoyles are made of stone, yes, but they bleed, and I smell blood.

Despite her protests, I touch her arm and help her to sit up, and that’s when I see just how badly the erosion had damaged her.

“She’s in no condition to do anything,” I say. “Headquarters—”

“Is several miles away,” Adriana admits. “I panicked and just thought the Wilds. I wanted to get away from the manticore, and I didn’t want to be right on top of Headquarters either…”

“We’re out of fairy dust,” I mutter. “Not that she’s in any condition to survive another jump.”

“I might be able to,” Zanatre says, but she’s wheezing.

“Whether or not you can doesn’t matter.” I straighten. “I’ll go.”

“Walk the miles back to Headquarters?” Adriana asks.

“Why not? Or would you rather you go?”

“I’ll go,” Sommeil states. He stands, sways a bit, and then smirks at me.

“You look like you had a bit too much fairy punch,” I remark.

“Who says I didn’t? There was more than a few things in that sack.” Sommeil glances away, a shadow crossing over his features.

“Was it… Was it really a pocket dimension?” I ask.

Sommeil shrugs. “I don’t know what it was, but…” He holds up a pouch.

Zanatre scowls. “Thief.”

“You shouldn’t have mentioned it to me if you didn’t want me to know about it, darling.”

“No one likes a man with sticky fingers.”

“That so?” He wiggles his eyebrows, grinning broadly, looking more and more like his normal self.

Before any of us can respond, he’s gone.

“He really does love to push himself too far,” I murmur.

“He knows his limits,” Adriana says.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Zanatre comments.

“Yeah, I beg to disagree there,” I say. “The stories I could tell!”

“Go ahead,” Zanatre pleads even though her voice is a bit weak.

"Nah. If I do, you won't be able to help yourself, and you'll needle him about it, and then he'll share stories I might not want to be shared… allegedly share stories. Not that I'm saying there are stories for him to share about me.”

“Mmm hmm.” Adriana doesn’t sound convinced.

I shrug one shoulder, grinning lopsidedly. My scythe… where is it? Ah, there, as the stick. I must’ve dropped it when I landed.

Quickly, I cross over to retrieve it and tuck it away. By the time I make it back over to the ladies, Zanatre is nodding off.

“Let’s let her sleep,” I murmur.

Adriana nods, and we walk a little bit away so we can talk without disturbing her.

“Well, I’m just happy that you saw how to get out of that situation,” I tell her.

She snorts. “I saw all right. I saw the sack and remembered the lore of the boogeymen, my people.”

I hesitate. “Do you still consider them your people?”

Adriana crosses her arms and takes a step away from me, turning so she almost has her back to me. “I suppose not. My connection to them… It’s basically severed. After my parents died… After everything that happened to the village…”

“What happened to the children you saved?”

A wince causes her body to tremble, and she hangs her head. “I didn’t do enough,” she murmurs. “I never once thought about the teens. I told so few people, and I—”

“You were seven,” I say firmly. “You told your parents, and they ignored you. You told your leader or whatever. He didn’t listen. What were you supposed to do? That you saved anyone at all is a miracle!”

“It doesn’t seem that way. What if another boogeyman survived and harbors resentment? Barath was the strongest boogeyman I ever saw!”

“He had a lot of fear to feast on,” I point out, “and he had a manticore tucked away! I wonder how he managed to accomplish that and to what end.”

“My guess is that he might have been using the manticore to help frighten people, but maybe the manticore ate the people too fast…” Adriana shrugs.

“You won’t want to peek into the past?” I ask.

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head.

“You don’t have to be worried,” I say.

Adriana just rolls her eyes, and I have to say that I appreciate the gesture. She’s not letting me gain an inch.

“I don’t exactly want to see a manticore eat anyone or to see a boogeyman inspire fear.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s not exactly quality entertainment.” I smirk.

“I so don’t want to know what you would do if you had oracles powers,” she says with a laugh. “Try to find quality entertainment, I’m sure.”

“You never thought about checking in on any one person to see what he… or she was up to?”

Man, that was so not smooth. Maybe I do need Sommeil to give me some flirting tips. The yeti never once showed a blade.

Zenzil. I actually feel sorry for the yeti, and I close my eyes, mourning him. I still don’t know everything about him and the harpies, and I might never learn the truth, but I am sorry he ended up dead. He didn’t deserve that, and I feel terribly guilty for the role I played. Sommeil and I helped to make him paranoid, to scare him, to fight him. Who wouldn’t fight back when squaring off against a team of paranormal executioners?

“Donovan?” Adriana calls, and I have the feeling she’s been saying my name a few times now.

“I’m sorry.” I offer her a wan smile.

“If you want me to look into your future to see…”

My heart starts to pound. Is she willing to see about our future? Do we have a future? Because learning about her past makes me like her all the more. We have a lot more in common than I ever would’ve thought. Granted, my parents are still alive. They just act like I’m dead to them, but we have both lost people who meant a great deal to us. I still want to learn about what she did after the yeti destroyed her home. Who raised her?

But when she continues, my wan smile crumbles into a frown.

“…and see about you and your parents—”

"There's nothing to see," I grumble. "I've tried countless times over the years. They made it very clear that when I left home to attend Magical Hunters Academy, that I was no longer their son. They don't even recognize me as a grim reaper. One time, a cousin of mine actually tried to help a soul that I was already assisting. He acted like I wasn't even there, and the worst part of all was that we almost lost the soul to Hell because of his interference."

“Donovan, your parents—”

“Don’t see me as their son anymore.”

“But you still see them as your parents, don’t you?”

I flinch, thinking about the stack of small presents I've collected for their birthdays, anniversaries, and Christmas. I even bought my mom a small porcelain bunny in a basket with eggs for her to sit out at Easter. They're all collecting dust in my closet. I should just dump the lot of it on their porch without a tag or card. That way, they can still have it.

Either that or just donate the stuff. Someone might as well enjoy the items.

“You know the saying beauty is in the eye of the beholder?” she asks.

I can’t help it. I crack up.

She lifts her eyebrows.

“Sommeil said that to me last. In reference to harpies.”

Adriana opens her mouth, tilts her head, and then seems to reconsider as she shakes her head, smiling softly. I’ve asked her questions she hasn’t answered, and so has she.

“I thought you weren’t going to share any stories about Sommeil,” she says with a teasing tilt to her head.

“Maybe just this one…”

CHAPTER 18

Sommeil takes his sweet time returning. In fact, I’ve dozed off and slept for hours. Adriana took the first watch and then woke me. We doubt anything or anyone will come up to us now, not when we’re close to Headquarters, but none of us can forget about that swarm of harpies.

The sun is just beginning to rise when I debate waking Adriana so I can get a little more sleep. Before I can do more than stand and stretch, she’s already sitting up.

Without any warning, Sommeil appears a few feet away, and he’s not alone.

The woman beside him is in a deep green dress that falls to her knees. A belt cinches it, and there's a sheathed dagger tucked by her right hip. Her hair is cut short in the back, really short, with long, sideswept bangs in the front, her strands a dark brown. Her eyes are a sparkling blue, a shock compared to her lovely sepia coloring.

I’ve never seen her before and have no idea who she is, but she’s lovely. I can’t deny that.

“Come on, Simone,” Sommeil says, grabbing her hand and bringing her over to Zanatre. “You have to heal her.”

"Her has a name," Zanatre says, a bit grumpy.

Oh. I hadn’t even realized the gargoyle was awake, but that’s a good sign, right? That she’s awake?

“Don’t you worry a wee bit, Beau,” Simone says, her French accent thicker than Sommeil’s. She pats his arm. “I will save your partner. Don’t you worry none.”

Beau?

I glance at the sandman. He seems to be entirely healed, which is wonderful, but why did he take so long to return? Had he been terribly off, too, and had hidden it better?

Simone kneels beside Zanatre and tsks her tongue. “You must be in great pain. Je suis désolé. I only need to…”

The healer's hands turn a bright shade of purple. As she waves her hands above the gargoyle, her lips moving even though she utters not a sound, her palms start to turn darker and darker. Below her hands, the stone starts to merge together to fill in the cracks and crevices.

In no time at all, Zanatre is healed.

“You’re brilliant, Simone!” Sommeil exclaims.

“Brilliant?” The gargoyle snorts. “She’s a healer. She healed me. What’s so brilliant about that?”

“You were near death,” Sommeil says.

“Then isn’t it a testament to my strength that I didn’t die considering you took your sweet time coming back?” Zanatre snaps. She glares at the witch before shooting daggers at the sandman.

“It’s not as if I wasn’t wounded too or anything,” Sommeil snaps.

“It was your fault—”

“Don’t you dare blame it on me.”

Simone glances back and forth between them and then laughs as she goes to fold her hands and then instead settles for touching Sommeil's shoulder. "You two do not need to worry. So long as I am here, you don't need to be concerned with anything. I can handle everything."

“Oh, yeah?” Zanatre asks dryly. “Do you think you could handle a boogeyman?”

“I have not gone up against one, no, but—”

“The guy tortured us,” Zanatre states as she alters into her human form. Most of the time, in the field, she’s always her gargoyle self, so there’s something almost unnerving about her being her human. It’s almost as if she feels threatened by Simone, as if she’s gearing up for a different kind of fight altogether.

I wish I had popcorn.

"If your mental health has been—"

“My mental health is just fine,” Zanatre states, lifting her chin.

Sommeil chuckles.

“What’s so funny, Sandy?” she snaps.

“Nothing much.” Sommeil continues to laugh.

Zanatre holds out her hands. “Why don’t you tell them all what happened?”

“No thanks,” the sandman says easily.

“Why not?” she demands, hands on her hips as she glares at him.

“Because I know you, and you’ll interrupt every two seconds.”

“Oh, dear, that’s so rude,” Simone murmurs under her breath.

“Shut your lips, sister,” Zanatre growls.

Simone blinks a few times as if appalled. I think it’s an act, though, but I don’t know her well enough to be sure. “I do not feel appreciated. I have used my expertise to heal you, and not even a thank you did I get.”

“I’m sure Sommeil made you feel appreciated all right,” Zanatre shoots back.

“Actually, not yet, but there will be plenty of time for that later, don’t you agree, Sommeil?” Simone asks.

Sommeil spreads out his hands, grinning broadly. “I do what I can.”

“Except when you don’t,” Zanatre states. “We were going after the yeti, right? But then Sand-For-Brains here had the great idea that we should return to the yeti’s house. So we did.”

“Look, we needed to know where the yeti might have gone, and it was a logical place to check out,” Sommeil says. “You thought it a good idea at the time.”

“What is it that they?” Simone says, waving her hand around.

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” I supply.

“Yes!” Simone grins at me.

Zanatre huffs a sigh. “So we go there, but the yeti isn’t there.”

“What did happen to Zenzil, by the way?” Sommeil asks.

“Who is the one interrupting whom every two seconds?” Zanatre mocks.

“It’s a legit question!” Sommeil says.

“The yeti’s dead,” I mutter.

“Did you kill him?” Zanatre asks.

I shake my head. “No, and what’s worse…” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “He was murdered.”

“By the harpies?” Sommeil guesses.

“No stones,” Zanatre says with a gasp. “Well, that explains a bit.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sommeil argues.

“Wait. Didn’t the oracle say that the yeti killed the harpies? But those harpies killed the yeti instead?” Simone touches her temple as she shakes her head. “My, oh, my.”

“How much did you tell her?” Zanatre gripes.

“She needed to know the truth,” Sommeil says.

“No, now she’s involved!”

“She saved your life. Of course she’s involved!”

“I didn’t ask for her to!”

“That’s because you’re too stubborn to ever admit when you need help!”

“Oh, is that so? You’re infuriating because you do that exact same thing!”

“Aha! So you do admit you do it too!”

That actually gets Zanatre to stop and gape at him. “Seriously?”

I cover my mouth to hide my snickering. I really should try to get them to stop, but this is hilarious.

I clear my throat. “Zenzil wasn’t at his house.”

“The boogeyman was, though,” Sommeil says.

“Why?” I’m baffled.

“Maybe… Can boogeymen sense fear?” Zanatre asks. “Smell it? Maybe the yeti had been in fear enough at his place to lure out the boogeyman. He might have been lying in wait, hoping the yeti would return.”

“But instead, he found you guys,” I say, glancing at Adriana. She’s staring off into the distance, not paying us any attention. The questions they’re posing, she has the answers to, but I suppose I don’t need to bother her with it now. If she can steal a moment of peace, I’m inclined to leave her be so she can enjoy it.

“Yes, and he got the jump on us, let’s just say,” Sommeil mumbles.

“I find that very hard to believe,” Simone protests. “You are so very strong and brave—”

“It had nothing to do with being strong or brave,” Zanatre says. “Boogeymen have been feared by children for centuries, but adults should fear them even more so. After all, adults have far more to lose than children.”

“I suppose that is so,” Simone states, “but what can a sandman like yourself be afraid of?”

“He’s afraid of the dark,” Zanatre says, suddenly changing from her harsh tone to a more bantering one.

“The dark? I never would have thought that,” Simone muses.

“Yes, he doesn’t like to be touched in the dark.”

Sommeil is noticeably silent throughout this exchange. Had it been quiet in the pouch? Had they been able to see each other? Hold hands? Try to comfort one another? Or had they been kept in separate locations within the pocket dimension? If that is real…

I’m almost more inclined to believe they had been separated somehow because they hadn’t had to face off against the manticore.

The sack. It’s still back there, isn’t it? Had the boogeyman captured anything else inside it? What other horrors might we have freed?

“The dark can be so romantic, though,” Simone is saying.

“I prefer to kiss with the lights on,” Zanatre states.

“Why would you want that?” Simone asks.

“If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, why not let him behold me?” Zanatre smirks.

“Have you ever seen a beholder?” Simone asks.

Zanatre rolls her eyes. “They aren’t real.”

“Just because humans think they are merely a made-up fictional creature for a silly game—”

“Hold up. You aren’t mocking Dungeons & Dragons, are you?” Zanatre asks.

“Oh, have you played? How… quaint.”

“Listen here, witch, if you think—”

“Beholders aren’t real, Simone,” Sommeil states quietly.

“No? You might want to think again,” Simone states, brushing her bangs to the side. “Just because you haven’t seen one doesn’t mean others haven’t.”

“There are creatures that the humans have thought up that don’t exist,” Zanatre protests.

"Humans also don't seem to understand how wonderful, wild, and crazy life can be. So very thrilling," Simone murmurs, "especially when you consider who you can spend your days and nights with." She reaches for Sommeil.

The sandman breaks out into a wide grin. “Life certainly has a habit of becoming even wilder and crazier whenever Zanatre is around, that’s for sure.”

“What about me?” Simone asks.

"What about you?" Zanatre asks, sounding triumphant.

“Wilder, crazier, and deadlier,” Sommeil adds.

“Who wants death around?” Simone asks with a shudder. “It should be more than enough that your partner is a grim reaper.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” I say dryly.

“Oh, no, darling. It’s not a bad thing. You watching over Sommeil gives me such peace of mind.”

“That so?” Zanatre asks. “Funny how you seem to care so much about Sommeil, but he’s never once mentioned you before.”

“Why brag about being with the most skilled healer in two centuries?” Simone winks at Sommeil.

Zanatre opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, Adriana approaches. One look at her has my fingers curling into fists. My stomach tightens too. She does not look like she has anything good to share. In fact, she looks paler than normal, as if she’s terrified.

“I hate to interrupt,” Adriana says in her soft, quiet way, only her words also have an uncharacteristic edge to them. “We have a problem.”

“When don’t we have a problem?” Zanatre asks.

“Seems like you have a problem with me,” Sommeil counters, “so that’s on you.”

“On me? Or on you because you—”

“Guys, please.” I shake my head and roll my eyes. It’s clear as day what’s going on here. Zanatre likes Sommeil. She’s jealous of Simone. Maybe she doesn’t even realize she has a crush on Sommeil.

As for Sommeil, it's impossible to say if he's ever serious about a girl. He's dated in the past, nothing serious, no one relationship lasting longer than a few weeks. He doesn't want to be tied down. He can turn entirely into sand, you know? He's completely flexible, fluid. Consistency and stability just aren't for him.

As for Simone? I don't know the witch, so I can't say, but maybe she's a flirt like Sommeil. Maybe they have a past and dated at one time. I can't say to any of that, but if they did date, it had to be when Sommeil was in his early teens, before Magical Hunters Academy, so basically, it would be ancient history.

Zanatre makes a point of putting her back to the others and facing Adriana. “What’s going on now?”

“The harpies have killed again,” Adriana utters.

