Chapter 6

"You have to kill them," she said. Her voice came out flat. "You have to kill eighteen hundred people."

"Yeah."

"In a year."

"Yeah."

"Or the debt transfers to me. And my kids. And their kids."

Aiden looked at Vera. She was crumpled on the floor where the Executioner had left her. Ink hopped over, nudged her shoulder with his beak. No response.

"She's breathing," Ink said. He sounded tired. "Barely."

The Lead Auditor was backing toward the door. His boots scraped the concrete. He still had that page from Margaret's file clutched in one hand. His other hand was reaching behind him, feeling for the exit.

"You're not going anywhere," Aiden said.

The auditor froze.

"I want to see the original file," Aiden said. "Margaret Vaughn's file. The whole thing."

The auditor's mouth opened. Closed. He glanced at Leah. "I don't have clearance to—"

"You just watched the Executioner rewrite my contract," Aiden said. "You really think clearance matters right now?"

The auditor swallowed. He looked at the page in his hand. Then he pulled a small black ledger from inside his coat. The cover was stamped with a silver reaper's mark. He held it out like it might bite him.

Leah got to her feet. She swayed. Aiden caught her elbow. She didn't pull away. Didn't thank him either. Just walked over and took the ledger.

She opened it.

The first page was a photo. Black and white. A woman in a hospital gown, lying in a bed, holding a newborn. The woman had Leah's eyes. Dark hair pulled back. Tired smile.

"That's her," Leah said. Her voice was barely there.

Aiden looked over her shoulder. Under the photo was a date. March 14th, 1993. Location: St. Michael's Hospital, delivery room 3. Status: marked for collection.

Leah flipped the page.

The next entry was handwritten. Reaper assigned: Aiden Crow. Target: Margaret Vaughn, 29, postpartum hemorrhage, estimated time of death 11:47 PM.

Leah's finger traced the words. Her hand was shaking.

"You were supposed to kill her that night," she said.

"I know."

"Right after I was born."

"I know."

She turned the page.

Blank.

She turned another page. Blank. Another. Blank. The whole rest of the ledger was empty except for the last page. That one had something. Leah held the book up to the dim light.

Black blood was seeping through the paper.

It wasn't ink. It moved. Spread. Formed letters.

Leah Vaughn. Born March 14th, 1993, 11:52 PM. Marked for collection: March 14th, 1993, 11:52 PM.

"What the hell," Leah whispered.

Aiden's chest went cold. He grabbed the ledger. The blood was still wet. He touched it. His fingers came away black.

"That's not possible," Ink said. He flapped up to Aiden's shoulder, stared at the page. "You can't mark someone for death the same minute they're born."

"The Executioner did," Aiden said.

Leah was backing away. "No. No, that's not—my mom lived. She raised me. I saw her die when I was sixteen. She had cancer. She—"

"Did you see the death certificate?" Aiden asked.

Leah stopped.

"Did you see her body?" Aiden asked.

Leah's jaw tightened. "They cremated her. I was at the funeral. I scattered her ashes."

"Who told you she had cancer?"

"The doctors. The hospice nurse. My aunt—" Leah's voice cracked. She looked at the ledger. At the blank pages. "She's not in the system. She's not logged as alive or dead."

"Because she wasn't supposed to exist past that night," Aiden said. "I let her walk. The Council never updated her file. She fell through the cracks."

"Or you changed the wrong fate," Leah said.

The words landed like a blade.

Aiden looked at her. She was staring at him. Her eyes were wet but her face was hard.

"Maybe you weren't going soft," Leah said. "Maybe you screwed up. Maybe my mom was supposed to die and I was supposed to live and you swapped it."

Ink made a low croaking sound. "Kid, that's not how it works—"

"Then why is my death time the same as my birth time?" Leah's voice was rising. "Why is there black blood on the page? Why does the Executioner care about me?"

Aiden didn't have an answer.

The Lead Auditor cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him. He was still pressed against the wall, eyes wide.

"There's a protocol," he said. "For files like this. When someone falls through the cracks. The Council sends a Correction Team. They—" He stopped. Looked at Leah. "They usually don't let the person live long enough to find out."

Leah laughed. It came out sharp and bitter. "So I've been dead this whole time. I'm just walking around anyway."

"You're alive," Aiden said.

"Because you traded eighteen hundred lives for mine." She turned on him. "Why? You don't even know me. You didn't know my mom. Why would you do that?"

Aiden opened his mouth. Closed it. He didn't know how to explain it. Didn't know if he could.

The tracker on his wrist pulsed. The first red bar was brighter now. Marcus Webb. Apartment 6C. Tonight.

Leah saw it. Her face changed. "You need to go."

"Yeah."

"You need to kill someone."

"Yeah."

She looked at the ledger in her hands. At the black blood still wet on the last page. Then she looked at him.

"Take me with you," she said.

Ink's head snapped up. "Absolutely not."

"I need to see it," Leah said. Her voice was steady now. Cold. "I need to see what you traded for me. I need to know what it costs."

Aiden studied her. She didn't look away.

"Fine," he said.

Ink swore. The Lead Auditor made a choking sound.

Leah closed the ledger. She tucked it under her arm. "Let's go."

Aiden turned toward the door. His chest still ached where the Executioner's blade had gone in. His wrist burned where the tracker sat. Two names. Two lives. Eighteen hundred to go.

He was halfway to the exit when Leah spoke again.

"Aiden."

He looked back.

She was standing over Vera. The ghost was still unconscious. Still breathing. Barely.

"What happens to her?" Leah asked.

"I don't know," Aiden said.

Leah crouched down. Touched Vera's forehead. The ghost's skin was cold. Too cold.

"She gave herself up for me," Leah said. "She let the Executioner use her body so I could live."

"Yeah."

"That's two people now," Leah said. She stood up. Looked at him. "Two people who paid for me. And I didn't ask for any of it."

Aiden didn't answer.

Leah walked past him. Out the door. Into the alley. The rain had stopped. The streetlights buzzed overhead. Somewhere across the city, Marcus Webb was going about his night. Watching TV. Brushing his teeth. Maybe calling his mom. He had no idea a reaper was coming.

Aiden followed Leah into the street. Ink landed on his shoulder.

"This is a bad idea," Ink muttered.

"Yeah," Aiden said.

Leah stopped at the corner. She opened the ledger again. Stared at the last page. The black blood had dried into a date and time. March 14th, 1993, 11:52 PM. Her birthday. Her death day.

"If I was supposed to die that night," Leah said slowly, "then who's been living my life?"

The question hung in the air.

Aiden's tracker pulsed again. Brighter. Hotter. The name Marcus Webb burned red against his skin.

And beneath it, in smaller letters, a new line of text appeared.

Cause of death: reaper intervention. Fate thread: connected to Margaret Vaughn.

Leah saw it. Her face went white.

"He's connected to my mom," she whispered.

Aiden's blood went cold.

"They all are," Ink said quietly. "Aren't they."

Aiden looked at his wrist. At the eighteen hundred black bars waiting to turn red. At the names that would come. One by one. Every single one of them connected to the woman he'd let live thirty years ago.

The Executioner hadn't just given him a debt.

He'd given him a hit list.

Leah turned to face him. Her eyes were hard. Furious.

"You didn't save her," she said. "You broke the world."