I think I had the ghost version of a heart attack so I’m going to lie down at home. Tell me what happens when you get back from the trial.

Those were Elena’s last words to Belmont before vanishing from the woods. Translation? ‘I found out about this friend that you never mentioned before and you two are obviously close and I’m the worst friend ever’. If he had any brains, he would know that Elena left the woods out of shame, not fear.

Sitting on the ground outside the cave entrance, I felt the same, regretting that I never told her about Vivienne.

“If you squint hard and tilt your head, he kind of looks like a dog.” With his head cocked to the side, Belmont’s eyes fell on Mr. Jameson, the owner of a major oil company who looked like he already had one foot in the grave. “How can we tell? Maybe if I kick him in the leg, he’ll get angry and turn into a monster dog.”

“You’re not kicking an old man,” I chided. “Besides, I doubt it’s him. He’s been telling this yacht story for the past hour and I think Mr. Hilton would mention it if he disappeared.”

“I’m new to this supernatural thing so bear with me. How could dogs could be actual people?” he asked, weaving through the group. He was careful not to brush up against anyone in fear that it would trigger a sudden change. “You said that they’re not allowed above the surface unless they’re being used to keep insane reapers like Vivienne under control. It could’ve turned invisible then went back to wherever the hell it’s from and the tracks belonged to an actual person, not a dog in a disguise.”

Part of me wanted to agree with Belmont, thinking the insanity that I had been through made me paranoid. No matter how much I wanted to believe that it was coincidence, a dog’s tracks covering a person’s footprints, I knew that a hellhound, possibly two, was hiding among the Odyssey Society members. It seemed impossible that these creatures lived in Belmont Falls but, being a reaper with the power to see ghosts, I had no right to judge what was considered too crazy for this world.

“If Elena wasn’t such a baby, she could help us find it. Bet she’s crying into a pillow. It’s not like ghosts can die twice…” He was not confident in his assertion. “Can we?”

The mention of her made me feel worse. “She’s at the playground.”

He turned towards me, abandoning his intense scrutinizing of Isabelle. “Wh—is she forgetting that you almost died? N—not that it’s a big deal or anything,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “What, is she building a sand castle to hide from the hellhound?”

“It’s what she does when she’s upset,” I said, psyching myself up to get off the ground. “It’s her quiet spot. Before she died, she’d go there when her parents were fighting because it used to make her happy. She goes to clear her head and write in her special notebook, the pink glittery one. Poems, short stories…she says when she comes up with an amazing idea, I have to get it published so she can achieve her dream of being a famous writer.”

As I listened to Mr. Hilton discuss forming a search party, I caught Belmont making an awkward face from the corner of my eye. “I’ve known her since all we could do was crawl but I never knew she liked writing or that she had a secret spot. No wonder she hates me. Was I that bad of a boyfriend?”

“Well, you’re not in her top five and since she’s only had one other relationship with a British guy at summer camp when she was twelve…” I twirled my necklace between my fingers, remembering the jealousy burning inside me when she showed me pictures of her ‘teenage Mr. Darcy’. “If it’s any consolation, I’m currently not her favorite person either. It would be easy to blame Vivienne but it’s my fault. We’ll talk to her after the trial.”

“Tessa, are you okay?” Rhys sprinted towards me, holding an ice pack to his head. “I was worried that you got dragged into the woods.”

His head injury was effortlessly explained away by Vivienne, who concocted an elaborate story of a wild animal attacking him by the river. When he awoke, she was kneeling by his side and he could barely process her version of events, concerned by my disappearance.

“Benedict was about to send a bunch of us out to find you.” His eyes, widening in alarm, skimmed over my cuts and bruises from the hellhound attack. “It’s my fault. I’ve been out here a hundred times. I should’ve been more careful…heard it creeping up behind me. Isabelle brought a first aid kit. She can patch you up.”

“Rhys—”

I was interrupted by him observing my injuries. He theorized to himself over the possibilities of my attacker, including wolves and bears.

“It wasn’t an animal,” I said, wincing as his fingers grazed a bruise on my elbow.

“Then you definitely have to talk to Isabelle,” he insisted. “Drifters wander around here. Did you get a good look at their face?”

“No, it wasn’t—Vivienne hit you.”

Belmont shook his head so fast that I thought it was about to fall off his shoulders. Hearing my startling confession, Rhys stifled a laugh.

“You’re disoriented from what happened. Maybe the person looked like her,” he suggested, attempting to jog my memory. “At least we know it was a woman. That gives the police more to work with...I mean, it won’t be at the top of their list but Isabelle and Oliver will keep an eye out.”

“Byrne, abort. This is a terrible idea. You don’t need to tell my brother anything,” he said, not wanting to entangle him in this madness. “Tell him it was a joke.”

“Rhys, I lied to you before,” I confessed. “I know Vivienne…the real her. She’s just using you and when she’s done, you’ll be the latest on a long list of victims, including me. Don’t let your brother’s death be the reason that you make stupid decisions. You’re Rhys Belmont. The school has a goddamn award named after you and your sister and the teachers judge their students based on how much they’re like you. I’ve heard Mr. Simpson call me and my friend Will your mini clones after the science fair last year. If you think with your brain instead of your dick, you’d see that she’s nothing but a liar.”

When I unloaded everything I had been thinking since discovering his relationship with Vivienne, I thought he would be shocked or at least ask questions but instead, he flashed me that damn Belmont smile. His hand clasped my shoulder. It reminded me of the times I had seen his younger brother reject a hopeful girl wishing to be his date for a party.

“I get it, Tessa,” he said, kindly. “I went through this with Claire and plenty of girls. You’re jealous of Vivienne because you like me.”

