We’re let back out into the park. A strange amount of time has passed. It’s midnight, judging by the position of the moon. The park is empty and the city quiet. In the wake of the sudden deaths, the city had enacted a curfew. Everyone was to be inside at dusk.

  “So much for the law,” mutters Angelica. She shakes her head. “I can’t decide if I feel like it shouldn’t have taken this long, or if it should have taken longer.”

  “That’s the problem with journeying through realms,” says Wil. “It always leaves you out of sorts.” A pause, a flick of the ear. “What did the cranky bitch have to say?”

  I let the insult slide and tell him, “She says Satania is here waiting for us. We need to make our choice, and fast.”

  “I’ve already made my choice,” says Angelica. She steps close to me, a smile on her face. Pure contentment in her expression. “You’ve been my choice from the start, Grim. That’s not going to change now.”

  “Did she say where Satania was?” Wil asks.

  I shake my head.

  “She didn’t need to,” says Angelica. “I could feel her the moment that we stepped through the door. It’s not as overwhelming as before, when she Reaped all of those souls at once but… It’s strong, and it’s angry.”

  “Where is she?” I press.

  “She’s at my apartment,” says Angelica. “She’s waiting for us there.” And then her face goes bright as she asks, “Does anyone know what time it is?”

  “Park clock says 3:33,” Wil answers, ear flicking toward the large cement structure at the center of the path.

  Angelica lets out a laugh. “That makes so much sense. It was always supposed to go this way, wasn’t it?”

  I tilt my head, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “When someone dies, it’s because Destiny chose that path, right? And then you’re given the signs to make it happen,” says Angelica.

  I nod, just once.

  Angelica continues, “So it’s the same now, right? This is why I didn’t die that day. All of the signs we’ve been seeing, all three of us. They were talking about tonight.”

  Wil nods his little kitty head in agreement. “She’s right. Everything’s been building toward this moment. I just… Don’t know how it ends. My omens—they usually speak about death. But I don’t see a dead woman walking when I look at you.”

  I take a step back, putting space between us. I try to look Angelica over with the critical gaze of a Reaper, trying to take in the way that her color shines oh-so-brightly. Nothing looks different from before. She is no less jewel toned. She is no less present.

  With a shake of my head, I admit, “I don’t know what’s going to happen, either. I don’t like that.”

  “But we do know what’s going to happen,” Angelica counters, quite firmly. “We know that we’re going to find a way to transform me into a Reaper, and then it won’t matter that I’m human. When we get there, all we need to do is convince Satania to give us a chance to do that.”

  Grim and I trade looks. I say gruffly, “That’s going to be easier said than done.”

  “It doesn’t need to be easy.” Angelica waves her hands. “It just needs to be done.”

  She’s right about that, so we start our way back to the apartment building. I keep my eyes open for something that could be helpful to us, for a sign or an omen that might guide us in the right direction… But I don’t see any.

  I think that Destiny has given us as much help as she’s willing to. It’s up to us, now, to figure out the rest. Hopefully… We’ll be able to do that without Satania causing too much of a mess.

  Chapter Eleven

  Angelica

  The apartment building rises into view like a monolith. I’ve never been afraid of my own home before, but I find myself more than just a little leery of it with each step closer. I know I put on a big show at the park. And I meant it, right?

  My choice is made. It’s been made for a long time. Grim is the only thing that matters. But… That doesn’t mean I’m not scared.

  We come to a stop outside. The energy Satania gives off is overwhelming. It feels like there are icy fingers wrapped around my throat, not squeezing, just resting there. A threat that she could Collect me at any minute.

  A thought strikes me. “Does she even need to do this?”

  “Do what?” Grim questions.

  I gesture toward the apartment building. “Come here, waiting for me. She Collected those other souls from the sky like it was nothing. You said a few of them weren’t even ready to go yet.”

  Grim shakes his head. “The thing you need to know about Satania is that she’s… she’s like a child. She’s done this job for too long, and now she’s bored. So this, it’s more fun for her than just trying to Collect you from somewhere else.”

  “It’s personal at this point too,” offers Wil from the top step. “Grim hasn’t been listening to her, and Satania hates when people aren’t paying her attention.”

  “Like a child,” repeats Grim.

  I can’t help but wonder, “Do you think she was, when she was Collected?”

  Grim hesitates, but Wil shakes his head. “She wasn’t. She was a queen, cut down too early. I’ve spoken with her Omen before. Satania is just… She’s always been difficult, but even more so in the last two-hundred years.”

  “What are the chances that she’s just going to listen to us?” I question, tilting my head up. It takes a moment, but I spot my balcony. No one’s up there, and it’s too dark for me to see the strange black rose bush that’s grown there.

  I still haven’t figured out what it is, but this is absolutely not the right time to ask after it.

  “Slim,” says Wil.

  Grim counters, “We’re just going to have to convince her to listen.”

  I try to lighten the mood by saying, “It’s going to end in my death either way, right? I think… This is going to make her happy! Right?”

  “Nothing makes her happy,” says Wil dryly.

