“So he trained you to kill monsters?”

  “He trained me to kill.”

  “Did he train you to kill the one in the woods?”

  “We never made it that far.”

  “Why was training so important to you?”

  “I just wanted to belong. To be strong enough to write my own ending.”

  “Did you?”

  “You tell me.”

  Icy slush crunches under my boots as I walk along the sidewalk after school. Maggie wanders beside me, exploring the world around her, recalling old memories from her childhood. She points out the houses where old friends used to live, calling each out by name. To her, anyone willing to say hi is a friend. I can’t help but wonder if they felt the same about her though. In my experience, no one ever does anything for you for free. I doubt Maggie would have chosen me as a friend, let alone a roommate, if she wasn’t forced to.

  “You’re an idiot,” Maggie blurts out. “I may not have chosen you, but I did choose to stay.”

  I flinch, reminded that she can read my thoughts. “Sorry, I guess I’m a bit of a cynic sometimes.”

  “Not every relationship is a transaction, you know.” She stands in front of me. “You’re my friend. I just tied my soul to you. Doesn’t that prove something in that sad little head of yours?”

  “I—” I pause for a moment. “Do you think we’d have been friends if you were alive? Would you have liked me?”

  “Mh,” She shrugs. “Probably not.”

  I feel my stomach drop slightly.

  “We don’t choose our friends, Autumn,” she continues. Her tone is more serious now. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about you or if it’s genuine or not.” She shoves my shoulder hard. “Sometimes people just need each other. And you need me.”

  I don’t find the words to argue with her as she walks off. I continue down the sidewalk until a figure catches my attention. An old man slowly jogs toward me with his dog leading him. The dog’s untrimmed brown and gray fur bounces with every step, and its tongue swings merrily. But as I recognize the man, my heart sinks.

  Every day at precisely eight in the morning and five in the afternoon, Mr. Tully takes his dog, Milo, for a walk around the block. I often catch them on my walk to and from school. Milo is well known in Greenfield as a friendly old dog on a mission. Everyone he meets is just another friend. He’s often begging for head scratches and treats. But he doesn’t know that Mr. Tully passed away four years ago. Mr. Tully’s daily walks created an echo. Now, everyday, Milo follows a shadow around town.

  “Doggy!” Maggie shouts.

  Milo bolts toward Maggie at a dead sprint. When he reaches us, he sits with his tongue hanging.

  “Dassa’ good boy!” She leans down and attempts to pet him, but her hands pass through. It doesn’t stop her from pretending though, and Milo doesn’t seem to mind. It’s always been clear that our pets can see the dead. Funny, I have more in common with a dog than anyone else in this town.

  I look back at Mr. Tully’s echo, still slowly jogging toward us. Then I remember what Dr. Ward told me. “Never leave home without a reaping.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Maggie says.

  “We’re already almost to Ward’s,” I reply. “I can’t train without a reaping. He always says I get too attached to echoes, and I’m definitely attached to this one.”

  “But what about him?” She gestures to Milo sweetly.

  “He’s getting old. It’s time for him to let go. Mr. Tully is just an echo.”

  “Milo doesn’t know that.”

  “He could get hurt following an old echo around town. Besides, I’m sure Mrs. Tully wouldn’t mind the extra company.”

  Maggie sighs. “Fine. It’s time to say goodbye, buddy.”

  Milo attempts to lick Maggie’s face, but passes through her with every lick.

  As Mr. Tully gets closer, I let darkness fill my mind and relax my muscles. As my eyes turn black, silver threads extend from his body. I reach out and grab one of them. A sudden calmness settles my emotions. All of my problems feel so small. But time feels so short. So every day, a walk with a friend—a dog even, experiencing the world that sprouts around us, slows time down a bit.

  I look down at Milo, who stares back up at me with his head slightly tilted. I look away to prevent my tears. Maybe Ward is right. I do get too attached. I close my eyes and let the echo in. Warmth wraps around me like a hug. When I open my eyes, Mr. Tully is gone, and the warmth quickly fades.