It was either his gigantic, misplaced ego or the fear that the hellhound was preparing for a round two but I fought the sudden urge to vomit on his shoes.

Did I travel to the Twilight Zone? “I don't have a crush on you.”

“Don't be embarrassed. Like you said, I am kind of a legend at Belmont High,” he boasted, in an eerie imitation of his brother.

I swatted his hand from examining a scrape on my arm. “Did your dad pay off your teachers to get your perfect GPA? To get you into college? You can’t be a favorite of Mr. Simpson’s and this stupid. Is being a pigheaded jackass a family trait?”

“Tessa—” he began.

After chasing the hellhound, the adrenaline kick made me forget the pain but the second I simply stood on one leg, in an attempt to storm off in anger, I felt like it was about to break in half. Rhys held onto me, helping me limp towards the cave despite my protests.

“I don’t need your help,” I muttered, fighting the immense pain in my leg.

“Actually, you do but like my brother always said, you’re stubborn,” he acknowledged. I did not respond, to avoid giving him the satisfaction of being right. “Once you’ve rested, you’ll see that you imagined Vivienne hitting me. I know for a fact that she’d never do that.”

Several people shouted my name in a panic. Rhys carefully placed me down on the ground and handed me his ice pack.

I glanced up at him, ignoring the pebbles digging into my backside. “When I go to your funeral after she screws you over, I’ll give my condolences to your parents and when everyone is gone, I’ll walk over to your grave and say ‘I told you so’.”

At that moment, it was unclear what was colder: the ice pack on my thigh or my chilling, unapologetic tone. The flicker of fear in his eyes was proof that, even in the tiniest way, my words made him doubt his relationship. I would have kept chipping away at his wall of confidence if we were alone and I was not surrounded by Parker, Mr. Hilton, and other members of the group. Rhys had to speak on my behalf since Isabelle was too busy cleaning my cuts and checking that my leg was not severely injured.

“Mr. Hilton, I’m fine,” I maintained, despite the pain. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ve been through worse with my little brother when I try to get him to eat his vegetables.”

“That may be but you are my responsibility. I can have James drive you back early, if you wish,” he offered.

“No, I’ll rest for a bit and then I’ll be good to go,” I said, managing a weak smile.

Parker offered to keep me company while the group explored the cave. I struggled not to peek at my phone for a text from Elena or to send one myself, conceding that she needed her privacy.

“Were you really attacked by some woman?” he asked, skeptical of my lie.

“It was a big blur,” I said, adjusting the ice pack. “I remember talking to Rhys by the river and then getting dragged by my hair.”

This was a case where a lie sounded more realistic than the truth. Despite being a fan of Greek mythology, Parker would think I was insane if I told him about the existence of hellhounds.

I straightened, careful not to worsen the pain in my leg. “You didn’t have to stay with me.”

With a small shrug, he rubbed his shoulder. “Gotta make sure my date’s good for the dance. If you don’t think those cuts will heal before then, I’ve gotten pretty good at covering stuff like that up.”

“The king of the school can’t be seen with a girl unless she looks perfect, right?” I asked, holding in a groan as I shifted around to relieve the soreness in my backside.

He frowned at me. “I didn’t mean—personally, I think they make you look badass but you know how people like Claire can be sometimes.”

“More like all the time and I’m nowhere near a badass,” I said, feeling undeserving of such a compliment.

“Says the girl who beat up a crazy guy with a stapler,” he argued. “My dad told me what happened at Nelson’s house. I shouldn’t be surprised since I watched you break Claire’s nose but you are a force to be reckoned with, Byrne.”

Either the temperature had risen a thousand degrees or my cheeks had gone red. Judging by his grin, it was the latter.

“Hell, you spooked Jackson enough that they had to put him on psychiatric hold for a couple days,” he said, as if it was an accomplishment. “He kept babbling that you were a monster.”

“Have they looked into why he was there?” I asked, wondering if I could get answers about Jackson’s involvement. “Connor’s out of the hospital but no one said if the police found out who pushed him.”

“My dad hasn’t mentioned it except to say that it was an accident,” he said, shaking his head.

“Izzy brought it up when my mom and I visited the station before we went out to dinner. He kind of exploded when she showed him your witness statement and how it matched another neighbor’s report of someone sneaking into the house through the backyard. It was in the pile for the paper shredder and he threatened to have her demoted if she didn’t stop with the conspiracy theories.”

Hearing that proved that Chief Parker was somehow connected to this mysterious reaper. Why else would he attempt to cover up Mr. Mitchell’s attack instead of pinning the blame on a drunk like Jackson? Was this presumed alliance why he deemed Belmont’s death an accident?

“So what, he thinks Jackson wandered in after Connor fell?”

Parker wrung his hands and his eyes darted around the cave, as though someone was hiding behind the boulders near us. “Izzy thought it sounded weird too. Even if you don’t believe it, pretend that my dad is telling the truth. Bad things happen when you cross him. You don’t know what he’s capable of, Tessa.”

The next part of the expedition involved descending down a nearby chasm in pairs and searching for ancient artifacts. Parker leapt up at the snap of his father’s fingers and rushed to his side. There was a muted tension between them and I assumed that I was the source when Chief Parker nodded his head in my direction before continuing his lecture.

I fastened the blue climbing helmet on my head. “We could talk to Jackson. The guys and I always went to his place for booze before a party,” suggested Belmont. “If you threaten to do what you did to his arm before, he’ll tell us who hired him to get those papers. He’s our best shot at finding out who killed me. Whoever hired him could be connected to the killer.”

