Dearly Departed

Afterworld Academy Book 1

Katie May

Loxley Savage

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Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright @ 2019 Loxley Savage & Katie May

Cover Design by Melody Simmons

Editing by Elemental Editing and Proofreading

Proofreading by Meghan Leigh Daigle with Bookish Dreams Editing

This is a Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance and is not suited for those under the age of 18.

Created with Vellum Created with Vellum

Contents

Foreword

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

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Acknowledgments

About the Author

About the Author

Also by Loxley Savage

Also by Katie May

Foreword

This is a fantasy, academy, reverse harem romance and is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. There are references to cancer throughout the book as well as explicit scenes. If such material triggers or offends you, please do not buy or read this book.

To our amazing readers. Thank you for making our dreams come true.

Chapter 1

Hadley

If you were to ask me how I died, I would lie and say I was murdered.

It just sounds...cooler.

Not that I’m romanticizing murder or anything, but strangulation sounds better than cancer. Maybe I’m a kinky masochist. Maybe death made me a psycho.

Who knows?

All I know for certain is that death was a relief. Does wanting to leave my life behind make me a horrible person? To be free of the pains that had once dominated every aspect of my life? I don’t like to believe I’m selfish or anything, but death?

Yeah, I can get behind that.

At least I can say it came quickly, like a teenage boy jacking off for the first time. It wasn’t painful or anything like that. It just...was.

Falling asleep would be the best description, but even that fails to encapsulate my final moments. One second, my eyes were fluttering shut, and I could’ve sworn I felt a hand grip my own, and the next I was...here, wearing my favorite white tank top and shorts.

Wherever here was.

Heaven? Hell?

Honestly, I didn’t know where I would end up.

Father forgive me for I have sinned and all that crap. Pre-marital sex? Check. Drugs? Check. Alcohol? Check. Lying? Check. Stealing? Check.

Well...you get the idea. Heaven won’t be throwing out a welcome mat for me.

So, yeah. Back to death.

It is...cozy. No pearly white gates for me. No golden pinnacles brushing the wispy white clouds. Instead, I find myself in a diminutive office with two leather chairs in front of a mahogany desk.

Totally not what I had imagined.

The man sitting there is older and handsome in an unconventional sort of way. His peppered hair is receding—shorter on the sides but longer on the top—and he is immaculately dressed in a black suit and red tie, his body surprisingly muscular despite his age. Big, Roman nose. Teal-colored eyes. Full, plush lips.

Not that I want to bang him, dear God. The man is old enough to be my father. Despite that, I’m able to appreciate his good looks.

His...wait for it...otherworldly good looks. Yes, that’s a death joke. I have a whole bunch in my arsenal.

You would think I would be sad about being dead, but I’m not. It’s actually sort of comforting in a demented way. One word reverberates in my head.

Freedom.

What I do feel, however, as I survey the lightly furnished room, is a sense of anxiousness. My stomach is a tumultuous mixture of dread and elation. Somehow, someway, I know my life is going to be forever altered. Don’t ask me how I know. It’s sort of like a spider bite on your arm that doesn’t hurt or itch. It just sits there, mildly uncomfortable but not unbearable.

The man folds his hands on top of the desk, fixing me with a penetrating stare. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. A fuck up? A dying girl that lived the best life she could? Well, not dying. Not anymore.

A dead girl.

I tentatively fiddle with a piece of my dark blonde hair, unnerved by the attention he is giving me. Instead of meeting his piercing teal gaze, I scrutinize the rest of the office.

It is devoid of any decorations or memorabilia. No picture frames on the desk. No paintings on the walls. No bobble heads or dildos or coffee cups. Not that I expect a dildo to be lying in plain sight, mind you, but this man looks as if he has a stick up his ass.

Or, if you want to be technical, a dildo up his rectum.

“So...I’m dead,” I muse softly, finally turning back to boss man. He is still watching me with slitted, almost curious eyes, but he gives a decisive head bob at my statement. “Why aren’t I more...you know...freaked out?”

I would’ve imagined I’d be screaming my head off. Maybe praying. Or maybe rocking back and forth in a fetal position as the devil masturbated in my tears.

Vivid imagination, my friends.

“It’s a part of death,” he answers vaguely. To further emphasize the whole “vagueness” theme, he waves his hand in the air. Resisting the urge to punch him, I lean forward in my seat.

“So it’s normal not to be freaking out?” Once more, he answers my question with a simple head nod. Asshole. “What’s your name, anyway?”

I figure it would be impolite to call him Asshole for the rest of this session.

“You can call me Administer,” he states stoutly. Haughtily. I think I would’ve preferred Asshole. What kind of name is Administer?

“Isn’t that a verb?” I ask, reclining further in my seat. “Shouldn’t you be Administrator?”

He ignores me, glancing towards a file he had grabbed from the vault when I’d entered the room.

“Cancer,” he murmurs, and my body immediately stiffens. I may be fine with dying and all that, but talking about my life? The pain I had suffered? That is a hard no for me. Fortunately, he moves on with a sympathetic shake of his head. “One thing you have to understand about the Afterlife, Hadley, is that a few people don’t cross over.”

Well...that doesn’t sound ominous at all.

When I remain silent, willing him to continue with an eloquent raise of my brow, he leans back in his chair.

“Some people are chosen for something else, something greater.” At that, his lips twitch as if he’s fighting a smile. His hands remain steepled together, moving to rest on his chest. “The Afterlife needs workers.”

“Workers?” I parrot dumbly.

Can’t a girl die without all this shit? Where is my peaceful sleep and ninety-nine virgins?

I mirror his position in the chair opposite the desk—legs extended languidly, hands clasped together, and head lolling to the side.

Ignoring my outburst, Administer—snort—continues, “Afterworld Academy trains a select few for jobs designed to make the Afterlife run smoothly.”

“Afterworld Academy.” This time, I can’t hold in my snort of amusement. “How original.”

“Your soul has been selected,” he declares with an imperious set to his chin. He looks down at me, almost as if he’s afraid I’m going to run away. As if there’s anywhere to run. Knowing my luck, I’ll fall through a cloud and die a second time...if souls can even die.

“To go to this Academy?” I clarify. Fucking hell. That sounds like torture. I have never been the most studious of people. Even before I got sick, I much preferred hanging out with my friends over studying. Maybe I’m actually in hell and this is my eternal punishment: school.

“The first year, you will train in each of the four divisions before Fate determines where you will be placed.” At this, something flashes in his eyes, there and gone too quickly for me to determine what it was. “Angels, Demons, Ghosts, and Reapers.”

“Angels are real?” I blurt. It sounds like something out of a storybook. And Ghosts? I want to shake my head vehemently to protest what he just said. My best friend, Ocean, had been a firm believer in all things paranormal. Ghosts, for one, and Demons. She had dragged me along more often than not on her little adventures to prove the paranormal existed. Me? I thought it was a bunch of bullshit.

Huh. Now I owe Ocean an apology.

Wait. I can’t. I’m dead.

Duh.

Administer stares at me intently, his pinprick teal eyes somehow seeing more than what is visible. Maybe it’s because my body, my actual body, is buried ten feet below the ground. Maybe it’s because he’s quite literally seeing into my soul. Either way, I have the distinct feeling I’ve just been seen more clearly than I’ve ever been in my life.

“Your Reaper will come collect your soul,” he says dismissively.

“Collect my soul?” I screech, jumping to my feet. I place my hand on my chest as if that would somehow keep my damn soul right where it is.

“To bring it to the Academy.” Administer Asshole pierces me with another long look. “Hadley, you’re dead. Only your soul exists as of now.”

If that isn’t a kick to the proverbial nuts.

Feeling effectively chastised, I storm out of his office. Yup. Because apparently the Afterlife has offices.

The hallway I find myself in is painted white—a slap you in the face sort of white.

It’s everywhere. On the walls, ceiling, and floors. On each door. On the single decorative table in the center of the hall—so impractical and a total tripping hazard. The whole scene feels like I was shot onto a white, solid cloud. That would be a mindfuck...the clouds hold the secrets to the Afterlife.

Moving briskly, unnerved by the abundance of white screaming in my face, I make my way to the—you guessed it—white lobby. Every white seat is noticeably empty, and I can’t decide if I’m relieved or anxious. Probably both, if the shit that wants to make an appearance in my pants is any indication.

Before I can sit, I hear movement from one of the doors. I freeze, muscles tensing, just as it’s blown off its hinges and a man topples to the ground.

“Shit! That was not the grand appearance I wanted to make,” he complains, his voice muffled by the floor. He staggers to his feet drunkenly, accidentally kicking over one of the many white chairs in the process. “Motherfucker.” He glares at the chair as if it had somehow personally offended him.

I feel that. I do.

Finally, the man makes his way over to me, and my breath freezes in my lungs.

He’s gorgeous. Beautiful, even. Dark brown hair grazes his emerald eyes, longer on top but shaved shorter on the sides, highlighting his lightly tanned skin. A tight-fitting black shirt and black pants accentuates his lithe frame and swimmer’s body. A black tie dangles to his waistband like he attempted to dress up...before promptly giving up. It’s his smile, though, that gives me pause. Conspiratorial, almost, as if we are both privy to a secret the rest of the world doesn’t know.

“You must be Hadley,” Tall, Dark, and Sexy says, making his way over to me. Of course, he trips over the same chair he dropped and face-plants on the ground. Again.

He ambles to his feet, muttering curses beneath his breath, and flashes me a wide smile.

“I’m Preston. Your personal Reaper.”

Chapter 2

Preston

If I thought she was beautiful in death, she’s even more gorgeous in the Afterlife. Long, dark blonde hair cascades down her back in soft waves. She has the kind of hair you want to run your fingers through, bringing the silken threads to your nose so you can inhale her sweet scent. The accelerated healing in the Afterlife has taken her cancer ridden body and began restoring her health.

This past week I’ve been sitting with her, watching her body deteriorate alongside her friends and family. I held her hand while those closest to her said their goodbyes, tears streaming down their faces. When her ferocity had dimmed, but she still managed a tired smile for the sake of others, I knew I was a goner

In the height of her agony, I wiped the sweat from her brow and whispered encouraging words into her ears, letting her know she wasn’t alone. That I was there with her, though I hadn’t expected to be the one to collect her soul. I had assumed that the job would go to a high-level Reaper, someone who had graduated from the Academy.

During her final moments, when her soul was separating itself from her physical body, it was me who was there to guide her.

Me.

Never did I think in a million fucking years I’d be assigned to her now. Hadley’s Reaper guide. When Administer gave me this assignment, I almost fell off the chair in his office.

Actually...

I did fall off the chair. I’m lucky I’m already dead with how fucking clumsy I am. But in life or death, pain feels the same. It just can’t kill me again. Well…

It can, technically, but I’ve been working on my positive thinking.

“My Reaper?” she questions, cocking her head to the side, her little button nose scrunched up in confusion.

“Yep.” I gesture around the room. “Welcome to Afterworld Academy, Hadley. Where the dead never die.”

Sort of.

“Sounds riveting,” she jests, folding her arms under her chest. The low cut, white tank top does nothing to hide her cleavage.

Don’t look at her chest. Don’t look at her chest.

I bite my lip and focus on her eyes.

“Are you okay, Preston? Your face has gone beet red.”

Fuck.

I let out a long breath. I have a bad habit of holding my breath when I get nervous. And Hadley? She makes me nervous like a boy who’s just touched his first boob. It’s exciting, but I don’t want to fuck it up.

“Yep. I’m good. I uhh… I’m here to take you on a tour of the grounds before the initiation ceremony.”

God, I sound like a blubbering idiot. You’d never know I was in my third year at the Academy. In fact, Hadley is my first real case. Well, my first case without someone looking over my shoulder and calling me a “clumsy fucking cow anus on steroids” who’s “high on weed.” Yeah. My mentor wasn’t very nice.

“Initiation? If you’re looking for a sacrificial virgin, you’d better look somewhere else.” I feel my face heat, my jaw dropping open. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to decide what to say to soothe her fears when a smirk pulls at her lips.

“I’m just playing with you, Preston!” She punches me in the shoulder, and I stumble back, almost tripping over my own two feet. “Can’t you take a joke?”

“Yes, I can take a joke, thank you very much. Now, if you will please follow me, we can get this tour started.”

“Oh, goodie,” she replies sarcastically, dropping her arms and following me to the door. “Please tell me there are complimentary drinks and snacks, ‘cause I’m fucking staaaaaarving. Who knew dying would take so much energy?” she quips, and I have to stifle a laugh. Even before she died, Hadley was dramatic. As a soul, she will no longer experience trivial things like hunger pains and that burning sensation you get when you need to piss. It’s kind of like phantom limb syndrome—it’s hard to believe you no longer feel it, so your brain conjures up what it once felt like. Come to think of it, sleep is the only thing souls still do...well, except Ghosts. They’re too busy being broody and dead and all. And souls can get horny. Rock the bed and all that. Rock the boat? How does that metaphor work?

My cheeks burn, and I chance a glance at Hadley. Thank fuck she is distracted by a white arrangement of roses on one of the many white tables.

We head down the white hallway to the glass double door at the end. I push in the metal bar and hold it open for her, guiding Hadley outside with my hand splayed on her lower back. She stiffens when I touch her, and I quickly pull my arm back.

Fuck. How could I be so stupid? She has no idea who I am, even though I’ve been with her for the past week.

“Whoa,” she gasps, her voice filled with awe. “I didn’t think the Afterlife would be so…”

“Beautiful?” I interject.

“Yeah. Beautiful works.”

I’ve never been an outdoors type of guy like my brothers were, but even I have to admit there is something to be said for the lush, rolling green hills and large oak trees that make up the grounds.

It’s midday, and the sun is high in the sky, peeking out from behind sparse, puffy white clouds. We mosey down a stone walkway that leads to the forest. Once inside the colorful canopy of trees, the stone gives way, leaving a worn path in its wake.

We follow along in silence. She keeps looking around like a kid at Christmas with a big smile on her face, as if she’s never seen a tree in her life. She’s so stinking adorable, and I kind of want to wrap her up in paper and gift her to myself on Christmas. But I have to force myself to remember that not only are these her first few moments in the Afterlife, but also the first time she’s lived without pain in God knows how long.

My heart breaks for her a little. I saw a small glimpse of what she went through in the final days of her life, and if the months before that were even slightly similar, then I can only imagine how relieved she is in her death.

Hadley skips along on the path and stoops to pick up a daisy growing from a small patch. Plucking the stem from the soil, she twirls the flower between her thumb and pointer finger before bringing the petals to her nose. A ray of sunlight filters in through the swaying leaves and settles on Hadley. Her golden hair shines brighter than the sun itself, highlighting the freckles sprinkled across her nose as she closes her eyes and sniffs the flower.

Such an innocent thing, picking a wildflower. Yet, to this girl, it is a monumental feat.

“How does it smell?” I inquire. So fucking awkward. I never could talk to a girl without sounding like an idiot.

One blue iris peeks out at me from between her black lashes, a smirk growing on her face, revealing a perfect set of white teeth.

Clearly this girl had braces. I bet she looked so adorable with them. I wonder if she wore her retainers? Nah. No one actually wears their retainers.

“Take a whiff yourself.” She holds the flower out to me, and I inhale the floral scent. “Sometimes in life, you need to enjoy the small things because you never know when it can all be taken away.” She tucks the flower behind her ear and links her arm with mine. “Come on. Isn’t there a tour you’re supposed to be taking me on?”

“Yes, princess,” I mutter under my breath, referring to the nickname I had coined for her when I was an invisible boy with stalker-like tendencies. She freezes, her head tilting to the side. Fortunately, she doesn’t look aghast, only mildly curious. But still, shit. I don’t want to look even more like a creeper than I already do. Having cute nicknames for a girl who doesn’t know me? That’s a standing over your bed and eating cereal level of creepy.

“What did you say?”

I gulp. “I- Umm… I said yes, freshness.” Fuck, I hope she buys it.

Because yes, freshness is ten times more appropriate than princess. It’s all about context, my friend. And flowers can be fucking fresh.

She gives me the side-eye. “That’s not what I heard.”

“Perhaps you should clean your ears then,” I suggest with a shrug of my shoulder.

She tries to keep a stern face, but ends up laughing. The sound is prettier than the birds that sang outside my bedroom window as a kid, the ones that showed up after the winter snows melted. She has one of those contagious laughs, the kind you can’t help laughing along with even if you didn’t get the joke.

Fuck, she’s perfect.

She tugs her lower lip between her teeth and chews on the plump flesh. I watch in awe, fantasizing about what her lips would feel like moving against mine. What flavor her chapstick might be.

Cherry?

Strawberry?

No. I bet she’s more of a bubblegum kinda girl.

My mouth waters, and I wipe away escaped drool by feigning a cough.

She smiles wider, letting that lip slide out from between her pearly whites. She shoots me a wink and heads off down the path, leaving me standing there with my jaw hanging open.

I need to watch out for this girl.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Hadley, wait!” I shout, jogging after her, but not too fast. From behind her, I don’t have to school my face while checking out her gorgeous ass, which fills out those white shorts perfectly. She’s gonna look fucking killer in the Afterworld Academy uniform. Short, pleated skirt. Knee-high socks. Tight, white button up shirt...

I wonder what type of panties she wears… Boyshorts? No… She’s too flirtatious. Thong? Eh, no. Who wants that shit up their ass crack anyway. Ohh! Maybe she’s a commando girl? I beg whatever God that might be listening to make that true. Because nothing would be hotter than—

“Preston! What the fuck are you doing back there?” I feel my face flush.

Fuck. I’ve been caught.

She spins around and places her hands on her hips. “Were… were you just checking out my ass?”

I can’t lie to her. “Maybe.”

She saunters over to me and tugs on my tie. I feel all the blood rush to my cock, and I pray it’s not noticeable.

“I’m not dead for even an hour, and already I’ve got a guy undressing me with his eyes.” My throat works as she leans into my neck, her hot breath fanning my ear, and her tits rest on my arm. “Maybe this Academy won’t be so bad after all,” she whispers. “I could use three more guys just like you.”

If she only knew.

She takes a step away, letting my tie fall through her fingers before heading back down the path.

I’d say that this girl is going to be the death of me, but I’m already dead.

Taking a deep breath, I try to compose myself before trailing off after her. I fall in line with her, and she glances up at me and smiles. The trickle from a small brook reaches our ears, and a pair of squirrels chase each other in the branches above our heads as we walk.

“So. How long have you been here?” she inquires, breaking the silence.

“I’m a third year, so, three years.”

“Fuck. How many grades or whatever does this Academy have?”

I chuckle. “Four, but only the first three years are present at the Academy.”

She chews on that lip again, and I pull my eyes away. “The Administer person thingy, who is an asshole by the way, said that there are other types of dead. I know you’re a Reaper, but where are the Angels, Ghosts, and Demons he mentioned?”

I take a breath to reply when the trees open up and the huge, wooden bridge that connects the forest to the dorms comes into view.

“Whoa,” she says, quickening her pace. “What is that?”

“That is the bridge to the Afterworld Academy, Hadley. Welcome home.”

She grins at me from over her shoulder and heads to the bridge. Her dainty fingers grip the railing as she takes her first tentative step over the rushing waters below. I know how she’s feeling. I was a bit shocked at the enormity of the bridge the first time I saw it too.

Half the size of a football field, the bridge known as Pontem Veritatis—Latin for Bridge of Truth—stretches across a rushing river. It’s the only way to enter or leave the Academy by foot. After a few feet, she finds her confidence and walks to the middle of the bridge.

Resting her elbows on the railing, she cradles her head in her hands and watches the waters flowing beneath us. A cool breeze flits her hair above her head, making her look angelic.

No.

Reaper-gelic.

Yeah.

I’ve never been good with words, stumbling over pronunciation as much as I do my two left feet. But I will the right words to come to me just this once.

“Are you okay?” I ask, standing next to her.

“Yeah. Just a lot to take in and think about.” She runs her fingers through her hair and tucks it behind her ear. “One moment I’m dying of cancer, and the next I’m in some fucked up Academy for dead people. An Academy for dead people that helps other dead people, nonetheless.”

She leans back on her heels and rocks up to her toes. “How did you die, Preston?”

My heart sinks into my stomach. I can’t lie to this girl, especially on the Bridge of Truth. “I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s okay.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry, Preston. I shouldn’t have asked. I—”

“Shh,” I hush her, placing my finger on her perfect, pink lips. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” I drop my hand and gesture toward the opposite end of Pontem Veritas. “We should get going anyway. Don’t want to be late on your first day.” I head toward the dorms, and she hurries to catch up.

“Late for what?” she queries, raising one blonde eyebrow at me.

“The assembly.”

She groans. “I hate assemblies! The band that couldn’t quite play in tune, the screeching microphones, the pep talks that always had the opposite effect on me.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I can assure you that the assembly to which you will be a part of will be nothing like that.”

“Okay good, then I’ll go,” she concedes.

“Great. The Academy wouldn’t be the same without you, Hadley.”

A beautiful flush creeps up her chest, warming her cheeks. I think this girl struggles with compliments. I tuck that information in the back of my mind and offer her my arm as we leave the bridge and head down a flight of stairs embedded into the side of a large hill overlooking the Academy.

From here, we can see all the buildings that make up the school.

“Those are the dormitories,” I tell her, pointing. Spanning out from a central, circular building like the legs of a spider, are the dorms that belong to each division of the Afterworld and one designed specifically for the Dearly Departed. “One for each of the four divisions, and one for the Dearly Departed, like you. The central building is where you’ll go to hang out, launder your uniforms, and do light shopping for your room.”

The central building, called the Center, has windows spanning the length of the walls, and each door and window is ornately detailed. Turrets and gables rise from the brick structure, complete with stained glass windows. It’s a blend of styles—old-fashioned and modern—existing in uncanny harmony, while still giving off a very gothic feel. The bottom level houses the recreation room and a makeshift auditorium while the top two floors serve as the library.

“Beyond those buildings, through that patch of ancient evergreens, is the Academy itself,” I continue, as we slowly make our way down the hill, her little hand gripping my arm firmly for support. “That’s where you’ll take your classes and begin your training.”

One thing the Afterworld Academy has going for them is a beautiful campus, I’ll give them that. Woods encompass every acre of campus that isn’t a building, their thick tapestry obscuring the other buildings from view. However, there is a pathway that extends from the central building, past the dorms, and leads to the immense academic building with ivy growing on the walls and row after row of perfectly washed windows. To the left side of the academic building, connected by a glass walkway, is the cafeteria. On the right is the medical building, smaller than the other two, resembling a quaint cottage one would find in the mountains.

“Training?”

“Yep. But you’ll learn all about that at the assembly. Come on.” I quicken my pace, tugging her along with me.

We head towards the Center. I know, real original. The electric doors open for us, and a whoosh of cool air chills my skin. There are others inside, Reapers with their respective Dearly Departeds. This floor is usually a common area, but it has been retrofitted for the assembly. Rows and rows of white chairs fill in the large space, and a stage has been erected in the center.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

She pauses. “Ready for what?”

“To begin the journey of a lifetime.”

Well...a deadtime.

Chapter 3

Hadley

Reaper dude is staring at my boobs. Again.

Oh, he thinks I don’t notice, but I notice everything. Especially hot guys intently staring at my girls.

Well, dead girls now.

As he leads me to a seat near the front, I allow my eyes to survey all of the people present. To my surprise, there are numerous ages sitting around me. A man that looks to be in his mid-sixties with gray hair and a wispy mustache. A younger girl who can’t be older than ten.

Preston, noticing the direction of my gaze, leans in to whisper in my ear. I try not to notice his hot breath fanning across my skin. I honestly try. I mentally give myself a gold star when I don’t start advertising my vagina as open for business.

“Not everyone is chosen for Afterworld Academy,” he explains. This time, his eyes are actually focused on my own. “But the ones that are chosen are from various backgrounds. Different races, genders, and ages.”

“Interesting,” I reply back. A guy a few rows over catches my gaze and winks. He’s handsome, I’ll give him that, with white hair cut short and a square jaw. Even sitting down, I can tell he’ll have broad shoulders and a tapered waist. What startles me the most, though, are the two large wings sprouting from his back. The white feathers catch in the artificial light, glistening like thousands of minuscule diamonds.

When I was...well...dying, I didn’t have a lot of time to enjoy the finer things in life. The finer things meaning penises for those just joining the party. That isn’t to say I’m a squeaky clean virgin—I’ve had my fair share of hookups in my twenty years—but never a relationship.

The guy continues to stare at me, his gaze almost unnerving. There is an intensity in his eyes that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I can’t decide if I desire his attention or abhor it.

“That’s Jake, a third year Angel.” Preston’s voice is dark with an indefinable emotion. “Fucking Jake. He shouldn’t even be here. He’s not a Dearly Departed or a Reaper.”

“What did Fucking Jake do to have your cock so twisted up?” I inquire, finally breaking eye contact with the strange man. No, not man.

Angel.

Preston squirms uncomfortably in his chair, but is saved from responding by a tall, domineering man in his mid-forties stepping onto the stage. Even if he wasn’t seven feet tall, he would still be the type of man to innately command my attention and respect. There is something about his dark, nearly black, eyes and lightly tanned skin that ensnares me and holds me captive. The usual fidgets and whispers one would expect in an assembly diminish entirely.

And of course, that could also be because of the bat-like wings protruding from each of his shoulder blades. Raised veins line the interior of his wings in a lighter shade of black. A part of me wants to look away, while the other part is utterly enthralled. What is it with the men here? Is there something in the water? The food we don’t have to eat? It takes me a moment to pinpoint what this ethereal man is. If Fucking Jake is an Angel, this man must be a Demon.

A Demon.

In the flesh.

Standing on a stage in a pressed suit with his hair slicked back.

I feel like I’m in an episode of Supernatural staring at a sexy-as-sin Lucifer.

“Oh God,” I whisper conspiratorially to Preston. “Don’t tell me that’s the devil.”

“What?” He sounds aghast, and I feel my panic abate. “The devil would never stoop so low as to talk to the school.”

And...the panic sets in again, tightening my stomach.

“That’s Stefan,” he continues, oblivious to my growing unease. “Headmaster and Demon.”

“And no relation to the devil?” I ask hopefully. What can I say? The devil scares the shit out of me.

Preston chuckles as if I’m the cutest girl in the world but doesn’t answer.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Dearly Departed, welcome to Afterworld Academy.”

The applause is instantaneous, a roar that reverberates through my body, and I instinctively flinch at the cacophony of noises. I’m not used to loud sounds. Crowds. People.

In my room at the hospital, I was greeted by the occasional nurse, the intermittent arrival of my doctors, the steady beeping of my heart monitor, and the drip of an IV. Sometimes, Ocean would visit me with friends. Other times, my family would gather around my bedside and hold vigil.

I honestly hated it. Loathed it.

The pity, the tears, the sympathetic glances when they thought no one was looking.

“Oh, the poor dying girl. I’m going to cry now for ten hours even though I only talked to her once in my life.”

Give me a fucking break.

It’s funny how when you’re dying, people finally start noticing you. They can’t find two shits to spare when you’re alive and well, but spend a night in the hospital and suddenly everyone loves you. That conditional love is depressing if you ask me. Who knew that the price of their love would be my death?

Shaking my head, I focus my attention on Stefan No Relation To Lucifer.

His piercing eyes scan the crowd, and I could’ve sworn they rested on me a second longer than normal. Of course, I probably imagined it.

“As your Reaper might have explained, you’ve been chosen to join the prestigious Afterworld Academy.” At Stefan’s words, Preston straightens in his seat and smiles smugly.

Catching my gaze, he points to his chest and mouths, “That’s me. Reaper Badass.”

“To clarify, it was not us—the professors or the students—who chose you to attend. The Fates have decreed it.” He pauses, and I begin to suspect that Stefan has a penchant for the dramatics. The silence is almost deafening, a palpable mist glissading over the students. Nobody dares breathe, the tranquility as fragile as fine glass.

“There are four divisions of the Afterworld. Four divisions required to make the Afterlife run smoothly.” Another pause, this one more pronounced. I actually want to groan. Can’t he hurry the speech along?

If I were alive, I would probably have to piss by now. I suppose it’s the one good thing about being dead. Oh, and lack of menstrual cycles. The last thing I want is for the volcano to erupt in the Afterlife.

“Reapers are in charge of bringing souls to the Afterlife and sending them to the Judgment Hall.”

The Judgment Hall sounds scary as fuck. Someone to judge me and my past sins? No thanks. A hard pass from me. I prefer to sin in silence, thank you very much.

“From there, the Reaper will guide their soul to Heaven or Hell, depending on what the Judgment Hall decides. Angels run Heaven, administration, and housing, and maintain order. Same with the Demons in Hell. Ghosts are in charge of watching over the mortal realm, though I will admit that most have some sort of unfinished business that keeps them tethered there. But more on that in your classes.

“The first week of school is going to be a standard orientation. You will meet some of your professors, mentors, roommates, and fellow classmates. While food is no longer necessary for survival since you’re souls now, we realize it’s a novelty that some may enjoy. As such, there is a cafeteria beside the main academic building.

“The second week, mentorships and normal classes will begin. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, you will attend your classes, as indicated on the sheet of paper in your folder.”

As if summoned by magic, a red folder materializes in my hands, a golden crest of wings adorning the silky surface. Inside, a single paper sits.

A class schedule.

My eyes scan the classes listed, widening imperceptibly with each new name.

Afterlife 101 - The Fundamentals

Combat Training

History of the Afterlife

Demonology and Angelology

Reapers

Ghosts and Exorcisms

One thing is certain—I’m not in Kansas anymore. At least there’s no math or chemistry. I fucking hated those classes when I was in high school.

There are hushed murmurs emanating from my fellow students. Only the Reapers and Fucking Jake appear unimpressed.

Clearing his throat, his voice strident, Stefan continues, “On Tuesday and Thursday, you will begin your mentorships with the third-year students.” He once more penetrates the crowd with a smoldering glare. “The Reaper who guided your soul here will serve as your Reaper mentor. Get to know him or her. You will be seeing a lot of them.”

Preston positively preens, his smile widening until I’m blinded by his white teeth.

“It seems you’re stuck with me,” he whispers, his voice infused with something similar to elation. I feel myself instinctively smile back.

As Reapers go, I didn’t get a horrible one. Good looking and funny? Not a bad choice.

“Starting next week, you will work with your Reaper mentors. They will show you the ins and outs of reaping souls. The following week, we will assign you an Angel mentor. The next will be a Demon mentor. Finally, you will work with your Ghost mentor. This schedule will repeat until the end of the first year.”

This time, I can make out individual voices in the crowd. Excitement. Fear. Worry.

I know my stomach is a tumultuous combination of excitement and dread. Will I be able to see my family again? Ocean?

Stefan raises his hands, and the noise gradually recedes. Everyone looks up in rapt attention, eagerly hanging on to his every word.

“You will get your mentors in the coming days and are more than welcome to seek them out for any questions with your classwork.”

His thin red lips curve upwards.

“At the end of your first year, the Fates will determine your final placement. Demon. Angel. Reaper. Or Ghost.” He claps his hands together. “Now, Reapers? Show your charges their new rooms.”

Preston leads me to the building he’d indicated as the dorms for the Dearly Departed. Pushing open the door, he steps aside to let me through with a dramatic bow.

“For you, m’lady.”

“Why, thank you.” I accent my voice in a poor impersonation of an eighteenth-century British lady.

We enter a grand, opulent lobby with a three-tiered chandelier and a single desk against the far wall. What looks to be a Demon sits behind it, his eyes slitted indolently. He manages a nod as we step through.

“Wow. The Afterlife really went all out with this,” I marvel, spinning in a wide circle. Two couches are in a tiny alcove off the main lobby, a television mounted to the wall. On the opposite side, a pool table and a ping-pong table take up the majority of space.

“They like to keep their little workers happy,” Preston comments, chuckling good-naturedly as he leads me down a long corridor. Door after door line either side, each one inscribed with a number and two name plaques. We stop at the farthest one down, and I’m shocked to see my own name glaring back at me.

Hadley Jameson.

I frown at the second name beside it.

Do I have a fucking roommate?

Dear God, no. As per the whole “only child arrangement,” I have never had to share my room before. Not even at the hospital. My parents—read as: my grandparents who I never spoke to but peppered me with gifts—were well off and secured me a private room. Sure, a sibling would’ve been nice, but I’m extremely possessive of my things. A little sister stealing my sweater? Hell no. I would have cut off her hand and stuffed it up her anus.

“So, um, I guess I’ll leave you here,” Preston babbles. He spears his fingers through his hair, the brown strands becoming wildly disheveled.

“Yup.”

I glance inside my folder, surprised to see a golden key glimmering in the dim light. It's nondescript, simple, with my name carved into the side.

“Magic folder,” I muse, holding the key with something akin to reverence.

“So...do you need any help?” Preston rocks back on his heel and nods towards the key. “With that?”

“I know how to open a door, Preston.”

“Right. Well, you just put the key in the lock like this.” He raises one hand and curls his fingers into a circle. With the other, he pantomimes placing a key into the hole using his finger and makes a twisting motion.

Over and over and over again.

He freezes, his finger inserted into his makeshift finger hole, and the color drains from his face.

“Um...I should stop now, shouldn’t I?”

I chuckle. Something about this Reaper boy...

Well...

He amuses me.

I actually enjoyed his company, a feat I didn’t think was possible.

“That would probably be a good idea,” I answer. Feeling his eyes on me, I dramatically place the key into the keyhole and let out a low moan.

Preston’s eyes are saucers in his face, twin pools of mossy green. He nonchalantly readjusts his pants.

“I’m going to, you know, go now.”

“You do that.”

Without another word, Preston runs as if the hounds of Hell are on his heels.

Huh. Are there such things as Hellhounds?

I suppose that would be a question for my Demon mentor.

With bated breath, I open the door and brace myself for who will inevitably be my companion for the rest of the semester.

I had mentally prepared myself for a lot of things—preppy girls, shy girls, pimpled-face girls just as awkward as me.

What I didn’t expect, however, was a naked lady jumping on the bed.

A naked, eighty-year-old lady jumping on the bed.

Fucking hell.

Chapter 4

Hadley

Very few things scare me.

Bugs? Fuck yeah. Those nasty critters can crawl back into Hell where they belong.

The dark? Nah. I learned long ago that monsters hide in plain sight.

Naked old ladies jumping up and down on the bed, saggy tits...well...sagging? That is a fear I never knew I had.

“Um...” I stutter, pausing in the doorway. Because, really, what does someone say to something like this?

The woman smiles down at me, finally ceasing her excessive jumping. As I watch in a mixture of horror and enthrallment, she plops down on her butt and smiles warmly at me.

“You must be Hadley, dear. My name is Angus Thornberry. But you can call me Aggie.”

Does it make me a horrible person that I mentally warped the name to Saggy Aggie in my head?

Returning her smile with a forced one of my own, I shake her proffered hand before stepping back to stand near the door.

Don’t look at the boobs, Hadley. For the love of cupcakes, don’t look at the boobs...

And I’m looking.

Honestly, I can’t look away. They just kind of hang there like two depleted sandbags.

“Letting the toots and hoots run free,” she says conspiratorially, obviously knowing where my mind went. She points first to her breasts and then to her ass as she stands.

“That’s...um...good.”

I mentally slap myself.

“Letting the sausage maker and sausage taker get some air,” she explains seriously.

“Oh, wow. How interesting,” I deadpan. She nods her head once.

“Need to give them some freedom or else they’ll rebel. Don’t want the LEGO tower pruning up.”

At this point, I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about. And what the hell is a LEGO tower?

Whatever it is, I don’t want to know. At all. That’s a major no, slam the front door, duck my head in the sand until I suffocate type of no.

“You should do it too,” Saggy Aggie continues earnestly. “Free the Kraken.”

“Um...”

“Let the beast prowl.”

“Uh...”

“Assist the cyst.”

Now I’m positive she’s just making shit up.

Her lips curl into a devious smirk as she crooks one finger at me in a come-hither gesture.

I remain rooted to my spot near the door. You know, for easy access if I have to make a break for it. I’ve already seen way more of my roommate—if that’s what she is—than I ever wanted to. “Scarred for life” should be printed on all my shirts.

Aggie cackles suddenly, reaching behind her to grab a silk robe off her bedside post.

“I’m just fucking with you. You should see your face.” She laughs again, the sound maniacal. The laughter dissipates as quickly as it begins as she levels me with a serious frown. “But in all seriousness, don’t tame your monster.”

“That’s...um...good advice.”

I mean, it would be if I didn’t know she was referring to her pussy.

Yup. Traumatized.

Now that her robe is on, I study the room.

It is small, smaller than my room back on Earth—still freaks me the fuck out to say that—with two beds on either side of the small space. Desks flank each bed, meeting each other in the center of the room. On either side of the door, two wardrobes rest. The room is oddly cozy, my bed already made and pictures from home plastered on the walls.

I marvel at my surroundings and peer into the closet, shocked to discover my clothes are already hung up.

Aggie watches me with veiled amusement.

“Angel,” she states suddenly, her eyes brightening like she had a grand epiphany. I merely quirk a brow at her. “You look like you’re going to be an Angel. That’s my guess. At the end of the year, you’ll have fluffy white wings, a halo, and golden lace woven into your vagina.”

What the fuck?

“Um...” I turn back towards my closet, nonchalantly perusing my clothes as I think over her words. Me? An Angel? It’s laughable.

But then again, this whole experience feels like something out of a dream. I keep expecting to wake up in the hospital bed with scratchy blankets and the artificial smell of chlorine permeating the air.

“Maybe,” I reply, deciding on a response at last.

It still strikes me as odd that Fate has chosen me, of all people, to help run the Afterlife. Obviously, they have no idea what the fuck they are doing. Me trying to run anything is the equivalent of a semi-truck ramming straight into a cement wall.

I consider myself more of an observer than a leader. More of a middle-management type of person. Not good enough to be considered angelic, but not evil enough to be called a devil. I don’t have the patience to handle souls, nor the “unfinished business” shit to be considered a Ghost.

My conclusion? Someone fucked up marvelously.

“I’m hungry,” Aggie whines dramatically even though I know being hungry is not possible. But her whining does the trick and garners my attention yet again. On closer inspection, I see she has thinning white hair, a wrinkled face, and knobby hands. With an elaborate flourish, she rips off her robe—and I’m talking Clark Kent becoming Superman type of rip—and grabs a dainty school girl’s uniform out of her closet. “Get dressed, and let’s eat.”

Frowning, I turn back towards my closet and notice something I had missed in my initial inspection. A uniform hangs from the closet—short skirt, white blouse, and knee-high socks. It’s the stereotypical school girl attire, and I instantly want to vomit. Someone has watched way too much porn in their lifetime.

Growling in displeasure, I dress in the horrendous uniform and brush my hair out of my eyes. I probably should do something with the disheveled tangles, but Aggie’s right. The prospect of food is too enticing to wait a moment longer. I’m not hungry—the Afterlife has assured me of that—but phantom pains linger in my stomach.

“This way,” Aggie instructs, leading me out of the dorm room and through the building. A few people are still settling in, the sound of furniture moving around and excited murmurs reaching me. A few third year Reapers linger, watching their charges with clinical detachment. I feel a pang that resembles disappointment when I don’t spot Preston in the sea of students.

I do, however, make eye contact with a familiar, white-haired Angel.

“Are you stalking me?” Fucking Jake asks with mock disapproval. His easygoing smile belies his angry words though.

“Maybe,” I retort with a grin.

Aggie’s eyes volley between the two of us like we are an exciting tennis match.

“So, you’re a Dearly Departed,” he notes, that easy smile still in place. “And Preston is your Reaper?” At this, something flashes in his eyes. Something almost dark that sends the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Pushing the strange feeling down, I nod.

“Yup. And you’re an Angel?” Apparently, we’re just pointing out the obvious.

Smirking, he quite literally ruffles his feathers. I have the distinct feeling it’s the equivalent of a man puffing out his chest in a macho display or whipping out his dick.

“Maybe I’ll be your Angel mentor.” He takes a step closer, his whiskey colored eyes roaming over my face.

I lick my suddenly dry lips.

“Maybe.”

“Jake!” a rough voice snaps, pulling me out of my reverie. I blink, startled, and turn towards the new voice. My mouth instantly waters.

Does every guy at this school have to be so incredibly attractive?

The new man has the white hair I’m beginning to associate with all Angels. Unlike Fucking Jake, this guy has muscle upon muscle adorning his arms, chest, and legs. His sculpted face is all sharp angles, honey-toned skin, and brilliant blue eyes. Two large wings extend from his back, larger than any wings I have ever seen before. I wonder if wingspan correlates with...um...other anatomical body parts.

Nope. Not going there. Just because my vagina is a shameless hussy doesn’t mean my brain has to be.

“You know you have to be at the assembly for third years,” the new guy seethes. He barely spares me a glance.

“Fuck off.” Jake’s face twists hideously.

New guy straightens, his large muscles bunching. Jake isn’t small by any means, but he’s nothing compared to this guy.

Good grief. He could crush him if he wanted to.

I mean, he’s more than welcome to crush me whenever he wants…

I shake my head, ending my inner musings.

Jake and Muscles engage in a stare off, the air around them practically vibrating with electricity. I wonder if that’s an Angel power or just the palpable tension between them.

It’s Fucking Jake who looks away first, his scowl deepening. When he sees me looking, the scowl diminishes and is replaced by his signature cocky grin.

“See you later, Hadley babe.”

Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, he saunters off in the direction Muscles had entered from.

The new guy remains for a second longer, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. Hell, he doesn’t even look at me.

After a long moment, he sighs heavily, running long fingers through his white hair. His wings flap once, twice, and then he’s hurrying out the door without a backwards glance.

The entire exchange leaves me baffled.

“Well, hot damn.” Aggie fans her face. “The last time I had two guys fighting over me was in eighty-one on the roof of a Mexican restaurant.”

She links her arm with mine, chatting excitedly about what she calls the Great Siesta of Eighty-one, but my mind wanders, stuck on something. Something I can’t pinpoint.

It’s only when we’re in the cafeteria, with the smell of cinnamon and roasted chicken wafting to me, when I realize what struck me as odd.

I never told Jake my name.

Chapter 5

Auston

If you had told me the sweet girl I’d been guarding for the better part of the last several months would have her soul doomed to “live” here at the Afterworld Academy, I would have told you to fuck off. No one said the responsibilities of becoming a Guardian Angel would be easy. Hell, even spelling guardian is difficult. That damn I and A usually mix me up. Luckily for me, grammar and spelling are not necessary qualities for us Guardians. I’ll leave that shit up to the authors.

Hadley was a firecracker when we first met. Well... when I started guarding her, I guess I should say. Fierce and loyal to a fault, even if that loyalty only branched out to a few people, and sexy beyond belief. And fuck, if she didn’t always find herself in trouble. My poor dead heart would awaken and thump against my chest when she found herself in another precarious situation. The idiot girl would often sneak out of the hospital, partaking in illicit activities that would make a lesser Angel blush. Her excuse? She wanted to live before she died. She wanted to see the world and allow the world to see her. I couldn’t fault her on that, even if I did lose my damn mind.

Thank Heaven for my halo and wings. Those helped me rescue her on more than one occasion. Contrary to popular belief, not all Angels are gifted with halos and wings. Nope. They must be earned. Those of us chosen to become Guardians are given the opportunity to do so.

I earned my wings at the end of my first year. Rigorous training in the gym and flight simulator classes allow our instructors to decide if we can move on to become Guardians or just your basic Angel. Of course, I fucking excelled. Just as in my life before death, I excel in all aspects of the afterlife.

Year two, I started my Guardian classes, earning my halo. Now, the halo doesn’t just hover over my head at all times like one might think. The hundreds of murals dedicated to us give the living that presumption. No, our halos only show up in times of great need or extreme emotion. In times of duress, my halo gives me extra boosts of power, persuasion abilities, and precognition.

Those come in handy once you are given a mortal to look after. Sometimes, I’ll see things before they happen and I’m able to thwart situations that might have been disastrous. Other times, we’re able to whisper guidance to a mortal’s soul. Though their human ears cannot hear us, their souls do and respond according to our will.

All three of my Guarding abilities have aided me more times than I can even count while following Hadley around. So many times I just wanted to fold my wings, so to speak, and walk away from Guardianship. It weighs heavily on the heart, as well as the mind. Especially when Guarding someone like her. When she was dared by another patient in her ward to run naked across the street, unaware of the car barreling towards her on the icy road. When she fell down on her way to the bathroom because she refused to push the call button for a nurse. When she was in remission and went to a party, but her ride was too wasted to take her home. Who was there with her every step of the way? Who stopped the car with his bare hands, whispered words into the nurse’s ear that encouraged her to check on Hadley, and found a taxi that night of the party? Me.

During classes, we often share stories of our adventures on Earth, learning from others’ mistakes and successes. Some of their mortals were downright boring as fuck, making me grateful for my little troublemaker.

But Guardianship isn’t just about protecting our mortals during their lives. We also must suffer through their deaths.

I was there when Hadley received her cancer diagnosis. I held her hand when she endured a gamut of tests.

Blood work. Scans. Specialists.

Mental and physical exhaustion.

Silent tears she hid from the rest of the world.

Painted on smiles she wore for her friends and family.

A whispered promise that she was okay, that she felt no pain, even when her body shook with agony.

I was there through it all, whispering calming words to soothe her aching soul when her doctors told her it was stage four, when she learned she only had a few months to live.

But my Hadley was a fighter. Her strength never ceased to amaze me when she spent entire days receiving chemotherapy, only to have the treatment make her ill, making even eating a chore. She persevered through intense radiation sessions, not once complaining about the hand she was dealt.

