dripping was a beautiful thing when heard by the right person. In Rory’s case, it only pleased her when the blood belonged to those with black souls. Souls had colors of all different shades, and being a Fey meant she could see them if her skin touched theirs.
It was her favorite thing about being a Fey because it allowed her to actually see colors. She and her fraternal twin sister, Cora, were born with grey-scale sight, and everything around them was in black, white, and greys. It was a rare condition, but not unheard of.
When Rory started seeing souls as a child, her soul would whisper the names of the colors in her mind until she learned them all. It didn’t help with the rest of the realm, of course, but the burst of colors from those with good souls was a reprieve from her normal day to day.
She watched the blood drip from the man hanging upside down as she mindlessly touched the top of her ear. It was a nervous habit, stemming from her self-consciousness of looking differently from her parents and sister, who were different types of mystics.
Fey had pointed ears, and even though the point was so slight that if you weren’t paying attention you wouldn’t notice it, she still hated it.
She looked down at her enforcer boots with a groan. Blood covered the black leather and laces, and she knew she would scrub them all night. Lifting her boot, she peered at the soles. At least the bottoms were clean.
Stepping back, she made sure everything was perfect. The man’s feet were held up by chains connected to a meat hook, his arms were crossed over his chest and sewn in place with fishing line, and his throat was slashed deeply enough for most of the blood to drain from his body into a nice pool on the floor.
She hoped the woman he tried to assault was okay. There was no telling what he would have done had Rory not been following them. She surveyed the man one last time, gave a nod of approval, and picked up her backpack to head home.
As Rory trudged down the sidewalk in the early morning hours, she felt the guilt settle in. It always did after one of her kills, and even though she knew she did the right thing, taking a life was never easy. She willed herself to remember why she did it.
Cora giggled as Rory elbowed her in the ribs. “Stop, or he’s going to hear you,” Rory hissed.
Cora laughed louder, and Rory slapped her hand over her sister’s mouth. “I will shave your wool next time you shift,” she threatened. Cora was a lamb Shifter, and Rory never let her forget that fact.
“Go talk to him,” Cora whispered back. “You’re acting like you’re ten years old instead of thirteen.”
“What am I supposed to say?” Rory huffed. “‘Oh, hey Judd, I think you’re hot. Want to make out?’”
“Yes,” Cora asserted with a nod. “He likes you too. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when we’re together.”
Rory stared at Judd. He was a Fey the same age as the twins, and Rory’d had a crush on him for at least three months.
Cora stood from the picnic table and yelled, “Judd!”
“Cora!” Rory whisper-yelled as she tried to pull her sister down. “What the hell?”
Judd turned and waved, and Cora motioned for him to come over. “You’ll thank me later,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.
Rory shook her head tightly. “I’m going to murder you.”
“Hey, Cora,” Judd said with a wide smile. “Hey, Rory.”
“Hi,” they said in unison.
Rory saw Dume, their oldest friend, crossing the school courtyard and groaned. She would never hear the end of this.
“What are you doing after school on Friday?” Cora asked Judd.
Rory’s stomach dropped to her butt as she waited for his answer. She, Cora, and Dume were going to the movies on Friday, and she knew where this was going.
Judd stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m free,” he replied, but before Cora could invite him out with them, he added, “Do you want to come over and watch a movie?”
Rory’s ears rang, and Cora’s face scrunched. She looked at Rory with confused, apologetic eyes and turned back to Judd. “No.” She gave no explanation.
His cheeks turned pink, and Rory stood from the table abruptly. “You should go, Cora. It’ll be fun.” She threw her backpack over her shoulder and met Dume across the yard.
“What’s wrong?” Dume asked when she stopped in front of him.
“Nothing. Can we go?”
He stopped her from walking around him. “Not without Cora. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Rory, I’m so sorry,” Cora said, out of breath from running. “I swear, I thought he liked you.”
“It’s fine,” Rory clipped. “I’ll see you at home.”
She maneuvered around Dume, and Cora’s protests followed her. Her sister grabbed her arm and turned her around. “I said I’m sorry.”
Rory fought the tears pricking her eyes, refusing to cry at school. “I begged you not to do it.”