  Slowly, I kneel down beside Milo, afraid of what he must think of me. Will he bark at me, bite me, whimper? But after a moment, he simply drops his tongue and starts panting again. Suddenly, he leaps up and places his paws on my shoulders and licks my face.

  “Well he moved on quickly,” Maggie giggles.

  I stand and wipe my face off.

  “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  I release an unsteady breath outside the front door of the Ward Mansion. I’m ready for whatever he can throw at me. I need this. I have to know if these powers really are a curse, or a path to something greater. I look to Maggie, who smiles gently at me. I’m going to make Dad proud, somehow.

  “Can you hide in the sasquatch?” I ask. “I don’t want to surprise Ward with you just yet.”

  Maggie nods and fades into a cloud of glitter, which flows into the doll. I stuff it into my backpack with its head poking out, so she can see. I release one quick sigh, then push the door open.

  The cool winter air pulls into the large foyer, tossing my hair. A shiver tickles down my arms. I spot Liam sitting on the main staircase. The large windows above me cast a dramatic spotlight over him. His long blonde hair droops over his face as he stares at a large book in his lap. He holds a pencil in his hand, unmoving. Frozen like the snow outside.

  “Liam?” I ask.

  He pops his head up. “Autumn.”

  I notice the room closest to Liam is closed. A black ribbon is tied around the door knob and a flower pot of white roses sits on the table beside it. He must be here to mourn. With my hands in my pockets, I wander up to him.

  “What are you drawing?” I ask.

  He sighs. “Nothing yet. This was my Pawpaw’s.” He holds a large spiral-bound sketchbook. His pencil hovers over a blank page. “He inspired me to start drawing. I thought, maybe, if I drew something nice in his notebook I’d feel better. But I’ve just been staring at this blank page. I don’t know where to start. I’ll just ruin it.”

  Quietly, I sit down beside him on the stairs. My arm pushes against his, but he doesn’t look at me. I think for a moment, then smirk.

  “Can I see that?” I gesture to the pencil.

  He looks at me suspiciously, then hands it to me. I tap the eraser against my cheek and pretend to think for a moment. Then, I take the pencil and scratch a line across the center of the page, ruining its perfect emptiness. He gasps and looks at me.

  “Start there,” I say, holding the pencil out toward him.

  After a moment, the shock in his eyes settles and he takes it back hesitantly. He places the pencil over my mark and begins to draw. I watch him with a proud smile as he turns my hideous line into a beautiful rose stretching over the page. Tears drop from his face and splash onto the page.

  “Thank you.” His words shake like a hiccup.

  I wrap my arm under his and offer a gentle smile. He looks up at me with tears dripping down his cheeks. Silence falls over us as his glistening eyes meet mine. I never realized how blue they are, like a circular waterfall surrounding the deep black of his pupils. Warmth fills my chest as he leans closer.

  Suddenly, the door with the black ribbon clicks and swings open. Dr. Ward spots us on the stairs as he exits the room. Quickly, I release Liam and stand up. Dr. Ward pauses as he takes in the scene. I look past him into the room, but he shuts the door before I get a good look at anything.

  “So sorry. We’re still cleaning up,” he says with a calm smile. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.” Ward steps in front of us, towering over us both.

  “Y—yeah,” I reply. “We’re friends at school.” I look down at Liam, who has shut his sketchbook. Then, he stands beside me and straightens out his pants.

  “I’m headed out actually,” he says.

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  “You are welcome to stay as long as you’d like, Mr. Baker,” Ward replies.

  “It’s okay. I’ve gotta get home.” He turns to me and awkwardly wraps his arms around me. “Thanks, Autumn.” I can’t think fast enough to hug him back. Before I can, he releases me and walks away.

  I watch him leave. As he shuts the front door, Ward’s face comes into focus. His eyebrow is raised with disappointment.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Seems like you’re getting attached. Perhaps we postpone your training until you’re ready to take this seriously.” He turns away from me and begins down the hallway.