It was agonizing for her, but she put on a brave face for her friends and family. Only I knew different. Guardians always know, since our souls are connected to our mortal’s in a very deep, very intimate way.

When the light came for her, when she took her last, painful breath, my halo almost ignited. Intense emotions heated my blood when I watched her soul leave her body. It was my worst day and also my best. Knowing she would no longer suffer gave me great peace, but realizing my time with her was over would have killed me had I still been alive.

To my abject horror, I saw Preston there, carting her soul off like groceries at a supermarket. A fierce anger brewed inside me, knowing I’d see her again at the Academy, that her soul would not be resting in the Afterlife. But what infuriated me the most was knowing that he would be named her Reaper. I realized then that he had been there for her at the same time I had...only I hadn’t realized it. On the mortal plane, we only saw the other species when they wanted us to see them. And Preston? He didn’t want anyone to know he was there except for in Hadley’s final moments, when his emotions were too strong to conceal himself from prying eyes. I doubted he even realized I was there as well.

A cacophony of emotions swirled in my gut when I was pulled back to the Academy. She would be assigned a Guardian, that much was certain. But I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be her mentor or not.

Could I allow another to take my place, guiding her through the Angelic segment of the afterlife?

Maybe.

Did I want her to rely on another Guardian, one that might not be as careful or meticulous as I?

Definitely not.

Though Miss Celeste and the Headmaster are the team who decide which Angel will be assigned to the DD’s, I hope I’m chosen to mentor Hadley.

Strolling through the doors of Miss Celeste’s classroom, I glide over to my desk and take a seat, remembering how shocked I was during my first class.

Learning that halos and wings were not a guarantee surprised me, but even being a normal Angel has its perks.

For instance, Guardian or not, Angels are educated in weaponry, specializing in the bow and arrow. Angels are also allowed to travel back down to Earth and visit the ones we love. Through the power of positive thinking, we are able to influence them. We send smells through the air that remind them of us or of those they miss to let them know we are around. It can be tiring though. Watching people grieve day in and day out is not a task for the weak hearted.

No.

It takes someone strong of mind. Someone like me.

“What crawled up your ass back there, Auston? Got your eyes on the new girl, do ya?”

I frown. Jake never did know when to shut his fucking mouth. “What’s it to you, Jake?” I throw as much sarcasm in his name as my voice will allow.

He smirks. “I put in a request to be her Angel mentor, you know. So you might as well back down before you embarrass yourself.”

Clearly, this bloke has forgotten who he’s talking to. I am Auston fucking Turner, lead student Guardian Angel, first in the class. My wings are larger and stronger than anyone else's. My powers of persuasion and premonition are far more advanced than any other third year. And when my halo glows, well, just make sure you remember to grab your shades.

What Jake doesn’t know is that I've had a premonition about him. He’ll get a Dearly Departed, but not the one he expects.

“Just watch yourself, Jake. Karma is a fickle woman. You’d do well not to anger her.”

His smile fades as Miss Celeste, head Guardian Angel, enters the classroom. Everyone takes their seats and waits quietly as she glides behind her desk.

Literally glides.

It’s a power granted to all Guardian Angels upon graduation. It’s more like levitation, really. We can hover a few inches over the ground, our thoughts moving us along instead of our legs.

I’m pretty fucking excited about it.

Celeste lowers herself to the ground with a click of her heeled shoes and clears her throat, grabbing everyone’s attention. Short and portly, with chocolate skin, tightly curled hair, and amber eyes, Celeste demands attention. She’s an Angel you don’t want to fuck with.

“Hello, class.”

“Hello, Miss Celeste,” we chant back in unison like we’re fucking five.

“By now, many of you are wondering which Dearly Departed you’ll be assigned to. I’ve just left the Headmaster’s office where he gave me the official list.”

She holds up a sealed scroll. Yep, you heard me right. The dead do like to be fancy. Breaking the wax seal, she unfurls the paper and shakes it dramatically, ensuring all eyes are focused on her.

“Jake Snodgrass.”

I snicker when I hear his last name. Fucking Snodgrass. My anticipation heightens, knowing the disappointment that lies just a moment away. “You are assigned to Bruce Overberger.” At that, I laugh even harder.

Snodgrass and Overberger. What a fucking team.

Jake levels me with a glare, but I counter with a wink and focus on Miss Celeste. She rambles on down the line, but I pay her no mind. My attention is elsewhere, anywhere, but here.

Resting my chin in my hand, I gaze out the window. It takes me a minute to realize I’m searching for her.

“Auston Turner.” My eyes flick back to the front of the room. I sit up a little taller and straighten my back. “You are assigned to Hadley Jameson.”

Yes!

Smug as fuck, I turn to a horrified Jake who raises his hand. Instead of waiting for Miss Celeste to call on him, he stands and speaks out of turn.

“But I put in a special request for Hadley, ma’am.”

“Indeed you did. But Administer and Headmaster thought it wise to give her to Auston.”

“But Preston—”

“No buts, Jake. Now, please take your seat.”

She gives Jake a glare that would curdle milk. His throat works as he sits down, red faced, teeth gnashing inside his mouth.

Miss Celeste focuses back on the list and rattles off the final names. I use this opportunity to take a shot at Jake.

Leaning over, I whisper, “Who’s embarrassed now, dick face?”

Mature, I know.

He takes a breath to retort back when Miss Celeste calls his name.

“Jake, please stay behind. The rest of you are dismissed. Go and find your DD and get acquainted. You’ll be spending ample time with them in the coming months.”

Pushing my chair back, I offer a frowning Jake a toothy smile and head off down the hallway. A flood of nervous excitement shoots through my veins. Knowing I’ll get to see her again causes my heart to squeeze. Then, the enormity of my new responsibility starts to weigh on me. She was tricky to guard in life, so I can only imagine what risky and potentially hazardous situations she’ll find herself in during the afterlife.

I push those thoughts aside and march down the hallway. Footsteps echo off the tiled walls as other Guardian Angels rush to find their new charges. I don’t chase after them. Instead, I take my time and filter through my thoughts.

I already know Preston is her Reaper. This means he has already spent generous amounts of time with her.

Just the thought of him near her irks me.

Preston was born with two left feet and a thick tongue. If he’s not tripping over his feet, then he’s falling over his words, so he’s not exactly an ideal candidate to mentor someone I care for deeply.

A memory of Preston tries to rear its head in my mind, but I quickly stuff it back down. I don’t like to dwell on what life used to be like. None of that matters now. Just one more year of suffering his presence, and I’ll never have to see him again.

Any of them.

I run my hand through my hair, pulling the white strands from my eyes. Preston and I haven’t talked since we were DDs, and even then it wasn’t by choice. I’m sure as hell not wanting any forced conversation now. However, since we are both her mentors, I know future awkward situations are inevitable.

The corridor ends, and the sliding glass door opens, allowing me to step outside. A fresh, warm breeze flows through my shoulder-length, white hair as I pass a group of female DDs. Deciding walking is for the wingless, I bend my knees and spread my massive wings. A collective gasp sounds from the girls as I launch myself into the bright blue sky.

After a few swift beats, I’m soaring over the landscape, arcing my wings as I ride the air currents high above the land. Heading past the dorms, I swoop down low and spot Hadley’s blonde locks on Pontem Veritas. I’d recognize them anywhere. But her soul is what calls to me; even in death, we are drawn towards one another.

Hadley is with an elderly woman. They both have a drink and are slurping it through bendy straws. Seems Hadley has already discovered the cafeteria. Though we don’t need to eat in the Afterlife, having a snack every now and then is something I’ve always enjoyed. Seeing as how my DD was unable to eat much in the final weeks of her life, I’m not surprised to find her consuming a frosted slurpee.

A premonition flashes in my mind, causing me to temporarily lose my momentum in the sky.

It’s Hadley, and she’s about to make another dangerous decision.

I tuck in my wings and make a beeline for her. With a smile on her face, she sets her drink down and climbs on top of the railing. She stands there for a long moment, her expression serene. I push myself even faster.

“No!” I shout, but it’s too late as a gust of wind shoots up through the canyon below and knocks her from the bridge.

Chapter 6

Hadley

Some of you might ask...why?

Why climb on a bridge when you know you have the balance of a kangaroo high on acid with no feet and ball sacks as hands?

Let me tell you a little secret—when you’re inches from death, as I have been since my freshman year of high school, you don’t worry about the consequences. Your mind is firmly in the here and now, and the inevitable future is swept beneath the proverbial rug.

What’s the worst that can happen? It’s not as if I can die again.

Or can I?

With a morbid curiosity, I wonder about that thought. The mere prospect makes my head spin and my stomach churn. Yup. Enough mind fucks for one day, thank you very much.

I wasn’t thinking of any of that as I placed my hand on the intricately carved railing, warm breeze blowing my blonde tresses away from my face. I wasn’t focused on Saggy Aggie’s speech about her rendezvous with two senators and a KFC bucket.

In that moment, it was just me, the fluffy clouds, and the rushing water frothing against the shoreline.

Until I fell.

Yup.

All in all, it isn’t my worst Friday night.

A scream escapes from my throat as the water rushes up to meet me, my heartbeat ricocheting in my chest.

Thousands of thoughts assault me, but one is the most prominent—I’m going to die. Again.

I can just see my second gravestone now, sitting at the edge of the school grounds.

Large and gray, my name etched into the marble.

“Here lies Hadley. Dying of her own stupidity.”

I can freely admit that climbing onto the bridge wasn’t my smartest move. Can you blame a girl for wanting to get a closer look at the ethereal beauty of the campus? The throng of trees painting a canvas of burgundy, garnet, and aspen yellow. The sky a shade of blue so vibrant an artist wouldn’t even be able to encapsulate it. The spires piercing the wispy, white clouds.

My artist’s mind has always been enraptured by beauty.

But falling from a bridge into the foamy water below? Ten out of ten would not recommend.

The second my body would’ve collided with the turbulent river, strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me upwards.

My lungs struggle to take in air, and my heart continues to beat erratically in my chest.

“What in the fucking cesspool just happened?” I bark, staring below me at what might’ve been my watery deathbed.

“I was going to ask you the same question,” my savior curtly responds. “Are you fucking insane? Are you trying to kill yourself? Again?”

“Again?” I turn in my captor’s arms, struggling to see his face. “I’ll have you know I didn’t choose to die the first time. Now get your flaccid dick out of your ass and put me down.”

His head flicks in my direction, and my breath instinctively catches.

It’s the Angel. Not Fucking Jake, but the other one I saw in my dorm building.

White, shoulder-length hair that feels like silk where my fingers are intertwined behind his neck. A body so incredibly muscular and sculpted any girl would have a wet dream.

And large, white wings flapping on either side of him.

Because...holy shit, he’s flying.

I’m flying.

Too soon, he places my unsteady ass back on the bridge. I stumble, probably resembling the little mermaid attempting to use her legs for the first time, and he catches me. His large, calloused hand engulfs my significantly smaller shoulder.

Up close, his eyes are a brilliant shade of blue. A light, piercing color like the sky when the sun is shining dazzlingly overhead. Golden flecks heighten his already angelic appearance.

Those beautiful eyes narrow on me with an almost incandescent fury. I swear I can see sparks electrifying the air.

“What the hell was that?” he questions briskly, throwing his hands in the air in aggravation. We are back on the bridge, a few feet away from Aggie who gapes at us wordlessly. I give her a tentative finger wave to let her know I’m alright before diverting my attention towards Muscles.

When I don’t answer fast enough, he takes a step towards me, his bulky form towering over mine.

“Do you not speak?”

I glare, matching his step with one of my own. I have to look up—dude is a freaking giant—but I make sure he sees that I’m not cowed by his rude remarks. I even raise my chin imperiously, channeling my inner bitch.

“Listen, nipple clamps, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you don’t get to yell at me. At all. That is not fucking okay.”

He takes a deep breath, eyes closing, before he surprises the shit out of me by nodding.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just...I just couldn’t...” His hand trembles slightly as he pulls his fingers through his white hair. “Seeing you fall like that was...not fun. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Oh.” My lips curl down. “Well, I had at least three more monologues planned and a grand finale musical number. I didn’t expect you to apologize so easily.” Something about the Angel seems familiar, but I know innately I’ve never met him before in my life. Still, I can’t stop my eyes from gently grazing his handsome features. No, I would most definitely remember someone like him. “I’m Hadley.”

I hold out my hand for him to shake.

His brow furrows, an adorably confused smile appearing on his face, before he takes the proffered hand.

“Auston,” he replies gruffly.

Auston. His name reverberates in my mind, evoking something akin to safety and comfort within me.

What the hell?

You just met the guy, Hadley. Don’t get your kinky panties in a twist.

Shaking my head to clear my muddled thoughts, I smile at him.

“So, Auston, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” Internally, I wince at my choice of words.

Do I have to be such a dork?

His smile only widens, although he quickly tries to mask it with an impassive front. Still, the corner of his lips twitch, hinting at whatever he wishes to remain hidden.

“I was looking for you, actually. I’m your Angel mentor.”

Angel mentor. My heart thumps painfully beneath my ribcage as molten fire snakes up my spine.

One attractive mentor I can handle, but two? I might spontaneously combust. Or my vagina will.

I pinch myself to orient my thoughts.

“My mentor? I have four, right? Preston is my Reaper mentor.”

His lips press into a thin line, and he mutters something that sounds like, “Unfortunately.”

Not about to get involved in a dick measuring contest, I smile once more.

“And what happened on the bridge was an accident, you know. I wasn’t trying to, like, throw myself over or anything.”

His face darkens further.

“I was just...seeing everything, you know? Seeing this new world. My world. It’s beautiful.” My voice turns soft, wistful, as I reminisce on what I never got to see when I was alive. Before I developed Hodgkin’s Lymphoma my freshman year of high school, my parents had been busy with work, believing we had our entire lives to go on vacation. The farthest I’d traveled was to Disney. After years in and out of remission, I spent the last few months of my life in the hospital. My traveling comprised of walking from my hospital room to the bathroom.

At my words, his face softens exponentially.

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do,” I counter, harsher than I intended. “I don’t know how you died—and that’s probably taboo to ask, so I won’t—but I died of cancer. My last days were spent in pain. Alone. Mom and Dad didn’t realize how close to the end I was, you know? It was the one night they decided to spend together. A date night. Every other night, they would huddle around me and hold my hand, but not the night I actually died. The only things I saw were doctors and ugly white blankets. My parents and friends came back after my soul already left my body. So sure, I got the hand-holding farewell moment and the tears, but at the same time, I didn’t. They weren’t there when I died. They were there after, when the doctors called them, and they huddled around me and whispered their goodbyes.”

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off with a scathing glare.

“Don’t,” I state firmly. “I don’t need sympathy. I’m just telling you how it is. I sometimes don’t think about the consequences.”

“Do you know what the consequences would’ve been if I hadn’t caught you?” he asks, not unkindly. His eyes trace my features with an intensity that leaves me reeling. “Your soul becomes lost in the void. The darkness. You may be dead, but there is a fate much worse than this. You still have conscious thought, free will, memories. In the void, you’re nothing.”

His words cause goosebumps to erupt on my flesh because, shit, that doesn’t sound fun.

“I didn’t know that,” I admit softly.

“I didn’t expect you to.”

We’re both silent for a long moment, each considering the other. Our stare off is interrupted by a familiar figure implanting herself in between us. Aggie smiles widely at Auston, while her eyes do an up and down perusal of his body.

“And who is this strapping gentleman?” she inquires coyly. With a giggle, she offers her hand for him to kiss. “I’m Aggie. And you are?”

After a moment of awkward staring, Auston grabs her fingers and gives them a little shake.

“Auston.” He nods towards me. “Her mentor.”

“And what big wings you have...” Aggie coos suggestively.

Ignoring her, Auston turns towards me.

“We’ll meet every morning to practice flying.”

“Flying?” I gasp, instinctively touching my back for wings I know don’t fucking exist. His lips twitch.

“There’s an elixir you drink. The wings last for only an hour.”

“Oh.” I try not to be disappointed that I won’t have my own pair.

“If, at the end of the year, the Fates determine you’re meant to be an Angel, you’ll grow your own. Or if you’re a Demon.” His lips curl at the latter statement. Oh yeah. Angels probably aren’t the biggest fans of Demons.

“Does it hurt?”

“For a little bit, yes. But it happens fast.”

“That’s what she said!” Aggie chortles, slapping her knee.

Once more, we ignore her.

“Next week, you’ll follow Preston while he reaps souls. Then the week after that, you’ll meet your Demon mentor. During your third week, you’ll follow your Ghost. And during the last week of the month, I’ll show you what Angels do besides flying.”

I can’t help but notice the way his lips curl when he says Preston’s name.

“Get a good night’s rest,” he continues. “Tomorrow, you’re going to begin learning things you only imagined as a human.”

I can’t tell if I’m excited, terrified, or aroused.

Maybe I hit my head when I fell off the bridge…

Chapter 7

Hadley

My first class of the day is Afterlife 101 - The Fundamentals.

Unlike with eating, we are required to sleep. A way to rest the mind, Aggie told me cryptically.

For a first year—a Dearly Departed—like me, she knows an awful lot about the Academy and the rules of the dead.

I wake feeling utterly refreshed and dress quickly in the standard school uniform. With two hairpins, I twist my sandy blonde locks out of my face.

My lips scrunch together as I survey myself in the full-length mirror.

Death has been good to me. Color has returned to my once pasty cheeks, and the weight I had lost has now returned. My hair is glossy, as if it has its own personal sheen, and my lips are a bright red.

A direct contrast to the dying girl from only a few days earlier.

We skip breakfast, moving swiftly down the halls and into our first classroom of the day. Artificial lighting gives the room a bright, homey feel. Three rows of desks sit in the center of the room facing a smart board and podium.

You would think the Afterlife would invest in something more...modern.

I take off the used backpack I found in my closet and unpack it. Notebooks. Pencils. A textbook that eerily looks like something that would contain satanic ritual instructions.

Student of the year, right here. All the gold fucking stars for me.

The second my last pencil is in its place on the desk, it is brutally pushed off. Along with my two notebooks, the Satan book, and my colored pens.

Blinking rapidly at the aggressive display, I glance at the newcomer who dared to disturb my...schooling.

Yeah, I realize that makes me sound like a nerd.

The girl above me is beautiful, there is no denying that. Her thick, onyx curls cascade to the middle of her back, and the light gold of her barrette heightens the golden flecks in her mossy green eyes. If I look mediocre in my uniform, she resembles a fucking goddess. The blouse dips low on her, abnormally so, to reveal a hint of cleavage and the lacy top of her bra. While my skirt rests at my knees, hers barely covers the bottom of her ass.

Someone has obviously gotten the measurements wrong.

“Can I help you?” I ask dryly, glancing at my school supplies littering the ground.

Aggie, who has been sitting beside me resting her head on her hands, sits up suddenly, staring on in rapt interest. Always a penchant for drama, that one.

“You’re in my seat,” new girl accuses haughtily. She even goes so far as to put her nose in the air.

“It’s the first day of class...and I’m in your seat,” I repeat.

I know people like her. Bullies. Bitches. The stereotypical mean girl.

And then the girl begins to laugh, her beautiful face softening.

“I’m just fucking with you.” Bending down, and giving the entire class an ample view of her ass, she grabs the stuff she dropped. “You should’ve seen your face. I’m Layla.”

My confusion is growing by the second, but I take her offered hand with my own. “Hadley.”

“And I’m Aggie,” my roommate says, never one to be ignored.

Plopping in the seat on the other side of me, Layla grins mischievously. “So, are you ready for the first day of...well...official deadness?”

“Official deadness?” I echo, lips twitching. “That’s a good way to look at it.”

“My Reaper says that the first week is the worst. Just a bunch of classes and homework. Homework. I thought I finished that when I graduated college,” Layla grumbles. She pouts, oddly resembling a petulant child getting reprimanded by a parent instead of the supermodel she actually is.

“What did you go to school for?” I question at the same time Aggie interjects, “Who’s your Reaper, and is he single?”

Thirsty old bitch.

Layla chuckles, crossing her long legs. The movement captures the attention of every guy in the class. Literally every guy.

One goes as far as to lean over, trying to peek under her skirt, and face-plants on the ground. Either oblivious or choosing to ignore the attention aimed her way, Layla addresses Aggie first.

“Her name is Theresa, and she’s nice.” Layla emphasizes “her” with a pointed look in my roommate’s direction. Aggie scowls, muttering something about the “lack of man meat” beneath her breath.

Turning towards me, Layla answers, “I studied English in the hopes of being an English teacher.”

“Wow. And how’d you die?” I immediately wince at the crass question. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Err...you don’t need to answer that.”

Layla waves her hand dismissively, but her eyes flash with pain.

“No, it’s fine. Drunk driver. My boyfriend and I were hit on the way home from an engagement dinner.” My throat closes at the obvious anguish in her voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t end up here,” she murmurs softly. “His soul wasn’t chosen to attend the Academy.”

Double shit.

“At least he’s in a better place,” I add meekly. Inwardly, I groan.

Better place?

I always hated when people said that to my parents when they thought I was sleeping. At least she’s going to a better place.

But no one knew that for sure. It was just words used to console the grieving like one would apologize for something that wasn’t their fault. Words didn’t bring back the dead.

Before I can put my foot in my mouth again, the classroom door opens and an arresting older woman enters. She’s dressed in a tight corset and an intricately detailed ball gown, which swoops around her feet in ruffles of red and black. Her salt and peppered hair flows to mid-back, braided away from her face. Barefoot, she glides to the front of the classroom.

On closer inspection, I can see the slightest shimmer around her body.

Her translucent body.

My breath hitches as I stare at the otherworldly professor.

“A Ghost,” Layla whispers, leaning over so her words aren’t overheard. “They revert back to what they looked like when they died. Including their injuries, at least if they’re powerful. Not every Ghost retains their injuries, but in the Academy, it’s a sign of power.”

When the strange woman turns her head, it’s only then that I see dark blood coating the back of her scalp and hair. It drips unceremoniously down her shoulders, the noise vociferously loud in the quietness of the room.

“Good morning, students. My name is Patricia Myle, but you can call me Mrs. Myle. I will be your teacher for this class.”

“You’re a Ghost,” a boy whispers from the front of the classroom. He looks no older than thirteen, his face slack with shock. Mrs. Myle smiles sympathetically.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. I remember being a Dearly Departed myself. The shock. The confusion. The fear.” Her voice turns wistful as she recollects her early years at the school before she shakes her head vehemently. “But that was over two-hundred years ago.”

“Two-hundred years?” the same boy asks, aghast.

“Let that be lesson number one, kids. You’re immortal.”

Whispers instantly emerge from the classroom. Layla, beside me, pales.

“Does that mean we’ll never have eternal rest?” she pipes up. Mrs. Myle turns towards her.

“As most of you know, when a body dies, the soul itself goes to Heaven or Hell. A select few are chosen to run the Afterlife. Their souls undergo four years at Afterworld Academy—”

“Four?” Aggie speaks up. For the first time since I met her, her eyes are aglow with clarity. The wrinkles around her face are more pronounced as she leans forward, frowning.

Mrs. Myle’s smile turns placating, an expression I have seen on my mom numerous times. “The first year, you train in all aspects of the Afterlife. You learn the history, the varying divisions and what they do, and you also accompany your mentors, third year students. After your first year, the Fates choose your profession. The second year you focus fully on your new...job. It is a lot of hands-on work. Angels will often be assigned a case, Demons will lurk on the human plane, Ghosts will haunt their assigned human, and Reapers will practice collecting souls.

“During your third year, you will acquire a mentee. They will follow you around, and you will work with them on mastering every aspect of each division.

“The fourth year...well...it’s not a normal year at the Academy...” She trails off ominously, and my curiosity instantly piques. Layla straightens further, and Aggie narrows her eyes.

“And?” Aggie prompts.

“And…” Another smile graces Mrs. Myle’s face. “It’s a well-kept secret. Think of it as the final test.”

I exchange anxious glances with Layla and Aggie. If that doesn’t sound terrifying…

“The first week will consist of only classes. The following week you will begin your mentorships by following your Reaper around on Tuesday and Thursday. The other days will be normal class.” She claps her hands together. “Now, let’s begin today with introductions. Who would like to go first?”

* * *

My next class of the day is Combat Training with a big-ass man who looks as if he wants to squash me under his boot. With scarlet red hair and penetrating green eyes, Adam Time is a sight to behold. The black wings indicate he’s a Demon.

“You will get hurt. You will get bruises. You will fucking hate me and life—death—by the end,” he declares, pacing the gymnasium floor. Our class is huddled on the bleachers, with me sitting between Layla and Aggie once more. It seems as if I have every class with the voluptuous female and the perverted old lady.

Fortunately, Adam Time—or Master Time, as he demanded we call him—sends us away with only a warning that we have to come prepared for our asses to be whooped.

His words, not mine.

The rest of the classes pass the same way. Introductions, promises of bloodshed in the coming years, and reading requirements for the next class.

“This is going to suck donkey’s ass balls,” I lament, after we exit our last class, Ghosts and Exorcisms. Layla hefts her backpack farther up her shoulder.

“Demonology and Angelology seem interesting,” she comments, always looking at the bright side. A group of Demons walk by, and upon seeing Layla, whoop and catcall. She ignores them, which I’m beginning to see is her go-to move.

The girl is gorgeous, and her provocative outfit only accentuates that.

“That professor had a nice ass,” Aggie agrees seriously.

Before Layla can respond, a loud “shit” echoes from down the hall.

Recognizing the voice immediately, I rush towards the noise.

Preston is sprawled on the ground, his backpack a few feet away from him. I glance around, amused, but see literally nothing he could’ve tripped on or run into.

Nothing.

“Fall over your own feet again, Preston?” I ask teasingly, and he tilts his head back to stare up at me. A brilliant smile cleaves his face in two, and I feel something warm and tingly settle in my stomach. He’s handsome normally, but when he smiles, he’s fucking gorgeous.

“I’m just...making sure the carpet is comfortable,” he replies easily, patting the ground with his palm. “It is.”

“Oh my gosh. Are you okay?” Layla inquires in concern. His eyes flicker to her, and I feel myself tense. It’s completely instinctive.

Why should I care if he stares at her the way every other guy stared at her?

I have no claim on him. Hell, I barely even know him. He’s just...my Reaper.

Well, not mine mine. The Reaper is a better description. The Reaper who happens to be mine. But not mine in the way—

Gah!

Schooling my features, I watch Preston smile at Layla before focusing his attention back on me. His smile grows exponentially.

“Help a Reaper out?”

Rolling my eyes, I extend a hand towards him, and his warm one engulfs mine. I didn’t expect a dead guy to have such warm, soft hands. The heat he emits is almost palpable.

When he continues holding my hand, the warm flutters in my stomach turn into a raging inferno. Clearing my throat, I gesture towards Layla and Aggie.

“Preston, this is Aggie, my roommate, and Layla, another Dearly Departed.”

Aggie gives Preston a suggestive once-over, her tongue snaking out to lick her lip, while Layla wiggles her fingers in greeting. She casts me a very pointed look which I very studiously ignore.

“You just have all the yummy guys,” Aggie purrs. “If I was fifty years younger, I would show them how to ride my cherry stick.”

And…

I don’t want to know.

“You already met your other mentors?” Preston asks, drawing my attention back to him. His lips are curved downwards. “And they’re...attractive?” That frown of his grows deeper.

“Gorgeous,” Aggie says, fanning herself. “My lady heat quivers.”

“I just met one,” I cut in, purposely turning my back on the older woman. “My Angel mentor. Auston...something. I didn’t catch his last name.”

This time, his frown contorts into a scowl.

“Auston Turner,” he supplies bitingly.

“You know him?”

“You could say that.”

“You know, it’s not nice to talk about people without them present. A lesser Angel might smite you dead,” a familiar voice says from behind me. Auston appears a moment later, his white hair placed into a disheveled man bun on top of his head and those glorious wings of his on display.

“Auston.” Preston’s voice is pure venom.

Auston barely spares Preston a glance, turning his full attention to me. It’s unnerving to be the sole focus of his gaze. Layla, behind me, clears her throat uncomfortably, but even she, in all her sexy glory, is not enough to deter his piercing eyes from me.

“Where were you this morning?” he questions.

“Huh?”

Brainwaves officially dead. Yup. Dead.

He smirks as if he knows full well what his presence does to me.

“Flying lessons. Every morning.” He punctuates his statement by fluttering his wings.

“Hi. Um. I’m still here.” Preston quite literally shimmies himself between our two bodies, the movement forcing Auston back a step. “Reaper Extraordinaire, at your service.”

The large, imposing Angel scowls at him.

“Fuck off, Preston.”

“I was actually thinking,” Preston continues, “that it would be a good idea to train Hadley every morning on Reaper duties. Like...walking in a straight line and all that fun stuff. More important than flying. I mean, you can’t fly if you fall off a cliff and die.” He taps the side of his head. “Logic.”

“Sorry. Hadley’s mornings are taken,” Auston retorts scathingly. His large muscles bulge as he folds his arms over his barrel chest.

“With walking classes, you’re right. You can join in if you want.”

Auston takes a menacing step forward, danger exuding from every pore of his body, and Preston staggers, gripping my shoulder to right himself.

“Hadley can speak for herself,” I interrupt, their behavior reminding me of adolescent boys fighting over a toy.

And I’ll be damned if I’m that fucking toy.

Both men turn towards me, matching expressions of guilt etched across their faces. It’s only then that I note the similarities between the two.

Sure, Auston has white hair and is larger, but both men have strong jawlines, high cheekbones, and similar coloring.

“Holy shit!” I gasp. “Are you two brothers?”

“And the plot thickens,” I hear Aggie comment to Layla behind me.

Preston and Auston both scowl, mirror images of each other.

“Doesn’t matter,” Auston replies stiffly. “He’s a Reaper, and I’m an Angel.”

“Don’t give me that racist bullshit,” I snap, though I’m not sure if I’m using “racist” correctly. “You’re brothers, but you’re acting like enemies.”

Therapist Hadley puts on her spectacles and reclines in a leather chair, pencil poised over a notepad as she waits for her clients to divulge their life stories.

Reality Hadley receives matching blank stares.

It’s Auston who looks away first, glaring at Preston as if he wishes to penetrate the Reaper’s skin and tear out his organs through his stare alone. Auston reluctantly turns back towards me.

“Tomorrow. Eight AM. Large field behind your dorm,” Auston orders briskly, and I reel at being bossed around. Before I can protest, he pulls his wings into his body and storms down the hall, not bothering to spare a glance at Layla and Aggie.

Preston stares at his brother’s retreating form before cupping his mouth and screaming, “My dramatic exit is cooler than yours.” Turning towards me, he adds, “You’ll back me up on that, right?”

“You’re both children,” I deadpan, spinning away from him. There is only so much toxic masculinity I can take in one day.

Layla is covering her mouth with her arm to conceal her rather obvious laughter, and Aggie is staring off after Auston...well, after his ass. Real classy.

“I’ll be there tomorrow too!” Preston calls to my back. “For walking training. It’s important!”

“I’m not a toy you can fight over,” I reply, strolling down the hall. Layla moves to stand on one side of me while Aggie takes the other. There is a shuffle of footsteps as Preston hurries to keep pace with us.

“I know you’re not a toy,” he says to my back. “And I don’t want you to think this is a damn custody agreement or some shit like that. But damn, why does Auston always have to ruin everything?”

Finally, I spin around to face him. His eyes are downcast, the skin between his brows creased. When he notices I’ve stopped, the contemplative expression diminishes to be replaced by his customary smile.

This time, I can see the tightening of his eyes. Auston’s presence really shook him up.

“Look,” I begin, keeping my voice gentle. “You obviously have some issues with your brother. I don’t know you, and I don’t know him, and I’m not even going to pretend I understand what’s going on. But don’t drag me into this. I’m here to learn, and if your rivalry gets in the way of that, I’ll ask Administer for a new mentor. You understand? I’m not some toy you can pull back and forth until it breaks. Don’t treat me like that. At all.”

A multitude of emotions flickers across his face.

“You’re right. We shouldn’t drag you into our...feud. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you.”

Preston stares at me for a moment longer, opening his mouth as if he wishes to add something, but after a moment, he shuts it with a snap, nods his head, and hurries down the hall.

Layla calls, “Watch out for the—”

Just before he runs into an open door. All three of us wince.

“I’m okay!” he calls from his sprawled position on the ground.

“Klutz,” I whisper, surprised by the affection in my voice for the strange Reaper.

Only when Preston gets back up and disappears around the bend in the hall does Layla lean towards me.

“Girl, you’ve been holding out on me. Two guys in one day? Damn.”

Damn is right. I’m not sure I’m going to survive the undivided attention of two sexy as sin males. Hopefully, my other two mentors are ugly hags.

One can hope, right?

Chapter 8

BRAXTON

Sweat pours down my face as the iron gates begin to creak, bending under the assault of the monsters behind it. The cavern leading up to the gates is small, maybe fifty feet wide and twenty feet high. Beyond the creatures, the blaze of a roaring fire causes shadows to dance along the cavern’s rocky walls.

With a groan, the gates break, releasing the monsters that were pacing behind it. Hellhounds—feral assholes—are menacing and terrifying even on their best days. With their large, snarling, snapping jaws and flaming feet pounding the ground, they charge at us.

We brace ourselves for impact, legs spread, knees bent in a fighting stance. Extending my arm, I summon my sword and take my first swipe at the nearest growling face. My blade connects, slicing its head right off its body. The torso goes sailing behind me. Demon strength? It comes in handy sometimes. A snarl sounds on my right. I swirl quickly with my blade held above my head and attack the next hound.

He flattens his body, and my sword goes sailing over him.

Fuck.

Quick, ugly bastard.

Aiming at his chest, I reel my sword back to stab. The blade makes a wet noise as it penetrates the hound’s thick skin. He howls in pain as I twist the blade, then collapses into a heap on the floor.

I shake my dark hair from my eyes and find another Demon fighting a losing battle against a two-headed hound. Using my newest kill as a stepping stone, I push off his carcass and sail through the air. It’s a shame the ceilings are so low, making our leathery wings useless.

Like a javelin, I launch my sword at the beast. It sails through the steamy air and connects with a sickening thud, embedding itself between the hound’s ribs. It screeches and flails around, one of its massive heads turning to snap at the item piercing its body. Darren takes this opportunity to flip in the air and land on the beast's back.

With a roar, he sinks his blade into the back of one of its heads. That head goes limp, but the other becomes feral. Foam leaks from its mouth, its lips pulled back revealing rows of sharp fangs. The Hellhound’s dark eyes glow a fiery red as it rears on his hind legs and bats its front paws.

I run up to the beast and drop to my knees, ripping out my blade before rolling underneath it to slice at its belly. I slide out and pause in a crouch on the floor, bracing myself for its attack. As the beast comes down on its front paws, I jerk my sword upright and sink my weapon into its chest. The fire leaves its eyes as it falls on its side.

Dead. Just how I like them.

The noise around me dies down as my team of Demons eliminates the rest of the hounds. Taking a quick head count, I’m relieved to find none of my fighters have perished in battle.

“What now, Brax?” Darren asks, walking beside me.

I sweep the back of my hand across my forehead, pulling wet strands of hair from my eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious? We enter through the gates.”

Darren flips his sword around in a display of skill, then gestures towards the dilapidated gates.

“After you.” His tone is both reverent and belligerent—a combination only Darren has been able to perfect.

“Let’s go,” I command the others. Like a well-oiled machine, they file in behind me. I keep my blade at the ready as we exit the cavern into the fiery space beyond. Flames lick up the walls, and the heat quickly makes my skin slick with perspiration, but I don’t mind. As a Demon, I crave the heat.

Gripping the hilt of my sword tightly, I narrow my eyes and try to see what’s beyond the wall of fire. The monster we seek would be guarded by more than just Hellhounds. There are far worse creatures beyond the gates of Hell.

A great chasm greets us as we inch forward, molten lava flowing down in its gulch. A death trap for any who might fall. Luckily for us, we are bestowed with the gift of flight. Stretching my black wings out to my sides, I launch myself into the air and fly over the lava pit, landing softly on the other side.

Soft thuds land beside me as my team descends. Once everyone is across, we continue on. Through the flames, a new cavern opens up, this one much larger than the last. A series of dark tunnels dot the rock wall ahead of us like a honeycomb. We stalk over to them, trying to use our other senses to figure out which way to go.

I still find it hard to believe that as a third year, this is what we have to do. Entering the gates of Hell feels like it should be something set aside for graduates or those with more experience than us. The one time I had brought it up to Administer, he had merely stared down his nose at me and told me to “mind my own business.” Yup. Good communicator, that one.

Darren flies up to a tunnel near the ceiling and peers inside. I jump up with a boost from my wings to a tunnel in the middle.

I close my eyes and open my senses. Steady plunks of dripping water reach my ears and a fresh, crisp smell reaches my nose. Definitely not what we're looking for. The soul condemned here wouldn’t ooze anything calming or fresh. I descend down to the floor and pick a tunnel at the far end.

Crouching down, I step inside and take a whiff. Garbage. Like rotten eggs and meat left out in the sun for too long. Gagging from the potent scent, I place my hand on the wall to steady myself. I jump back when the rock beneath my hand begins to slither.

“What the fuck?” I whisper incredulously, before blowing into my hand to call on a ball of fire. With it burning brightly in my palm, I raise my arm and toss the flame down the tunnel. My heart pounds erratically, and a surge of adrenaline skates down my spine when the entire tunnel begins to wiggle and hiss.

“Any luck, guys?” I shout, backing out of the snake pit. Not that we actually know what it is we’re looking for. Professor Malcom simply took us to an old well in the cemetery and told us to jump in and search for an unimaginable monster of legend. He wouldn’t tell us its name, only saying that this monster takes the essence of souls, the ones accepted into the Afterworld Academy, and turns them into nightmares.

And I know nightmares.

I’m a fucking Demon.

“Nope.”

“Nothing.”

“Sorry, Braxton.”

I thread my fingers through my hair then pace in front of the tunnels. And that’s when I hear the screaming.

“You guys hear that?” I say, before launching myself into the air. The screams sound like they are surrounding me in a harrowing symphony of horror. Shrieks, howls, and cries bounce off the walls, sending chills through me in spite of the suffocating heat.

“Brax, look out!” Merik shouts, as a monster crawls out of the topmost tunnel and jumps down between us all. I’ve never seen anything so grotesque in my entire life… or death. Eight, spider-like, hairy legs descend from a fat body. As it skitters around the ground, its central body expands and grows, revealing a head that looks to be inside out and a pair of tattered wings.

It shrieks, forcing me to cover my ears. The noise is so piercing, I can feel blood leaking onto my hands. A thud sounds behind me, and I turn as another crawls out, just as large and just as nasty as its brother. At least fifteen feet long and ten feet high, these creatures are terrifying. The newest one lashes its front leg out at me, and it’s not until it cuts through the flesh on my thigh that I realize their feet end in claw-like projections. A searing pain burns through my leg as my blood runs down my leg and onto the ground.

Another screech has me looking up to see more inverted heads peeking through the tunnel, their muscles and bones on the outsides of their skulls and long, dripping fangs exposed.

“Retreat!” I shout. “Everyone, get the fuck out of here. Now!”

I swipe at the closest one with my sword, but with those ten-foot long legs, I can’t even get close.

My team stretches their wings and takes flight, Darren and I the last to launch. Just as we lift from the ground, he shrieks beside me.

“No!” I scream in horror, as one of the creatures takes Darren’s leg halfway down its throat.

Fuck this. No monster is going to eat my fucking friend. I twirl my blade and then launch it at the monster. When it sinks into its eyes, it screeches, green ooze squirting from the wound. The creature drops Darren, and I summon my weapon back into the tattoo on my arm as I pick up my friend.

It’s like fucking slow motion when I jump into the air, and the monsters below raise up on their back legs, swiping at us with their front claws. I’m able to lift my legs up just enough for them to miss us and flap my wings harder than I ever have in my entire time in the Afterlife.

We surge across the lava chasm and collapse on the other side. The creatures continue to shriek, causing a seemingly endless flow of sticky blood to cascade down my neck and splatter onto the ground. I can see them through the fires, pacing, waiting, but not following. Seems they can’t cross the lava gorge.

There’s something to be said for small victories.

I sigh in relief but don’t want to linger too long. We’ve been made very much aware of the other horrors that reside down here. Plus, Darren’s leg needs to be seen in the medical wing.

“Merik, help me with Darren.” I wince when I try to stand on my own mauled leg. The boy in my arm is barely moving, barely breathing, and panic erupts in my veins. He pales, and his eyes begin to flutter.

“Get him out of here!”

“Right away,” Merik responds, taking Darren into his arms.

Merik takes off towards the exit on foot, and I stumble behind him. The rest of my team is already out of the cavern containing the Hellhound bodies.

I never thought the Academy would be like this. That I’d be fighting for my undead life on top of all the other schooling. It’s a contrast to my initial expectation when I first heard the word “Academy” in Administer’s office. My days are a never ending battle, a fight for my life. Between fighting Demons in Hell, stalking a certain human on Earth, and my own constant onslaught of injuries, I can never have a moment of peace. Plus, I still haven't been advised as to who my DD will be. Another damn thing I have to deal with. Another damn thing I don’t have the fucking time to handle.

I push all those thoughts down and struggle up the portal at the bottom of the well, one of many spread around the Academy’s grounds. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life and death, it’s to take every day as it comes.

One battle at a time.

Chapter 9

Hadley

I never thought I’d have to pick out an outfit for flying and...errr...walking training.

Scouring the closet, I grab a pair of black yoga pants streaked with pink and a matching pink sports bra.

“How’s this?” I ask, turning towards Layla who’s perched on my bed. Aggie is still fast asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily. If it wasn’t for that, I might’ve thought she was dead. Again. The woman is deathly still.

“What look are you going for?” Layla crosses her long bare legs, her skirt riding up. As per her usual, she wears the Academy skirt and blouse that leaves little to the imagination. Her dark hair cascades over one shoulder in luscious curls. I wish I had the balls to wear what I wanted without fear of being reprimanded.

But I’m afraid I’ll resemble an Oompa Loompa instead of a Barbie doll like her.

“What do you mean?” I consider myself in the full-length mirror. The outfit will make my boobs look larger than they actually are and show off my toned stomach. The pants will accentuate my ample ass—my best quality, if I’m being honest.

“You’re obviously trying to impress these boys,” she points out. “Or else you wouldn’t worry so much about what you’re wearing.”

“I am not!” I protest, dramatically touching my chest. “What type of person do you take me for? Definitely not one who would try to seduce the sexy brothers. Nope. Not me. Never.”

Layla flashes me a brilliant smile, seeing through my defensive front.

Not that I blame her.

The thought of seducing Auston and Preston...

Goosebumps erupt on my arms at the mere thought, my body’s visceral reaction.

It honestly takes me by surprise. The two men, from what little I garnered, are incredibly different both in looks and personality. Well...not looks besides their hair color and body type. Their facial features? Similar. The way they flaunt those features? Extremely different. Preston is awkward and outgoing, his body lean and lightly muscled. A swimmer’s body. Broad shoulders leading down to a tapered waist and an easygoing smile that for some indecipherable reason makes me melt.

Fucking melt like he’s water and I’m the Wicked Witch of the West.

Auston, on the other hand, exudes strength and masculinity. I’m pretty sure even his muscles have muscles. Even when I was falling from the bridge, I felt instantly protected in his arms. Comforted.

“I wouldn’t blame you one bit.” Layla stands and moves to my closet, surveying the selection with calculating eyes. “Those men are fucking yummy. I could lick their abs.”

“And I could lick their penises,” Aggie cuts in, startling me enough that I drop the clothes I was carrying with a cry.

“Jesus Christ, Aggie! Warn a girl next time!”

She sits up in bed, blinking fatigue from her eyes, and as she stretches, the blanket falls down to, once again, reveal...

Sagging tits.

Of fucking course.

Layla, seemingly unperturbed by my roommate’s naked body, grabs a lime green tank top, dipped low, and black yoga pants with a green waistband.

“This.” She bobs her head decisively. “Not too revealing, but still shows off your body. This is the type of outfit you would glance once at, look away, and then stare at again because you’re not sure what exactly you saw the first time. Trust me. It oozes sexuality. Subtle sexuality.”

“Subtle,” I repeat dryly, grabbing the proffered outfit.

Aggie moves to stand behind me with her hands on her hips.

“What are you doing here?” she asks Layla, not unkindly. My friend’s—if you can even call her that this soon—lips twitch in something akin to a snarl.

“My roommate decided it would be a good idea to invite her Reaper back to our room,” Layla responds. When Aggie continues staring at her, not comprehending, she adds, “They’re doing the dirty. The horizontal tango. The willy and the nilly. The downward dog. Jackhammer galore. Pound town. Twiddle me nipples. Cahoot and the shoot. Trimming the garden. Wet a pet.”

“Okay!” I cut in, raising my hands. “I think she gets it.”

Aggie flashes me a look. “I need more examples. Maybe a demonstration…?”

“You kinky horn dog,” I tease, shaking my head. Without waiting for her response, I shut the door to the closet and change into the outfit Layla picked out. I have to admit that it looks good on me, and as an added bonus? It feels fucking amazing, the shirt gliding over my stomach like silk.

The straps are thin enough that you see my sports bra peeking through. Somehow, that adds to the whole “subtle sexuality” thing Layla mentioned. The pants, stopping mid-calf, cling to my body like a second skin.