Cora looked back at Judd, who was still staring at her, and lifted her middle finger. His eyes widened as he looked behind him, and when he confirmed the gesture was meant for him, he shook his head and stomped off.
Rory grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled it down. “What is wrong with you?”
Cora shrugged. “He doesn’t like me anymore.” She motioned for Dume to join them. “Screw him.”
Rory pinched her lips together. “He did nothing wrong.”
Cora turned to her fully. “Everyone in our grade knows you like Judd, even him.”
Rory’s face burned hotter than a thousand suns. “No, they don’t.”
“Yes, they do,” Dume agreed.
Cora lifted a brow at Rory. “If someone asks your sister out in front of you, knowing you like them, they’re a prick. Even if you didn’t like him, I don’t date idiots.”
She threaded her arm through Rory’s. “He looks like he doesn’t brush his teeth, anyway. I sit next to him in period one, and his breath always stinks.”
Rory giggled despite herself. “That’s not true.”
“She’s right,” Dume chimed in. “That means he doesn’t wash his balls either.”
Both girls grabbed on to each other in a fit of laughter as they headed back inside the school. Rory rested her head on her sister’s shoulder as they walked, and Cora squeezed her hand and whispered, “Fuck him.”
Rory shook herself from the memory and whispered to herself, “For Cora.”
Ten years ago Rory watched through a window as her sister was brutally murdered, setting in motion Rory’s path to becoming one of the most prolific serial killers in all of Erdikoa.
Her guilt disappeared, and she continued home to sleep like a baby.
Rory toed off her boots and snuck into the apartment she shared with her mother, Lenora. Most people thought it odd that a twenty-five-year-old still lived with their parents, but once they learned her mother was a Sibyl, they understood.
Sibyls saw every potential future around them, and it caused them to go insane. Fortunately, their abilities didn’t begin to manifest until they were around forty-five years old, giving them time to enjoy some of their life.
Every mystic was born with a mark behind their left ear, identifying their abilities, and to be born with the mark of a Sibyl was to be given a finite timestamp on life. Because of this, her mother had lived her life to the fullest, but now she spent her days staring out the window, speaking in riddles no one understood.
After easing open the door, Rory slipped inside, holding her boots, and crept to the bathroom. Fey had the gift of being light on their toes, and she could usually walk around without waking her mother.
She stared at herself in the mirror and sighed. Her straight dark hair was still in a tight bun, but flyaway strands stuck up in every direction around her face. The mascara she’d put on before her lunch with Kordie, one of her best friends, was smudged across her skin, and she looked like a drowned rat.
She wished she could see herself in color, but having grey-scale sight meant she couldn’t even see the color of her own hair. Her mother said she had brunette hair and an olive skin tone, whatever that meant.
She peeled off her black hoodie, black leggings, and undergarments before turning on the shower to scalding hot. It would be more fitting if she wore a badass leather outfit like the actors in the supermystic movies, but leather was too hard to move in; it didn’t have the same range of motion good old-fashioned cotton possessed.
Most of her clothes were black, white, or grey, because they matched each other no matter what, and because of that, it made owning a dozen black hoodies and leggings seem normal. She either had Kordie shop with her to confirm her selections were in black, white, or grey, or she shopped on the essenet. Then she labeled the tags and put them away according to color. It was a pain in the ass.
The hot water melted away the knots in her shoulders, and she let out a long moan. A good fuck would ease her tension better than the water pelting her muscles, but showing up at a bar covered in blood was frowned upon. After scrubbing herself clean, she padded to her room and threw on a pair of sweatpants and an old, ratty t-shirt.
Gathering her clothes from the bathroom floor, she threw them into the laundering machine, dumped an insane amount of detergent into the barrel, and pressed start. With a scrub brush, cleaning spray, and her boots in hand, she stepped onto the balcony. Even though the boots were black, she never left evidence behind.
Cleaning was tedious, but it was also soothing. It was familiar, which she liked. She’d hated change since the day her realm was tilted on its axis, and as it always did on nights like these, her mind replayed the worst day of her life.
