Page 2 of Veil of Death and Shadow (Order of Reapers #1)

2

MAREENA

Six Years Ago (The Aftermath of The Undoing)

S omething hard, dry, and small rained down on my face.

With a grunt, I opened my eyes, blinking as I slowly adjusted to the light.

I shifted slightly and winced.

A thin, angry red line appeared on the back of my hand. I pulled the small thorn from where it was embedded in my skin, then flinched when a twig bounced off my forehead.

“What the hell?” I shifted again, trying to better position myself.

I was sitting in a bush, it seemed, only I couldn’t exactly recall how I’d gotten here.

I was vaguely aware of a small thud, before an ache bloomed on top of my head.

Sitting in my lap, looking inconspicuous and not at all like it was trying to murder me, was a small, shiny stone.

I glanced up just in time to duck away as another pebble came spiraling towards me.

A crow swooped into sight, its beak stuffed with a small bundle of twigs and rocks.

With a loud caw, the bird opened its mouth, dropping the mess unceremoniously onto my head.

“Ow, what the fuck?” I shifted, ignoring the soft tearing sound as another thorn scraped and tugged at my jacket, the bush reluctant to release me from its grip.

I stood up too quickly though and had to grab onto the closest tree as my body fought to bring me back down to a lower center of gravity.

I’d passed out and apparently woken up inside a fucking murder forest.

My head rang and ached with an unrelenting pressure I’d never experienced before.

A wad of grass sprinkled down around me, like I was stuck in a fucked-up snow globe.

A quick glance revealed the culprit—the crow was back, its beak half-full of foliage that it casually peppered over me.

“Stop being a fucking menace.” I groaned, dodging his talons when he swooped down low.

What was I doing here? How had I even gotten here in the first place?

My memory was watery and murky, disappearing into a distorted pool each time I tried to grab hold.

I reached for my phone out of habit but found only the black screen of judgment—and my own withered expression—staring back at me.

No charge. Great.

There was a soft whir that grew louder, and I jumped when the crow hopped on my shoulder, its wings flapping chaotically as they tangled in my hair.

I let out an embarrassing squeal and then froze as its beak poked awkwardly through the thick, knotted strands of my hair, not entirely sure what to do.

I tried swatting him away, but that seemed to only further piss him off, burying him deeper into my hair, his beak scratching at the base of my skull with the promise of vengeance.

“Um,” I said, straining my neck as I tried to lean away from it. “Nice bird.” I cleared my throat, my mouth suddenly impossibly dry at the possibility that this little shit might try giving me a lobotomy at any second. “Please don’t eat me. I’m sorry I called you a menace. I’m sure as far as crows go, you’re actually very lovely.”

The bird tugged, and I winced, preparing for the worst, but he merely pulled out a stray twig and spat it down on the ground.

Was this violent little fucker grooming me?

My body relaxed slightly, as he found a few more bits of foliage and removed them.

I shrugged awkwardly, hoping that might encourage him to fly away, but he only seemed to plant his feet more firmly, cawing loudly in my ear as if in rebuke.

Right. Totally normal.

I didn’t at all feel like some discount fairytale’s new gothic princess.

I glanced around, half-expecting someone to jump out of the trees and claim their rabid bird.

As if reading my mind, the bird sprang from my shoulder, its flight path to the ground a little rough and rocky.

Slowly, I took a few steps back, hands held up in surrender. “Good bird. You stay here. I’ll get out of your hair—” I grimaced “—er, feathers, I mean.”

A twig cracked beneath my boot, and the crow whirled around, something gleaming in its beak as it squawked again.

Without another warning, it rushed forward in the air, heading straight towards my face—murder gleaming in its beady little eyes

I spun around, my arms shielding my head, and ran down the path, not looking back until I reached the staircase that led up to the street.

I took the uneven stairs two at a time, tripping a few times. I didn’t slow down though, ignoring my pounding headache and the stitch in my side, squinting against the sun as the park opened into the familiar neighborhood.

There was a strange stillness; not a person or car in sight, despite this usually being a heavily trafficked area during the day.

A quick glance behind me proved to be crow free, so I relaxed a little.

Wincing slightly, I peeled off my jacket. Every inch of my body pulsed and ached, like I’d been hit by a truck. I was also in serious need of a glass of water. My mouth felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

Something bounced off my head before dropping to the cement at my feet with a soft, metallic clang.

A ring.

I picked it up, the pad of my finger rolling over the familiar, spinning beads.

My ring.