It makes my ass look really fucking good.

When I emerge, Layla and Aggie are arguing about the proper way to put on a condom.

“You don’t fucking use your teeth,” Layla scoffs, her voice teeming with annoyance.

I’m so happy I missed that conversation.

While they’re preoccupied, I grab a hairbrush and untangle my sandy blonde locks. After placing it in a messy bun, strategically pulling pieces out so it looks even messier, I have to admit I look good.

I’m not vain or anything, but as most girls will tell you, there are moments when you feel prettier than normal. Who knew workout gear would do that for me?

Maybe I should’ve taken up jogging when I was alive.

And then I think about actually running and that thought dissipates.

I have a severe distrust of all people who can run more than a mile without a stitch appearing in their stomachs. Obviously, those people aren’t human. Unless you’re running to get food, there is no reason you should ever jog for fun. None.

“See? Subtly sexual.” Layla grins at me. “If I was a boy, I would totally tap that.”

“I’d look better in it,” Aggie mutters despondently.

“You definitely have the body for it,” Layla assures her, patting her arm. Aggie practically preens.

“I’m going to be heading out now. I’m already, like, ten minutes late.”

“Fashionably late,” Layla corrects, grabbing her Academy jacket off the chair. It’s way too hot to wear the thing, but Layla insists it adds something to the uniform. Honestly, I learned not to get into a fashion argument with Layla after she spent the last hour snapping at me for wearing mismatched pajamas. “I’ll come with. I’m meeting up with my Angel, Teddy, as well.”

“Teddy?” I hold the door open for her, and both she and Aggie step past. Immediately, I grab hold of Aggie’s bare shoulder and push her back into the room with a pointed look. She glances down at her naked body, shrugs, and attempts to follow me once more. This time, I slam the door in her face.

“Yeah. He’s in his mid-thirties. Died from a heart attack. Good man. Had a wife and two kids.” From her tone, I can see how much she admires and respects him.

We move briskly out of the dorm and into the blistering sun. Or, fake sun. I still have no idea if it’s an illusion or if the school is located on a fluffy white cloud over the Earth.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Layla asks.

“I think so. You?”

“In the building we had the assembly in. I think it’s usually like a recreation hall or something. Teddy said that...holy sex on a beach with sand in the vagina.”

I glance at her quickly in surprise, but her attention is fixed on something over my shoulder. Following the direction of her gaze, I feel my mouth drop open as well.

Yup. She’s right. These guys would totally be worth sand in the nether land.

They’re all gorgeous, but only one completely captures my attention.

He stands in front of the pack, his dark hair grazing his nearly black eyes. No, not nearly black. They are black. Obsidian orbs stare back at me from a face carved from marble. My breath hitches, and my heartbeat ratchets up a notch. His shirt is in tatters, blood matting portions of his hair to his scalp. He looks as if he has fought a meat grinder...and lost. Horns as dark as night jut from his head, and black, veiny wings protrude from his shoulder blades, and I wonder if they feel as velvety as they look.

His eyes ensnare my own, and I am helpless to look away. There’s something about him…

He seems familiar.

He glances away sharply, leaning forward to whisper something into the ear of the Demon girl standing next to him. She laughs, and his lips twitch.

Something akin to jealousy spears my chest, which is completely irrational. I don’t know him. At all.

So why does the little green monster want to come out and play?

“They’re Demons,” a gruff voice says in my ear, and I jump. It’s both familiar and unfamiliar, that voice.

“Hi, Jake,” I chirp, turning. His eyes raise from where they were obviously resting on my ass. An easy grin crosses his face, and he shifts his gaze from me to Layla. His eyes drop to her cleavage before moving lower to her long legs.

“Who’s this?” he inquires.

“Layla.” Her voice is uncharacteristically sharp.

“Demons,” I say, recapturing his attention. Not that I want it. Fucking Jake is good looking, but something about him puts me on edge. I can’t necessarily pinpoint what.

“They just returned from a trip to Hell,” he explains. “Second and third years often go on field trips like that. Demon students are sent to Hell with their teams to find and kill monsters.”

“Monsters?” I repeat, fascinated.

“Hellhounds, for one. They sometimes escape from the deepest pit of hell, and it’s the Demons’ job to keep them contained. Rogue souls too. Keep them in check. And, the most fearsome monster of all.” He lowers his voice ominously. It seems as if he believes that the lower his voice is, the closer he’s allowed to get to me. He pauses when his lips are a hair's breadth away from mine.

And then he stays there, waiting. Baiting me.

Damn my curiosity. I take the hook with greedy hands.

“What monster?” I tap my foot with annoyance.

“Before the beginning, there was Darkness. And that Darkness had to be trapped in order for the light to shine.”

Of all the cryptic bullshit…

“A few years ago, the Darkness escaped. The Demons over there? Led by Braxton? They’re a student division charged with finding it and killing it.”

“Wait!” Layla cuts in. “The Darkness is a real entity?”

“As real as you and me,” he states solemnly.

I shudder instinctively. This whole conversation is terrifying. Hellhounds and monsters and Darkness, oh my! It sounds like a macabre version of the Wizard of Oz.

“I need to get going,” I tell both Fucking Jake and Layla. “They’re going to wonder where I am.” I begin to walk in the direction of the clearing.

Jake’s voice sounds as if he’s eaten something sour when he calls, “Ah. Your mentors. Have fun with them.”

Something about his tone causes me to pause. Glancing over my shoulder, I level him with a glare that could shrivel grapes.

“What exactly do you mean?” I ask, feeling unsettled.

“I just said to have fun.” He tries to feign nonchalance but fails. Miserably.

“I recognize a warning when I hear it, Jake.”

He releases a heavy breath, his shoulders slumping, but his eyes are alive with...mischief? Excitement? Before I can place a finger on the emotion, he schools his expression.

“They’re brothers, as you probably know by now. And like all brothers, they fight over what they want. They don’t care about the toy they break in the process. Do you understand what I’m saying?” I search his earnest eyes, looking for any indication he’s pulling my leg. All I see is brutally raw sincerity. “Don’t get pulled into their competition to one up each other. It’ll only lead to pain. For you.”

“She appreciates your advice,” Layla cuts in snidely. She gives Jake an indefinable look. “Now, if you don’t mind…” With her hands, she makes a shooing motion.

Jake flashes her a wide smile before looking towards me. That smile softens somewhat as his eyes caress my body.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He brushes a strand of white hair out of his face. “It was nice to see you again, Hadley. Layla.” He merely nods at the sultry female before hurrying away.

“That was weird,” I muse, but Layla isn’t listening to me. Her eyes are firmly fixated on Jake’s retreating back, her brows creasing. Before I can comment, she turns to me and smiles. It’s the type of smile you would see on a mannequin, with their painted on lips and dead, haunted eyes.

“I have to go,” she says abruptly, spinning on her too tall heels and hurrying in the opposite direction of Jake.

I watch her go with no small amount of confusion.

To myself, I mutter, “No, that was weird.”

The mantra of my new life.

Well...death.

Chapter 10

PRESTON

Watching the exchange between Jake and Hadley was painful. But not as painful as it could have been falling out of the thorny bushes I was crouching behind. I hope she doesn’t see anything in that twatwaffle. He’s nothing but a wealth of lies followed by a side of bad news.

I should give her the benefit of the doubt. Hadley is a smart girl and wouldn’t go for someone like that. But I still can’t help the pang of jealousy that flared when he spoke into her ear. She shuddered when his lips neared her own, but I hope the reaction was in disgust and not pleasure.

Shudder in pleasure? Is that even a real thing? If it is, then I’d like to be the one to cause such a visceral reaction in her perfect body. The way those yoga pants hug her ass makes my cock twitch.

I wonder what type of panties she’s wearing today. I stared pretty hard at her ass and didn’t see any panty lines. So maybe that means…

She’s going commando!

Down boy! I order my rebellious cock.

And then there was the incident with Brax...

My excitement at seeing Hadley quickly turned into jealousy when Hadley’s eyes landed on Braxton. I could see the wheels spinning behind those pretty blue eyes as she took in his features. Hopefully, the blood and dirt covering his face were enough to hide the truth, at least for now.

I know she’ll find out soon enough, but I still hold on to hope that someone like Darren will be her Demon mentor.

She exchanges awkward goodbyes with Layla after getting a fucked up warning from Jake about Auston and me, then hustles off to meet me.

Oh fuck!

She’s off to meet me! And I’m not fucking there...

I scramble out of the bushes, taking prickles to the forearm, and rush off through the trees. Thank God for this shortcut I found during my second year. It’s helped me on more than one late occasion. As if being unbelievably clumsy in the Afterlife wasn’t bad enough, I also have no concept of time. My inner clock is always late, or maybe it’s just fucking broken.

A fallen log blocks my path, so, like the athlete I am, I speed up to jump over it. With a battle cry, I surge into the air, but my victorious shout quickly becomes a terrified scream as I misjudge the leap. My traitorous toe hooks the log, and I go crashing face first into the dirt.

“Ugh,” I groan, picking my face up off the ground. “Well, at least it didn’t rain today,” I mutter, as I brush the grass and fallen leaves off my form-fitting t-shirt and shorts.

Jogging much more slowly this time, I head to the clearing beyond the woods where I just know Auston is waiting impatiently for his charge. Even in life, he was prompt. As someone who is perpetually late, it annoyed the fuck out of me.

Sure as shit, he’s already waiting when I emerge from the trees.

He offers me a scowl when he sees I’ve joined him. I know he doesn’t want me here, but I don’t fucking care. Hadley is mine as much as she is his.

Auston can fucking suck it.

“Here for flight practice, Preston?” I take a breath to respond when I trip over my own feet and crash onto the grass. He huffs. “Seems to me like you might want to master walking first.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles bulging obnoxiously. “Maybe you could use your Reaper scythe as a cane? Ever thought of that?” He laughs at his own joke, the asshole that he is. “Who knew your weapon was multifunctional?”

“Suck a dick, Auston,” I gripe, pushing myself off the ground once more.

“You always did have such snappy comebacks, Pres,” he taunts.

“Hey guys!” a sweet voice calls from across the field. I can’t help but smile when I see Hadley waving at us as she walks over.

Fuck if she doesn’t look stunning. Her green tank top is strategically ripped so her abdomen peeks out when she moves. She looks so much healthier in the Afterlife than she did in death, having put on a few pounds, as well as gaining the ability to smile.

I jump up and down, waving excitedly back like an idiot. She covers her mouth with a delicate hand, and I know she’s trying to stifle a laugh at my expense. But I don’t really care. As long as my awkwardness makes her grin, that’s all that really matters to me.

“You’re late,” Auston scolds her. “Again.”

“At least I showed up this time,” she retorts, placing her hands on her curvy hips.

Speaking of those delicious hips, she cocks one to the side, only accentuating her hourglass figure even more. It takes me a moment before I realize it’s silent. I glance up to see her eyebrows raised, her eyes playful, and a cheeky grin on her face.

Fuck.

I’ve been caught gawking...again.

Auston gives me a disapproving glare, but Hadley walks over to me with a look of concern on her face.

“Preston, what happened to you? You’re bleeding and… and filthy.”

“Oh! I umm… fell?” I admit, as my cheeks heat.

“On what? Looks like you fought some rose bushes then lost a battle with the ground,” she says with a laugh. “Let me see that.”

Her fingers softly grab my forearms. It’s only then I realize how bad those thorns got me. Blood is smeared all over my arms. Grass stains streak over my white tank, and my hands and knees are covered in dirt. Hadley’s right, I do look like I got my ass beat by the forest.

“Eh, he’s fine,” Auston asserts. “This is nothing for Preston. You should have seen him when he was alive. He—”

Auston cuts himself off abruptly with a well-placed coughing fit.

“Anyway,” he deflects, throwing his long white hair into a bun on top of his head. “Are you ready for your first lesson?”

Hadley drops my arms.

“Kinda?” she hedges, as if unsure of herself. “I mean, ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I chime in. “Walking classes are first.”

Auston’s glare might scare others, but not me. I’ve spent years under his unapproving gaze.

“No. Flying lessons—”

I hold out a halting hand. “You said it yourself, Auston. How did you put it?” I grip my chin in thought before snapping my fingers. “Oh yeah! We might want to master walking first… right?”

I offer him a smirk and Hadley my arm.

Instead of accepting, she scowls and crosses her arms under her chest, pushing her cleavage right out of her tank. Auston and I both follow the movement with wide eyes.

“Will you two put your dicks away!” she shouts at us, throwing up her arms. “I’m of the mindset right now not to go with either one of you! I’m here to learn, not to watch you two sword fight. And if either of you stand in my way of doing that, then I’ll request another mentor. Preston, I already warned you about this. You know better. I hear Jake might be interested in the position.”

She cocks her head to the side and looks at us expectantly. For once, Auston has nothing to say and looks down at the ground, finding something interesting in the grass.

I cave first. “I’m sorry, Hadley. You’re right,” I acknowledge, hanging my head. “We should know better. Especially with all that talk about the Darkness—”

“Yeah… about that,” she cuts in. “Jake mentioned something about the Darkness earlier. Do you guys think it’s a real thing?”

“Fucking, Jake.” I meant to mutter that to myself. “Oops. Didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Hadley laughs. “No worries, Preston, that’s what I call him too.”

“You should see him in class,” Auston chimes in. “He’s seriously obsessed with the Darkness. He thinks he’s been sent to the Afterlife to catch it, and that only he alone can do it. That guy is seriously demented.”

For once, Auston and I agree on something.

“Be careful around him, Hadley,” Auston warns. She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I mean it!” He stalks over to her and lifts her chin with his hand, making sure she’s looking at him. “He’s up to trouble. You hear me? And once he sets his sights on you, which he clearly already has, he’ll put you on a path of destruction.”

She bats at his hand. “Don’t be so fucking cryptic, Auston. I can take care of one rogue Angel.”

Auston and I exchange a worried glance. One thing’s for sure. He cares about her as much as I do. That thought is comforting and aggravating at the same time.

“Auston’s right,” I interject. “A rogue Angel is nothing to shake your head at. Angels are powerful creatures, especially after they obtain their halo.”

Hadley doubles over in laughter. “You mean, those are actually real?” she asks, wiping a tear from her eye.

Auston’s perma-scowl returns. “Yes, they are, and they hold great power. Only Guardians are able to obtain them.”

“Guardians?” she questions. “Like… Guardian Angels? Those are real too?”

Auston’s face grows red. “Yes. More real than you know.”

Auston gives me a knowing glance before turning back to Hadley.

“Okay, flight lessons, since you clearly already know how to walk just fine.” He turns to me. “That seem appropriate to you, Preston?”

“Yeah,” I concede. “She walks just fine.”

If Auston had feathers, he would have ruffled them. Oh wait! He does. Even though we’ve been at Afterworld Academy for three years now, it’s still hard to think of my brothers as anything other than human.

As if he read my mind, Auston flutters his massive wings and launches himself into the air. Hadley shields her eyes from the sun and watches as he swoops and spins in the air.

I feel a twinge of jealousy at the way she looks at him. Yeah, he might be able to fly, but I’ve got something equally as cool up my sleeve. Just wait until she finds out I can reanimate the dead.

Chapter 11

Hadley

Flying sucks.

Or I suck.

At this point, I can’t tell the difference.

The potion Auston handed me was a sickly green color and tasted as nasty as it looked.

And then came the pain.

It lasted only a second, there and gone before I could do anything but moan. It was a tightening sensation, almost as if my skin was convulsing, a snake slithering beneath the surface, followed by what felt like my shoulders snapping. And then, emerging from my back were two glorious wings.

Under the bright sun, they appear iridescent, and they are soft beneath my fingers.

They’re beautiful...

But I can’t fucking use them.

I try, sure, and flap my wings like the best of them, but the most height I manage to get is a few feet off the ground. It’s that feeling of suspension, my feet hovering over the grass and the wind rushing through my hair, and then...

A Hadley pancake as I splatter on the ground.

Falling? Not something I would recommend.

“You’re doing great, Hadley,” Preston calls encouragingly from where he’s sitting on the grass, shoving popcorn in his mouth. How he got popcorn, I still don’t know.

“I’m falling on my ass,” I counter with a huff, pulling my tired and weary body off the ground. I ache in places no person should ever ache.

“Using wings is the equivalent of using any muscle,” Auston tells me. “You have to work up endurance. You can’t just run five miles overnight.”

Maybe, but, shit. I didn’t expect it to suck this bad.

The wings feel leaden and heavy, an unnatural weight that presses down on my back and shoulders. No matter how hard I try, they droop on the ground, dirt collecting and tarnishing the white feathers. Auston’s, of course, are as white as mountain top snow, the unblemished color painfully noticeable in comparison to my own.

“Uncle,” I wheeze, dramatically tapping my palm against the grass.

“Again.” This comes from the drill sergeant himself. Auston stands above me with his arms crossed over his muscular chest and a scowl etched on his face.

“You trying to kill me?”

“This is why she needed walking classes!” Preston yells out helplessly. “Reaper knows all.”

“Reaper shouldn’t speak in third person,” Auston retorts, twisting the word Reaper so it holds the weight of a swear word. My lips purse instinctively at that.

The divide between each species is exceedingly clear, even for me, a person who hasn’t been here long. Dearly Departed, the first years, are the only ones to interact with all four Afterlife groups. Angels tend to stick with one another in little groups...or—wait for it—flocks.

Demons, though surly bastards, are also clustered together in their designated “teams.”

Reapers and Ghosts are the same way, though both are not on campus as frequently due to their travels down to the mortal plane. Hell, I still haven’t even met my Ghost mentor. And my Demon one, come to think of it.

I don’t like the dissent, the animosity. Even as a newbie, I can decipher the cause for such divide—prejudice. This unrealistic mentality that one species is better than the other.

Why am I the only one who sees how fucked up that is?

“Can we stop with this bullshit, please?” I snipe, rolling onto my back and staring up at the light blue sky. Ironically enough, wispy clouds anoint the canvas, giving strength to my original belief that it is an illusion. It’s too perfect.

Or something.

Honestly, I have no idea where I am. Heaven? Hell? A place in between?

Preston and Auston begin to banter back and forth amongst themselves, but I pay them very little mind as I stand, grab the unnecessary water bottle Preston had procured for me, and walk in the opposite direction. It takes the dipshits a few moments to realize I’m leaving.

Their footsteps crackle foliage as they hurry to keep pace with me.

As one, like little petulant boys getting reprimanded by a teacher, they mutter, “Sorry.”

Yeah, I’m sorry too.

Sorry that this world created a divide between brothers.

“You two are acting like children,” I snap, never one to handle awkward silence. It always have to be filled with something, whether senseless chatter or quips. “Is this just about being different species?”

“Species.” Preston snorts. “You make us sound like gorillas and tigers frolicking through the woods.”

Auston adds tersely, “I don’t frolic.”

“Sure you don’t.” Preston pets his brother’s bicep sympathetically.

“And no,” Auston says to me, ignoring the Reaper, “it isn’t just about our divisions.”

“We haven’t been brothers since we died,” Preston adds crossly. It’s strange to see the normally good-natured, cheerful man looking so broody and somber.

“What happened?” I ask before I can stop myself. In all honesty, I have always been a nosy bitch. It’s a curse and a blessing.

Curiosity gets you answers, while passivity ends with more questions.

Auston and Preston exchange an expressive, almost intimate, glance before they remember they’re supposed to hate each other and look away.

The tips of Preston’s ears burn a vibrant red, and Auston’s perpetual scowl is once more firmly in place.

They’re both as taut as the strings on a violin, and I know I will receive no answers from them.

Yet.

Again, curiosity.

It’s always been my greatest strength.

Dropping it for now, I realize we have looped back towards the bridge. Below, water gushes angrily against the protruding rocks. It’s a steep decline from the shore to the water, one I would not want to experience firsthand. The turbulent river dances, its white foam cresting the shoreline, almost frothy in appearance.

I take a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in my chest. The conversation with the brothers left me rattled, unhinged. I can sense tension brewing between them like a kettle that has been on the stovetop for too long.

One of these days, they are going to explode.

And I’ll be damned if I get caught in the resulting inferno.

Something in the water catches my eye moments after we reach the intricately crafted bridge sheathed in a golden glow.

My curiosity piqued, I tentatively move to the railing and stare down below.

“What are you doing?” Auston rasps out.

“Maybe it’s a girl thing,” Preston whispers conspiratorially.

I do a double take, my attention fixating on what I thought I saw. At first, I think it’s a trick of the light. My own macabre fascination with death. A product of my already dark mind. Anything is a better alternative to what I actually see.

The water brushes the dead body against one of the many rocks, relentlessly smothering it, wave after wave. Still, I can see every detail of the lifeless form.

It will haunt me for the rest of eternity.

Again.

Until the day I die...again. Because I am dead. A real sucker punch, that thought.

But what I see is even worse than that. It looks like a girl with a cascade of auburn hair, her Academy skirt pushed up to mid-thigh. Her skin resembles fine chinaware after it has been dropped one too many times. Cracks snake down her face and legs, morbidly reminding me of a spiderweb. Gorged out holes remain where her eyes once were. Black, charred skin spans from her nose to her ears.

A large body comes up behind me and takes a sharp breath.

“Don’t look,” Auston urges, grabbing my shoulder and hauling me into his chest. Preston makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, a combination between a cry and a yell.

Auston can tell me not to look as many times as he wants to, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did look.

I saw everything.

My stomach is a tumultuous mixture of dread and fear, as each breath saws out of me. What little I ate last night threatens to expel.

“What the fuck?” Preston breathes.

I close my eyes, but that makes no difference. The air is already contaminated by a dead girl’s silent screams.

Chapter 12

Hadley

Afterlife 101 - The Fundamentals

The fissures on her skin, like a shattered porcelain doll. The black, tar-like blood seeping—no, oozing—from an opened wound in her head. Empty eye sockets with residual ash.

“Hadley. Hadley! Are you listening?” Mrs. Myle shouts, lips pursed as if she’s eaten something sour. Her hands are resting—hovering?—over her translucent hips. If her irritated expression is anything to go by, this isn’t the first time she tried to get my attention.

Layla stares at me sympathetically, but even she isn’t aware of the reason for my inner turmoil.

I’ve never been good at compartmentalizing my pain, preferring to externalize something internal. Being sick had taught me the value of life, but before that? Pain was easier to understand than confusion. The constant swarm of questions all sick kids have—why me? Why now? The trivial bullshit of one doctor saying something and another immediately contradicting it. So, yeah, I relied on pain, some of it by my own hand. It was easier that way.

My fingernails dig into my palms, creating tiny crescent-shaped indents, but I relax my fist away before they can draw blood.

The scars marring the backs of my thighs are a testament to that pain, that agony, that emptiness. Being dead hasn’t eliminated those scars. I wonder if it’s because they’re a part of me, a part of my story. Without them, I wouldn’t be the Hadley I am today.

Seeing that girl...

All of those feelings bubble to the surface until I’m choking on them, drowning beneath their seductive pulls. It feels as if I’m tumbling through an insatiable undertow, never able to breach that pocket of fresh air.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I ask, my voice meek.

Mrs. Myle’s face pinches, but she concedes with a bob of her head. “I asked if you knew what happened to the souls not chosen for Afterworld Academy.”

Obviously, they go to Heaven or Hell, but that isn’t what comes out of my mouth. Instead, I ask a question I want to know the answer to.

“Can souls die even though they’re already dead?” I counter.

Cracks snaking down her arms...

Mrs. Myle physically recoils, surprised by my impromptu question. Her face drains of all color.

“What do you mean?” Her strident voice quivers, though I can’t discern if that’s from fear or shock.

“Is it true that when souls die they cease to exist? They go to the abyss?” I continue. Layla looks green beside me, and even Aggie looks slightly unsettled.

Charred eye sockets, as if her eyes were burned out of her head...

“That’s true,” Mrs. Myle answers at last. She straightens to her full height, smoothing down the long skirts cascading around her.

“And how can you kill a soul?” My line of questioning is putting the class on edge, their unease almost palpable in the air. The usual whispers and fidgeting have diminished.

Mrs. Myle clears her throat. “The same way you can kill a human. The Afterlife is sort of like a second life. And if you die in this one, you die for good. To put it simply—if your soul dies, your essence dies.”

“Ceases to exist,” I correct, voice cracking. “You cease to exist.”

Mrs. Myle swallows audibly.

“That’s correct.”

“So souls can be murdered?” That innocuous question has the entire class leaning forward with bated breath.

“As with mankind, there are facets of good and evil. But the Fates have a reason for everything they do. Sometimes, however, accidents can happen. Say...someone falling off a bridge.” She levels me with a pointed look. “Horrible accident. But not something that could happen regularly. Do you understand?”

The tension I didn’t even know I was carrying leaves my body. My shoulders, which had been up to my ears, droop as Mrs. Myle lifts the burden I was carrying.

One would think I would be desensitized to death and its connotations. I am, in a way. At the same time, it’s difficult for me to comprehend oblivion. Nothingness. How can someone just cease to exist? Ceasing to breathe, I can understand. And honestly, I’m somewhat okay with it. Humans have expiration dates, simple as that. But seeing a soul die? The hideousness that marks them in death? It’s not something I can wrap my head around, causing my thoughts to somersault.

Am I relieved to know it was an accident?

Of course.

Does that eradicate the images assaulting my mind?

Not at all.

* * *

Combat Training

Master likes kicking my ass.

Okay, so it’s not technically him kicking my ass, but he might as well have been. The Dearly Departed pitted against me—named Angel, ironically enough—practiced mixed martial arts when she was still alive.

Yup, you heard me right. The poor little cancer girl is forced to fight a two-hundred pound, pure muscled woman, who spent her life perfecting the art of ass kicking.

And Master?

He’s huddled in the corner sipping chocolate milk from a bendy straw and cackling malevolently while his black wings flutter around him. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be intimidated by him...or if I’m supposed to start laughing. But then he glares at me over the rim of his glass, and I realize laughing would lead to pain. Lots and lots of pain.

After the fifth takedown—I’m getting well acquainted with the mat—I gasp out, “I quit! Take me to Heaven or wherever I’m supposed to go.”

“You can’t quit!” Master sneers down at me, moving from his customary spot in the corner. He always wears that expression with me. Sort of a combination of him having to take a shit and him eating shit.

Angel moves off of me and extends a hand. I eye the proffered limb warily...before grabbing it and attempting to take her down with me.

Of course, it backfires, and I’m left with an Angel-sized footprint on my stomach.

“You’re pathetic,” Master points out dutifully.

No shit.

“Don’t worry, little Dearly Departed. By the end of your first year, you’re going to be murdering people like the best of them.” He smiles at me so sincerely, so enigmatically, that I can’t help but believe him.

“Great,” I respond weakly, nursing my injured shoulder. Angel glances at me with pity, wincing at the bruises I feel freckling my face, before she hurries over to a new partner.

“Shouldn’t you, you know, teach us stuff instead of watching us beat the crap out of each other?” I ask Master with feigned nonchalance.

“I need to test your skill level first. See what I’m working with. Frankly, Hadley, you look like a fucking Cabbage Patch Kid fighting Godzilla. Do you even know how to walk in a straight line, child? You’re worse than Preston, and that kid ran into more walls than anyone I have ever met...and that’s when we practiced outside.”

Despite my pissy mood, I snort. Sounds like Preston.

“Now, get back to work. I don’t want to see you fucking around.” His lips move awkwardly to reclaim his straw, seeming to forget he has hands. All the while, he’s glaring at me with an almost incandescent fury.

Fuming, I turn on my heel to face my new opponent.

A seven-foot tall man who looks like the center for a football team.

“Fuck,” I grouse.

At least when I’m getting my ass handed to me, I can forget that a girl’s dead.

* * *

History of the Afterlife

“I have a thing for men choking me,” Aggie comments, as I heave myself into an empty chair. Layla eyes me up and down, her eyes widening.

“Holy shit, Hadley. What happened?”

“Combat class,” I respond lifelessly, emotionally and physically drained

Frankly, that’s answer enough in my mind. Layla glances at me sympathetically, patting my hand, but Aggie simply raises a white eyebrow.

“And were you choked?” she inquires with mischief in her eyes.

“What the fuck? No!”

“Shame.” She tsks, turning back towards the front of the classroom. The teacher hasn’t arrived, and the class is still rowdy. I take a desk to the right of Layla, who sits with Aggie on her left.

My body is a canvas of bruises and scrapes, with pain reverberating through every pore. Layla and Aggie had both fared better than me, neither of them bruised.

Layla actually looks refreshed. She has pink coloring her cheeks, and her hair glows with a healthy sheen. The bitch had loved combat class, besting even Angel. Honestly, I’m not surprised she didn’t know how badly I got my ass whooped. She was too focused on her own fights and had left with Aggie immediately after class, while I opted to take a long, blistering hot shower. But damn, if it doesn’t make me self-conscious to lose to every single person I fought.

As if she knows what I’m thinking, Layla tentatively offers, “I can tutor you.”

“I might have to take you up on that. If you don’t, like, kill me. Again.”

“Speaking of killing...” Aggie butts in, once more engaged in our conversation. The woman has an attention span that would rival even a dog’s. “What the hell was that this morning?”

Any humor drains from my body.

“It’s nothing,” I say too quickly.

“It didn’t seem like nothing.”

“Drop it, okay?” My voice comes out unintentionally scathing. Bitter. Even Layla, not the target of my anger, blanches.

Aggie’s face is carefully impassive, but her lips pull back from her teeth.

“Fine.”

I want to apologize instantly, but my thoughts are chaotic, bouncing from one to another.

I remember back in middle school when one of the students committed suicide. She was an athlete, a volleyball player, and a year older than me. I hadn’t even known she existed until the assembly the day after her death. I hadn’t mourned her then, hadn’t felt like my world was spinning off its axis.

Why is this different? Why does it feel like I’ve been innately changed, and not necessarily for the better?

I feel like my feet are no longer cemented to dry ground. Gravity has been suspended, and I’m floating, floating, floating. The disembodied sensation threatens to expunge the contents of my stomach.

Is it because I’ve seen the body myself?

No, that doesn’t seem right. I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies at the hospital. As a teenager in the cancer ward, people came and went before I could orient myself. Friends, enemies, acquaintances. They were all there one second and gone the next.

Maybe it’s the finality of the dead soul’s life. She won’t be finding peace, won’t be heading to a better place. She just...stopped.

Stopped existing.

Stopped living.

Stopped being.

The thought unravels me, a thread held loosely between thin fingers just waiting to be tugged.

As our Reaper professor enters the classroom and instructs us to turn to page 147 in our textbooks, I finally uncover what terrifies me the most:

Being forgotten.

* * *

Demonology and Angelology

“Angels and Demons are not based on how dark your soul is,” Dominic states, pacing the front of the classroom.

Unlike the other classes, we aren’t sitting in chairs, instead resting on pillows in a makeshift semi-circle. It’s supposed to increase communication and conversation.

Frankly, it makes me want to nap.

Though I won’t lie and say the lecture isn’t interesting.

And it doesn’t hurt that Mr. Thumb—or Dominic, as he asked to be called—is sex on a stick gorgeous. He’s a Demon, with spidery wings emerging from his back and a shock of dark hair. His smoothly tanned skin, copper almost, is devoid of any blemishes except for a scar running through his lips.

I’m not the only girl ogling.

Aggie is literally panting like a bitch in heat. Only Layla seems unperturbed, faithful to the man she loves, even in death.

“As you may have guessed, Demons are more prone to violence, but that doesn’t make them evil. Just as not all Angels are good. Angels are cockier than any of the divisions, always placing themselves on a pedestal.

“As their duty dictates, Demons are sent to both Hell and Earth to capture and kill—if necessary—escaped creatures. Hellhounds, for one. They’re forged from Hell’s fire for reasons unbeknownst to us. A natural phenomena, like a baby being born. Other monsters include rogue demons and Afterworld creatures that have had their souls tarnished,” he explains matter-of-factly, almost as if he’s reciting something he read from a textbook.

“Tarnished?” a woman in her mid-thirties echoes primly from the front of the room. She, of course, chose the seat closest to Dom and is batting her abnormally long lashes at him.

“There are monsters out there you’re not ready to learn about,” Dominic supplies gravely. “When this monster grabs a hold of a soul, whether that’s Angel or Reaper or Demon or Ghost, it changes them. Turns them into monsters that give even me nightmares.”

Almost absently, he scrubs a hand over his scarred lip, and I wonder if said monster disfigured his face.

Clearing his throat, Dominic continues, “Angels can either be Guardian Angels or normal ones who work in Heaven as guides and housekeepers, so to speak. There is no guarantee you’ll become a Guardian. Think of it as a...promotion. The Fates allow some to be Guardians and others to be normal Angels. Some are even granted Guardianship before graduation.”

“What’s the difference?” Aggie asks.

Despite Dominic’s goal to initiate conversation, it feels as if he’s talking down to us. Him standing and us on the floor?

I don’t like it.

Even if it’s a prime napping position.

“Guardian Angels are sent to Earth, usually to watch after a charge or charges. Normal Angels are sent straight to Heaven to help keep order.”

“So, does that mean you get to work with God?” a teenaged, mousy girl queries.

Dominic’s smile widens, a flash of perfectly white teeth.

Why does everyone in the Afterlife have to be so attractive? Is that a requirement to join? Must be this sexy to enter type of thing?

Ignoring her question, Dominic turns back towards his leather-bound notebook. It serves as our textbook, having been written by the original Demon and Angel pair millions—billions?—of years ago.

A long fucking ass time.

The Afterworld preserves books pretty damn well, if I do say so myself.

“Forget everything you know,” he advises. “Go in with fresh eyes, and I might be able to teach you something.”

* * *

Reapers

It’s in my second to last class of the day when things get interesting.

Well…

More interesting than dead souls, flying lessons, and sexy men.

An older Reaper stands at the front of the class behind a podium. He must be in his late seventies, balding and chubby, with dark beady eyes and age spots dotting his face. Mr. Buttox—no joke, real name—is droning on about how Reapers guide souls to the Afterlife when the door is pushed open and an Angel enters, her white hair cascading down her back in soft waves and heels clicking.

Ignoring the class, the twenty-something Angel produces a piece of paper and hands it to Buttox. His brows furrow as he reads what’s written before he glances up and locks eyes with me.

“Hadley, if you’ll follow Amelia, please.” He nods towards the gorgeous Angel who glowers at me like I’m shit she stepped on. Frowning, I reluctantly stand and pack my bag.

“Where am I going?”

“It seems as if Administer wishes to speak with you.”

The look he gives me?

If I wasn’t already dead, I would be very, very soon.

Chapter 13

KARSTON

The memory of the dead soul’s body crashing against the side of the deep ravine while it floated on top of the blue water plays in my head over and over again. She was the first dead soul I’ve come across since arriving in the Afterlife. A deep sickness had invaded my stomach, churning inside me, threatening to expel the meager contents from the snack I had earlier in the day.

Still, I hovered closer, the water flowing just under my invisible body. Her skin was cracked and gray, as if all the color was drawn from her soulless corpse, like the photos you might have seen in an old newspaper. Her eyes were the most eerie thing about her appearance. They were missing, like someone had burned them right out of her face.

Even as a Ghost, this shit was still scary. We get a bad rep, us Ghosts, but we don’t really go around haunting and scaring people. We can, don’t get me wrong, but we have a higher purpose.

Just when I thought I couldn’t look at her for another moment without screaming, I glanced up to the bridge and saw her for the first time in the Afterlife, my Hadley. Her face looked so haunted, terrified even. The color drained from her pink cheeks when she spotted the dead girl. To my horror, Auston and Preston were there to comfort her.

Stupid fucks, with their paws on my girl.

Fuck that.

I hadn’t planned on making myself known to Hadley until it was revealed that I was her Ghost mentor, but I might not want to sit idly by anymore knowing they had her as well.

My stomach twisted when Preston wrapped his arm around her, when Auston brought her face into his broad chest. That should’ve been me with her. Me! Not them. They are undeserving of someone like her.

As they hauled her off, her body shaking, I focused on slowing my breathing. Once I present myself to her, they will be yesterday’s news.

My Hadley.

Sweet, sweet Hadley.

On Earth she was my favorite haunt. I didn’t know why, but I was drawn to her, as if she had a darkness to rival my own. Since I’d become a Ghost two years ago, I’d been watching her. I saw when she graduated from her online high school. I watched when she took two frat boys home with her and had her way with them.

I watched her in the shower, cleaning her perfect body with soapy hands, touching all her intimate parts.

I know how beautiful she looks when she reaches her climax, the color of her nipples, the flush that creeps up her skin in her ecstasy.

It was me who was floating nearby the day she got her cancer diagnosis. I felt as though I almost died again that day.

Not her.

Not my Hadley.

I allowed myself to pass under the bridge and watched her all day during her classes. I passed a few other Ghosts along the way, also translucent, just like me. As a Ghost, I can see others who have made themselves invisible and they can also see me. Except for when we’re on Earth. I couldn’t see my brothers...the brothers I only just realized had also been with Hadley when I was. We’re kinda loners, us Ghosts, voyeurs, preferring to watch than to actually be involved. We can’t hide from each other on this plane, something I’m trying to work around.

I don’t want anybody to see me.

No one.

Except her.

Hadley suffered a lot today. Master let that Angel bitch fucking lay into her. My girl didn’t stand a chance. She’s no fighter, not in the traditional way at least. The way he teaches his classes is rudimentary. No one learns by having their asses handed to them.

I was so grateful when her second to last class ended up having Mr. Buttox as her professor. There’s not a bone in his body that isn’t boring.

I let out a deep sigh, pushing down the memories of the day, and float about the class absently, watching others’ reaction to my Hadley and her friend, Layla. Even the women in the class seem to be drawn to them.

That could be a fun night.

My fingers dig into my palms when cuntface Amelia waltzes in like she owns the fucking place and summons Hadley to the Administer’s office.

The Administer!

What the fuck could that cock face want with her?

This is bad news. Really bad.

I head her off, floating through the walls of the Academy and making my way over the river to the Administer’s office. Sitting behind his large desk, Administer glares at Miss Celeste as she throws her arms about wildly, her high-pitched voice screeching in my ears.

Stefan, Dominic, and Professor Malcom—who teaches the third year Demon students—watch in silence, shaking their heads.

“Malcom, do you have any idea what caused her death?” Celeste asks frantically, her shrill voice bouncing off the walls. “It must be your fault. Your-your Demons are failing to corral the Darkness and its underlings.”

“Whoa there, Angelface, this has nothing to do with us. Have you actually seen her body? I mean, really seen her?” Malcom defends. Like most Demons, Malcom has large, silky black wings hanging off his back and sharp horns protruding from his head.

Celeste blanches and almost imperceptibly shakes her head.

“I didn’t think so. Well, guess what? I did. Stefan, Dominic, and I studied her. Every… fractured… bit. There’s not a mark to be found. Not a claw wound or a tooth bite. Other than her eyes being burned from her skull, there were no missing organs or torn clothing. The victim appears in perfect condition.”

“You mean, besides the fact that she’s stuck in the void forever?” Celeste cuts in, crossing her arms under her chest. “Just because there’s no evidence doesn’t mean the Darkness hasn’t returned. The body looks exactly the same as it did one hundred ye—”

“Enough, Celeste,” Administer interjects. “We all know what you think, and frankly, I shouldn’t even have brought you in on this conversation.” Administer massages his temples with his hands while Celeste bristles, quite literally ruffling her feathers. “The Darkness should still be rotting in hell. There’s no way it could've gotten onto my campus without my knowledge,” he bites out.

Celeste pales. “But, Administer. Surely you can’t deny the similarities that—”

“I said enough!” Administer shouts, slamming his fists down in front of him. He takes a deep, controlled breath and lets it out slowly. “The Dearly Departed who saw the last victim will be here any minute. I need you to maintain control of yourself, or I’ll ask you to leave this office. Do you understand?”

She rolls her eyes, but shuts her big mouth and takes a seat. I have a moment of panic when Administer sets his icy green eyes on me, and I look down to ensure I’m still maintaining invisibility. I release a breath when he glances away and locks his eyes on the door.

Malcom and Dominic sit on one side of him, Stefan and Celeste on the other. Administer steeples his hands on raised elbows and clears his throat. The faint clanking of heeled shoes reaches my ears a few moments before a soft knock sounds on the door.

“Come in,” Administer barks.

Amelia peeks her blonde head in, her eyes widening when she sees the very formal setup. It’s like a bloody inquisition. Her gaze lands on Malcom, and an emotion flashes across her face, but it’s gone before I can decide what it was. Keeping her eyes on him, she throws her hair behind her shoulders and saunters into the room.

The door slams shut behind her before Hadley can even enter. Blushing, Amelia turns and pulls the door back open and ushers her inside. Hadley’s face pales when she sees the panel before her. Fuck, I probably would too, and that’s saying something. You know. Since I’m a fucking Ghost.

Stefan brings out a sixth chair and sets it before Administer’s desk.

“Why, thank you, Stefan,” Amelia croons, before tucking her skirt under her ass and sitting down.

“That’s not for you,” Administer declares. “Amelia, you are dismissed. Hadley,” he gestures towards the chair and a blushing Amelia, “would you please take a seat?”

Amelia huffs and stands before storming out of the office, giving Hadley the stink eye the entire time.

Interesting.

Taking the now vacant seat, Hadley sits and crosses her muscled legs. Those little knee high stockings accentuating her calves. I wonder what kind of panties she’s wearing today. I bet it’s a thong. Black lace hugging her skin in all the right places. It was always her favorite pair to wear with a skirt on Earth.

Fuck, I’m getting a boner.

Thankfully, there are no other Ghosts in here. My boner shall remain a secret.

“Hadley, do you know why you have been called here this evening?”

She gulps and licks her lips. Her perfectly pink and pouty lips. Probably coated with strawberry lip gloss.

“I might have an idea.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with that floating dead girl… undead dead girl? Newly dead, dead girl?” She cups her chin in thought. “Recently dead, undead girl. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Administer scowls at her, but she brushes it off. This is how she always copes with things that make her uncomfortable. She jokes about it as if humor makes it less real.

“Twice baked dead girl?”

“Hadley, did you or did you not see a girl floating in the river?” Administer asks, ignoring her jests.

“I did. Preston, Auston, and I saw her. Why don’t you invite them to this little get-together you’re having? Oh! Are there appetizers? Refreshments? ‘Cause I could sure use—”

“Enough!” Administer slams his hands down onto his desk. The smile melts from Hadley’s face as she grips the underside of her chair with white knuckles.

“We know you saw her, Hadley, and we are very sorry you did. But we must know, did you notice anything significant when you came upon the body? Anything unusual that might have seemed out of place?”

She bites her lower lip in thought and plays with the hem of her skirt.

“No, nothing, other than the fact that she didn’t look like a normal dead—undead—whatever kind of person. Her face… it—it was gray and cracked, like she was made of ceramic or something.”

She tucks her hair behind her ears and continues, “And her eyes, they—they were missing, and the vacant holes where they should’ve been were charred. Burned. It was horrible.” She shudders when she finishes.

“Anything else? Can you give us a rundown of everything you did leading up to finding the body?”

Hadley takes a deep breath and wipes her hands on her skirt, but I leave before she begins. I can’t stand watching her squirm under their stares. It’s like they are holding her accountable for something she clearly didn’t do.

It makes me uncomfortable.

Gliding through the nearest wall, I make my way through the forest, back over Veritas bridge, and head over to the Academy.

I enter the Premonition classroom, now empty. Crystal balls and tarot cards line the walls. The desks are set up in a circle so everyone can feel included.

Barf.

But that’s not why I’m here.

Heading over to the fireplace, I slip inside and lower myself through the grated floor. I only found the room below a few days ago, one of the many I’ve come across while exploring the Academy. Unlike most walls, there are some in the Academy I can’t pass through. So I’ve made it my own little game, my own mission, to chart where I can and can’t go. I plan on making a map of sorts, like the Marauders once did.

Exiting the mouth of an antechamber, I enter into a larger one. The ceilings are surprisingly high here. An eerie, greenish glow lights up the space, but I can’t figure out where it’s coming from. Stretching out before me is a labyrinth of winding passageways and dead ends.

Some corridors end in doors I can’t open, others lead into darkened spaces or simply stop, forcing me to turn around. I don’t know why, but I know this place is significant. I feel it in my bones...well, my essence since I no longer have bones...and my spidey sense coming alive.

If only I had someone to explore it with.

Chapter 14

Braxton

Leaving Malcom’s classroom has me on fucking edge. He’s ominous on a good day. But today? Well, let’s just say that something has really spooked him. His appearance is ruffled when I leave his class, hair standing at strange angles from all the times he’d raked his fingers through it.

“Be careful out there, and mind yourself in Hell,” he’d told me. Like I fuck around when I’m in Hell, as if I want to be there longer than I have to be.

I might be a Demon, but that doesn’t mean I have no fear of the creatures that lurk in the fires of Hell. Only a fool has no fear, going about his days thinking the world fits in his palm.

I am no fool.

Malcom even muttered something about the Darkness under his breath. But I have no idea what he’s going on about. Of course it’s dark in Hell, it’s fucking under the Earth.

But I’ll take his cryptic warning to heart.

Malcom is one of the fiercest, most dangerous souls in the Afterlife, and if he thinks I need to be more careful, then I damn well better listen.

Walking through the halls of the Academy this late at night gives me an eerie feeling. Ancient tapestries hang from the walls depicting strange creatures and former headmasters. Their dormant eyes seem to follow me as I walk by. My footsteps reverberate down the stone hall, even as I try to tread lightly. The echoes are tricking my mind, making me think that someone—or something—is following me.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles, and my body erupts in goosebumps.

