Reaper Read Free

living with Laney, and the weekends flying back here in Indiana. It was exhausting and I just barely passed my classes. I left New York for good not on speaking terms with my parents.
    I rode my white Arabian, Mystery, spent as much time as possible brushing him and then my other horse Neptune, baked cupcakes, and alphabetized my bookshelf. Around seven that evening, Harrison called me back.
    “Hey Annie,” he said casually. “Why did you call?”
    “I was bored,” I replied. And I missed him, terribly. In the last year or so, Harrison had become more of a friend than annoying twin brother.
    “Oh, I was hoping you’d have cool demon news.”
    “Harry, there’s nothing cool about demons,” I stated. A few months ago, he had been kidnapped and used as leverage against me by Asaroth, a demon who tried to take my powers. I thought Harrison would be scared shitless of demons, but he called every now and then asking if I had killed anything new. Harrison wasn’t big for talking to me on the phone, but I was able to keep a conversation going for ten more minutes. When I hung up, I felt lonely. I texted Ethan, telling him I missed and loved him and set my phone down.
    I turned the family room TV on and the volume up loud, quickly heated up soup, and settled on the couch to eat dinner. When a loud bang that sounded like someone dropped a stack of hardcover books came from behind me, I jumped and sloshed tomato soup down the front of my shirt. Not bothering to wipe up the mess, I set my bowl down and sprang up.
    “Who’s there?” I asked, irked at my shaky voice and cliché question. “You picked the wrong girl to mess with,” I warned, hating the predictability in my word choice. I held my breath as I waited. When nothing happened, I padded into the kitchen to get a towel. Giving up on mopping the soup off my shirt with the damp towel, I took it off and rinsed it in the sink.
    A familiar creaking made my blood run cold. I dropped my shirt and sprinted out of the kitchen. The front door was slowly opening. My body slammed against it, expecting something to resist. The door easily shut. With shaking hands, I locked the deadbolt. I knew that I had locked the door. I had even checked more than once.
    Something slapped the glass on the sliding glass door in the breakfast nook on the opposite side of the house. I jumped again, my breath catching in my chest. Forgetting I was only wearing short rainbow striped pajama shorts and a yellow push up bra, I forced myself to bravely walk down the hall. I held my hands slightly out to the sides, bringing in energy to have at my disposal.
    As soon as I got into the nook, the doorbell rang. Then the sink turned on, spewing out brown, foul smelling water. I ran over and turned it off. Loud foot falls came from the front porch. The doorbell rang again before a minute of silence became deafening.
    Then something hit the window behind me so hard I thought it might break.
    “If you’re gonna attack me, just do it already!” I yelled, ready for a fight. “I invite you in, if that helps!” I clenched my fists, pissed off instead of scared. Something thumped down the stairs, through the family room, and scurried past me, laughing. I whirled around, wide eyed. A finger brushed against my cheek. Ok, the anger was wearing off now.
    The doorbell rang once more. The stomping was on the back patio now. Suddenly I realized that anyone could see into the house with the lights on. “Off!” I screamed and telekinetically turned off every light in the house.
    “That was dumb,” I said in the darkness. Now I couldn’t see. But neither could they. The TV shut off; I hadn’t done that. I held my breath in the quiet, waiting for whatever was out there to make the next move. A soft moaning came from my right. I put my hands out in front of me to feel my way out of the kitchen and into the family room. The floor boards in there had always creaked, so at least I’d know if someone—or some thing