I wake up in a large bed with a sheet pulled over my naked body. I don’t sit up right away; every muscle in my body too sore. He was rough with me last night, rougher than normal, which is saying a lot. I think he was trying to make me cry, but I refused to give him the satisfaction, no matter how much my eyes wanted to shed tears.

But as I lay in this bed with the quietness around me, where my thoughts are too loud, pain, guilt, and disgust roll over me in a giant mess of waves.

I killed that witch last night.

An innocent witch.

And then he touched me, hurt me, tried to break me.

I wanted to break. Wanted to break him.

Yet, here I am, not broken, at least on the outside.

This is never going to end.

Hopelessness weighs down on me and tears drip from my eyes as I clutch the sheets.

“Are you all right?”

I startle, lifting my head.

Standing near the fireplace with an empty silver platter in his hand is Holden, Mr. Reaper’s servant.

I relax a drop.

Holden is a blond-haired, youthful-looking vampire who has been Mr. Reaper’s servant since before I was brought here. We’re not really permitted to talk much, but I often look forward to our brief encounters, our quick looks of empathy that let me know I’m not alone in this hell of a life. We haven’t ever touched, though, due to a command made by Mr. and Mrs. Reaper the moment I was dragged into the castle, but sometimes I think about it—what it would be like to touch him. Just our gazes meeting brings me a little inner peace in a life now filled with anguish. And while I’m not certain, I often wonder if perhaps our shared looks bring Holden a bit of peace, as well. At least, I hope they do.

Like me, he’s not here under his own free will. I also think Mrs. Reaper is his mother. Why she forces her son to be a servant in the castle is beyond me. But since Holden is a vampire and has no Grim Reaper blood inside him, I’m positive Mr. Reaper isn’t his father. Maybe that’s why.

I find it strange that the queen of the Soul Realm is a vampire since most vampires reside in the Midnight Realm. Most creatures like to stay with their own kind, although Mr. and Mrs. Reaper aren’t really together. I don’t think anyway. They just rule together. Why and how that happened, who the hell knows. But they’re both equally as cruel and coldhearted.

“I’m fine,” I tell Holden, pulling the sheet closer to my chest.

His gaze skims the dark grey walls of the bedroom, the shut door, then the open closet before he steps closer to the bed. “I know you’re trapped here like me,” he whispers more words to me than he ever has as he sets the tray down on the nightstand beside the bed. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to be alone in this.”

He looks so broken, so beaten down as he turns to leave. I know Mr. Reaper beats him. I’ve heard his cries late at night, piercing through the castle.

“Wait,” I daringly call out, but he zips out of the room and softly closes the door.

Sighing in misery and longing for him to come back, I sit up and scan the bedroom, looking for my clothes so I can get dressed and return to the dungeon where, hopefully, Mr. Reaper will leave me for a bit. But then my gaze lands on the tray Holden left behind, and my heart leaps in my chest. Well, not necessarily at the sight of the tray itself, but the silver knife upon it.

A breath rushes from my lips as I pick the knife up and touch the tip of my finger to it. I wince as blood pools from my skin.

The knife’s sharper than I thought, which makes me wonder why it is on the tray to begin with. Mr. Reaper has been very cautious about letting me near any sharp objects unless he’s watching me closely enough that he can make a command in time if I decide to stab him. So, why would he leave the knife behind while I’m not under any supervision?

I glance at plate, fork, and goblet on the tray. Clearly, Mr. Reaper had breakfast brought to him this morning and ate while I was passed out, but the knife in my hand is way too sharp to be a butter knife or a steak knife.

“Where the hell did it come from?” I whisper. Did Holden leave it on purpose?

As a beat of silence trickles by, a thought occurs to me. What if this is a test? What if Mr. Reaper left the knife on the tray to see if I’d pick it up, so he could punish me for it later?

I nervously peer around the room, at the shadows on the walls, at the furniture and door, waiting for him to emerge and declare that I broke the rules simply by picking up the knife. But he never appears, and I’m left trying to figure out what to do. Put the knife down? Or hold on to it and strike when the time is right?

