The Reaping - By M. Leighton Page 0,115
you never will.”
With that, she threw something over the other side of the mirror so that all I could see was my own reflection, replete with blonde hair, staring back at me.
Dressing quickly, I found Derek in the kitchen, cooking of all things. The smell of bacon and eggs teased my nose just as the toaster popped its payload up.
“Smells good,” I said appreciatively. It didn’t hurt that Derek was the chef either. He tossed a sexy little smile over his shoulder, one that did funny things to my belly, not to mention what seeing him barefoot and bare-chested did to the rest of my organs. But now was not the time to explore those kinds of feelings. We had much of a serious nature to discuss. “So, I just had a visitor,” I said, pausing for dramatic effect. “In my mirror.”
Derek turned completely around, spoon in hand, his expression sober. “Really?”
“Yep. My dear, sweet sister.”
Derek eyed me suspiciously. “What did she want?”
“She tells me that we’re linked somehow through mirrors. I guess things will go on like they have been. Grey out wreaking havoc and me trying to stop her.” Even as the words left my tongue, I was already correcting them in my head. I wasn’t going to try to stop her. I would stop her. I’d stop her from taking souls before they had a second chance. I’d stop her from turning people into bloodthirsty monsters. I’d stop her from ruining even one more life.
“That looks serious,” Derek said, frowning.
“What? Oh,” I said, realizing that I was frowning more than he was if the ache between my eyebrows was any indication. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“Weren’t we going to leave all this alone for just a little while?”
Shaking off the troubling thoughts, I slid my hands down Derek’s chest to his belly then around his trim waist, reveling in the glide of his silky smooth skin beneath my palms.
“Yes, we were. And I can think of many other things I’d rather be focusing my attention on right now,” I said, rising onto my tiptoes and nipping at his lower lip.
********
Later that night, we were watching a DVD when I was suddenly and inexplicably overcome with the urge to call Leah’s parents.
“Can you pause that? I should call the Kirbys, see if they’ve heard from Leah.”
“Alright,” he said, raising his arm to let me up.
I pushed myself off Derek’s chest and rose to my feet, walking casually to the kitchen. I heard the sound of the television change when Derek switched to the local news. As I punched in the Kirbys’ number, a reporter’s words caught my attention. I listened to it with half an ear as the phone rang on the other end.
Official reports claim the cause of death was a wild animal attack, though police are uncertain how the animal gained entrance into the couple’s home. Police are still searching for the couple’s only child, Leah Kirby, a seventeen year old senior at…
Right then, deep down, I just knew that Leah had killed her parents. She was not just lost to the police now, she was lost to me, too. Whether or not a soul could ever recover from such horrific deeds I didn’t know, but for Leah I was pretty sure there was no coming back. Not for her. It would be too hard, too much of a fight. And Leah wasn’t strong, she wasn’t a fighter. She was just gone—long gone.
Another thing I was certain of was that my role in her life was over. She was playing for the other team now and we were all playing for keeps. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down around her again.
As I stood there in the kitchen, phone in hand, considering the implications of what I’d heard, I was startled when I saw an image of Derek appear in the middle of the floor. His hair was a little shorter, but his handsome face was unmistakable, even with eyes the same dark, hollow black as Grey’s. He hovered like a transparent, malevolent spirit over a young girl who was sleeping peacefully beneath a frilly, pink canopy.
I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp when I saw his face and body transform into some kind of creature, some demonic looking thing. My mind struggled to grasp what was going on when I saw Leah enter the picture. She walked to the side of the girl’s bed and leaned over her, trailing her fingers down the girl’s neck. It was then that I knew what was going to happen.
The urge to look away was nearly as powerful as my fixation on the couple as they descended on the young girl. At first they seemed to be almost playing with her, nipping at her with their teeth, tearing at her skin with their claws. She screamed and fought, to no avail.
When her struggles had lessened and puddles of her blood were shed, however, playtime was over. That’s when they began to cut deep into her flesh, tearing out large chunks. They chewed and ravaged her, licking up trickles of blood as it spilled.
My heart broke as I stood helplessly by and watched them do unspeakable things to her, things she had no hope of surviving.
When the image disappeared and I was once more alone in my kitchen, something inside me reminded me that there was always hope. I just had to find her first.