  Grim nods his agreement. “Unfortunately, that’s true. I’ve never seen her so much as crack a smile.”

  “We’re just going to have to change that,” I insist. “We’ve come too far to let this stop us. We have to—we have to figure out how to make her listen.”

  Wil says, “The only way we’re going to be able to do that is by going up and seeing her.” He doesn’t sound the least bit happy about that. “We’re doing this now, right?”

  “No sense putting it off,” says Grim. “It’s not as if she’ll leave.”

  I push open the door that lets me into the apartment lobby. “I’m not going to let her—I’m not going to let her chase me off. Shit, that is a lot.”

  I close my eyes, hard.

  Grim settles a hand on my left shoulder. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine.” I force myself to exhale, and then take a moment to find my center. “She just… She has a lot of energy coming off of her. It made me dizzy for a second.”

  “You shouldn’t come up there.” Grim stops and looks me over. “Wil can stay down here with you. I’ll speak to her.”

  He turns to walk away, but I lurch forward and grab onto the back of his robes with both of my hands. “There’s no way that’s happening. We’re doing this together, you hear me?”

  For a moment, it looks like Grim is going to try and argue. Well, I don’t need him to try and save me. We’re here to do this for us. Both of us. And just because the power makes me a little nauseous, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t go up there and be with him, every step of the way.

  I move around him and head for the stairs.

  Wil says, “You didn’t really think that would work, did you?”

  “I—” Grim starts.

  Wil lets out a mrow of laughter. “Get your head out of your memories, Grim. This is the present, and I don’t think anything’s going to stop Angelica from doing what she wants.” He sounds amused. “Even death hasn’t.”

  “He’s right,” I say, from the entrance to the stairwell. “I’m going. We’re doing this together. Now get that bony rump of yours over here, and let’s go convince her that I can die in a helpful way.”

  I make myself sound as confident as I possibly can, and then spin about and start up the stairs. There’s a flurry of steps before Grim and Wil join me. We don’t run, but we don’t take our time either. Have the stairs always had this many levels to them?

  Yes, they have. I need to get a handle on my nerves. It’s making my mind play tricks on me. The closer to my floor we get, though, the stronger Satania’s energy becomes. It’s hard to compare it to anything else; static energy and drowning all at once, but neither of them hurt. Every hair on my body is standing on end, goose pimples on my arms, but there’s also this weight on my shoulders.

  It’s almost enough to make my muscles ache, like something is trying to push me backward, away from the floor. It’s not a sign or an omen. It’s just the sheer force of irritation that Satania is exuding.

  We stop outside of the door to my level, but only so I can catch my breath. My eyes close for a moment.

  Once again, Grim tries to tell me, “Wait here. I’ll convince her.”

  “I’m not letting you go in there alone,” I argue hotly.

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll bring Wil with me.” He shifts in his robe.

  Wil mutters, “Great, you’ll leave the mortal here, but I’ll just get tossed under the bus.”

  We both ignore the Omen for the moment.

  I’d like to say that I consider his option; that I think about how bad I feel, and how dangerous this is. That even an ounce of self-preservation rears its head. But the truth is, I don’t.

  “We’re doing this together,” I insist. “I made my choice already, Grim. Haven’t you made yours?”

  The question seems to startle him. His eye lights go wide. He catches my face between his palms and he swears, “I’m only here now because you’re my choice.”

  “Then we do this together,” I reiterate. “And that’s the end of it.”

  There’s no room for arguing after that. Grim opens the door to my floor, and we step out onto the hallway. It stretches out like a rubber band, the walls seeming to bend beneath the force of the energy nearby. It’s like we’re walking through a fish-eye mirror, or a room at the local fun house.

  The nausea gets worse. My mouth is watering. I have to swallow hard to keep it at bay. The hallway dips and sways beneath us, the Reapers energy so strong that it’s causing a physical effect on the world around us… At least, it is for me.

  Most people won't notice anything more than a strange sense of unease. But as a medium, the energy is tangible—it affects everything in the area.

  My apartment door is standing open.

  I know for a fact it was closed when I left. She’s inviting us inside.

  I reach out, grabbing hold of Grim. He turns to ask me something, probably if everything’s okay, but I cut him off with a kiss.

  “Just for good luck,” I murmur when we part.

  What I’m really thinking is just in case. I can tell that Grim understands what I truly meant, the expression he’s wearing turns solemn and heavy. He leans in and presses his teeth to the curve of my forehead in a kiss.

  “For luck,” he agrees, and then he turns and he steps, first, into the apartment. Wil follows him, unhesitatingly, even though there’s danger waiting for him.

  And I bring up the rear, knowing that one way or another, today will be my last day as a mortal woman.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grim

  Satania is stretched out on the couch when we step into the room, her headpiece forgone and sitting on the table. She doesn’t even glance in our direction when she says, “I was starting to think you would keep me waiting all night.”

  The apartment door snaps shut behind us with a slam. My bones are so tightly wound, I don’t even jump at the sound. Wil does, though he tries to cover his fear by leaping up onto the kitchen counter that divides the two rooms.