I slid it on and stood up, before my brain had the wherewithal to process where it had come from.

When I glanced back, I found the satanic crow. It was a few inches away from my feet, standing inconspicuously on the sidewalk as if it hadn’t just tried to kill me, its head cocked to the side so one of its eyes could more directly lock on mine.

My thumb slid over the ring, and my memories started to stitch themselves back together.

Anniversary Extraordinaire.

Almost roadkill.

Mysterious man with the pretty hand.

Dead crow?—

Taking a deep breath, I glanced down at my feathered friend.

Not so dead.

Was it the crow’s friend? Or its mate? Do crows have mates? Or just murders?

Seattle was filled with crows, but as I mentally sorted through everything I knew about the species, it turned out the answer was, embarrassingly, very little.

I ran back down the stairs, back through the forest, until I found the spot of disheveled dirt and foliage where I’d watched the crow take its last breath.

Intuitively, I knew what I’d find but, logically, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it.

The patch of dirt was, well, just that—dirt. No dead crow in sight.

I turned around at the sound of soft rustling, to find the stalker crow hopping around awkwardly behind me, keeping more distance than he had before, as if he could sense my impending breakdown.

He was also very much alive.

Maybe he’d taken his friend somewhere?

Or, well, this was a forest. Home to all sorts of critters. Maybe some hungry crow-predator came and grabbed the corpse for a free, low-effort snack.

I shivered, sending a mental thanks that no coyotes had decided to pick at my flesh while I was passed out.

The crow ruffled its feathers, and I noticed that several of them stood out awkwardly on its right wing—like the wing was injured, maybe even broken.

My stomach lurched as I stared at him.

“It is you.” My tongue was rough and dry as I tried to find the words. “So you didn’t die.”

The crow just stared at me, still and silent—and with the judgmental air of a cat.

Right.

Not dead. Just playing dead.

A crow who played opossum. I nodded, satisfied. I could live with that reality.

It didn’t matter that I’d been truly certain that I had, in fact, watched it die—that I’d witnessed the light fade from its glassy dark eyes.

I was knocked out, maybe I remembered things incorrectly.

The bird let out another caw before awkwardly zooming into the air, clearly bored with my processing speed. Its flight pattern was rough and stilted as it tried to gain air. With no more warning than that, it landed on my right shoulder again, settling down into the crook of my neck as if the spot had been specifically designed as a place for him to rest.

Tentatively, I reached my left hand up and stroked the top of his head.

He nestled gently into my fingers, before burrowing down against my neck and going quite still, as if that was all there was to be said.

“Okay,” I sighed. “I guess you’re coming with me.” I shifted so that I could get a look at him, “but only until we get your wing healed up.” I sighed, my chest loosening up a bit, now that I was fairly certain the bird wasn’t, in fact, trying to kill me. At least Sora will be happy. She loves animals.” Once I convinced myself that I was being stalked by Death, I’d made a very conscious decision to never have a pet. A person could only process so much grief in one lifetime. “No getting comfortable though, understand? You’re a wild animal and wild animals belong in the wild.” Sora might cave, but I sure as hell wouldn’t. “Once your wing is healed, you’re back on your?—”

The words dissolved on my tongue.

Fuck.

Sora.

Anniversary Extraordinaire.

I was so incredibly late.

My phone was dead.

And I was talking to a fucking zombie crow.

Whispering a quick “hang on,” I took off through the park, my pace uneven and tense at first, as I tried to adjust to the feel of a bird on my shoulder without knocking him off, but evening out by the time I finally got to Frank’s.

I burst through the door, my hands on my knees, as I bent over, panting. Running was very much not my thing. “I know, I know, I’m late. I’m sorry, I can explain. Sort of. Seriously you won’t bel —”

My gaze shot to our usual booth. It was empty. I glanced around. The entire place was empty actually, the usual bustle of the small diner absent altogether.

The too-bright light above me flickered a few times, illuminating the strangeness of the quiet scene.

How long had I been out for? It couldn’t have been that long, could it? It was still light out.

Frank’s was open every day, from dawn until well after the night rush. The man hardly slept or took a break.

In fact, we usually ended most of our late nights here, ready for a mediocre but greasy cure for whatever future hangover we had brewing. The place wasn’t exactly a tourist hotbed, but it was never this empty.

“Frank?” I called out, reaching around the counter where I knew he kept a few stray phone chargers. “You here? How long ago did Sora leave?”

I plugged my phone in, but the light illuminating the diner flickered and then went out altogether.