My heart skips a beat, and I hate that my first inclination is to question her, to demand to know how certain she is that this vision of hers is accurate when her last one hadn’t been.

On the other side of the scythe, I’m thrilled she’s using her powers at all. Maybe it was just a fluke thing before. I mean, she had been able to locate Sommeil and Zanatre, and that had been huge. Yes, that had been the present and not the past or the future.

Just as this is the present.

There’s no reason to doubt her.

“Your magic,” I start, but she just closes her eyes briefly and sighs.

“Look at your phone,” she utters.

Confused, I pull out my phone. So do the others, and I realize there's been a news release on supes.com about how a flock of harpies has gone after selkies.

“Are they killing them?” Zanatre asks.

“Killing some, but not many,” Adriana states grimly.

“What’s their endgame?” Sommeil asks.

“The articles suggest they might be stealing some of the seal skins,” I say slowly, horror dawning. “If that’s the case…”

“They might be trying to forge an army, even through coercion,” Adriana finishes for me.

CHAPTER 19

“We can’t just go ahead and use fairy dust to take us to the harpies,” Sommeil states.

“Why not?” I demand.

“Why not? Maybe because we’re clearly in over our heads,” Sommeil spits out. “Look around us! We’re in the middle of a barren wasteland—”

“You want us to just stick our heads in the sand, don’t you?” Zanatre shakes her head. “Come on now. Don’t you want to impress Simone?”

Simone crosses her arms but does give the sandman a coy smile. Her cheeks look a little redder now than it’s normal reddish-brown hue.

I wearily rub my forehead. “Sommeil, we are all together now, and we even have a healer. You have more fairy dust, don’t you?”

“That’s immaterial—”

“He does,” Simone speaks up. “And I do as well.”

“See?”

“Sixty!” Sommeil explodes. “There are sixty harpies and who knows how many selkies they now control because their skins were snatched. We can’t possibly face that many by ourselves!”

"It says here that they're still at Aquilina Isle," I read out loud. I eye the sandman, who is completely dry. "Don't tell me you don't want to go because of the water."

“I’m not all dry yet,” he complains.

To prove it, he holds up his arm. The sand is thick and clumpy, and I’m not sure what he’s trying to do with it, but it moves slowly, clumsily, not at all like the delicate tendrils of sand he usually manipulates.

“We don’t have a choice,” I say firmly. “How do we know that we didn’t screw everything up? Maybe Adriana’s vision was only a mistake because it was the future and not the present or the past. Maybe the yeti killed the harpies during an enraged state, but we altered his mental state and made him paranoid. We attacked the harpies—”

“Without meaning to,” Sommeil mutters.

“How did that happen?” Simone asks innocently.

“Ask Dr. Death here.” Sommeil jerks his head toward me.

“Not important right now,” I say grimly, not wanting to get into every detail of the past when we have so many other more important matters to consider. “My point is that we riled up the harpies. We put them on edge, and because of us, Zenzil is now…”

“Dead,” Sommeil finishes for me.

I hang my head. It weighs heavy on my conscience that he's now a ghost. We're responsible for that, and we have to help him in any way that we can.

“We don’t need Simone to come with us,” Zanatre says.

“If we’re going up against sixty harpies and selkies, then we need a healer,” Sommeil argues.

Zanatre turns to me expectantly.

I shrug. “I tend to agree.”

“Can she even fight? Or does she just have healing abilities?” Zanatre asks. “Because if she can’t fight, someone’s going to have to babysit her instead of covering each of our sixes.”

Somehow, a javelin appears in Simone’s hand. She whips it, and the weapon lands directly in front of Zanatre’s boot.

“I only miss when I mean to,” Simone says in her accent. As cocky as can be, she walks over and retrieves her weapon.

“What about fire? Water? Can you manipulate water to keep Sand Boy here dry?”

“I appreciate your concern for my safety and well-being,” Simone says smoothly, “but I assure you I can take care of myself. No one will need to, what did you say? Babysit me? There is no need.”

Zanatre just shakes her head, glaring at me.

I hold out my hands defenselessly. I can't help thinking about the legion that helped to take down Cain. "The more, the merrier. But it might be helpful to know all of what you can do, Simone. Do you have any elemental abilities?"

“A touch,” she says.

That doesn't seem too promising.

“Can you do spells?” I ask eagerly. A locator spell would be so grimly awesome right now.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

Zanatre snorts. “Just heal, huh?”

“I will not slow you down, and I will be every bit an asset as you, Zanatre,” Simone says angrily.

“Well, then, if we’re all ready…” Adriana holds out her palm toward Sommeil. “We should probably make sure we each have some fairy dust so that if one of us gets into too much trouble, we can come right back here, to this very spot. Zanatre?”

The gargoyle nods and turns her fingers into her rock hand, complete with claws that she uses to gorge the wasteland, defacing it with an "X."

“I don’t like that there’s five of us,” Zanatre murmurs.

“Sommeil and I will take care of each other. You ladies will stick together,” I decide.

Zanatre and Simone both eye Sommeil. As much as I wouldn’t mind partnering up with Adriana again, I think it best if the party of three remains the females.

Adriana, Sommeil, and Simone ensure that everyone has some fairy dust. I hold out my hand so we can get ready to go, and we slowly form a circle. Zanatre stands beside Sommeil and me, but she won't take either of our hands.

“HEX Unite, they never let news like this hit the paranormal web,” she murmurs, lifting her gaze from the ruined ground. “Why this time?”

“If we want to go, we need to get going,” Sommeil says.

“It’s likely HEX Unite will send another team of paranormal executioners after the harpies,” Simone adds.

"A team won't be enough," I say, shaking my head. "Not against so many. It won't even be easy for the lot of us, but we have to do this. We caused this." My gaze falls on Adriana.

She stares back at me with her unsettling yet beautiful eyes. “Harpies can be vicious, yes, but they don’t tend to act like this. They don’t steal seal skins to enslave selkies. Not normally. Something about this whole thing is very, very wrong.”

"Do you think the harpies might have done something to cause them to, I don't know, be more powerful? Is it possible the harpies interfered with your magic somehow?" I ask.

Adriana shakes her head. “Oh, I don’t think so. An oracles magic draws on the fabric of time and the strands of life. All of life is a tapestry, and when we die, our thread is cut.”

“But if we become a ghost,” Sommeil starts.

“A new thread starts then, one of many, depending on if you go to Heaven, Hell, or become a ghost. Your body dying does not mean the end for you.” Adriana blows out a breath. “I can’t say what happened, why everything was so mixed up, but I will say this. I will learn why that happened, and I will fix it. I will make things right.”

I squeeze her hand. Yes, I made sure that she’s on my other side.

“Don’t you worry,” I tell her and then glance around to everyone to let them know I’m talking to them as well. “We all will make things right.”

CHAPTER 20

A quilina Isle is a beautiful island filled with rocks and no land structures at all. Many seals lounge about on the various rock formations, but there are just as many selkies in their human forms, clutching their seal skins as they shout and argue with one another.

“It’s not as if we haven’t had enough issues as it is with Queen Jamala—”

“Don’t even mention her by name.”

“Why would you even still call her queen?”

“She’s a disgrace to all selkies.”

“We should just be done with her and her brother.”

“Done? What do you mean by that?”

“Send them off to Quarigon, the waves of the sea dragons. Let them do onto those traitors as they will.”

“We aren’t going to do that.”

The last comes from the only level-headed one of the bunch, a female who doesn’t look old enough to command the respect that she does.

It doesn’t surprise me that she’s the first to notice our group. Her eyes widen, and then her nostrils flare, and she shakes her head.

“You know, once upon a time, the selkies were a very peaceful race,” Adriana murmurs as the selkie female hops and jumps her way over to us, moving as gracefully through the air as she must in the waves while wearing her seal skin.

I wonder which the selkies think of as their true form—the seal or the human. My guess is the seal.

“Not that long ago,” Zanatre says.

“Not that long ago what?” the selkie asks.

“Lock them up,” one of the angrier older men who spoke earlier suggests.

“We aren’t going to start to lock up everyone who comes to our land,” the female states, sounding almost exasperated.

“We should’ve done that with the harpies,” the man grumbles. “Nothing good ever comes from those who can fly.”

“That so?” Zanatre asks with a smirk and a fun glint in her eyes. She’s human, but I have a feeling that prejudice against those who can fly just might make her switch over to her gargoyle self.

“Why are you here?” the female asks. “Now isn’t exactly a good time.”

“We’re here because of the harpies,” I start.

A crowd forms. Even the seals turn to watch.

Not so much a crowd, actually. More a growing mob.

I swallow hard. “Ah, not on their behalf. We’re from—”

"Let me guess," the female says dryly. "HEX Unite. Too little too late. The harpies killed a dozen. Tell me, for as great as HEX Unite is supposed to be, why is there still so much violence? Why were a dozen selkies allowed to be killed? Why was another dozen allowed to be kidnapped and controlled through their skins? This is an outrage, pure and simple."

“We can’t just go out and kill—”

“Of course not. The grim reaper doesn’t want to kill.” The same man from before rolls his eyes. “You’re nothing but a pretender, Grim. I heard about you. You pretend to be a paranormal executioner—”

“Pretend? That’s rich. I’ve executed far more than you can believe,” I say coolly.

Adriana shoots me a glare and steps ahead of me. “What Donovan is trying to say—”

"Donovan?" another selkie cuts in. "Dark Warrior. That's what your name means. I thought about calling my son that, but I don't want him to be touched by darkness. That name is cursed."

“You can call me a dark warrior if you want,” I say through gritted teeth, “but I fight to try to maintain peace—”

“Does that even make any sense?” yet another selkie calls out. “How can fighting and peace go fin in fin?”

"We are here to learn about the selkies, and that's it," Zanatre says. "Just point your tiny fins in the directions they flew off in… Did they force the selkies onto their backs to fly away? Or did they have to grab them by their talons?"

“Zanatre,” Adriana hisses, scandalized.

Zanatre shrugs without looking away from the first male to speak to us. She’s challenging, wanting to rile him up when that’s clearly not necessary. All the man does, though, is glower at her.

Sommeil strolls ahead and stops before the female. "I know you selkies prefer peace, so we'll fight for you. How does that sound? We can manage. We have a witch, a grim reaper, a gargoyle, and a sandman." He holds out his hands. "Trust me—"

“What’s she?” a different female asks.

“Can’t you tell, Maren?” the first female counters. “Just look at her eyes.”

“An oracle,” one of the men says flatly. “You did a lot of good for us, didn’t you? Where were you a few weeks ago when we had that… issue… with the merfolk?”

“What happened?” I can’t help asking.

“If you have to ask, you’ll never know,” the man says.

“River, you need to go for a swim,” the first female snaps.

“You aren’t queen, Siera. Just remember that. It’s because of you that we almost went to war with the merfolk.”

“Not because of me,” Siera says through gritted teeth. “Jamala stole my skin and blamed the merfolk on it. In case you forgot, it’s because of a mermaid that the whole deception fell apart!”

“Yes, yes.” The man waves his hand dismissively and stomped away.

Siera eyes the other selkies, and they step back. She might not be their queen, but they do seem to defer to her.

“I don’t understand why you’re here,” Siera murmurs. “You have an oracle. Can’t you see where the harpies are? Why come here?”

“Maybe because I can tell that we are needed here first,” Adriana says smoothly, and I glance at her, surprised. Is she taking a cue from Sommeil? Or is she being serious?

“Your fellow seal people seem ready to take up spears,” Zanatre comments, jutting her chin over Siera’s shoulders.

“Tridents,” Siera corrects.

“I thought merfolk tended to favor tridents,” Simone says, confusion coloring her words. “Do selkies need tridents?”

“Need? No, but that doesn’t mean we can’t use weapons. Considering harpies are in the air, and we are most at home in the water, something has to give. We need long-range weapons…”

“Because you are planning on going after the selkies to retrieve your own,” I say slowly.

“We can’t rely on anyone else right now,” Siera says softly. “Right now, we’re facing so much heartbreak and pain and suffering. Normally, we have always been a race of peace, but Jamala… when she was queen… she caused so many issues and stirred up a lot of hatred and bigotry. I don’t know… No one is perfect, not any one race wholly good, but…”

"Tell that to angels." Zanatre snorts. "I swear, they still think of gargoyles as demons who have turned to stone and watch over people only so they can exploit them or cause them harm of some kind. We aren't demons! We're entirely separate, and…" She trails off when she realizes we're all staring at her. "What? I'm just trying to connect with her! Not everyone's preconceived notions about any singular race are going to be accurate wholly and completely."

“Precisely so,” Siera says, “but Jamala did a lot of damage. The merfolk, for the most part, do not blame us for what happened, not all of us as a whole, but we’re undecided as to what to do with Jamala and Jordan, her brother. They both seek to rule the waters, to take out the merfolk and then the nixes and the sirens… We uncovered a lot of plans within the queen’s—the former queen’s—chambers. The nixes found my seal skin by her seaweed bed, and when we checked the chambers out more thoroughly… what they planned…”

"Being locked up isn't it."

Siera shakes her head. “Especially not because a few selkies think that maybe we should take more currents, have more surf turf. Maybe not rule all of the waters but more, and trying to have a new queen installed… it hasn’t been easy for us lately. Some want to put Jamala to death. Sending her to the sea dragons would ensure that! But I don’t think that is why. Why should we resort to such violence?”

“But now…” I prompt.

"Now with the harpies attacking us, it's that much clearer that we need a firm fin and a guiding light. We need to surge ahead into our next chapter before the tide rises and sweeps us all out to the depths of the oceans where we will never be seen again." Siera shakes her head.

“Maybe you can channel some of that anger you feel toward the almost war with the merfolk and the former queen and use that to help save the dozen selkies,” Zanatre suggests.

“If you team up with us, we can ensure their safety together,” Sommeil adds.

Siera touches her chin. “I would think that best. If some of the selkies would wish to go with you, they should. None should go after the harpies alone.”

“You aren’t going to come,” Adriana states.

“No. As much as I would like to, I think it might be best for me to remain here.”

“You think some of the other selkies might take matters into their own hands with Jamala,” Zanatre says. “Understandable. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

“I don’t know what exactly is right in this scenario,” Siera says dryly, “considering having Jamala around, even imprisoned, hasn’t been going over that smoothly. I can’t help wondering if she is part siren! She’s managed to convince several guards that she’s the victim here, and they have almost been talked into releasing her!” And the others who know about this are the ones pushing for her to be sent to the sea dragons—”

“Are the sea dragons all that terrible?” Zanatre asks. “I’ve always wanted to see one.”

Siera blinks a few times. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you?”

“No stranger than most,” Zanatre says almost cheerfully. “I just like to think that I can see at least one of every kind of creature there is.”

“Good luck seeing a leviathan,” she says. “Or a kraken. There’s only one living, as far as I know.”

“Then maybe it’s a good idea for me to make friends with a selkie,” Zanatre says with a grin.

Siera smiles for the first time. “Most of us all have a bit of strangeness, don’t we?”

“It’s just a matter of finding someone who appreciates and accepts your manner of strange,” Zanatre says with more confidence than she’s shown since the witch she deemed a rival showed up.

As if on cue, Zanatre shoots Simone a glare as if to challenge her level of weirdness.

Simeone, for her part, seems entirely oblivious to the whole exchange. She's staring at Sommeil. No, past him to where several selkies are gathering, armed with spears and tridents.

Siera whirls around. “You’re going with them or not at all.”

A man who hadn’t spoken before nods to her. They exchange a look that makes me wonder if there’s something going on between them.

We quickly do a round of introductions, this time using our names and not just our race. The selkies going with us are Beckett, the tallest of the bunch; Hudson, the hairiest; Wade, the most talkative; Blackwell, the muscular, quiet one and the one I think might be interested in Siera; Reva, the only selkie I can see with blond hair; and Laguna, who looks to be far too young to tag along, but since no one else objects, I say nothing.

“Before you all leave,” Siera says, looking at Adriana, “is there time for a meal? Fighting on an empty stomach is always ill-advised.”

“You aren’t supposed to swim on a full stomach, though,” Sommeil says.

“There are many old wives’ tales,” Siera says.

“Tales or tails?”

“Selkies only have one tail.”

“Ah, but what a tale her life story can be.” Sommeil takes her hand. “I’m sorry you won’t be accompanying us.”

“It’s not as if you’re heading off to a party,” she says as she pulls back her hand. When Sommeil glances at me and shrugs, Siera eyes Blackwell as if to say he’s all yours.

“A very quick meal might be a good idea,” Adriana says in her quiet way.

I slink over to her. “You aren’t going to check and see?” I murmur.

