Page 67 of Professor and the Seer
No.
I whirled as a bare-chested John in boxers filled the doorway, bestowing upon me that smile I’d come to love.
No.
My mouth opened to yell a warning.
Too late.
The sword that ripped through John’s chest shocked despite the fact I’d seen this scene played over and over again. In my vision, everything stopped at that moment.
I didn’t take it well. My wail emerged loud and shrill as I dropped to my knees, knowing before I even cast out my senses that the spirit inside his body was gone.
Dead.
He couldn’t be dead. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
A creak of leather and metal drew my gaze. I stood, only narrowly missing the pool of blood on the floor, glaring at the stranger holding the sword that killed the man I loved.
Only I realized it wasn’t a stranger but the man I’d seen in the vision. The husband who’d believed his lying wife and cast Reaper into that other dimension.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Come with me,” was his gruff order. He loomed over me, a tall man, but not as broad as before. He’d lost a lot of weight and appeared unhealthy with his gray complexion and the deep circles under his eyes.
“And if I say no, will you kill me too?” I choked out a reply. My eyes streamed with grief. Unlike the movies where true love’s tears revived, John didn’t suddenly recover.
“We both know I’m stronger than you. So let’s not make this harder than necessary.”
“You’ve already made this devastating. You didn’t have to kill him,” I sobbed.
“He would have tried to stop me. At least this way he died quickly.”
His version of kindness didn’t help. I turned my back on him to grab my pants, pulling them on over my bare legs. “How did you find me?”
“The marks that bind you to him also act as a beacon for her.”
“Her who?”
“She who commands me.” A nonreply.
Fully clothed, I whirled and snapped, “And who the fuck are you other than a murdering lackey?”
“Someone bound to obey, so don’t bother trying to plead. Are you ready? She’s waiting.”
“Can I at least get some socks?” I’d forgotten to grab a pair when snagging my clothes.
“Quickly.”
Doing my best to not look, or shudder, I stepped over John’s body, careful to avoid the spreading blood. The murderer clomped behind as I went to fetch my socks. He didn’t follow me inside the dark bedroom. Meanwhile, I did my best to avoid looking at the rumpled bed where I’d been so happy.
I kept my promise. Reaper’s whisper inside my head widened my eyes.
What did that mean? My head swiveled to see a lump under the covers and a head on the pillow.
My lips parted.
John was still in bed. Then what was the body in the bathroom?