I led him to the living room where mom was currently passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of wine clutched in her hand. The Unconsecrated within her immediately awakened when we entered the room, recognizing that Gerald was here, and his dark spirit was gone. And for the first time, my mother’s spirit saw that her son was also possessed. Never before had my Dark One revealed itself to hers, and the part of me that lived beyond those spirits recognized this was not a good sign.

Mom let out a bloodcurdling scream and lunged towards me and my father. We quickly stepped back as she flailed wildly before dad managed to interrupt her with a spell.

“Mom,” I said gently, trying to calm her down. “Please listen to us.”

But she would not be consoled. She fought against dad’s magic with a ferocity that surprised us all. And even more to my surprise, my own Dark One grew stronger within, urging me to kill them both.

At the same time, I could sense the darkness emanating from my mother, threatening to overtake all of us if we weren’t careful. And dad wasn’t immune – whatever spell he had used on himself earlier was no match for her powerful force.

I was almost relieved when the lingering alcohol in my mother’s system caused her to lose her balance and she stumbled backwards, hitting her head on the brick fireplace. She let out a groan before slumping to the ground, unconscious, blood flowing from her forehead.

I quickly rushed over to check on her, thankful to find she was still breathing, and that the Unconsecrated within her had gone quiet. But my relief was short-lived as my own Dark One took control once again.

Anger built as my father hovered over me, and I flinched when he reached out his hand. Surprising me with his strength, he gripped my shoulder, and I slumped as calming energy washed over me. With great effort, I pushed back against the darkness and regained control.

I blinked, stunned and frightened. Never before had I been so successful at pushing against the spirit possessing me. Was it because I’d hardly ever tried, or was it something else? Had he grown that powerful, or had I become that weak?

And was I happy or sad about that?

“We have to get her to the bedroom,” Dad said, snapping me out of my trance.

Together, we picked up my mother’s limp body and carried her upstairs. She stirred slightly as we laid her on the bed, and I ached with pity for the woman who had once been such a strong and powerful witch.

“I’m sorry, son,” my father said, looking at her with tears in his eyes. “I never wanted anything but the best for both of you.”

I couldn’t speak – the emotions were overwhelming: anger, resentment, relief ... love.

“You should be,” I finally managed to say before turning away from him.

A twinge of guilt panged as I caught a glimpse of the hurt of his face in the bedroom mirror. Then his expression turned grim as he raised his hand towards me. Before I could react, a spell hit me square in the back.

“I’m sorry” was the last thing I heard him say.

CHAPTER 4

SIERRA

Soft whispers drifted through my dreams, lulling me into a sense of serenity even as part of my brain noticed light growing beyond my closed eyelids. I pulled the quilt around my head, away from the growing brightness that threatened to force me awake.

As more sounds and light penetrated my consciousness, I realized those whispers weren’t dreams.

Mazarin and the former reapers were in my room! I sat quickly, blinking in sleepy confusion as they cried out as one, “Congratulations!”

Huh?

“It’s your special day!”

“What? It’s not my birthday … is it?” Panic flashed as I wondered how long I’d really been down there.

Mazarin laughed softly. “Not yet. But … I suppose, in a sense, we could say it is.”

Clear as mud, like always.

She smirked, no doubt reading my thoughts. Before I could do more than scowl at her, Leticia stepped out from behind some of the others, holding a box tied with red ribbon.

“Every Reaper needs a scythe,” she said, smiling as she handed me the gift.

Still confused, I took it from her. The container didn’t look big enough to hold a scythe.

She winked. “And we noticed you were partial to this one.”

I shook my head, more befuddled by the second. When had I ever seen a scythe outside of illustrations, much less been partial to one?

“Well, go on. Open it,” Maz insisted as I continued to stare.

They all laughed when I opened the box and gasped.

“June! My precious! How did you get here?” I gently stroked the cleaver as I pulled it out of the wrapping. Confused, I looked back at the Reapers.

“But ... this isn’t a scythe.”

“The actual blade doesn’t matter,” Mazarin explained. “Only that it speaks to you.”

My lips parted as I gazed at the cleaver with wonder. I had been drawn to it since I’d first arrived at Ravenswood Academy. Artemis had made fun of me, tried to hide it from me several times out of fear I might cut myself, or lose my temper and use it on someone else. But still I kept going back to my beloved June The Cleaver. Was this why?

I glanced up again and caught the smiles and encouraging nods of the others. Chills crossed my arms, but in a good way.

Grinning, I jerked on my boots. “Let’s get to practicing!”

After an untold number of training sessions, I could feel the difference. My power grew every hour in the practice arena. The teaching Mazarin and her helpers provided me with, gave me the knowledge to battle the phantoms; the ancient magic they loaned to me became a weapon in my hands. Not to mention my old pal, June. Each triumph, each soul that I rescued—or destroyed—solidified my status as a worthy Reaper trainee.

I’d just finished successfully trapping a group of wraiths in a ghostly web then used June to send them to their final destinations. Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I could almost believe I had unlocked the secrets of raising, and routing, the dead. Yet even as my skills grew, so did my doubts.

And the dread sinking into my stomach like a gravestone.

Was I really ready for the battles ahead? Could I bear what it might take to be a Reaper?

As if summoned by my thoughts, Mazarin’s flickering form appeared beside me, radiating an ancient authority that commanded respect. Though weakened by the dark forces she had battled, her presence was still formidable.

“Come, Sierra. You are strong, but also need reminders of what is at stake.” She motioned for me to follow her through a spectral portal, leaving the training arena behind.

We came into an ethereal garden painted in shades of gray and I drew in a quick breath. Leticia had shown me a painting of this place! It was inhabited by the most shattered spirits of past Reapers. Their barely visible forms were distinct yet translucent, forever trapped in this one location, and apart from the others I’d met. I shivered as we passed them, their silent presence both unsettling and poignant. These were the ones who had failed and paid the ultimate price.

Mazarin gestured to a spirit. “Behold Ava, who fell to pride.”

Ava’s voice echoed from beyond. “I thought my powers made me invincible. I was wrong.”

Another spoke. “Arrogance blinded me. Do not repeat my mistakes.”