A quick glance at my phone told me the charger wasn’t working either.

Maybe there was some electrical issue? Power outage? Did he forget to pay the power company?

Hard to picture Frank closing the diner down even for that.

A door creaked, followed by the familiar hammering beat of Frank’s steps as he rushed down the stairs that led up to his apartment.

He wasn’t wearing his usual greasy apron, and when his face emerged below the dip of the staircase, his dark eyes were blown wide, like he’d just seen a ghost. His deep brown skin was washed of its usual glow, and the soft wrinkles in his forehead turned into trenches as he took me in.

“Mareena?” His body deflated with relief, his grip loosening on a baseball bat that hung limp at his side. “Thank god. Where the hell have you been?”

I eyed the weapon. “Woah now, no need for that,” my tone half teasing, half not. “You okay, Frank?” I nodded around the small dining room. “Where is everybody? You try a new recipe again? You know what we’ve told you about experimenting.” I grinned awkwardly. “Don’t.”

His last attempt at a menu upgrade had included an unidentifiable monstrosity composed, in part, of pickles and peanut butter. A truly egregious combination that I doubted even a pregnant person with unusual cravings would want. Most of his regulars, Sora and I included, had boycotted the place for a week in protest.

I thought we’d successfully convinced him to stick with run-of-the-mill sandwiches, salads, and food that could just be tossed into the fryer after that.

His thick salt-and-pepper brows met as he studied me, like he was assessing every inch for injuries. “Where’ve you been, Mareena? Sora’s been looking for you.” He shook his head, studying me. “For days.”

I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it again. What did he mean for days ?

“That roommate of yours has been hopping back and forth between this diner and your apartment for three days now, despite the very clear orders to stay inside.”

“Three days?” My stomach growled, as if it had just caught up to the fact that it was, in fact, deeply aware of exactly how many days it had been since I’d last fed it anything. “What orders?”

Frank sighed and ran his hand through his thin hair, scratching lightly at the top, which was just shiny brown scalp. He leaned the baseball bat against the stairwell and walked behind the counter. He grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and set it down, nodding towards the stool across from him.

I sat, my body feeling suddenly exhausted. I held the first sip of water in my mouth for a minute, savoring the cool feeling as it washed over my tongue. Then I finished the rest of the glass in one impatient chug.

He grabbed a bag of bread, a jar of peanut butter, some of those mini plastic jam containers he served with toast in the mornings, and got to work.

“I’d cook you something properly, but the electricity has been faulty since the outage, and I don’t trust it right now.” He grunted, then nodded at me without looking up from his work. “What’s with the bird?”

I stiffened. I’d all but forgotten about the crow that had hitched a ride. “Long story. What’s going on?”

He chuckled, but there was no humor to the sound. “Long story.”

He slid a plate with the sandwich towards me and grabbed a banana from an overripe bunch on the counter. “Eat this, too. You look like shit.”

“I woke up in a bush,” I shot back, shoving the sandwich into my mouth, offering some of the crumbs to the crow as an afterthought.

He took a few, only half interested, before Frank opened the small, almost-empty jar of dog treats he kept for the local pups on the counter. Frank may have generally pretended to hate his customers, but he also genuinely loved his customers' dogs. A true Seattleite if ever there was one. “Break these up and give the pieces to him. Heard crows like dog food.”

I did as he said, setting the shattered biscuit chunks on the counter.

The crow wriggled free from my shoulder, and hopped onto the counter, his claws clacking tentatively as he walked. He jabbed one of the larger crumbs with his beak a few times, hesitant and curious, before eagerly devouring the crumbled-up treat.

Frank’s mouth curved into a half grin as he shook his head. “Crows are fucking menaces—constantly messing up my trash out back. Can’t believe I’m allowing one on my counter.”

“Trust me, I know.” I finished my sandwich, both of us watching the strange bird as he tapped at the treat jar, demanding more. “You said he—how do you know it’s a dude?”

Though now that I thought about it, I’d been unconsciously referring to him as a he, too.

He shrugged. “Don’t. But he’s pretty big, and the boys are usually a bit larger than the gals.”

I nodded, moving on to the banana and the glass of water Frank had already refilled twice for me. That was a good enough explanation for me.

“So, three days,” I said after my stomach and throat were no longer screaming at me.

The crow was making a dramatic affair of filling its beak with water from a small bowl Frank pushed towards him and tilted his head back awkwardly to swallow.

“Oh thank god, you’re fucking here.”