Something is here. I know it.

My intuition is never wrong.

Stretching out my right arm, I summon my sword. It manifests quickly, and I grip the leather hilt in my palm. I give my weapon a twirl then spin around, the sharp edge aiming at my stalker.

To my surprise, nothing is there… at first.

A figure begins to shimmer, revealing a body where there was only air a second before.

A Ghost.

Sneaky little fucks.

A familiar head full of light blonde, ear-length hair morphs into view. Mischievous bright green eyes and a smug grin soon follow.

Karston.

Of course it's him.

“What do you want, and why are you following me?” I sneer at him. It’s hard to believe that only a few years ago we were so close.

“Oh… You know. I was just floating around, looking for someone to torment, and saw your bitch ass walk by and I thought, ‘Hey! Brax always was a prat. Let me see if I can still get under his skin.’”

“Mission accomplished. Just the sight of you makes my skin crawl.”

His smirk grows wider, and he glides over to me. He opens his mouth to say something when voices trickle down the hall. Karston’s green eyes widen before he shimmers back out of view.

It’s Malcom. And he’s with the headmaster, Stefan.

I hustle into a nearby room and inch the door closed. Their muffled voices filter in from under it.

“Yes, but what should we do about the girl?” Malcom inquires.

“Well, if it’s anything like last time, then all we can do is wait,” Stefan responds. “If the Darkness is found and thrown back into Hell, the soul’s essence should make its way back to the soul and reanimate it.”

So that’s the darkness Malcom was mumbling about before...

“How did you find it when it happened last time?” Malcom whispers.

Stefan sighs. “We didn’t. One day it was hiding amongst us, traveling from soul to soul. We think it was trying them out like clothing, looking for the best fit. Then one day, it was just gone.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Almost twenty years to the day…”

Stefan’s voice becomes too quiet to hear as they move farther away from me. Once I’m sure they’re gone, I nudge open the door and creep out into the hallway.

To my horror, Karston is still there, waiting for me.

“Well, that was interesting,” he mutters, scratching his head.

“Interesting is not the word I’d use to describe it, Kars. Didn’t you hear what they were saying?”

His ghostly face pales, even more so than it usually is.

Now that is interesting.

“You know something, don’t you?” I accuse, stalking towards him.

“Yes, actually. It’s the reason I came to find you. I thought… Well. I didn’t know who else to come to, so I thought you might want to know, seeing as you’re in Hell all the time.”

Well, that’s shocking. Since we’ve come to Afterworld Academy, Karston hasn’t looked for me, or even risked a glance in my direction. I might as well have been as invisible as he is.

“Come on,” he says, turning around. “There’s something you need to see.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Karston,” I growl, recalling my sword back into my forearm. “I’m not in the fucking mood.”

“When are you ever not in a mood? You know, if you keep making that frowny face, it’ll get stuck like that forever.”

I huff and follow him. He winds through the empty halls, down a flight of stairs, and over to a statue of a Hellhound. Its sneering face gazes down on us, its stone eyes menacing.

“This is where you brought me? To a fucking statue? I’ve fought these things in real life; I don’t need to look at a stone version. I have more important things to do than this, so if you don’t mind…” I turn and stomp off, frustration oozing off of me.

“Brax, please.” The tone of his voice makes me pause. He’s not called me Brax in over two years, when we were Dearly Departeds ourselves. I stop in my tracks and turn back to him, crossing my arms over my chest.

He points to the alcove behind the statue. “It’s back there.”

“What is?” I question, stalking behind the hound. “All I see are bricks and mortar. Nothing more.”

His grin spreads across his face once more. “That’s because you don’t know where to look. There are advantages to being a Ghost, Demon.”

Karston materializes and lands on the ground with ease. He grips his chin in thought then pushes on a brick near his head. To my surprise, the stone depresses and the wall slides into itself, revealing a darkened, arched tunnel.

“Wait here,” he whispers before dematerializing.

I decide to count to sixty. Even though I’m intrigued, if he’s not back in a minute, I’m leaving.

I jump when he whisper-shouts, “Coast is clear,” into my ear.

“What the fuck!” I yell, pushing against his chest. Except he’s not fully materialized, and my hands go through him, making me stumble forward and him laugh even harder. I spin to face him, once again glaring. “Don’t do that shit. You know I don’t like being snuck up on.”

He chuckles, winks, and walks down the tunnel.

I grumble but head off after him. The ceiling is low here, and the top of my wings bash into it when I walk. I hold out my palm and call on my fire, wanting to light the dark space. My flames dances off the walls, calming me, as we come upon a wooden door.

It appears old. Metal filigree decorates it in the crest of the Afterworld Academy, and the number three sits in the middle.

I don’t have time to think on it as Karston turns the handle and pushes the door open. I follow him inside as artificial lights flicker on overhead, revealing a very modern room.

“What is this place?” I ask him, looking around. It feels medical in a medieval sort of way. Gurneys are lined up around the perimeter, and open shelving displays dust covered bottles filled with strange liquids. Dozens of unfamiliar smells assault my nose. I see movement out of the corner of my eye and look over to see a wall full of cages, each holding a venomous creature.

Snakes, frogs, spiders… You name it. Each one follows me, their bodies ready to attack as I walk by.

“It’s a holding area of sorts,” he tells me.

I pass by the creatures, following Karston who’s heading towards an adjoining door. “Why the hell do they have a room full of poisonous creatures—” My words are cut off as we stop in a smaller room, my dead heart stuttering in my chest.

A dozen gurneys lie vacant, sprawled across the room and along the right wall are a series of drawers. My guess is cryo drawers to house the dead. But that’s not what stops my heart…

A young girl, no older than fourteen, lays on a gurney. But she doesn’t appear normal. Her skin is grayed and cracked like a long forgotten old doll. But that’s not what chokes me. It’s her eyes, or lack thereof. Scorched holes remain where her eyes should be. As if they were burned right out of her face.

It’s unnerving, to say the least.

“What happened to her?” I whisper, my voice getting caught in my throat.

“The Darkness,” Karston replies. And for once, there’s no humor in his words.

“So this is what Malcom and the headmaster were speaking of?”

“Mmhmm. So far this is the only victim, but I won’t be surprised if more show up. I’ve been creeping around. Listening to whispered conversations. Poor Hadley got crucified ju—”

“Hadley?” I interrupt. Surely it can’t be the same girl, the one I used to watch from the dark corners on Earth. The one I saw speaking to that dumbass Jake the other day. I was both horrified and elated when our eyes locked, but I was too distracted at the time to consider the ramifications of her being here. I’ll admit, the sight of her with that pompous Angel sent me reeling. I immediately turned to the Demon girl beside me, Natasha, and whispered, “Laugh like I said something funny.”

And when Hadley’s eyes widened with jealousy?

I didn’t know if I wanted to feel guilty...or relieved.

“Yeah. She’s—umm…”

“She’s what?”

A flush creeps up his pale skin, his cheeks reddening as he rubs the back of his neck.

“You like her, don’t you?” I accuse. “This Hadley. She means something to you.”

Fucking great. The one girl I want him to stay as far away from as possible is the one he’s got his eye on.

He sighs and raises his green gaze up to meet mine. An emotion I’m all too familiar with passes over them, but he stifles it behind a yawn.

“Gosh, look at the time.” Karston feigns looking at the nonexistent watch on his wrist. “This Ghost needs his beauty rest.”

He shimmers and walks through the nearest wall.

“Karston!” I shout, running into the previous room. “Karston, get back here!”

“Chill out, Demon.” Little fucker manifests in the tunnel with a smug grin on his face. “Just testing your reaction time. To be honest, you’re getting a little slow.” He taps his wrist, and I clench my fingers, my teeth gnashing against one another. I’d strangle him, but he’d disappear before my hands could wrap around his throat.

“There’s that scowl! I’d forgotten how much I missed it! Your complacency is so boring.” He holds the door open for me, and I stalk past him, once again calling my fires to light the way in the dark tunnel.

As the tail of the Hellhound becomes visible, I slow and glance around its hulking form, ensuring we’re alone. Karston slides up behind me and fiddles with something, which causes the wall to slide back into place as if it had never moved.

“How many more places like this exist?” I ask him, my curiosity outweighing my extreme dislike for him. “I mean, hidden ones. Are there more?”

“Loads.” He forks his fingers through his blond hair. “I discovered a new place just last week in the Premonition classroom. This one is like a riddle I can’t solve, a puzzle I don’t have all the pieces for, and you know how much I love puzzles.”

I nod my head, my mind reeling.

“Catcha ya later, Demon,” Karston calls as he fizzles out of sight, leaving me all alone with the snarling statue. I bring my fingers up to massage my temples, my head spinning.

Hidden rooms, victims of the Darkness, and Hadley.

My future seems more uncertain than ever, and the fate of the Afterworld hangs in the balance.

Chapter 15

Hadley

My breathing was shallow, breaths stuttering in and out. Sawing. Wheezing. The sound one would expect in a horror movie, as the life drains from the girl.

Everything ached. My arms were leaden, flushed against the scratchy white sheets. One second I was hot, blistering, and the next I was encased in an icy blanket.

When they say your life flashes before your eyes, they meant it.

Behind my closed eyelids, I saw my mom’s tearstained face. My dad’s apathetic expression as he stared down at my body. Ocean’s glimmering blue eyes, the source of her namesake. They had arrived after death already claimed me. Too late to say their goodbyes. Honestly, I feel more upset for them than I do for myself. Goodbyes are for the living, and I can’t imagine not being able to say mine.

And then I saw nothing, swept away in an abyss of darkness like one would get swept away in an ocean.

Darkness everywhere, inky tentacles slithering towards me.

“Hello?” I called, voice hoarse. From screaming? Crying? Death? I couldn’t decide.

Something brushed against the back of my bare thighs, and I jumped, spinning wildly. My heart hammered in my chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. It bordered that precarious line between fear and excitement.

For some indefinable reason, I felt comforted by that touch.

At the same time, I was terrified.

I turned wildly but was unable to see anything. Darkness. Darkness everywhere.

Pressing in on either side of me like a shrinking room. Surrounding me. Consuming me. Drowning me.

A scream bubbled out of my mouth...

* * *

I wake up in a cold sweat. My hair is matted to my forehead and the back of my neck, and I shove the slick strands away impatiently.

A nightmare.

Again.

In the bed next to mine, Aggie sleeps blissfully unaware. She’s naked, of course, and I look away before I unintentionally get an eyeful. There’s only so many times I can see her saggy boobs before I need to bleach my eyes.

Muscles stiff, I sit up in bed and stretch my arms above my head. The week has been mercifully uneventful. No dead bodies. No cracked skin, burnt out eyes, and broken limbs. No suspicious stares from fellow students and hushed whispers by professors.

Just me and my classes.

And flight training.

Every morning, I meet up with Preston and Auston. I still have yet to use my wings to carry me higher than a few feet. The one time I held myself off the ground for more than two seconds, I ended up with a scraped knee and a sprained ankle.

Today, I’m training to become a Reaper.

It’s the start of our official mentorship, and apparently, I’ll follow Preston as he collects souls...or whatever the hell he does. Honestly, I zoned out during that part of the lesson.

Slipping out of bed, I move on quiet feet to my closet. The last thing I want to wear is the required school uniform, but I don’t have a choice. Conformity, my friends, at its finest.

I pull on the too short skirt, form-fitting blouse, socks that go up to my knees, and my Mary Jane shoes. Running a brush through my dark blonde hair, I braid it away from my face.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I try to decide if I look like a Reaper. They all have similar characteristics—skinny but lightly muscled, dark hair, and an affinity for dark clothes.

Me? I’m no pink lover, but I prefer colors over black. The only black I wore was a black sweatshirt Ocean bought me for my birthday that read, “Book Boyfriends are Better than Real Boyfriends.”

Honestly, I would make a pretty shitty Reaper. Can a soul get lost on their way to Heaven or Hell? Is that a thing? Because I can guarantee that would happen to me.

“Oh, you meant to take that soul to Heaven? Wrong place. This is Hell. Don’t you see the fires?”

Directionally challenged doesn’t even begin to describe me.

And would I have to be a people person to escort a soul? I don’t have the patience for that. Or the compassion.

Aggie mutters something in her sleep, effectively jarring me from my thoughts. I’m pretty sure she says, “Romeo, lick my muffin.”

With a sigh, I head to the dining hall.

I’m the only soul in the cafeteria at this hour, no surprise. No one is willing to sacrifice an hour of oblivion for something you don’t really need.

Still, I pile my plate high with French toast and add a bowl of oatmeal, dousing both in cinnamon and syrup. I find a table near the back and settle in with my treats, my dream replaying on a loop in my mind.

It isn’t the first time I dreamt of death in its finality, and it won’t be my last. My own death reverberates on repeat in my head...which, of course, evokes images of the girl in the river.

Is that what happens to a soul once they die?

The darkness?

The emptiness?

My stomach churns uncomfortably.

“What is a pretty girl like you doing all by yourself?” a husky voice asks in my ear. I startle, spinning around. If I was still alive, the man would’ve given me a heart attack.

“Fuck,” I curse, placing my hand over my heart. Well, where my heart is. I’m not actually sure if I have a heart in this new soul body. Sure, I feel something beating, but I’m positive the anatomy of a soul is different from a human’s.

I’m told a soul has an essence that makes them who they are. Basically, an essence is the soul of a soul. Trippy shit, am I right?

The new guy has blond hair, an impish grin, and is dressed in slacks and a jacket. I recognize him immediately...or, at the very least, a version of him.

“Do you have brothers?” I blurt out. Preston has the customary dark hair of all Reapers, while Auston has white hair, but all three men have the same facial structure and toned bodies. White blond locks highlight the azure shade of his eyes. He’s more muscular than Preston, but not as bulky as Auston. He even sort of looks like that one Demon...

At my question, his face falls before he quickly replaces it with a semi-cocky smirk.

“We don’t talk about those assholes,” he says quickly. Dismissively. It’s the same hostility I see between Preston and Auston.

The distance between them, the animosity, goes beyond sibling rivalry.

“In answer to your previous question,” I begin, redirecting the conversation. “I woke up early and decided to get some food before my first mentorship.”

“And Preston is your Reaper mentor?” he inquires, his lips curling into a sneer. Before I can comment, an exuberant smile crosses his face. He’s handsome normally, but when he smiles like that, he turns glorious. I momentarily forget how to speak, entranced by that smile. “A girl as beautiful as you shouldn’t be by yourself. Allow me to offer my services.”

“Does that line normally work for you?” I tease.

He chuckles, a deeply seductive sound. Goosebumps erupt on my arms, and my chest flushes. These brothers are going to be the second death of me.

He leans farther forward. “Are you from Russia? Because you’re making my blood rusha.”

“Oh my gosh. Stop. That’s so fucking cheesy,” I reply, swatting at his arm. His translucent arm. It’s only then that I notice his whole body seems to shimmer as if he’s coated in a glittery sheen.

A Ghost.

I expect my hand to pass through him, so I’m stunned when I touch solid skin. It’s smooth beneath my hand, unblemished. Unscarred.

I remember how Mrs. Myle’s Ghost body showed how she died—her form a constant reminder of that trauma. But Ghost dude?

Nothing. Did he die of disease? Would it be rude of me to ask?

“I’m Karston,” he says, ripping me out of my thoughts. He extends a hand, and I shake it.

“Hadley,” I respond. His smile grows, emanating from his eyes, and I smile instinctively in response. He’s gorgeous. If this is what the brothers looked like when they were alive, vaginas everywhere would’ve been hurting. My vagina? It’s flashing a neon sign announcing it as “Open For Business” and there’s a revolving door to allow all these men entrance.

Yeah, my vagina is kind of a thirsty hussy.

“So, is there a reason why all of your brothers stalk me?” I ask teasingly, and his eyes flash in alarm. He schools his features before I can question the strange reaction.

“Stalk?” he repeats nonchalantly. Another blinding smile is flashed in my direction. At this point, I need a pair of sunglasses. How can teeth be that white and shiny? How can hair be that golden? How can one male be that beautiful?

“Stalk. Follow. Stand in front of my window wearing a clown mask.” I wave a hand dismissively. “Never mind. I’m just joking. I have a...weird sense of humor.”

He chuckles, the sound eliciting full body shivers. “I know.”

“You know?”

Once more, his smile falters. Just briefly. “I mean, I can tell. From this conversation. That’s what I meant. And in answer to your question, yes, I have three brothers. Preston, Braxton, and Auston. We’re quadruplets. But again, I don’t want to talk about them, especially with someone as gorgeous as you.” Another disarming smile. Another flirtatious wink that doesn’t deter me from the awkwardness of this conversation.

I can’t tell if Karston is the sexiest flirter I have ever met or the most awkward human being known to mankind. Maybe a combination of both? He’s sexdorable. Adorexy?

We sit in companionable silence as I scarf down my oatmeal and then my French toast. One highlight of being dead is eating as much as I fucking want and not worrying about it heading straight to my ass.

“Can I walk with you?” Karston asks after I finish. It should’ve felt weird to eat while he sipped what smelled like coffee, but it wasn’t. I felt innately comfortable with the Ghost, almost as if I knew him personally.

“I mean, a beautiful guy like yourself shouldn’t be walking alone,” I retort, parroting his words back to him with a wicked grin. He grins and extends his arm for me to link mine with his. “Don’t worry, Karston. I’ll protect you.”

He snorts, but allows me to lead him out of the dining hall and into a clearing behind the academic building.

The manicured grass is already teeming with both Dearly Departeds and third year Reapers.

My heart picks up speed at the sight before me.

All of the Reapers are wearing billowing black cloaks and hoods, the fabric obscuring their features from view. In their hands are scythes. The long, copper handle leads to a keen, curved blade shining silver in the burgeoning sunlight.

“This is where I’m leaving you,” Karston murmurs, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Don’t cry too hard, Beautiful. I know you’re going to miss me already.”

“How will I survive?” I drawl dramatically.

“Right? We only just met, Sweetheart. I might call your obsession with me stalkerish.”

“Stalkerish?” I turn towards him with an eyebrow raised mockingly. “Takes a stalker to know one.”

He cheeks turn crimson, and he quickly looks away. What the hell is that about?

“I need to go. See you later, Gorgeous.”

With a wave, he heads off in the direction of the academic building, while I walk into the clearing. I spot Layla and Aggie immediately, the former giving me a narrow-eyed stare.

“Who was that?” she inquires suspiciously.

“No one.” I don’t know why I lie. Honestly, I don’t. Maybe it’s because Layla is gorgeous, and I feel threatened. Or maybe it’s for reasons I can’t yet decode. Either way, I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot next to her.

“I would ride that boy like a one-cent pony ride at a supermarket,” Aggie whispers, staring off after Karston.

“What is wrong with you?” Layla questions very seriously. It’s a fair question, in all honesty. My theory? She was sex deprived when she was alive. Makes any sane girl horny as hell.

“Gather around, Dearly Departeds,” an older gentleman calls. He’s a professor for third-year Reapers, complete with receding hairline, dark skin, and the customary black cloak. “Today, you’re not first years. You aren’t merry souls. You’re Reapers.” His smile turns sardonic, mocking. A man on the inside of a joke. “And we’re going to teach you how to reap souls.”

Chapter 16

Hadley

We travel through a doorway.

A fucking doorway.

Honestly, I expected a portal glimmering like thousands of stars plucked straight from the sky. Am I asking too much?

Instead, we’re greeted by a nondescript door kept under lock and key inside the academic building. Dearly Departeds stand on one side of the two-person line, while the Reapers stand on the other.

Preston keeps making quips in an attempt to make me laugh. Honestly, if I have to hear one more awkward comparison between his scythe and his penis, followed by his nervous laughter, I’ll...probably jump him like a bitch in heat and pee on his leg.

Why my vagina wants to pee on him remains a mystery, but she’s always been a mysterious lady. She’s kinky like that.

And...

I need to stop thinking of my vagina as an entirely separate entity.

The professor drones on and on that the Dearly Departeds are not allowed to touch, only watch. And cue...

“That’s what she said,” Preston whispers in my ear, his hood brushing my cheek. Goosebumps erupt on my flesh when his warm breath heats my skin. I never had this reaction with a guy before. Sure, there’s been guys I liked and guys I’ve fucked, but never anyone like Preston. Never one that makes my heart pound erratically inside my chest until it feels like it’s seconds from breaking free.

He’s not the only one who makes me feel like that though. A certain white-haired Angel with penetrating eyes and high cheekbones—he who shall not be named or else my ovaries will go into overdrive—causes the same visceral reaction.

One by one, the pairs of Reapers and Dearly Departeds go through the door. My hands begin to shake, and I curl them into fists. I can’t tell if I’m anxious, excited, or a combination of the two.

Preston stealthily grabs my hand in his and squeezes. That reassuring, eloquent gesture says more than a thousand words ever could. I smile shyly up at him before staring down at our interlocked fingers.

In all honesty, Preston is everything I never wanted in a man. Don’t get me wrong. His awkwardness and clumsiness are adorable and endearing, but I assumed I would want a man with tattoos and jagged edges. The bad boy in need of taming. Preston doesn’t fit that mold, and yet I can’t deny the fluttering in my stomach like thousands of butterfly wings.

Finally, it’s our turn, and Preston reluctantly releases my hand. Or I reluctantly release his.

“Be back in six hours,” the professor instructs, glancing down at his clipboard as he crosses off our names.

The doorway, on closer inspection, is made of painted white wood with intricately carved decorations adorning the length. Through the opening, I see nothing but darkness.

A door in the middle of the room should’ve shown...well...the room beyond the frame.

Instead, this one only shows me a black hole. An abyss. A place you can get lost in and lose yourself.

My heels dig into the carpet, tiny warning bells going off in my head. Logically, I know this doorway will only take me to Earth, but I can’t help the pinpricks of fear that skate up my spine.

“It’s okay,” Preston whispers reassuringly. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

I glance inconspicuously over my shoulder and catch Layla’s eyes. She stands beside an older woman with a severe frown and peppered hair cascading down her shoulders. When she sees my fear, she winks and gives me a reassuring nod of her head.

Behind her, Aggie palms her tits. I’m not sure if she’s trying to comfort me or if she’s just being Aggie in all her Aggie glory, but it assuages me. Not the tits thing, but the fact that they’ll be coming through too.

For so long, the only friend I had was Ocean. It’s a foreign sensation to know I have two strong women in my corner.

Turning back to Preston, I nod my head resolutely. “Let’s do this.”

His answering smile is glorious, revealing two dimples on his cheeks. Is it strange that I yearn to kiss them?

No kissing dimples, Hadley.

Squeezing my eyelids shut, I step through the doorway.

My stomach tightens then drops, like the feeling you get right after you crest over the peak of a rollercoaster and plummet down the track towards the Earth, but I feel fine besides that.

“You can open your eyes,” Preston states quietly, and I oblige.

My breath leaves me as I stare at my surroundings in shock, as a sort of numb quality glissades over my skin until I’m frozen.

I’m...floating. My feet hover over the grassy plains, and one glance at my arm shows a black sleeve—something I most definitely was not wearing earlier. In my hand, a scythe glistens in the sun like thousands of diamonds.

I’m a fucking Reaper.

It’s like a slap to the face. I don’t quite know what to do with myself. I’m the monster that hides in the shadows, lurks in hospital corridors, preys on unsuspecting individuals ambling the dark alleys late at night.

“Fuck,” I murmur, glancing at the robe swishing around my bare legs.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Preston inhales deeply, almost as if he can scent the flowers beneath our feet. “Being back here. Being the predator instead of the prey.”

And...that just went dark as shit.

One glance shows that we are alone. I have no idea where the other Dearly Departeds and Reapers emerged, but I’m grateful they’re not around to witness my inevitable freak-out.

I’m back on Earth.

Invisible.

With a fucking scythe in my hand like I’m some sort of serial killer.

I take a trembling step forward...actually, I don’t take a step forward. I glide forward, and I swear I feel the phantom brush of grass against my ankles. The feeling is surreal, and I’m left trembling, disoriented, and confused.

For a brief moment, staring at the cerulean sky touched with the palest pink and gold from the setting sun and the untamed grass intermingling with weeds and flowers, I allow myself to believe I’m alive. It’s a stupid fantasy, of course. I’m deader than dead. My body is deteriorating almost a dozen feet below ground, maggots feasting inside my eye sockets and gaping mouth.

Ew. Great visual.

But, for a moment, I imagine I’ll wake up in bed and make waffles with my dad, tease my mom’s newest fashion style, and then go shopping with Ocean. I’ll meet a guy, fall in love, and then start a family. My days won’t be ridden with hospital stays and sickness, and my life won’t be an endless abyss of darkness and pain.

Light.

I see a future where I’m stepping into the light.

“The first time is always the hardest,” Preston comments understandingly. His body presses against mine from behind, and his hand rests on my shoulder. He’s the only real thing on this plane, the only tangible being. The heat he emits warms me and my shriveled, cold heart.

“When you died, did it hurt? I mean, did you feel pain?” I don’t know why the question explodes from my traitorous mouth. Maybe I’m feeling nostalgic about life and all that shit. All I know for certain is that his answer is immensely important.

He doesn’t speak for a long moment, and when he does, his voice is a hushed murmur. Subdued.

“A little, but I died quickly. Unlike…” he trails off, releasing a long sigh. I chance a glance over my shoulder, struck by the pain in his eyes. It’s barely concealed behind the smile he flashes my way.

“Unlike?” I press, but he squeezes my shoulder and pushes me forward.

“Enough depressing talk. We have work to do.”

I recognize a topic change when I see one, and I concede graciously.

My fingers interlock with his as we move across the field and into what appears to be a cul-de-sac. Half of the houses are under construction, while the other half have large expanses of lawns, complete with play sets and swimming pools. Fence after fence separate each house, varying in color and thickness.

“Why are we here?” I ask Preston hesitantly. In answer, he squeezes my fingers once more.

He leads me to a house near the end of the street, which is freshly painted a shade of russet red. The front door is closed, and for a moment, I fear we’re going to break in.

Until Preston glides on through with a grace corporeal Preston sorely lacks because he’s a motherfucking Reaper.

Yeah, I sometimes forget that.

I reluctantly trail after him, my hand squeezing his so tightly I’m sure it’ll leave a bruise.

If souls could bruise. What’s the logistics for that, anyway? Souls could die and obviously have their eyes burned from their bodies, but could they bruise? For example, if we were fucking, and Preston pressed his fingernails into my back…

Down, Hadley.

My vagina kind of reminds me of a Venus Fly Trap, only the flies are penises, and she’s capturing them left and right. This vagina? She wants all the cock. Reaper, Angel, and Ghost. Hell, even that Demon I had eye sex with. She doesn’t discriminate.

And in answer to the bruising question. Yes. Yes, we could. Remember all those times I got beat up in combat training? Apparently, my brain turns to mush when I think about sex bruises, making me forget about the real ones.

I cast a quick glance around the house once I enter, all thoughts of sex leaving my mind.

The interior shows a sparsely lit living room decorated with pictures and portraits. A quick glance at one of the frames adorning the fireplace mantle reveals a family of five. Three kids ranging from toddler to teenager and two smiling parents.

Something cold travels through my veins.

“We better not be collecting the souls of fucking kids, Preston,” I whisper in horror. My stomach churns uneasily at the thought, rebelling. That is a hard no for me. Obviously, someone has to do it. Kids die all the time. I’ve seen it myself.

But that person isn’t going to be me.

“Don’t worry.” Preston gives me a warm, sympathetic smile. He looks tired, I realize. Deep bags shadow his eyes. I yearn to comfort him, to ask him if he’s okay, but I’m not sure if he would be receptive. “He’s expecting us.”

“He?”

We move down the hallway and into a simple bedroom. There is a bed dressed in gray and white sheets with twin nightstands flanking either side and a dresser against the far wall.

The woman who was in the photograph is now holding the hand of an elderly man—not the man in the photograph. This one is significantly older with a bald head and wrinkled face. His pruned, lifeless hand is held tightly in hers.

“I love you so much, Daddy,” she sobs. Tears stream down her face, twin tracks of black mascara.

“Is that his daughter?” I whisper. My throat clogs with emotion as I stare at her huddled form.

I can’t imagine what she’s going through. I had been on the other end of it though, and I know death isn’t something you can just come back from. You can try, of course, but it’s like climbing up a twenty foot ladder. The second you reach the final rung, you discover it’s coated in something slick. Your hand slips, and you plummet back to the ground.

“Yes.” Preston nods, moving to stand on the other side of the bed. He looks despondently at the sobbing woman before glancing back at the man. “He lives with his daughter and her husband. His grandchildren. He’ll die loved and happy, with his family surrounding him, of natural causes.”

I timidly move to stand beside him.

“You know all that?” I ask in awe.

He bobs his head decisively.

“Reapers know exactly how their charges die. Or, in this case, how they’re going to die,” he explains softly, and his shoulders slump almost if that knowledge is a physical burden.

“I can’t imagine living with that.”

“And I can’t imagine living without that.”

We’re both silent, staring at the man until his chest stops rising. The woman’s cries escalate, reaching a crescendo, and she curls her body over his. Her wails ratchet up a notch, and all I want to do is comfort her, comfort this stranger.

“Is there anything we can do for her?” I question Preston, my voice raspy with suppressed emotion. When he turns to stare at me, I’m stunned to see tears in his vibrant eyes. He brushes them away with the back of his hand.

“Our job doesn’t deal with the living, only the dead.” His eyes fixate on something over my shoulder, and he lowers his head in a semblance of a nod. “We help them understand what’s happening to them, where they are, and where they’re going.”

I follow the direction of his gaze, heart jumping when I spot the same man lying dead on the bed also standing behind me.

Up close, I can see a sheen to his skin that wasn’t there previously. Red blotches erupt on his cheeks, and thick, gray hair is now cascading to his shoulders. He smiles softly, rolling his shoulders back. That smile fades when he catches sight of his daughter crying over his body.

“Danielle,” he murmurs, stepping towards her, but Preston blocks his path.

“Robert Young?” the Reaper asks, voice soft.

The man, Robert apparently, glances at him in confusion.

Preston slowly lowers his hood, every movement methodical. I can see why he’s a Reaper. The man’s compassionate and kind. Patient and understanding.

He’s the epitome of light in this world plagued by darkness.

I watch as he talks to Robert. I watch as Robert cries into his shoulder, racking sobs shaking his body. I watch Preston comfort the older man, patting his back and murmuring words too low for me to hear.

Preston is too good for this world.

Too good for me.

And it only solidifies the fact that I could never be a Reaper.

Chapter 17

BRAXTON

Professor Malcom’s classroom is unlike any of the others at the Afterworld Academy. Instead of wooden desks and plastic chairs facing smart boards, his room is more… rudimentary, in an underground room with no windows to see outside his class.

Cinder block walls make their way from floor to ceiling, making it feel more like a basement than a classroom. Stone benches usually line the center of the room, splitting in the middle for an aisle to pass through, but today they are spread around the perimeter of the class, allowing the middle to be empty for what’s to come. Ancient artifacts hang from the walls, but are safely tucked behind protective glass, you know, in case a Demon forgets to control his fire properly.

Someone was smart designing this place. Either that, or previous classes burned the old decor to the ground.

I glance around and see the others are just as anxious as I am. Merik is shifting where he sits next to me on the bench, and Darren has his dark eyes narrowed on the door. Meeting your Dearly Departed for the first time is no mundane thing. This soul will be directly involved in my life for the next year. Anxiety rushes through me. I wonder who it will be, who I’ll win—hopefully not that crude old woman. I don’t have the patience for her.

The door to our room opens, and Professor Malcom comes barging through, his dark hair trailing behind him. He stomps up the stairs at the front of the class and places himself behind a cement podium.

“Third years. Today, you will meet your Dearly Departeds. Just like you met your Demon mentors during your first year. Please show them patience and respect, but push them when they need it. Becoming a Demon is not for everyone. Many of your DDs will scare easily. Do not harp on them. Do not make them feel inferior because they can’t cope with the horrors that come with your position. Instead, encourage them. Support them. There are things at work this year at the Academy that haven’t been seen in two decades. Mentor your DDs, train them, because they could be fighting alongside you one day.”

Low conversations pick up after his ominous speech. Whispers of his sinister warning and what it could mean. Of course I already know, having been shown by Karston only a few days ago. But the others, their minds are spinning with questions that have no answers.

A knock on the door has us all turning around.

“Come,” Malcom states, a moment before the steel door creaks open. Behind it, an Angel I’ve come to despise leads the new Dearly Departeds into our classroom. Amelia’s gaze fixes on Malcom as she throws her hair over her shoulder and saunters into the classroom, her white wings flitting behind her.

“Amelia,” Malcom addresses her coldly. Her face falls, and I have to stifle a laugh at her expense. That woman is infuriating. She’s obsessed with us Demons, making her way through us like a five-course dinner until she finds one to her liking. Unfortunately for her, none of us like her back.

She’s a complete psychopath.

I don’t know how she landed an Angel position. At least she’s not a Guardian or Earth would be fucking doomed.

The DDs file in behind her, their eyes wide as they glance around a room full of Demons. I remember that tendril of fear I felt the first time I was met with the same sight. On Earth, we are taught to fear Demons, that they are creatures made from the Devil himself. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. The living knows little of how much we protect them.

My eyes search each face as it enters, looking for one in particular. A face I’m not sure if I want to see or not.

Bright, curious eyes meet my mine, but quickly look away as her cheeks redden beautifully. I can feel my dead heart racing in my chest. The girl in question fiddles with a lock of sandy blonde hair and chews on her lower lip nervously. Long, muscular legs peek out from under the too short plaid skirt, accentuated by knee-high socks and black, patent leather shoes.

I can’t help but wonder what type of panties she has on underneath. My guess is black and lacy. I know that shouldn’t be the first thing I think about, but growing up, it was something my brothers and I always did.

Some days, when we were bored, we would head over to the mall and people watch while sipping on milkshakes. We’d bet and argue back and forth about what style of panties the hot girls might have on as they sauntered past. And on really good days, we got to find out who was right.

Those were the days…

I find myself licking my lips as my eyes trail up those legs to her curvy hips and thin waist. Her breasts push the limits of the buttons on her shirt, and I can see the baby pink bra she wears under it. She’s the total package, with an hourglass figure most girls would kill for. And most guys will give their left foot to run their tongue up and down every dip of her body or watch that beautiful flush creep up her skin as she writhes in ecstasy underneath them.

Fuck, this girl drives me as wild in her death as she did during her life.

Malcom clears his throat and once again commands our attention.

“Up first is Layla. Layla, would you please come forward and join me by the podium?”

I look around to find said girl looking anxious, her eyes wide as she stares at Professor Malcom before scooting out of line and striding to the front of the class. Layla quickly squashes her anxiety and puts a calm face on as she climbs the stairs. With a hand on her hip, she spins and surveys the class expectantly.

She shifts her weight as Malcom scrutinizes her, her confidence faltering for a moment. He offers her a wry smile before asking, “Who wishes to fight for Layla?”

Every male in the class stands up, well, besides me. Her jaw drops, and she looks up at Malcom.

“What are they doing?” she questions, one eyebrow cocked.

“Fighting for the right to be your Demon Mentor, of course.”

“But—”

“Demons, take your positions,” Malcom calls, cutting her off. “Ready. Set. Fight!”

An all out brawl takes place in the center of the room, and the DD’s back up firmly against the wall, trying to stay out of the way. Blood flies, and various cuss words mix together to form completely new phrases as the Demons fight for mentorship of one curly-haired Layla. Some Demons try and use flight to their advantage, but the ceilings are too low in here, so they can only hover for a moment. I duck when a body comes flying towards me and crashes into the wall behind me. I take a moment to ensure the safety of the DD I’m most interested in before returning my attention back to the battle in front of me.

Quicker than I had anticipated, only Merik and Talyn remain. They circle each other like predators, their wings stretched behind them, fangs descended, and claws protruding from their fingers. Merik makes the first move and slices at Talyn, who jumps out of the way. Merik feints left then spins to the right and cracks Talyn on the back of his head with a closed fist.

Talyn stumbles but doesn’t fall. Merik takes advantage of his disorientation and crouches to the floor, then spins with his leg extended, wiping Talyn’s feet out from under him. He crashes to the ground in a heap, and Merik roars his victory.

“Congratulations, Merik,” Professor Malcom calls, while clapping his hands with fervor. “Layla, please join Merik and exit the class. He will take you to your first lesson.”

Layla shoots the girl I’ve got my eye on a help me kind of look. She shrugs it off and shoos her off stage. Composing herself once more, Layla tugs her skirt, and with grace, steps down the stairs and over to a bloodied Merik.

“Hey Layla. I’m Merik, and I’m looking forward to being your Demon mentor…” His words fade as he leads her from the classroom.

“Up next is Garret,” Malcom announces.

A burly man in his mid-forties joins Malcom at the head of the class. He tugs on his beard as he observes the Demons.

“Who wishes to fight for Garret?” Malcom calls. More than half of the females jump at the chance. And a few of the males. Garret is built strong and would be a great DD to mentor.

“Demons take your positions!” Malcom shouts, but I ignore him. My mind travels to the dead girl Karston took me to see, her charred eyes, her fractured skin. My thoughts drift to the conversation I overheard about the Darkness and the fact that it’s loose at the Academy this very moment.

And that’s when I realize...

I’d do anything to become her mentor. The desire to keep her safe, to keep her body close to mine overwhelms me. Her safety is parallel to none. The only person I can trust to keep her safe is myself, and no one will be able to keep me from what I want.

Several DDs are auctioned off, and the fighting continues as the smells of sweat and blood permeate the air. I replay the advanced fighting techniques I’ve learned in Mr. Thumb’s class and plot my victory.

“Up next is Hadley.”

Hadley’s cheeks redden again.

Adorable.

That plump lower lip of hers sinks back into her mouth as she chews on it anxiously. I envision my own teeth tugging on it, while my fingers thread through her wavy hair.

“Who wishes to fight for Hadley?”

Not wanting to seem too anxious, I wait for others to enter the center before I stand and join them. I can feel her eyes on me, watching. I glance up at her under the dark hair that has fallen over my eyes. I could swear her breath hitched when our eyes connected.

Yes, beautiful, I feel it too.

I stretch my neck and shake my limbs before crouching down into my fighting stance. Almost as many Demons are fighting for her as there were for her friend Layla, but they don’t stand a chance against me.

I’m the head Demon for fuck’s sake.

“Ready. Set. Fight!”

I don’t attack right away. Instead, I let the Demons who have more brawn than brains duke it out. The thudding sounds of fists slamming against bodies is like music to my ears. Grunts, howls, wails… Each one means one more Demon down, one less competitor whose ass I’ll have to kick. The number of Demons dwindles. Surprisingly, Talyn has taken out more than half of them, even after getting fucked up by Merik. When there are only four of us left, I jump in.

Tired from the initial brawl, they don’t stand a chance against me. I swirl around them like smoke, blinding them with speed before I make a move against them, causing them to crumple to the floor. Like a dancer, I fight gracefully. Each and every move thought out before I execute them.

My fists connect like blasts of lighting. My feet lash out like the tail end of a whip, taking each victim by surprise. I’ve barely begun to sweat when the last Demon falls, leaving me the victor.

I crack my neck and glance up at Hadley before striding over and offering her my hand. She pauses for a moment before tentatively placing hers inside mine. The second our skin touches, I almost shudder in pleasure. I’ve been thinking about this moment since our eyes first met two weeks ago across a grassy field. I didn’t hold her gaze then, the shock of seeing her in the Afterlife was too much for me.

I give her much smaller hand a squeeze and say, “Hey, Hadley. I’m—”

“Braxton,” she finishes for me.

I raise my eyebrow at her in question. “So, you’ve heard of me?” I ask her as I lead her from the classroom.

“Get ‘er dunn, tiger!” that crass old lady shouts at us as she thrusts her hips.

“Don’t mind Saggy Aggie,” Hadley tells me. “She’s harmless.”

“About as harmless as a crazed Hellhound,” I mutter. Hadley frowns at me as the door shuts behind us.

“To answer your question. Yes. I have heard of you.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, then continues, “I was told about you from a certain annoying Angel by the name of Jake—”

“Fucking Jake,” I curse, interrupting her.

She slaps me on the chest and busts out laughing.

“You call him that too?” she inquires, giggling. “I thought Preston and I were the only ones.”

The sound of her laughter brings a smile to my face, but I quickly staunch it. I can’t let her see the effect she has on me. I need to maintain complete control when I’m around her, otherwise, I’ll fall for her all over again.

I can’t let that happen, even if I want it to.

I barely even process that she mentioned the Fucker’s name. Preston. If that’s his bedroom talk, I’ll have to have a nice, long conversation with him on the proper ways to woo a woman. Mentioning another man’s name and “fuck” in the same sentence is not the way.

But that would involve actually talking to the asshole, and I would rather cut off my balls. The last thing I need is for him to fight me for Hadley’s affection.

“Annoying isn’t the half of it,” I add, speaking of Jake. “He’s rude, pompous, and—”

“A total asshole?” she finishes for me.

“Or a whole ass,” I counter. She smirks at me, her eyes shining bright. “Definitely a whole ass. Don’t trust him, Hadley. That Angel is bad news.”

“Oh, I won’t. Preston, my Reaper mentor, all but told me Jake is the devil himself. He creeps me out. Always staring at me when he thinks I’m not looking.”

My blood surges. If Jake dares to even lay a finger on my—on Hadley, then he’ll suffer my wrath.

“Just ignore him, Hadley. He’s more trouble than he’s worth,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

Realizing I’m still clutching her hand, I drop it and stalk towards the stairs leading up from underground. I hear her heels clicking behind me on the stone floor.

Good. She’s following me.

We exit the stairwell through a normal looking classroom door and walk through the hallways of the Afterworld Academy. She picks up speed and sidles up beside me, her smaller legs working twice as hard to keep up.

She’s so tiny and cute. I just want to wrap her up in a little ball and hold her tightly, protect her, ensure she’s always safe.

But I can’t.

Won’t.

The war inside my mind rages when it comes to Hadley. On Earth, she was someone my dark Demon heart was drawn to. Creatures of the night frequented her house, especially when her cancer took a turn for the worse. It was my job to fight them off, protect her, and I’m finding it hard to push that role from my mind.

“Through here.” I lead her out of the exit and stop to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Night has fallen, and nothing but the moon and stars light our path.

“What are we doing out here?” she asks.

“Patrolling.” I try to keep my voice as nonchalant as possible. As if this was a normal thing at the Academy. I don’t want to worry her about the Darkness and other things that lurk in the shadowy corners of the Afterlife. “Demons are charged with the safety of the students and the staff. Since our vision is exceptional in the dark, we patrol at night.”

“So… others patrol during the day?” she questions.

“Mmhmm,” I respond. “Usually the Angels. The staff like those of us who can fly to patrol since we can cover more ground quickly.”

She’s quiet for a moment, but I know those wheels are spinning inside her pretty head. “What could you possibly need to protect dead people from? I mean… does it have anything to do with that dead soul?”

My gut sinks.

I grab her arm and force her to return my gaze. “How do you know about that?” I demand, my voice accusatory.

Her face pales, and she audibly gulps.

“I saw it. I can never unsee it. It was horrible, Braxton. Like watching a nightmare play out in front of my waking eyes. Every time I try to sleep, blink, enjoy a quiet moment, I replay the image of her over and over again.” She rubs at her temples. “I can’t shake it.”

Fuck.

“Does anyone else know you saw it?”

“Oh yeah. My other two mentors, Auston and Preston, were with me when I found her. Then Administer dude had a special meeting, and I was the star of the show,” she says sarcastically. “That Malcom guy? He was there too.”

Interesting.

I find myself at a loss for words, unsure if I want to coddle her, protect her from the danger she can’t even fathom, or toughen her up and prepare her for what’s to come. Seeing how shaken she is, I decide to go with my protective instincts.

“Don’t get too worked up, okay? I’m sure it’s just an accident,” I lie. She frowns at me like she doesn’t believe me, but I can’t help wanting to shield her from anymore hurt. She suffered enough on the human plane.

We round a corner and head down the path which weaves through the trees, taking us back to the dormitories. A brisk wind rustles the leaves above our heads as we walk in silence.

I’m trying to think of something to say, something that won’t make me sound like a fucking asshole, when a twig snapping grabs my attention. I swirl about, tuck her behind me, and summon my sword all in one motion.

“Braxton, what—”

“Shh. Something is out there. Stay behind me.”

I hold out my palm and summon my fire. Hadley gasps, her hot breath fanning my neck, when the ball of flames appears in my hand.

“Cool trick.”

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

“Yes. But I never said I’d listen.”

I huff and head into the trees, veering off the worn path. I hold my hand up high and spot something moving in the trees.

“What is that?” Hadley wonders from behind me.

“Not sure. But I want to take a closer look. Come on.”

With my fire illuminating the way, we make our way through the dense forest until we come upon a sight that freezes the blood in my veins.

Hadley shrieks when the swaying object comes into view.

There, indeed, is something moving through the trees.

Actually, it’s swinging from a tall branch secured by a rope fixed tightly around its neck, blood seeping from its eyes, ears, and mouth…

Another dead soul, killed just like the one I saw in the cryo drawer in the morgue...

What the fuck?

Chapter 18

Hadley

The body swings like a pendulum from the tree. Brown slacks on muscular legs, white pressed shirt, and standard school jacket with the crest over the breast.