She shudders slightly. It’s almost as if she tried to suppress it.

“When’s the last time you saw something with your magic?” I press.

“Donovan, I don’t want to get into that,” she says.

“But—”

“I don’t trust myself.”

“I do,” I assure her.

“You shouldn’t.”

And she walks away.

“Do not worry,” Simone says, startling me. “Apologizes for sneaking up on you. That was not my intent.” She squeezes my shoulder. “She will be fine.”

“How can you be so sure?” I ask, slowly pushing that shoulder down so she’ll remove her hand.

“Because she merely does not wish to see the future. That is all. She’s afraid to. She believes that so long as she does not see the upcoming battles, they will not happen, but she is wrong. There will be a battle.”

“Just one?”

The witch smiles wanly. “What is life but a series of battles? You fight to eat, to survive, to love, to do any number of things, but only the strongest can outlive it all and die from old age. But there are many deaths and not just on the battlefield. Fear can rob a person of their life. Hatred too. The selkies… they have known much turmoil of late, no? But that does not mean that turmoil is all they will ever know. In the end, they will find peace. Perhaps this is for the best. Maybe they will learn how to be both strong and peaceful.”

“Or maybe they’ll learn how to kill and strive for more power and become exactly what Jamala wanted for them,” I mutter.

"You're a pessimist. Why?" Simone asks.

“How do you know Sommeil?” I ask.

She wags a finger at me. “You are avoiding my question.”

“And you’re avoiding mine,” I point out.

The selkies lay out a meal unlike anything I’ve eaten before. Some kind of strange soup and something wrapped in seaweed. It looks a bit gross, if I’m honest, but it tastes delicious, and that’s what matters.

We eat quickly, and then we gather ourselves and our supplies. The selkies give us some food to bring just in case we’re gone for a long while, and they also give us extra weapons.

I glance around. We're forming a decent legion of our own—the six selkies, Adriana, Sommeil, Zanatre, Simone, and myself. Eleven of us. I almost want to ask for one more selkie so we can be partnered off and have an even number, but I don't.

It's time for us to leave Aquilina Isle, save the captured selkies, and defeat the harpies once and for all before they can do any more damage and take any more lives.

CHAPTER 21

Before I can ask Adriana if she knows where we should head next, Simone hands me her phone.

I glance at her, confused, but it’s Adriana who explains.

“There’s new news,” she murmurs.

“There’s been a development in the case of the foolhardy harpies?” Wade asks. He has dark hair and eyes, and as much as he likes to talk, he also seems to like to hop from side to side. He can’t seem to stand still.

Adriana nods. “The harpies have just done the same with salamanders.”

“Killed some and taken some as prisoners?” Wade asks.

“No, not prisoners,” Sommeil mutters angrily. “They recruited some and killed off the ones who wouldn’t tag along.”

“Now, they have air, water, and fire,” I murmur.

“Are they still at Mount Onyx?” Wade asks.

"If we leave now, we might be able to catch them," Adriana says slowly, "but I really do have to wonder why this is being reported and why the agency hasn't sent a team or two to go—"

“Maybe they already know about us and what we are doing,” Simone says smoothly. “They do not have to worry. We are on the job.”

“I wish this was a paying gig,” Wade says. “For the lot of you, it is, but… Say, how much do you all get paid for working for Hunters, Slayers, and Executioners Unite? Is it decent pay? I bet it’s decent pay. Why haven’t more selkies—”

Siera makes her way over to me. I hadn’t accepted a weapon from the seal people, but when she shoves a jagged piece of coral into my hand, I accept it.

“Wade is a strong, fierce fighter, but if he’s not careful,” she says, her voice rising, “he’ll get you all killed.”

“I know when to shut my gills and clam up,” he protests.

“Can you clam up now?” Sommeil challenges.

“He has to want to shut up or else he won’t,” Beckett says. He’s even taller than I am, and I’m almost six and a half feet tall.

We all laugh, Wade loudest of all of course.

“If you think we should go,” I say to Adriana.

She bites her lower lip. “An oracle might have seen us, yes,” she murmurs as she meets my gaze.

I hate seeing the doubt and concern in her eyes, but I nod to her. We need to get this all squared away one way or another, and time’s wasting, the sand trickling through our hourglasses and those who the harpies have their claws and sights on next.

“Let’s go to Mount Onyx then,” I declare.

As we reach for our fairy dust, Wade mumbles, “Who made him in charge?”

“Didn’t you catch his name?” Hudson’s hair is as long as Simone’s is short. “That’s Donovan Darthe.”

“Wait, the grim reaper turned paranormal executioner? Whoa. He could probably take on those harpies all by himself.”

“No one can take on sixty harpies by themselves,” I mumble and then brighten. “How many did you guys take out when they came here and fought you?”

"It was such a mad scramble and rush, and we couldn't really set ourselves up to attack. Plus, they were stealing skins… We were having a picnic here on the island," Wade says. "It's a special day for us selkies, and we have a part of the celebration in the water and some on the island. We really needed it, you know? To help bolster morale, only…"

“Enough talking, the both of you,” Sommeil interjects. He’s not smiling. “Normally, I like to talk as much as the next guy—”

Zanatre winks. “Race ya there.”

And she’s gone.

And we all rush to follow suit.

Mount Onyx. The name comes from the mountain itself. The ground has been burned away to ashes. The mountain itself is nothing more than molten rock and ashes. There’s not an ounce of liquid here, so anything that catches on fire just burns until there’s nothing left.

Not even teeth or bones.

You don’t even want to know how hot the fire has to be to melt those, but that’s the thing with salamanders. They aren’t just lizards who can breathe fire.

They are fire in lizard form.

The mountain looms before us. We’re all clustered around its base, staring up at it. Despite all of the black from the molten lava and the ash, Mount Onyx is bright with red and orange as the salamanders slither and rush about, crawling everywhere.

“Are they dancing?” Reva the blond selkie asks.

Laguna nods. “Some believe they communicate with each other through their dances.”

“Well, they look a bit frantic,” Sommeil remarks.

“You’d think they might have something to be upset about,” Zanatre says sarcastically.

“Now, wait… They do?” Sommeil asks her with a wink.

“I don’t see any harpies,” Simone says, a hand covering her eyes.

Zanatre holds up a hand and jumps, but Sommeil grabs her wrist.

“Don’t,” he murmurs.

“Why not?” she asks, and I can’t help noticing that she doesn’t jerk her hand free as she probably would’ve if Simone wasn’t around.

Sommeil just nods, and I follow his gaze.

At least two dozen salamanders are zooming toward us, racing down the mountain.

I suck in a breath. To my right, the selkies all stiffen, which I find curious. They’re from the water, so why do they have an issue with fire? But maybe it’s not so much that they’re worried about the fire so much as there isn’t any water here.

“You shouldn’t be here,” a salamander with a frill says.

My eyes widen. I forgot that salamanders can talk. Unlike many others, they don’t have a human form. They’re always lizards with fiery bodies.

“Jiku, look,” says a salamander. Her voice is light but strong and fierce, and she’s the only one to have what looks like blue stones on the back of her hands, her chest, and the center of her forehead. I only know about the one on her chest because she draws herself up and sits on her tail, appraising us. If I have to guess, from that position, she can quickly switch to attack mode if need be.

A salamander with horns shakes his head. “I don’t like that they’re here so quickly after—”

“That’s why we’re here,” I say.

“You want to go after the harpies,” the female states.

“Yes. We were hoping to catch them before they left here,” Adriana murmurs.

If we hadn't eaten… But we can't continue to go on like this, chasing after them, always five steps behind, not taking care of ourselves… If we're going to take on a growing army, then we're going to need to be well-rested and fed. Otherwise, we'll be running on empty.

And in this game, if you're running on empty, you're going to die, and there aren't any do-overs.

There are no continues.

I mean, yes, we might come back as a ghost, but that would be so far from ideal that I don’t want to even contemplate that.

The one with the frill glares at the selkies. “They had some of your kind with them…”

Blackwell bristles, but it’s—surprise, surprise, Wade who speaks. “They stole their skins. They don’t want to fight with those winged—”

“We’re here to save the selkies and to put an end to the harpies,” I say firmly.

“Who are you to judge us selkies anyhow?” Wade continues. “There are salamanders with the harpies, aren’t there? Fighting alongside them? Fighting for them? It’s not as if salamanders can be forced to do anything they don’t want to do, right?”

Actually, that’s a good question.

“What did the harpies do or say when they came here?” Hudson asks, reaching to gather his hair and then tying it back. Once he’s done, I realize he used a bit of seaweed to tie it. Interesting.

The female waves away most of the salamanders, but the one with the frill and the one with the horns remain.

“I am Shyn,” she says. “This is Jiku.” She pauses as the one with the frill nods. “And Duruh.”

He’s the one with the horns, and he flares his nostrils as he says, “They came here and tried to use the selkies to intimidate us, to control us.” He bares his fangs.

“Many who fought back were killed,” Shyn states, and it’s quite clear that the salamanders are deferring to her. Does that mean she’s their leader? Maybe that explains the blue stones.

“The ones who left with the harpies…” Jiku shakes his head, his frill shuddering with the movement.

“They aren’t exactly spying for the harpies, are they?” Zanatre asks.

“That is the hope, actually,” Shyn murmurs, “but I fear for them greatly. The harpies are very strong and powerful, and they are amassing an army for what end?”

“They didn’t say?” I ask, disappointed.

Sommeil snorts. "Of course they didn't." He lifts his chin. "Are you sure all of the salamanders went as spies?"

Jiku and Duruh exchange a look.

Shyn hangs her head. “It is possible some of them seek power. There was a competition to see who would be the champion of the salamanders. I won. Some of the ones I competed with are the ones who left.”

I turn to Adriana. The harpies are either going to continue to add to their army, or they’re going to get ready to launch somewhere. We need to know where to go next.

“If you’re going after the harpies,” Jiku states, “then I wish to go as well. If Maestra de Fuego agrees, that is.”

Shyn turns back around to eye the mountain. “They caused a great deal of damage to our home,” she says.

They did? I couldn’t tell.

“Zo!” Shyn calls.

A salamander instantly slithers over. “Yes?” she answers.

“Oversee the repair work. Jiku, Duruh, and I must go.”

“As you decree,” Zo says, drawing out the “S” in as.

“You all want to fight back, huh?” Zanatre asks. She cracks her knuckles. “Me too. Now, we just need to know where to go next.”

The others reach for their phones or gaze at Adriana, but I’m stuck thinking about everything that’s been happening. Now, the harpies have air, water, and fire, but so do we. All I can think about, though, is what’s next?

CHAPTER 22

A driana won’t meet my gaze, but I approach her anyhow.

“If you don’t at least try…” I murmur under my breath so no one else can overhear.

“I know. More will die. It’s just…” She lifts her gaze but only from the ground to my chest.

I lift her chin, and she finally looks up at me. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears.

“What’s worse?” I ask genuinely, not certain of the answer. “Not looking into the future or seeing a… a possibility?”

Her eyes narrow at my stumble. She and I both know I had been about to say, "seeing a lie."

Zanatre bounds over. “Earth,” she announces. “That’s where they’re going to head next, and there are several ways they can go about that. Gargoyles, of course.” She touches her chest and then vaguely waves a hand toward Sommeil. “Sandmen, I suppose.”

“Even dryads could be considered earth, if they are going that route,” I muse as I rub my chin.

“There’s nothing on our phones yet,” Zanatre says a bit desperately. “Only three salamanders have joined us, and we don’t know how many joined them. They have numbers on us as it is. We can’t allow them to keep adding to their army, or worse, what if they start their war? We don’t know what their endgame is.” The gargoyle crosses her arms. “I’m not trying to judge you or anything like that. Everyone makes mistakes.”

I harrumph.

Zanatre’s eyes flash. “Can we just bury the hatchet already? You’re still pissed at me after all of these years? Shadows alive, I thought you and I were on good terms.”

I clench my jaw so tightly my teeth ache, and even my ears start to hurt. “What happened the last time you, Sommeil, and I were on a mission together?”

“We killed our target as we were supposed to,” she says stubbornly.

I grind my teeth. “And what happened after that?”

“We saw a guy fighting with a girl. He grabbed her arm. She shrugged him off. They parted ways.”

“And you dragged him into an alley and killed him.”

“He was a human! And I told you not to do that!”

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” she snaps.

“I think I know more about those two than you do,” I snap right back. “Who knows death better than a grim reaper? It wasn’t his time to die!”

“No? Just what do you know about those two that I don’t?” Zanatre buffs her nails on her shirt, not looking at me.

“They were engaged to be married. Couples fight sometimes. That didn’t give you any reason to—”

"Did you know that Marcus Lawrence had been married before he dated and became engaged with Ana Butler? Did you know that his wife died under mysterious circumstances? Did you also know that he was charged with his wife's murder, but he was released because the police botched the investigation and incriminating evidence had to be thrown out?" Zanatre's fingers turned into claws that she curled into tight fists that shook with barely controlled rage. "Yes, I killed a human, and no, we aren't to do that, but the agency never scolded me for it."

I gape at her. “You don’t regret what you did at all?”

“You claim that it wasn’t Marcus’ time to die. Well, then, he should’ve been allowed to live? For how long? Until he killed Ana? Because that was where it was going.”

“Did you know about Marcus and his wife and his getting away with murder before or after you killed him?” I demand.

“What does that matter?” she asks coolly.

“If you went along with us because you knew our target might lead us to be near Marcus… If he was your target all along…”

“Why are you so certain he shouldn’t have died then?” she argues.

“People can change—”

“Murders can’t.”

“We murder.”

Zanatre throws up her hands and rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t pop out of their sockets. “Are you kidding me? We don’t murder—”

“We hunt down criminals, yes, but we hunt them down specifically to kill them.”

“Hmm. Seems to me the grim reaper is finally having cold feet about killing and being a paranormal executioner after all. Don’t forget our calling, Donovan.”

“Don’t you forget it either,” I hiss. “We’re supposed to keep the paranormal world safe and secret.”

“Even the humans execute the worst of the worst,” she returns.

“How do you know that Marcus couldn’t have changed and become a better person? Sometimes, you have to hit rock bottom—”

“What do you know about hitting rock bottom?” Zanatre snaps, and I wince at my word choice. “Yes, your family has abandoned you, but you have a brother in Sommeil, right?”

She glances at Adriana, and I stiffen. If Zanatre knows about my crush, does that mean everyone does? Even Adriana?

“You aren’t alone,” the gargoyle continues.

“Isn’t being a solitary creature kind of a gargoyle thing?” I ask.

Again, it’s precisely the wrong thing to say, and Zanatre storms off.

I turn to Adriana. “I can’t explain how I know it, but Marcus… he shouldn’t have died then.”

“Do you have any idea what he might have done if he had been given more time to live?” the oracle asks softly.

I hesitate and then shake my head. “I don’t know. I just have a gut feeling that he wasn’t meant to die then, but what if Zanatre is right? What if he would’ve killed his fiancée?”

“You know life and death better than most, but you don’t know everything.”

“That’s supposed to be your job,” I say weakly.

Her smile is nonexistent.

Zanatre comes back over to us. I’m not sure if her return is more of a shock or that she’s now in her gargoyle form.

“Well, it seems I was right,” she announces. “Darko’s joined up with them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he found them and signed up for their team by his own volition.”

“Darko?” Adriana asks.

“A gargoyle, one I’ve been keeping an eye on because he’s been flagged as a possible threat in the future,” Zanatre says stiffly, pointedly situating herself so she’s facing Adriana with her back to me.

I’m dying to ask if she knows all of this because she’s taking it on herself to watch him. She’s a dangerous one, I think, a real loose cannon.

“He’s been known to side against authority for years,” Zanatre continues. “Darko had potentially been involved in a plot to kill Madra years ago that many didn’t know about.”

“The head of HEX Unite had almost been killed?” I ask, shocked.

“Everyone linked to it has been killed,” Zanatre states, still acting as if she’s ignoring me, “but we couldn’t be certain if Darko was involved. I advocated for him to be sent to Magical Prison, but I was overruled.”

“We need to know what the harpies are after,” Sommeil says, coming over to us. “Did you say a gargoyle’s joined up with them?”

Zanatre nods.

“Anything else they might want to go after?” Sommeil asks.

“They have so many who can fight from the air,” Simone says, a half step behind the sandman. “Maybe they will add more ground power?”

“Or maybe they’re working on their plan for…” I eye Zanatre, who stares back at me as if she doesn’t trust me.

I guess the feeling is mutual. Do I trust her? I don’t doubt that she can cover my back and won’t let any harm come to me or the others, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t reckless. She’s daring and a survivor, but she needs to play by the rules.