I grunted as a familiar soft, floral scent washed over me.

Sora squeezed me so tight that I dropped my partially devoured banana and fought to take a breath. “You didn’t bother to come let me know you’d found her? Where the hell was she?”

“She just wandered in here with a bird and her hair full of twigs, like some feral child of the forest not five minutes ago.” Frank’s expression dipped into a defensive scowl. “She needed a meal. I fed her. What more do you want from me? I own a diner, not an investigative business.”

“I’m okay.” I ducked out of Sora’s arms and turned towards her. “Really, I’m okay. I think.” I studied her and frowned. Her usually bright, teasing expression was nowhere in sight. Instead, there were dark circles under her black eyes and a grayish hue to her pale skin—which had, somehow, grown even paler. Her bloodshot eyes welled with tears, and she didn’t even fight the two that escaped down her cheek. I pulled her to me again in a tight hug, applying pressure to her chest like she did for me whenever I felt overwhelmed or on the verge of a panic attack. “Are you?”

She sucked in a ragged breath, sinking her weight against me. “Where the hell have you been, Mars?” Her voice was low, raspy, and I could tell she was fighting back more tears. “You just disappear? For three days? And then you show up here?” She pulled back a few inches and gestured absently behind the counter, her button-nose scrunched in disgust. “To see him before even bothering to let me know you’re alive. I thought you were dead. For three days. Do you have any idea what that’s like? With everything going on right now? Do you know what I’ve been through? Imagining the absolute worst?”

I did know what that was like, actually. My brain provided me with a constant film reel of the worst things I could think of happening to the people in my life. The realization that I’d put her through something like that—even unintentionally—made me want to throw up.

Frank raised his brows, eyes wide, and stepped around the counter. “I’ll, er, leave you two girls to it. It’s been a day, and I could use a nap. Stay as long as you need.” He started towards the stairs, then stopped, removing the lid from the treat jar, before tossing Sora the bat, which she caught effortlessly. “And take that with you when you go, can’t be too safe on the streets right now. You’re not even supposed to be on them at all. Not that I’m surprised it’s you two breaking the rules.” He muttered the last sentence more to himself than to us.

The streets? He sounded like a character in a bad eighties B-movie. We were in a pretty safe part of the city, all things considered. There was hardly ever anything more concerning than a few break-ins, and those were almost always nonviolent—just people desperately in need of food and shelter in a city that made both increasingly difficult to access.

What the hell did I miss?

Sora snorted. “Like you haven’t also been out on the streets looking for her,” she shot back, her dark brow arched in challenge.

Sora was a thin, unassuming Japanese woman, whose head reached just below my shoulders—in heels. Her smile was sweet, her eyes often shining and kind. But those who knew her, knew her size and soft features were misleading. There was a hidden edge in that smile that flared to a smirk, a dark promise, whenever provoked. She had a face gentle enough to draw somebody in, but a tongue sharp enough to flay. And she was one of the few regulars brave enough to regularly challenge Frank—and charming enough to still be allowed to eat in his restaurant.

Of course, Frank always pretended to find her sometimes abrasive personality obnoxious and annoying, but I could often read through his gruff groans and flared nostrils. She amused him, and he maybe even respected her for not taking any of his shit. Some days, I was convinced that she was actually his favorite customer.

Other than the neighborhood dogs.

With a final grunt and nod in my direction, he climbed back up to his small oasis, the sound of his steps and the creaky wooden door, an ominous soundtrack to Sora’s lingering anger.

“Dude, where the hell have you been?” She nudged my shoulder, pulling my attention back to her.

Now that the wave of relief had dispersed, I could fully see what a wreck she was.

She was a hairstylist in an edgy studio downtown and her jet-black hair with bright-purple highlights was typically worn in pristine waves that looked like they were pulled straight out of a magazine.

Right now, her hair was a chaotic furl of knots with greasy roots, and there were a few spare brow hairs growing below the always perfectly plucked arches.

Sora was the kind of girl who wielded her style like a sword: perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect skin. She took care to mold herself into whichever mask she felt like wearing that day, her precision and skill both a weapon and armor she donned with meticulous attention.

Today, her defenses were down.

My stomach dipped. What the hell had I missed? I hadn’t seen her this off balance in years.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I literally just woke up in Ravenna Park. Had no idea how long I’d been out until I got here.”

“Why were you in Ravenna Park by yourself?” She fell back on the stool next to me and sighed, catching her chin in her hand. “I didn’t even think to thoroughly check down there, it’s nowhere near the route between here and the apartment. Think I did a quick scan at one point, but I didn’t see you. Didn’t see anyone.”