He was right that Jackson could be useful in uncovering the truth. “We won’t be able to talk to him directly. Chief Parker must have eyes on him to keep him quiet and if I go there, his spies will blab and he’ll accuse me of pushing Connor because I’m mentally unstable. When has Angela Starr ever listened to the police? They’ve threatened her daily but she still gets the story out. Maybe she’s talked to Jackson and she has a clue, even if she doesn’t know it.”

Belmont looked reluctant. “Garren won’t meet with her. He’d rather face a pack of wolves and I don’t blame him.”

“Me either but she’s the gossip queen of Belmont Falls so we can use that to get her attention,” I said, slowly formulating a plan. “We’ll iron out the details after the trial, if I’m not found guilty.”

“Nervous?” Dr. Baxter, no longer half naked and taking his anger out on trees, was in front of me. “No need to be scared, Tessa. As your partner, I’ll ensure your safety.”

“Chace is my partner so why don’t you go bother someone else?” I asked, wiping dirt from the back of my leggings as I lifted myself up from the ground.

“Declan agreed with me that it would be make sense to have someone more experienced as your partner,” he said, his attempt at concern not masking his delight. “What if Chace hurt himself while watching over you? There’s a big game soon. We don’t want the school’s star player to sit it out.”

Parker was with his friends, ignoring their worries about Friday’s game. Looking over Danvers’s shoulder (“I heard the whole team is on ’roids, man,” he said, earning nervous murmurs of agreement from his teammates), he saw Dr. Baxter with me, his expression a mirror of how I felt on the inside.

“I’m your guide. If you’re not comfortable with something, simply say so and we won’t do it.” He extended his hand. “Ready?”

“I’d rather disembowel myself. I’m not the type to make a scene but let’s make one thing clear, asshole,” I snarled like an angry cat. “You’re not allowed to touch me. Ever. Otherwise, I’ll tell Declan how you’ve been screwing his daughter.”

“Blackmail is a two way street.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “Chief Parker might be very interested in learning about your trip to the bridge at the Falls, a day after Fin’s accident. Do you think he’ll believe that feeble excuse of yours? I’m curious what you were really doing that day.”

Our charged exchange was interrupted by Vivienne looping her arm through mine. Acting as if she had not suffered a near-death experience an hour before, she declared that Rhys was woozy after being hit in the back of the head by an unknown assailant and with the group having an odd number, she was joining them as a trio. Rhys, holding a new bag of ice to his head, was sitting near Parker and his friends and gave a half-hearted wave to Vivienne, who blew him a kiss.

“Threesomes, my fave,” she joked, playfully nudging my shoulder.

Seeing that I was not in the mood for her jokes, she turned her attention to Dr. Baxter. Ironically, he was not eyeing her like a juicy steak. His eyes traveled up and down her body but more out of suspicion than lust.

“I don’t think we met yet,” she said, with her trademark flirtatious smile. “I’m Vivienne.”

“Brendon.”

“Oh, you teach at the high school, right? Rhys was telling me. I loved bio when I was in school. I was practically top of the class when it came to anatomy.” She secretly tickled my side. “I bet you’re a hands-on teacher.”

Oddly, he was not falling for her charm. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Do you get that weird vibe from him too?” she asked, as he walked over to the chasm and tied a rope around a large boulder close to the edge.

I wrenched my arm from her grasp. “Yeah. It’s because he’s a pervert who has most of the women in this town making heart eyes at him and the teenage girls wishing that he was the one screwing them instead of a horny boy who pats himself on the back for lasting more than thirty seconds.” Belmont looked offended but chose to say nothing when we made eye contact. “Just my luck that I’m in partnered with a conceited perv and a psychotic bitch.”

Fighting the urge to wince, I limped over to my backpack to retrieve the harness. Sage flew out when I unzipped the front pocket, circling my head before landing on my shoulder.

“Why is Cedric’s little spy with you?” Vivienne asked, her lip curled in disgust as I grabbed a bag of seeds from the side pocket.

“Taking me to my trial.” I let Sage feed out of my hand. “I accidentally summoned a special, highly protected dagger when I was trying not to get killed by a monster…the one your friend sent.”

“The only reapers I know in this town are you and your mother. That’s the truth,” she said, her hands on her hips. “Why would a reaper come after you?”

“Why did you kill your parents? The world’s full of unanswered questions,” replied Belmont.

He jumped when Vivienne waved her hands in a strange manner, pretending to cast a spell. Putting on a serious face, she insisted that she never met another reaper in Belmont Falls and if any were in hiding, either of us would have sensed them by now. Despite my grandmother’s claims that it was possible for a reaper to hide themselves from detection, she told me that the cloaking would not fool the council’s guard. The council had resources and power greater than the capabilities of an average reaper.

“I’ve been on trial so take my advice,” she said, sincerely. “Apologize for taking the dagger and tell them it was an accident. You’re like the least threatening person they’ve had in that courtroom. Every baby reaper breaks the rules once. It’s not a big deal.”

I placed Sage in my backpack and zipped it partially shut. “No. I’m going to ask for their help. When they hear what’s been happening, they’ll—”

“You being so optimistic and naïve is adorable,” interrupted Vivienne. “The council acts like they care about everyone but they don’t, Tessa. They care about protecting themselves and their precious rules. These are the same people who chuck kids in a hellhole for making a mistake and then abandon them. You think they don’t know those kids take their own lives out of desperation? If you tell them that you think a reaper is attacking people and their own kind? They’ll send you there too. It’s what they do with the so-called problematic reapers.”