Then again, the ones we’re going up against don’t play by the rules, and they won’t hesitate to kill again and again.

The thought churns my stomach.

“If Darko is involved,” I continue, “maybe it has something to do with Madra. It could be something huge they’re going after. Who knows? Maybe Darko is the real kingpin in all of this, and the harpies have been under his stone wing all along.”

“I don’t know,” Zanatre muses. “Why wait so many years to pick up on that plan? It doesn’t feel right to me.”

“But he’s involved,” I stress.

“Yes, he’s involved, but he hadn’t been the kingpin in the first place.”

“Who had been?”

Zanatre gives a coy, little smile and shrugs one shoulder. “Darko’s brother. Niko.”

“You said everyone was killed from that botched assassination attempt.”

"Did I?" she asks nonchalantly. "I was mistaken because actually, Niko is very much alive."

“The underlings were all killed but the mastermind wasn’t?” I rub my forehead. “I don’t understand that at all. Not one little bit.”

“It’s not up to you to decide who to send to prison or who to kill,” Adriana murmurs. “Madra reviews every case. Yes, the oracles issue the assignments, but those assignments come from the head of HEX Unite.”

“Madra,” I murmur. “She’s a valkyrie. Any chance she’s part seer too? Maybe she has a reason for keeping Niko around.”

“Who knows why a woman does anything that she does,” Wade says, strolling on over. He and the other selkies have their seal skins attached to their backs. He pats Sommeil’s shoulder.

The sandman laughs. “Isn’t that the truth?”

Simone and Zanatre both glare at them.

Adriana ignores all of that. Sometimes, I get the feeling that she’s not entirely here, that she’s playing out all the angles in her head, or maybe she is using her power some.

“I think we should go and talk to Niko in his cell,” the oracle finally says. “At least some of us. Maybe the others can see about our own recruitment efforts.”

“You want more salamanders?” Shyn asks. “Because I do not think we can spare more.”

“Maybe a few more volunteers. If not, the three of you are more than enough,” I say to assure her.

The salamander eyes me in such a way that I know we’re not getting another one.

“All right. Those of us from HEX Unite will go,” I start.

“I’m coming too,” Wade announces.

“I think you might want to stay on back,” Reva comments. Everyone is coming over now, talking over each other, and in the end, it’s settled as I said originally.

Sommeil, Zanatre, Simone, Adriana, and I are to go to Magical Prison. The others will either train, prepare, or possibly recruit more, but I have a feeling our numbers won't swell very much.

Still, we have to get a leg—wing?—up on the harpies and their army, or else we'll be the ones to end up bottoms up in a grave.

CHAPTER 23

M agical Prison is a huge, towering building. I think it had been two years ago that there had been a prison riot. Some of the prisoners escaped, but a few of the guards managed to track them all down, hopefully before any more crimes had been committed. I sure wouldn’t want that position. Working at a prison just isn’t for me.

We march right on up to the front door of the prison, having used fairy dust to bring us here. I’m about to knock on the door when it opens.

Before me stands a fairy with wavy, black hair that reaches his chin. His eyes are amber, the white a bit yellowish, and his dark wings are mostly tucked behind him.

“Hello,” he says cautiously, looking us over. “What brings you all here?”

For once, I wait to see if someone else will take the lead, but when no one does, I explain, “We’re here to see a prisoner.”

“Not just anyone can see a prisoner here,” he states.

“Are prisoners not allowed to have visitors?” Sommeil asks.

The fairy eyes him. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, but…”

“We’re here as representatives of HEX Unite,” I say.

“Is that right?” The fairy looks me up and down. “And why would HEX Unite be interested in a prisoner? Once the prisoners are sent here, HEX Unite washes their hands of them.”

“Normally, that’s the case, yes, but this prisoner…” I glance around, hating that we aren’t even inside the prison yet. It makes me feel like we’re the ones in the wrong here. “We need to talk to the gargoyle.”

“Niko,” the fairy murmurs. “My name is Aiden. Aiden Sunwinds. You all are…”

We quickly introduce ourselves. It's only now that I learn that Simone's official position at the agency isn't just as a healer. She's a healer who can also be called on as a paranormal hunter. I find that very interesting indeed, but it also doesn't surprise me. A healer isn't going to want to kill, and sometimes, slayers have to do that. Hmm. I wonder if a paranormal hunter has ever killed. I know they aren't supposed to, but… When your life is on the line, when your partner's is… It can't always be easy to try to capture for the sake of imprisonment. Even paranormal hunters are trained and capable fighters who can kill if pushed to the limit.

“You can see the prisoner,” Aiden says.

“No offense, Aiden,” Zanatre states. She’s back in her human form. “But can you give us that authority, or do you need to talk to someone?”

He ignores her question. “Not all of you can question him. One, at the most two.”

“I will,” I say automatically. “Zanatre, do you want to as well?”

I assume the gargoyle would jump at the chance, but she shakes her head. “He knows me. If he sees me, he might clam up.”

“Or maybe you could needle him to the point of him giving something up.”

“Possibly,” she says doubtfully.

“If anyone knows how to get under someone’s skin, it’s Zanatre,” Sommeil says.

Simone laughs, but Zanatre just gives him a look that shows how wounded she is. The sandman looks apologetic immediately, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll go, and if you need Zanatre, I’ll fetch her,” Adriana says.

“Or let me,” Simone says. Her cheeks glow red. “I can make men talk.”

“How so? You part siren?” Zanatre snaps.

“If you’re nice to men, they will eat anything you give them—compliments, flirty remarks… lies.”

“I prefer to stick to the truth,” Zanatre says, lifting her nose in the air.

“And that’s why you’re alone,” Simone states.

“Don’t act like you know me, witch.”

Aiden blinks a few times and then waves me on ahead. I motion for Adriana to go first, and I follow her inside.

The fairy leads us past the café where the guards eat to a small room. I don’t remember it from when I had my week-long stint as a guard. In fact, there seems to be a fair amount of updating to the place since my time. I thought the place dreary and depressing before. Now, it’s not what I would call uplifting, exactly, but it’s no longer eerie. The tile is polished to a near shine. The concrete ceiling has been replaced. It’s still low, but it doesn’t feel like it’s going to collapse on us at least.

“Wait here,” Aiden instructs. “I’ll return with Niko in a moment.”

Despite the renovations, the room is stark, barren except for a table and two chairs. It looks more like an interrogation room than one for visitors. Maybe visitors really aren’t typically allowed.

Adriana stares at the tiny window that's high up on the wall. Neither of us says anything.

Ten minutes later, Aiden returns. I’m not sure what I expected to see, but Niko’s a brute even in human form. He’s as muscular as Blackwell the selkie. His skin is a bronze coloring, and I get the impression that his forehead has two horns when he’s in his gargoyle form. The way he holds his fingers makes me wonder if he has three claws instead of five.

"Do you want me to stay?" Aiden asks as he guides Niko to sit in one of the chairs. I'm honestly shocked the chair can support his weight. He's not stone right now, but all of those muscles mean he has to be packing close to two hundred pounds, maybe even more.

“We’ll be fine,” Adriana murmurs.

Aiden nods and leaves, keeping the door open.

Niko eyes us but says nothing.

I take the other chair, turn it around, and sit on it, drumming my fingers on the top of the back. “Niko, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Donovan Darthe. You might know me as the grim reaper who kills.”

Niko stares through me. I swear he’s not even listening.

“Do you want to know what your brother’s up to?” I ask. “No? That’s all right. I’ll tell you anyway. Darko has teamed up with a swarm of harpies…”

Niko’s nostrils flare. There’s something almost barbaric and monstrous about his facial features. His face is the embodiment of raw anger.

“That surprises you, huh?” I ask. “Why is that?”

Niko glowers and pounds a fist onto the table. Although made of metal, the table cracks apart, breaking in half. It doesn’t dent. It’s just clearly in two as surely as if his fist had been a saw.

“You don’t like harpies, huh? Why does your brother?” I ask.

“Darko, what are you playing at?” Niko grumbles, turning to stare at the wall.

“Why do you dislike the harpies?” Adriana asks softly, crossing over to stand behind my right shoulder.

“Harpies destroyed our home,” Niko spits out. “They ruined our roosting spot. No. You have to be mistaken. There’s no way Darko would ever team up with them and their kind.”

Adriana and I exchange a look.

Niko leans forward and lifts his hands. That’s when I see that he’s cuffed. Somehow, I doubt those cuffs will restrain him. They have to be magical in some way.

“Maybe they have a hold on Darko somehow,” Adriana suggests.

“Or maybe Darko is using them?” I counter. “What might he want to use them for?”

Niko turns sullen and refuses to respond.

“Maybe if you cooperate…” I lean forward and lower my voice. “I can maybe talk to someone and see about maybe getting you out of here sooner, but you know how that goes. You have to work with me for me to even consider that.”

Niko snorts. He’s not buying that any, and it’s just as well because I have no leverage here whatsoever.

“Why are you in here?” Adriana asks.

I look at her, surprised. Had she not been paying attention when Zanatre told us? Or is she just trying to get the gargoyle to talk?

Niko opens and closes his fists a few times. “We only ever wanted Madra dead because of the harpies,” he confesses.

“Why is that?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”

“I told you already. The harpies destroyed our home. They ruined our roosting spot, and when they did, they killed our parents.” Niko jumps to his feet. “And what did HEX Unite do about that? What did they do about that murder? That dual murder? Nothing. Nothing at all. HEX Unite never went after the harpies responsible for killing our parents.”

“I get that you wanted revenge for your parents, but why not go after the harpies themselves? The ones who actually killed your parents?” I ask.

“Don’t you see? HEX Unite is corrupt. They don’t care about everyone equally. We’re gargoyles. We’re seen as bad for the most part.”

I take that as a cue and go to nod to Adriana, but she’s already heading for the door. She doesn’t leave, though, hesitating, watching, listening.

“Where is she going?” Niko asks. “You think I’ll be willing to talk to the gargoyle you brought with you? What’s her name? Zanatre, right?”

I stiffen.

“Relax. I’m not going to bust out of these infernal magic-dampening cuffs and slay her or the rest of you. I’m trying to do better. Going to therapy. For so long, this place was just a building for evil paranormal creatures to come and spend the rest of our lives here until we die. Yes, a few here and there might be released, but that’s just to bolster morale, to try to keep us in line. That changed a bit a few years ago when a fairy came. She actually cares, but she’s married to a guard here. They’re part of the problem—the guards, you hunters, slayers, executioners. You all think you know best, that you can play God and decide who gets a second chance and who gets to die.”

“Niko,” I interrupt. “Why weren’t you killed?”

"Why wasn't I executed?" Niko smirks. "I was on the run. I knew paranormal executioners were on my wing. The plan to get to Madra collapsed, but I had a backup plan, a way to get to her, and I did. I found myself face-to-face with her. We fought some, but…" He shakes his head. "We didn't fight all that much. I mostly just killed and ranted and raved at her for allowing my parents to die, to let their murderers go on and fly free. The others in the attempt had all been killed, and I figured I would be too, but I wanted her to know why we wanted her dead. I wanted her to understand that she had done wrong by my brother and me. Did she care? I doubt it. Nothing happened to those harpies. Why not? Why act like that's okay? It's not okay. It's not even remotely fine. All of it is a lie, all of it. HEX Unite doesn't care about punishing all of the evil paranormal creatures. I'll admit that I'm not the best of the best, but I'm not the worst of the worst."

Niko shrugs and hangs his head.

“I guess that’s why you’re in here,” Adriana murmurs.

I blow out a breath. “HEX Unite isn’t perfect, no, but we do what we can.”

“You only do what your oracles see.”

I wince, expecting him to lift his head, to glower at Adriana. Shadows alive, maybe even go to attack her, but he just remains sitting there, cowered over.

He’s broken, I realize. I don’t know how long ago his parents died, but that singular act affected him so drastically that he ultimately decided that he wanted to kill the head of an organization that he thought failed him.

That legit failed him.

“HEX Unite isn’t perfect,” I repeat, “but maybe you can help us figure out what the harpies are up to, what your brother is up to.”

“Darko.” Niko snorts. “I haven’t seen my brother in years. What makes you think I can get into his head?”

Wordlessly, I meet Adriana’s gaze. Coming here hasn’t helped us much except to show that HEX Unite may have been failing for a lot longer than I’ve come to suspect.

But I can’t think about HEX Unite and its failings. We have to handle the harpies first.

This isn’t going to be easy. Not by a long shot.

CHAPTER 24

I  run a hand through my hair. “It’s possible that this swarm of harpies isn’t the same as the flock that killed your parents.”

"Who knows? Maybe you and your crew inspired them, and now they want to finish the job you couldn't pull off," Zanatre announces as she enters the room.

My eyes widen, and I gape at her.

She shrugs and glances at the window.

“You were spying on us?” I ask. “And overheard your name…”

“Maybe.” She stares Niko down. “I’m not surprised you don’t want to help us. I get that. I—”

"I heard about your partners. Both of them. Funny how two of them died, but you're still around."

“I lost one of them to your crew,” she snaps. “If it were up to me, you would be dead.”

“Well, then I’m glad it’s not up to you.”

“No? It’s up to Madra, the one you still want dead.” She crosses her arms. “Admit it.”

Niko flares his nostrils as he breathes in deeply. “I don’t want you in here.”

“Why? Does my presence remind you of the last time you were free? It’s not my fault you decided to do something so utterly foolish and absurd.”

“It wasn’t…”

“You can’t say without lying that it wasn’t foolish.”

“If I had an army…”

“Like the harpies have?” I interrupt.

“Maybe Zanatre’s right,” Adriana murmurs. “Maybe the harpies want to go after Madra. Why else would they need to amass an army?”

“To come clean to the humans,” Niko says. “To have revenge against all those who wronged them. To commit murder and mayhem wherever they go. When’s the last time a harpy was ever imprisoned? Or slain or executed?”

“That’s funny,” Aiden says, peeking his head inside the room. “There are plenty of harpies locked up in here, and you know it, Niko.”

“Then talk to them,” Niko growls. “You’re wasting my time. I’m not one for small talk as it is.”

“This talk isn’t all that small,” I counter. “You honestly can’t tell us anything about your brother?”

“If your brother is the kingpin, I can all but guarantee that he’ll end up executed,” Zanatre states. “If you want him to be stopped before he makes an executable offense, maybe you should reconsider your silence.”

“I’m talking too much as it is to be considered silent,” he grumbles. “Besides, can’t Oracle here tell us what’s going on?” Can’t she tell us—”

“Leave her be,” I instruct. “You aren’t the one with the power here.”

“No?” Niko sits back and gives me a demonic smirk. “Seems to me that I’m the one with all the power right about now.”

“You or your brother?” Zanatre asks coyly.

Niko hisses and sticks out his forked tongue. “You’re trying me, Zanatre, and I don’t have the patience.”

“What’s the matter?” You missing the strength of being all rock? It’s not exactly normal to be human all the time, not for us. But then, even if you could change into your gargoyle, you can’t sit out and bake and soak in the glorious rays of the sun, the sparkling, twinkling lights of the stars and the moon.”

She barely gives me time to back away before she’s shifting to her gargoyle. As much as she can, she stretches out her wings, and she actually blows Niko a kiss.

The gargoyle in chains roars and leaps to his feet. She’s pushing him too far.

His chest heaving, Niko glowers at her, but that’s all he does. Slowly, he calms down, his breathing returning to normal, and he sits back down.

“You really are trying to become rehabilitated, huh?” she asks, opting to remain in her gargoyle.

“I’m not talking to her,” he grumbles.

“You just did, you lump of rocks. Now, in order to completely rehabilitate, tell us everything you know about your brother.”

Niko holds his tongue.

“Was he the true kingpin back then?” Zanatre asks. “Why protect him? He’s been free all of these years while you’ve been wasting away in here. Surely you’re at least a little upset with him.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” Niko states, but his voice cracks.

“That so? Because—”

I hold up a hand to stop Zanatre. “The harpies have a lot more than just Darko. They’ve stolen a dozen selkies’ skins to force them to fight, and they have salamanders too. They’re amassing an army. We don’t know why, and we don’t know if they’re done recruiting or not. Any intel you can give us would be—”

“You have an oracle on your side. From the smell of it, you have a witch too. Can’t she do a locator spell? Why not just go directly to the harpies and ask them your prying questions? How do you expect me to know anything?”

"I know that the only person who can best Darko in a fight is you," Zanatre says quietly. "Tell me that at least. Let me take him down in a way that won't kill him, and maybe I won't execute him when the time comes. Because the thing is, Niko, with or without your help, we'll figure out what they're up to. We'll stop them, and then, we're going to have to kill. Only you can possibly save your brother."