  I quickly chase after him. “No, I’m ready.”

  He doesn’t slow down for me as we walk down the hall toward the back garden. We pass Granny’s room. I peek in to say hi, but she’s focused on the TV. The old black and white Dracula movie has her attention. Once more, Ward doesn’t slow down for me. I mentally promise to come say hi after, then catch up to him.

  “Did you come prepared?” He asks.

  “I reaped, if that’s what you mean.” I search my mind for Mr. Tully’s echo. His calmness settles over me, a sign that he’s still there.

  “Good. We can skip the basics then.” He offers a smirk.

  “I’m ready.”

  “No,” he replies. “But you will be.”

  Thicket Grove consumes light and hope like a maze with no end. Yet, deeper and deeper we go. Dr. Ward barely says a word to me as we walk. I stay close to him, keeping my head on a swivel. As our long shadows leap from tree to tree, they play tricks with my eyes. Shadows move too soon or too quickly. Sometimes an extra shadow stands where it shouldn’t.

  Yet deeper and deeper we go.

  We pass the old jailhouse. It sits in the marsh, crooked and empty. My mind shudders as I imagine the corpses still rotting inside it. Ravens sit in dead silence in the branches overhead, a hungry audience waiting in anticipation. One releases a mocking giggle, sending a jolt through my bones. Invisible threads pull at my stomach the further we walk, begging me to turn around. A fog slowly descends from the sky like a blanket of emptiness. Nothing looks familiar. We must be walking North. Maybe North East. Actually, that last turn may have set us South East.

  And deeper and deeper we go.

  A small white bunny bounds between the bushes. I smile softly. At least not everything out here wants to eat me. When the bunny turns its head, bright red blood drips from the gash on its face. A fresh wound. But Ward doesn’t stop. I look up at the crows overhead and I want to vomit. The bunny leaps away and disappears into the thick fog. Soon, the threads tugging at my stomach feel more like leeches sucking the energy from my soul. Just as I begin to pray we go no further, Ward stops.

  “Our power is born of death.” His deep voice vibrates in my chest. “But we are not gods. Reapers are legends who exist in the memories of the few, but in the nightmares of many. Shadow is your ally. The power you wield in that hilt is limited by the souls you consume and the emotions that compose them. Those souls burn out quickly. We are not the old monster hunters of storybooks. We are a silent death. A blade in the dark.”

  He steps forward, but as I begin to follow he places his hand on my shoulder.

  “Wait here.”

  My heart slowly thumps against my ribcage as I watch him walk further and further away until only his faded silhouette is visible in the fog.

  “Reach me.” His voice booms.

  “What, you want to play tag?” I mock.

  “Sure.” I can practically hear his smug grin. “Tag me, and we will learn what kind of reaper you are.”

  “I thought I was tellúrii, like my dad.”

  Admittedly, I’ve avoided thinking about the kind of reaper I am. The power to weave the energy of past lives into magic is already a lot to process. But I know the truth is a Pandora’s box of darker magic. Reaping echoes gets easier for me every time. Do lunárri feel the same when they consume a lost soul like Maggie? Could I ever do that? And what horrors would lead the solárii to extinction?

  “Is that all you are, Autumn?” Ward replies. “Your father’s daughter? Can’t you reach higher?” He takes another step back and disappears into the fog completely.

  “He must have been a theater kid,” Maggie whispers. “I mean, the drama.”

  “How is this supposed to help me fight monsters?” I groan.

  “Yeah. Playing tag with a creepy man alone in the woods? What could go wrong?”

  I release a long sigh, then stare into the fog. Fuck it. I charge into the fog as fast as I can. The fog envelops my vision in white. Dr. Ward’s silhouette appears exactly where I saw him last. He doesn’t run from me. But a bright silver glow bursts in front of him. He wants a fight? Let’s fight. I grab the hilt from my hip and ignite it. Silver dust explodes into a glowing blade.

