“I feel like I’m going to puke.”
A concerned look crosses the professor’s handsome face. “Here, have a seat.” He takes his scythe from me as he leads me to a leather couch. Some kind of energy seems to be emanating from him, creating a hum in the air that’s oddly soothing. I sink down into the couch, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. A moment later, the world stops spinning and I open my eyes. I’m in what looks like an office. The floor is stone and the walls are covered in dark wooden paneling. There’s a fireplace across from me, and a large desk to the side. Everything about this room is grandiose and has an almost regal feel to it. The shelves behind the desk are full of books, and most of the titles don’t appear to be in English.
A chill runs through me, and I bring my arms in, hugging myself.
“Tea?” the professor asks, crossing over to a sideboard where a tea set and a platter of cookies has already been laid out. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just pours me a cup, then places a few cookies in the saucer before bringing it to me. “Have some of this. It should help you feel better.”
Eating is the last thing I want to do when I feel like throwing up, but maybe the tea will help soothe my stomach. The cup is halfway to my lips when a thought occurs to me, and I set it down on the coffee table in front of me with shaking hands.
The professor arches a brow as he sits in the armchair adjacent to me. “Something wrong?”
“Yes, something is wrong!” My voice is higher than it should be, and I clench my fists, trying to get myself under control. “Why am I feeling nauseous, and why are you trying to feed me food and drink? I’m dead, aren’t I? I left my body back on Earth! Why would I still need to eat and drink?” I narrow my gaze suspiciously at him. “Is this some kind of prank you’re playing on me?” What if I’d hallucinated the demon fighting? Or maybe this was just some sort of crazy dream? Maybe someone had held up the store at gunpoint, and I’d been shot, and was lying in a hospital bed right now, an IV in my arm—
“You are no longer in the world of the living,” the professor says gently, “but you are not quite dead, either. Reapers are a classification of spirits all on our own, able to interact with both the living and the dead. Now please, drink that tea. You look as if you are about to faint dead away.”
I glare at him, noticing that he didn’t really answer my question, but I feel so awful that I take a sip anyway. To my surprise, warmth floods and curls into my stomach, banishing the nausea. Energy shoots through me, bringing back my appetite in an instant, and I wolf down one of the cookies before I even realize what I’m doing.
“Excellent.” The professor sounds pleased. “Go on, finish up the rest. You’ll need the strength for your hearing.”
“Hearing?” I nearly drop the saucer in my hand. “What hearing?” Questions whirl through my mind, and I set the saucer down on the table with a sharp snap. “You need to explain what the hell is going on here instead of acting like I should know everything already. Who even are you?”
The professor sighs, pushing his glasses up his Roman nose. A lock of salt-and-pepper hair falls across his forehead, and suddenly I’m struck by how good-looking he is. Sharp gray eyes, strong, defined features, and I haven’t forgotten the striking figure he’d cut as he’d darted around those demons effortlessly, cloak flapping behind him in the wind.
Hot for teacher? Seriously, Addy, get a grip!
“My name is Felix Dalmatius, and I teach Demonology here at Reaper Academy,” he tells me. Even his voice is sexy—a smooth, deep baritone that spills from full, sensuous lips. “I was sent by the headmistress to collect you after Mr. Bellator reported his run-in with you. Naturally, we can’t allow reapers to run around on Earth unchecked. The council is deliberating over your fate as we speak. If all goes well, you will be enrolling here at Reaper Academy.”
“If all goes well?” I grip the arms of the chair tightly. What was the alternative?
“Professor.” A woman pokes her head in through the doorway. “They’re waiting for you.”
“Ah.” He rises from his chair and runs a hand through his tousled hair to straighten it. “That will be the council wanting my report. Sit tight, Miss Blake. Someone will come to collect you shortly.”
I nod numbly, too overwhelmed by the situation to be annoyed that after all this fanfare, I am being told to sit and wait. Another shiver wracks my spine, and I wrap my arms around my middle, wishing for a blanket.
Professor Dal glances at me in concern, then points a long finger at the fireplace. “Ignis,” he says, and I jump as flames roar to life in the grate, instantly illuminating the room.
“Is that better?” he asks, giving me a warm smile.
“Good.” Satisfied that I’m comfortable, he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.
“Much.” I scoot eagerly toward the fire, wanting to soak in as much warmth as possible. Opening portals, conjuring magical fires, slaying demons…what else can reapers do? I turn my head to thank him, but he’s already gone, the door snapping shut behind him.
I sit by the fire awhile, enjoying the tea and cookies Professor Dalmatius left for me, but it isn’t long before I grow restless. What is he telling the others about me? And who are these “others” anyway, these faceless beings who get to decide my fate? He never told me what would happen if I didn’t get accepted to the academy—would I be allowed to go back to Earth? It hasn’t been that long since I’ve left my body, there is a chance I can still slip back into it—
And how, exactly, are you going to be able to get back to Earth? a snide voice in my head asks. Last time I checked, you don’t have the ability to rip holes into the fabric of reality to travel between realms.
I swallow, realizing how naïve I’m being. Of course they’re not going to send me back to Earth. But then where does that leave me? I am dead now, so that means I’ll have to move on to wherever normal spirits go, right? My father had been a Protestant—am I good enough to get into Heaven, or will I be sent to Hell for the time I’d stuffed frogspawn into Becca Stevens’s shoes when we were in third grade? Did Heaven and Hell even exist up here?
This is hopeless. I jump to my feet, cookies forgotten, and begin to pace the room. I can see through the window behind the couch that it’s nighttime where I am, and I squint as I look through the thick, wavy glass. There’s a courtyard right outside the window, and I think tables and chairs. Firelight flickers on the other side of the courtyard, reminding me a bit of the grounds of Lake Forest Academy, the private school I went to in lieu of public middle and high school.
Yeah, except that at Lake Forest, you weren’t dead.
I shake my head, resisting the urge to yank at my hair in frustration. I’m going to drive myself nuts if I stay in here. I need to talk to someone—I need answers.
Without really thinking about it, I cross the room and open the door. I catch the faint sound of voices down the hall and follow them. My faded Chucks scuff on the stone floor, and in no time they carry me to another doorway. This one has been left open a crack, explaining why I am able to hear the people within, and I hover just outside, listening carefully.