“If what you said is true and I’m the only one who can best him, then you realize you won’t be able to kill him. You won’t have a chance against him. He knows every trick you know and then some.”

Zanatre stares up at the ceiling, her stone face twisted with anger and annoyance. Maybe she can sense the heat of my stare because she mumbles, “Darko was kicked out of Magical Hunters Academy.”

“Yes, he was,” Niko says.

“Because of your brother, I almost wasn’t allowed to attend!”

“But you got in, didn’t you? And look at that. You get to kill without being questioned, and you also get to survive when others die. You’re a blight, Zanatre.”

“She’s not a blight,” Adriana says quietly, “but you are. You don’t have to be, but you are. You claim you want to reform, but you don’t. If you truly did, you would start talking, but I’m starting to think you don’t know anything. Your brother is beyond you. You don’t know who he is anymore, just as he wouldn’t recognize you either. He still has hatred geared up against HEX Unite. Maybe Madra thought sparring you and sentencing you to Magical Prison would stop your brother from carrying out any dreams of killing her. My guess—”

"Your guess," Niko says with a laugh. "Your guess! What kind of an oracle are you that you have guesses?"

“Adriana is just being kind,” I say to cover for her. “She knows how this will end, but she’s trying anyhow to change the ending.”

“What’s the ending?” Niko coolly asks me.

“Darko’s going to have a cell in here with you.”

Niko snorts.

Even Zanatre has to chuckle. “Adriana better look in her crystal ball again because I am not going to agree to another one of the Stonehenge boys to be locked away when it’s beyond clear that they’re nothing but miserable lumps of rotten coal that should be melted to ashes.”

“Been spending a bit too much time with salamanders, have you, Zanatre?” Niko chuckles.

Zanatre reverts back to her human form, and before any of us can blink, she slugs Niko right in his face. Blood gushes from his nose, and he mumbles a few curses.

Adriana leaves only to return a moment later with a cloth. At least it’s a black cloth because the gargoyle is bleeding like a sieve.

“Zanatre,” I warn her,

She holds up her hands as she backs away from the gargoyle. “I’ll go, but seriously, Niko, you should cooperate. Darko is all you have left. Do you want to lose your brother when you could help save him?”

“You don’t want to save him. You don’t want me to be saved either. All you two want is for me to be dead.”

“Okay, there are more than three of us here,” I say.

Zanatre leaves.

“More than just the two of us here,” I amend. “I don’t want you dead.”

“No? You and your precious HEX Unite.”

“Niko, please,” Adriana begs.

He glances at her curiously, and I cover my mouth to hide a smile. Adriana has a way of worming past defenses like no other. There's something so disarming about her gentle, quiet nature, and even though I know she's filled with self-doubt, I also know she can handle so much more than she thinks she can.

"The harpies might be working under your brother, or maybe they're the ones in charge. I don't know, and you don't know that either." Adriana pauses before continuing, "They have the selkies and the salamanders. If you were to join this motley crew of deviants, who do you think they would seek next? Or are they ready to make their move?"

“I don’t know what their move is for certain,” he protests.

“No, but you studied harpies, didn’t you? You thought about going after the swarm that killed your parents. In the end, you decided against that. That’s why you decided to go after Madra instead. You actually thought she would be easier to take down.”

“That’s not…” The gargoyle halts his protests when the oracle just stares at him, through him. “Fine. Yes. That’s right. I did study harpies, their movements, the way they combine their attacks, all of it.”

“You understand them as much as or even more so than other harpies. We could go and talk to the harpies here. I’m sure Aiden would be most cooperative, but do you want more harpies to fly free while you’re stuck in here? Help us.” Adriana spreads out her hands. “Please, Niko.”

The gargoyle shakes his head. “Why do you need my help when you have her? She saw my past clearly enough.”

“Maybe the future isn’t set yet,” Adriana murmurs. “Maybe you can have a helping hand in saving your brother’s life.”

Niko rubs the back of his neck. His biceps flex with the movement. “I’m surprised the harpies would dare to recruit the salamanders. Fire is one of the quickest ways to kill one of them.”

My heart takes a leap. That is good news! If nothing else, this tidbit is a boon.

But Adriana shakes her head. “We weren’t taught that at—”

“At your precious Magical Hunters Academy? No? They didn’t teach you that about harpies? It makes you wonder if someone there has a soft spot for them. Or maybe they’re just ignorant about how vile and dastardly and repulsive those creatures are. Maybe they honestly didn’t know that, but it’s true. You can burn them.”

Adriana says nothing, but I want to cheer because her eyes change. She’s inducing a vision and without the use of a candle! Does that mean she’s seeking out the present?

“But if they’re willing to work with salamanders, that makes me think they’re willing to work with—”

“Demons,” Adriana breathes, her eyes returning back to normal. She stares at me with horror. “Donovan, they’re heading toward a portal to Hell.”

CHAPTER 25

Even Niko flinches to hear that. "Nothing good ever came from a demon," he grumbles.

Now, that’s not exactly true. I know about that legion, and while the head of it—surprise, surprise—had been a human in the supernatural bounty hunter Rebel, there had been not one but two half-demons involved. Clarissa Garcia, a half-demon, half-angel, and Bellanore, a half-demon, half-werewolf.

But that’s not important right now.

“We can’t let this stand,” Adriana says.

"No. Regardless of being outnumbered, we have to go and face them now." I nod to her and then turn to Niko. "Unless you have anything else to say…"

“Take me with you,” he blurts out.

I hesitate and then shake my head. “I can’t.”

“You have to,” he hisses. “You heard Zanatre. Only I can bring down my brother.”

“And you won’t turn against us and join his side?” I shake my head again. “It’s too much of a risk to take.”

“You have to!” he shouts.

“Now you want to come with us. When they’re heading toward a portal to Hell. Why is that?” Adriana asks quietly.

The gargoyle squints, and his hands shake. I bet he’s trying to go against the magic-dampening cuffs to turn into his gargoyle self, but he can’t.

Aiden peeks in. “No can do, Niko, and you know that.”

“You all are making a huge mistake!” Niko shouts as Adriana and I leave the room. “You’ll regret this!”

“Is he right?” I murmur to Adriana.

“I can’t say.”

“But you know where the portal is.”

“Yes. Gueule de la Mort.”

“Come again?”

“It’s French,” she says.

“And it means something about death, doesn’t it?”

“Maw of Death,” she murmurs. “It’s a volcanic mountain.”

“Awesome.”

“It’s dormant, but… It’s only dormant as far as lava goes.”

“A lot of demonic activity there?”

“Not that I know of, but right now…”

We race out of the prison, and I almost plow right into Simone. I grab her arms to prevent her from falling over.

“Donovan, if you wished for a hug, you need—”

“The harpies and their crew are looking to gain more allies,” I say in a rush as I release the witch.

“Demons this time,” Adriana says.

“The gargoyle told you this?” Sommeil asks.

Adriana shakes her head.

“We’ll need fire, though, to kill the harpies.” I glance around for the salamanders and then set my teeth on edge. Death and bones, we left the salamanders to try to recruit more!

“We need the rest of our army,” Simone says.

“I’m on it.” Sommeil lies down and closes his eyes.

“This is not the time for a nap,” Zanatre snaps. “Where exactly are they—”

"I'm trying to connect to any one of them. If one is napping or dozing off…" Sommeil begins to grin and then sits up. "They'll jump here, and then we'll all go off together to…"

“Gueule de la Mort,” Adriana supplies.

Zanatre flinches.

So does Simone. “Gueule de la Mort,” she murmurs in her French accent.

“We really don’t have time to talk about the particulars of the place,” I say, turning to Adriana. “You said they’re heading there, not that they’re actually there. Is it possible to ward them off?”

“Yes,” Adriana says breathlessly. “They—”

The arrival of the salamanders and the selkies interrupts her.

“What is going on?” Wade demands. “We were trying to recruit some—”

“Don’t act like we were nearly getting anywhere,” Laguna mumbles.

“Do not feel so bad,” Shyn says. “We had no luck either.”

“We did,” I assure them. “Adriana?”

"The harpies' army is too large for them to use fairy dust to travel, don't you think? They might not even have access to it, so they have no choice but to fly."

“We should head them off at…” Simone eyes Sommeil.

“Mont des Avaloirs,” the sandman says.

“Another mountain,” I muse. “I suppose that makes sense. They’ll be flying after all. We need to attack them hard and fast.”

“We will need to do something about the tourists, though,” Simone murmurs.

“Can’t you handle that?” Zanatre asks.

Sommeil and Simone both stare at her.

“I’m serious,” Zanatre says. “We’ll need Sommeil’s strength. You know the language. Fake a natural disaster or something so that it’s shut down.”

“I… I suppose,” Simone stammers.

“Great. Let’s go.”

“We’ll need all the fire we can get,” I warn everyone.

And then we hold hands and use dust, and we’re whisked away to France.

I’ve never been here before. Sommeil has asked me time and again if I would ever go there with him. I’ve kept pushing him off. The one time we almost did had been right before the whole incident with Marcus. I felt so terrible over what Zanatre did to Ana by killing the human’s husband-to-be that I anonymously donated the funds I saved up for the trip to her. To this day, Sommeil thinks I had a change of heart until I dropped enough hints that he thinks I gambled the savings away.

He’s the only one I ever gambled with, though, so he should’ve seen right through that. Maybe he did.

For some reason, I thought France was comprised of mostly flatlands without a lot of rolling hills, and I also didn’t think there would be so many trees, but my gaze needs to be on the sky, not the scenery down below.

I lift a hand to shield my eyes. There’s nothing to see, not yet anyway.

“Are you sure they have to go this way in order to get to the Maw of Death?” I ask.

“Don’t call it that,” Sommeil grumbles. “It’s not that hard to say Gueule de la Mort.”

“Of course you don’t think it’s hard to say that,” I mumble. “Shyn, do you think you and the other salamanders can set up a small fire? We’ll use it for our weapons.” I take out my bladed boomerang and toss it up into the air and catch it on its descent.

Sommeil sends out tendrils of sand. "Use a lot of coal if you can," he suggests to the salamanders. "I can use them as firebombs, basically. Sand locks in heat, you know. Smoldering coals burn even hotter in sand."

“Sand does burn very hot,” Simone murmurs.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” Zanatre asks.

“I’m going, but don’t you think you should be a lookout?” Simone asks, pointing skyward.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zanatre mutters. She transforms into her gargoyle and takes to the skies.

“Any sign of them?” I call.

“Not yet. If you want to try to make some arrows from the tree branches, go ahead. You might have some time.”

The selkies wait patiently. As soon as the fire is burning hotly, they stick their spears and tridents into the flames while the salamanders wander around to ensure none of the humans approach our camp.

Using my sickle, I hack down some branches. My gaze continually goes to Adriana, and after a moment, the oracle approaches.

“What if I’m wrong again?” she asks. “What if—”

“What if is a terrible road to be on. You’re going to take the next exit.”

She smiles weakly. “And the next exit just happens to be Insanity Road.”

“That might be better. Go ahead,” I urge.

“I do feel like I’m going insane, though,” she murmurs. “I can’t trust myself, and I keep having these thoughts… Donovan, all of this is my fault.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure that the harpies are the only ones who should be held accountable for their actions.”

“That so?” she asks. “And you don’t feel any bit of worry or guilt about Zenzil?”

At the mention of the yeti, I shudder. “Touché.”

“Well, I suppose we won’t have to worry about demons joining their cause,” she says.

“Whatever their cause may be.”

Zanatre swoops down. “The others should’ve gotten us more fliers,” she grumbles.

“Nothing yet.”

“I can feel a shift in the air. They’re heading this way and fast. I just can’t see them yet.”

I nod, and the gargoyle heads back up to the skies. Not two minutes later, she lets out a whoop, and we scramble about, getting ready.

With a grin, I watch the skies and wait. Any minute now… Any second…

As soon as the first glint of light shines from a talon, I grab the dark gray blue-eyed skull attached to the chain whip that rests on my chest in a loop over one shoulder and then the other to form an “X.” The chain whip uncoils from my body instantly, and with a flick of my wrist, the end lands in the fire, scattering a bit of the flames.

A harpy dives right toward me. I'm the master of death, and I've learned how to fight with two hands. My right is my dominant hand, and that holds onto the end of the chain whip. My other hand has the bladed boomerang, and I send that whipping at the harpy. Now, the boomerang hasn't been sitting in the fire, but the blades are sharp enough that it cuts the harpy's wing. Not entirely off, but the harpy goes to grab the blade out.

The boomerang, though, has been infused with magic, and it returns to me, not just because of its nature as a boomerang. The harpy hisses at me, but I crack the skull chain whip. The chains wrap around the harpy, and the heat from the flames makes the harpy catch on fire.

As the harpy tries to flap wildly and put out the flames, I turn my sights on another harpy. There’s hardly a word spoken at all, only grunts and muttered curses. No death shrills.

Even the harpies are quiet, but then I see a looming shadow.

Darko.

Zanatre zooms on by to tackle him, and there's a massive face-off between the salamanders. There's no doubt about it—the salamanders that went off with the harpies hadn't been forced to because they are fighting fiercely, but the trio on our side is more than handling matters.

As for the selkies…

It's so utterly heartbreaking to see the looks on the coerced selkies' faces. They clearly don't want to fight Sommeil, Adriana, and the others, but they have no choice. Without their skins, they aren't themselves. They can't do whatever they want.

As I manage to take down another selkie, I spy Blackwell, and I make my way over to the muscular selkie.

“The skins,” I hiss. “Do you see where they are?”

Blackwell cocks back his arm, aims, and then lets its spear fly. The tip is alight with fire, and he pierces a harpy directly in the chest. The harpy doesn’t even scream as she plummets to the ground.

Something small and black falls down to the ground and lands on top of her.

Without a word, Blackwell eyes me and then takes off jogging to retrieve the selkie skin that he just saved.

I should’ve known better than to doubt him. They know what to do.

Now, I fight with purpose, targeting the harpies that have the selkies’ skins. It’s a relatively short battle, but the exact moment we manage to reclaim the last selkie skin, one of the harpies lets out a loud shriek. Many dive down toward us, and it’s only after they then skirt away and fly off that I understand that it’s a diversion as the salamanders are snaking off, out of sight in seconds. Interesting. The harpies carried them over in their talons, but now the salamanders are running off. To be picked up shortly? Or… I’m not sure, and I have other matters to worry about.

Quickly, I rush to Sommeil’s side. Simone’s jogging up toward us.

“They’re heading to the west,” I say breathlessly. “The Maw… Mort place… Whatever it’s called… Is that to the west?”

“No,” Sommeil says.

“Non,” Simone answers at the same time.

I blow out a breath. A major victory. We saved the selkies and stopped the harpies. For now at least.

As for injuries… any deaths… that remains to be seen.

And this is just the start of the war. There will be more injuries, more deaths…

On both sides.

CHAPTER 26

Z anatre lands beside me. She teeters for a bit, and as soon as she transforms into her human self, she promptly falls down.

Simone rushes over. “You and that gargoyle were really going at it!”

“Yeah, he got me real good with a swipe to my side.” She lifts her arm to reveal a bloody gash.

The witch hurries to heal her, and I look around, taking stock. There are only five, no six harpies who stayed behind. Although I examine them all, they're dead. No one we can talk to.

Simone works quickly to heal the others. Although we’ve suffered some injuries, we didn’t lose anyone. That’s one mark in our favor.

The selkies are crying and hugging each other. Laguna won’t let a man and a woman out of her sight, and I’m not at all surprised when I hear her say “Mom” and “Dad.”

Wade, of course, is talking a mile a minute, but when we happen to connect gazes, he stops talking mid-sentence and crosses over to me.

“You did it,” he says. “We have the selkies back and now—”

“Now you can return to Aquilina Isle,” I state firmly.

Wade, for once, is rendered speechless.

“Are you sure you don’t require our assistance?” Beckett asks. His long legs allow him to join us in two massive strides.

“Would I appreciate the help?” I ask. “Yes, but you’ve been through so much. Those twelve, they need to return to safety. I’m sure they might want to fight, but no. No. They deserve to have some peace right now. Go home. Celebrate. Maybe under the waves this time?”

Wade chuckles.

Blackwell also comes over. He claps me on the back. "If you wish for us to go, we will," he says in his serious, deep tone. "But if you change your mind or need for us to return, have your sandman visit any one of the selkies in their sleep, and we will come immediately."

“Thank you. I appreciate that, but, ah, how is it that you have a supply of fairy dust?” I ask, curious.