The knife won’t kill Mr. Reaper, not by any means, nor will it help me escape, since the tattoo will still remain on my arm. But it will hurt him if I stab him in the right place. And I want to hurt him. Badly.

But if I do go through with this—if I hurt him—I’ll have to be prepared to use the knife on myself. Because the punishment that will follow won’t be something I’ll be able to survive.

Images of the last nine years flood my thoughts. All the pain and torture I’ve both inflicted and received. Then I think about last night; how I was banished from the one bar I was allowed in and how Mr. Reaper took away my privilege of leaving the castle.

“I have nothing left,” I whisper, pushing up from the bed, gripping the knife.

A voice in the back of my mind screams at me to be careful. That I’m far too important to give up. But I tell the voice to go to hell. That I’m tired of waiting around to see if that’s true. To see if what my mom said to me before she sent me here was true.

I quickly pick up my T-shirt from off the floor and tug it over my head. I’ve just pulled on my underwear when the bedroom door swings open.

Panicking, I tuck the knife into the waistband of my underwear so the handle rests against my back, the blade lightly grazing my ass cheek.

Shit, this is disaster. And the disaster only doubles as Mr. Reaper strolls into the room.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” His lips twist into a hollow smile as he shuts the door behind him. “I have some stuff for you to do this morning, and then we’re going to come back here and spend the rest of the day doing a repeat of last night.”

I flinch, my chest tightening.

When he notices, his grin amplifies. “You’re upset. Good. Maybe you’ll start respecting me a little bit better.”

The knife feels as if it weighs a hundred pounds against my back. Do I dare use it? Have I finally reached that point? The point where I’m ready to give up completely? To say to hell with what I could be and what I need to do?

“If I did … start respecting you better … would you …? Will you consider maybe letting me out of the castle again?” The desperation seeping from my tone makes me cringe.

He moves in front of me with his head tilted to the side. “You think you deserve that?”

Feeling as though I’m walking into a trap, I try to choose my next words carefully. “Only if you think I do.”

His smile remains on his face, but his eyes flame. “You know what I think?” He strokes my cheek with the back of my hand. “I think you still haven’t learned your lesson yet.” Smoke funnels from his lips as he slides his hand down to my neck, grasping tightly. “What will it take, Star, to make you realize I own you?”

I gasp as he squeezes the air from my lungs. “Please … don’t …”

He angles his head to the right, tightening his grip. “Why? I mean, we both know that deep down you want this, right? Want to die? That you think about it every night.”

Cold fear chills my bones. How does he know that when I’ve never told a single soul?

“It’s written all over your face, just like it is now.” He reaches up with his free hand and caresses my cheekbone. “You’re afraid and confused and lost. But deep down, you’re also relieved at the idea that I might not let you go. That I may very well just finish you and put you out of your pathetic misery.”

Yes, please do it. Please put me out of my misery.

He laughs darkly. “But if I did that, I’m doing you a favor, and I don’t do favors for any creature.” He releases my neck, and I fall to the floor on my hands and knees, gasping for air. “Besides, I need to keep you around. Who else would soul steal for me?”

I blink up at him as ragged breaths rush from my lips. “Soul steal?”

The corners of his lips tug upward into a haunting smile. “What? Did you think I just had you killing off creatures for me for the sheer pleasure of it?” He crouches in front of me. “As pathetic as you are, I guess I sort of owe you a thank you. After all, you’ve stolen me three times as much souls as I usually collect over nearly a decade’s time.”

“But … I didn’t steal any souls,” I whisper hoarsely. “All I did was …” My body begins to tremble as I think about exactly what I’ve been doing for him.

“Kill innocent creatures for me,” he finishes for me. “How do you think soul stealing works?” He grins at my confusion. “Grim Reapers aren’t allowed to just take souls. The creature must die first, unfortunately. Thanks to you, though, I’ve found a way around that ridiculous rule.”

Tears pool in my eyes as I kneel up. “But, why?”

Puzzlement etches onto his face. “Why what?”