The man’s name was Dennis. A first year, like me, and a man I saw from time to time. I never talked to him before, but he sat behind me in more than one class. Quiet and subdued, his eyes were vibrant with life despite his timid nature. His laugh was hearty, the full belly kind that made you want to join in.

And now, he’s dead. Nothing but a body dangling precariously from a tree branch.

I stare at his unblemished face. His open eyes, still trickling blood from the corners, are sightlessly staring down at me with an unnerving intensity. No cracks mar his skin.

He died differently than the girl I saw in the river.

I hear the whispers from the professors, the hushed murmurs in quiet corridors when they think we’re not listening.

Two murderers.

Two different MOs.

Fear clamps my heart, refusing to release it. My breath saws in and out.

“Hadley.”

The voice claws at my skin, piercing nails I feel down to my very soul. I turn, wide-eyed, only to see Dennis staring at me. Watching me. His lips move even as his body continues to swing, the rope a vise around his throat.

“Hadley.”

The voice is not the one I remember. It’s lower, raspier, and sounds like thousands of voices overlapping. Thousands of dead souls crying for me, screaming at me, demanding something of me I can’t entirely comprehend.

“Hadley.”

I spin wildly at the second, unfamiliar voice. The girl’s jaw is gaping as fissures sever her skin like cracked glass. Her burnt eye sockets are fixed on me, and I feel like I’m looking into black abysses. Falling head over feet into a black hole, tumbling like one would in a tidal wave. Drowning, but the pain is almost bittersweet.

Her jaw cracks open even farther until it’s hanging by bloody tendons. Her voice is a distorted growl.

“Hadley.”

“Hadley.”

* * *

“Hadley!”

I wake up with a start, disoriented and unable to remember where I am. The first thing I process is artificial moonlight streaming through my fluttering blinds. In the bed next to mine, Aggie’s chest rises and falls steadily.

I’m in my room in the Academy.

It has been a week since I found that second body. A week since the nightmares began again, plaguing my every sleeping moment. It’s times like this when I wish sleep wasn’t necessary for the dead. It doesn’t make a lick of sense. We don't need to eat or use the bathroom, yet we need to sleep? Is it some sort of cruel joke? Do the Fates just want us to have nightmares?

The second thing I note is a familiar figure huddling over me, his eyes wide with concern and a frown pulling at his plush lips.

Karston.

His blond hair is disheveled as if he has run his hands through it one too many times. He’s dressed in a white shirt with blue and black striped pajama bottoms.

What the fuck is he doing in my room?

“I heard you crying,” he explains hoarsely. “Through the walls. I couldn’t leave you.”

I lick my suddenly dry lips, and his eyes lower to capture that diminutive movement.

“I see them.” I don’t know why I’m admitting it to him, a stranger, but once the first words leave, I can’t stop myself. They spill from my mouth as tears fill my eyes. “I close my eyes, and I see them. Ali and Dennis. The souls who died. What happened to them? Why did they die so differently? Are there two murderers? Why am I dreaming of them? They won’t go away, Karston. I can’t make them go away. I close my eyes, and they’re there. Waiting for me. Always fucking waiting for me. I’m so fucking scared right now, do you get that? Do you understand? I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t eat. I just see them, and they haunt me.”

I close my eyes, and tears catch on my eyelashes. The pain is raw, a wound that hasn’t quite scabbed over. I pick at the skin, pluck at it, and blood wells.

I can’t fucking stop.

Karston bites his lower lip before something akin to resolve crosses his face.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll stay and keep the nightmares away.”

“I don’t know you,” I whisper, but I’m exhausted. For weeks now, I have been fighting this battle alone. I just want someone to hold the weight, if only for a moment. If only so I can sleep. The weight of the world, the burden of their deaths, is so heavy, and my shoulders are weak. If Karston is offering, who am I to say no?

“Go to sleep.” He presses his lips to my forehead and climbs in bed behind me, arms tightening almost imperceptibly around me.

“And you’ll keep the nightmares away?” I murmur drowsily, turning towards him.

“I’ll try,” he promises. His lips touch my scalp again, and I nestle further against him, placing my face into the crook of his neck. Inhaling deeply, I catch a waft of something sweet, something distinctly Karston.

For the first time in weeks, I sleep through the night. When I wake up, I’m alone in bed, the phantom remnants of heat warming my body from the inside out.

I almost believe I imagined the entire interaction.

Almost.

But my skin still tingles where Karston held me through the night. A mysterious Ghost I hardly know. I can’t deny I felt innately safe and protected in his arms, as if I was meant to be there.

As if I knew him.

But that’s ridiculous.

Right?

Chapter 19

Karston

Holding Hadley while she nuzzled into my chest as close as humanly—or souly—possible will go down as the best night I’ve had since becoming a student at the Academy. She felt so tiny in my arms, nestled in all snug. I buried my face in her sandy blonde hair and inhaled her strawberry shampoo. That might be my new favorite smell.

She seemed to deflate in my arms, like she allowed me to help her carry the burden of her nightmares of the tragic and horrifying things she’d seen in the past few weeks. I couldn’t blame her broken mind for weaving terrifying tales even while she slept. Hell, if Ghosts were able to dream, I’m sure the same thing would be happening to me.

“Karston, are you listening?” Mrs. Myle shouts with her hands on her hips. I want to reply with obviously I wasn’t, but think better of it. “This is important. You are about to embark on the hunt to find your DD. Pay attention!”

I grumble something inaudible in response.

“Yeah, Karston, pay attention,” Frederick sneers from his seat next to me, an evil smirk plastered on his stupid face. I turn my gaze to him, scowling as I do.

“Worried I’ll grab the good ones from under your nose, eh, Freddy?” I taunt.

“Not at all. We all know who the best Ghost in our class is. And it certainly isn’t you.”

I shrug. He has a point. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Care to make a wager on that?” I ask, wanting to see how far I can push him. “Winner gets bragging rights for best in class. What do you say, Freddy?”

“I’m in. I’ll plow you over like that Mack truck that killed you and your dumbass brothers.”

My face grows hot with anger. Who the fuck does he think he is, talking about the way I died like that? That’s a forbidden zone. Only lowlifes would sink to that level.

“Wager?” I grumble out, trying to school my features so he doesn’t realize he got to me.

“Well. I have my eye on a certain DD I want to mentor. Whoever gets to her first, wins,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Easy,” I retort, running my fingers through my hair. “Who’s the DD?”

“Oh. Just a random girl.” He picks at his fingernails. “You probably haven't even noticed her. Sandy blonde hair. Bright blue eyes.” He raises his gaze to me. Bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. He must have spied on Hadley and I during one of our interactions.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” I say nonchalantly. “Does she have a name? Or does she go by sandy blonde hair, blue-eyed girl?”

“Really? You sure you haven't seen her? Because I could have sworn you slept in her bed last night…” he trails off, cupping his chin in feigned thought.

“Deal,” I call before I have a chance to think about what I’ve said. Basically, I’m offering my sweet Hadley up as bait for my own battle. If she ever finds out…

“Deal,” Frederick agrees, offering his hand. I shake it once.

The wager has been made.

“Okay class,” Mrs. Myle calls, grabbing our attention once more. “We will head out to the ghost town. The DDs are already there, hiding. Find the one you wish to mentor and claim them by drawing them out of hiding. Remember, they have the right to refuse you if they do not want you. If that happens, abandon that DD and search for a new one until you and your DD are happy with the match or until there is no one left.”

We all push our chairs back and prepare to dematerialize before taking ourselves down to Earth.

“Finders keepers,” Freddy jeers at me as he disappears before my eyes.

I will my change to go quicker, determined not to let that asshole beat me to my own girl.

Yeah, I consider her mine already, even though she doesn’t know it yet.

In my mind’s eye, I visualize the ghost town I was brought to during my first year. As the classroom around me fades, the ghost town appears, growing tall out of the sandy desert.

It’s nighttime, same as the last time I was here. The buildings have decayed more, the weather having its way with the old wooden structures, and the bell tower on the old church has toppled over, its copper bell creepily hanging out of the ruins like a lolling tongue.

The sign from the general store is strewn across the dirt road, and the flag waving in the wind has ripped in several more sections, looking more like a nineties fringed jacket than the old red, white, and blue.

Ghosts from my class materialize around me as we wait not so patiently for Mrs. Myle to give us the signal.

She raises her arm. “You have one hour. Go!” she shouts, dropping her arm.

The chase is on.

I think back on what I know of Hadley. If I were her, where would I hide? Right away, I cross off the church and the bank. I don’t think either of those places would call to her free spirit. The general store is out since she’d have no interest in the mundane. Which leaves the old hotel, the saloon, and the brothel. I don’t know why, but I picture Hadley as a very sexual creature. Maybe that's just my hope. But regardless, I pick the brothel.

Once I see Frederick head into the hotel, I make my move. Dematerializing into nothingness, I head down the empty dirt road and slip inside. The front room is tiny, with tattered maroon floral furniture, and ornately carved wooden accents. Old kerosene lamps still hang off the walls, the stench of their fuel lingering in the air along with cigarettes and brandy.

A decaying grand piano rests in the center, its keys half missing with a coat of dust on top at least an inch thick. The old bar also looks unchanged. Glasses still litter the bar top like someone had just been here, enjoying a glass of spirits only a moment before.

Evidence of the space’s use are clear everywhere. Black and white photographs hang on the walls behind glass frames, each depicting women adorned in minimal clothing and posed in lewd positions. Every picture has a name under it. Alda, Susan, Trixie… I’m sure at one point this was a way for the men of that era to choose their prize for the evening. Now, their pale faces only serve to haunt the space as much as us Ghosts do.

A desk is perched in the far corner near the spiraling staircase. Behind it are rows of hooks, each containing a single key with a number on it, I assume correlating to which room it belongs. But I don’t need any keys. I’m a Ghost. I can travel wherever the hell I want.

Abandoning the lounge area, I head upstairs and float into the first room, allowing myself to be visible to the DDs. A bed overflowing with pillows and purple drawn drapes are all that exists in here.

I float through the wall to the next room. Again, I find this one empty, except for a billiard table and several cues. The next room is at least a bit more interesting. Different ensembles hang from velvet hangers. I spot a ballerina’s tutu, a sheriff's uniform, and a doctor’s lab coat. Seems whoever got this room wanted to play dress up.

Kinky.

Definitely a room I’d like to bring Hadley to. I can just imagine her toned form in that little pink dress, dancing, a show for my eyes only. As she moved she would peel off her dress from her perfect body until I could watch every muscle bend and flex without a barrier between them and my eyes.

Shaking that arousing image from my head, I glide into the next room and startle at the sight I find. This room was made for the very kinky, as leather straps and whips hang from the walls. However, in the far corner is one very naked lady, with her tits sagging, and her gap-toothed smile aimed in my direction. She’s strewn herself up in some kind of device, with her wrists bound above her head and her legs splayed. I can feel my eyes twitch as I try not to look at old lady pussy.

“Come here, big boy, and claim your prize,” she taunts, lowering her voice to try and sound sexy. All it does is make me suppress a gag. “Dust off my spider webs. Oil my engine. Jump start my—”

I don’t stick around to listen. Instead, I practically run through the wall and find I’ve run right outside the brothel. Floating in midair is something I’m still not entirely used to. It takes a lot of concentration to keep yourself afloat. One misfire in thinking, and you’ll fall right to the ground. I will myself back inside and head down to the other side of rooms.

I come across two more hiding DDs. A man in his forties named Garett, who was making small talk on an old canopy bed with a young Ghost named Brandon, who’s no older than thirteen. I caught snippets of their conversations revolving around the newest wrestler on prime time TV and their favorite monster trucks.

Another held Layla, who I’ve learned is a good friend of my Hadley. A swarm of male Ghosts surrounded her, each vying for her attention. She looked at me with imploring eyes, but all I could do was laugh and float through the wall.

My heart races when I finish up looking through the brothel, but find no Hadley in sight. I might already be too late. The thought of Frederick with his slimy fingers touching my girl fuels my desire to find her first. And when I do find her, I’ll make damn well sure she knows I am choosing her.

I burst through the front door with a sense of urgency. Hoping that even if Freddy did find her first, she wouldn’t choose him. But Freddy is slick, and has made his way through the DDs every year we’ve been here so far. He can fool them into thinking he’s quite charming and sweet.

But I know better.

I’ve seen the trail of broken hearts he’s left in his wake, the girls kicked to the side for the next, newest trophy to claim. He is a complete asshole, the kind of guy I hated in real life. He reminds me of my step father, Jeremy. He was a womanizer, a narcissist. Jeremy treated my mom like garbage, and she let him. Every time she got brave enough to kick him out, he’d end up crawling back. Time and time again. And each time, she’d take him back, hoping he’d learned his lesson.

But Jeremy never did. People like him never do. They are too blinded by their own self-righteousness to see the wrong in their actions.

My eyes dart around, trying to decide on the next place to search. Then it dawns on me. The one place that most DDs would avoid is probably the one that calls to Hadley most of all.

I turn right and make my way quickly down the road to the forgotten church. But I don’t go inside it. Instead, I hurry around the back to the stone graveyard. A rickety iron fence rises from the sandy ground, encircling the tombstones of the living who once walked this town. I see Hadley, staring at a name on one of the headstones.

A smile graces my face. I’ve found her first. Schooling my features as to not look too anxious, I materialize and walk in her direction. But in my desire to keep my affection for her a secret, I lingered a second too long, allowing Frederick to scoot in.

“What’s a gorgeous young girl like you doing all alone in a dark graveyard?” he coos, circling her like a predator would his prey. “Would you like a big, strong Ghost to protect you from the evil spirits? A man to give you everything you ever wanted? To make your dreams come true?”

This time, I can’t hold in the gag that chokes me.

Not this time, fucker.

Hadley is mine.

Swallowing my apprehension for falling for this girl, I stride up behind her. Before she can answer Freddy’s pompous question, I spin her around and crush my lips into hers.

And she lets me.

Her tiny fingers thread into my hair, pulling at the strands tightly. She opens her mouth to my searching tongue, letting me taste her. We groan in tandem as our kiss deepens. I open my eyes for a moment to wink at one shocked Freddy and flip him the bird before focusing completely on my Hadley.

My hands slide down her back and cup her full ass in my palms, and my cock jumps in response. Hadley slips her free hand under my shirt and trails her fingers along my abs, causing my whole body to shudder in pleasure.

I can’t handle another second of this, or I might take her here in the graveyard.

I pull away from her mouth with difficulty and cup her face in my hands, running my thumbs across her flushed cheeks. Her pouty lips are still swollen from our kiss.

So sexy.

“Hadley?” I ask.

“Yes,” she answers breathlessly.

“Will you allow me to be your Ghost mentor?”

A smile grows on her face, showing off her high cheekbones and white teeth.

“Took you long enough to find me. Maybe I should give that other guy a chance,” she teases.

“You wouldn’t…”

She tosses her head back and laughs then, and it fills my heart with joy. Peace. Being with Hadley just feels so right, like our souls were meant to be together.

“Yes, Karston. I’ll be your Dearly Departed.” She pulls that lower lip into her mouth and looks up at me through her thick black lashes.

My heart skips a beat.

“Fuck, yes!” I shout, before picking her up by the waist. She threads her legs around me as I take her mouth once more. I take notice of every little detail, because this moment will go down as the best moment of my life. Our tongues duel in an erotic dance, and I think about how much longer I’ll be able to conceal my true feelings for her, the feelings I developed from my time spent watching her on Earth. The months I spent as her shadow, her Ghost.

But I push that down.

For now, I’ll just enjoy this moment.

Our moment.

Chapter 20

Hadley

“...and then he kissed me.” I finish the story with a dramatic sigh, lying on the bed with my head dangling off the edge. My blonde hair scrapes across the floor, but I can’t find it within me to care.

“Only kissed?” Aggie asks, and I turn my head towards the old bat. She’s sitting on the bed opposite me, appearing upside down with the way my head’s angled. A single white brow is quirked. “I would’ve taken that Ghost for a ride through pound town. As in, my vagina overtop of his face as he sucks—”

“For fuck’s sake, Aggie!” Layla interjects. From this position, I can’t see her, but I know she’s perched daintily on the edge of my bed.

I hadn’t meant to spill all of my secrets to Aggie and Layla, but I had arrived at my dorm confused and flustered. My lips still tingle from Karston’s kiss, the heat almost palpable.

I can’t deny the fact that I wanted him to kiss me...but I also want Auston and Preston to kiss me. Hell, I even want to taste Braxton’s lips, though I don’t know him as well.

“You know what you need?” Aggie says seriously.

“Don’t you dare say I need to spread my pussy lips open and wave them at the world like a damn American flag,” I warn, finally sitting up and inching backwards until my back’s against the wall. I cross my arms over my chest and level her with a look.

Aggie stares at me dryly.

“No, I was going to say you need to follow your heart—”

I underestimated her.

“—so you know which cock you want to joyride on.”

Maybe not.

“Joyride on? Is that a thing? That doesn’t sound right,” Layla muses, placing a finger to her chin and tapping.

Aggie opens her mouth, but whatever she was going to say is blessedly interrupted by multiple knocks on the door in rapid succession.

The three of us exchange bemused looks before Aggie practically runs towards the door, mumbling, “Man meat, man meat, man meat,” repeatedly beneath her breath.

I sit up straighter, smooth down my skirt, and bring a hand to my hair. Wait. What the hell am I doing?

Seriously.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Good grief. Soon, I’ll be huddled in a broom closet masturbating to pictures of four guys while cackling maliciously beneath my breath. Why that thought came to me, I have no idea. Just go with it.

I know it’s one of them even before Aggie completely opens the door.

Immediately, Saggy Aggie drapes herself over the door frame, purposefully bending down to give the poor man a view of her wrinkled cleavage.

Preston looks positively aghast, and I can’t keep in my chuckle. His eyes flash to my face and the horror contorts into happiness, twin orbs of mossy green eyes speckled with darker emerald.

A brilliant smile cleaves his face in two, as delectable dimples appear in each cheek.

My heart stutters to a stop before kick starting with a vengeance.

“Hi,” I blurt stupidly.

Real smooth, Hadley. Real fucking smooth.

“Hi,” he replies just as awkwardly. Layla catches my eye and smirks.

“Joyride,” she mouths, licking her lips exaggeratedly. I roll my eyes and toss a pillow in her direction. Preston glances between the two of us, lost, but I shake my head with another eye roll.

For a moment, we silently stare at each other. Splotches of red appear on his cheeks, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. Rocking back and forth on his feet, he removes one hand and forks it through his hair. When the strands become disheveled, sticking up in all directions, he pushes at them again with an annoyed grunt.

“So…” Layla’s voice breaks the silence. “Is there something you need, Preston?” She glances in my direction pointedly, and this time it’s my cheeks that burn. Am I on fire? Yup. That’s how I’m going to die. Spontaneous combustion from embarrassment.

Well, die again.

I sometimes forget I’m already dead.

“Yes...um...yes. I said that already, didn’t I? Yessss.” He drags the final “s” out with a pucker to his lips, brow furrowed, and head canted adorably to the side. He seems genuinely confused by that one word, as if it holds the secret to life. Apparently coming out of his daze, he clears his throat and rocks back again.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

“Preston,” I prompt softly, once more capturing his attention.

“Sorry, um, I was actually coming to talk to you, Hadley.”

“Me? Do we have more walking lessons?” I inquire, and Layla covers her mouth with her hand to stifle the laughter threatening to break free.

“No, um...I was actually hoping I could, um...take you out?” His voice wavers towards the end, turning the statement into a question. My breathing stops; my heart stills.

Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

As my mind races, so does my heart—hope, fear, and elation vying for attention. I sit up straighter, my hands fisting in the threaded quilt.

With bated breath, I whisper, “Take me out?”

“Like on a date?” Layla pipes in giddily. I’m pretty sure she’s solidly on Team Preston. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had t-shirts printed with his name and mine in a heart, and a fan club that met every Wednesday to discuss every touch the two of us shared.

“Why her?” Aggie asks disdainfully. She throws me a look over her shoulder, the wrinkles around her eyes more pronounced. After a moment of silent consideration, she decisively bobs her head. “It’s the perky boobs, isn’t it? Honestly, her nipples aren’t that great. I highly doubt they could be milked for sustenance.”

Preston’s face is the shade of tomatoes. Literally. I have never seen a man turn so red before.

“Um...I’m sure Hadley has nice nipples, and...um...they’re not overly perky.”

Kill. Me. Now.

Preston’s eyes widen with horror when he realizes what he’s said, and his face loses all its color. He looks as if he’s seconds away from passing out.

“Not that I think about your boobs!” Preston backtracks quickly. When I frown, he hurriedly explains, “I mean, not often. If anything, I think about the panties you wear. I mean, it’s a game my brothers and I used to play, and I...um…fuck!”

Layla has her face smothered against the pillow I threw at her, her body shaking with laughter. Aggie is fondling her own saggy tits with a displeased frown marring her face.

A bunch of winners here.

“Dinner. Tonight. Seven.”

His authoritative tone, though unintentional, does something to me. Something that makes my...fuck, I’m turning into Aggie...lady bits quiver.

“It’s a date,” I whisper, trying to contain the smile that wants to erupt on my face. Preston’s answering smile is glorious, all previous embarrassment forgotten. Or, at the very least, placed in a black box and locked tight.

When he leaves and a reluctant Aggie shuts the door, I allow my mind to wander.

Fuck, what am I doing?

Kissing Karston, going on dates with Preston, and thinking about Auston’s strong, muscular arms around my waist. Hell, I’m even thinking of Braxton and the way his dark eyes seem to stare into the deepest parts of me.

One thing is painfully clear: I’m in way over my head, fucking drowning in deep water, but it might be the most beautiful death imaginable.

* * *

I stare at myself in the mirror and wiggle self-consciously.

“Is it too short?” I ask Layla, tugging at the hem of the dress.

“It’s perfect,” she gushes instantly.

“What about my breasts—”

“You look great, babe.” Layla gives my bare shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

Releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, I consider my reflection once more.

The dress Layla insisted I wear, a gem from her personal collection, is significantly shorter than anything I’ve ever worn before, the hem just covering my ass. The red material moves like silk, caressing my skin. A low neckline accentuates my ample breasts, made even larger by the push-up bra Layla allowed me to borrow. A silver necklace rests in the crevice of my cleavage, ending in a gold-encrusted heart. My blonde hair has been painstakingly curled by Layla, each ringlet luscious and voluminous. Makeup has been expertly applied to my eyes and lips. I feel...beautiful. Sexy. Desirable.

I smooth my hands up and down the dress, puckering my lips.

My kissable lips.

Fuck, I want Preston to kiss me.

“You ready for this?” Layla queries, stepping back with a conspiratorial smile. For the first time since I’ve known her, she’s wearing a ratty shirt and sweatpants, her dark hair thrown into a messy bun. Still, she looks like sex personified, and a ripple of self-consciousness travels through me.

Why would Preston look at me when he could be looking at her? She’s gorgeous, smart, funny, and kind. And what am I?

An awkward girl whose life ended too quickly.

Schooling my features before Layla can pick up on my unease, I answer, “Nervous. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on an actual date. I’ve hooked up with enough guys when the pain medication for my cancer gave me confidence drinkers would call ‘liquid courage,’ but a real date?” I search my memories, then it comes to me. “Ninth grade. Charlie Hoper. He tried to touch my boob, and I slapped him in the face.”

Layla throws back her head in laughter.

“My first date was actually with Sam,” she says, her voice turning wistful as it always does when she talks about her dead boyfriend. “My first...and last. He took me to an Italian restaurant, even though he had a horrible gluten allergy. Apparently, he wanted to impress me.” She releases another lilting laugh. “Oh, he impressed me alright. I learned that hospitals have very uncomfortable chairs.”

I chuckle. “You stayed with him?”

“Of course!” She snorts. “I wasn’t about to leave him to die!”

“Where’s Aggie?” I ask, changing the subject. I know how difficult it can be for Layla to talk about him. Sadness has begun to seep into her vibrant eyes. The wound is still fresh, still deep, and I know nothing I say will eradicate the ache.

“You didn’t hear this from me…” Layla leans forward, a wide grin on her face. “But apparently, Aggie has been doing the...um…horizontal tango with Professor Buttox.”

“What?” I exclaim, my voice rising. Aggie and our Reaper teacher?

Cue: full body shivers of revulsion. That is not a mental image I need.

“Oh yeah. She told me all about it.” Layla’s lips twist. “Too much. I didn’t need to know that Buttox can put his foot behind his head. And I didn’t need to know that he had one of his balls ripped off by a prostitute before he died.”

Both of us grimace and then simultaneously shudder in disgust.

“Ew. I don’t think I can show up to Reaper class ever again.”

“Right? There’s only so much a girl can take before she’s mentally scarred for life,” she agrees. Preston’s signature knock—bum, bum, bumbumbumbum—sounds on the door. The tension that had just abated returns, and I stand ramrod straight. Anxiety snakes down my back and into my veins until I’m choking on it.

Layla, oblivious, saunters to the door and opens it with a wide grin.

“Hey, Preston,” she chirps cheerfully.

“Hi,” he mutters awkwardly, but his attention is firmly on me. His eyes widen, bugging out of his head, and he noticeably swallows. I swear he says “fuck” beneath his breath as his eyes roam my body.

Any and all self-consciousness dissipates as quickly as it comes. He looks at me as if I’m the only girl in the world, the only girl in his world. To some, his attention might be unnerving, but I flourish beneath his heady gaze like a blossoming flower reaching for the sun. I feel so fucking beautiful with his heated eyes caressing every curve, every bare expanse of skin, every scar that others have deemed hideous.

This time, I know I’m not mistaken when he lustfully exclaims, “Fuck me.”

I smirk, finally allowing my eyes to trail over his form. The smirk fades instantly, and my mouth pops open, a breathy exhale escaping.

His brown hair is slicked back, accentuating his already arresting face. A form-fitting, three-piece suit molds to his body, the crisp white collar of his undershirt contrasting with the dark gray material. A red tie finishes off the polished, sophisticated look...completely different from the clumsy man I met. In his gunmetal suit, with cufflinks adorning his sleeves, and his messy hair carefully styled, he looks like he was plucked straight from a catalogue. A catalogue for sexy businessmen.

Fuck me as well.

Hell, we should just fuck each other, and this entire problem would be solved.

Preston finally peels his eyes away from me long enough to extend his arm—a true gentleman. I loop mine through his, and I smile back at Layla.

“Don’t wait up,” I say with a wink.

“Have her home by midnight! And don’t deflower her!” Layla calls after us, and I laugh at how much she sounded like Aggie just then.

Preston eyes shine brightly with amusement, even as his cheeks tinge pink. Again. I fucking love it when he gets embarrassed.

Is that wrong? Probably. But a lot of things about me are wrong.

Preston leads me down the hallway, and we both garner the attention of passing students. Not that I’m surprised. We’re dressed to the nines in a school where you either wear uniforms or sweatpants.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” I ask Preston lightly, knocking my shoulder with his.

“Well…” He reaches to push his unruly hair out of his eyes, only to remember it’s already slicked back. “I have something planned.”

“Really?” I say, unable to hide the excitement in my voice. The fact that he went through so much trouble for little old me sends tremors of excitement racing through my veins.

“Of course. Anything for you.” He smiles at me sweetly, and I swear metaphysical butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach.

“Hadley!” I turn towards the familiar voice even as Preston frowns. I spot Braxton immediately, hurrying through the crowd. It literally parts for him, students bracing themselves against the walls to get out of his way. What did he do to evoke such fear in his fellow classmates?

Preston straightens his shoulders, leveling an almost luminously charged glare in the Demon’s direction.

“Brax,” he greets stiffly. Braxton’s lips curl downwards when he catches sight of his brother before he reverts his attention back to me. Like his brother, his eyes widen and roam over my body. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“You look…” he trails off, unable to articulate whatever he’s thinking.

“Like she’s on a date with me? Yes, she does,” Preston replies cheekily. Braxton sends him a scathing look before turning back to me. His expression softens.

“You look beautiful, Hadley,” he compliments sincerely. “I just wanted to see if you were okay. We haven’t talked since…”

Since we found the body.

I haven’t been avoiding Braxton, per se, but I can’t deny that seeing his handsome face brings the memories rushing back.

“I’m fine, Brax. Thank you,” I respond sharply, not wanting to get sucked into the void of emotional distress at the moment.

His scowl returns suddenly, and he nods stiffly.

“Right, okay. Sorry to bother you.”

Before I can comment on his rapid change of demeanor, he shoulders past us, his silken wing grazing across my cheek, and strides down the hallway.

He doesn’t look back, not once, and I’ll never admit to anyone how badly it hurt.

Fuck.

“Don’t worry about him,” Preston says dismissively. “He’s dramatic as fuck. If he’s not the center of attention, he sulks. Trust me. I grew up with that surly bastard. Once, the girl he liked went on a date with Auston, and he gave him the silent treatment for weeks. Weeks. Fuck, that was the nicest I have ever seen him. Hadley, he’s an asshole. And he’s pissed that…” Preston suddenly seems preoccupied with his cuff link. He clears his throat before smiling once more at me. This time, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Come on. I’m not going to let Braxton ruin the best night of my life.”

Chapter 21

PRESTON

Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe what Hadley looks like. The moment I laid my eyes on her in that stunning red dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, I couldn’t breathe.

She literally stole my breath away.

Her fingers curl around my arm tightly as we walk through campus. I don’t know if she just likes touching me or if she’s afraid she might tumble over in those heels. Either way, I don’t care. The feel of her touching me, even if it’s just her fingers, is euphoric.

Everyone that crosses across our path stares at us with wide eyes and gaping mouths. It's not common to see souls this dressed up at the Academy. With no fancy restaurants or elaborate balls to go to, our attire may seem a little bit over the top.

Actually, it is over the top.

But I really wanted to impress Hadley. I’m such a bumbling idiot sometimes, well, all the time. I can barely talk when I’m around her; my tongue grows thick inside my mouth, and I forget that English is my first language and not gibberish. I really thought she might tell me no when I asked her out with pity laced in her bright eyes.

But she didn’t.

Even in front of Layla and that crazy old woman, she still said yes. I felt so reassured in that moment. Hadley liked me for who I was, not begrudging me for what I wasn’t. That kind of girl is hard to find, and I’m determined not to let this one go.

“Preston?” My name on her lips makes my cheeks heat and my heart clench.

“Hmm?” Here it comes, the rejection I thought was imminent.

“Where are you taking me?”

I take a deep breath and let it out, hating that even in death, I can’t hide from the insecurities that weighed me down during my life.

“It’s a surprise,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. I raise my hand to run my fingers through my hair. It’s a nervous habit I’ve had for as long as I can remember, but then I realize I styled it and lower my arm back down awkwardly.

“Oh? I do like surprises,” she tells me, excitement lacing in her tone. I take that bit of info and add it to my remember-to-do list for Hadley. If the girl likes surprises, then I’ll make damn sure she gets them.

“What is the best surprise you got in your life?” I ask her, trying not to let the awkward silence drag us down, determined to get over my shyness and show this girl how much I really am interested in her.

“Well…” She looks up to the sky in thought as we head behind the dorms. Pontem Bridge juts up into the skyline to our left, and to our right is another cluster of trees. A brick path weaves its way through the canopy of leaves, leading to my surprise for her. I pull her along, her heels clicking on the stone as we move.

“Probably the trip to Disney my parents surprised me with for my eighteenth birthday. I even got to bring Ocean along.”

“Like, the ocean?” I question, totally confused.

“No, silly,” she laughs out, slapping my chest with the back of her hand. “Ocean is—was—my best friend on Earth.”

“Weird name for a person,” I mumble before realizing how shitty that sounds. “I’m sorry, Hadley, I didn’t mean anything by that. Ocean is a nice name.”

She huffs. “No, you were right the first time. Ocean is a weird name. I used to call her lake or river to piss her off. And get this.” She licks her lips, and I fantasize about tasting her mouth. Maybe, no, hopefully, I’ll get to by the end of the night.

“Her last name is Waves.” She laughs again, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Ocean Waves. Like, you would think her parents literally hated her or something.”

I laugh with her, unable to help myself. She has one of those contagious laughs, effortless and true, one you can’t help but join when you hear it.

“How did they surprise you with the tickets?” I inquire, eager to learn more about her life before cancer became all she knew, before I became her Reaper.

A smile graces her face, showing off a dazzling set of white teeth behind those plump lips stained red from some kind of gloss.

“With a series of puzzles. I loved puzzles, so they made up this scavenger hunt thingy. Sent me all over town. Each time, I’d find a new clue to a new location. Took me a day to get through them all. Then, the final clue took me back home. On my bed was a giant stuffed Mickey holding a Japanese puzzle box.”

Adding puzzles and scavenger hunts to the Hadley list.

“It took me forever to open it,” she continues as we near the end of the path. “At least two full days of working on it, but I finally got it, and pulled out the tickets inside. It was literally a dream come true for me.”

“Sounds wonderful, Had.” I blanch. “Can-Can I call you Had?”

“Sure. Ocean always did. Makes me feel like a bit of home is here with me. Does that make sense?”

“It does, Had. It does.”

A warm breeze picks up, blowing the scent of the salt water towards us. Hadley’s nostrils flare as she picks up the scent.

“Is-is that—no, it can’t be…”

I smirk to myself and tug her off the stone path and onto a pebbled one. She grips my arm with both hands as her heels sink through the tiny stones.

I’m reveling in my fucking glory right now.

“Here we are,” I say, motioning to the thick tree trunk in front of us.

“Erm…” She shifts her weight and looks around. “It’s a tree, Preston.”

“Not just a tree,” I tease, pulling her around to the backside. A set of stairs wrap around the large trunk leading up to—

“A tree house!” she shouts, jumping up and down while clapping her hands. “Preston, it’s perfect.”

“Just like you,” I murmur, my cheeks heating, worried I might make her uncomfortable. But the smile she gives me in return lets me know I have nothing to worry about.

“But how did it get here?” she asks.

I shrug. “I’m not really sure. There are several of them scattered around the forest. I don’t know if a soul made them or the Academy. But I found this one during my second year and fixed it up.”

“It’s so cool, Preston,” she says, smiling. I’m relieved that she doesn’t think it's lame.

“After you, my lady,” I tell her, gesturing to the stairs.

“You just want to see what kind of underwear I’m wearing, don’t you?” she accuses, placing her hand on her hip. “Let’s hear it, what’s your guess? Come on, out with it.”

“Well, I was hoping you weren’t wearing any,” I respond bravely.

“Preston!” she scolds, holding her hand to her chest in mock horror.

She’s so fucking adorable.

“I am a lady, and ladies don’t go around flaunting their lady parts to the world,” she chides, waving her finger at me before ascending the stairs.

Excitedly, I begin climbing up after her. Her bare ass comes into view, two perfect round globes split by a tiny piece of black, lacy fabric. My cock notices too. Her ass is perfection. Grabbable. Spankable. Taunting me as she climbs.

“I thought you said ladies don’t flaunt their lady parts,” I tease. She stops and turns around, leveling me with a heated gaze that sets me on fire.

“I never said anything about my ass though.” She smirks at me then continues up the steps.

Fuck. This woman is going to be the death of me.

The steps end at a wraparound porch. She walks in a ways, allowing me to glide up beside her. I grab her hand and lead her to the front of the tree house.

Her breath hitches as the ocean comes into view. A beautiful sunset colors the sky in a succulent blend of reds, yellows, and oranges, a stark contrast to the dark blue waters of the ocean below it. Waves crash against the sandy shore, like nature's own song, and birds chirp in the trees, adding to the melody.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” Hadley murmurs, before planting a kiss on my cheek. The spot her lips touch burns, heating my cheeks once more. I might never wash that spot on my face again.

“Come on.” I open the door and tug her inside the tree house. It’s quaint inside, but has everything one would need, especially a soul who needs so much less. Floor to ceiling windows line the front wall, allowing a full view of the ocean from anywhere in the house. Her eyes roam across the tiny kitchenette, running over the back wall to the set of stairs on our right, which leads up to the loft bedroom. A couch rests in the front corner, and there’s a table for two set up in the middle.

A table with a vase full of wildflowers on it. A vase full of wildflowers I know I did not pick.

“Oh, Preston, these are beautiful!” she coos, picking up the card laying against it.

“Oh, umm… I—”

“To Hadley,” she begins, reading it out loud. “I picked these flowers just for you. They are wild and stunning, just like you…” She gives me an “aww” look, holding the card to her chest, then keeps going. “May our first kiss not be our last. Love… Karston?” She looks at me, confused.

First kiss? Fucking Karston.

“I don’t know how he found out, Had,” I admit, flustered, forgetting once again that I fixed my hair and running my fingers through it. “Fucking bastard. He always—”

“Shh,” Hadley hushes me, holding her finger to my lips. “Don’t worry about him, okay?” She removes her finger and picks up the vase, moving it to one of the stairs leading to the loft. “Tonight, it’s just me and you.”

I let out a sigh, some of the tension easing from my shoulders.

“Please, sit down,” I offer, pulling out a chair for her.

“Thank you.” She tucks the nonexistent fabric from her short dress under her ass and sits down. Her bare ass. As I scoot the chair in for her, I think about what I wouldn’t give to be the chair in this moment.

I head over to the kitchenette and open the oven, pulling out a lasagna I’d put in there before I went to get her.

“Smells so fucking good, Pres,” she compliments, licking those plump lips.

“Mom’s recipe,” I tell her, placing the dish on the table. “We had family dinner every Sunday, and it was almost always lasagna.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“It was, until my dad passed away and my mom started dating this asshole Jeremy that—never mind.” I don’t want to ruin tonight by dumping on her about my shitty stepdad. “Care for a glass of wine?”

“Sure!” she responds. “Do you have a white wine?”

“I do.” Tucking the oven mitts back into a drawer, I grab two stemless wine glasses from a cabinet and head over to the minifridge where I’d stashed a bottle of Riesling earlier today.

With finesse, I uncork it and pour us each a glass. I will myself not to trip as I carry the glasses to the table. Successful, I place them down then unbutton my jacket. I notice her eyes on me as I slip it off and hang it on a hook near the door. I roll up my sleeves, exposing my forearms, her gaze tracking the movement as she licks her lips.

Interesting.

Are forearms sexy to a woman?

And if so, do I have sexy man forearms?

Tucking that bit of information into the Hadley file in my brain, I sit down across from her then serve her a piece of lasagna. She waits for me to serve myself before picking up her napkin and laying it across her lap.

Hadley picks up her glass and raises it. I mimic her, clinking my glass against hers.

“To a perfect night, with the sweetest guy in the Afterlife,” she toasts.

“To a perfect night, with the sexiest, smartest, most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Her cheeks redden, and she bites that lower lip again before bringing the glass to her mouth. Her blue eyes catch mine as she takes a sip, her lipstick sticking to the glass after she places it back on the table.

We eat in a silence that’s not awkward for once in my life. Just enjoying the other’s company as much as the meal. My mind does what it always does, wondering if I’m interesting enough to talk to. If my shyness has pushed her away, or if I overdid this whole date thing. But one thing I know for sure by the end of dinner…

I’m falling hard for this girl.

Chapter 22

HADLEY

Sexadorable is definitely the perfect word to describe Preston. He’s not someone I would have gone for in my non dead life, but in this Afterlife, he’s everything I didn’t know I needed.

Wanted.

The muscles in his forearms bunch as he cuts his food. I don’t know why, but I’ve always had a thing for forearms on a guy.

Add a watch or some bracelets to his wrist, and my lady parts—damn you, Aggie—clench in excitement.

I can feel my cheeks flush as I polish off my third glass of wine. Preston moves to refill it once more, but I hold up a hand to stop him.

“No more, or I won’t be able to walk back to the dorms tonight,” I tell him.

He smirks.

“Who says you were going home, anyway?” My jaw drops at his forwardness. Seems the wine has gotten to him too.

“No?” Two can play at this game. “Well then. What did you have in mind for the rest of the night?”

His cheeks flame. So fucking cute. “I have… plans,” he chokes out.

“Do you now?” I blot at my lips with my napkin as he pushes out his chair.

“Let’s start with a dance,” he suggests, offering me his hand. This ought to be good. Both of us have two left feet. “Trust me.”

“Okay…” I accept his hand and allow him to pull me to my feet. I stagger just a bit, the combination of high heeled shoes and three glasses of wine are not a good mix. “Hang on a sec.” I plop my ass down on the couch and lower my arms to unbuckle my shoes.

“Allow me,” he says, kneeling at my feet.

“Have at it,” I tell him. I mean, who am I to tell a guy, a sexy guy, who wants to touch my feet, no?

Like he’s done it a hundred times, Preston slides the straps from the buckles then slips my shoes off my feet. “There, how's that?” he asks proudly.

I give my toes a little wiggle. “Much better.”

He flashes me one of his award-winning smiles, the one that shows off his dimples, and pulls me to my feet. He takes me to the balcony overlooking the ocean before pulling a remote out of his pocket. Music begins playing after he presses a series of buttons.

Slow music.

“This might come as a surprise to you, but I’ve always been a great dancer,” he informs me. “Just follow my lead.”

Preston grabs my right hand in his left and places his other on my hip, while I grip his shoulder with my free one. Then we begin to sway. I struggle at first, but then he encourages, “Relax, Had. Feel the music. Let it flow through you. Just close your eyes and see where it takes you.”

I take a deep breath then close my eyes, allowing the music to guide me like he said. Before I know it, I’m dancing. Not just dancing, but swaying in time to the music.

“You’re doing it!” he says proudly. “See. I knew you had it in you!”

I open my eyes to see him practically beaming down at me. His dark hair falls over one green eye. I lift my hand from his shoulder and brush it away, the small gesture causing him to shudder.

“Thanks to you,” I whisper, my throat clogged with emotion. He pulls me into his chest, and I tuck my head under his chin. He plants a kiss on top of my head, and I almost fucking melt right then and there.

“Hadley?” he says tentatively.

“Yeah?” I pull myself off his chest and look up at him, his hooded gaze lighting me on fire. It takes all the restraint I have not to rub my thighs together to quench the ache between them.

I can tell he wants to kiss me by the way his eyes trail over my lips when I lick them. But he’s too scared to make the first move.

Fuck it.

Reaching up, I thread my fingers into his hair and bring his lips down to mine. He groans the moment our mouths touch, and his hands trail down my back to cup my ass. I pry at his lips with my tongue until he opens for me. His mouth tastes sweet, like the wine he served me, making me thirst for more.

My free hand slides down his abdomen, and I slip my fingers under the waistband of his dress pants.

“Hadley,” he rasps against my lips as he pulls free of the kiss. I take that as an invitation to continue and slip my hand deeper inside his pants until his hardness is in my palm. I give the base a squeeze before I slide my fingers up and down his shaft, tracing the head with a fingertip.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back.

I couldn’t agree more.

I remove my hand so I can take off his pants properly.

“Take off your shirt, Preston,” I tell him, as I sink to my knees and unbuckle his belt. My wine addled brain thinks of some naughty things I’d like to do with his belt, but I’ll save those for another time.

His hands shake as he fiddles with the buttons.

Is he nervous?

Anxious?

Am I pushing this shy man too far?

“Are you okay, Preston?” I ask, not wanting to make him do anything he’s not ready for.

“Yeah. It’s just—Umm. I’m—Umm…”

The light bulb turns on in my head. Why didn’t I realize this before?

“You’re a vir—”

“Please don’t say it,” he whispers, shoulders slumping. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, sliding his fingers through his hair. “Well, I suppose you want to go back to your dorm now.”

He moves to step away from me, but I grip his pants, stopping him.

“No. I don’t. In fact, it’s hurting my feelings that you think I’d be so fucking shallow.”

His eyes widen, mouth dropping open.

“Hadley, I would never want to hurt your feelings. I was just trying to save you—”

“From what, Preston?” I stand, my voice rising. “From getting to know a really nice guy? A guy who looks past my scars, likes who I am, and isn’t shy about letting others know? I mean, fuck.” I gesture towards the tree house. “You made me dinner. You took me to a fucking tree house. You wore a damn suit. I’ve never gone on a date this amazing before. I’ll be damned if I allow you to end it because you’re a bit inexperienced. ‘Cause you know what, Pres? I’ve got enough experience for the both of us.”

Ignoring his presumption that I wouldn’t want him, I make quick work of his belt and toss it behind me. I glance up at him, wanting to see consent on his face before I move on to his pants. He gives me an almost imperceptible nod, his bright eyes watching, his gaze heated.

In one move, I unbutton his pants with one hand and unzip them with the other before sliding the fabric down his legs as I drop to my knees before him. I’m happy to see boxer briefs hugging his package. Yes, I have a thing for boxer briefs on a man. Don’t judge me. His cock isn’t as shy as his brain and strains proudly at the cotton fabric.

Good boy.

My fingers slip around the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, and I slowly pull them down his legs, freeing his cock from its prison.

It’s perfect, with just a dusting of black hair above it.

Not too big, not too small. Enough girth so it will fill my pussy without causing pain. Veins run along the shaft to the slightly darker head, and a pair of cleanly shaved balls hang low behind it.

I love it when a guy manscapes properly. I know he said he was shy, but he clearly prepared for me tonight. Glad I did too.

Gripping the base of his cock with one hand, I bring it to my mouth and circle the head with my tongue. Preston shudders in response. I glance up at him and watch his reaction as I take him inside my warm mouth. His eyes close, his lips open slightly, and a deep groan leaves his throat.

I slide deeper down his shaft, hitting my fingers with my lips, then pull back slowly. I repeat that a few times before removing my hand and gripping his thighs as I swallow him down.

“Fuck,” he rasps out.