  Dr. Ward’s light suddenly grows larger and closer. It’s an arrow. Before I can dodge it, the arrow pummels into my thigh. My leg immediately loses all sensation and I collapse onto the wet ground. I try to stand, but the dead leg ignores every command. The edge of numbness is marked by a ring of crawling pain around my thigh like a parade of ants marching under my skin.

  “If I could sense your approach, so could a monster.” Dr. Ward’s voice echoes around me, but I can’t find him in the dense fog. I slam my sword against the glowing arrow. The arrow bursts into iridescent mist and disintegrates, but my leg is still numb.

  “Now, there are consequences,” Dr. Ward continues. “Defend yourself.”

  “Make a shield, Autumn!” Maggie shouts into my skull.

  I don’t know how to make a shield. I don’t know how to do anything. I sit up and hold my hand out and imagine a glowing shield surrounding me. Nothing appears. Suddenly, a light flies into the air and something snaps overhead. I look up to see a large shadow falling toward me. I barely have enough time to roll out of the way before a heavy bag filled with animal fat slams onto the ground beside me. The stench of the fat and alcohol invades my senses. Then I hear another snap.

  Another fat filled burlap bag slams into my back. My body whips forward, smacking my face into the mud. The air in my lungs rockets from my body. I gasp for oxygen, heaving, begging for air to return. Panic explodes through my body as I hear Dr. Ward’s footsteps approaching. I hold up my sword to defend myself. His glowing blade cracks against mine. I roll forward to swing for his legs, but his sword catches mine once more. My blade flickers and pops, then disappears. The energy sputters out with a whimper. He raises his sword high, and I wince.

  “Stop!” I hear Maggie shout. I look up and see her appear before him. Her face is mere inches from his. I feel her rage and fear burn through me.

  Ward halts and stares at Maggie. Then, he looks down at me.

  “You bound a soul,” he says. His smile reveals a hint of admiration. “It took me three months to trap and bind my first spirit. I’m impressed.”

  “She’s my—friend,” I say as air finally returns to my lungs.

  Ward’s admiration fades to disappointment. “Careful Autumn. This friendship doesn’t have a happy ending.”

  “Yeah well,” I struggle to stand as the feeling slowly returns to my leg. “Story of my life.”

  Dr. Ward offers to help me stand, but I push his arm away. I don’t want his help, or anyone else’s.

  “You were going to kill me,” I say.

  “No. But you needed to believe I would. Every encounter you have with the living or the dead could be your last. You are not a superhero. You wield death, but you are not its master.”

  “I get it,” I say.

  “Do you?” He asks sternly.

  “Shadow is my ally,” I reply. “Our powers are deadly, but limited.”

  “Good.”

  “I want to try again.”

  “Very good.” He smiles.

  I want to wipe that smug grin off his face.

  On my second attempt, I try a slower approach. I hide in the tall grass and tip-toe as close to him as I can. I barely make it ten feet before he fires another arrow at me. It lands in the mud between my feet.

  “Again!” He shouts.

  So again, I try. Again, I fail. This pattern continues the next day, then the next, and the next. Every day I reap another echo. Each afternoon, he lectures me on monsters, history, and tactics. Then, we enter the woods and train.

  Reaper history goes back far and much of it is hidden in lore. “When creatures beyond the veil threaten the living, call upon a reaper.” Old journals, once interpreted as fiction, become windows into the past. There were secret societies, fraternities, and cults until The Order reigned. But there were competing ideologies. Some sought to help the living, while others wanted to defeat death. The Order eventually split and became a myth.

  Our powers are not simply wielding magic like a battery. We have to connect with our reaping and weave its emotions to fit our will. Most do so through fear, commanding the reaping through strength. According to Dr. Ward, connecting with a reaping is more powerful than commanding it, but it takes longer and is psychologically hazardous.

  On day four, I learn to make a shield. After days of failing to intimidate my reapings, I try to understand them. I connect to each echo to find a reason they would want to protect me. Some would protect me to preserve life, others would create a shield out of spite or anger. I tap into those emotions then weave them into my own, and it works. In fact, it’s a pretty good shield. It arcs over me like a bubble of silver glitter, then fades away in an instant. I use it to block a few falling bags and even a couple of Ward’s attacks, though my reaping is left depleted soon after.

