Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things (Dead Things Series Book 1) Read Free Page B

voice dropped into a whisper. “Please, please, don’t do anything stupid, Mace. Just watch the girl and report what you see. A trained monkey could do it.”
    “Yes,” he told her. “That’s the thing of it. He could have assigned anybody to watch the girl, why the homicidal maniac? Why hire a killer to babysit one tiny human girl? Seems like a terrible staffing choice, really, like hiring an alcoholic to tend your bar.”
    “Just mind your business, do your job and don’t do anything that is going to get you in trouble.”
    “What’s he going to do? Kill me? I’m immortal.”
    She made a grunt of frustration. “Yes, well there are far worse things than death as you well remember. Whatever she is, she’s got him on edge. Don’t make him mad.”
    He sighed, “I’ll be in touch.”
    He ended the call just as she opened the old laptop that sat on the coffee table. She sat on the floor typing furiously for the next few hours, her attention never wavering. The rain had disappeared by the time she hoisted her bag over her shoulder and headed for her front door. She didn’t even bother to lock it behind her.
    “Now where are you headed?” he asked the empty rooftop.

3
    KAI
    K ai Lonergan hated math. You would think being a supernatural creature in a supernatural town would make you exempt from mundane things like math and econ, but no; the authorities forced shifters, witches and even reapers like himself to endure the horrors of high school. The town claimed they had their reasons; keeping up appearances-blah, blah, blah-but as far as he could see it was just good old-fashioned torture.
    He dropped his chin to his hand and sighed dramatically. “I hate this,” he told his sister. Tristin didn’t even look up from her notebook. He leaned to peer past the waterfall of her dark hair. She sat hunched over her desk, tongue poking from the side of her mouth. His sister was no artist but he could see she was doodling dismembered stick figures with pools of black ink at their feet. Great, as if people didn’t already think they were freaks. The school therapist would have a field day with that.
    He continued his conversation despite his sister’s lack of participation. “Hate’s not even a strong enough word,” he decided. “I loathe math. Detest it. I hate math more than I hate asparagus, more than I hate that weird fruit thing Isa makes us choke down every Christmas. I hate math more than I hate,” he shuddered, “marshmallows.”
    His sister shook her head and grunted but didn’t otherwise acknowledge him. If Quinn were there, he’d understand. Quinn understood his hatred of squishy weird foods because he was the best, best friend ever. However, Quinn was in smart people math where they started throwing in hearts and hieroglyphics and alchemical symbols, most of which he was sure they just made up. Quinn assured him it wasn’t so but he knew no good could ever come from putting math and chemistry together.
    “Come on, Tristin, commiserate with me. Be my sister, let us band together over a mutual hatred of math.”
    A desk chair scraped behind him and a shadow loomed over his desk. Warm air puffed against his skin as an angry werewolf rumbled, “Shut. Up.”
    Kai grimaced. He’d managed to forget Rhys’ annoying presence for almost ten whole minutes. That was a new record for him. In Kai’s defense, it was hard to forget a six foot six slab of muscle who shadowed your every move. It was especially hard when they wore their shirts tight enough to count their abs and smelled like rain and sex and poor life choices. He closed his eyes, attempting to regulate his teenage hormones and wildly thumping heart before Rhys smelled it on him.
    He needed a distraction. He decided on the easiest course of action, annoying the wolf. It was a win-win. He leaned back until his head was resting on Rhys’ desk and grinned up at his perpetually grumpy face. “From this angle it looks like you’re actually