“It is possible to purchase fairy dust, or didn’t you know?” Reva asks.

“We like to always have some on hand in case of whirlpools or being swept out too far on the tide,” Wade adds.

“And definitely not because of wanting to escape from one of the many underwater predators,” Laguna says.

“What’s that, honey?” her mom asks.

“Nothing, Mom.” Laguna beams and hugs her.

We say goodbye, and the selkies all disappear from view.

Now, we’re down to just the salamanders and those from HEX Unite. The harpies still number fifty-five and have their own salamanders as well as that gargoyle.

I suppose it could be worse, but… we’re still severely outnumbered.

Simone approaches and stands beside Sommeil. “We’re all healed now.”

“And you’re feeling all right?” he asks. “Healing takes a lot out of you.”

“I’m fine.”

“We’re all fine,” Zanatre says. “Let’s get back to it.”

“Normally, in war—” I start.

“This isn’t a war. I don’t know what it is, but we have to stop them and as quickly as possible. The salamanders. They headed off in the same direction as the others?” she asks.

Sommeil nods.

“Let’s go after them,” I suggest. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and can face just them and not the others too, but, ah…”

Shyn slithers over and sits back on her tail. “If we must kill them, then we must. We will do whatever is necessary to keep everyone safe.”

“Maybe we can try to talk to them,” Adriana says. “We need to learn what the harpies are up to.”

“I hope they will talk, I do,” Shyn says sadly.

Jiku shakes his head, his frill trembling. “I doubt they will.”

From the look on Duruh’s face, he doubts it too.

Sommeil leads the way. Somehow, using his sand, he can follow the trail of heat left behind in the salamander’s wake. It would be nice to make use of Zanatre’s wings, but we don’t want to risk alerting the gargoyle and harpies to our sneak come from behind attack on the salamanders.

Once we’re within seeing distance of the salamanders, Shyn gives me a look. We halt, and the salamanders go on ahead. They dance and bob and weave, but it makes no difference. The salamander traitors go after them, hissing and spitting out fireballs.

One of the fireballs zooms toward Shyn's head. She doesn't move out of the way, doesn't blast her own fireball back. All she does is stand there, and I start to rush toward her, even though what am I going to do? Lift up a fiery lizard and get burned in the process?

But I don’t have to worry. From Shyn’s forehead, from the blue stone there, comes a gush of water that singes the fireball to nothingness.

It’s as if the salamander herself has been infused with water magic like our weapons can have magical properties imbued in them!

“I am your Maestra de Fuego,” she cries. “You will cease your machinations against me, or else you will face the consequences!”

“If you think we’re going to listen to you, you’re wrong,” one of the foes says.

“Why listen to the harpies? Why do their bidding?” Jiku fans his frill so fast that it extinguishes a fireball that had been zooming toward him.

“What is it the harpies want?” I ask.

The salamander glowers at me. “You’ll never find out. The harpies are going to change the world.”

"Are they the ones in charge, or is Darko?" Zanatre asks.

The salamanders ignore her, continuing to fight us.

“The gargoyle,” she presses.

“The gargoyle is just a stone bodyguard,” a different salamander answers.

A bodyguard? For which harpy? Why would a harpy need a bodyguard?

Why is it that we only ever gain more questions and never any more answers?

“I don’t want to say much, but I’ll say this,” a third salamander says. “Maybe oracles aren’t the only ones to know the future before it happens. The harpies won’t lose. They’ll succeed. You all will die, and the harpies will succeed.”

“Succeed and do what?” I ask.

The salamander opens her mouth wide. I see the orange glow in the back of her throat, and the blast is intensely hot. I barely have time to jerk to the side. The fireball blasts a hole through the tree standing behind where I had just been standing.

One of the salamanders races toward me. It’s incredible the speed the creature has. He gets ready to throw some fire my way, but I ignore the threat he poses and instead focus on my magic, on my connection to life and death.

Is now the time when this salamander is to die?

It's not often that I can't tell, that the magic evades and eludes me, but it does now, making me wonder all the more if it's possible for our magic to have been tampered with. The future might not be set in stone after all. Every choice we make can cause a ripple effect.

How the oracles saw the future without fail and with perfect clarity has always astonished me, but something has clearly shifted as that is no longer the case.

“I don’t want to have to fight you,” I say grimly, flexing and un flexing my gloved hand.

“I don’t care about what you want,” the salamander hisses.

After the fighting, I looped the chain whip on me, but once again, I yank it off and twirling it over my head as if it’s a lasso. Then, I snap it forward. The chain perfectly coils around the salamander, and I drag him over.

"There's a stream near here," I claim, even though I don't know if that's the truth or not. "You feel like going for a swim? Because you will if you don't start talking. What do the harpies want?"

“The harpies want? That’s easy. They want air to breathe, food to eat, liquids to drink…”

“I notice you didn’t say water,” I say dryly, not appreciating his condescending tone.

“Oh, they’ll drink water, but they prefer blood,” the salamander says. “There. I told you. Now let me go or else.”

I’m not about to let him go, but he’s turning on the heat of his flames, and my chain is starting to turn red-hot.

Death and bones, I yank my chain toward me, and the salamander comes flying toward me. Before I can do anything, Zanatre snatches the salamander free from the chain, and she tosses him a few feet away. Immediately, Duruh uses his horns to headbutt the salamander.

“Hey,” I protest. “I was starting to make progress with him!”

“Like he said anything important.” Zanatre rolls her eyes as she lands beside me. Despite being a stone being, she lands with hardly a thud at all.

“He would’ve started to talk,” I say stubbornly.

Just then, a salamander comes flying through the air. Zanatre holds out her hand.

“No way,” I say.

“Come on. I’ve always wanted to use a scythe.”

“Not mine,” I growl, handing her over one of my twin blades instead.

With a huff, she accepts the weapon. Her arm extended, she spirals through the air, the blade aimed right for the salamander’s throat.

But then she draws back the blade and instead slices a cut down the length of its side.

The salamander lands hard and glowers at the gargoyle. He shoots out five fireballs in quick succession, but she manages to dodge and weave and avoid them all.

“Enough,” I say firmly. “The harpies. What did they promise you?”

The salamander looks ready to spit at me, but Zanatre stands over the salamander, lifts his head, and holds the blade to his throat.

“Answer the nice grim reaper’s question, or else he won’t help your soul go anywhere.”

The salamander just laughs and laughs.

And a thought occurs to me.

“Demons. Hell. The harpies want the demons to side with them, to help them in their war, but you don’t want to be a party to that. You’re just here to help out long enough that you can then slip on down to Hell while alive. That about right?”

“If we help the harpies get what they want, then yes, we’ll be allowed to go to Hell while we’re alive.”

“The harpies can’t promise you that!” I protest. “They have no control over who goes to Heaven or Hell!”

The salamander just smirks. “I don’t need your help to get to where I’m going.”

And he leans forward hard and jerks his head to the side, forcing the blade to slice his throat.

Appalled and aghast, Zanatre jerks back, releasing his head, but it’s too late. The salamander is dead.

All around us, the salamanders are falling. One by one, they refuse to turn back. Yes, Hell is hot, and I’m sure a salamander would feel at home there, but to join a war to be able to go to Hell while alive…

If that’s truly what the salamanders all wanted, they didn’t get it. They’re all dead now.

And that’s when I feel it, the pull to guide their souls. Funnily enough, I hadn’t felt that back with those five harpies.

I give into my powers and become the grim reaper, guiding them all to their enteral resting space down in Hell. I’ve been here before, more times than I’ve ever wanted to.

Sometimes, the souls of the dead will talk to me, will beg and plead with me to not take them to Hell, but these salamanders, they don’t seem to need me at all, and they’re all entirely silent.

Even if they aren’t alive, they got what they wanted.

And the harpies? Were the salamanders just a means to an end? A way to get the demons to help them? We’ll give you souls if you help us out a bit?

But help the harpies do what?

CHAPTER 27

I  return to the land of the living to utter silence. The salamanders are mourning their fallen, lost brethren, and I can’t bring myself to mar the hushed quiet.

Jiku and Duruh drag the bodies together in a pile. Sommeil goes to help, but the salamanders hiss at him, and the sandman backs off to give them space.

Shyn, Maestra de Fuego, holds out her hands. The blue stones shine and then spray out water toward the bodies.

On either side of her, Jiku and Duruh blast out fireballs.

It’s a sight to see, and then, without warning, the water and the fire mix to form a massive cloud. Once that cloud dissipates, the bodies of the fallen salamanders are nothing more than charred remains that the breeze scatters about.

“They chose their side and would not renounce it,” Shyn says bitterly. “Some believe that salamanders are the worst parts of fire, that we’re evil, that we have no minds… Some don’t even think we can talk. There are so many who don’t understand us, who won’t give us the time of day.” She lifts her gaze to stare at each of us in turn. “Thank you, Donovan, Adriana, Simone, Sommeil, Zanatre. You all understand us, and you’ve fought with us to try to bring them back. For that, we will forever be in your debt.”

“Hardly,” I say. “I’m just sorry you lost them.”

“They lost sight of themselves,” Shyn says, “and that is on them and no one else.”

“Will you return to Mount Onyx?” Zanatre asks.

“Why would we leave you now when the fight’s not over yet?” Jiku asks.

“He’s right. We aren’t finished yet because you aren’t finished yet,” Duruh says with a nod.

“You can’t take on the harpies and that gargoyle by yourselves,” Shyn says.

“Even with you all, that’s going to be a tall order,” I say, rubbing a hand down my face.

“Have faith,” Simone says, squeezing my shoulder.

“How can you be so optimistic?” Sommeil asks, his tone filled with wonder.

"It's simple, really." She shrugs. "HEX Unite hasn't sent anyone else out to take down the harpies. They must know about us and believe we can handle it."

I rub my chin as Simone starts to check us over for any injuries. She’s moving a bit slower than normal. The toll of healing us all is wearing on her, and the fight isn’t nearly over yet.

But her belief in the system makes me consider something I hadn’t thought of before.

The oracles. If they can see the future, wouldn’t that mean they can see if a paranormal executioner team is going to die at the hands of the evil paranormal creature they’ve been charged with executing? Couldn’t the agency prevent the deaths of their own?

Are the oracles told not to look into that?

As much as I know I shouldn’t be questioning the agency, I can’t help hoping to request an audience with Madra because I have some questions. Lots of them.

I glance around and realize Zanatre isn’t down here with us. She’s flying, scouting, and now, she’s zooming back down to us.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I’m worried.” She bites her lower lip. It’s not often that she looks so scared, but she does right now. She’s terrified.

“The harpies and the gargoyle?” Sommeil asks.

“Just the gargoyle.”

“That’s not so bad then,” he protests.

“Are you crazy? That means he’s meant to detain us, to slow us down.” She swallows hard. “Sommeil, we need to take him down, and we need to do it ASAP. Sand him.”

“I’ll try, but honestly, I doubt it’ll work on a gargoyle. Not if he’s in his stone form. You don’t sleep in that form, do you?”

“No. Rocks and stones!” She slashes at the air with her claws.

“I’ll try anyhow,” he assures her.

“Don’t bother,” she snaps as she starts to pace. “I’ll have to try to lure him down to the ground so you can use your scythe on him, Donovan.”

“Why not—”

“You said you have a touch of elemental magic, right, Simone?” Zanatre asks desperately. “We don’t have a lot of time before he’ll be here, and we have to formulate a plan—”

“Ah, Zanatre.”

I shudder. Darko’s voice is similar to his brother’s, only deeper, darker, and a touch more devastating.

“Darko,” Zanatre says evenly enough. Her tone has a slight edge to it, but there’s no trace of the frantic fear she had just been showing to us all. “You always were the uglier of the two Stonehenge boys.”

“That so?” Darko chuckles darkly. “You didn’t say a word to me at all before when we… I wouldn’t say we fought because you barely scratched me.”

“I don’t see a scratch on me,” she counters coolly.

“Because you have a decent witch with you. No matter. I cut off your head, and she won’t be able to fix that.”

“You can try, but you’ll fail,” Zanatre says.

“You should know by now that you have to kill the Stonehenge boys if you want to stop us.”

“That so? Your brother isn’t stopped?” I ask.

Darko zeroes his penetrating gaze at me, and I swallow hard. I don't like the glint in his eyes. His wings are impressive and fierce. They're hardly moving, yet he's held aloft. His skin is the same shade as his brother's. I would need to see them together to tell which one is more muscular.

“My brother. You went and saw him, did you? I bet he told you only he could stop me.” Darko chuckles again. “That’s the truth. It doesn’t matter that there are… How many of you are there? You won’t be able to stop me. I’ll kill you all.”

“Gargoyles aren’t meant to be evil,” Zanatre murmurs. “We’re meant to be watchers, observers.”

“So says the gargoyle turned paranormal executioner! It’s all right to kill when you’re told to. Bah! If you believe you’re one of the good guys, you have rocks for brains, Zanatre.”

Sommeil has been weaving and manipulating the thinnest strand of sand I’ve ever seen him control. He’s going to try to sand the gargoyle while he’s distracted, but if he sees the sand, if he senses it… even if Sommeil gets the sand all the way to the gargoyle’s eyes, there’s no guarantee it’ll render him unconscious and asleep.

“And don’t you talk to me about watching and observing,” Darko continues. “I’ve been watching and observing, and I find HEX Unite lacking.”

“I knew it! This all comes back around to your brother and to the plot to assassinate Madra! That’s what the harpies want, too, isn’t it?” Zanatre asks eagerly.

But even as she’s growing excited, I can sense that the gargoyle is just teasing with her, messing with her. Maybe that’s what he wants, but I’m not sure if he’s in charge or if the harpies are. If the harpies are, who knows what they want? Maybe the same thing as he does, or maybe he’s using the harpies and will help them with whatever they want so they’ll then help him have his revenge.

It’s a tangled web, and there’s no easy way to unravel it.

“Where are the harpies?” Zanatre asks.

“Do you think I need them to end you?” Darko asks. “The lot of you will die. Why bother? Turn back now. I know for a fact you weren’t sent to kill me. The agency only ever sends out pairs, and they also never send oracles out into the field.” Darko grins, the twist to his lips dangerous and deadly.

But I’m a grim reaper. I can sense when death is coming for a person, and there’s no doubting it.

Death will be coming for at least one of us gathered here. Possibly more than one of us.

Zanatre’s purple swirling marks on her arms and upper thighs begin to glow. I’ve never seen that before, and I guess I never looked at her gargoyle self closely enough to realize there are faint purple swirls on her cheeks as well. Their glow isn’t as bright as the others on her body, and she zooms up into the air.

Darko tilts his head toward his left ear and then his right, cracking his neck both times. “You want to face me one-on-one, little one? Fine by me, but you do realize I held back before. I won’t do that again.”

Zanatre grins, her deep purple eyes sparkling in a way they never have before. She glances down at the salamanders, winks, and then sends out a massive blast of fire at Darko, the flames the same purple hue as her glowing, swirling marks on her body.

Darko huffs a sigh and shifts to avoid the blast, but Zanatre won't be denied. She zooms after him, chasing him, and the most amazing part is that the breadth and width of the fiery blast increase more and more.

The salamanders spit out fireballs. At first, it seems like they aren’t even coming close to striking the gargoyle, but then I realize they’re actually trying to force him into the path of Zanatre’s blast.

Sommeil’s sand now snakes through the air, thin and tightly controlled, but Darko notices it and shakes his head at the sandman. Like I suspected with his brother Niko, Darko has three claws on either hand and also three claws on his foot. His tail has a triangle at the end, making him look demonic, and his wings are fierce and strong. He doesn’t have any markings like Zanatre, but he sends out fire from his mouth as well, torching the sand to ash.

Beside me, Sommeil flinches. Is it painful for him when the sand is burnt like that? It has to be. He meets my gaze. His dimple is nowhere in sight, and he looks a bit pale for once.

Fire isn’t a huge weakness for gargoyles, though. What we need is a cage that we can use like the one boogeyman had.

Actually, what we need is magic-dampening cuffs like the ones we saw used in the prison.

I grit my teeth. We’re unprepared for this, and that becomes all the more evident as Darko swoops down, plucks Duruh off the ground, and flings the salamander into the air.

Zanatre stops her fiery blast and tears after the salamander, intent on saving him.

Darko turns his body into a massive spear, spiraling, his horns glinting as he takes on a trajectory that will pierce the gargoyle’s side.

“A blow like that,” Simone murmurs. She grabs Sommeil’s hand. “You have to do something!”

I ready to use my whip and launch up into the air, using tree branches to get me up higher, but I’m not going to be able to get anywhere close enough.

