I stare at him.
“Mypowers?”
“The more you can do in the human realm, the more you should be able to sense karma.” His voice is back to that usual tone—cool, clinical, detached.” And suddenly, I remember something very important that I somehow forgot in the middle of all this.
This man is a cold-blooded murderer. Not my friend. Not someone I should want to touch.
This is exactly why we’re even talking right now—because he somehow hacked the Grim Reaper system and tethered my existence to his. He carved my bones. I should be in my willow tree, minding my own damn business, but no, here I am. With him and his unhinged companions.
All they care about is getting more victims. That’s what they want from me—to point them out. That’s it.
Besides… they are alive. I’m dead. Why would they even want me? That wouldn’t make any sense.
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” I ask, slowly. “Karma? Rules? I just—” I cut myself off before I say too much, before I admit how much I liked pretending otherwise.
“You just what?” he prompts.
I refuse to answer, because whatever was about to come out of my mouth was… embarrassing. Utterly unrealistic. Delusional.
Thankfully, he drops the topic with a shrug.
“I’m glad you don’t want to disappear anymore, Skye,” he tells me instead. “So now, if you can, follow me. We need to work on the Candy Maker case.”
And just like that, he turns and walks off.
And I follow.
Not because I want to. Not because I trust him. Not because I like his company.
But because I desperately need a distraction. I need something to keep my hands occupied. My mind. My fucking soul.
So I trail after him down the dimly lit corridors, past rusted doors and empty, echoing rooms. He doesn’t speak, and I don’t ask where we’re going. I just move.
At the end of a long hallway, he stops in front of a door. Pushes it open.
I step inside after him, half-expecting to find a secret lair. Or a murder den. Or more bodies to get rid of. But no.
It’s just a small, windowless room, lit by a single, flickering overhead lamp. A desk sits against one wall, cluttered with files and papers—some yellowed with age, others freshly printed. A single chair is tucked behind it. Nathaniel moves toward the desk and picks up a thick folder from the stack.
“Candy Maker,” he murmurs, laying out a photo. “Laura Collins.”
I stare.
It’s her. The woman from earlier. The one in the file. The one who owns the candy shop.
“What do you want me to do?” I glare up at him. “Just stand near her and hope I feel something?”
Nathaniel tilts his head, considering me. “More or less. Maybe you don’t even need to get close.”
I scoff. “That’s a shitty plan.”
“You haven’t even heard it yet.” He leans against the desk, flipping through the pages. “Besides, whatever limits you think you have… you’re different now.”
My stomach tightens. “Different how?”
He lifts a brow, looking almost disappointed that I even have to ask. “You’re feeling things, Skye. More than you should. Thatmeans your connection to this world is stronger than before. And if that’s the case, your connection to karma might be stronger too. I want you to try using it.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” I narrow my eyes. “What then? You’ll go looking for another Grim Reaper?”
