"What if this tragedy starts them back up again? I can get you an appointment with Dr. Niles next week."

"Bye, Mom," I said, dismissing her. I hated when she brought up the shrink shey and my dad had sent me to for three months. Al that guy did was tel me a bunch of crap I already knew and give me drugs that didn't work. Of course, they al thought I'd been fixed. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

"I didn't mean to make you angry, El ie Bean."

I exhaled, letting the tension wash from my face, and I looked back up at her. "I know. You just have to trust me when I say I'm going to be fine."

She paused a moment before she said anything. "I'l tel your father to say good-bye to you before he leaves." Mom disappeared from the kitchen.

I picked my cel phone up and texted Kate, asking where she was. A few moments later, I received a reply: "B therr so5on! mayb." I immediately regretted texting Kate while she was driving--for obvious reasons.

I poked at my breakfast a few more times. My dad walked into the kitchen, adjusting the front of his suit jacket. I looked up at him briefly and gave a smal smile. He patted the top of my head awkwardly as he passed by.

"Sorry about your teacher," he said. The lines in his face told me that he was sad, but his eyes didn't match. They were calm and unaffected, his mind elsewhere.

I was sure he meant what he said, but he never real y knew how to show it. I assumed he had learned how to comfort others by imitating someone else--like he saw it on TV somewhere. It never felt natural, never felt as if he real y cared.

"Thanks, Dad," I said sincerely. "Kate's on her way over."

"Oh," he said.

"I don't think we'l do much," I said.

"Okay, then. Good-bye."

"Later." He probably should have said something like how he hoped I'd be al right and that he loved me, but it would shock me to death if I heard those words come out of him these days. I watched my dad head to the garage and listened to him drive away.

When Kate arrived, she let herself in the front door. She sat down quietly on a stool next to me, picked up my fork, and took a bite of my pancakes.

"I can't believe Mr. Meyer's dead," Kate said through a mouthful.

Thinking about never seeing his kind, smiling face in class again made me real y sad. "I can't believe he's dead either. Did the news say anything else about it?"

"They just said he was 'severely mutilated.' I have no idea what they mean by that, though. Could be anything. It was probably some psychopath. Detroit is like five minutes away."

I took a bite of my breakfast. Immediately, I felt il . "I think I might sleep a little more. Come with?"

"Best idea I've heard since Landon and Chris decided they'd steal a zebra from the zoo and turn it loose during commencement for our senior prank," she said. "Do you think they're real y going to do it?"

"Doubt it."

2

I WAS SMOOTHING MY HAND OVER THE WIDE CLAW marks that ran down the length of the metal door when I heard the roars from somewhere deep within the cavernous textile plant. The angry wails shook the dusty floor beneath my shoes in desolate echoes, announcing the reaper's presence below. I conjured both my swords out of thin air and stepped silently through the door and into the darkened hall. The air smelled like smoke and brimstone, the unmistakable stench left behind by the demonic and the only thing that linked the mortal world to the Grim. The floor was littered with yellowing paper, and nothing remained of the small industrial windows dotting the walls but jagged broken glass. Sickly pale light from the streetlamps lining the darkened streets outside streaked in through the shattered windows. Trash was piled up against the walls, which were covered with strips of peeling, decomposing paint. I stepped around everything, making no noise, but I knew the reaper could feel me. My silence could not mask the energy rolling from me. Nothing could, and the reaper was hungry for me. I stepped into the Grim, passing through the smoky veil and into the world that most humans could not see. Here the reapers dwelled. The remnants of the mortal plane tugged at my arms and clothes like viscous tendrils. A passing police cruiser lit up the ground floor of the factory like blood-red fireworks, the wail of its siren deafening me for a moment. I took a deep breath to regain my composure and stalked toward the closest emergency stairwell. I kicked the door open, and the heavy clunk of steel gave my position away. I held the helves of both my silver sickle- shaped Khopesh swords tightly as I peered over the edge of the metal railing down the shaft to the basement level. A dark, massive shape flashed across the floor below. The reaper roared again, making the stairwell shudder. I descended quickly, whipping my body around the steel spiral staircase at every turn, determined not to let him escape. My footsteps were light, barely brushing the floor beneath me. With one story to go, I jumped over the railing and landed safely with nothing more than a bend of my knees and a thud of my shoes. I kicked open the stairwell door and froze to peer carefully into the darkness. Unseen claws raked the concrete. He wanted me to know he was there.

Behind me came a low, throaty rumble. I spun around and caught a glimpse of the reaper, but he vanished deeper into the blackness. I clenched my teeth bitterly, and angelfire erupted from my swords, readying for battle. The flames were the only thing that could truly kill a reaper, and I was the only one that could wield them. They lit up the cavernous basement in white light, but the reaper evaded the glow and stuck to the shadows.