A few tears slip down my cheeks as my chest burns, with heartache, I think. Heartache for all those innocent lives I took. “Why do you need so many souls?”

His eyes flash brightly then darken. “Because the more souls I take, the more powerful I get.”

He’s just another power-hungry creature. Just like the werewolf that planted the vines. Just like my mother who betrayed me and sent me here.

Power.

Power.

Power.

Power ruins everything.

Even my power has ruined so many lives.

Suddenly, my heartache cracks apart, shatters, and shifts into something else.

Something scorching and potently violent.

My fingers drift to my back.

It’s time to put an end to this, to another disaster caused by power hunger.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” he questions with frightening excitement blazing in his eyes.

My hand freezes near the handle of the knife. “Ask you why what?”

He leans closer, his breath cold against my cheek. “Why I need the extra power?”

My fingers tremble as I grip the handle of the knife. “Why do you need the extra power?”

He dips his lips closer. “Because death is coming for our realms. Has been for years now. But you already know that, don’t you?”

No. There’s no way he could know about that.

But, what if he does?

What if he’s known the entire time?

I will my voice to come out even. “What are you talking about?”

He curls his hand around the base of my neck again. “Don’t lie to me, Star. I know what you are. Have since your mother gave you to me.” His grip tightens when I start to jerk back. “Did you really think I took you in simply to be my prisoner? And think wisely before you answer that.”

“Th-That’s really what I thought,” I stammer truthfully. “Well, up until you just told me that you’re using me to soul steal.”

He slants back to meet my gaze with doubt in his eyes. “And the thought never crossed your mind that maybe I kept you for all these years because of what you are?”

“Well, I am a very powerful witch, so yes—”

He cuts me off with a sharp squeeze to my neck. “Don’t lie to me,” he growls out. “I know what you are, Star. I know you’re a nature energy creature. That between your witch power and your nature energy, one day you could be powerful enough to take over all the realms, if you want to. That before I bought you from your mother, you were wasting your powers, trying to save the realms.”

My heart misses a beat—actually stops for a breath of an instant. He knows what I am … He bought me from my mother? But … I thought my mom sent me here to keep what I am a secret. Thought that her aching betrayal had a bigger purpose—to help save the realms from the deadly vines. How can that be possible, though, if she told the king of the Soul Realm what I am? No creature is supposed to know about that—not until it was time for all seven of the nature energy creatures to eliminate the vines. That was the plan anyway. What she swore to me after she poisoned me into sedation.

If that’s all a lie, does that mean she hasn’t been searching for the last remaining energy creatures this entire time, like she promised me she would before she marked me with the skeleton tattoo and handed me over to the Mr. Reaper? Even with me being sedated, it took five witches’ powers just to ink my skin with the magic spell. I put up a good fight—I really did—but my mom had already secretly poisoned me …

“I feel funny …” I murmur after I’ve eat a piece of cake she made for my birthday.

She smiles sadly at me. “That’s because I poisoned you.”

I blink as the room spins and push away from the table. The chair topples over as I raise my arm, muttering a motionless spell. But my palm only sparks, the magical energy normally channeling through my body almost dormant.

“You won’t be able to use magic on me for at least a few hours.” My mom picks up the empty plate and sets it on the counter. “By the time your powers do return, you won’t be in control over your magic anymore. Well, at least without the Grim Reaper king’s permission.”

I brace my hands atop the table as I almost topple over. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” She moves around the table and awkwardly pats my back. “But after doing some searching, I finally found our nature energy witch.”

“Who is it?” I murmur through the dizziness. “And what does this have to do with you giving me and my powers to the Grim Reaper king?”

“Because you’re the creature, Star,” she whispers in my ear. “And to protect what you are, I’ve decided the best place for you is in the Soul Realm where you can’t cast spells without permission and draw attention to yourself.” She coldly kisses my cheek. “I’m sorry, but this is the only way to save the realms.”

That’s when the other five witches bust into the room and strip me of my powers …

But it was all a lie.

Oh, my gods, I feel ill.