Damn right.

Over and over, I take him to the hilt, his head bumping into the back of my throat as I will myself not to gag. I can feel his cock grow longer, thicker, the more I work him.

His hand cradles the back of my head, but doesn’t control my actions as I bob up and down on his cock, hollowing out my cheeks as I suck him. Then, I cup his balls and fondle them, adding to his pleasure, heightening his sensations.

“Fuck, Hadley. I’m-I’m gonna—”

I slide his cock out of my mouth with a pop. “No, you’re not,” I threaten. He looks down at me, bewildered. “There are better places to deposit your little men.” I stand and take a few steps back, then slip my hands under my dress and pull down my thong. I twirl the black, laced fabric around my finger before tossing it in his face.

He catches it and brings the fabric to his nose, taking a deep inhale, a euphoric look crossing over his face.

I don’t know why, but that completely turns me on, and I feel my pussy clench and my nipples tighten.

“Now, follow me.” I’m in my element, sex brings out my confidence. Something I know I’m good at.

Turning around, I slowly make my way up the stairs to the loft, well aware of the show I’m giving him behind me as I walk up the steps with no panties on.

Finally, I get to the top, which is surprisingly spacious for a tree house. A queen-sized bed rests against the far wall, complete with pillows and a fluffy comforter. Nightstands with lamps sit on either side, and a skylight above the bed allows the night’s sky to shine down upon us.

I walk in a bit farther and allow Preston to come up the rest of the stairs. I turn to face him, and my breath catches. His hair is all disheveled, and his green eyes are staring at me with hooded lids. He still wears his shirt, but it’s unbuttoned all the way, giving me an excellent view of his toned body and bobbing cock. A smirk plays on my lips. Seems shy Preston left his pants downstairs in his haste to follow me up here.

I strut over to him and pull him into a kiss. Softly. Gently. I take my time, kissing and licking his velvet lips until they open and allow my tongue entrance. Our kiss deepens as I slide the shirt off his shoulders, baring him completely. I run my hands along his toned back, caressing every dip of muscles as I trail my fingers up and down his spine. His hands are unsure, one holding my shoulder, while the other rests on my hip.

My tongue probes further, tasting him, swirling around his.

Fuck, I need this man.

“Take my dress off, Preston,” I encourage, pressing my chest against his body. His hands are a bit clumsy, feeling around my back for a zipper. But he finally finds it and tugs the metal down until it opens completely.

I shimmy out of my dress, letting it pool at my feet, and take off my own damn bra, ‘cause let’s be real, guys struggle with bras. And to a guy like Preston, it would be like trying to solve the hardest math equation on the planet.

I grab his hands and place them on my breasts.

“Touch me,” I whisper. He groans as his hands feel around, testing the weight before rubbing his thumbs over my nipples. “Go on, you can’t hurt them.” He gives my tits a squeeze, and I moan into his mouth. He groans back and rolls my nipples between his fingers.

“That feels so good, Pres.” As he works my tits, I grip his cock and stroke the length. My pussy pulses and my clit throbs as he tweaks my tips into hardened peaks. He doesn’t know how soft or hard to play, so he’s a bit heavy handed. But I don’t mind, I’ve always enjoyed it more rough than others.

“Fuck,” I rasp when he pulls my nipples out from my body before letting them slip through his fingers. I can feel that my inner thighs are already wet from my arousal. I don’t know why, but my nipples have always been like an on switch for my pussy.

“Lay down on the bed, Preston,” I order, stepping away from him. He looks me up and down, his roaming eyes stopping at my nipples before landing on my bare slit.

“Like what you see?” I question. I give my tits a squeeze then tweak my nipples before sliding one hand down my body and dipping my finger between my pussy lips.

“Fuck,” he groans, gripping his cock in his hand.

“Stroke yourself, Preston. I want to see you touch yourself.”

He does, running his hand up and down his length, his actions becoming quicker as he watches me play with myself. I circle my clit faster, bringing myself almost to orgasm, but I stop right before I crest.

“Lay down, Pres. I need you.” My voice has dropped an octave, becoming throaty and needy.

He practically runs to the bed and bumps his knees into the frame. He gives me a sheepish look, and I have to stifle a laugh. It’s just so Preston.

When he finally manages to climb up uninjured, he lays down on his back and looks down the bed at me. I crawl up his body from the end of the bed, running my hands up his legs and along sculpted abs to his chest, then I sit up on my knees and give him a view of my body. I’ve never had a perfect body, but after seeing what cancer did to me when I was alive, I am embracing my new self, my healthy self.

I run my fingers through my luscious hair, thankful to have any since I was bald only weeks ago. I squeeze my tits, and splay my fingers down my slight belly, which was nothing but skin and bones while the disease had me in its grasp. Cancer taught me many things, but most importantly, it taught me to be grateful, to not take anything for granted.

“Ready?” I ask, as I grip his cock and slide it along my slit, lubricating it with my own wetness.

“Yes, Hadley.” His voice is low and filled with desire. “I’ve never been more ready in my whole life—or death.”

He smiles up at me with a flush on his cheeks that makes me want to just melt.

I bite my lip and line him up with my entrance, then let go as I sink down, taking inch by glorious inch of him inside me. Preston’s eyes roll back into his head, and he arches his neck, throwing his head back on the pillows.

It has been so long since I’ve had sex with something other than my vibrators. I no longer even had a sex drive towards the end of my life.

Feeling a man’s cock harden in my hands, his eyes hooded with lust, just for me. It’s empowering, a feeling I’ve not had in so long.

I bring Preston’s hands to my chest as I start to move my hips. He groans and bites his lip while he plays with my tits and tugs at my nipples. My pussy clenches on his cock, and my clit pulses.

I move my hips faster, using my legs to gain speed as I chase my orgasm. It grows deep in my belly, heating my entire body. I lean back on his legs, supporting myself with one hand, and reach down to play with my clit as I change from grinding to bouncing.

Yes, that’s it.

From this angle, his cock bumps into my g-spot, causing my body to ignite.

“Fuck. Had, I’m-I’m gonna—”

“Not yet. Just one more minute.”

He groans as I work my clit faster, bouncing harder, taking every inch of him inside me until I can’t hang on another moment.

“Now!” I shout.

“Oh, God!” he yells, before an elongated groan pulls from his lips. The moment his cum floods my pussy, I crest as well. My vision going white as pleasure thrums through my veins.

Yet, I still fuck him. I ride out my orgasm like a surfer on a wave in the ocean until I’m finally spent.

With perspiration coating our skin, I grab a box of kleenex from the nightstand and clean myself, then clean him, before cuddling beside him. He wraps his arms around me, tugging my back into his front.

“Thank you,” he whispers into my ear before placing a kiss on my cheek.

“You don’t have to thank me, Preston. It was—”

“Perfect,” he finishes for me.

I look above our heads through the skylight. The moon is high in the sky, and the stars twinkle around it.

A yawn takes me, and my eyes suddenly feel heavy. I snuggle in closer to the sweet man behind me and let sleep pull me under, happier than I have been in months.

Chapter 23

AUSTON

Sitting behind the desks in Heaven makes my ass hurt. I was not meant for administrative bullshit. That’s why I was chosen to be a Guardian. So why it’s expected of me to do twenty hours a month like fucking community service is beyond me.

Sure, it’s cool to actually be in Heaven. The pearly gates were on my Afterlife bucket list. But after that, it loses its luster. Because it’s not like I’m in Heaven, enjoying the carefree life, my past indiscretions forgiven.

Nope.

I’m pushing paper like a plow pushes snow.

My eyes lose focus, and I glance at the clock, waiting for the final minutes of this hell to pass. The squat Angel, Miss Nettle, at the front of the class glares at us through her horn-rimmed glasses. The bitch is just jealous. She’ll never have wings or a halo. All she gets is a white robe and maybe her bow and arrow.

But to earn that you have to be a skilled shot. Even in the Afterlife, souls can be injured—even killed—by an Angel’s arrow. We learned recently in Advanced Guardian’s Practices that, essentially, souls have an essence that can be lost, permanently throwing souls into the void of unending darkness with no hope of returning. Although things are much more sinister if the Darkness gets hold of them...

Chimes ring through the air, signifying our time is done here. I toss the last of my papers into my slot next to Miss Nettle’s desk and open the door in the back of the room. Below is nothing but a white haze, no land, just bright white fog.

I dive head first and spread out my wings, soaring through the dense vapor that leads away from Heaven. It was quite unnerving the first time I dropped through the clouds with no idea if I was going up or down. But now I just close my eyes and allow the winds to take me through the portal back to the Academy. Crazy thing, this portal. You can’t fly there, nor does anyone know its location.

For all intents and purposes, it doesn’t exist.

A warmth surrounds me when I enter the portal, the white clouds disappearing into a starlit funnel. You might think you were floating inside if not for that feeling in your gut. The one you get when your movement doesn’t correspond with what you see, giving you a nauseated feeling. Like when you ride a 3-D ride at a theme park.

The other crazy thing about this portal is you never know where it will drop you. Could be in the middle of a random classroom. Could be smack in the middle of the vast ocean at the edge of Afterworld Academy. If you were quite unlucky, you may even be dropped right in the middle of a weird sexual encounter between Mr. Buttox and that old, inappropriate woman who dorms with Hadley.

Yeah, that happened.

She had on a cowboy hat and assless chaps. Mr. Buttox was crawling around on the floor, neighing and pawing at the air with a pair of fake ears on. The old woman tried to corral him with a lasso while calling, “Mama wants to ride her stallion.”

I had to bleach my eyes that night.

And every night after for the following week.

Now she winks at me when no one else is looking, giving me her gummy smile as she twirls her imaginary lasso above her head, or she whispers, “Hey there, stallion,” as she passes by.

I dry heave every fucking time.

The warmth from the vortex recedes, signifying I’m about to be dropped. A pop sounds, and before I have a chance to stop it, I’m falling through the night’s sky and into a canopy of trees. Branches cut my skin as I hurtle towards the ground before landing in an Angel heap of falling feathers and leaves.

Once my head stops spinning, I stand, brush the dirt off my pants, and get my bearings. I’m in the middle of one of the sections of woods surrounding the Academy. Question is… which one?

The sound of the ocean reaches my ears, and I realize I’m in the North Woods. I glance above me and see Preston’s refurbished tree house behind me. I head towards it, knowing there’s a pathway leading back to the Academy near it, but I freeze when I hear a snap.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and my halo glows above my head, illuminating the forest around me. I narrow my eyes and search through the darkness when I hear a thud. Calling upon my bow and arrow, they appear—the bow in my hand and quiver of arrows across my back.

I grab one and nock it, aiming my arrowhead towards the noises. Then I notice the insects that usually grace the night with their music are silent. Someone—or something—was here before me.

I sneak towards the noise, my halo lighting the way.

Thud.

I turn quickly to my right and start jogging, my dead heart racing inside my chest. My halo glows brighter as my apprehension grows.

And that’s when I see it.

A body.

Dangling from a rope slung high in the branches, thudding against the side of a tree as it sways in the wind.

* * *

After I’d discovered the body, I raced back to the Academy and woke Mrs. Celeste to tell her what I’d found. She immediately took me to Administer’s office where I had to relay what I’d seen to a panel of professors, mostly Demons now that I think about it. They kept me up nearly all night asking me questions before I was allowed to go to bed.

Unfortunately, sleep was not my friend. I kept trying to forget what I saw, but the image of the corpse bashing against the side of the tree, his open eyes haunting and unseeing, was burned into the backs of my eyelids. So sitting here in class today is a struggle. I’m completely exhausted, my eyelids droopy as I struggle to keep them open. I curse the need for sleep even though I’m dead. That should have been more thought out by the Fates.

At least we get to sit on couches in Mrs. Celeste’s third year class, Angel’s 301, which is located at the tip of a turret in the Afterworld Academy. Angels do like their comfort, all that flying through the clouds surrounded by soft feathers will do that to a person.

Even though I’ll never admit that.

“Hey, stallion,” I hear whispered near my ear as the DDs enter through the door.

Dry heave.

I grumble, but ignore the old woman and distract myself by putting my long, white hair up into a ponytail.

“Hey, Auston.” Now that’s a voice I want to hear. Sweet, just like the girl it belongs to.

“Hey, yourself,” I respond, patting the seat next to me. “Big day today. You ready to try out those wings again?”

“Urg,” Hadley complains, flopping down on the seat next to me. I’m so tired I can’t even appreciate how pretty she is.

A yawn takes hold of me, and I reach my arms above my head, stretching my wings out behind me. I peek at Hadley from my slitted lids and see her eyes watching my arms and wings. I make sure to give my biceps an extra flex as I clasp my hands in front of me.

“Long night?” she asks me sweetly.

“You have no idea.”

Thud.

I jump up and look around me, eyes peeled for the swaying body. But there’s nothing here I need to be concerned with besides the fact that all eyes are on me.

“Sorry,” a young DD apologizes, picking up his dropped book from the floor.

I frown and sit back down.

A hand touches my shoulder, and I jerk again, but it’s only Hadley.

Get control of yourself, man.

“Auston, what’s up with you?” Concern laces her voice, but how do I tell her, knowing what she’s seen?

“I—”

“Class, may I have your attention, please?” Mrs. Celeste cuts me off, saving me from having to either lie or tell Hadley the truth.

The conversations floating about the classroom die down as everyone waits to see what’s in store for us today.

“Dearly Departeds, today is the first day of your training with the Guardians. Unlike what you think you may know about being an Angel, I can assure you, Guardians are much different. Chosen to look out for and protect humans from an early demise, Guardians are entrusted with the very lives of their charges. This is not something to be taken lightly.”

She gives a stern look at the boy who dropped his book.

“Take care to listen to your mentors. Do as they tell you. And if a few of you show the proclivity and the fortitude to hold the lives of others in your hands, you may just earn your wings.”

Hadley blanches at the mention of wings.

She should.

Her flight skills have been less than adequate. Although, if Preston didn’t insist on accompanying her to every fucking session of flight training, I have a feeling she’d be less distracted.

Now that I think about it, why have I allowed him to be there? I should have forced him to leave us alone. I don’t barge in on her training with him. Learning how to fly isn’t easy. And his presence is hindering her advancement.

“Jake, will you please pass out the elixir to the DDs?” Mrs. Celeste gestures to a tray containing the fake wing potion. Jake grumbles but gets up and does as he’s told, which is surprising. Jake usually jumps at the chance to be combative. Makes me wonder how he fooled the Fates into making him a Guardian in the first place.

Jake turns around with the tray in his hands, and I notice that he looks as bad as I feel. His eyes are all red, his hair disheveled. His clothes are even mismatched.

Hadley takes the elixir off the tray and gives me a pleading look. I shrug my shoulders, but give her an understanding smile. It sucks, but she needs to take it if she wants to come down to Earth with me.

She uncaps it and plugs her nose, downing it in one gulp.

“Yuck,” she exclaims, sticking her little pink tongue out in disgust. Even with that nasty potion on her lips, I still want to taste them.

A shudder racks through her body as white, iridescent wings form on her back. It’s still odd to see wings protruding from material and not from skin as they do on us Guardians. Angels and Demons must always wear racerback tank tops, allowing our wings to have the freedom they need.

Hadley and the other DDs tentatively flap their wings, almost like a practice swing, getting acclimated to the weight of them on their backs. Just wait until they feel the real thing someday. I almost toppled over when mine first appeared.

Mrs. Celeste gets up and heads to the back wall, all eyes following her as she does. She grabs the long chain hanging down from the ceiling and tugs, moving the tapestry depicting a Guardian nocking his bow and arrow to the right. In doing so, she reveals the hidden door behind woven fabric, a portal that leads back to Earth.

“DDs, mentors, line up against the wall in your pairs. DDs, hang on to your Guardian before you enter the portal.”

I’m nervous how this is going to work when she sees who we’ve been charged with Guarding, but when she threads her fingers between mine, I only feel a sense of relief.

I give her hand a squeeze, forgetting about the horrors of last night, and think about how good it feels to touch her. I can’t stop myself from bringing her hand to my lips and placing a chaste kiss on the back of it.

She allows it, a crimson flush covering her cheeks as she pulls that plump lower lip into her mouth.

God, she’s beautiful.

But I need to push my feelings for her aside. She is here to learn, and I’m in charge of protecting her while we do so.

“Ready?” I ask, glancing down at her.

“Yep.”

“Okay, don’t let go.”

The pair in front of us, Layla and her mentor, jump into the darkness beyond the door.

“On the count of three, we step through.” She nods in understanding. “One.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Two.” She squeezes my hand tightly in hers. “Three!”

She holds her breath as we step off the ledge. We free fall through the darkness, just like when I leave Heaven, but unlike the vortex leading back to the Academy, this one I can control.

In my mind’s eye, I picture the length of freeway running through Sandy Creek.

“Stretch out your wings, but don’t let go of my hand,” I tell Hadley as the stretch of road comes into view. “Now, fly!” She struggles at first, her wings moving at opposite times. But as I beat mine in a regular pattern, her fake ones begin to mimic mine.

“I’m doing it!” she almost screams. But the excitement quickly wears off when she notices her surroundings.

“Are… Are we in Sandy Creek?”

“We are,” I confirm.

“You know I lived here when I was alive.”

“Did you?” I feign surprise. I’m not quite sure I’m ready for her to know my role in her previous life.

The pull to my human steers me in the right direction. We veer off the path and head over a corn field. It’s the beginning of summer on Earth and the corn is growing rapidly.

“I know this place,” Hadley comments. Her eyes narrow as the rest of the farm comes into view. The bright blue hair of my charge is visible while her father is mowing the vast amount of grass in their fields with his headphones on.

Distracted, he’s completely unaware of my charge, who’s stuck in a length of wire right in his path. She’s screaming, her blue hair flying around her head, but her dad can’t hear her.

“Oh my God,” Hadley chokes out. “It can’t be.”

“Narrow your wings, Had, we’ve got to dive to save her.”

I tuck my wings in close to my body, and she does the same as we soar through the air. We land near my charge, but she doesn’t notice. The living can’t see us unless we allow them to.

“What do we do?” Hadley screams, tears streaming down her face. “She can’t die like this.”

“We dig.”

As our blue-haired human tugs at her leg, Hadley and I move the Earth around it until she pulls herself free. Of course I have other means to save her, but I need Hadley to feel the adrenaline rush that allows us to complete our jobs.

The riding lawn mower closes in on us.

Ten feet.

Five feet.

“No!” Hadley shouts, making herself tangible with surprising quickness and pushing the girl out of the way. The human stumbles out of the path of the mower just in time. Hadley rushes over to her and moves to place her hand on her face, but it passes through as she becomes invisible once more.

“Ocean. Ocean, it’s me,” she tells the trembling girl. “You’re safe.”

Ocean stills, her eyes looking frantically around as Hadley drops her hand. Ocean reaches up and touches her cheek where Hadley’s hand just was.

“I miss you,” she whispers before tears fall from her eyes. “I know it was you who saved me. I can smell your chapstick, Had.” A smile crosses her face even as she cries. “Thank you.”

Chapter 24

Hadley

My mind continues to reel after the revelation that Auston has been watching over Ocean. Seeing my best friend again…

Having her acknowledge me…

It feels like I’m floating directly above a sword, just waiting for my body to drop and be impaled by the blade.

I miss Ocean something fierce. Her witty banter. Her younger brother River, who could never pronounce my name, so ended up calling me “Ha.” Her hillbilly parents who were determined for us to marry the brothers across the street.

It’s been days since I’ve seen Ocean, since I saved her from the tractor. The week felt unnaturally long and daunting, making it difficult to concentrate on my studies. When the mentor rotation bounced back to Preston, I barely acknowledged him.

I was a shell of myself. Seeing Ocean reminded me of all I had lost—my life, for one.

But when Preston took my hand and brought it to his lips, butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I began to think of all I'd gained. Him. We may be dead, but he made me feel more alive than I'd ever felt before. When we'd joined together, his body under mine and his intense, mossy green eyes staring up at me, I melted. I adored everything about him. The planes of his chest, which was surprisingly muscled and sculpted. His silky smooth hair that couldn't be tamed no matter what he did. His cock that was a perfect contrast of hard and soft...

I never knew a cock could feel so good. I'm not a virgin, not by a long shot, but none of the other guys I'd been with made me feel as good as Preston did. He was inexperienced, yes, but he was the only man who had stared at me with such...love in his eyes.

I know it's way too soon to be throwing those words around, but something emanates from his eyes whenever he stares at me. Something warm and heady. Something I can’t define but sends pinpricks of pleasure skating down my spine.

Movement pulls me out of my reflections and I glance up to see my Demon professor, Dominic, standing in front of a gaping black hole.

We’re outside, the bright sun heating my skin. Dominic has brought us to the South Forest where we have stopped at a locked shed. After using his keys on the padlock, the walls cave in, falling backwards until they hit the ground on all four sides. We now find ourselves staring at a black hole in the center of the weedy ground.

A literal hole to Hell.

It churns rapidly like a toilet after it’s been flushed, bubbling slightly. My tongue turns to sandpaper in my mouth.

I know Demons have more...practical ways of teleporting to Hell, but us Dearly Departeds are forced to travel the old-fashioned way. In this case, jumping into darkness.Hell to the fucking no.

Literally.

“You will stay with your class the entire trip,” Dominic demands curtly. He clasps his hands behind his back, raising to his full height. His beautiful black wings flap slightly, emitting a gust of wind that blows my hair from my face. “Do not go off the main trail. Do not talk to the Demons. Do not look for the lost souls. If you do, you will become lost in Hell and burn up in Hell’s fire. Any questions?”

Well...that sounds terrifying.

“I don’t want to do this,” Layla whispers from beside me. “I much prefer working with my Reaper mentor. I’m good at that...good at helping the souls understand what’s happening to them.”

Last week, when we were training with our Reaper mentors, they’d allowed us to take charge of a soul. My soul was a middle-aged woman named Tabby.

“Um...I’m Hadley. I’m going to be your Reaper.”

“Am I dead?” Tabby sobbed, her hands snaking around her waist as if she wanted to hold herself together. “Oh my gawd, did I die?”

Oh my gawd? Who says that anymore? Especially a forty-year-old woman.

“Yes?” It came out as a question, and I glanced at Preston over my shoulder. He nodded at me encouragingly before dropping his gaze back to my ass, his eyes lighting up with lust and wanton desire. Now that we’d had sex, he had been...insatiable. Sneaking kisses here and there. Plunging his fingers into my pussy. In all honesty, I liked this side of Preston. If I was Aggie, I would say something about him making my motor rev.

“I can’t be dead! I can’t be! I still have so much to live for!”

“Well...I’m sorry.” I tried to infuse gentleness into my tone. “But we really need to get your soul to the Judgment Hall.”

“No, I’m not dead! You’re lying!” Tabby threw her hands in the air before leveling me with a piercing glare.

“Come on. Let’s go.” My already thin patience was waning. I crossed my arms over my chest, my foot tapping with increasing speed as the seconds dragged on and she continued to sob.

“Gentle,” Preston whispered, exaggeratedly rocking an invisible baby in his arms.

What the fuck?

“I’m gentle,” I hissed back.

“What?” Tabby glanced between me and Preston. “I’m not going anywhere, especially with you.” The last statement was sneered in my direction.

“Why you—”

“Okayyyyy.” Preston placed his hand on my shoulder and pushed me behind him. “I’ll take over from here.” He flashed Tabby a disarmingly charming smile before extending a hand. “I’m Preston. I know you’re confused, but…”

It took him less than two minutes.

Fucking show off.

Afterwards, Preston pulled me into his arms and kissed me senseless. He could be a showoff all he wanted if that was the reaction I was going to get.

Smiling at the memory, I come back to the present just as Dominic claps his hands together.

“Who’s first?”

Aggie raises a hand in the air.

“If I go first, can I ride your stallion and spank that tight ass of yours,” she questions seriously. Dominic’s eyes widen slightly, almost imperceptibly, and his hands go to cover said ass. Of course, that just draws the crazy old woman’s gaze to it, and she quite literally stalks around him like a lion hunting a gazelle.

Dominic clears his throat and raises his chin imperiously.

“There will be no ass spanking in this class,” he states in a stern tone. Of course, that makes me giggle, and he turns in my direction, flashing me a wink.

“Alright. Who’s first?” He claps his hands together once more, ignoring Aggie who’s on her hands and knees, her tongue hanging out as she pretends to lick him. Well, lick his asshole.

Layla and I exchange a look, and she nods her head once. Together, we step closer, our hands instinctively interlocking. Dominic glances at us, a wide smile brewing on his face.

“Wonderful. Your Demon mentors will meet you on the other side. Ready, ladies?”

Layla and I glance at each other one last time. When she nods resolutely, I grit my teeth and face the hole. It almost seems to shimmer, as if there is an entire galaxy within its depths. I’m terrified I’ll become lost in it. Circling and fumbling like I’m stuck in a riptide. Drowning.

“On the count of three,” Layla says softly, for my ears only. “One. Two.”

Before she can get to three, I jump into the hole. She lets out a screech as I yank her after me.

Oops.

It feels like...slime. Gross, disgusting slime that seeps along my skin.

In only moments, we are expelled into what appears to be a...volcano? No, not a volcano.

Hell.

Rocks create the cavernous room, roughly strewn on top of one another. Molten lava drips from the gray stone like water on cave walls. We’re standing on a flat surface, which is an onyx color, with fire surrounding us. Flames lick the edges, a turbulent force I can’t entirely understand. It almost appears as if there are waves in the fire, cresting against the stony walls.

The heat is suffocating, and sweat runs down my body, causing my Academy uniform to stick to me as if I’d jumped in the shower with all my clothes on. I can feel my hair kinking up. So much for the great hair day I was having earlier.

“Holy shit,” Layla murmurs in awe. And terror. I have a healthy dose of both as well.

Large bat wings flap nearby, a swarm of them, and a moment later, we’re surrounded by Demons. The third years are covered in soot and dirt, with sweat sticking their hair to their foreheads. Could Demons even get hot in Hell? Heaven only knew—ignore the pun—that Dearly Departeds could. Sweat clings to my skin, my face, and my clothes, until I’m sure I’m a sopping wet mess.

Braxton breaks away from the Demons to stand in front of me, his eyes carefully and almost analytically tracing over my body. His brows furrow, lips pursing.

“You look different,” he comments harshly.

Of course, at that second, Aggie happens to fall through the portal. She wipes imaginary dust off her shoulders while giving my Demon a suggestive once-over.

“She’s glowing, isn’t she?” the old bitch purrs. I subtly shake my head, and Layla goes as far as to grab her arm, pulling her back. Of course, Aggie is oblivious. I honestly don’t think she’s intentionally malicious...just a little too far in right field, if you know what I mean. “Good sex can do that to you. I remember back in my day—” While she reminisces to Layla about her teenage years, Braxton glares down at me. Dozens of emotions flitter across his handsome face. Anger. Hurt. Jealousy. Pain. They appear and disappear in rapid succession before he settles on the easiest: anger.

I understand that. It’s easier to be angry than actually show any other emotion.

“You had sex? With who?” he whisper-shouts at me.

Despite the pain in his eyes, his words make my hackles rise. Who does he think he is?

“What the fuck is your problem?” I whisper back, wiping the sweat from my brow. “You don’t have any right to ask me that.”

Once more, his eyes flash with an emotion that he quickly tries to conceal. He grinds his jaw, teeth gnashing together. “Was it with my brothers?”

Does he mean all of them?

“Again, that’s none of your business,” I retort, trying to keep my voice low. Even while I say that, my hands scrub at my arms instinctively. Shit. If my words don’t give it away, my reaction will.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Again, something crosses his face.

This time, I’m not sure I gauged it correctly. It almost appears to be...lust? But that’s impossible. I immediately dismiss it.

Why would the big, bad, sexy Demon get turned on by the thought of me with his brothers?

Dominic materializes beside us just as the final Dearly Departed falls through the ceiling. I can see the same awe and terror I feel reflected on the others’ faces.

“Today, we’re going to discuss a Demon’s job. Not only do they keep the unruly souls in line, but they also help corral the escaped souls and monsters,” Dominic begins as he walks in front of our group. Braxton stands beside me, his back rigid. Taut, like the strings on a violin. He doesn’t glance my way despite my repeated attempts to make eye contact.

So be it. If he wants to act like a big man baby, then I’ll treat him like one.

With a huff, I sidle up beside Layla and link my arm through hers. She glances at me in surprise before turning towards her Demon mentor. He’s a handsome man about my age with the customary black hair all Demons have, and his eyes sparkle like chips of obsidian. He nods at me in greeting before moving back to stand beside Braxton.

“Want me to kick his ass?” Layla leans in to whisper, casting inconspicuous glances at Braxton over her shoulder. Her pretty eyes narrow suddenly, hinting that they may have made awkward eye contact. Hearing my sweet friend threaten the asshole Demon is definitely the highlight of this field trip.

“Nah,” I whisper back. “I’ll just kick his ass instead.”

Or kiss it.

Dammit! Now I sound like Aggie. They should’ve never roomed us together to begin with.

“Take Hellhounds, for instance,” Dominic continues, cutting into our conversation. He prowls over a black stone bridge, head raised and handsome body adorned in a black suit and white cufflinks. He looks as if he should be giving a lecture in front of a class at some esteemed college for the elite, not prowling the roads of Hell. “Hellhounds are formed from the Hellfire deep within. There’s no rhyme or reason for their creation, only that they appear and wreak havoc on the material plane. Only one creature has the power to control them.”

“Lucifer?” a younger male, Josh, asks tentatively. Dominic’s lips press into a thin line.

“No.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, but I notice the Demons exchange anxious looks. Fucking Jake’s description of the Darkness comes back to me. Could that be what he was talking about?

I try to look over my shoulder at Braxton, try to meet his eyes, but he’s deep in conversation with Layla’s mentor, his eyes continuously scanning the shadows of Hell as if he expects a Hellhound to attack at any moment.

“And there are some creatures we don’t understand. They lurk in Hell’s bowels, waiting for a chance to climb to the surface,” Dominic says ominously. “That’s actually the job of third and fourth year students—hunting these creatures. Killing them. We don’t exactly understand where they’re from, and the Fates have been silent.” Once more, his teeth grind together. Layla, beside me, stiffens slightly, arms crossing over her chest and foot tapping.

A few things stick with me.

First, what the hell are these creatures? So terrifying that even Dominic looks shaken... And why would they have students hunt them instead of full-blown Demons?

Second, he spoke as if the word “Fates” was capitalized. As if it represented real people. It wasn’t the first time they were referred to that way. Are Fates real? I had thought them to be a metaphysical entity. An expression, perhaps, not people who actually existed.

My mind and stomach somersaults, attempting to wrap my head around all of this new information.

I pull Layla’s hand until we’re at the back of the group. Braxton glances at me, bemused, before quickly looking away. He walks a few paces in front of me, and a Demon girl says something to him. He flashes her a smile, a smile that he hasn’t given me since I arrived in Hell’s anus, and my heart thumps. Jealousy ricochets through me.

“You okay?” Layla asks softly, giving my arm a squeeze, as we follow Dominic through the mazes of Hell.

“Just trying to understand what Dominic said. Do you think it has something to do with the Darkness?” I lower my voice to a whisper, and I know Layla’s thinking of the conversation with Jake.

“I don’t know.” She gives me a sheepish smile. “I wasn’t really paying attention. Honestly, this Demon crap is so boring. I think I’m better suited to be a Reaper or an Angel.”

“I can see that.” I flash her a genuine smile. She was my first friend at the Academy and has quickly become my best. She won’t ever replace Ocean, but the bond we share is different. A bond forged from similar trauma and pain. A bond forged from death itself. “You’re kind and patient. Much kinder than me.”

She whacks my shoulder.

“That’s not true! And you have something going for you that I don’t.” At this, her expression turns sly.

“And what’s that?”

“Lots of cocks!”

If I was drinking, I would’ve spit it out everywhere in a comedic spit take.

“Damn, girl!” I sputter out. She giggles.

“It’s true! All the cocks, Had. Do you even know what to do with that many? Do you have enough holes?”

The Demon closest to us, a male, glances in our direction and turns away quickly before looking back once more. His salacious gaze travels from me to Layla and then back to me again.

If he says something about being one of my cocks…

Fortunately, he remains silent. Good. I’m not in the mood to re-kill someone. And if the tightening of Braxton’s shoulders is any indication, he isn’t either.

We had just turned a bend in the hall...in the Hell hall? In the Hell tunnel hall?

Anyway, we had just turned the bend when a low growl reverberates from behind us. At first, I’m the only one who hears it. Dominic continues his lecture about the proper ways to kill a Hellhound while Layla moves to stand between her Demon mentor and Braxton. I see the way she’s eye-fucking her mentor. She may not be emotionally over her ex, but physically, my girl needs some loving.

Initially, I believe the sound is a natural part of Hell’s makeup. You know, scary growls, eternal pain, and all that shit. When it sounds again, directly behind me, I freeze, the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up and saluting the fucking world.

“Oh shit.”

I barely have time to scream before the monster pounces.

Chapter 25

Hadley

As the force of his body smacking against mine knocks me to the ground, I think about how I didn’t believe monsters existed. Not outside of movies and novels. Of course, I should’ve known the Afterlife would have them in droves.

These monsters are unlike anything I have ever seen before. They don’t have thick horns protruding from their foreheads, nor do they have vibrant red eyes. They’re not the stereotypical monster you would see crawling out from underneath your bed.

No, these are worse.

I remember studying human anatomy in high school my senior year. It was an advanced course I took online during one of the many times I was back in the hospital. I wanted to understand my body and why the fuck it was failing. During the lecture video, a diagram of human muscles popped up on the screen. My lips had curled with disgust, and I’d glanced towards Ocean who was sitting beside me, texting her newest boyfriend on her phone. We’d exchanged a long, dismayed look before breaking into laughter. It was so fucking disgusting.

The monster resembles that picture, only much larger than a normal human, looking as if his skin has been cut from his body. And don’t quote me on the gender, but I’m pretty sure there’s a flaccid dick dangling down between his grotesque legs. Red muscles striated with lines of light pink and white make up his body. Where his nose should be, there’s nothing but two gaping holes. Similarly, his eyes are absent as well, blood-soaked empty sockets in their place.

His teeth snap, leaking red drool from his rotten mouth, and his rancid breath washes over my face. As he crawls up my prone body, fear snakes down my spine. But I don’t move. Not even when I hear a startled scream followed by swords meeting flesh.

We’re being attacked.

“Hadley!” That’s Braxton. I’d recognize his voice anywhere. I can’t remember ever hearing such pain, such anguish, such grief. Which is ridiculous, of course. Of the four of them, I know him the least.

I wish I could see what’s happening. I wish I could see anything other than the monster’s terrifying smile. Blood and grit coat each fang, intermittently spaced in his mouth.

I’m going to die...again.

The realization washes over me like a frozen wave, seeping into my very bones. Surprisingly, it doesn’t scare me.

I’m not happy about it by any means, but I don’t cower. I quite literally look death in the face, a malicious smile tilting my lips.

No, I don’t have issues. Shut your face.

“Come at me, fucker,” I whisper, as the battle rages on around me. His face lowers, lowers, lowers…

Until a wet, sloppy tongue hits my cheek. The monster smiles crookedly at me even as his tongue continues to devour me like a damn ice cream cone.

What. The. Fuck?

A low moan reverberates through his bare chest. No, not a moan. A purr. And that thing between his legs that I thought was a penis? It fucking hardens.

Hardens.

Motherfucker. I’m going be assaulted by a skinless monster in Hell.

Not how I expected my Thursday to go.

His decayed hands creep up and rest on my shoulders as knobby fingers, whose nails are long gone, grip me.

Knobby fingers that are kneading the skin of my shoulders and neck, I might add.

Again. What. The. Fuck?

A second later, the body freezes, his face tightening. A guttural scream escapes his parted lips, even as his body falls to my side. Dead.

A sword is in his back.

Braxton, breathing heavily, stands above the monster. His lips are pulled back in a feral smile, his face speckled with blood. I quickly survey his body, ensuring with my own eyes that he’s okay, before assessing the rest of the Demons and Dearly Departeds. Fortunately, we had no losses on our side, though Layla’s Demon mentor is favoring his right arm, and a Dearly Departed is sobbing softly.

Dozens of monsters litter the floor, each one either decapitated or crumpled with a knife through their chests. Dominic stands near the front of the group looking bloody magnificent, if I do say so myself. His eyes are fierce, emanating a sort of inner darkness I can’t even begin to understand. Layla huddles behind him, her expression surprisingly serene despite the horrors we just endured.

“Are you okay?” Braxton asks desperately, kicking the monster out of the way before kneeling down next to me. His hands roam over my body. Not touching, but almost as if he needs some sort of confirmation I’m alive and well. Breathing.

Given his earlier attitude, I don’t want his fucking comfort right now. So I swat his hands away as if they’re pesky bugs.

“I’m fine,” I tell him with a huff, holding up my hands. “Help me up?” He does, his gentle touch belying the anger and tension lurking just beneath the surface. He’s a ticking time bomb, and I’m terrified of the inevitable explosion.

“Well…that was fun,” Dominic comments dryly, running a hand through his obsidian hair.

Aggie, who’s standing off to the side, peers slyly at me.

“Did you at least get some monster cock?” she inquires. Despite her crude words, a tremor races through her body, and her eyes trail over me just as intently as Braxton’s had moments before. She can put on a good front, an apathetic mask, but she was scared, scared for me. Her body noticeably deflates with relief when she sees me unscathed.

Braxton, however, doesn’t know Aggie like I do, and the Demon growls. Actually growls, the sound low, menacing, and so damn terrifying I get goosebumps on my arms.

Aggie takes an automatic step backwards, raising her hands like she’s fending off a dangerous criminal. Braxton advances, more beast than man. A prowling tiger not just out for the hunt, but for the kill.

“Brax,” I whisper, pulling at his arm. When he continues to stalk closer towards Aggie, I pull again, harder. “Braxton.”

He looks back at me over his shoulder, but I can’t quite read the expression on his face. It’s not his normal blank mask, but something else. Something deeper.

“We’re going to have to cut this field trip short,” Dominic says. He releases a heavy breath. “Come. Let’s head back to the portal.”

I go to join the rest of the class as they start to walk back to the portal when Braxton grabs my hand. Giving him a look of confusion, I stumble as he pulls me into a crevice embedded in the wall. The light from the ocean of fire just outside the opening lights up the small space. I lean my back against the wall, which is surprisingly cold given we’re in Hell.

“What the fuck, Braxton?” I ask, staring over his shoulder at the retreating backs of my classmates. Layla and Aggie both look around, obviously searching for me, but Braxton shifts, blocking them completely from view. His muscular arms are folded over his chest, which heaves with each breath. He’s not as bulky as Auston, but he’s more defined than Preston and even Karston. His black shirt pulled tantalizingly over his pectorals only accentuates that.

“Are you really okay?” he demands. “You sure you aren’t hurt?”

Something about his tone pisses me off. One second he’s pissed because I slept with someone, which is none of his fucking business, and the next he’s acting concerned for my well-being? I can’t deal with the emotional whiplash.

“Why do you care?” I snarl, my hands fisted by my sides. “Why do you care who the fuck I sleep with? Why do you care so much about what happens to me? You barely know me!”

His eyes narrow into thin, piercing slits. I’m dressed in the Academy uniform, but I might as well be naked with the way he’s looking at me.

Like he sees me.

Sees the bruised and broken soul beneath the meticulously groomed exterior.

Sees the girl who accepted death with open arms because she was too tired of the pain.

Sees me...and likes it.

No, loves it.

“What do you want from me, Hadley?” he shouts, his patience obviously splintering like finely cracked ice. When the ice breaks, I’m immediately submerged in cold water. Drowning in his gaze.

“I want to understand, Brax. What was that monster? Why did it attack us? Why do you fucking look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you fucking love me, asshole! It doesn’t make any fucking sense—”

“What makes sense is that I’ve been in love with you for months!” he screams, his words raw as if they were ripped from his fucking heart. His confession douses the white-hot anger burning inside of me, and I press further into the wall. Numbness encases me immediately. But Braxton isn’t done, his voice rising until I’m sure everyone in Hell can hear it. “What the fuck was I supposed to do when I protected your human body from the monsters? You were so fucking brave and beautiful. How could I not have loved you? I can’t even blame my fucking brothers! We all watched you, Hadley! We all watched you and fell in love with you. What don’t you understand? And fuck…”

He begins to pace, pulling at the inky strands of his hair, his leathery wings stretching out behind him. I try to grasp on to the admissions he’s spewing at me, but my mind is spinning.

“I didn’t want you here. Not at the Academy. I thought your soul would move on, finally find peace, but no. You were fucking chosen. You were chosen, the girl I’d been in love with, and I didn’t know how to fucking deal with it. Still don’t. How do I deal with the emotions I feel when I’m around you? And then I discover you chose one of my brothers over me? God, you drive me insane, Hadley. I don’t even know—”

I search his eyes, trying to find the answers to the questions I’m not willing to ask when a fierce look of resolve and determination settles over his handsome face. He stalks over to me, caging my head with his muscled arms, and crushes his mouth against mine, devouring me, until I’m unable to differentiate where he ends and I begin.

Chapter 26

Braxton

The feeling of her lips on mine is euphoric. It’s heaven. It’s hell. It makes me feel all the emotions I have been tucking safely away inside me.

“Braxton.” My name sounds like a prayer on her lips. One I intend to answer.

“Yes,” I rasp, leaning my forehead against hers. “Tell me you want me, Hadley.” My fingers fiddle with the buttons on her shirt, the desire to tear it from her body almost overwhelming.

“I want you, Brax.” Her words come out breathy against my lips.

“Fuck.” Blood floods to my cock as she trails a finger along my horn. A groan escapes me as I finally get the last button undone and she shrugs out of her shirt. With deft fingers, I unclip her black, lacy bra in one motion, freeing her perfect breasts. Her bra falls to the ground as I once again take her mouth, forcing my tongue between her lips. She groans against my mouth as my hands cup her breasts, squeezing them, plucking her plump nipples between my fingers.

Her hands tug at the hem of my shirt, her fingertips brushing my lower abdomen, sending shivers through me. I release her lips to pull my shirt off, and take a few steps back. Her gaze heats as she takes in my muscled form, starting at my chest and moving down to the bulge in my pants. My cock hardens painfully when she bites her full lower lip and slips her skirt down her legs, leaving her standing in only a tiny black lace thong.

And thigh high socks.

Fuck me.

I grip my cock in my pants and squeeze, trying to soothe the ache there before stalking back over to her. I cup the back of her head in one hand and kiss down her jawline.

“Someone might see us,” she whispers, as her fingers work on my belt.

“Dominic knows I have you. He trusts me, he won’t be coming back,” I rasp as I nuzzle into the crook of her neck before sucking on that soft skin.

She moans loudly, the tantalizing sound reverberating off the cavern walls. I suck harder, biting at her tender flesh as I slip my fingers inside her panties. I groan when I find her slit slick with her cream.

“So wet for me already, Hadley?” I growl, my voice an octave lower than it was just moments ago. “And here I thought you didn’t like me.”

My fingers slide between her wet lips and circle the needy bud inside. Her hips thrust against my hand as a wonton moan escapes her throat.

“I like you, Brax,” she croons, her fingers pulling my belt from the loops so quickly I hear a swish.

“Show me, Had. Show me how much you like me. Come for me.”

“Fuck,” she cries out, dropping my belt before wrapping her arms around my neck as I work her clit harder. My lips descend along her neck once again, and my free hand tweaks her nipple.

Her moans become high-pitched whimpers as she chases her release.

“Come for me,” I purr.

“Oh, God.”

Her breaths saw in and out of her chest, and I lean back, wanting to see her face as she crests. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes rolled back into her head.

“I’m-I’m gonna…” She cries out as a gush of arousal wets my hand, her hips thrusting against my fingers as she rides out her orgasm.

“That’s a good girl,” I croon as her fingernails dig into my neck, the pain only fueling my desire for her. “You look beautiful when you come, Hadley. Like a fucking Goddess.”

“Fuck,” she groans, her body going limp in my arms.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” I say, scooping her up in my arms. “I’m not through with your hot, little body just yet.”

Her eyes flutter open, and her lust-filled orbs gaze up at me. “Oh yeah? What do you want to do to me, Brax?”

Is-Is she teasing me?

A growl escapes my lips and I nip at her shoulder.

“Well, for starters, I’m going to taste you here.” I lightly trail my fingers over her pussy, feeling it pulsing beneath my fingertips. “Then, I’m going to thrust my cock inside you and fuck you so hard you’ll forget anything but my name as you scream it over, and over, and over.”

“Fuck,” she moans, rubbing her thighs together even as I hold her. “Do it. I want you to.”

“Gladly, but first, where to hang you…”

I smother her mouth with mine before she can respond, before she can talk herself out of what I’m going to do to her. But I won’t allow that to happen. I need this girl more than I need the wings on my back, more than I need my sword when I fight the monsters in Hell.

Her eyes are hooded, lips swollen from our kisses as I search for the perfect spot. Bending down, I scoop my belt off the ground and head over to a piece of rock jutting out from the cavern wall.

I set her on her feet and order, “Give me your hands, Hadley.”

I see concern briefly flash on her face, but she doesn’t give into her fears and instead offers me her hands.

I cross her thin wrists over one another, then bind them together with my belt. She hisses as the leather tightens against her skin, but allows me to do it. Then I pick her up, and she wraps her muscled legs around my waist and loops her bound wrists over my head, until they sit snugly against the back of my neck as I take her mouth again.