A stranger would be heartened by her concern. I, on the other hand, knew that she solely cared about herself. Even if she appeared to be helping someone, it was out of self-interest. Aside from her selfishness, her opinion of the council was hardly unbiased.

“You’re wrong,” I said, dismissively. “You don’t want me to tell them because you’d rather that I rely on you. That’s why you sent those hellhounds, isn’t it? Did you meet them at a sleazy bar when you got released? Buy them a few drinks and convince them to go after me so you could act like a hero? Did they already live in Belmont Falls or did you bring them with you?”

She stared at me like I was speaking an alien language. “Did that fall affect your brain?”

Though Belmont deemed her cluelessness an act to gain my trust, I knew her well and she seemed genuinely confused by my accusation. If she knew that the hellhounds were walking amongst us on the trip, she would be teasing me about that very fact with veiled remarks (“If he gets anymore excited, he’ll start wagging his tail”) that, to the oblivious, would sound like jokes.

The one advantage to being partners with Vivienne was that she stopped Dr. Baxter from making lewd comments towards me. It took her a millisecond to see that his interest went beyond teacher and student and if he got too handsy, she was prepared to cut his rope. Her protectiveness also allowed me and Belmont to discuss the hellhound situation in private.

Trying to determine the hellhound’s true identity was difficult, between my injuries, being forced to be within an inch of my least favorite people, and Belmont’s eagerness to accuse any person of being a dog. I held my tongue when he pointed out that Mr. Hilton was repeatedly scratching his ear.

As I concentrated on not falling, he made a list of reasons why a certain person was or was not the hellhound. His main suspect was Mr. Hilton as the smaller hellhound, considering that was the one protecting me during the attack and he had a ‘soft spot’ for me.

“Scratching your ear doesn’t make you a dog. It could be a mosquito bite,” I whispered, pretending to adjust my helmet. “Someone would notice if he went missing.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He focused on Danvers. “I saw him catch a frisbee with his mouth sophomore year.”

“That’s just proof he’s an idiot,” I mumbled.

Upon returning to the Hilton’s home, Parker managed to escape his father, who had kept him on a tight leash. He offered to drive me home, reminding me of the ploy I used to distract Vivienne in the woods. Before I could come up with a convincing excuse, Garren walked towards us, his nostrils flaring at the mere sight of me.

“Had a run-in with a thief. They had a pretty good right hook,” he said when Parker noted the nasty bruise on his temple. “I’m actually taking Tessa home.”

“Why?” he asked, confused. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I had a couple questions to ask her father so I told him I’d drop her off,” Garren lied, squeezing my shoulder a bit too tight. “I’m sure you two can hang out another time. We should get going, Tessa.”

“I’ll uh see you later,” I said, giving him a quick wave before following Garren.

An air of uncomfortable silence pervaded the car as he drove out of the gated community, with both me and Belmont in the backseat. It was the one instance where I would rather be lectured than thrown judgmental looks through the mirror. Perched on the dashboard, Sage chirped in varying keys to direct him to the location of the trial. Belmont refrained from making jokes about his ability to ‘speak bird’ though keeping quiet was making him bounce up and down in his seat like an impatient child.

“Oliver,” I started, breaking the silence.

“Don’t,” he said, firmly. “After we’ve sorted this mess with the council, we’ll discuss why you knocked me out. It’s between us so I won’t mention it to my father or Cedric. I’d ask to reschedule to give you time to recuperate from whatever attacked you—and it wasn’t a hellhound before you two babble about that again—but the council doesn’t like to be kept waiting, no matter what.”

“It was a hellhound and I already told you that whoever it was, yeah I said whoever…they were on the trip with me,” I said, refusing to let go of my theory. “I’m not going to waste my breath convincing you. You know I wouldn’t have hit you if it wasn’t import—”

Stuck at a red light, he turned in his seat. His expression was a mixture of confusion, anger, and disappointment.

“Apparently, I know nothing,” he snapped. “I thought I knew you but maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re like Vivienne, putting on an act. Why else would she be this intent on getting close to you at risk of being reprimanded by the council? Moving to Belmont Falls, dating Rhys Belmont…”

“I—it’s complicated,” I said, shrinking under his intense gaze. “I wanted to tell you in the bathroom but I was scared and I can’t explain it over a ten minute car ride. When this is over, I promise to tell you the truth.”

Relieved that the tension was somewhat broken, Belmont took the opportunity to ask questions about the trial, including its location (“It’s in the Underworld, but it’s not like a Disney movie,” I said, rebuffing his image of a man with flaming blue hair and demonic minions as pure fantasy) and how the council decided on my guilt or innocence.

Garren had never witnessed a trial himself, due to his father forbidding him from visiting him at work, but, as a boy, he had read transcripts from past trials, sneaking into his father’s office late at night. The severity of the trial depended on the accused’s crimes and if they possessed any priors, whether it was supernaturally related or a something mundane like a DUI. Years of watching sci-fi and fantasy movies gave Belmont his own idea of their journey to the Underworld.

“It’s like a portal?” he asked, his pale green eyes lighting up with excitement. “I watched this movie with Rhys once where the main character had to slice his hand with this fancy knife in the middle of the woods and make a weird pattern with his blood. When he spoke an old language, the ground started shaking and a swirling vortex opened up right below him. It was awesome.”

“Sounds overly complicated,” I said, dread creeping up the back of my throat as Garren stopped the car.

“Are we here already? Do I get to do something or do ghosts have another way of getting there?” He looked out the window, the local bank on the other side of the glass. “This is the bank.”

I undid my seat belt. “Perceptive as always, Belmont. With those brains, why did you need your dad to pay off the school so you could pass every year? You should’ve easily been top of the class.”