Rory didn’t feel well and stayed home from school that morning—at least, that’s what she told her family. Truthfully, she didn’t do the reading assignment for period five and didn’t want to fail the test that day.
Before leaving for school, Cora promised they would watch Rory’s favorite movie that night.
Rory sat on the couch by the window, bored after being alone all day. She knew Cora would be home soon and stared out the window, waiting for her as she huffed hot air on the glass to draw a smiley face.
She wiped the drawing away with the sleeve of her shirt and saw Cora turn on their street. “Thank the Seraphim.“ She pushed herself off the couch and pulled the window up to yell, but stopped when Bane, an older guy Cora met earlier that week, approached her. Did Cora forget about their movie date?
Bane summoned her sister into an alley across from their apartment, and before Rory realized what was happening, he pinned her to the wall, clamped his hand over her mouth, and stabbed her in the heart.
Rory screamed Cora’s name and clawed at the screen on the open window. She watched helplessly as Bane motioned to another man Rory hadn’t seen. The new man held up a clear jar to Cora’s mouth, and when she took her last breath, the inside of the jar filled with a bright pink light.
“No!” Rory screamed, the guttural cry burning her throat. The man with the jar was a Merrow, and he’d just captured her sister’s soul.
Merrows were soul stealers, and their abilities were supposed to be bound by the Crown, but somehow, his weren’t.
She ran for the door, sobbing in agony at what she’d seen, and her mother rushed into the room, asking what was wrong. All she could do was scream Cora’s name and point at the window as she fought to unlock the deadbolt. When her mother saw Cora lying in the alley, she pulled Rory back.
“Stay here.” She threw open the door and looked over her shoulder. “Do not leave the apartment.”
Ignoring her mother’s instructions, Rory pounded down the stairs after her. When they reached her sister’s body, her mother fell to her knees and tried to staunch the bleeding, but Rory knew it was too late.
She’d seen Cora’s soul leave. When mystics died, Rory saw their souls leave their bodies and disappear without having to touch them, something she learned in Fey history class last year. She never thought she’d have to see it.
Her mother stood and screamed for help as she fumbled her phone out of her back pocket. Rory fell to the ground next to Cora, pulled her into her lap, and rocked her back and forth as she cried.
Blood coated Rory’s shirt from holding Cora to her chest, and when the enforcers arrived, she held her tighter and twisted side to side as they tried to pry her sister’s lifeless body from her arms. She kicked and fought as she screamed her sister’s name until her throat was raw.
Her mother pulled her back and into her arms, and they stood, crying together, as their realm crumbled apart.
Rory scrubbed harder, clenching her jaw to fight down the tears. From that day on, she became obsessed with hunting down her sister’s killer and the Merrow who stole Cora’s soul.
Merrows used souls to heal themselves if they were hurt or to extend their lives as they aged. She could only hope she found the two men in time before Cora’s soul was gone forever.
When Rory was twenty-two, she took justice into her own hands, because too many times, innocent people were found dead in the streets with no one to blame.
She needed the practice for when she finally found Bane, anyway. If only she knew something, anything, about him.
Her sister only mentioned him once and showed Rory a picture she’d snuck across the room of the café where they’d met. Cora asked Rory to skip first period with her that day to get coffee, but Rory refused, too afraid to get in trouble. The picture was blurry, but still clear enough to recognize him in the alley.
When she asked Cora why she’d taken the picture in the first place, her sister replied, “There was something different about him.”
She and her twin shared everything, and when Cora didn’t voluntarily offer information, Rory peppered her with questions. Her sister gave vague answers, saying they only spoke for a few minutes, and despite the uneasy feeling in Rory’s stomach, she afforded her sister privacy.
Cora never said she liked him in that way, just that they were going to meet up for lunch later that week. He was older than her, and it seemed weird, but again, Rory didn’t want to step on her sister’s toes.
That was the extent of knowledge Rory had of the man who killed her sister, and she knew absolutely nothing of the man who captured her soul.
For years, she asked around about Bane and any known unbound Merrows, and while she had a few leads, they were all dead ends.
When she finally found Bane, she would watch him swing as his blood played the sweetest melody she would ever hear.