  He sits down, tucking his tail over his front paws. Wil is trying to look prim as a prince, but the fur along his spine is on end. We all know that what’s about to happen, it’s not going to be fun or easy.

  “Why are you here?” I ask.

  Slowly, Satania sits up then gets fully to her feet. Her robes flutter about her skeletal form, the bottom hem constantly flowing in a wind that doesn’t actually exist. She turns to look at us, her eye lights bright and sharp.

  “I don’t answer stupid questions,” she chides.

  Angelica wavers, physically. She reaches out, bracing one hand on the wall. “Madame Satania—”

  “Do you think I want to hear from you, mortal?” she interrupts, disdain in her voice. “The only reason I’m even letting you see me is to make a point. This Reaper has done nothing but break the rules since he met you.”

  “He hasn’t broken any rules.” Wil jumps from the counter and onto the floor between us. He’s small, but he stands there like a wall; the one thing that might be able to convince Satania not to strike.

  Satania asks, “Oh, is that so?”

  She sounds doubtful.

  Wil’s ear flicks. “The false report was my fault.” The admission of guilt is stunning, it shows just how much Wil truly does care about me, that he’s willing to own up to such a mistake. “But her missed death isn’t a breach of the rules. Destiny changed.”

  “Destiny does not change.” Satania scowls.

  “It does,” Wil corrects nonchalantly. “It changes constantly. Fate and Destiny are always bickering. Sometimes, one wins where the other had been pulling the strings. She was supposed to die there, but then Destiny changed her mind. I saw it, in the omens.”

  Satania stares at him, silently glowering. The tension in the air is so thick I can feel it pressing into me. And then…she laughs.

  Laughs!

  The sound is shrill and disconcerting. Satania shakes her head, and when she’s finally gotten her breath back after her outburst of laughter, she says, “Omen, you misunderstand. I don’t care what you think was meant to happen.”

  Wil pulls his head back, startled.

  Satania continues, “You see, it doesn’t matter about the change. The paperwork has been filed. That means, she should not be alive. And If she shouldn’t be alive, then I’m more than capable of Collecting her.”

  “Satania,” starts Wil, but his words are cut off by a high-pitched yelp as he’s snatched up by the scruff and tossed across the room.

  “Wil!” Angelica shouts, pulling away from the wall and rushing toward the Omen. The cat didn’t land on his feet, but he doesn’t seem hurt, just stunned.

  “What is wrong with you?” I demand, stepping between Satania and where Angelica has crouched down to check on Wil.

  Satania looks me over and then says, “I’ll give your antics this much, Grim. At least they’ve managed to alleviate my boredom. Unfortunately for you, even this game has started to drag out for too long.”

  “It’s not a game,” I insist.

  “I’m going to correct your mistake,” says Satania. “And Collect the soul that was meant to be Reaped months ago.”

  She spins around, throwing her hand out toward Angelica. A burst of light shoots from her bony palm, straight toward Angelica. It cuts through the air, and I know it’s going to be a killing blow but—there’s a flash of light, and Wil’s energy surges up around them.

  The energies slam into each other with a clap of sound like thunder. It breaks off, a flash that is so bright it’s literally blinding. I throw an arm up above my face to shield my eye lights. When it clears, Wil is crushed up against Angelica, his sides heaving with the force of his panting, hair fluffed up until he looks twice his size.

  He’s trembling too, the exhaustion from pushing out that much energy having left him weak. Angelica is pale, her eyes wide with fright. She scoops Wil up and holds him against her chest, and the Omen curls against her, tucking his head against her breasts.

  Lucky cat.

  Satania screeches, “What are you doing?”

  “You can’t have her!” This act of kindness from Wil—it’s one of those memories I will never forget. I reach out, grabbing hold of Satania’s wrist as tight as I can. I jerk it toward me, knowing that Wil won’t be able to shield Angelica from another energy blast.

  “Get off of me,” Satania shouts as she tries to pull away.

  I don’t let go. “Satania, enough! You know that this isn’t the order of Destiny! This isn’t how it works!”

  “Don’t preach to me about Destiny,” snarls Satania. She rips her hand away from me, and takes a step backward—but I match her, stepping forward for each motion of retreat that she makes. “Destiny means she dies and you do your job!”

  “Destiny means that she lives,” I snarl, catching hold of the front of her robes. My phalanges twist in the front of her robes, gripping as tightly as I can. “It means that the car doesn’t hit her, it means that her neck doesn’t snap. It means that she lives!”

  “Unhand me,” shrieks Satania, jerking backward. There’s a pulse of magic from the rings on her phalanges, and the static electricity bursts from it. My bones jump and jerk, and I yelp as I let go of her robes.

  The static laces through my joints, turning them stiff.

  There’s a ripple after that, a surge of the shadows on the far side of the room. From them comes a dark shape, hazy at the edges first, but it quickly takes on the form of a sleek black panther. Angelica’s presence gives her emerald eyes, and there’s a small notch in her left ear.

  Just the sight of her is enough to cause everyone in the room to still. The Omen exudes a sense of power and importance that most of her kind don’t; but then, she is far older than most of her kind.