Page 90 of Bride of Death

Sera

“Pip!”I whisper-shout, frustrated that he’s nowhere to be found or seen.

Maliki stands nearby, expression skeptical. “You’re sure this soul of yours is real, yeah?”

“You’re sure I’m an Omega, yeah?” I toss back at him.

His lips twitch. “Touché, sweet mystery. Proceed in beckoning your pet spirit.”

I grit my teeth and try again.

Nothing.

“Come on, Pip,” I say, exasperated. “They’re making me move, and I don’t want to leave without at least saying goodbye.”

“Makingis a strong word choice, as well as inaccurate,” Maliki inserts.

I glare at him. “Nothing about my life is a choice, Maliki. Everything has been predecided because of an evil soul. So if I want to say I’m being forced to do something, you can bet that it’s true.”

Some of his amusement slips. “Sera…”

My eyebrow lifts as I wait for him to finish whatever he’s about to say. But he falls silent. Just my name, his voice lacedwith so much apology that I know he’s feeling sorry for me. “Please don’t pity me.”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” I correct him. “Life is never fair. I accepted that a very long time ago.”

More sorrow enters his golden eyes, forcing me to look away.

And as I do, I spy a little flurry of color in my bedroom.

“Pip!” Darting to the door, I look inside and see him floating near my bed with his hands behind his back, his head turned down.

There’s a solitary dead flower on my pillow.

“Where have you been?” I ask him.

He floats around nervously, his fiery orb-like eyes darting up as Maliki joins me in the doorway. Pip instantly scurries back toward the wall, his cloak rattling in a way that makes it look like he’s shaking.

“What is that on your bed?” Maliki asks slowly. “And where is your little soul?”

I frown. “He’s right there.” I point at Pip, who is now gaping at me with wide eyes, like he can’t believe I just gestured toward him. “What’s wrong, Pip?” He begins to shake, true sorrow painting his features. “Hey,” I say, softer now as I start to approach him. “What’s going on? Why are you so spooked?”

Maliki snorts. “Now there’s a good ghost joke.”

“Shh,” I hush the unhelpful assassin and focus on Pip. “Can you write to me?”

Pip shakes his head, his gaze flickering between me and Maliki.

My brow furrows. “I don’t understand. You always write to me.”

“He doesn’t want me to see him,” Maliki says. “Assuming he’s a real soul and just playing hide-and-seek in the in-between.”

I glance back at him. “What?”

“I can’t see him,” he reiterates. “But you’re saying he’s here, right?”

“Yes.” I look at Pip, who is again staring at me with a look of betrayal. “You don’t want Maliki to know you’re here?”