“I was sort of tucked inside of a bush.” I shrugged. “Would’ve been hard to spot.”

She nodded to the crow, his head now shamelessly buried deep inside the jar of treats. “And the bird?”

I studied him, still trying to wrap my head around the strange circumstances of his resurrection.

“Last thing I remember before passing out was touching him. He was—” I bit my lip, considering. “Well, he was dead. Or I thought he was dead, anyway.”

“Your first instinct when encountering a dead bird is to touch it?” she deadpanned. “You get that that’s weird behavior, right?”

“I don’t know what came over me.” I shook my head, gesturing to him as he obnoxiously devoured the crumbs. “Anyway, he’s obviously not dead, but I gave him a ring and now he insists on following me around. Sort of absurd, I know.”

“Generally, yes, but today, not really.” She studied me, her eyes darting between me and the crow. “Or at least, a zombie crow coming back from the dead to stalk you isn’t the most absurd thing to happen this week.”

“What do you mean?” I snorted. “What the hell beats a crombie?”

She sighed, her expression flattening into something more serious. Something that looked almost like fear. It was just a flash, then gone.

Sora had long mastered the ability to mask anything resembling vulnerability, no matter how disheveled she might look. Where we came from, vulnerability would be used against you. “Something big happened, the day you stood me up.”

“I did not stand you up,” I argued. “Not my fault I was knocked out.”

She shrugged, the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk. “Impact over intent.”

I shot her a look, silently demanding something less vague. Jokes aside, fear gathered tight and coiled in the base of my spine, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“I don’t know, Mars. I don’t want to say you slept through the apocalypse, but I think you sort of did.” She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers picking through some of the knots as she fought to find words. “Or maybe not the apocalypse, but some kind of war or attack or . . . something. Something big. Movie-franchise-finale kind of big. The news stations haven’t exactly been providing much information, and the government—as usual—isn’t really offering any insight or clarity into the matter. And the little bits of information I’ve been able to track down seem to contradict each other. They’ve put shelter-in-place orders out, told people to hunker down and wait, but they’re not saying much. Honestly, it feels almost like they don’t even know what’s going on.”

The lights flickered again, the hiccupping shadows adding more weight to her words.

She glanced up at the light fixture above us, the shadows it cast dancing ominously over her features. “That’s been happening a lot. Electricity everywhere has been fucked. An electromagnetic pulse or something, maybe. I don’t know. People are reporting some weird things.”

“Weird things like what?”

She didn’t speak for a long moment, and I got the sense that she was dreading having to put words to whatever she was about to say, like that might make it more real—like once it was said, it couldn’t be unsaid.

After a deep, slow inhale, the words tumbled out of her, as if of their own accord, all in one breath. “At first, I thought maybe it was just some electrical storm or maybe a weird data breach. Like a nerdy anarchist group trying to take out Big Tech, you know? Cell service has been absolute shit, too, completely unreliable. So, I guess I’m not actually mad Frank didn’t call. It probably wouldn’t have even gone through. Lord knows I’ve probably rung your number a thousand times in the last twenty-four hours alone. People have been complaining about cars randomly not starting, or sometimes even driving themselves—like there’s some kind of weird power surge going on or something. I don’t even know if power surge is the right term for it, to be honest.”

She paused; her breath shaky as she absently peeled at the edge of the counter where the worn plastic overlay was starting to curl. “But then, even stranger shit started to happen. Things no simple power surge or cyber-attack could explain.” She bit her lip, then glanced at me, uncharacteristically hesitant as she searched for her next words, these ones pouring out more like molasses than sand. “I’ve looked on a few message boards during the brief glimpses of internet I’ve been able to access—and people are reporting some seriously fucked up shit, Mars. Unexplainable shit. I didn’t believe it at first, until I saw some of it firsthand.”

“Sora, specifics. It’s okay, I’ll believe you, whatever it is. Just spill, okay? What did you see?” I held my breath as I waited for her to spell it out, my skin tingling like it sensed what was coming before I did.

“This is going to sound like I’m fucking with you, but I swear that I’m not.” She pressed her lips together into a tight line, like she was trying to swallow back the words, until they refused to be restrained a moment longer. “I saw a man transform yesterday, right in the middle of the street.”

“Transform?”

“One minute he was your average Seattle hipster twenty-something, then his bones started cracking,” she glanced at me, her voice quiet and flat. “Mars, he turned into a wolf. Literally.”