I pour my feelings into the kiss—my desire for her, my fervent lust, but also my fear of losing her again. I lost her once and that can’t happen again. She returns the kiss, nipping at my lips, until our mouths open and our tongues collide. They swirl around each other in an erotic dance, massaging and licking as I walk to the overhang.

Grinning to myself, I pull her arms off my neck and hang her from the piece of rock, then step away from her body.

She looks so fucking sexy, dangling there, her body stretched beautifully, tits out, pink nipples beaded just for me.

“Something’s missing…” I say, holding my chin in thought. I walk over to her and take her nipple in my mouth, swirling my tongue over the hardened bud. She groans, the noises only turning me on more. Wanting to test her, I bite down, and she screams out, tossing her head back against the stone.

“Fuck,” she cries out as I let go and suckle the sore bud with my lips. With my fingertips, I trace the hollows of her hip bones. My lips move to her other nipple before I rip the tiny thong from her body, pulling a gasp from her mouth.

Then I back away from her, missing the warmth from her body. I reach up and trail my fingertips down her raised arms and down her sides, watching as her body responds, sending goosebumps along her skin, tightening her nipples even further.

“Brax,” she pleas, my name on her lips a question she’s not willing to ask.

So I’ll make her wait.

My fingers play with the button on my pants as I take a few steps back, wanting her eyes focused on nothing but me. Her thighs are wet from her release, and her pussy lips are slightly spread, revealing the glistening pink flesh inside.

Her blue eyes darken as I lower my zipper and pull my pants off my hips. I kick them to the side then repeat the process, sliding my thumbs below the waistband of my boxer briefs before slowly dragging them down my body.

She gasps when my cock springs free. Gripping my hard shaft, I slide my hand up and down the length while she watches with rapt attention.

“Brax.” My name crosses her perfect, pink lips again like a promise, a secret only for me.

Still pumping my cock, I walk over to her, stretching my black wings out behind me to show her all that I am. I brush my hair out of my eyes, then stop in front of her and place a chaste kiss on her lips. I search her face, her eyes, watching as her chest heaves, her breasts pushing out towards me, before sinking to my knees. Holding her heated gaze I grab her legs and toss them over my shoulders.

I spread her wide, running my nose along her slit as she writhes against me.

“Please,” she whispers, and I smile against her skin.

“Good girl.” Extending my tongue, I circle her hard nub, rewarding her. She moans, her hips thrusting, pressing her pussy against my mouth. I reach up and play with her nipples, pulling and twisting them as I devour her with my tongue. I swirl around her clit and pinch her nipples. She cries out, her thighs squeezing my head. Yet still I tease, circling her pink bundle of nerves, rolling her plump nipples, squeezing her breasts. Her breaths become shallow, and a beautiful flush creeps up her chest to her neck and face.

It’s her tell.

I know she’s close. Her cries become louder, and her pussy pulses against my lips, but just before she comes, I back away.

“No! No, please. Please, Brax.”

“What do you need, Hadley?” I tease, rising to my feet.

“I need you, Brax. Take me, please. I can’t take it another second.”

I lean in and run my nose along her jaw and whisper in her ear, “I’ll give you what you want. What you so desperately desire, but you must give me one thing in return.”

I pull away from her and search her eyes.

“What can I possibly give you?” she asks, her voice growing hoarse already from her screams of pleasure. I pull her thighs apart and see her arousal dripping from her pussy.

So. Fucking. Hot.

I run my cock up and down her cunt, wetting the head, before lining up with her entrance.

“Your heart.” I grip her hips and slam my cock inside her before she can respond. She moans deeply, the seductive sound erupting from her lips. Over and over, I impale her with my entire length. I bring her knees up, curving her ass, knowing I’m hitting her g-spot every time I thrust inside her.

Her lips form into an ‘O’ as I fuck her like there’s no tomorrow. And hell, maybe there isn’t. With the Darkness making its presence known and the souls of the dead dying again, this could be my last moment, our last moment. And I’ll be damned if it isn’t the best one of her Afterlife, even if she can’t walk right for hours afterwards.

My need surges inside me, and I spread my wings to give me balance. I take her mouth once more, wanting her to taste herself on my lips. She moans as our tongues collide, swirling around in a frenzy, trying to take as much of each other as we possibly can.

Her pussy clenches around my cock, milking me, fueling my desire. My hands grip her ass, squeezing the plump cheeks in my palms as I fuck her with abandon, as if salvation itself exists between her legs.

The wet sounds of our bodies smacking against each other bounces off the walls, only making me hotter.

“Braxton.” This time, my name is the cure to her ailments, the answer to her prayers, confirming my feelings for her.

“Braxton.” My name comes out more high-pitched this time, a cry to give her what she needs, her body pleading with me to give it what she craves. I want to hear my name screamed from her mouth for the rest of my Afterlife.

My balls tighten against my body, preparing to fill her hot, wet hole with my cum.

“Braxton!” she cries out, finding her release. She tosses her head back and pushes her chest out, her hard nipples rubbing against my skin as she bounces on my cock, riding out the waves of her climax.

I roar as I come with her. My cock pulses, shooting streams of cum inside her clenching pussy. I slow my movements until we’re both spent, a sheen of perspiration coating our skin, our hair sticking to our faces.

“Brax,” she whispers between pants. “That... was... amazing.”

I smile against her lips and kiss her forehead before sliding my hands up her arms and lifting her off the rock. I sit down and place her on my lap, then unbuckle her wrists. I bring the chafed skin to my lips and plant tiny kisses all the way around them.

My mind spins with emotion. I finally got what I wanted.

Hadley.

The real Hadley. Raw and real, bared before me in the most intimate way as she placed her trust in me. My heart squeezes in my chest.

I know we can’t stay here long. The sun has more than likely set already. Creatures far worse than the ones we just defeated come out when the light leaves the sky.

But I can’t find the will inside me to let her go just yet. I curl my arms under her back and knees and cradle her against me. She nuzzles into my neck and trails a finger over my chest. We sit in silence for a few moments until I see her eyes grow tired.

“Come on, let’s get you back to your dorm.” I spin her in my lap and wrap my hands around her hips, helping her stand. She shoots a smirk at me from over her shoulder and goes to find her clothes. I find mine too, pulling on my pants and tugging my shirt over my head.

By the time I’m done, she’s wearing her skirt and buttoning up her shirt. It’s a shame to see her perfect body covered. She’s looking around the ground for something. Her eyes light up when she finds it and she spins to meet my gaze, holding up her torn panties with a smirk on her face.

“Guess I’m not wearing these back to the dorms, am I?”

I close my eyes and bite my lip, willing my cock not to grow hard again, but the thought of her walking back with nothing covering her pussy makes me rock fucking hard.

She laughs and saunters over to me, kissing me slow and steady. I reach down and pull up her skirt then give her ass a quick spank. She yelps and pulls away, still giggling.

Knowing she’s driving me wild, she makes a show of swaying her hips as she heads to the portal—the same one the Dearly Departed entered through. Then the little minx feigns spotting something on the ground and bends down to pick up the imaginary object, giving me a perfect view of her swollen pussy, red and ripe from our fucking.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” I groan. “And you better not do that again, or I might have to take you on the Academy grounds where everyone can watch.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll behave.” She tosses me a vibrant smile and holds out her hand. I return her smile and thread my fingers through hers, bringing her hand to my lips and planting a kiss on the back.

“On the count of three, we jump through.” She nods and licks her lips.

“Three!” I shout before pulling her through, causing a surprised cry to escape from her lips. I’m still laughing when we land topside. She swats my chest with the back of her hand, but a grin is still plastered on her face.

I take her hand once more and lead her through the grounds and back to the dorms, willing the wind to behave and not flash her ass to the world.

We head inside her dorm and she knocks on the door, having forgotten her key to get inside.

“Sleep tight,” I murmur, giving her a kiss. As the old woman opens the door to let her in, I drop her hand and walk down the hall.

“You have sex hair,” I hear her accuse Hadley, and I have to stifle a laugh as I head back to my dorm. I couldn’t be any happier. Tonight, I’ll get to sleep with the taste of my girl on my lips and the smell of her on my body as I recall her screaming my name.

Chapter 27

Hadley

I’m either the worst fucking person in the world…

Or the luckiest.

Honestly, the verdict’s still out on that one.

In the past couple of weeks, I have slept with two guys and developed feelings for at least four. Who does that?

And for the four guys to be brothers? Fate hates me. Epically.

Even though we haven’t known each other long, I like them. A lot. I care for all four of them equally, and I can’t choose between them. They’re a storm I want to strip naked for and dance in, the intensity of my feelings for them almost staggering.

I can’t even look at myself in the mirror, my stomach a tumultuous mixture of dread and lust. I hate that the sex I shared with both Braxton and Preston is tainted by my guilt. Does Preston think I’m his girlfriend? Fuck. What if he dumps me?

I won’t blame him. If he reveals to me that he’s fucking another girl...I’ll be jealous. And hurt. Which is probably how Preston will feel when I confess the truth.

I’m an awful human being.

What makes me feel even shittier is the fact that I knew they were brothers, and I knew there was animosity between them. Their ties were precarious, thin enough to cut with a dull knife. One would think their shared death—still unknown to me—would have forged a bond made of steel, but it apparently had the opposite effect. They can barely look at each other without frowns and furrowed brows, much less partake in a civilized conversation.

And when they discover the truth about me? The fact that I have feelings for all four of them and refuse to pick between them? They’ll hate each other even more…and me. I don’t want to think about that, but I know it’s true. I can feel it like an ice cube sitting on my skin, just waiting to melt.

But being with both Preston and Braxton, two entirely different guys…

They say you get fireworks when you’re with the man (or men) of your dreams, and I truly believe the metaphysical “they” are right. It exploded in my veins and stomach, a mirage of colors erupting behind my closed eyelids. White-hot pleasure cascaded through me.

Fuck.

Add Braxton’s bombshell of a confession, I’m more confused than ever. If what he said was true, then that means the four of them were watching me, loving me, long before I knew of their existence.

I don’t know how the fuck to feel about that. A part of me wants to be angry, livid, furious, and annoyed. Not one of them has bothered to tell me in the weeks I’ve been here. Instead, they played me for an idiot. How much did they see? How much do they know?

Enough for Braxton to fall in love with me.

Love.

That one word settles in my stomach like a block of lead mixing with the bundle of nerves. I know I feel strongly for all four of them. I’m definitely attracted to them, and I know I’m starting to feel something for them...but love? I’m not sure. I honestly don’t think so, at least not yet.

I won’t deny that there is a possibility I could fall in love with all of them. The bridge has been painstakingly built, encompassing a chasm, and I just need to find the courage to cross over. Currently, I’m two steps in, staring at the bridge that seems to go on forever. I could jog or run or walk...or I could turn around and head back the way I came.

And if they react the way I expect them to after I reveal the truth about my feelings? They might just blow up the bridge themselves.

“Fuck,” I whimper to myself in the silence of my room. Aggie sleeps soundlessly beside me, moonlit and still. “Put your big girl panties on, Had.”

After that pep talk, I reluctantly rise from the bed and throw on a sweatshirt over my pajamas. I didn’t bother to wear a bra to bed because, in all honesty, what heathen does?

I need to woman-up and confess the truth to them. Confront them. And, hopefully, get them talking amongst themselves. A girl can dream, right?

“Get some balls,” I murmur to myself before pausing. “Get some pussy,” I correct, because let’s face it, pussies are so much more badass than balls. The epitome of strength right there.

Before I can change my mind, I head out to track down the four men who have captured my heart...and broke each others’.

* * *

I find Preston first.

It’s surprisingly easy to travel into the Reapers’ dorm, ask the front desk worker which room Preston sleeps in, and obtain a key. Honestly, you would think after all the deaths on campus they would be a little more hesitant and cautious about giving this information to a virtual stranger, but no. She’s all smiles and dimples as she hands me a key and directs me to the second floor.

Security here is a fucking joke.

Preston, the lucky bastard, has a single room, and he’s still soundly asleep when I open the door. He’s all snuggled up, the blankets wrapped around his waist, his bare chest rising and falling steadily.

I take a moment—a very brief moment—to stare around his room in rapt fascination. I don’t want to appear like any more of a creeper than I already do. It’s similar to mine in style, but has only one set of furniture instead of two. The color scheme making up the bedspread, curtains, and the assortment of clothes hanging over the back of his chair appears to be light blue and white. It’s as unkempt as Preston is, a fact I find endearing.

Footsteps soft, I tiptoe up to his bed and crawl across the blankets until my body is balanced over his, my weight resting on my forearms positioned on either side of his head.

“Preston,” I whisper softly, planting a kiss on his forehead.

He murmurs something in his sleep, something I can’t entirely discern.

“Preston…” I move my lips to his cheek, kissing downwards until they touch the corner of his mouth. “Wake up.”

With a roar—a literal roar— Preston’s eyes snap open, and his body rolls, pinning me beneath him. He kisses me with a ferocious intensity I don’t expect from my sweet, timid lover. His carnal hunger causes molten lava to cascade through my veins and to my core. He bites down brutally on my lower lip, and I moan low in my throat, the sound reverberating through my body.

The kisses lose their intensity until soon, he’s merely peppering tiny, sweet pecks across my swollen lips. His unfocused eyes widen slightly, and his entire body freezes. He pushes himself up into a sitting position, the blanket pooling around his legs. It’s only then that I realize…motherfucking Preston sleeps in the nude. Yup. You heard me right. Unbidden, my eyes go to his erect cock, glistening with pre-cum.

Fuck me.

Literally. In the front or back, I don’t care.

“Holy fuck,” Preston breathes, scraping his fingers through his dark hair. Of course, that only serves to make it more disheveled, sticking in all directions on his head. “That wasn’t a dream?” His cheeks are a delicate shade of red.

“You dream about me often?” I ask, only half teasing. Internally, I’m flattered. Heaven only knows how many dreams I’ve had of Preston and company, when the nightmares aren’t plaguing me.

And yes, company means his brothers. Don’t judge me.

“Every night,” Preston blurts. “Wake up, masturbate, and then repeat the cycle.” He pauses, his eyes widening. “Fuck! Did I say that out loud?”

I smile cheekily, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“You’re adorable.”

“Thank you?”

My hands fiddle on my lap as I suddenly recall the reason I had come here in the first place. It wasn’t just for a hot as hell make out session...though that was an added bonus. Bracing myself—pulling on my metaphorical big girl panties—I say, “Meet me on the bridge in one hour, okay? We need to talk.”

Preston’s smile widens causing my heart to stutter. He’s so fucking gorgeous that it physically pains me...and he doesn’t even realize it. He stares at me as if I hung the moon, the stars, and the sun. But I didn’t. Not really. That’s too much brightness, too much goodness, for me to handle. Sometimes I believe I crave the dark because the light is too much for a girl like me. I’m just...a black hole.

Guilt swarms low in my stomach like angry gnats.

“So you’ll come?” I question Preston tentatively when he doesn’t immediately respond. His lips brush across my cheek, feeling like the wing of a butterfly in its softness.

“Don’t you know I’ll go anywhere for you?” he whispers adoringly.

My heart stutters, suddenly feeling too much too quickly for this man. I can only hope he’ll feel the same after my confession.

* * *

I go to Auston next, and this time, I’m not immediately handed the room key. The girl working the Angel front desk eyes me with barely concealed contempt. She’s pretty with the signature white, cascading hair all Angels have and huge ass wings fluttering from her back. But her sneer is decidedly un-angel-like as she trails her gaze over me.

“Why do you want to see Auston?” she asks, not bothering to veil her jealousy and anger.

Ah. Now it makes sense.

This girl must be an ex-girlfriend of Auston’s. Something akin to jealousy spears me, and I rub at my chest to alleviate the sudden ache. Why am I not surprised Auston has a beautiful ex-girlfriend? A beautiful ex-girlfriend who is obviously not over him?

“Just give me a room number please,” I reply, teeth gnashing together and jaw clenching. She glares right back.

“Hadley?” a familiar voice says from behind me. “What are you doing here?”

I look over my shoulder, surprised to see Fucking Jake entering the dorm building. Actually, I shouldn’t be surprised. He lives here, for Christ’s sake. But what is he doing out in the middle of the night? As soon as I think that, I have an ah-ha moment in my head...

Of course.

What do most teenagers do when they’re sneaking in and out in the middle of the night? I’ll give you a hint—it’s not baking cookies.

Fucking Jake got his fucking dick wet.

“Fuc—Jake!” I correct quickly, smiling widely. “Maybe you could help me.”

Angel Skank Bitch growls.

“What do you need, Had Babe?”

You’re not to use that nickname.

“I have a huge test in Angel tomorrow, and I was hoping to grab my notes from Auston. I left them with him when he was tutoring me yesterday,” I lie, batting my lashes. Jake’s face changes, tightening when I mention Auston, and his jaw clenches tightly. “Please?”

He glances at me, his eyes hard, when they suddenly widen. His mouth drops open in shock, and his eyes go white. He stills for a moment as a premonition washes over him, but it’s over in seconds. Dozens of emotions flash in his cerulean depths when he sees reality again, looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. He smooths his expression over quickly, replacing it with an apathetic front.

“Fine,” he says breezily, leading me down the hall. I feel Skank’s eyes on my back, burning a hole into my skin. He stops in front of a room at the very end of the hall. “Here we are. But don’t be too offended if he’s buried balls deep inside another girl. Auston likes his women.” With that warning, he turns on his heel and stalks down the hall. I watch him go with my heart racing in tandem to my thoughts.

Could Auston be with another woman?

Why does that thought fill me with such icy dread?

I had sex with two of his brothers, for fuck’s sake. I have no claim on Auston—we’ve never even kissed and he’s never mentioned he has feelings for me. Actually, I have no claim on any of these men. Except for the one my vagina’s throwing out there like she’s a damn fisherman sinking a hook into her fish.

Gross metaphor, I know.

With bated breath, I lift my fist to knock on the door.

Only to have it open before my hand can touch the wood.

Auston leans indolently against the wooden frame. He’s shirtless, his sculpted muscles on display, adorned with intricate tattoos that elicit shivers from me—my body’s visceral response. Unlike Preston, he has a pair of low-riding sweatpants on, showing off a splattering of white blond hair and the mouthwatering V I find so attractive in guys.

“Yes,” Auston says before I can open my mouth.

“Um...I didn’t...how did you know I was here?” I settle on at last. There’s a thousand things I want to say, want to ask, and I hate to admit the majority of them have to do with the gorgeous female down the hall.

“Premonition,” he explains, tapping the side of his head. “Angels get them, remember? You want to ask me if I’ll meet you at the bridge in a little bit, and the answer’s yes.”

“Oh. Well. Um. Okay. I’ll just—” Before I can finish my sentence, Auston pulls me into a bruising, possessive kiss. One of his large hands fists my hair, pulling my face up to meet his, while the other is splayed on my lower back, holding my body firmly against his. I shudder against him, the feeling of safety that fills me when I’m in his arms washing over me.

“It’s going to work out, Hadley,” he murmurs softly. Earnestly. He peers into my eyes, almost as if he knows something I don’t. As if he can see every fucked up, perverted thought I had about him and his brothers and chooses not to judge me for them.

Snort. Yeah, right.

I want to stay in his arms forever, but I reluctantly untangle myself.

“I’ll see you later,” I reply, glancing at the floor, suddenly feeling shy. Fuck, I don’t know how to deal with this.

Feelings.

I leave before Auston can respond.

* * *

I find Karston on my way to visit Braxton.

Actually, he finds me, materializing into existence mere inches from my face.

“Hey, pretty lady. What are you doing out alone at night?” he inquires, and though his words are teasing, his tone reveals his anxiety. Probably not the smartest idea to walk around campus when there’s a crazy, soul-sucking murderer on the loose. Oops.

“I’m stalking you,” I deadpan.

“Are you a jogger? Because you’ve been running through my head all day,” he retorts.

“So fucking cheesy, Karston,” I mutter, shaking my head. Still, my lips twitch. Something about Karston is addictive. Maybe I’m a wanton horn-dog...or maybe there’s something truly there.

“Let’s meet tonight,” I say quickly. Briskly. I slip my hands into my sweatshirt pockets, the chilly wind ruffling my sandy blonde tresses.

“Meet?”

“The bridge. In a half hour. How does that sound?”

He hesitates, eyeing me warily.

“What are you going to do in the meantime?” he asks. There’s a lot I don’t know about Karston, I realize. He may act flirtatious, but the man has numerous layers. You peel one back, and you’re assaulted with an entirely new Karston. He’s protective and funny. Witty and sarcastic. Kind and flirtatious.

I’ve barely scratched the surface with this man.

“I forgot something in my dorm,” I lie, nodding towards the first year dorms. “I’ll be there in a second.”

I feel awful for lying. Horrible. My stomach somersaults, threatening to expel the contents of my dinner with Aggie earlier. But what can I do? I need them all together for this announcement, and they’ll never come if they knew the others were present. They’re the most stubborn men I have ever met.

“Okay. Go straight there. Don’t dilly dally,” Karston warns harshly. His eyes, however, are soft. “Why don’t I walk you?”

I give him a long look.

“Seriously? Karston, I’m perfectly capable of walking to my room by myself. But what were you doing out here anyway?” I question, almost afraid of his answer. If he says he was with a girl…

His hot breath fans over my ear as he levitates and floats from one side of me to the other, trailing a finger along the back of my neck as he does. Goosebumps erupt on my arms and chest, and I inhale sharply.

“I was coming to find you.”

“Me?” I whisper, whipping my head to the side to stare directly at him. His brilliant eyes ensnare me, hold me hostage. In his gaze, I’m his prisoner. Completely and utterly under his hypnotic spell.

“I like watching you sleep.” He shrugs nonchalantly. He has to be joking...right? A normal guy would blush at that confession, but not Karston. Fucking weirdo. A cute, sexy weirdo, but a weirdo all the same. “See you in a little bit, beautiful.”

He slaps my ass, pushing me toward my dorm, and he waits until I’m inside before dematerializing once more. I give it a few more seconds, breathing heavily, before I slip out of the opposite side of my dorm and walk in the direction of the Demon dorm.

* * *

Braxton’s still awake when I knock on his door.

“Come in,” he calls. When I hesitate, he sighs impatiently. “Get your sexy ass in here, Hadley.”

Oh. That’s me. I have the sexy ass.

I timidly push open the door, hating that I have an easier time fucking this man than actually verbalizing my feelings. I turn towards where Braxton is sprawled on his bed. His horns shine amidst his thick, dark hair which has fallen over one eye. A book is propped open on his chest, and a cup of what looks like hot tea sits steaming on his bedside table.

I’ve always found a man that reads to be so fucking sexy.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask, feeling unnaturally shy. I slept with this guy, and yet I can’t make eye contact with him. His confession runs on repeat in my head. No, not just runs. Chases me. Hunts me down. Preys on me. I don’t know how to act around Braxton.

Instead, I focus on his room. Like Preston’s, it’s designed for one person only with a bed, a dresser, and a desk. An opened door shows a small bathroom with ceramic tiles and a golden clawfoot tub. Totally going to use that one of these days.

The bed itself has a black bedspread and an assortment of fluffy pillows. Two nightstands flank it on either side, one containing his cup of tea and the other a framed photo. I vaguely wonder who or what is in the photo. Who or what is so important to him to have it facing his bed? Before my curiosity can get the better of me, I turn back towards Braxton.

My skin heats at the memory of his body pressed against mine. Fuck, I didn’t think I would like being dominated, but there was something about it that had my heart racing. It could also be because I trust Braxton implicitly with both my body and my heart...a thought that scares the shit out of me.

Fuck, what am I doing? This isn’t some reverse harem novel I loved to read back at home. This is real fucking life, and that’s ten times worse. Real life doesn’t always have a happy ending. Just look at me now. Dead. I don’t see a happily ever after at the end of my story.

I see four men staring at me with varying expressions of disgust and anger, as words are hurled my way like throwing knives.

“How did you know it was me?” I query softly. There’s a water stain on the wall by his bed, and I suddenly find that spot rather interesting.

Okay, fine. I’m a coward. I don’t want to make eye contact with the man who ravaged me only a few hours ago.

“You’re the only girl I’ve ever allowed into my room.” Braxton shrugs his shoulders, the black tank top straining against his bulging muscles. “Now come here.” He pats the spot on the bed beside him. When I remain in the doorway, my feet cemented to the ground, his grin turns gentle. “We don’t have to do anything more than sit and cuddle, okay?”

I twist my fingers together, staring at each individual one. My middle finger has a tiny bit of dirt encrusted beneath the nail, and I absently pick at it.

“Actually, I was hoping we could meet and talk.”

I move onto my ring finger, using my nails to scratch at the skin.

“Why, Hadley, it sounds as if you’re breaking up with me,” Braxton says with a teasing glint to his eyes. His words, though meant to put me at ease, make my heart stop. Literally stop.

Are we a couple now? Do I want us to be a couple? Fuck, why am I so confused?

“Meet me at the bridge in about twenty minutes.”

“You got it, babe.” He stands, stretching languidly as his massive wings spread out behind him before walking over to me and pressing a soft kiss on my forehead. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk now?”

“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly. Too quickly. His brows furrow together, eyes narrowing suspiciously, but I dance out of the room before he can say anything. “Toodaloo.” I wave my fingers like the fucking dork I am.

Only when I’m outside of the dorm, in the crisp air, do I face-palm myself.

Real smooth, Hadley.

I try to tamp down my sudden heavy breathing and racing heart. I need to walk onto that bridge levelheaded. And then…

And then I need to brace myself for the inevitable heartbreak.

“Fuck me,” I murmur, dragging my hand down my face.

“If you wish,” a dark, distorted voice sneers from behind. I don’t get a chance to turn, to scream, or to even raise my fists before something slams into my head. Darkness seeps into the edges of my vision, like a black curtain being drawn closed, before I’m rendered unconscious.

Happy endings?

Don’t fucking exist for a girl like me.

Chapter 28

Karston

What could my little kitten possibly need to speak to me about that she couldn’t do right here on the grounds? Why wait thirty minutes? Why choose the bridge, especially at night time?

Dozens of unanswered questions swirl around in my head, spinning in my brain so fiercely I have to hold on to my temples to keep from getting dizzy. I dematerialized when she entered her dorm and had half a mind to follow her. But I decided to let her keep her secrets. I was going to find out soon enough anyway.

I hover for a moment, trying to decide on the best way to waste the next thirty minutes of my Afterlife. Then it dawns on me, I’ve not gone to the secret room behind the Hellhound statue since I took Braxton there a few weeks ago.

Heading back through the North Forest, I float through the trees and inside the stone walls of the Academy. The Hellhound is on the first floor, so it doesn’t take me long to find it. Without a physical body to worry about, I drift right through the door and down the long, dark corridor to the medical room beyond. I peek my head around, making sure no other ghosts are inside, before heading into the back room.

Shock doesn’t even begin to cover the emotion I feel when not one, but five calcified bodies are lying stoic, grayed, and cracked on the gurneys inside.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, hovering over each frozen body. I recognize a third year Demon by the name of Darren. He’s a tough motherfucker. If the Darkness was able to suck his soul, then there’s not much hope for the rest of us.

An Angel lies next to him. What used to be long, flowing white hair, is now grayed, muted. Amelia is her name, or was… Her ebony eye sockets stare at me as if I were looking into some black hole in the middle of a lost galaxy.

I tear my eyes away from her and drift over to the third gurney. I startle when I see that this one contains a professor, Mrs. Myle. My insides freeze when I realize even ghosts aren’t invincible against it. I stay dematerialized most of the time for that reason. I thought maybe the Darkness couldn’t take me if it couldn’t touch me. But here lies Mrs. Myle, still translucent, as if her tangible body was forced visible when the Darkness caught her and took her essence.

I don’t recognize the fourth body. But by the looks of her, she must be a Dearly Departed. She appears to be in her mid-forties, her cracked face decorated with a smattering of freckles, and she has gray, curly hair flowing around her fragile body.

I don’t even bother looking at the fifth body, the kill that gave my sweet Hadley nightmares when she found the girl’s body floating in the water under the bridge.

I’ve got to warn the others.

I’m shocked when that thought crosses through my mind. I’ve not really spoken to any of my brothers much over the past three years. Not since… since we arrived here at the Academy. But for some strange reason, I feel a deep-seated desire to see them, to tell them what I’ve discovered.

I try and push my past feelings aside, my fervent anger, the hate, the sorrow, and find my resolve. After meeting up with Hadley, I’ll find them. Find them and tell them everything. I might not like my brothers anymore, but somewhere deep down, I still love them, even if I’m reluctant to admit it.

Realizing my thirty minute window is just about up, I hurry from the room of the frozen souls and back out of the Academy. Through the North Woods and around the dorms I float until the bridge comes into view.

Lit by a series of perfectly placed lights, the bridge glows like a beacon in the darkness. The sound of the rushing river below and the taste of salt upon my lips accompany me as I drift along the bridge.

My heart sinks when I realize she’s not here yet. But that’s okay. Ghosts are punctual creatures. Maybe it’s because we have direct pathways to our destinations, being able to glide through any wall or obstacle in our path, or maybe Ghosts are just innately punctual. Regardless, Ghosts are always on time.

I stay hidden, searching the grounds for my girl, the memory of tasting the cherry chapstick on her lips making my mouth water. A thud behind me has me turning around quickly. My eyes widen when I see that Braxton has landed on the bridge. His eyes narrow into slits as he searches the grounds beyond. But… why is he here? Another thud sounds behind me, and this time Auston comes into view.

What the actual fuck?

“Braxton? Why the heaven are you here?” he growls, folding his massive arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing. I thought Angels required their beauty sleep.” Braxton levels Auston with a glare that would melt ice, but Auston isn’t fazed in the slightest. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure Auston is made of ice. It’s been this way long before we were separated into the various Afterlife divisions. Braxton is fire, and Auston is ice. Me? I consider myself water, more likely to go with the flow than the others. I don’t know what the fuck Preston is. Maybe wind because he runs into doors and shit.

“I’m meeting someone, Demon,” Auston retorts. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you left before she arrives.”

“Dammit!” a voice yells, before the sound of someone falling reaches my ears. That could only be—

“Preston?” Auston calls, his narrowed eyes searching the end of the bridge. “What the hell are you doing here? Reapers are afraid of the dark.”

“Whatever!” Preston scoffs, standing back up. “Most of the time we lurk in the darkness... without a halo,” he swerves his glare to Braxton, “or fire to light our path.” Preston’s eyes move from Auston to Braxton, widening. “So, if you’re both here, that means all we’re missing is—”

“Me,” I finish for him, materializing between them. “Fancy meeting you all here. Let me guess…” I say, placing my hand on my chin in thought. “One Dearly Departed with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes asked you all to meet her here? Correct me if I’m wrong.”

Preston’s cheeks flush as he shoves his fingers through his unkempt hair. “Sounds right to me.”

“I thought so. Auston? Brax? What about you guys?”

Braxton furrows his brows, his scowl deepening, but nods in confirmation.

Auston sighs. “Yes. Me too. Told me she needed to talk to me about something. I actually had a premonition about it before she even came to my room, but I didn’t see you guys joining in the bridge party.”

“So, then where is our mysterious girl?” I question, looking around.

“I don’t know,” Preston replies. “But she seemed very worked up about something. She was nervous and unsure. So unlike herself. Like she had a confession to make and wasn’t sure how I’d respond to it.”

“Anyone have any idea what that might be about, hmm?” I query, flitting my gaze between my brothers.

Auston’s face remains stoic, Preston continues to make his hair stand on end, and Brax crosses his arms over his chest, raising his chin defiantly just like he did if he was lying when we were kids.

Guilty.

“Braaaaax,” I drawl, elongating his name. “My spidey sense tells me you know something about this.”

“Shouldn’t we be more worried about why she hasn’t shown up than what she has to tell us?” Preston offers, changing the subject.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this… but Preston is right,” Auston chimes in. “Where’s Hadley? She should be here by now.”

“Let’s do a quick search of the grounds, see if we can spot her on her way,” Braxton suggests. “Auston, take the North Woods. Karston, you check the dorms, and I will check the West Woods and the shore.”

“What about me?” Preston asks.

“You stay here, in case she shows up,” Auston tells him. “Besides, Brax and I can travel quicker with our wings, and Karston can hover and float through stuff.”

“Okay,” Preston reluctantly agrees.

“Meet back here in ten minutes,” Brax orders, stretching out his wings. “If she’s not here by then—”

“Then we search harder,” I finish for him.

Brax gives me a nod, a determined look on his face. Then he launches himself into the sky, his black wings surging as he heads off to the ocean. Auston follows Brax, leaping into the air, his feathered wings flapping as he flies to the North Woods.

“You going to be okay by yourself?” I ask Pres, surprised by the sincerity in my voice.

Seems like he is too, since he looks at me with wide eyes, making him appear even more innocent. “Yeah. Just, go find her. I’m worried.”

“Me too,” I tell him, before vanishing from sight. My heart races in my chest as I begin my search, heading down the hill leading towards the dorms. The grounds are pretty much vacant except for a Ghost floating around here and there. I keep my head down, not wanting to strike up a conversation with anyone.

I look all around the grounds and through the dorms, but find nothing. Anxiety floods my veins, a worry stirring in my gut, twisting my insides. I search the Dearly Departed dorms, ignoring the horror of one naked and masturbating Angus inside Hadley’s room. I check the cafeteria, the game room, the pool.

She’s nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” I shout in frustration, making one final lap around the dorms before heading back to the bridge. Preston is right where we left him, but has summoned his scythe and is twirling the weapon around rather proficiently for a clumsy guy.

I materialize before I reach him, not wanting to spook him when he’s already distressed.

“Anything?” he asks hopefully.

“Nada. But she can’t have just vanished. I’m sure Brax or Auston have found her.” My voice comes out more confident than I feel.

Moments later, Brax lands empty handed, worry evident on his angular features. I don’t have to ask to know he didn’t find anything.

My eyes shift towards the North Woods. I replay a silent prayer over and over in my head, begging whoever is listening to have Hadley show up safely.

A glimmer of bright wings flash in the moonlight, but as Auston approaches, I can see he is alone.

No Hadley.

“Fuck,” Brax yells, his hands clenched in fists as he paces along the bridge. I rub my hands up and down my face, not believing that this is really happening. Auston lands and opens his mouth to speak when his facial muscles slacken, and a blank look glazes over his eyes. I recognize the abrupt change as the product of him having a premonition. I can only hope it helps us and isn’t about what he will learn in his next Guardian class.

A tear rolls down his cheek, which surprises me. I didn’t think Angels felt emotion during a vision. But one thing is clear: this isn’t good.

Auston staggers, falling to his knees when his body becomes his own again. He grabs his chest as if his heart has been impaled by a knife.

“What did you see?” Brax demands, his voice lowering an octave.

Auston looks up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “She-She’s been taken.”

“Taken?” I gulp, hoping he doesn’t mean what I think he does.

“By who?” Preston inquires, his voice shaking with emotion.

Auston’s gaze shifts to me. “I can’t tell. The vision was muddied, as if I was watching the scene through a veil of fog. But I know she was strapped down on some sort of stone slab, and a blindfold covered her eyes. I saw her chest rise and fall so I know she’s alive, but my head pounded, making me think she suffered an injury to her skull.”

“Who has her? Is it the Darkness?” Brax growls.

Auston shakes his head. “No. But the figure was large, cloaked, and he wore a mask over his face.”

“You sure the perp is male?” I ask as I filter through every man I’ve encountered here at the Academy.

“Mmhmm. I heard him speak, saying something about them finally being together. Together at last…”

“What can you tell us about the surroundings, Auston?” Brax questions. “Even the smallest detail can make a huge difference.”

Auston scrunches up his eyes, searching his memory. “God, I’m not sure guys. I see the white stone slab, I hear water running…” He licks his lips. “It’s also cold, and there was a damp, musty smell. But… Fuck!” He beats his fists into the bridge. “That’s all I’ve got.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Brax says. “But we need to split up and find her. If this is the person that’s been murdering all those people…”

Brax doesn’t finish the sentence. We all know what happens in the end...

But I can’t think like that. Won’t think like that.

“Let’s split up into teams. Search the other dimensions,” I suggest. “Preston and I can take Earth, while you two head into Hell.”

“Fuck that,” Auston spits. “I’m not waiting to search Heaven while we search through Hell. I’m going in without Brax.”

“Auston’s right,” Braxton chimes in. “Waiting for each other will just waste time. Time Hadley might not have. I’m going in alone.”

“Should we tell Administer? Let the professors know what’s going on?” Preston asks.

“No,” Auston responds. “I don’t know why, but something tells me that what is happening is bigger than the Academy. Bigger than anything that’s happened to us since we died. Some plan is in motion, and we are the wheels turning it. No one else can help her. Only us, but we have to put our differences aside and do it together.”

Brax nods. “I feel it too. Not only that, but we don’t know who we can trust. We have no idea who’s taking them. We have no choice but to trust each other right now.”

“Agreed.” Preston nods. “Karston, let's get going.” Preston gestures for me to follow him then heads towards the Academy at a run.

“I’ll see you guys later. Good luck.” Leaving two of my brothers behind, I dematerialize and float after Preston, my mind racing with possibilities.

Will we find Hadley in time?

Or will we be too late to save her?

Chapter 29

Preston

Who has my Hadley? I stifle down the tears, swallow the burn stinging the back of my throat, and try to focus on the land in front of me. We’re back in Sandy Creek, Hadley’s home on Earth.

The task before us is daunting. How can two people—dead people—search the universe for one girl and expect to find her? We have no clues, no leads, other than a musty smell and white stone.

She literally could be anywhere…

“Where should we start?” Karston asks.

I think for a moment. “We could try the quarry by Sandy Creek High School.”

“That’s a good idea,” Karston agrees, slapping me on the back. “That place definitely has white stone. Let’s go.”

I hold out my hand and summon my scythe. I envision where I want to go then point my scythe at the ground. A portal appears in front of me seconds later. “Hold onto me,” I tell my brother. “This might make you feel queasy,” I warn as his fingers give my arm a squeeze.

“Great,” he mumbles, but follows me into the portal. The feeling of weightlessness engulfs me, like free falling during a bungee jump. My stomach tries to fly out of my mouth, but before it can, the feeling is over, and Karston and I are standing on the edge of a large quartz quarry. Around us, machinery lies abandoned and rotting. Buckets from massive excavators litter the ground, and what was once a large crane has toppled over, its giant neck hanging down into the quarry pit.

“Watch your step,” Karston cautions, as we head around one of the many piles of forgotten stone surrounding the canyon. The remnant pieces of quartz glisten in the moonlight, reminding me of a candle’s flickering flame. “Based on Auston’s vision, it’s obvious she’s not outside, so I doubt she’ll be out here. But I think we should check out that building over there.” He points to the rusted compound across the quarry.

“Gotta start somewhere. Lead the way, Kars.”

My brother makes himself translucent and floats around the quarry, his body moving right through the old machines and piles of dirt in the way. My thoughts travel to my sweet Hadley. Who has her, and what are they doing to her? The idea of her suffering, scared, or in pain makes my heart hurt, and I rub my chest to soothe it.

We’ve got to find her, or the Afterlife isn’t worth living.

I pick up my pace, jogging around an old rock truck, when something snags my shoe, and I go flying face first into the ground.

Let me tell you...dirt and grass don’t taste very good.

“Bleh,” I cough, spitting the funk from my mouth.

“You okay, bro?” Karston asks, hurrying over to help me up.

“Yep. You know me—”

“Can’t stand still without running into something. Yeah, I remember.” He laughs at his own joke and offers me his hand. I gladly accept as he pulls me to my feet, laughing along with him. I had forgotten how good it feels to have a relationship with my brother. I-I’ve missed him, as much as I haven’t wanted to admit it.

I brush the dirt off my jeans and pick up my scythe.

“Careful now,” Karston says, tauntingly. “I won’t carry your ass out of here like a child.”

“I don’t want your grimy Ghost hands on me anyway,” I joke back, giving him a mock shudder. He smirks then heads back around the quarry. I focus on the ground in front of me, not wanting any more mishaps.

A few minutes later, we’re standing in front of a set of rusted metal doors. I reach for a knob that may give me tetanus just from looking at it when Karston places his hand on my chest.

“Let me have a look first. Wait here.” Before I can respond, he floats inside the doors, causing my insides to twist. I wonder if that makes him feel sick, doing that all the time.

A loud bang sounds, startling me, then the doors swing open, almost knocking me off my feet.

“Got ‘em,” Karston exclaims. “Come on. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Holding my scythe in front of me, I mutter, “Luminesce,” and the blade begins to emit a blue glow. I hold the weapon aloft and glance around. The room beyond is a factory. Various ramps, which are intricately entwined, lead to feeder machines and others whose functions I can’t even begin to imagine.

It’s fucking creepy in here. The looming metal, rising stories above my head, is coated in dust from years of no use. I’ve never liked machines; something about them freaks me out. Don’t even get me started on robots.

Shudder.

A loud clank sounds behind me, and I almost jump out of my fucking skin, my scythe coming precariously close to crashing into the ground.

“Whoops,” Karston says, picking up a rusted hammer. “Thought this might come in handy.”

“I have my scythe, you twat,” I scold, holding it up for him to see.

“Well, that doesn’t leave me much protection, now does it?” he argues, crossing his arms.

“You’re a fucking Ghost! What could possibly get you?”

“The Darkness,” he mumbles.

I pause. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I found more bodies,” he replies, walking away from me to search the room.

“More bodies?” I exclaim, running after him. “You mean you found some before?”

He stops as I reach him, nodding. “They’re being kept in a hidden room in the Academy. Took Brax to see the first one.”

“When were you going to tell the rest of us, Karston?” I shout, running my fingers through my hair.

“I was going to tell you on the bridge when Hadley showed up, but then she never did and then things got… well… you know.”

“Yeah,” I concede, sighing. “I do. How many bodies are there?” I ask, unsure if I actually want to know the answer.

“Five, Pres. And they’re not just DDs either. There were Angel and Demon third-year students, and a Ghost professor. Seems the Darkness doesn’t discriminate between which of us is tastiest.”

“That’s comforting,” I gripe, walking towards the back wall.

“Then two more in cryo drawers, the ones found hanging in the trees.”

My footsteps stutter. Seven dead? Urgency surges through me. We need to find Hadley and we need to find her now. “Let’s search back there,” I suggest, pointing to the back wall.

I hold up my scythe and head around a massive machine that looks like it could instantly crush me into a can of Spam.

Averting my eyes before I can think more about that, I search along the back wall. Nothing appears out of the ordinary, but I do see another door, this one marked with a “DANGER”’ sign above it.

The floors look undisturbed, with dust blanketing the old tile floor like the grass when Cottonwood trees let their seeds loose.

“I don’t think she’s here, Karston. This place has been deserted for years by the looks of it. Not a footprint or a handprint that isn’t ours lies anywhere. Plus, the doors were rusted shut. If someone had been here with Hadley, there would be some evidence. Something out of place.”

“I still think we should check back there,” he points to the open door, “just to be sure.”

“Okay. You go first.” I gesture to the door, but try to act cool, like I’m not as nervous as I really am. He frowns but walks ahead of me.

“Hold your scythe up higher, I can’t see.”

“If I hold it up any higher, then it’s gonna bump into the ceiling.”

Karston huffs but heads down a rickety flight of stairs, and into the bowels of the factory. The light from my scythe illuminates the room below.

A huge water wheel sits idly in a pool of thick, murky water against the left wall. Its buckets are empty; the water once inside them having evaporated a long time ago.

Slabs of quartz rest on tables in various states of finish. Some have rough, jagged edges. Others are smooth and polished, the light from my weapon reflecting off their dust covered surfaces.

The wheel looms in my peripheral vision. It has to be at least four stories tall. The fucker belongs in a carnival as a Ferris wheel. The sheer size is totally freaking me out.

Karston ignores the wheel and floats around the space while I stay on the stairs, lighting the space for him.

“She’s not here,” he calls back, his worried voice echoing off the walls. “Nothing human—or inhuman, for that matter—has been down here in years.”

“Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.” I turn around and head back up the stairs as a deep groan bellows through the factory, and the giant wheel sloshes a bit in the water.

“Fuck this!” I yell, before booking it back upstairs. When I reach the last stair, my shoe clips the edge, launching me through the air. I catch myself before crashing into the ground, my hands gripping the grate on a large machine. A click sounds, and a second later, a huge metal block falls down the chute. I scream and pull my hands out just in time, the block slamming down onto the grate where my fingers just were.

I don’t wait for Karston. Hell, I don’t even look around for his Ghostly ass, I just tuck my tail and run. Bursting through the doors, I feel the cool night breeze hit my face as my foot slips down the embankment of the quarry canyon.

“Karston!” I shout as I feel myself falling over the edge. I close my eyes and pray to God that it will be over quickly when I feel something snag my shirt collar.

“Gotcha!”

I’ve never been so relieved to be yanked by my neck in my life—or my Afterlife. I flop onto my back and search the stars, breathing heavily.

“You okay, bro?” Karston asks, staring down at me.

“I-I will be,” I respond between pants. “Thank you.”

“Bah. You don’t need to thank me. You would've done the same for me.”

“Yeah, but still…”

The weight of the world sits firmly on my shoulders as our failure to find Hadley hits me. Not that I thought we’d actually find her on Earth. But I’d hoped.

“I don’t think she’s on the mortal plane,” Karston muses, mimicking my own thoughts.

“Me either,” I agree, rubbing my eyes. “There’s nothing left here for people in the Afterlife. Only pain and heartache.”