Walking up the steps to the bank, I regretted bringing him along for the trip, even if he was key to proving my innocence. Garren shared the same thought, pinching the bridge of his nose as Belmont questioned why we were waiting on a long line instead of heading to the trial.

“It starts in half an hour,” he said, pointing to the clock. “Is this the time to take out money?”

“Fin, for once in your life, be quiet. We won’t be late.” Reaching into his coat, he handed me a pack of tissues. “You need to look somewhat presentable. We’ll tell the council that you were mugged. That will gain you some sympathy.”

In the midst of muttering about incompetent workers, the elderly woman before us, dressed in an oversized fur coat that was possibly made from a giant polar bear and sporting gaudy rings on both wrinkly hands, narrowed her shrewd eyes at me. I stopped wiping the caked blood under my nose and placed my hood over my head to avoid the stares of bystanders.

“Next, please,” said a soft-spoken voice.

The three of us, with Belmont still questioning this odd visit, walked over to the next available bank teller, a young blonde in a white silk blouse and a black pencil skirt. I recognized her as Naomi Cohen, a girl who graduated when I was a freshman and was known for her sunny disposition. She tucked a loose strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, her pale cheeks flushed.

“Officer Garren, hi.” You’re looking—oh no, what happened?” she asked, spotting his bruise.

“Nothing serious, Naomi,” he said, covering it with his hair. “It’s part of being a cop.”

“I remember when you stopped that robber here a few months ago. You were so brave,” she reminisced. “How can I help you today?”

“I’d like to withdraw one penny from my account.”

Belmont looked at him strangely. “What? Who the hell only takes out one—what’s happening?”

Her aquamarine eyes were glazed, their twinkle gone. “Did those creatures follow

us? Is she possessed?”

Naomi retrieved a set of keys from the drawer behind the window and unfastened the rusty key from the chain. “Here you go. Please return the key when you’re finished.”

Her expression returned to normal as another woman, looking like she left an intense session at the gym, took our place. Pretending to search through my bag, I grabbed Belmont by his sleeve and dragged him down the hallway. He turned his head back towards the bank teller window where Naomi was aiding the woman, having no recollection of her conversation with Garren.

“There are portals to the Underworld but we don’t open them by sacrificing small animals or dripping blood on a stone in the middle of the woods,” I whispered to him. “Every town has seven portals to represent the seven deadly sins. Pride, sl—”

“I know what those are, Byrne. Sunday school practically beat it into me. That doesn’t explain anything. Her eyes went all weird,” he said, mimicking Naomi’s vacant expression. “It’s like she wasn’t herself.”

As we passed a security guard, I revealed to Belmont that the portals were hidden from ordinary people. The entry point for the accused was chosen based on their particular crime. In my case, the council considered taking the dagger to be theft, a part of greed, which was the reason for traveling through the bank.

To ensure it remained hidden, the key was given if the employees heard a specific phrase, one not used in normal conversation. When a person was employed at the location of a portal, a member of the council activated them.

“The council member implants the phrase in their head, along with what they are to do when they hear it, but then the employee forgets about it…until they hear that phrase again,” explained Garren.

Belmont responded with a blank stare. “Basically, it’s like brainwashing,” I said, choosing a simpler approach. “The council deactivates them when they’re no longer employed at the site of the portal. Not everyone agrees with it. When they were my age, my grandparents were part of a protest to change how the portals were hidden.”

Garren advised me against mentioning my grandparents to the council, given their poor reputation among most of its members. He stopped at a bare wall at the end of the hallway, where Sage began flying in a specific pattern, a thread of silver light emerging from its tail feathers. The pattern was in the shape of a Celtic knot, emanating a faint glow, and as it faded, a steel elevator door appeared in the wall.

“Relax, no one else can see it,” I assured a stunned Belmont. “Sorry it’s not a swirling vortex of doom.”

The inside of the elevator was decorated in art from various cultures, each depicting their versions of the underworld. I remembered my grandmother’s stories about the largest mural reflecting the heritage of the head of the council and at the moment, it was a mural of Mag Mell, an idyllic afterlife in Irish mythology.

The further the elevator descended, the further reality set in: in a few minutes, my fate was in the hands of powerful strangers. As I played with my necklace, I wished that Elena was beside me, instead of sitting on a swing with her notebook.

“Whoa.”

Belmont’s voice snapped me out of my own thoughts. The steel elevator doors had opened and he was in awe of his first glimpse of the underworld. Instead of the commonly associated fire and brimstone, it was a bustling marketplace with people of all ethnicities selling a wide range of goods, from jewelry to potion ingredients.

Garren kept a hand on Belmont’s shoulder, steering him away from the eccentric peddlers. I waved at an elderly Mexican woman selling necklaces that warded off dangerous spirits.

“Do you know her?” Belmont asked as the woman waved back with a kind smile.

“Yeah, she’s friends with my grandmother,” I said, standing on the other side of Garren. “She visits her a lot and we’ve had her over for dinner. They’ve known each other for like fifty years.”

“How does she visit?” he asked, raising his brow. “Aren’t these people dead?”

“Not everyone. Some just do business down here. Most of it is innocent stuff like jewelry, food, clothes…but the others are a little more underhanded. Think of it like the underworld version of a black market,” I explained, pointing at a sleazy man, his grey greasy hair slicked back, selling hellhound venom (“Just a drop and your enemies will be left paralyzed for up to an hour,” he boasted, holding a vial of blood red liquid between his stubby fingers) for the ‘small price’ of five hundred dollars. “That’s why my mother never lets me come down here. My grandmother did once when I was ten to visit Rosa and it started a huge fight. She told my mother that it was an educational lesson about brujas.”