Silence engulfed us, broken only by the crow’s beak as it clacked against the now-empty glass jar.

“You saw a werewolf. Cute.” I grinned, expecting her to break into a laugh.

She didn’t.

“I’m not fucking with you.” There was a raw edge to her voice now, and I felt her desperate plea for me to believe her.

Whatever happened, she believed it. She actually believed she saw a werewolf.

I knew how powerful that kind of conviction in something could be, especially when you were alone in that truth—sometimes it was more real than anything else.

Intentionally or not, I’d left her alone in that belief, in that fear. For days.

“And that’s not all,” she continued, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly when I didn’t challenge or laugh at her. “People are reporting all kinds of things—supernatural things. Buildings randomly expelling people, folks suddenly appearing and disappearing into thin air, like a damn fantasy portal has swallowed them up and spit them out or something—or like they’re some sort of video game spawn. I don’t know, it’s—” She exhaled through her teeth, and I felt her fear sharpen in that breath. “I know it sounds like I’m on a bad acid trip or something. Trust me, I wish I was, but I’m not. You know me. I’ve never believed in this kind of shit. I’m usually the one trying to convince you that curses and what-not aren’t real, you know? But I’m telling you, either something supernatural is happening, or the whole world’s on one powerful ass acid trip with me. I mean,” she waved her hand frantically between us, “hello, you passed out for three days in a forest, right? What happened to you? You just woke up and that’s it? And now you have a zombie bird stalking you? That’s extremely weird and not normal, Mars. Something seriously fucked up is going on.”

I nodded; my throat suddenly dry again.

She wasn’t wrong.

“Look,” she said, “all I’m saying is you’re not the only one experiencing weird, unexplainable shit. Objectively weird is unfolding everywhere, and no one is giving us any answers.”

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry.”

She stared down at our hands, brows furrowed. It was rare for me to be physically affectionate. To initiate touch. Her eyes met mine, dark and shining. “Why are you sorry? I’m not saying any of this is your fault.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you. That you’ve been processing whatever’s going on without me. This sounds,” I shook my head, “fucking terrifying, and I’m sorry you were alone with it.”

Her chin dimpled as she swallowed, fighting to keep back tears. With a nod, she squeezed my hand back. “Me too, but I’m glad you’re here now.”

She dropped her head against my shoulder, resting there as I let everything she said wash over me.

There had to be some kind of explanation for all of this.

The world didn’t just one day go from the real to the unexplainable, did it?

My stomach sank as another reality grew heavy and unavoidable.

Sora was right.

I’d spent my life believing, in part, that I was either cursed or haunted by Death.

On some level, I’d always known that was impossible, ridiculous, even—no matter how real and concrete it often felt.

But if the impossible was suddenly possible, what did that say about my theoretical curse?

I wrapped an arm around Sora’s waist, tugging her closer to me, convincing myself that she was real, that she was here, that she was alive. At the end of the day, that was all I needed.

Curse or not, she hadn’t been taken from me, and whatever new possibilities this new world opened, I’d fight like hell to make sure she never was.

“Let’s go home,” I said.

She nodded.

I set my hand out on the counter and waited until the crow climbed back up my shoulder.

No idea why I thought he’d understand or respond to the gesture, but he did, quickly nestling himself into the crook of my neck.

The walk back to our apartment was quiet.

We took our usual route, which I was grateful for. I had no desire for detours right now. I wanted whatever semblance of normalcy was left.

The streets were mostly empty, and now that I wasn’t frantically running towards Frank’s, I noticed things that I hadn’t on the way over.

Like the fact that the traffic lights weren’t working, or at least not the way that they usually did. Some were completely off, but others shifted through patterns I’d never seen before. Instead of the usual green, yellow, and red, I watched them blink from pink to purple to blue.

A driverless car roamed right by us, missing Sora by only a few inches.

Another car was parked through what looked like someone’s otherwise pristine living room.

Most of the houses had their blinds pulled closed, like people were doing their best to keep whatever strangeness had been unleashed on the world out, to shelter in normalcy for as long as they could. Occasionally, I’d see a face poking between crooked blinds, but mostly the typically busy street was a ghost town, except for me and Sora.

And the crow.

I had no idea what to do with him, but I caught Sora’s gaze darting to him every minute or so.