“You didn’t know, did you? That your mother told me?” Mr. Reaper smiles in wicked delight.

I shake my head from side to side, shock whipping through me. But underneath the shock, burns a blinding rage, a roaring fire ready to ignite.

Betrayal.

Betrayal

Betrayal.

I was under the impression that my time in this fucking hell of a demon realm with Mr. Reaper was for a greater cause—to keep me hidden. But it was a lie.

Was everything a lie?

Lies.

Lies.

Lies.

What else did they lie to me about?

Mr. Reaper’s eyes shimmer with pure delight as he licks his lips. “You really didn’t know, did you? Any of this?” He chuckles, sounding stupidly happy. The sound makes me achingly pissed off. “Gods, you’re stupid. This entire time I thought you knew the real reason you were here. You’re ridiculous. How can a creature who’s so powerful be so weak at the same time?”

Anger simmers under my flesh. “Real reason?” I bite out, desperate for answers. Desperate to hear the honest truth of why my mom sent me here.

He only continues to laugh in my face, slipping his hand from my neck, his guard down, as if he truly believes I’m weak.

Weak. Maybe I am. After all, I ended up here, believing that all my misery had a purpose. But, what if it didn’t? What if only bad will come out of my suffering here? After all, so many creatures died from my magic already. What if all those extra souls Mr. Reaper has been gaining will lead to a fate worse than even the vines?

Undiluted rage ripples through my body as the heaviness constantly pressing against my chest explodes, eliminating any fear or doubt I had.

I draw out the knife and plunge it into the Mr. Reaper’s chest as I let out a realms-shattering scream.

His eyes flash the brightest yellow, then simmer into a hazy storm. Clutching his chest, greyish black smoke wisps from his lips.

“You’re going to pay for this,” he threatens as he falls backward toward the floor, black ooze weeping from the wound.

“No, I’m not.” I look him dead in the eye as I yank out the knife, letting my hatred for him shine through. “Trust me.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I collapse to my knees and aim the knife at my own chest, right above my heart. Tears spill from my eyes, and my hands quiver as fear pulsates through my veins. Beneath the fear, though, relief whispers through.

I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.

I’m sorry I became a killer.

I’m sorry this is how it’s ending.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry—

Mr. Reaper unexpectedly leaps up from the floor. “Yes, Star, you’re right. Soon, you’ll be very sorry.”

I cry out as he pries the knife from my hand, causing the blade to slide across my palms and split open the skin.

“Did you think it’d be that easy to kill me?” he growls out, aiming the blade coated in both my blood and his at my throat. “Did you really think you could kill death?”

No. But I thought stabbing him in the chest would hinder him unconscious for a bit longer than it did. I’ve seen reapers get injured by chest wounds before, and they usually get knocked out for a few minutes.

“I’m the king of the dead,” Mr. Reaper snarls as my bottom lip quivers. “I’m more powerful than any other creature in this realm. Soon, in all the realms.”

As the knife cuts into my throat, out of instinct, I reach for the handle.

“Don’t you dare.” He seizes hold of my wrists with his free hand and positions his lips beside my ear. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you?”

“No,” I choke out. “And I really don’t care. Do you want to know why?” I slant forward, growling in his ear, “Because I don’t give a shit about you or anything you say. Never have. And I hope you have fun fucking yourself after I’m gone.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere.” His lips gradually spread to a grin. “Because after I kill you, I’m going to take your soul and make you what you apparently hate.”

My heart pounds in my chest. Wait … He’s not talking about a Grim Reaper, is he?

He laughs at my confusion and horror. “Can’t figure it out?” He grips my wrists, his fingernails splitting open the skin. “Just take a look in front of you.” Then he leans back so all I can see is him.

The Grim Reaper.

A murderer.

A soul stealer.

My tormenter.

I was right. He is going to make me a Grim Reaper.

I open my mouth to scream, but he spears the knife deep into my chest. Pain bursts through my body then everything goes still as darkness sweeps over me, wraps around my body, and drags me down, down, down …

Into the darkness.