He looked away from a food stand. “Bruwhat?”

“Witch healers. There’s not just hellhounds and reapers, Belmont. There’s a whole world you can’t see unless you know it’s there,” I said, seeing his head spin with this new information. “That’s why they work in the Underworld. They don’t want things like these to fall into the hands of an average human.”

As Garren led us through the massive crowd, it was my job to keep Belmont away from unsavory people, who were far more common in the underworld than someone like Rosa. I distracted him with stories about the underworld, including how its appearance was updated to match the times aboveground and the same occurred with each culture’s ideas of paradise and eternal torture.

“Fin, we are here for a trial, not to shop,” said a frustrated Garren when Belmont asked to explore the stands.

“We won’t be late. Come on, when are we ever getting a chance to visit again, man? Let us have fun before the council probably decides to lock Byrne away forever.” He shrugged at my harsh glare. “What? We’re all thinking it’ll happen, aren’t we? What’s wrong with a little fun?”

“Nothing,” said a soft melodic voice.

It belonged to a girl our age stepping out of an alleyway, immediately catching Belmont’s attention with the pink highlights in her dark wavy hair and her dress that was better suited for a nightclub than a marketplace, the cut stopping just above her bellybutton. His eyes lingered on her long, brown legs, his stupor broken by my fingers pinching his arm.

She grazed her fingers along his bicep, once again grabbing his attention. “I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying, handsome.”

The way Belmont was openly drooling, I thought he might drown the entire underworld.

“Bet you could,” I retorted, with blatant contempt.

Her dark eyes wandered over to me, her fingers still on his muscular arm. “Hi, baby Tessie. I heard you’d be paying a visit. It’s not every day a goody-goody reaper gets in trouble. What’d you do, get a C on a test?” she joked. “Your ghost friend is right. You should have fun. I’m Amara, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Fin,” he said, excited by the fact that he was able to feel her touch. “I’m all about fun.”

“How would you like to hear your future, Fin?” she asked, flirtatiously. “Come with me.”

“Fin, wait—and he’s gone,” said Garren, watching Belmont eagerly follow the seductive Amara into the dark alley. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone this way. He uses girls like her to get his customers.”

“In a way, it is a smart business strategy,” I admitted, having seen many boys and grown men get tangled in Amara’s web.

Together, we hurried after Belmont before he lost a limb or worse. We had just passed through the narrow alley when a hooded figure bumped into me, nearly knocking me to the ground. The stranger did not even have the decency to apologize, continuing on their way, and I was about to yell at them until I caught a familiar scent, unsure of where I encountered it. Clutching their shoulder, the stranger disappeared into an apothecary.

“Tessa!”

Shaking off the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, I caught up with Garren, who was at the end of the alley, banging on a black door.

“Password?” asked Amara, sweetly.

“Enough of this, Amara!” he shouted. “Let us in.”

“I need the password,” she repeated.

“The password is let us in or I’ll post a video of you and a certain someone after a lot of whiskey. I never deleted it,” I threatened. “One person sees it and your social life will plummet.”

The door swung open, revealing an amused Amara. “Look at that, Viv’s little pet has teeth. Come on in, the fun’s about to start.”

Belmont was sitting at a wooden round table, symbols carved around the edges and a crystal ball in the center. The man across from him, his face shielded by the hood of his cloak, was moving his large hands around the crystal ball.

“Tessa, Oliver, come to join the show?” he asked, speaking with a thick Greek accent. “I was about to tell young Fin his future.”

“He’s dead. What could you possibly tell him?” I countered.

White smoke swirled inside the crystal ball, hypnotizing Belmont. “He wishes to know if his killer is caught. I see that it plagues his mind greatly. Let me ease that pain.”

“Fin, don’t do this,” I implored. “It’s not as simple as reading your fortune. That’s why Carnus uses girls like Amara to bring people to him…to distract them so they’ll do whatever he wants. For once, don’t think with the worm between your legs. I can’t believe I’m saying this but you’re smarter than that. He won’t tell you the whole truth anyway. That’s how he works.”

Amara sat beside Belmont, using her sexuality to drown out my pleas. He was too busy eyeing her cleavage to listen to reason.

“It’s fun, trust me. Don’t you want to have fun, Fin?” she asked, ruffling his hair.

“Sure,” he said, pushing me away. “How do I uh get my fortune? Do I have to give you a drop of blood or something?”

Belmont fell out of his chair, his head slamming into the hard floor, as Carnus lowered his hood. He looked like a normal man, who used to be handsome, with his disheveled dark hair and bronze skin except for the stitches (shaped in an X) in place of his eyes. Reaching under his seat, he placed a jar, filled to the brim with moving eyes, on the table.

“I require your eyes as payment for this service,” stated Carnus, like he was asking for a dollar.

“Where the hell are yours?” he squeaked.

“Taken from me long ago, I’m afraid,” the blind seer replied, dolefully. “But once I put your eyes where mine once were, I can see into your future. There’s no need to be frightened. Amara can tell you. I’ve done this countless times. The procedure to remove them is painless.”

She held up a menacing knife. Spots of dried blood were visible on the blade.

“You’ll get one back of your choice,” assured Carnus. “I keep the other as a token. Do we have a deal?”

He scrambled to his feet and stood behind me, as if afraid that Amara would attack him with the knife. “No way. You’re not taking my eyes.”

“Fin, I promise it doesn’t hurt,” said Amara, pouting. “Don’t you want to know who’s to blame for ending your pathetic life? You’re a ghost. You don’t need more than one eye but if you really do, there’s a stand nearby that sells replacements. Even with one eye, you’d still be super cute.”