Feeling weirdly exposed and vulnerable out here, I tugged my jacket tight around my body. There was a heaviness in the air that made it difficult to fully fill my lungs, and my skin tingled with an electric energy—the awareness of eyes on us that I couldn’t see, like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

When we got to our block, the bird ruffled his feathers and started shifting with unease.

Sora, catching on a second sooner than I did, reached her arm in front of me, stopping me from rounding the corner.

I froze, the three of us peering awkwardly around the bricked corner store. I started most mornings with a bagel and cup of coffee that Erin, the middle-aged owner, kept on the burner for too long. A quick glance inside and all I saw was a dark, empty store. Like Frank, she’d skipped work today, likely hunkering down in her home up north with her husband and two cats.

I looked around the corner and swallowed back a curse. There were three men I’d never seen before—not in and of itself a strange thing, Seattle was a busy, highly-populated place, but there was something odd about them.

Sora’s eyes met mine, wide and questioning, both of us too terrified to speak or move.

The air itself was suffocating, like it was drunk on electricity, hungry for power. For blood.

I focused on the tallest of the three men. He looked like your typical tech bro at first glance—white, lean, and dressed in casual clothes—but it was his white shirt that I couldn’t peel my eyes away from. It was covered in something dark, something that trailed from his chin and—I did a double take, blinking as if my eyes were simply out of focus, conjuring things up from my imagination—fangs.

The man standing next to him was shorter, but his body was stocky and firm, like he’d been sculpted from muscle and nothing else. Where the other stood casually, expression unreadable, this one’s face was contorted in rage, his eyes—a peculiar golden-yellow color—were locked on the man covered in what looked suspiciously like blood.

The third man was the most peculiar of the set. He watched the other two with an unreadable, almost bored expression, but I only spared him a passing glance at first.

I couldn’t pull my focus from the yellow-eyed one for long, every molecule in my body suddenly acutely attuned to him with an awareness that was almost dizzying.

The other two might as well have not even been there.

My gut churned with an impending sense of doom.

Something was wrong.

I could feel the man standing at a precipice, though I couldn’t explain how I knew that or where that precipice would lead once he fell over. But I knew that he would fall, with undeniable certainty.

Without warning, his neck bent back, his strange eyes almost aglow. A loud series of cracks and pops echoed through the otherwise quiet street.

His bones. They were breaking as his body twisted and contorted.

“What the?—”

Sora clasped her hand around my mouth and tugged me back behind the building so that we were out of sight. Her fingers trembled against my cheek.

She didn’t speak, but her eyes were wide, nostrils flaring, the warning etched across her expression clear as day— shut the fuck up or they’ll kill us .

We didn’t move, didn’t breathe for what felt like a full minute.

When I peered around the corner again, there were now two men where there’d once been three.

I blinked, fighting desperately to understand what I was seeing. Where the shortest man had been, there was now a large brown wolf—taller and thicker than any wolf I’d ever seen on TV or in the zoo. A low, deep growl rumbled from the creature, and I swore I could feel the ground shake with the power of it.

My heart raced, its hurried pace beating a frenzied song through my veins. My head rang with the tempo of it, and I was certain they’d be able to hear it from here.

This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be real.

Maybe I was dreaming, still passed out in the park, and this was my brain’s way of shaking me awake.

Sora told me what she’d seen, and I’d believed her, but it was different seeing this for myself.

It was undeniable.

We were less than twenty feet away from what could only be described as a werewolf.

Sora grabbed my hand, tight and steady, our fingers threaded and nails sinking half-moons into each other's flesh. I focused on the sharp pain, let it ground me as we stood there, both of us too frightened to move, or even breathe. We needed to get out of here, immediately, but I didn’t know how to leave without drawing attention to ourselves.

My vision blurred as the man and the wolf brawled, and I focused instead, on the third man watching them.

He was tall, had shoulder-length black hair that was a stark contrast against his pale skin. Now that I let my gaze linger on him, I almost couldn’t understand how I’d noticed the other two men at all. He was striking, his hands and arms tattooed in dark patterns that I couldn’t see well enough to decipher, but that seemed to almost glisten in the sunlight.

His expression was stoic, his jaw tight as he watched the two men from the sidelines.

Briefly, I wondered if they were fighting over him. Maybe some convoluted lovers’ quarrel, but it was only a passing thought. The other two didn’t seem to notice him at all.

And as mesmerizing as he was, I almost understood why—there was something almost ephemeral about him, like I had to actively direct my focus to see him, shaping him anew each time I glanced in his direction.

