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I’VE ALWAYS SEEN THE REAPERS

Even as a toddler—with little understanding of spirits, death, or the horrors that lie in the shadows—I’d been aware of thee of the un to call the had always died within a day or so

In e years, I learned who and what they really were They called themselves reapers, and they were collectors of souls They took the essence—the spirit—of the dying and escorted them on to the next part of their journey, be that heaven or hell

The reapers weren’t flesh-and-blood beings, although they could attain that forht and shadows—and an energy so fierce, their mere presence burned across my skin like flame

Which is how I sensed the one now followingthrough the night, war the embers of fear I sed heavily and tried to stay calhter of one of Melbourne’s most powerful psychics had its benefits—and one of those was a knowledge of my own death It would come many years from now, in a stupid car accident

Of course, it was totally possible that I’d gotten the ti My visions weren’t always as accurate as my mother’s, so maybe the death I’d seen in my future was a whole lot closer than I’d presumed

And it was also a fact that not all deaths actually happened when they were supposed to That’s why there were ghosts—they were the souls uncollected by reapers, either because their deaths had come before their allotted tiuidance Either way, the end result was the same The souls were left stranded between this world and the next

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket and walked a little faster There was no outrunning the reapers—I knew that—but I still couldn’t help the instinctive urge to try

Around leaht’s rain, and the air was fresh and s from the nearby wolf clubs overran what little traffic noise there was, and laughter rode the breeze—a happy sound that did little to chase the chill from my flesh

It was a chill caused not by an icytide of fear

Why was the reaper following me?

As I crossed over to Pelhaaze flicked to the nearby shop s, searching again for the shadow of death

Reapers ca the form most likely to be accepted by those they’d come to collect I’m not sure what it said about me thatsome sort of sword strapped across his back

A reaper with a weapon? Now, that was so I’d never cohtly

I turned onto Or lot my restaurant shared with several other nearby businesses There was no sound of steps behind me, no scent of another, yet the reaper’s presence burned all around me—a heat I could feel on my skin and within my mind

So psychic like my mom really sucked