“Hey, he’s not pathetic!” I spat. “He was the best quarterback in the state. If anyone here is pathetic, it’s you, the girl who seduces anyone who walks by your creepy alley to get some money.”

Amara tossed her chair back as she stood up and held the knife dangerously close to my face. The fire burning in her eyes reminded me why I never picked fights with her in the past.

“You should watch how you talk to me, Tessie. If what I’ve heard is true, that whole council is going to find you guilty, no matter how much you beg and plead and cry,” she hissed. “Then you’ll want friends like me because you’ll have no one else. I’ll be a good friend to have when you need something. Viv knew that and so did Damon.”

“What did you say?” I asked, thinking that I heard her wrong.

“Yeah, we’ve been seeing each other a lot like the old days,” she said, knowing she struck a nerve. “He knows how to sweet talk me into doing anything. You can ask him yourself when Cedric chucks you into a room next to him.”

Leading me out of the room, Garrett rejected Amara’s claims as nothing more than a cruel joke, a way to get under my skin. He ignored Belmont’s frantic questions about the ‘creepy guy with no eyes’, Amara, and Damon (“Who is he? Another reaper?”), insisting that we needed to get to the trial. I had little doubt that Amara purposely dropped that truth bomb to make me forget everything I prepared and it worked since the only thing on my mind was Damon, the thought sending shivers down my spine.

I had not even realized that we were standing outside the council’s headquarters, the building resembling a courthouse, until I heard Garren speaking with a burly, stone-faced guards. As the guard gave him directions, I noticed the same hooded figure from before, sitting on a bench with a paper bag. Their hood made it impossible to see their face but somehow, I knew they were staring straight at me.

Garren nudged me inside the building and it was even more imposing in person, compared to the pictures in my mother’s books. The stone grey walls seemed to stretch for miles, as if reaching the heavens themselves, and portraits of past and present council members adorned one wall.

It was oddly calming to see my grandfather’s face among them, reminding me how he was lauded as a fair and kind member, giving even the worst cases a chance to redeem themselves, until a new Grandmaster replaced the previous one and kicked him out of the council to replace him with a stricter member.

Near the doors was a twenty foot tall statue of the grim reaper, with men, women, and children bowing down at its feet. My mother always told me that the statue was meant to show a reaper’s importance, how they had control over life and death.

Swarms of people passed by us, dressed the same (the men in crisp black business suits with a white button down shirt and black loafers and the women in a similar button down with a black blazer, matching pencil skirt that stopped just at the knee, and matching heels) and walking in two lines, one for each gender. No one said a word to each other, staring straight ahead with not a single emotion on their faces. The only distinguishing feature was a gold, silver, or bronze badge, depending on their position.

“Whoa,” said Belmont, seeing a woman, a silver badge like one worn by the police pinned to her blazer, disappear into the wall instead of taking the stairs. “Is she a—”

“Ghost? Yeah. All kinds of people work for the council. Ghosts are part of their special forces to bring in dangerous criminals,” I replied, keeping up with Garren. “They can’t be seen by regular people so it’s easier for them to sneak around.”

Having never been inside the council’s headquarters, I was looking around with just as much wonder as Belmont. The ghosts vanished within the walls while the rest stepped into elevators that went in every direction or sat in rowboats on an indoor river, manned by hooded figures with corpse-like hands.

The murals in the elevators were on the floors, constantly changing every few seconds. Television screens were mounted on the walls, depicting the same blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman giving news updates around the world. Unlike the usual news, these reports were far more cheerful, with not one instance of death or violence.

“That’s a lot weirder now if we’re right,” said Belmont, looking at a woman with a hellhound, no bigger than a puppy, in her purse. “Think she’s got some kind of weird fetish? What are you two doing?”

Stopping in front of a pair of giant doors at the end of the hall, images of reapers, guardians, hellhounds, ghosts, and other supernatural beings carved into the wood and the handles in the shape of the grim reaper’s scythe, Garren and I placed a hand on our chests. Others on either side of us did the same, their heads held high.

“Put your hand on your chest,” I whispered. People began to notice Belmont was the only one among them with his hands down and one man, possibly a professional wrestler before becoming a ghost, in particular was ready to fight him. “Do it now and just mouth the words.”

Belmont listened to me, completely lost.

“Gods are fair. Gods are just. Gods protect us. That we trust,” the small group of us chorused as the doors swung open, bathing the hall in a silvery light.

He hesitated to move his hand until he saw me lower mine. “What was that?” he asked as people passed through the doors, the beefy man knocking into him. “You sounded like robots.”

“Our motto. We have to say it in our prayers and before we enter the council’s chambers,” I said, joining the rest of the group.

One at a time, people approached a short, balding man in round glasses behind a desk before being sent to another room within the chamber. Those who worked in the building skipped the line, heading to their offices.

“You have to?” He looked at me in disbelief. “You don’t think that’s creepy, Byrne?”

“The council members are the only ones who have seen the gods up close,” I said, answering his silly question. “They’re sort of like secondary gods, in a way. It’s how we show our respect for what they do. We learn it as soon as we’re able to talk.”

“Still sounds creepy to me. Wait, what do you mean they’ve seen the gods up close? You’re not—” He snickered. “You really think those exist? Like the council members are just having tea with Zeus?”

“Not just him,” I said, shaking my head. “Gods from any culture…”

“You know they probably say that so everyone listens to them,” he said, as if it was obvious. “I mean, do they have pictures with these gods? Even if they did, ten bucks says they’re photoshopped.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Belmont,” I replied, clenching my fists. “Shut up or I’ll call Amara to come get you and scoop out your eyes.”