“Agreed. So I guess that means we should join the others.”

“Probably. I mean, Braxton and Auston can’t be trusted to be on their own,” I say with a laugh. “I’ll find Brax, and you find Auston.”

“Sounds good.”

We’re silent for a moment, lost in our thoughts, thinking of places to look for our girl.

Our girl?

Is that really how I’m viewing her now?

“Pres?” Karston’s voice sounds so small and insecure, so very much unlike him.

“Yeah?”

“What-What if we can’t find her?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, resolve settling deep within me. “Then we die again looking.”

“Well, that sounds fun. What are we waiting for?” Karston stands up and offers me a hand, tugging me to my feet.

“Regardless if we find her or not, meet back at the bridge after you search Heaven with Auston. We can figure out what to do from there.”

“Agreed. And Pres? Be safe,” Karston calls before he vanishes from sight.

“You too, bro,” I whisper to myself, summoning a portal to take me back to the Academy. I’ll have to jump in one of the Demon portals there to go to Hell. Let’s just hope we find her before the monsters lurking down there do.

Chapter 30

Auston

I’m frantic.

Some horrible being has Hadley, the girl I was sworn to protect in life, the girl I would do anything for even in her death. I can still taste her chapstick on my lips, feel her mouth moving against mine.

Dammit.

How could I have let this happen? I let my guard down for one fucking minute, and she’s gone. Taken. While we all fucking waited on that dumbass bridge. I hate feeling helpless. And right now? That’s exactly how I’m feeling.

I saw the vision in my head of where she is. Though unclear, I’m almost certain she’s not in Heaven. A being of Heaven wouldn’t take an innocent girl prisoner…

My gut tells me it’s a Demon, a creature of the dark. Or a Ghost, since they’re known to be sneaky, hiding in plain sight.

But who?

I close my eyes and recall the vision. White stone table, damp, musty smell, sounds of rushing water.

And Hadley.

Strapped to a fucking table like a sacrificial lamb. My mind runs wild, imagining all the horrible things her captor could be doing to her.

With her.

Using her for his own sick fucking pleasure. I’ll fucking kill him if he touches my Hadley. I’ll rip every fucking limb off his body one by one, then I’ll beat his bloodied carcass with them.

I take a deep, calming breath in a futile attempt to slow my racing heart. I can’t enter Heaven with thoughts of murder on my mind. I’ll never make it in.

“Slow and steady. Slow and steady,” I chant my calming mantra and clear my thoughts before summoning my halo to bring me to Heaven. Once I feel the heat radiating above my head, I wish to be brought to Heaven and am quickly whisked away. The feeling of entering Heaven is so vastly different from leaving. It’s pleasant, like being engulfed by a soft, cozy blanket in the middle of winter.

It’s comforting, soothing, peaceful.

And all the things I’m not feeling at this particular moment. For once, I wish I wasn’t a Guardian, but maybe a Demon instead. Then I could release my wrath on the creatures of Hell, slicing my way through monsters instead of letting the anger fester inside me like a colony of skittering insects.

Bursting through the clouds, I stretch out my wings and soar overhead. The stark white buildings of Serenity reaches high into the bright blue sky along the horizon. Serenity is the first place I thought of when my vision hit me. It’s the only place in Heaven that is made completely of white stone.

My wings beat fiercely as I move through the air like a fucking missile on a flight path for my destination. Because that’s exactly how I feel, like I might explode at any minute.

I tuck my head down and keep my eyes open, my senses on high alert. I refuse to let anyone’s piqued interest, anyone’s nosiness, distract me from my mission.

I have to find Hadley.

Luckily, the airways are clear with only a few Guardians flying about, so ignoring the Angels is quite easy. As the peaked turrets of the Serenity Cathedral come into view, I know that’s the first place I’m going to check. All churches have a stone table upon their altars. Though I don’t think my missing girl is inside this particular one, I still hold on to a string of hope that she might be.

I veer to my right, aiming for the bell tower. If I enter through there, then I can bypass the main entrance, and the fawning Angels flanking it. One would think being in Heaven, we’d all be created equal. But being a Guardian is like being a celebrity, everyone wants a piece. As a hot commodity, even among Angels, we are stalked to some degree. Everyone wants to touch us, feel our feathers, watch as we summon our halos, or our golden bow and arrows.

As if we were fucking cupid or something, bespelling them with a quick arrow through the heart. More like I want to shove one up their asses. I just need everyone to leave me the hell alone. I can’t help that my position is coveted, but sometimes I wish I was like Kars and could just become invisible to the rest of them.

Stretching out my wings behind me, I slow my speed and flutter them a few times before landing in an archway of the bell tower. The platinum bell hangs ominously in front of me. I scurry around the monster and hurry down the white stone steps, before this fucker goes off, giving me what I’m sure would be permanent hearing loss.

The bottom landing comes quickly, and I wonder for a moment if I perhaps flew down the stairs in my haste. I stride over to the door that leads to a corridor off the main part of the church. Gripping the handle, I push and the door opens soundlessly. I narrow my eyes and scan the area, ensuring my solitude before proceeding.

After verifying I’m alone, I tuck my wings in tight against my back and sneak through, shutting the door quietly behind me. The corridor to the main building is beautiful, the covered bridge stretching out before me. The floors and ceiling are made of white stone, and the walls are a series of open arches, allowing the wind to blow through my long hair as I pass. I pull my hair up into a bun on top of my head and continue to the end.

“There’s Auston!” I hear someone shout.

“Hurry, get inside and we might catch him,” another voice chimes in.

Fuck.

I scurry through the opposing door and rush across the main building. Pews line the floor, rows and rows of them. There is enough seating in here to hold several thousand Angels at a single moment. I look around frantically, trying to find a place to hide where they won’t look. My eyes land on the rafters above the altar.

Bingo.

Flying quickly, I perch myself in a corner just as the doors burst open, and a flock of Angels rushes inside. They search frantically, looking behind every statue, and every decorative flower basket. They even have the audacity to search behind the stone crucifix standing proudly on the back of the altar.

“Where did he go?” an overly shrill voice asks.

“He can’t have gone far,” another says, hope clear in her voice.

“Look for feathers.”

Fuck, my feathers.

I search the floor and spot one laying smack on top of the altar’s table. I just hope it blends into the stone, and they won’t think to search the ceiling. Barely breathing, I will them to leave, pray for them to forget what they came in here for.

“Boo,” a voice whispers in my ear, and I almost fall off my perch.

“Karston? What the fu—heck are you doing here?”

My brother smirks. “Helping you, of course. Pres and I had no luck on Earth. We checked the only place we could think of with white stone that Hadley would be familiar with but... not a trace of Hadley there.”

“I don’t think we’ll find her here either, but I had to try, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” he agrees. “But, umm... Why are you hiding?”

I point below us. “From them. They think I’m a buffet, and they all want a bite.”

“Oh. Well, we can’t let them touch my precious angelic brother. We have a mission to complete. Allow me.”

“Wait,” I whisper-shout, but he disappears before my eyes.

Moments later, I see him reappear outside the cathedral doors. He’s slicked back his hair, his blond locks light enough that he could be mistaken for an Angel if you weren’t looking closely.

“Looking for me, ladies?” Karston lowers his voice, mimicking my own, and I have to stifle a laugh. Do I really sound like an arrogant ass?

Probably.

“Auston!” a younger Angel shouts, her light hair flowing behind her as she chases after fake me.

“Come and find me, ladies! First one to catch me gets me all to themselves for the night.”

A series of high-pitched squeals reverberate off the walls, rocking my brain around in my head. Karston ducks outside as soon as the first girl breaches the doorframe. A few seconds later, he materializes right next to me.

“Problem solved,” he says, wiping his hands. “Any ideas where to search in here?”

“Well, considering this is the only building in Heaven I could think of that’s made of white stone and has a stone table, I thought she could possibly be here, but there’s not a trace of her. Not that I actually thought there would be. Someone as evil as the fu—person that kidnapped her would not be welcomed in Heaven.”

“Agreed. Let’s get out of here and see if Brax found anything in Hell.”

“You know… I somehow doubt Hell has any white tables,” I comment. Karston belly laughs at this.

“I think you might be right, but regardless, I’ll be on pins and needles to see if they found anything.”

“Me too, bro. Take my hand and let—”

My vision darkens, and the world around me ceases to exist as a premonition crashes through my mind.

The view is murky at first, but like an old polaroid picture, it slowly comes into focus. I’m hovering over Hadley. Details I had not seen in my other vision unveil themselves. Hadley lies on a white stone altar, not a table. A mask covers her eyes, leaving her unseeing. Her arms are strapped down above her head, hiking her sweatshirt up over her abdomen. Her legs are also secured at the ankles, and the tiny sleeping shorts she’s wearing leaves almost nothing to the imagination.

Her stomach is quivering as if she’s crying, and her lips are pulled back in a grimace. Sounds start to filter through the vision, muffled at first, then clearing as rapidly as they came.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Hadley shouts. “I would never be with someone like you! You can rot in fucking hell!”

“We will rot together, for eternity.” I swivel my head and see the cloaked figure hunched on a throne beyond the altar, carved out of the same, bright white stone. “With me by your side, there will be nothing to stop us.”

“I’ll fucking kill you when I get out of this. My guys—mentors—will fucking kill you.” Hadley’s screams echo off the wall.

“They’ll never find us.” He trails a finger up her leg and she tugs at the restraints, trying to get away from his touch. “I’ve taken you somewhere hidden at the Academy, somewhere I saw in a premonition.” His hand slides between her legs and up to her belly button, which he circles with a finger. “A place only few know about and even less can reach.”

“Stop fucking touching me!” Hadley shrieks, throwing all her weight around on the table, her knuckles turning white from how hard she’s squeezing.

The man chuckles, leaning down close to her face. “You are in no position to give me orders, not yet. Soon, I will be yours to do with as you please. But until you come into your own, give in to your potential, I’m forced to take control of every fucking inch of your body.”

He slides his hand under her sweatshirt, pushing it up, and my heart skips a beat.

“Get your fucking hands off me, dammit!” she cries out, trying to jerk away as he squeezes her breast.

“Fine,” he bites out, jerking his hand back “If you don’t want to play nice, we’ll do this the hard way. I was going to provoke you through lust, but if it’s wrath you crave, then so be it.”

The asshole straightens, leaving the underside of her breasts uncovered by her shirt. I think he’s giving her a moment’s reprieve, but I’m fooled. The fucker pulls his hand back and connects his palm with the side of her face. Hadley’s head jerks, blood gushing from her split lip. He strikes out again, backhanding her this time. She cries out, her face already bruising, and swelling by the minute.

“Is this what you want? My anger instead of my devotion?”

“No,” she spits, blood flying from her lips, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I want you to fucking die!”

“Not before I show you all you can be.” His hand slithers around her neck and squeezes. Hadley chokes, thrashing, desperate for air. Seeing her like this hurts so badly I think my heart might burst. “Let’s see how much you like it when I try to kill you, when I control your air as much as your body. My bet is you’ll show me your true colors.”

Hadley’s face darkens, her cheeks reddening. Her movements grow less and less frequent until she lies unmoving on the table.

“Let me serve you. Let me be with you… Us, together forever,” the creep whispers devoutly.

As abruptly as it came, the vision vanishes, and I’m once again in the rafters of Serenity Cathedral with Karston. I feel gutted, torn apart, my heart barely beating in my fear for Hadley. I look over at my brother. Worry mars his features, his expression likely mimicking my own. After all, we’re identical.

“Well? What did you see?” he asks impatiently.

“We need to get back to the Academy. I’ll tell you on the way.” I summon my halo and grip on to Karston’s arm. Soon, we’re free falling through the sky, heading back to the Academy where I’ll have to relive those horrors. Where I’ll have to break his fucking heart and tell him the girl we adore might have taken her last breath.

Chapter 31

Braxton

I’d bet my left wing she’s not in Hell. There is nothing down here that’s remotely white like the table in Auston’s vision, unless you count the white-hot flames that burn so fiercely it feels as if they might melt your eyeballs.

But I’ll look.

If there’s even a slight possibility that Hadley is down there, I’ll look. After spending the best moment of my life—or Afterlife, for that matter—with that girl, I’d go to the ends of the Earth to find her and ensure her safety.

Tucking my wings in, I lower myself to the ground in front of the well in the cemetery. I peer down into the oblivion beyond, the swirling black vortex between me and Hell beckoning me. Not wanting to waste any time, I jump on in.

Weightlessness engulfs me but only for a moment. I try and focus on that feeling, because anything is better than actually feeling my heart dying inside me at the thought of my sweet Hadley in the clutches of a deranged kidnapper. Doing Hell knows what to her. Hurting her. Touching her.

I swear on my very soul that when I find them, I’ll kill them. And if they have harmed her, I will cut their fingers off one by one and shove them down their throats. Then, I’ll call on my fire and cook them alive while their screams play like music around me.

Hell rises up quickly beneath my feet, and I loosen my legs as I plummet in preparation for landing. The heat hits me first, sweltering temperatures that most would find unbearable, but I don’t mind. As soon as I earned my ability to summon fire, the heat didn’t affect me like it used to.

The corpses of the Hellhounds I killed alongside the other third years when Darren was injured have long since been eaten away by other monsters of the dark. Only a few hunks of burnt flesh and charred bone remain, littered across the rocky floor.

I close my eyes and open my senses, hoping to hear or sense something out of place. But when I close my eyes, all I see is Hadley, her body stretched beautifully off that cave rock, the flush covering her skin when she came for me.

Those thoughts quickly morph into something more sinister, more evil. The murderer who killed so many others throughout the past month has my girl. I guess a part of me should be grateful that he didn’t hang her or remove her essence like the rest of them. Maybe that means there’s still hope she will survive this.

Then what exactly are his plans for her?

There’s no doubt in my mind that there are two murderers. The body in that hidden morgue beneath the school was killed in a vastly different way than the corpse Hadley and I found swinging in the trees, making it clear there are two. The Darkness… and whoever the hell is hanging people. I suppose the most important question is: which one has my Hadley? The Darkness? Or a regular, everyday murderer? Neither one strikes fear in me, only the fact that they have my girl fuels my terror.

Not picking up anything remotely helpful, I open my eyes and scan my surroundings. The same cavern as before greets me. The opening beyond still houses the giant wall of flames. If I head that way, I’ll go back to that massive wall with tunnels scattered on its face where those skittering, spider-like creatures attacked the other Demons and myself only a few weeks ago. Thankfully, the wound in my thigh has healed due to Afterlife super healing abilities, though Darren is still on the mend. Having your entire leg inside a monster is not something I’d recommend trying.

Deciding I would never survive heading into those tunnels alone, I turn back towards the wall behind me and head through an auxiliary tunnel we searched during our second year. Beyond the dark walls is a lava canyon, the only place I could think of in Hell that might have anything that sounds like running water.

As I make my way through the dark and narrow shaft, the light from the cavern dissipates. Not wanting to creep anywhere in Hell in darkness, I summon my flames. They ignite in my palm, lighting the way. I hold my hand up and illuminate the tunnel, allowing me to see any hint of glimmering eyes that might be watching me. When I’m not met with any lurking gazes, I’m almost disappointed. I’m very much looking forward to chopping heads off some bodies to alleviate this anger swirling around inside me.

The heat increases, and my body responds, sweat making my skin tacky. I pull off my shirt and toss it behind me—no need for that here. Hell, I’d strip my pants off too if I wasn’t worried about some terrifying creatures biting my dick off.

I like my dick.

Light seeps through from the other end of the tunnel, and I know I’m getting close to the lava canyon. My feet speed up, anxiousness pouring through me at the thought that Had could be just on the other side. Maybe I’ve been stupid to think she’s not in Hell and the cost of my ignorance could be her life.

Angry with myself, I run towards the end and burst through the opening into the lava canyon. I haven’t been back since my second year, but I find it just as overwhelming as the first time I saw it.

There’s not just one word I can use to describe this place. Haunting, hot, and harrowing, the canyon is a matrix of interwoven lava rivers that descend out of fissures in the walls and surge out of the ground like fucking fountains. A main lava shaft sits high in a wall, on the far side of the canyon, spewing the molten rock from its maw and down into the canyon below.

Sounds of the rapidly moving red liquid reach my ears. Crackling and popping as it rumbles around the narrow corners of the rivers, spewing over sharp turns. The rock in here burns bright white from its proximity to the heat, which is the reason I thought to look here in the first place. Craters litter the ground, making pools of lava that mimic stars as far as my eyes can see.

Spreading my wings, I jump off the ledge and soar through the steam-filled canyons, looking for any sign of life. But through the veils of fog and rivers of lava, hissing as it flows under me, I see no signs of life. Not even the monsters of Hell come in here because there is nothing to sustain them.

I decide to give the area another sweep when I notice something I didn’t see before.

A person is standing at the entrance, perched on the ledge.

“What the fuck?” I mutter to myself before veering off towards the ledge. I narrow my eyes and see a man holding a scythe above his head, the blade glowing a bright blue.

“Preston?” I call, as I fly towards him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Surprise!” He waves his weapon like a flagger at an airport as if I couldn’t see him.

Fucking Preston.

Beads of sweat pour down his face in droves, his white shirt wet from perspiration. His green eyes dart around, taking everything in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, landing softly beside him. “And where is Karston? Did you guys find anything on Earth?”

“Whoa there, Brax. One question at a time.” He lowers his blade and runs his hand through his hair. With a sigh, he tells me, “No, we didn’t find anything. Not a trace of Hadley. I didn’t think we would though. Whoever has her wouldn’t have gone through portals to get her back to Earth.”

“That’s what I think too,” I agree, retracting my leathery wings behind me. “There’s no way we're finding her down here. I mean, look at you. Already melting from all this heat. Only Demons can tolerate it for any length of time. And since the kidnapper hasn’t hung her in Auston’s vision like the rest of the victims—”

“He obviously wants her alive,” Preston finishes for me.

“But why?” The question has been plaguing me.

“I don’t know, but I’m fucking grateful he does. She’s strong, she’ll fight for her life now just like she did on Earth,” Preston asserts.

“I know she will, I’d expect nothing less from her.” I let out a mixture of a growl and a groan and brush my hair out of my eyes. “There’s nothing more to see down here. Let’s head back up and find the others.”

Preston follows behind me as I maneuver back through the tunnel leading to the main cavern. I hear him mutter something behind me, and his blade lights up. It’s almost like he has magic, which I guess is pretty cool, but scary in Preston’s clumsy hands.

Extending my arm, I call on my sword instead of my fire this time, wanting to be armed in case any rogue monsters find us. The tattoo on my forearm burns, then cools as the blade appears in my hand.

Guess I kinda have magic of my own.

A series of weird chitters float down the tunnel, like a bunch of birds talking to each other, only much more sinister.

“Wha-What the fuck was that?” Preston stutters behind me.

“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out.”

I swirl my blade in my hand a few times then hold it up, gripping the hilt in both hands in case I need to attack.

Another scurry of chitters flows down the tunnel, louder this time, confirming what I already knew—we’re not getting out of here without a fight.

Igniting a fireball, I launch it down the shaft and into the cavern, causing the room to illuminate, but only for a moment. Dozens of dark figures stand idly inside. A high-pitched screech sounds as my fire hits a target, but my flames quickly die out and the room beyond once again becomes eerily silent.

That’s when it dawns on me…

“Preston, turn off your damn scythe.”

“Like hell I will!” he snaps, holding the blade up higher.

“No, you don’t understand,” I implore, dropping my voice to a whisper. “The creatures out there, I’ve encountered them once before. They’re drawn to bright light, so they have probably been following you since you entered Hell.”

“What kind of Hell creatures are drawn to light?” he asks, snuffing his scythe.

“They are Verniquins. And they’re vicious.”

“And what the fuck are those?” His voice gets more high-pitched as fear sets in.

Ignoring him, I continue, “The key with Verniquin is to be as silent as possible. If you move too loudly or quickly, they will hear you and attack. They have no visible eyes, relying on their sense of hearing to guide them.”

“May I breathe?”

“At your own peril,” I answer him honestly. “Now, the portal back to the Academy is going to be just beyond them. Fifty feet separates us from safety and finding Hadley. Please, Preston. I need you now more than ever not to be clumsy. Our lives are on the fucking line this time.”

“I-I’ll try.” His voice shakes, and I know he’s forking his fingers through his hair like he always does when he’s nervous.

“Okay. Follow me. If they startle, hold still and they will lose you.”

“Just like Jurassic Park,” Preston mumbles. I ignore him and creep to the edge of the tunnel. The firepit beyond the cavern illuminates enough of the cave for me to see the Verniquin.

Grotesque, distorted humanoid bodies come into view, hideous, gray, and hairless. Their limbs are bent at unnatural angles, and their heads are comprised of only a giant mouth, adorned by rows and rows of sharp fangs. They are disturbing, to say the least. There must be a hundred of them spread around the chamber, making our passage out very difficult.

I can feel my brother shudder behind me. “Holy shit,” he whispers, getting his first glance at the creatures.

“Mind their hands, Pres. Instead of fingers, they wield another set of jaws to bite their prey. And its body oozes a pus that bursts from boils along its skin. If any of the pus gets on you, it will eat away at you like acid until it creates a hole in your skin.”

“That’s comforting,” he whispers sarcastically.

“Just… remember what I said,” I say, my voice growing impatient. I don’t have time for his shit right now. “Slow and quiet.”

“Okay.”

“Follow my lead.” I keep my sword drawn but lower the blade, tucking it neatly beside my leg, and begin to move through the crowd of Verniquin. The first one stands about four feet in front of the opening.

Careful where I place my feet, I slip into the cavern and press my back against the right wall. I slide down a few steps, allowing Preston to come in beside me. I can hear his panting, his anxiety getting the better of him, but I can’t try to calm him down or the monsters might hear me.

I take a step forward, then dodge right. A Verniquin chitters from across the room, and I still, Preston freezing behind me with his hand on my back. When they don’t move to attack, I continue.

I pass through a pair, having to turn sideways to avoid touching their displaced limbs. The slightest brush will set them off, a fallen eyelash or piece of hair, and they attack like piranhas. I’ve never been more grateful for the wall of flames and the noises it makes as it covers up Preston’s panting.

Behind the pair Verniquin is a large space. I let out a silent breath when I successfully pass between them, then I turn and wait for Preston to maneuver through. He joins me and lets out an exhale that has me clenching my teeth.

“Shut up,” I mouth, glaring at him. He simply shrugs in response, making me roll my eyes. Turning away from him, I gauge the distance to the portal. Twenty feet, maybe a bit more.

We can do this.

A cluster of them block my way, their lanky limbs outstretched to make moving around them impossible. I’ll have to go under their arms.

I slowly sink to my knees, then crawl below the canopy of limbs. A pus-filled boil on the leg of the nearest Verniquin threatens to burst in my face. I turn a blind eye and force myself to keep moving quietly past them. I make it and let out an exhale, then stand back up and face Preston behind me. I watch as he crawls along the same path I took.

Except his turn doesn’t go as smoothly.

The boil on the Verniquin’s leg bursts, sending the acid-like pus squirting at Preston’s leg. He shrieks as the ooze starts searing his skin, and chaos ensues. I pull him to his feet as he’s trying to strip his pants off, and a Verniquin attacks, snapping jaws coming at us.

Thinking fast, I swing my sword up and cut through its neck. The head goes flying off, and the body collapses. A few Verniquin attack the rolling head and we duck under a set of arms. One biting hand lands on my shoulder, ripping the skin from my body. Another digs into Preston’s side, causing him to scream in agony.

“Preston, duck!” I shout as a gaping mouth descends where his head just was. I summon my fire and raise my sword. To my utter shock, the blade of my sword catches fire like a fucking flame thrower.

With a shout, I thrust it into the Verniquin lunging at my brother. Its body ignites like it was comprised of gasoline. Screeching, limbs flailing, it runs around the room blindly. Any creature it touches bursts into flames alongside it.

More chitters and screeching erupt as the Verniquins ignite like wildfire, their fang-filled jaws snapping at each other as well as us. Preston says something to his scythe, and it glows a bright green. He wields it over his head like a fucking light saber and slices it through the bellies of several Verniquin. They go down in a shrieking heap.

“Come on!” I shout, motioning for him to follow me. I chop and stab, slaying my way through the monsters trying to attack us. Preston follows behind me, fighting with a ferocity I didn’t think he had.

The portal looms up ahead.

“We’re out of time, Pres!” I yell, grabbing his collar and hurling him towards the opening. As I jump behind him, a Verniquin launches itself at my legs. I feel the fangs on its hands sink into my ankle and I slice down, cutting off its arm just as the vortex swirls me back up to the Academy.

Preston and I land with a thud, rolling onto our backs as we lay there side by side, panting and sweating. Me with no shirt and my brother with, well, no pants. I lift my leg and see my ankle, the jaws of the Verniquin’s hand still embedded into my boot. I pull it off and toss it aside before flopping back onto my back.

Pride surges inside me when I think about how well Pres fought back there, even though I know he was scared shitless.

“You did good, Pres,” I pant. “Real good. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Neither did I,” he admits with a chuckle. “I thought we were going to die back there.”

“I’ve already died with you once, and I have no plans on doing it again,” I joke, trying to ease the tension between us. I’ve just realized how much I’ve missed my brothers over the past two years. Guilt threatens to swallow me, thinking of how badly I’ve treated them since we arrived here.

“Well, we can finally agree on something,” he says. “Come on, let’s go find the others.”

With a groan, he heaves himself up off the ground to stand. Pres offers me his hand. I take it and allow him to haul me up, surprised by his strength. Seems the Afterlife has done him well.

I dip my head towards him in thanks and turn back, heading for the bridge, when I hear him mumble, “Uhh, Brax?”

“Yeah?” I answer without turning around.

“Do you have any pants I can borrow?”

Chapter 32

Karston

The moment Auston said “white throne,” I knew where they were.

The tunnels.

As my feet hit the grass near the West Woods, I’m off at a run, heading to the bridge to meet my brothers. Auston flies on ahead of me, anxious to tell them my plan for finding and rescuing Hadley before that cloaked fucker hurts her anymore. My blood boils just thinking about his grimy hands on my Hadley. I don’t envy Auston. Having to watch her like that would’ve killed me.

The sun is rising over the horizon, causing the sky to blaze in gorgeous shades of yellow and orange. Its beauty angers me. Nothing cheerful should be allowed to exist when such horrors are taking place.

My Hadley is in the grips of some unknown mass murderer who has no fucking respect for the Afterlife or those trying to maintain it.

Pontem Veritas looms ahead, its dark stone a stark contrast against the sunrise shining behind it. Auston lands, his head swiveling around, looking for our brothers.

“Over here!” I recognize Braxton’s voice shouting from the opposite side of the bridge. He looks like shit, shirtless with sweat pouring down his body. His pants have tears along them, and cuts along his body are bleeding. But nothing is as bad as his shoulder. It’s seeping blood, so much so that I can’t even make out any of his skin. The blood drips down his arm, making it look like someone dumped a can of red paint on his arm.

Preston hurries behind him, looking even worse. His side is glistening with red blood that drips down his… bare legs?

He’s not wearing pants.

Why is Preston not wearing pants?

“What the fuck happened to you guys?” Auston asks, his words laced with concern.

“Verniquin,” Brax tells him, shaking out dark strands of hair from his eyes. “There had to be at least a hundred of them. We barely made it.”

“And Preston’s pants?” Auston inquires.

“A casualty of the fight,” Preston responds with a shrug. Up close, I can see angry welts dotted along his legs, and I wonder what kind of monster could have caused that.

“Any sign of our girl?” Brax asks. Then I realize what he said.

Our girl?

Is that what she’s become? I search inside myself, looking for any anger or jealousy at the idea of sharing her with my quadruplets, but I can’t find any. If anything, I feel at peace, as if this was how it was always supposed to be. It’s almost as if Hadley was the key to unlocking our anger, our hatred towards each other. She came into our lives and opened a new door for us to have a fresh start.

“I know where she is,” I reveal. “There’s a secret passage in the Premonition classroom. Come on.”

Not waiting for the questions that I’m sure will follow, I make myself transparent and hover, rushing over the grounds, through the dorms, between the trees in the North Woods, and into the Academy. I don’t wait for my brothers, wanting to get inside before the students begin emerging for the day.

Passing through the classroom door, I feel my adrenaline surge. I become visible again, and my fingers begin to shake as I grasp at the grate inside the fireplace. But the fucker is stuck.

I turn around, frantic, and find the poker used to stoke the fire. The iron handle feels cold in my palm as I tighten my fingers around it and begin to pry at the grate. I just know Hadley’s down here, in one of the rooms inside the tunnels.

The door flies open, and my winged brothers enter.

“What the fuck was that about?” Auston fumes.

“I didn’t want to waste anymore time. Now, how about using some of those gargantuan muscles and fucking help me?”

Auston opens his mouth to respond, but words lodge in his throat, and he pushes me out of the way. I fall on my ass as he squats beside the grate, threading his fingers inside the metal.

He groans as he pulls, so Brax joins him, the muscles in his back straining as they try to move the jammed metal.

“St-Step aside,” an out of breath Preston demands, his scythe raised, the end pointing at the grate.

Auston and Braxton share a wide-eyed glance then back up, allowing Preston to take charge.

“Explosio,” he speaks clearly. The blade on his weapon glows red before a blast shoots from the end, incinerating the metal grate. Preston raises the blade to his lips and blows. “Problem solved.”

Auston, Brax, and I look at each other, astonished. Our shy little quad is really coming into his own as a Reaper.

“Follow me.” I push myself through my brothers and jump down the gaping hole and into the antechamber. I walk forward, allowing the others to land behind me. The antechamber looks just as it did last time. Old tiles, cracked and broken, litter the floor. Up ahead looms the archway leading to the much larger chamber.

I stand on the edge of the archway and look out, narrowing my eyes as I search through the labyrinth of passages, glowing green from an unknown light source.

“What is this place?” Preston wonders behind me.

“One of many secret places I’ve found in the Academy,” I tell him. “I just have a feeling she’s down here. I’ve seen statues in this maze made of white stone. My gut tells me it’s the same stuff Auston saw in his premonition.”

“Should we split up, each take a different path?” Pres queries.

“I think we should stay together,” Auston suggests. “Who knows what dangers lurk down here. We’re already missing Hadley, I don’t want to see one of you guys go missing too.”

“Aww. Would you miss us, Angel face?” Brax teases.

“Auston’s right,” I affirm, ignoring Braxton’s jest. “This place is easy to get lost in. If I weren't a Ghost, I might still be stuck down here.”

“Okay. Kars, since you’ve been here before, you should lead the way. The rest of us will be right behind you,” Brax says, flexing his dark wings behind his back.

The floor in the antechamber is maybe ten feet below this one. I jump off the ledge and land with a thud, quickly heading to my right. This path weaves around the perimeter of the labyrinth, or at least I think it does. My quads’ footsteps thump behind me as I hustle, winding my way around.

The face of the screaming lady comes into view. She was the first statue I found down here. Sad and depressing, it’s made of a bright stone. She cradles her face, her eyes obscured by her hands. Realistic fingernails dig into her skin, tearing at her flesh, and her mouth is open in a silent scream of terror.

“Is this the stone you saw?” I ask Auston.

His eyes narrow, taking it in. “No. It’s not white enough. This has veins of black running through it. The stone I saw in my vision was bright white, sparkling even.”

Abandoning the screaming lady, I head back the way we came, remembering when I came across stone like that before. Instead of going straight, I take a sharp left through an archway in the wall. We pass a dried up fountain with those creepy cherub children with mournful eyes that seem to follow you when you move. I make my way around it, my heart racing in my chest, and head through a hidden opening between two statues of dueling monsters, which I have no name for.

The path behind them is a series of zigzags that have no pattern.

Five feet, turn the corner.

Ten feet, turn again.

It takes several minutes to weave through them before we exit into a narrow corridor. Dormant torches hang off the stone, igniting when we pass under them and causing flickering shadows to dance across the high walls.

“Not much farther,” I shout behind me. The path veers right and abruptly ends. Ahead of us is a door with no handle. Smooth, pale stone glistens in the eerie green light.

Flanking the door are large, rectangular stones which make up an endless wall, rising stories above our heads. Stone trees, seemingly carved out of one large piece of stone, loom over us, at least fifteen feet tall. Their leafless limbs are ominously still. It’s quite haunting to say the least, and I know haunting. I’m a fucking Ghost.

“Auston, come up here,” I call, gesturing for my Angel brother to join me. “What about this?”

His eyes widen, and he nods. “Yes, this is what I saw.” He reaches out to touch the stone, and it shudders under his touch. “Look out!” he shouts, as a piece of stone plummets to the ground in front of us. “Whoa.” He bends down, picking up a miniature statue of an Angel. Its face looks so much like my brother’s, surrounded by long, white hair. He has a bow and arrow too, the arrow nocked. His mouth is opened as if shouting a battle cry. I glance up, thinking I might find the reason for the falling stone, but the only thing I see is endless darkness.

Stunned, he holds it out to us, then his eyes go white and his face slackens.

A premonition.

It’s over in seconds, his eyes once again the arctic blue I’m used to seeing.

“We all have to touch the door. Brax, you go next.”

Not wasting a second, Brax shoulders his way to the door and raises his uninjured arm, placing his palm on the smooth stone. Again, the door shudders. Then, as if summoned by magic, a secret door in the tree trunk slides open, and a statue rests inside it. Brax walks over to investigate.

“It’s a Demon,” Brax says, pulling it out of the tree. Auston grabs it and spins it in his hand. Like the Angel statue, this one is also ready for battle, his sword held high in preparation to attack.

“Pres, you’re up.” Auston nods towards the door as he gives Brax his statue back. Preston runs his fingers through his hair and takes a tentative step towards the stone. His hand shakes as he raises it up and rests it on the smooth surface. I look to Auston, and follow his gaze as he watches the door.

A low hum sounds and a section of rectangular stone lining the sides of the door turns in on itself, revealing a statue on the other side.

A Reaper.

His scythe is raised over his head, and his messy hair is flying about his face as he shouts some unheard words. Auston turns his stare to me, his icy gaze burning holes into me.

He juts his chin towards the door, telling me to take my turn. My quads watch with rapt attention while I place my hand on the door. Nothing happens at first, and I think I fucking broke it. But then a piece of tile on the ground shatters and a pillar a foot wide rises up from the broken mess. It stops when it reaches eye level, and resting on top is a statue.

My statue.

Daggers poised, a battle cry falling from stone lips, the Ghost is a perfect depiction of me, down to the hair.

“Draw your weapons, brothers,” Auston tells us. Preston calls his scythe, swirling the staff around in his surprisingly nimble fingers. Brax holds out his arm, his tattoo melting from his skin and forming a blade in his palms. Auston goes next, his bow appearing in his outstretched hand, with a quiver of golden arrows perched upon his hip. Then I join them, my hands splayed in front of me, daggers appearing in them seconds later.

We stand in a circle. Auston holds out his bow, and we all follow suit until all our weapons are touching, their powers combined. The second the last weapon joins, deep rumbles sound again as if the room has come to life. On the other side of the door, a stone opposite of Preston’s statue twists, leaving a vacant space. Auston takes his statue and places it on the brick. As he does, a second pillar breaks through the ground, flanking the door, opposite the first one, its top vacant and waiting.

Brax places his Demon statue on top of the empty pillar then backs up when the entire scene in front of us begins to shake as if it’s suffering from its own earthquake. A second later, the bright, sparkling stone door collapses through the floor, giving us an unobscured view of the room beyond.

As the dust clears, a table, no, an altar comes into view, and our Hadley lies motionless on top of it.

Chapter 33

Preston

“Hadley!” My voice breaks when I see her lying there, her body seemingly broken. I run towards her, tears filling my eyes and obscuring my vision as I take in her prone form. I delicately brush a strand of hair off her face. “Hadley, it’s me, Preston.” Her face is almost unrecognizable as angry contusions meld with the red swelling on her face. Black bruising under her eyes makes me think her nose might even be broken.

Dried blood coats her lips, streams of it crusting down her chin to her sweatshirt. A red ring surrounds the skin on her neck, a tell that whoever bound her here had choked her.

Hard.

I place my finger on her neck and feel a steady pulse. I close my eyes, tears of joy leaking down my face.

“She’s okay. She’s okay.” I don’t know if I’m saying that more to reassure my brothers or myself at this point. Karston slices through the binds on her wrists while Brax cuts through the ones on her ankles. Chafed skin covers her joints, a sign of her struggles against them.

Auston scoops her up in his arms, cradling her small form against his chest. Brax and Karston’s eyes scour every crevice in the room, looking for the enemy who took her. The wall beyond the altar has a river of water flowing over it and through the ground below, causing a steady sound of rushing water. In front of that is the throne. Carved with intricate filigree, the stone chair dominating the space. An unforgiving seat for the one burdened to use it.

“Any sign of her captor?” I ask, glancing around the stone room.

“Nothing. It’s like he just vanished.” Anger paints Brax’s face. He wants to find the one responsible for this and pound the fuck out of them, I’m sure. I know we all do. I can feel Auston’s rage radiating off him like a fucking furnace. He actually saw what that sick fuck did. Having now seen the aftermath of her time with him, I can’t even imagine how he’s feeling.

Probably devastated, irate, helpless...

And hurt.

And a little relieved.

Maybe that’s just me. Auston’s face is lowered, his forehead resting on top of Hadley’s as he whispers softly to her. I wonder what he’s saying.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Brax says, his eyes darting around the room one final time.

Auston cuddles Hadley tightly to his chest and follows Brax out of the room. Lowering my scythe, I walk over the collapsed door and weave through the tunnels with Auston’s wings in my face.

Thoughts of her predator ravage my mind. Who was he, and where was he when we showed up? It’s almost as if he was warned that we were on our way, that some sinister alarm told him to leave.

Just the idea of that makes me shiver.

With the Darkness still threatening the school, you can’t be too careful. Add the serial killer who’s hanging souls left and right, and the Academy has become a damn playground for murderers.

I don’t trust anyone. Well. Besides my brothers. But even that trust is fragile. After not speaking with them since our arrival here, rekindling our fractured relationship will take some time.

Brax leads us out through the tunnels and up through the floor grate. Auston heads to the medical wing where we reluctantly hand Hadley off to the nurse on duty who’s been taking care of the sick since I’ve been at the Academy. She’s shocked to learn our story and immediately begins to treat our girl.

IVs are placed in her pale hand and ice packs are held on her face. Medicine is given through the IV’s to reduce swelling and give her fluids. The nurse ushers us out of the room so she can get her changed into a gown and out of her bloody clothes.

We’re all reluctant to leave, but the nurse promises we can wait outside the door.

So that’s what we do.

Karston and I sit on one side of the hall in chairs facing Hadley’s door, and Brax and Auston sit opposite us.

My eyelids begin to feel heavy, and I realize I haven't slept for almost two days, between my time on Earth searching for Hadley and almost getting smashed by obsolete machinery, then my wonderful trip to Hell where I had to battle a fleet of Verniquin.

Let’s face it.

I’m fucking beat.

Maybe I can just close my eyes for a little bit while the nurse cleans her up…

* * *

Voices jar me awake.

I glance up at the clock on the wall and realize I’ve been sleeping for hours. And by “I,” I mean “we.” My brothers are all passed out, slumped in their chairs. Auston even has his head lying on Braxton’s shoulder. Where’s a camera when you need one, because this is the kind of blackmail that got me all their desserts as a kid.

“I did it for you. All those people I killed… was for you,” a voice sounds from behind Hadley’s door. It’s vaguely familiar and aggravates me, but I can’t figure out why.

“You failed me, servant,” a disembodied voice hisses, sounding inhuman. The raspy tones sends shivers along my spine. “They still live. You failed me.”

“But I—”

“Silence! I do not allow fools into my service.” Movement behind the door has me jumping to my feet. Whoever is speaking in there isn’t Hadley or her nurse.

“I-I promise I’ll do better next time. I-I saw you in my premonition. You need me. Just give me another chance,” the male voice pleads.

“Guys wake up!” I shout, rushing to the door. I grip the handle, but it doesn’t budge. “Hadley!” I scream, my fists pounding on the door.

“I was going to keep you as my loyal servant, but it seems your soul would be more useful as fuel for my own.”

A crash sounds, and I take a few steps back, then charge at the door. My shoulder meets the wood, but it doesn’t give, my body screaming in agony as if I’ve run into a cement wall.

My brothers jump to their feet, looking at me startled. I want to explain, but my entire attention is on the damn unbreakable door. Hadley is in there, unconscious, and I have no doubt in my mind that the voice who sounded familiar belongs to her tormentor, a murderer. And a second person, the voice raspy and unrecognizable. I can’t even discern whether that voice is male or female. It just...is. Like the sky is blue and the grass is green.

“She’s in there! With something bad. Help me!” I plead. I charge at the door again, not caring that my bones are cracking, not caring that blood is pouring down my body. All that matters is getting to Hadley.

“Hadley!” Auston screams. “Let us in!”

“No!” the male voice shouts, oblivious to us just outside. “Please, keep me alive. I-I can help you.”

“Stand back!” I shout and summon my scythe. “Explosio!” I yell, pointing the blade at the door. The red magic blasts from the end and embeds into the door, but the door doesn’t fracture. It absorbs my magic.

“What the fuck?” Auston exclaims, looking at the unharmed door.

“Come here, servant, and accept the fate I have decided to give you,” the inhuman voice rasps.

“No!”

More crashing sounds, and I look to my brothers, frantic. Karston keeps trying to float through the wall, but he’s unable to pass through. Some dark magic is keeping him out.

“What do we do?” I yell, horrified that Hadley’s in there without us. Did they hurt her? Kill her? The thought makes my stomach churn, and I know her death—her second death—is something I wouldn’t get over. How could I? I was falling in love with that girl, and the thought of her essence, her soul, no longer being a part of this world is devastating, gut-wrenching. I don’t think I could recover from losing her again. Especially like this.

“Combine our powers, like we did in the tunnels,” Brax suggests, summoning his sword. Weapons drawn, we point our weapons at the door, then allow them to touch. A stream of magic shoots out of the ends, its force so powerful it knocks us over as it crashes into the door, blowing shards of wood everywhere.

I rush inside, anxious to save Hadley from whatever horrors are inside with her, but what I see before me freezes my blood in my veins.

A girl with sandy blonde hair in a white hospital gown is holding Jake up by his neck with one hand, his body slack and her fingers curled around his neck. Her mouth is opened wide, her once bruised skin paled and grayed as a swirling mist leaves Jake’s body and enters hers.

“Ha-Hadley?” I utter, my voice breaking.

With an otherworldly slowness that feels like time itself has stopped, she turns to me. What were once blue eyes, bright and filled with life, are now black, decayed, void of anything but destruction. I only heard rumors of such eyes, such malice emanating back at me. They’re stories that the big, bad Reapers tell the baby Reapers. Bedtime stories. The type that makes you cower under your blankets. They’re whispered conversations between professors as they discuss the souls found across campus. The souls found with cracked faces, scorched eyes, and ashen skin. One name. One monster.

A monster who is currently staring back at me, wearing Hadley’s face.

The Darkness.

A sinister smile creeps across her face, a face I no longer recognize as she rasps, “Hadley isn’t here anymore.”

Acknowledgments

Katie:

Thank you to my family for your unconditional support and love. I wouldn’t be writing this novel without your encouragement. If you hadn’t pushed me to publish a year ago, I wouldn’t be where I am today. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I would also like to thank my co-author Loxley for agreeing to go on this crazy journey with me. Love you, big sis.

Loxley:

Thank you to my husband and kids for always being there for me.

Both of us:

We would like to thank everyone who made this book possible. Our alpha and beta team, thank you ladies for providing feedback and falling in love with our characters. Thank you to Jess and Meghan for editing our manuscript and making it the best it could be. Finally, we would like to thank our readers for supporting us and encouraging us. We hope you love Hadley and her guys as much as we loved writing it.

About the Author

Loxley is from a town in northeast Ohio. She lives with her handsome husband and three daughters. When she’s not writing, she’s playing with her kids or binge watching reality tv. She loves Harry Potter, and anything Irish, oh and chocolate. Can’t forget that.

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About the Author

Katie May is a reverse harem author who lives in Michigan. She loves writing about strong, hilarious heroines and the men who love her. When not writing, you can find her curled up with a good book, playing with her dogs, or catching on the softball team. And being sarcastic. Join her Facebook group to stay up-to-date on all of her upcoming releases and to see exclusive content.

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Also by Loxley Savage

FEATHERS AND FIRE SERIES

Bound for Blood - A Dark PNR RH Romance

books2read.com/boundforblood

Cursed to Crave - A dark PNR RH Romance

books2read.com/cursedtocrave

ENSLAVED BY THE KINGS

Saphyre, co written with Scarlett Snow - A Dark RH Fantasy

https://payhip.com/b/K8Mr

WICKED WAVES SERIES

Twisted Tides, co written with Erin O’Kane - A Fantasy RH Romance

books2read.com/twistedtides

COMING SOON

Their Draxis Queen (The Ravaged Book 1) - A Dark Alien Sci Fi

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The Damning

1. Greed

2. Envy

3. Gluttony

Beyond the Shadows

1. Gangs and Ghosts

2. Guns and Graveyards

3. Untitled (Coming November 2019)

Together We Fall

1. The Darkness We Crave

2. The Light We Seek

3. The Storm We Face

4. The Monsters We Hunt

The Immortal Legacy (With Elena Lawson)

1. Chasing Time (Coming September 2019)

Afterworld Academy (With Loxley Savage)

1. Dearly Departed