  Weeks pass as we train in the cold. The semester is almost over, and all I can think about is outsmarting Dr. Ward. My fighting skills have improved. I’m smaller and faster than him. But every time I feel like I have the upper hand, he shatters my blade. Its light flickers away and he holds his blade at my neck with a disappointed scowl. My only hope is to reach him before he notices me. But how am I supposed to sneak up on someone who knows I’m coming? He always spots me before I can get close to him.

  I take one day off to investigate a haunt with Hannah and JJ. We break into the old Greenfield Theatre at night. Hannah captures a recording of what sounds like a woman singing, but it’s merely an echo. I reap it and we head home. Then, it’s back to training again.

  “Hide your approach,” Dr. Ward says as we stand in the cold foggy woods. “Conserve your power. Use your surroundings. Then immobilize, and finish decisively.”

  It’s the same lecture he’s given me for days.

  “Death is quick and quiet,” I respond, reciting his lesson. “It comes in the dark, and strikes without mercy.”

  Tonight, I replay every attempt in my head. Even when I’m silent, he always predicts my attack. It reminds me of playing hide and seek with Dad. He’d always find me, unless I cheated and jumpscared him first. Maggie would help sometimes, shrouding a corner in darkness and giving Dad goosebumps. Sure, I’d still lose, but scaring him felt just as good as winning.

  “Maggie,” I whisper. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “Way ahead of you,” she giggles.

  Maggie fades into the quiet darkness, and I watch as a second shadow grows from beneath me. A clone of my long silhouette extends into the fog. I step left behind the cover of a tall twisted tree. My new shadow steps right. Slowly, I step from tree to tree, using their long twisted shadows to guide me. Suddenly, a twig snaps and I freeze.

  “You’re sloppy tonight, Autumn,” Dr. Ward says as his hilt ignites into a glowing silver bow.

  I take another step forward, but the grass crunches under heavy footsteps. Ward knocks a glowing arrow and releases it. The arrow screams through the air and slams into a tree.

  “Again, Autumn!” He shouts.

  But I’m not behind a tree. I’m behind him.

  Maggie’s giggle echoes through the woods as I leap forward and ignite my hilt. Ward realizes his mistake and spins to backhand me. The radiating energy of his hilt slams into my blade, shattering it immediately. But I let it, and duck under his elbow. I maintain my momentum and hammer my disabled golden hilt into his groin. He gags and stumbles forward, but responds with another swing. I hold up my other arm to summon a shield. Silver light arcs over me as his sword crashes into it. But he suddenly grabs my wrist with his other arm and twists it. His impossibly large hand wraps around my arm like a toothpick and lifts me into the air.

  I whimper and wail as my muscles stretch. He slices his blade through my arm, sending screaming pain through it. But the pain quickly fades into utter numbness, as if he’s ripped my arm off. Then, he holds the blade to my neck.

  “Good try,” he says exhaustedly. “But you cheated.” He looks at Maggie behind me.

  “Death strikes without mercy,” I say and look down at my other hand.

  Dr. Ward follows my gaze to spot my hilt pointed at his heart. If activated, my blade would stop his heart for at least a minute before his nerves regained function. He drops me immediately and steps back. I crumble to my knees and embrace my limp arm.

  “Tag,” I say. “You’re it.”

  After a moment of uneasy silence, he finally deactivates his blade. Then, he laughs. A tired, but genuine laugh.

  “What?” I ask. “I won your stupid game.”

  His laugh subsides into a satisfied sigh. Then he steps toward me. I grip my hilt anxiously. But he kneels down and tosses my limp arm over his shoulder, then lifts me to my feet.

  “You won,” he says.

  “So when do I learn what kind of reaper I am?” I ask. My tone is both anxious and annoyed.

  “Tomorrow.”