Philomena and the Seven Deaths by Kendra Moreno

Author:Kendra Moreno
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kendra Moreno

50

ATHAN

“Are you done playing dress up and derby racing?” I snarl the moment we return to Mena’s house. “This is ridiculous! I told you to stay home and you insisted.”

“I realize my mistake, but you have no need to shout,” Mena replies, exhaustion in her shoulders as she follows us inside.

The carriage ride had been a long tense one, the time spent looking anywhere but at each other. We’d been foolish to involve the bruja, but there’d been no other option. We did what we had to do.

“I have every reason to shout,” I growl. “We don’t know what that curse was for. It could have been a tracking spell or something worse. Why must you—”

“Enough,” Mena snarls. “You’ve made your thoughts achingly clear. I’ve heard enough now.”

“Then perhaps you’ll have learned to stay in this house where you’re safe.”

Anger flickers across her face, fury the likes I’ve not seen from her. “I will not hide in my home like a mouse!” she shouts back.

“You did before!” I spit. “You hid in your house for a week the first time like a damaged, broken little girl!”

“Shut up!”

“You’re so hellbent on being normal that you’re going to end up ruining everything, you spoiled brat! You’re not worthy of the powers you carry—”

“Fuck you!” she spits, shocking me into silence.

None of us had heard Mrs. Kingsley come in, but we all hear the crash of the tray she’d been carrying as it shatters against the tile. Her eyes are wide as they focus on Mena.

“Mena!” She cries, chastising her for the curse.

Jekyll flushes at the word and Otto mostly looks surprised. Only Hu seems unmoved as always.

“Now look what you did,” Otto grunts. “You’ve reduced a lady to swearing with your idiocy and insults.”

“I don’t care,” I growl and take a step away from Mena. “This is getting ridiculous and I have a job to do.”

I don’t warn them. I don’t ask for permission. I simply disappear, reaching for the call of yet another death, letting it draw me to it like a moth to a flame, until I’m standing before an older woman staring down at her body forlornly. When she sees me, she blinks.

“No one even came to check on me,” she croaks. “It’s been hours since I sent the telegram.”

I hold out my hand for her. “Come. This world is cruel and terrible. You do not want to stay here.”

“But what if they never find me? What if they never loved me?”

My chest squeezes. “It matters not. You lived your best. Let your soul be free from worries and stress, and I’ll lead your soul to freedom.”

“Freedom?” she asks, her eyes brightening. “That does sound nice.”

She looks down at her body one more time, sadness in her eyes, before she reaches out and takes my hand. We drop, one reaper and one soul that didn’t deserve the neglect she suffered.

The Underworld awaits us all.

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