After sending away a woman who twitched repeatedly as she walked, muttering what sounded like Latin under her breath, the bespectacled man said, “Next, please.”

Garren stepped forward. “Oliver Garren, guardian to Tessa Byrne. I’m here to escort her to her trial tonight, along with a witness Finley Belmont.” (“It’s Fin, man. What the hell?” he muttered, getting shushed by Garren) “Do you need to see a form of ID?”

The man’s eyes, magnified by the glasses, scanned the parchment in his hand, the end of his pen scratching his chin. He tapped the parchment twice and turned it around before placing it on the table.

“I need you two to confirm your identities,” he said, sliding the parchment towards me. “Just touch your thumb under your name, please. Miss Byrne, you first.”

I pressed my thumb against the parchment and winced as I felt a slight prick. Lifting my thumb, I saw a small drop of blood that seeped into the paper.

Belmont did the same then the man picked up the parchment. “Everything appears to be in order. Your trial will be in the main chamber, Miss Byrne. Please wait—”

“The main—I’m sorry,” interrupted Garren. “You must have her confused with someone else.

My father works with the council and I know the main chamber is for…a certain kind of person.

Her trial is over a small matter, nothing that serious really.”

“As I was saying,” he continued, his eyes on me. “Please wait to the side and someone will escort you into the main chamber when the council is ready to proceed. Good luck to you.”

Garren nervously fiddled with his hands as the three of us stepped out of the line. Belmont and I watched him pace back and forth and whisper to himself.

“What kind of person is the main chamber for?” I asked, seeing him grow more panicked by the minute. “Why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not—the main chamber is for people like Vivienne. Those who have committed the worst crimes and the trial is in front of the entire council,” he explained. “I don’t understand why they’d put you through that. I know taking the blade is a serious offense but you’ve never been in trouble before. Surely they can understand that it was an accident, not done out of malicious intent.”

“Amara’s right. They already think I’m guilty,” I said, my heart sinking at the realization that I was possibly seconds from a lifetime sentence in Erinyes.

He shook his head. “No, don’t let her get to you. You did nothing wrong, Tessa. Just stick to what we talked about and they won’t convict you of any crime. Cedric is a fair man. With Fin’s testimony, that will make it all the more clear that you’re innocent. Don’t let this shake your confidence.”

“Already made a mistake with her, boy?” I heard.

A middle-aged man in a crisp dark blue suit, his golden blonde hair slicked back with gel and not a strand out of place, walked towards us, leaning against a sterling silver skull headed cane. Judging by the color draining from Garren’s face and his striking resemblance to the man, I knew that he was his father. He was exactly as Garren described: strait-laced and daunting, standing nearly seven feet tall.

“Father, it’s good to see you,” said Garren, bowing his head. “Certainly not under these circumstances but um…oh, Mother wanted to know if you’ll be joining us for Christmas dinner. She’s invited the—”

“Your reaper is on trial and you wish to talk about a dinner?” he sneered. He sounded more like a stern boss than a father. “Keep your priorities straight, boy.”

“Um hi, Mr. Garren, sir,” I said, to defuse the tension. “I’m Te—”

He regarded my outstretched hand like it was covered in slime. “I see your parents haven’t taught your manners. Children don’t speak unless they’re spoken to, Miss Byrne.”

I lowered my hand, unsure if I should even respond, and Garren threw me an apologetic look before returning to a stoic face in front of his father. Belmont decided to stay quiet to avoid his own tongue-lashing.

“She’s about to stand trial and you bring her to the council like this?” Mr. Garren asked, indicating my scrapes and bruises. “Have you no sense?”

“She was mugged on her way to meeting me. I managed to clean her up a bit,” he said, sounding like a scolded child. “Believe me, she looked much worse earlier. The council should be judging her on her testimony, not her appearance. They can’t fault her for something out of her control. Father, if I may ask, why is her trial in the main chamber?”

His eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. “Are you questioning my decisions and by extension, the council’s? We do as we see fit. No matter if she stands trial in the main chamber or a bathroom stall, we will judge her based on what we hear. I’ll escort you in when the council is ready. You best not disappoint me, boy.”

His cane tapped against the tile floor as he walked over to the balding man. Garren released a deep breath once his back was turned and the two men began a deep conversation.

Somehow, I was feeling worse than before.

“Your dad’s a jerk,” commented Belmont. “He knows your name, right? Or does he think your name is boy?”

Garren heaved a heavy sigh. “My father doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve. He has certain standards for the family. He wants me to be the best, always has.” He faced me, looking sympathetic. I’m sorry for what he said to you, Tessa. He’s old-fashioned. Now you can see why I want you to stick to the hard facts. Don’t bring up strange monsters or hellhounds. Many people on the council are like my father and they’ll write you off as insane.”

I

f I could not turn to the council for help, what was I supposed to do? The whole point of telling the truth was to pass the burden onto those more capable than me.

“But we have proof.” That did not sway him. “They can take my memories and see—Oliver, the council might be the only ones who can do something about those creatures. Some of them are centuries old. They probably know what they are and how to get rid of them.”

“Now is not the time. Let us get through tonight,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to have to go home and give your parents bad news.”

The mood dropped considerably when his father returned, looking between the three of us with

shrewd eyes. “The trial will begin momentarily. I suggest you be prepared, Miss Byrne. We will not tolerate any nonsense or foolish excuses.”

A hearty yet oddly familiar laugh echoed through the halls.

“Lionel, there’s no need to scare the poor girl. Keep talking like that and she’ll have a heart attack before this trial even begins.”