Still, he stood silently—watching, but not passive. The more I studied him, the sharp curve of his brow, the way his almost-black eyes locked onto the wolf, the more it felt like I was watching a hawk, waiting patiently for its next meal.

At one point, he got so close to their fight that I flinched, expecting him to be swept away in their battle, collateral damage. But the men didn’t even pause, just continued their gnawing and clawing, their fists and paws swiping at each other as if uninterrupted.

Could they not see him? Or did they just not care, too lost to their own rage?

The wolf kicked out, its paw striking into the third man’s chest.

I blinked again, convinced my eyes were deceiving me. Had his foot passed right through him? As if he was nothing more than air?

Deep growls echoed around us, the song of their battle punctuated with grunts and loud crashes. The ground beneath them was painted in blood, but I couldn’t tell which of them it belonged to.

A sudden bolt of certainty struck through my chest, settling low in my gut. The man—the one who’d turned into a wolf—he was dead. I felt his last breath as if it was my own, felt the cloying touch of death’s grip at the base of my throat.

I shook my head, watching the wolf now as he twisted and contorted with the vampire, the two of them locked in a strange, violent dance. The wolf was there, still very much breathing, still very much alive.

In fact, the wolf seemed to be faring the better of the two now.

It didn’t matter. Whatever truth my eyes saw, I couldn’t shake the feeling. The burning conviction I couldn’t explain that the wolf’s upper hand wouldn’t last.

He was alive, but he wouldn’t be at the end of this fight. I felt it in my bones, with the same certainty that I felt Sora’s hand clutched in mine.

The crow’s claws dug into my shoulder, snapping me out of my daze.

“We need to get out of here,” I mouthed to her. “Now.”

I shivered. Every hair on my body was standing on end, static.

Death.

Death was here.

And he was coming for the wolf.

I didn’t want to be here to see it, didn’t want to be proven right.

Most importantly, I didn’t want Sora anywhere near him.

My chest was tight, my vision dotting in the corners until it became nothing but smears of color and indecipherable dancing blurs.

Sora’s arms wrapped around my chest. She squeezed, though I hardly felt the pressure. I understood, in a vague sort of way, that she was trying to calm me down, to help me regulate my panic. But this was no typical panic attack.

My vision swam in and out of focus as my breathing grew shallow and rapid—and I watched as my intuition unfolded into reality.

We were too late.

The man covered in blood buried his hand inside of the wolf’s chest, bringing the creature closer, as if dragging him into a violent hug.

The muscles in his arm pulsed and flexed as he twisted and tugged.

With little ceremony or care, he dropped the wolf to the ground.

The wolf didn’t get up, didn’t lift his head, didn’t move.

The man dropped something red and vibrant and fleshy onto the wolf.

His heart.

As the first man took a few steps back from the wolf, the third man moved closer. He knelt next to him, studying him with a removed, clinical expression. His fingers sank into the wolf’s flank as it was made of butter.

Bile crept up my throat, hot and burning. There was something so familiar about the brutality of the gesture, but I couldn’t place it.

Suddenly, his eyes latched onto mine, holding my stare for a fraction of a second. I shook my head, as if to dispel him, then tugged Sora back with me.

We ran, as fast as we could, not even stopping to discuss where we were heading.

We didn’t slow down, didn’t speak, until we were back at Frank’s.

I leaned against the familiar gray wall of the diner, my head pressing into it as I fought to catch my breath.

Sora bent over and vomited.

I grabbed her hair, fighting back the urge to do the same.

“Holy shit.” She panted, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “That was fucking unbelievable.” She glanced up at me. “We should call somebody, shouldn’t we?”

“Who? And what do we even say? That we just saw a man kill a werewolf?” I shook my head, still not fully believing what we’d just seen myself. “The phones are down anyway, right?”

She stood up. Her face was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, her eyes sparkling and alive and so at odds with the deathly pallor of her skin. “The other one. Do you think—” A low, humorless chuckle ripped from her mouth as she leaned her head back against Frank’s door. “That couldn’t have been a vampire, right? I mean, that’s absolutely?—”

“And the third guy?” I pressed my thumb against my ring, twisting it, fighting to find a word to describe him—cataloging through every sci-fi and fantasy film I’d ever seen. “What was with him? The way the other two literally went through him—like he was just air?”

Sora’s brows furrowed.

“I mean, maybe he was a vampire too? Who knows what the hell kind of rules govern them, or?—”

“Mars,” she studied me, the adrenaline in her eyes fading into concern. “There were just two of them.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was no third guy.”