Reaper Uninvited (Deadside Reapers #2) - Debbie Cassidy Page 0,29

door to Lumiers. A strange tingle raced over my skin as I stepped over the threshold, and then the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon buns hit me. My mouth pooled with saliva. God, how long had it been since I’d eaten a cinnamon bun? Kiara had made me a cake for my birthday, but Mal’s acting up meant we hadn’t gotten to eat it.

He owed me cake. More ammunition against him.

I scanned the cheery interior. A counter stretched along the wall to my left dotted with cake stands laden with baked treats. There was a cash register, old-school-style with the typewriter buttons, and a modern coffee machine took up the back wall. Freestanding lamps were placed in the corners of the room, and cushy sofas and small round side tables were arranged on the floor. Books lined the wall to the right, rising up to the first floor where a balcony wrapped around the structure. I caught a peek of more sofas. Oh, and there was the staircase leading up to the first floor. Most of the sofas were taken up by patrons, and none of them were human.

I didn’t know how I could tell because they mostly looked human, but on closer inspection, there was something off about each one, and then I noticed the pointed tips on ears, the tiny bud of horns poking out from a hairline, and in one case, silver scales running across the backs of his hands.

These were outliers. This place wasn’t for humans. Uri’s earlier comment made sense now.

A newspaper lay open on a nearby table, headline screaming “Westside Killer Strikes Again.” A couple of months ago, this news would have shocked me because Necro was meant to be safe. Crime was supposed to be low, but now that I’d torn back the veil and planted my feet firmly on the other side, the fact this kind of shit hadn’t been reported more often was a surprise. I picked up the paper and scanned the article. Five murders. Bodies drained of blood. Vampire …What? They’d used the word vampire? What newspaper was this? I unfolded it. The Outlier Times. A paper for us, not for humans.

“They don’t realize the truth,” a female voice said matter-of-factly.

I blinked in surprise at the woman behind the counter. Where the heck had she come from? And why did non-humans keep doing this to me—just appearing out of thin air? Also, why was she pink? Like all-over-body pink. Even her eyes were pink with azure rings around the irises.

She cocked a brow and canted her head slightly. “Go on, take a good look, sweets. Get it out of your system. Yes, it’s all pink—tits, ass, and muff.”

I almost choked on my own saliva. “Wow. TMI.”

“Gawper.” But a smile tugged at her mouth, and then she looked down at the paper in my hand. “Humans don’t have a clue because we clean up their mess. But it’s real, and it’s happening, and not just to them.”

“Vampires?”

“Mouths and Dread and other shit that goes bump in the night. And you poor reapers just don’t have the resources to cope with the numbers.”

She knew I was a reaper?

“What can I get you, Dominus?” she said with a sly smile.

“How do you know who I am?”

“I keep tabs on things.” She narrowed her eyes and studied me for a heartbeat. “Mocha, extra sprinkles, and a cinnamon bun.”

I blinked at her in surprise. “Is that your superpower? Knowing what people want to eat and drink?”

“One of many.” She winked. “Take a seat, I’ll bring it over.”

“I’m not sure I have time. I’m meeting—”

“Sariah and the gang. Yes, I’m aware. They called ahead and said to expect you.” She gave me a cheeky grin exposing tiny white teeth and pink gums.

So that’s how she knew who I was. “In that case, I’ll have a small mocha.”

“With extra sprinkles?” she asked.

Only a fool turned down extra sprinkles. “Sure.”

I pulled up a stool at the counter, and she placed the cinnamon bun and the mocha in front of me.

“Well, eat up. You’re going to need the energy against those bloodsuckers.” Her mouth turned down. “Streets aren’t safe for anyone any longer. Regency Pack’s doing what it can to keep the Westside safe, but they just don’t have the numbers against the fucking fang scourge. They’re like rats. Dirty bloodsucking rats with fancy clothes.”

Regency Pack … Why did that ring a bell? Husky eyes in an Adonis face. Grayson Loch, the alpha of the

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