The distance between the two gargoyles is closing fast.

Sommeil’s sand makes an appearance, but this time, it’s heading for Zanatre. When the sand hits her eyes, she falls hard and fast.

Darko can’t change his direction fast enough. Zanatre’s safe… somewhat. She lands hard, kicking up rocks and stones and dust, the ground shaking from the impact.

Yeah, she’s safe-ish considering she’s asleep.

I glance down. Darko’s managed to halt himself, and he’s staring down Zanatre’s body. He wants to finish her off.

Not on my watch.

My allies are all armed. Simone has her javelin, Sommeil his sand and I my sickle. When did I give that back to him? Adriana… Where is she?

There’s no time for any of this.

Frantic, I shut my eyes and seize onto life, onto all things now living. My power allows me to nudge Zanatre’s mind, and she stirs awake. Good, but even better would be… Yes. I can sense the lives of fish and even a few mermaids. There’s a body of water near this locale.

Now, to get the gargoyle to be stuck beneath the waves somehow.

Simone launches her javelin. It glances off the gargoyle’s chest, but then somehow, the weapon stops falling and heads straight back up to his chest.

Maybe Simone does have some elemental power after all.

I take a deep breath and hold out my scythe in my left hand. This is going to be crazy, but Zanatre, while awake, is clearly drowsy yet, and Darko is laughing at our antics, but the glint in his eyes is murderous.

“You all are going to die,” he says, and he eyes over our party. “Starting with… you.”

He zeroes in on Simone, but I'm already making my move. I use fairy dust, and now, I'm on the gargoyle's back, my legs dangling on either side of his neck. My scythe, glowing with power, rests against his neck.

“Are you ready to reap what you sow?” I ask, my grim reaper voice chilling even me to the bone.

Darko draws up short. All it will take is one slice of his neck for me to end this, for me to sever the connection between his body and his soul.

But I hesitate. The need to learn what the harpies are planning is too high.

The hesitation is my downfall.

Darko flips onto his back, but as I plummet toward the ground, I yank off my skull chain whip and snap the end so it wraps around the gargoyle’s neck, stopping my freefall.

Down below, the others are shouting, but I can’t look down to know what the commotion is about, and my blood is thundering in my ears so loudly I can’t make out what they’re saying.

Zanatre rises up to my left. On her back is Adriana. The oracle tosses something over to me.

Magic-dampening cuffs.

I have no choice but to drop my scythe in order to catch the cuffs.

Darko is yanking on the chain, trying to free himself, but all that’s doing is choking himself that much more. I scramble to climb up the chain. As he swats me, I latch the cuff onto one wrist.

Immediately, he starts to plummet. The ground rushes up toward me. He’s going to crush me to a bloody pulp.

But then sand rushes up to me, giving me a platform to stand on, and I race over to Darko’s other side. This time, he uses fire to blast me, but instinctively, I’m my grim reaper self, and fire has no claim over Death.

With a satisfying clink, the other cuff shuts around his wrist, and I jump to the side, twisting my wrist and yanking the chain whip back to me. I clasp the skull to my chest, and the chain wraps around me like normal.

I’m not sure why my grim reaper’s senses suggest that death would come for one of us, but for now, the gargoyle has been captured. It’s for the best.

“Your scythe,” Duruh says.

I’m not sure when the salamander slithered his way back, but he touches one of his horns to the scythe to nudge it toward me.

My scythe that still glows with its power sears his soul from his body. I gasp, feeling his death as if I had been the one to die.

No!

CHAPTER 28

A  strangled cry gargles out of me, and I fall to one knee.

Darko chuckles, taking what small measure of vindictive delight that he can take despite his predicament.

“Why… What happened?” Jiku asks, his frill fluttering as he slithers near the scythe, not daring to touch it.

"Why could that foul beast touch the blade of your scythe but not die?" Shyn asks, drawing herself up on her tail. Her blue stones glow with a warning.

She’s ready to turn against me, and honestly, I don’t blame her.

“I… I don’t…”

My mind races. Why didn’t I deactivate my scythe? I barely had time to think, reacting on pure instinct. If I released the chain, I would’ve fallen. I had no choice but to drop the scythe, but it would’ve only taken a second to cull back the dark power that my scythe wields.

A breathless Simone jogs over to us. “He died because he was near death. I could not save him. He was ready to go.”

Darko laughs and laughs, and Zanatre cocks back her arm, but Sommeil beats her to the punch and doesn't make the gargoyle quite go to sleep but at least makes him drowsy enough that he shuts his trap.

I’m glad the gargoyle isn’t asleep. Raw anger controls me, and I grab my scythe. With both hands, I grip the weapon, and I march over to him and again place the blade beneath his chin.

“I suggest you start talking,” I spit out. “I’m not in a forgiving mood.”

The gargoyle only blinks a few times. “Don’t you have to go and help your little lizard friend?”

I grit my teeth. I’ve been fighting the pull for me to assume my psychopomp duties, but I can’t linger in the real world any longer, not if I want to help Duruh.

As much as it pains me, I can’t shirk this. I can’t deny him aid. Not after I caused his death even if accidentally, even if unintentionally.

The realm of the in-between, the realm between the living and the dead… Normally, I find a bit of solace here, as if this is where I am meant to be, as if this is truly my home.

Right now, it feels like this landscape is my prison.

My head hangs, but I can’t make this about me. Duruh needs me.

The salamander’s soul floats before me, and his image gives me a ghostly smile.

“Donovan.”

“Duruh, I…”

“I’m glad you can accompany me. I have to tell you something.”

He won’t be the first to confess something. I’ve been told many a deathbed confession throughout my years as a psychopomp. There have been a few occasions when a man wishes for me to apologize to his wife or to his children, but I have always made it my mission to not involve myself with those who still live.

Yet I interfered in the case of Ana Butler, so there is a precedent for what I will do now.

“You can tell me anything,” I assure the salamander.

“I was dying. I knew touching the scythe would kill me the rest of the way. I wanted that peace.”

“Simone—”

“She’s taxed to the max. If she has to heal more, it will require her to pull from her own life essence.”

“It was her life or yours?”

Duruh nods. “She’s destined for greatness, that one. You all are. Me? I’m just a salamander, and—”

“You are not just a salamander,” I say firmly. “You are a hero. Shyn knew what she was doing when she brought you with.”

“Push her to accept Jiku. She won’t want to, but…” Duruh shudders.

“Come now, friend,” I say warmly, holding out my skeletal hand. “It’s time.”

Duruh climbs up onto my shoulder, and I lift up and bring him to the Gates of Heaven. He slithers on through, and I nod to him before fading away and reentering reality.

The others are all talking, acting as if the gargoyle isn’t right there in front of them.

“I take it he’s not talking any,” I grumble.

“No,” Adriana murmurs.

I nod to her and head over to Shyn, going down onto one knee. “I spoke with Duruh. He is at peace.”

"He was a fierce fighter and a loyal friend and…" Her voice catches, and I swear the blue glow of her stones shines a bit dimmer.

“He said to push you to accept Jiku.”

Her eyes widen, and she blinks several times. “Of course he would say that.” She eyes me. “Duruh and I were childhood friends. I developed feelings for him, but he never reciprocated them.”

“And Jiku?” I ask gently.

“He joined our friendship circle when we reached maturity, only as I did with Duruh, Jiku did with me.”

“So he loves you.”

“Duruh loves me too in his own way.” She flinches. “Loved.”

“Loves,” I correct. “I don’t know you or Jiku all that well, but I do believe you will do whatever is best for your people. If that means Jiku or someone else, you will do what’s necessary.”

“I… don’t know if I can. I don’t know what’s right, what’s necessary…”

“What do you know? Maybe start there.”

She nods. “You are very sage for one so young.”

I laugh. “How old are you? Ah…”

“Seventy-nine.”

“Oh. You don’t look a day over twenty.”

She ducks her head, but I spied a smile first. It’s crazy to see a lizard smile.

“We don’t age like animal lizards,” she says.

“Clearly.”

“You asked what I do know. I know that our work isn’t done, and Jiku and I will remain fighting until the very end.”

“Thank you for that.” I straighten, standing tall. “Adriana, that was brilliant. You going to get the magic-dampening cuffs was a stroke of sheer genius.”

“We should have been more prepared,” she murmurs.

“For the next round, we will be,” I assure her. “But first…”

I grab the chain of the cuffs. Darko glowers at me but says nothing. If he wanted to, the gargoyle could bite me, but I hold my scythe at the ready. If he tries anything, I won’t hesitate to kill him.

“Are you sure letting him live is the best idea?” Zanatre asks.

Honestly, I don’t know if this is the right choice or not, but I think it’s the only choice for now, so I nod.

“We’ll deal with him later, once we’ve handled the harpies.”

“Fifty-five of them versus… eight, no, seven of you.” The gargoyle shakes his head. “Not good odds, I’m afraid.”

“You aren’t afraid, but you should be,” Zanatre snaps. “We took you down, didn’t we?”

“You didn’t kill me, and one day, I will be released, and on that day, you will rue—”

“I never have any regrets ever,” Zanatre declares. “It’s my motto. No regrets.”

With that, she turns around, stomps over to Sommeil, grabs his shoulders, pauses as if just realizing now she’s her gargoyle self, and wavers. Darko begins to laugh, and that gives Zanatre the motivation to become her human and kiss Sommeil square on the lips.

Oh. Okay. All right then.

Shaking my head, I take out my pouch, and we all head over to Magical Prison, even the salamanders.

Aiden is waiting outside by the door. How he knew we would be coming, I don’t know, but I would love to see the look on Niko’s face when Darko is brought to his cell.

“I’ll handle this one,” Aiden says easily.

Darko says not a word as the fairy comes up to him and pushes on the gargoyle’s back to make him move forward.

Before they enter the prison, an angel guard flies down. Out a window maybe? Her armor is iridescent, and her gold-tipped translucent wings hardly flutter as she hangs suspended a few feet above us. Her eyes are completely white.

“I am Portia,” she says calmly. “Bringing down a gargoyle the likes of Darko could not have been an easy task. Do any of you need to make use of a healer? We have a well-renowned doctor…”

I glance at Simone.

“Please,” she murmurs, “but we do not have much time to spare. We have more work to do.”

“Right this way.” The angel sweeps her arm and directs us to the infirmary, which is not far off from the room Adriana and I spoke to Niko.

Portia leaves us then, and I’m shocked to see that the doctor is a sprite.

“I am Pervinca,” she says. “How can I help you?”

“Doctor, if you could—” I start.

“Please. Just call me Pervinca,” she says. Her light brown eyes narrow as she takes us in. Her red wings flutter even though her feet touch the floor as she walks around us, examining us. I swear the eyes near the tips of her wings are also checking us over.

The sprite is capable and thorough, but above all, she’s proficient. She brews a drink—maybe a potion—for Simone. For Zanatre, she makes a kind of green paste that smells almost obnoxiously sweet to apply on her wounds.

Pervinca pauses in front of Adriana and murmurs something. Does the sprite hand her something? I can’t be sure.

For the sandman, she lays her hands on him and removes the last dregs of water from his bath.

"I don't know what that boogeyman did to the water so that it wouldn't leave your body entirely," she remarks, having heard the skimmed-down version of the tale. I keep glaring at Sommeil so he wouldn't spend two hours detailing the adventure. We need the sprite to focus so we can get back to it. He doesn't need to go off on a hundred tangents or give unnecessary developments.

“I don’t know. When I shower, it doesn’t affect me like this.”

“Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to announce a secret that you never shower,” I can’t help joking.

Sommeil opens his mouth then shuts it and shrugs. For the most part, he's been very quiet and subdued since the kiss. Simone hasn't been her normal flirty self either. Are the two dating? Were they? Did Zanatre ruin things between them? I don't know, but I do know Sommeil needs his head in the game.

Finally, the sprite stands before me. “You do not have physical injuries, do you?”

“A couple bruises and small cuts. I’m fine.”

“Mostly,” she murmurs. She turns to a cabinet, riles around a bit, and then hands me a diamond-shaped potion bottle.

“What’s this?”

“It will give you the strength you need for what is to come.”

Just like that, it feels as if the weight of the world has descended on me. The fight ahead is going to be massive. If we win, it’s quite possible fifty-five harpies will be dead.

And if I don’t help each and every one of them, they might return as vengeful ghosts.

Those five we killed… I didn’t even think to guide them. I didn’t feel the pull, either, so that should mean they descended to Hell.

Even so, I’m shaken to the core. What is happening to me? How can it be that I’ve basically forgotten to do my solemn, sacred duty?

Have I turned that much into a killer that I don’t view death and even life the same as I should?

This job, this profession…

My parents were right to hate it.

Maybe I’m starting to second-guess my life’s choices.

For now, though, I will do what needs to be done. It’s not the first time I’ve had to guide the one I killed to their final resting place, and I will do it again, as many times as is needed.

The harpies grew an army, but we've cut it down to size. They no longer have any allies.

And now, they will face the consequences of their actions by the blade of my scythe.

CHAPTER 29

P ervinca is already starting to walk away.

“Should I drink it now?” I ask her.

She turns back to me. “If I were you, I would.”

I unstopper the bottle and drink. It tastes like rainbows and sewers.

Don't ask me how I know what either of those tastes like. Just trust me, okay?

Pervinca helps the salamanders, rubbing lotion onto their backs so that the harpies talons will not penetrate their skin or be able to pick up the fiery lizards. Once finished, the sprite clasps her hands as I place the bottle down on a nearby table. "I would like to do whatever else you need. What—"

“We need to be going,” Adriana says urgently.

I reach for my cell. “Where—”

“We don’t have much time,” the oracle says, still desperate.

We all clasp hands, relying on Adriana to take us where we need to go.

As soon as we arrive, I can feel the familiar heat of Hell. I’ve only guided souls there, but even in my grim reaper state, the heat clings to you like a dark stain, like an open wound.

Maw of Death.

It’s not that far off, the volcanic mountain. I almost expect to see demons crawling out from the precipice, but there isn’t anything to see there.

From the south, a black mass blots the horizon.

The harpies.

They decided to go back to their original plan and gain demons to fight with them.

“We have to block them,” I say firmly.

“Simone, how strong and sturdy is your javelin?” Jiku asks.

“It’s capable enough,” the witch says. “What is it you have in mind?”

The salamander slithers over and waits for her to hold her javelin. “When they come within range…”

“You want me to throw the javelin with you on it,” she muses. “With a bit of my wind, it should work.”

“Anyone else have a spear?” Shyn asks eagerly.

I can’t be of assistance. The whip isn’t capable of handling what she requires. The bladed boomerang is too small, and my scythe isn’t an option either.

“If only the selkies had stayed,” she grumbles when she realizes no one else can help her.

The harpies are coming in fast. Zanatre rears up and flies, hovering above us.

“Don’t you dare go flying off to try to take them all on by yourself,” Sommeil calls up to her.

“How cute. You care,” she says, sounding like her old sarcastic self, and I grin.

It’s like a huge black bomb heading our way, the threat of the harpies hanging on us all. They’ll be here any minute now.

Smoke sears my nostrils. The salamanders have made a contained fire once again, but as Zanatre sends out a monstrous blast of fire, I snap my whip into the flames and then coil my whip back and snap it to knock one harpy into another.

The attack is fierce and from all sides. The harpies don’t fight us one on one. Now, they dive down, fighting many of us, ganging up on us, and I cut through them with my scythe and use my whip. A moment later, I spy my bladed boomerang heading to my right.

I glance over to see it return to Adriana’s hand. When she stole it from me, I don’t know, and I don’t mind at all as she continues to fend off against three harpies.

Simone’s javelin flies through the air. Jiku’s frill wobbles wildly, and then he leaps onto the back of a harpy, blasting fireballs in all directions, burning some, singeing feathers, and creating havoc as he jumps onto another harpy’s back.

Not to be outdone, Shyn jumps up. Sommeil whisks her away on a platform made of sand. There’s a difference between his sand and his sand, the kind that puts people to sleep, so we don't have to worry about that. He uses my sickle for any harpies who venture too close.

Simone lets out a shriek. A harpy has her talons on Simone’s short hair, and the witch is in the air, feet pedaling.

My chain whip snaps through the air and wraps around the witch’s waist. I pull back, and she flies to me. I catch her and place her down on the ground. “Are you all right.”

She eyes the whip. “What a weapon,” she murmurs. “My javelin…”

It spirals through the air back to her. She catches it, brushes the sand from it, and winks at Sommeil. “A little boost here, s’il vous plait.”

