“I don’t suppose you’re any closer to proving he’s done anything else?”

“Not yet. I’ll get him, though, Kaylee,” Tod said, and that look was back. His irises were too still, like there was something he didn’t want me to see. And when I realized how badly I wanted to see it, I glanced down and noticed I was playing with the bat again.

My weak laugh sounded nervous, even to my own ears. “I guess I should tell Nash he was right about the bat. It did come in handy.”

Tod leaned forward to catch my gaze, and a blue twist of fear churned in his. “Kaylee, you can’t tell him about Thane. Anyone Thane sees as a threat is in danger. The irony there is that if he killed Nash, or your dad, or whoever, we’d be able to catch him with an unauthorized soul. But it’d be too late for whoever he took.”

A chill ran the entire length of my body. I’d known that, of course, but I hadn’t actually thought it through that far. No one else could know about Thane. No matter what.

“You want me to stay the night, in case he comes back?” Tod asked. I glanced at him in surprise, but he was serious.

“Don’t you have to work?” He was less than two hours into his shift.

“I could ask someone to cover for me.”

I stroked Styx’s fur, but she refused to sleep as long as he was there. “I thought you were out of favors.”

“Yeah, now I’m taking on debt,” he admitted. “But I can handle it.”

“Would Thane be able to see you, if he comes back?”

Tod nodded. “Reapers can’t hide from one another. I can’t, anyway. Maybe if I had more experience…”

“But if he sees you here, he’ll know you know about him, and your investigation will be hosed,” I said. Tod started to argue, but I cut him off. “You have to stay away from him and find proof. I’ll be fine—till Thursday, anyway.”

He nodded again, reluctantly, this time. “I’ll let you know when I find something. Until then…keep sleeping with the bat.”

When Tod left, Styx went back to sleep, like her night had never been interrupted.

I lay awake for another hour and a half, listening to her breathe.

Sabine was waiting by my locker on Monday morning—not the beginning I’d hoped for on the third-from-final day of my life. But honestly, considering my luck, it fit.

“So, how’d it go?” she asked, leaning against the locker next to mine while I entered my combination, and for several seconds, I thought she was talking about the unscheduled appearance of my own personal reaper. Then I remembered she didn’t know about that…

Sabine was talking about me and Nash. He obviously hadn’t told her that our plans had been interrupted. Again.

“I thought we weren’t that kind of friends.” My locker clicked open and I shoved my French text inside, thenpulled out my algebra book.

“We’re not. I just…”

When she hesitated, I glanced up to find her avoiding my gaze. Sabine wouldn’t lie to me—that would violate whatever kind of screwed-up moral standard she subscribed to—but that didn’t mean she necessarily liked the truth.

I sighed and slammed my locker. “We didn’t do it. Happy now?”

The hallway seemed to get a little brighter, and her black eyes actually shined. “More like satisfied. For the moment, anyway. But honestly, I’ll be a lot closer to happy on Friday. Not because you’ll be dead, but because Nash won’t be tied to you anymore.”

I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to smack her. I’d done it once, and that fact seemed to make subsequent urges harder to resist. But giving in would break our truce and probably affect her willingness to help me with Mr. Beck. Also, she’d hit back, and I was less than confident in the local undertaker’s ability to hide a broken nose with pancake makeup.

“Why did you even give me advice, if you don’t want me to sleep with him?”

Sabine frowned, like I made no sense. “It’s like we were born on different planets. Is your world really that black-and-white?”

“What does that even mean? And I don’t have time for one of your speeches right now.”

“It means that even though I’m willing to go through you to get Nash back, I like you, too. That’s a little bit of a conflict for me.”

I slammed my locker shut and faced her directly. “Why do you like me, Sabine?” I couldn’t figure that one out. I would have been perfectly fine with her hating me, so long as that didn’t put me in the direct line of fire from the creepy-vibes she leaked whenever she got mad. Or from her killer right hook.

“I’m not sure.” Sabine tossed long, dark hair over her shoulder and the cartilage piercing in her left ear shined in the overhead lights. “You don’t have any outstanding qualities, other than a gritty determination I can’t help but relate to.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning, you tend to grow on people. Like some kind of persistent fungus.”

It was very clear, however, why I didn’t like her.

“So, you give me vaguely girlfriendly advice about sex, then cross your fingers and hope I don’t have it with Nash. Is that how this plays out in that warped, shriveled little cerebrum of yours?”

She shrugged. “More or less.”

I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was actually “less,” and I knew that if I pressed for details she’d give them to me—along with significant TMI about her former relationship with Nash. But life—especially mine—was too short to waste time picturing her making out with my boyfriend. So I changed the subject.