Fatal Sight (Harbingers Of Death Book 2) LeAnn Mason (animal farm read .txt) 📖

you to rest. Try not to speak. We’ll bring you some ice to suck on later, which will help soothe the ache you’re probably feeling in your throat. But for now, you’ve had enough water.” She winked and left the room.

She could say that again.

I unfolded the paper and read the few words jotted down:

New assignment coming soon from the director. Thanks for being my first. (Banshee, that is). Good luck, Screamer.

“Swell,” I said darkly, unable to appreciate my wave pun.

No way in hell was I staying with the Water Unit, but I wanted to decide that. Constant rejection was really getting old. And so was being in various hospital wards.

If, as Stone said, I was such a precious commodity, I’d think the director would encourage teams to be a tad more careful with the cargo. Didn’t Seke say I was highly desired by all the units who’d been lacking my coveted skills?

Then again, it was becoming crystal clear that screaming wasn’t always useful. Underwater was like putting a cork in my powers. No-go as far as self-preservation.

On the other hand, if I could grow gills, I might consider moving underwater to keep from screaming again. That would at least cut out the need to hunt down some elusive Druid who may or may not be able to “bind” my banshee abilities again. If Raven had known about that trick, she’d probably have held my head in our cell toilet instead of asphyxiating me with a pillow.

My next assignment had better treat me with even just a smidgen of respect and let me keep two feet on solid ground, or so help me…

I floundered there, at a loss of what ultimatum I could possibly use as a threat. Perhaps walking away? Quitting?

Seke had done all he could to discourage me from leaving. For Seke, I gave it a chance.

My jaw clenched when I thought of the god while emotions roiled as unsteadily as the churning sea on which that boat had rocked. My stomach reacted in a similar way as it had on that ship, threatening to expel more of whatever swirled within… probably briny water.

Fuck this.

This mysterious “director” could shove it. He — or she — wasn’t here and seemed fine with bouncing me around the world. So maybe I’d just bounce. I’d get to pick my next destination, my length of stay, even who I associated with.

Man, that sounds like heaven right about now.

It was ironic since, before meeting the HDPU, I’d wanted nothing less than to keep wandering aimlessly alone. Now, I’d take that freedom — without baggage — like a drowning man reaching for oxygen.

Okay, bad metaphor.

Now, where was that nurse? It was time to check myself out. No way I’d wait around for the next mystery assignment that would toss me, unprepared, to the wolves.

Huh. Are werewolves real too? That could be hot… Unless they’re like hellhounds.

“Nope. No. Doesn’t matter. I’m out.” Each word strained my throat, but I was too pissed to care.

Done. Over. Crumpling the paper, I chucked it toward a trash can, missing by a mile. Bitter didn’t even begin to describe my current feeling.

New mission.My mission. Not one assigned to the Harbingers of Death.

The target? That elusive supe who gave me this tat. I’d find her and get her to put a cap on this screaming thing, stat. That’s all that mattered. Normal human life was sounding pretty good right about now.

“Screw the Harbingers,” I asserted aloud, my voice crackling horribly.

“That’s unfair.”

“You haven’t even met us yet.”

I nearly peed the bed when my eyes alighted on a tall figure in a dark cloak in the room, a glint from his very sharp scythe catching my attention. He hadn’t been there a second ago, and the door had definitely not opened.

“Oh, good. Is it my turn to go?” I asked the grim reaper sardonically, not as fearful of demise as I should be. After facing down my own death twice within the last week, I was sitting at an unhealthy level on the jaded scale. If he was here to take me to Hell, that could wrap up my elemental tour nicely by providing the fire.

A cackle pulled my eye past the ominous figure to a pair of ghostly twins in traditional Japanese attire with many layers of silk wrapped around them, secured with thick belts, their clawed feet bare and floating just above the ground. Their smiles were eerily wide, their appearance somewhat goblin-like. Shinigami. Mom had described them to me in bedtime stories that I’d confirmed in the bunker’s library.

“We hope not,” said one.

“You just got here,” finished the other.

“Right. I’ll assume the director sent you?”

“Correct.”

“You are to join us.”

I nodded vaguely, but it was impossible to keep my focus on the Japanese spirits of death with the reaper looming ominously over me. “Dude,” I said to him, “if you’re not here for my soul, can you give a girl some space?”

I blinked, and he was gone.

Scanning the room, I felt very uneasy. It was just me and the eerie twins of death, who were translucent yet different than the souls I’d seen Seke escort. “Did he just… disappear?” My gaze flitted around the shadows of the small room as my fingers worried at my lip ring, a habit I was glad to have the jewelry back to perform.

“He visits elsewhere,” said the first twin.

“He will return,” said the second.

I nodded. At least, he wasn’t just invisible. I was not cool with the dude staring at me without my knowledge. “Right… Well, I’ll just be going.”

Flinging off the bedsheet, I gaped at my non-attire. Crap. My clothes were at the bottom of the ocean. What I was in now could only be described as “open-air”. I hunted the call button and prodded it several times.

The nurse opened the door, not once looking at the twins, who didn’t disappear. They just watched silently. I eyed them askance, fingers still nervously caressing my various accouterments again as I asked to borrow some