Queen of The Reapers by Jessa Halliwell

Eleven

The drivethrough the city flies by and before I know it, the landscape in front of us changes. The tall skyscrapers of Downtown transform into the Valley’s familiar corner stores and run-down gas stations, but soon enough, we pass those in a blur.

It’s nearly 1am and as we cross the border into Oakville, there isn’t a single car on the road besides us. Oakville is a quiet town with a whopping population of 1,304. Their downtown area, if you could even call it that, boasts ten ‘mom and pop’ shops and what I can only describe as the tiniest movie theatre on the planet. As we drive through, I’m not surprised to find the streets completely deserted and the handful of shops closed for the night. The city itself is so tiny that if you blink, you may miss it.

Tristan pulls the car to a stop in front of the town’s lone red light and drums his thumbs against the steering wheel. Time ticks by slowly as we wait for the green light, and I can feel the adrenaline building within me.

We’re less than ten minutes away from Dina’s, which means we’re less than ten minutes away from seeing my sister. Ten minutes away from reuniting with the only person in this world that loves me unconditionally. I used to count The Reapers in that same boat, but after what happened with Dimitri, I see where their loyalty lies.

I’m not stupid. I know this impromptu recon mission is a ploy to get themselves back in my good graces. And it could have worked if things had played out differently tonight. But I’m not sure if things can ever be the same with us again.

Right now, I’ll play the part of the grateful girlfriend if it means I get my sister back. I don't know where Alex and I will go from here, but once I have her by my side, we’ll figure it out.

An ear-piercing siren blares into the quiet night, penetrating through the glass windows and jarring the three of us into high-alert.

“Where is that coming from?” I ask, searching out into the darkness.

The bulky industrial buildings lining the street ahead block most of the view, but the siren seems to get closer.

“No idea.” Tristan says, checking his mirrors as his hands squeeze the steering wheel. “Wherever it’s going, it’s moving f... fast.”

“I don’t see anything.” Cyrus adds, shuffling into the middle of the back seat. “It’s probably heading back to the Valley.”

“Yeah.” I agree, hesitantly. “You’re probably right.”

We still see no sights of the source as the sirens simmer down to a gentle whisper in the distance. It's quiet again, but I still can’t shake the feeling of foreboding the siren stirred up. Maybe it’s my nerves, maybe it's my own pessimistic viewpoint, but something about tonight just doesn’t feel right.

A few minutes later, we turn onto Dina’s block and it feels eerily like the night I left Alex here. Darkness coats the sky and the streets virtually empty. All I can hear is the sound of my pounding heartbeat as Tristan drags the car forward.

The red glow on Tristan’s knuckles is my first sign something’s wrong. I drag my eyes up to his face and see the same eerie light radiating off of him. Crimson flashes across the planes of his chiseled face, highlighting his strong cheekbones in a soft pink while emphasizing the shadows in a darker shade of rust. His expression is hard to decipher, a mixture of confusion and concern hardens his stare.

I turn to see what he’s looking at and my mouth falls open as chaos erupts around us. My stomach sinks as we watch a stream of people come shuffling past us. All of them look out of sorts. Some are crying and others look so terrified it steals my breath away.

“What the fuck is going on?” I ask, my voice trembling as I study each face that passes us.

“I don’t know.” Tristan answers honestly. “But we’re about to f… find out.”

Two parked cop cars block us from entering any further, so Tristan throws the car into park in the middle of the street, and kills the engine. He and Cyrus pull me out of the car as a unit, careful to keep their eyes on the strangers rushing past us. They flank my sides, acting as a barrier of protection as we wade against the sea of panic.

“Do you smell that?” Cyrus asks, glaring over my head at his twin. Tristan gives him a firm nod before answering.

“S… smoke.”

Picking up our pace, the three of us rush towards the motel. Bodies collide with ours as our steps gain momentum, but the twins are like an impenetrable shield, and we move through the crowd quickly.

We round the corner of the building and the scene we find in front of us knocks the wind out of me.

Bodies.

At least a dozen littered across the parking lot. Some of them are still conscious with paramedics doing everything they can to help as their mouths scream in agony and their faces twist in pain, but most of them are lifeless. Nothing more than piles of raw skin and charred bones. A raging fire burns bright behind them, swallowing the old decrepit building with a startling quickness.

Cyrus immediately seeks the fire marshal and pulls him aside, discreetly sliding him a few bills for his time. Tristan does the same with a few of the police officers on scene, doing what he can to get as much information as possible. I’m frozen in place as I look out at the scene before me. I’ve never seen this much damage. This much brutal carnage. How the fuck did this happen?

Numbly, I duck under the caution tape and begin scanning the bodies for signs of my sister. I’m doing my best to keep my emotions under lock, but it’s hard not to be affected with so much devastation surrounding you. Everything in my gut is telling me she’s not one of them, but I have to be sure and with no one around to stop me, this may be my only chance to see for myself.

The scent of charred flesh and burnt hair fills my lungs as I stop by each body. I gently slide the white sheets down and assess their features before carefully pulling them back up. Their faces are charred, some of them burnt beyond recognition, but none of them are even close to looking like Alex. Once I finish with examining the last body, I release a shaky breath and signal the twins. She isn’t in the parking lot, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear.

I spot room 132 and my feet start moving towards the door of their own volition. At first, my steps are clumsy and unsure, but once I get my bearings, they turn into powerful and determined strides. A firefighter who takes notice of my path, tries to intervene, but my body easily slips out of his hold. I have to know she got out and I need to see it with my own eyes.

Ignoring the protests of the firefighters and medics on the scene, I dash for the doorway and throw myself straight into the burnt room. The fire already tore through this side of the building and I don’t give a fuck if it isn’t structurally safe. If Alex is in there somewhere, I’m not leaving her behind.

As soon as I get a good look around the room, I freeze. Everything is burned beyond recognition, but that isn’t what rattles me. There, on her bathroom mirror in giant crimson letters, is a message. One that feels personal.

IT'S NEVER A CRIME TO STEAL FROM A THIEF.

In an instant, all the air in my lungs leaves my body. My world feels like it’s spinning and my breathing becomes ragged. I try to find my balance, but my shaky knees give out from underneath me and I crumple into the singed carpet.

This was no freak accident.

This was a targeted attack.

And there’s only one person I know that has the power to pull off something of this magnitude. The only person left who has something to gain by hurting me.

Melanie fucking Diaz.