The sandman conjures a sand platform and then another, just enough for her to leap from one to the other. Using her javelin as a spear, she chops down one harpy after another.

Zanatre is doing her part. She grabs harpies and bashes them together or knocking them into one another to make them crash or at least knock them off course.

The harpies, though, despite their numbers dwindling, keep on coming. It doesn't take me long to realize there's one that's hanging back. A scar down the right side of her face makes her look fierce, and her body reminds me of an eagle's.

She’s a predator, that one, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s their leader.

My chain whip snaps through the air, but she coyly flies above it. Before I can yank it back, she clutches the skull in her talons and jerks on it.

In a split second, I have to make a choice.

Do I release the chain whip and let her have it?

Or do I hold on tight?

Maybe I do have a death wish after all because, with a quick flick of my wrist, I ensure the whip won't be yanked out of my hand. My gloved hand flexes as I grip the chain whip and hold on tight.

The harpy lets out a laugh that sounds like a hyena’s as she soars up higher and higher. I attach the scythe to my holster on my back and start to climb up the chain.

That promptly shuts her up.

“What’s the matter?” I taunt. “You thought you were safe from the likes of me?”

“You have no idea what I think,” she hisses. “You can kill us all, but that won’t matter.”

Although baffled by her words, I risk looking around at the battlefield waging all around us and below us. The collection of dead harpies is piling up fast.

"Yes, yes, a real feast for the crows, isn't it?" she asks. "I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you to not be able to tend to those souls. How long do you think you have until you need to be concerned with them turning into ghosts?"

"They aren't being murdered," I say through gritted teeth as I resume my climb. Normally, I love that my whip is so very long, but right now, I could curse past me for this colossal mistake.

“No? You came here with your weapons drawn… We should have put up a stronger fight when it was just the two of you.”

"Yeah, too bad my grim reaper show scared too many of you," I say with a grin. As much as I want to reveal my skull right now, I can't risk it. She's right. The souls of the harpies are begging to be released, to be guided, and that siren call within me to tend to them will prove too much, I fear, if I tap into my grim reaper side.

“Oracles aren’t the only ones who can see the future,” the harpy says with a cackle. “Maybe we just feigned our fear.”

I’m close enough to her now that the scythe’s long reach should be able to… to…

It’s cold. Freezing cold.

Deathly cold.

And the din of the fighting sounds so utterly far away.

The harpy. She’s been flying higher and higher this entire time, and I don’t know how she can breathe, how she can flap her wings. It’s so very cold that I’m not sure how my hand is able to remain curled around the chain whip.

If anything, the harpy is picking up speed, going faster and faster. Down below, I see my friends all together. Some of them are wounded, but all of them are upright.

And they aren’t fighting anymore.

She’s the last one remaining.

“You aren’t going to survive this,” I tell her.

“No?” She grins. “Neither will you, though.”

"Why?" It's getting harder and harder to breathe. The more I try to fill my lungs, the more pain I feel. Worse than that, I'm creating so much fog it's giving her an eerie halo that calls to mind an angel of death.

A bit too on the nose for my liking.

“Why not?” Her cackle is a bit weak.

My arms burn. I can sense Simone’s javelin. She must be using her wind to guide it, but it’s far too slow. A bit of sand is creeping toward us, but even Sommeil has his limits. There’s nothing Adriana can do.

As for Zanatre, the gargoyle is zooming up toward us, but she’s not at full health. She’s climbing, but she’s laboring, and she won’t reach us.

It’s on me.

It’s all on me.

My grip on the scythe tightens, but I don’t have it in me to detach it from my back.

I try again and again, but I can’t.

And then I do.

Only for the scythe to slip through my fingers and fall to the ground.

Isn’t that a wonderful entry for the death log?

What can I do? What else do I have?

The pouch. The pouch of fairy dust.

I hold onto the chain whip as tightly as my frozen fingers can so I can hold it through the jump, and now, I'm on the harpy's back. I barely have the strength to wrap my arm, and the chain, around her neck, but I manage somehow. The higher she climbs, the more the chain chokes her until she has no choice but to sink lower and lower. As she does, my strength begins to return, and I tighten the hold, tighter, tighter. There's a slight pop, and her wings stop flapping. She drops like a stone, and Zanatre snatches me. The harpy comes with because of the whip, but I have her mostly untangled by the time we descend.

With a grim smile, I slid down from Zanatre’s back. We did it.

There’s no celebration to be had, though. The harpies are dead, but that’s just the beginning of our issues.

CHAPTER 30

Simone won’t allow me to run off to do my psychopomp duties, not until she thaws out my hands first. She wants to make sure I’m completely healed first, but I can’t give her any more time than I already did. Some of the harpies have been dead for too long for me to wait a moment more.

By the time I’ve guided the harpies all to Hell, I’m exhausted. Shyn and Jiku bid a fond farewell, and I think I spy Jiku nudge Shyn and get a small smile out of her before they use some fairy dust to return to their mountain.

“Donovan,” Adriana gasps. “Your arm.”

I glance down. My right arm is covered in blood.

“I’m not sure when that happened,” I confess. I try to move my arm, but it’s stiff and sticky.

Simone’s hands glow as she holds them above my arm. “It’s deep, I’m afraid,” she murmurs. “I will do what I can to help you, but I don’t think I can heal it entirely.”

“Just do what you can. Thank you.”

“De rien,” she murmurs. “You’re welcome, Donovan.”

I glance around, grateful that the others seem to be mostly fine. Zanatre isn't as wounded as she had been previously. Adriana seems to be holding her one arm a bit gingerly while Sommeil looks positively drained. Simone has a ton of cuts and scrapes, but she's smiling as she works on me.

“What do you want to do now?” I ask them all.

“We have no choice,” Adriana protests. “We need to head back to Headquarters.”

“Ah.” I wave a hand. “You can come to my place. We can eat a bit—”

Sommeil roars with laughter. “If we eat a large meal, we’re all going to conk out, no sand needed. Your oracle is right.”

I gape at him. Did he seriously just call Adriana my oracle in front of her? She’s not my anything.

Not yet at least.

“I guess, yeah, okay, we can go to Headquarters,” I mumble, hoping Adriana and the others didn’t realize what he just said.

“Smile, boys,” Simone scolds, draping an arm across my shoulders and Sommeil’s. “This is the end of it. The yeti died, tragically, I am sorry to say, but the harpies responsible are dead too. Their evil plan has been foiled—”

“We still don’t know what their evil plan was,” I point out.

“Don’t be so pessimistic!” She tweaks my nose.

“Let’s just heal and punch out,” Zanatre says. “I don’t know about you guys, but I want to put this to rest so I can head on home, shove something into my mouth, and hit the hay.”

“Do gargoyles sleep on hay?” Simone asks innocently.

“We aren’t horses,” Zanatre responds, her tone flat.

My chuckle is cut off from our joining hands, and Adriana sends us to Headquarters, just outside the front door.

The oracle opens the door for us, and my heart sinks. So much for this being the end to the craziness. All around us, the place is descending into chaos. Paranormal hunters, slayers, and executioners are milling about aimlessly, as if they have no assignments and nothing to do, which can’t possibly be the case. Not this many of them.

Adriana walks forward and weaves her way through the crowd. She starts to pick up some speed, and her urgency has me following her. The others trail behind me, and we head to the oracle wing.

There’s even more chaos here, and I spy Damara up ahead. When her strange eyes meet mine, Damara heads down the hallway to us.

“You’re back from your assignment from Adriana,” she says. “How did it… Simone? Why are you here?”

Simone snorts. “Like you have to ask with these two. They required my expertise.”

“You’re all right then?” Damara notices Adriana and gives her a hug.

After a moment, Adriana returns the embrace awkwardly. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Damara pulls back, her hands holding Adriana’s elbows. “What’s wrong is that… Adriana…” The oracle glances at the rest of us.

“You can tell me in front of them,” Adriana assures her.

But Damara says nothing.

“Is it your ability to see the future?” Adriana murmurs.

My heart sinks.

“I can’t see the future correctly,” Damara admits. “What’s worse is that… Can you?”

Adriana shakes her head.

“None of the oracles can,” Damara mutters. “I… I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

And the oracle rushes away.

Simone gapes at her backside. “None of the oracles—”

“Not here.” Adriana marches to her office, and we all file inside. Zanatre’s her human self. I think she switched over when we arrived.

“Is this as bad as I think it is?” Sommeil asks.

“Worse, much worse,” Adriana says. She starts to pace, her head down, her chin almost touching her chest, her hands clasped behind her back.

After a moment, she stops her pacing. Her braid has nearly come entirely undone, and she sets about fixing it. Maybe it’s to calm her.

I need something to calm me, too, and I brush my fingers along the dark gray skull resting on my chest.

“If we can’t discover what’s going on with our visions…” Adriana starts.

“Maybe it’s a lunar thing,” Sommeil suggests. “That Red Moon the vampires like so much, isn’t that coming up soon? Maybe that could explain things.”

“It’s never happened before,” Adriana says.

"Never? Not once?" Simone asks softly, brushing back her hair and wincing. Her scalp is probably still sore from her hair being yanked.

Adriana just ruefully shakes her head.

“Well, that’s impressive,” the blue-eyed witch murmurs with admiration.

Zanatre rubs her arms, pushing up her shirt sleeves and revealing the swirling marks on her arms in the process. “There has to be some kind of logical—”

“Magic doesn’t always have a logical explanation,” Simone says maybe a little haughtily.

“No, but then not all magic is created equal,” Zanatre says. “Time—the present, the past, the future—that’s pretty logical and standard, don’t you think? So it would follow that—”

“Time isn’t linear,” Sommeil says.

“It’s linear,” I tell him. “We live. We die. We don’t live, die, and live again.”

“What I mean,” the sandman says, rolling his eyes, his wide lips pressing into a line for a moment before he continues, “is that time is fluid.”

“It’s sand in an hourglass, yes,” I say. “It’s finite for us all.”

“The fabric of time, the weavings… I don’t know what’s happening.” Adriana starts to unravel her braid again.

“How can we help?” I ask.

“You can’t. It’s not up to you. It’s not up to us, either. Time is…” Adriana throws up her hands before working on her braid again.

“Are you worried that you won’t be able to see the present either?” I ask in a hushed whisper even though her office is small, and there’s no way we can talk privately right now.

She drapes the braid over her shoulder and stares at me. There are dark circles beneath her pale-pupiled eyes that I've never seen before. The time when she seemed frozen with the boogeyman comes back to me. She's been carting around this immense mountain of worry and fear without telling any of us the full extent of the issue for a long time. Adriana's been battling against doubt and fears and worry this entire journey. She's been fighting physically and emotionally… magically too.

Zanatre’s a survivor, yes, but Adriana’s a fighter on a whole different level.

“Not just the present,” Zanatre murmurs, sounding softer and gentler than ever. “The past too. Who are we both a manifestation of the actions of our past self? The culmination of our past identity and our experiences? If you no longer can see the past, how does that change who you are… Why are you all looking at me like that?”

We aren’t all looking at her. Adriana isn’t.

“I might enjoy a bit of philosophy at times,” Zanatre mumbles.

“A cultured gargoyle. Who knew?” I tease weakly to try to lighten the mood.

“Hey, she likes me. Of course she’s cultured,” Sommeil says smugly.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Zanatre warns. “One kiss means nothing.”

Somehow, I doubt that. I’ve only kissed a few girls in my lifetime, and I’m eyeing the one I want to kiss next. Not that now is the time for me to be worried about our future together, not when something is seriously wrong with the magic of all oracles. I was worried before when I thought the strangeness was solely on Adriana but to learn that it has spread to all of the oracles…

“You don’t understand,” Adriana blurts out suddenly. “None of you do. If we can’t see the future accurately, if we can’t fix this, then HEX Unite could be shut down. And what’s worse is that—”

“Evil paranormal creatures might take over not just the paranormal world, but the world of the humans as well,” I say grimly.

“Yes,” she murmurs. A single tear trickles down her cheek, and I want to brush it away, but I don’t.

Now isn’t the time for romance. It’s not the time for empty promises.

It feels like we just finished a war with that murderous swarm of harpies, but now, there's another threat looming, this time a magical hazard the likes of which we've never seen before.

Just what will the future have in store for not only HEX Unite but all of us?

Donovan, Adriana, Sommeil, and everyone at HEX Unite have a world of a problem on their hands! Be sure to grab the next book, Grim Turmoil, available for preorder now!

The HEX Unite trilogy is part of my A Mayhem of Magic World Story universe which starts with my Bedlam in Bethlehem series. It’s so much fun to keep expanding this world!

Please consider leaving a review if you enjoyed Grim Unrest! I love to read my reviews. Thank you!

Until next book,

~Nicole

OTHER BOOKS BY NICOLE ZOLTACK

Bedlam in Bethlehem series

Cops plus supernatural creatures

The Vampire Hunter Tribulations

Magical Hunters Academy trilogy

A school for paranormal teens to train to fight evil creatures

Blood Haven Academy trilogy

A paranormal retelling of Romeo and Juliet

Moonstone Academy trilogy

A half-werewolf, half demon and a cursed werewolf… What can go wrong?

Magical Prison trilogy

A fairy tries to free her twin from prison and save the world

Rebel, Supernatural Bounty Hunter trilogy

A human hunts supernaturals

HEX Unite trilogy

A grim reaper, a sandman, and their friends try to save the world

Magic Incarnate Series

Magic + Faith + Teens

Heroes of Falledge trilogy

A superhero struggles to find love and save his town

Age of Dragons Series

A tale of lost magic and dragon riders

Once Upon a Darkened Night Series

Twisted Fairy Tales - the villains are now the heroes

The Queenmaker Series

YA Female King Arthur Retelling

The Winged Beast Chronicles

Dragons enslave humans.

Magical Awakening written as Nicole Beyer

Friends attempt to save a friend from a magical sickness

Beyond Boundaries

Can love cross class boundaries?

Masked Love

Starry Love

Standalones

Moonstruck

Gender-bent Cinderella set in NOLA

Dark Hunt

Vampires vs witches vs humans

Bloodlust

Epic fantasy with forbidden love

Not on Her Watch

A military romance

The Test of Time

Unpredictable time travel

Love Before Honor

Medieval knight. Regency lady. Magical Christmas.

Joy to the World

One lady. Two dukes, one an imposter

Christmas Kisses

Two gentlemen, only one Lady Anna’s mother approves of

Starving for Love

The Little Mermaid with a zombie twist

Guns and Fangs

A vampire huntress turns into that which she hates

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nicole Zoltack is a USA Today bestselling author who loves to write romances. Of course. She did marry her first kiss, after all!

When she’s not writing about knights, superheroes, or witches, she enjoys spending time with her loving husband, three energetic young boys, and precious little girls. She enjoys riding horses (pretending they’re unicorns, of course!) and going to the PA Renaissance Faire dressed in garb. She’ll also read anything she can get her hands on. Her current favorite TV shows are The Witcher and Stranger Things.

Sign up for her newsletter to learn when her next book is released as well as excerpts, cover reveals, and giveaways!

For more information

www.NicoleZoltack.com

Nicole.Zoltack@NicoleZoltack.com

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Normally, I always mention my husband first. I’ll get to him, don’t worry, but first, I have to thank a very special reader.

Alison Mackowski!

Alison picked the name for the raven in the story. Obsidian—Sid—is the perfect name for the raven IMO. As soon as I saw your suggestion, I had to go with it!

For the rest of my readers whose name I didn’t pick, you might want to keep on reading the series. It’s possible that Sid might have some friends who’ll show up later on. ;)

Now, I have to thank my husband. lol I’m sure it can’t be easy being married to a writer, and I am so appreciative of all the support over the years. I love you, Todd! Thank you to my wonderful children for understanding that Mommy has work she has to do, but she still does and always will love you!

To some of the best writer friends a girl could ever have. You know who you are and I can’t wait until we can retreat again!

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my wonderful street team. You keep me going, and I’m writing for you and for all of my fans. Thank you for all you do for me!

And finally, I want to acknowledge my readers. You are why I write. As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep writing. So please keep reading, all right?

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Hi, readers! I absolutely hate proofreading errors. My editor, proofreaders, and I try to find them all, but sometimes, a few will slip through. If you find any, please feel free to email at Nicole.Zoltack@gmail.com or message me on FB with the errors. I’ll correct the file as soon as I can get to it!

Oh, and if you’d like, feel free to tell me anything else you like—something about the stories, the characters, if there’s any story you would want me to tell?

Finally, if you would like to join my beta reader team or my ARC team, be sure to mention that too!

I’m off to write the next book!

~Nicole

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Contents

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Other Books By Nicole Zoltack

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Author’s Note