Reaper's Novice (Soul Collector #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Lucy’s. “Look at this, Ana.”
    I shift to face her, and smile. I’ll have enough time to freak out in the privacy of my room. My family shouldn’t be here, but they are here. To me, that’s a miracle.
    Lucy hands me a paper, grinning shyly. Light brown eyes framed by eyelashes so thick and long stare up at me, hopeful. My heart tugs. It’s so Lucy. I slip my arm around her shoulders and, for the hundredth time, fight the urge to crush her in my arms. I look at the sketch. Two names are scrawled on top of each stick-like figure: Lucy and Leo, a boy in her class she insists she’s in love with.
    “Lu! Not your boyfriend again,” Anton muffles around the food in his mouth. I narrow my eyes at him. He rolls his eyes, chewing vigorously, then swallows and scoops another spoonful. “It’s annoying is all I’m saying. Leo this. Leo that. Blah, blah, blah.”
    Lucy takes a deep breath, as if inhaling all the air in the room, her tiny chest expanding. “Then stuff your ears with—” She halts abruptly and seems to struggle to come up with a good enough insult. “With your dirty socks.” She juts her chin and folds her arms across her chest, eyes swimming in tears. Anton, looking neither insulted nor bothered, shrugs and scrapes his plate with his fork.
    I bite my lip to keep from laughing. At least this is one thing that hasn’t changed after their souls returned.
     “How’s Rosa? Seen her lately?” At the reference of the girl he was obsessed with two years ago, Anton jerks his head up and glares at me. His hazel eyes scream murder. The effect is spoiled by full, dark lashes. Definitely a heartbreaker, in a few years when he’s all filled out.
    He turns back to his plate, mumbles something close to an apology, and crams his mouth with another helping. This seems to mollify Lucy. A grin splits her face in two, and displays an impressive gap from missing upper teeth.
    Unable to resist, I mess up Anton’s fro-hawk. He scoots away, scowling. I chuckle, then turn to look down at the daisy chain tattoos on my fingers and hands. This is how we are connected to one another. The scars born from fights and sadness that haunted our family for the last two years are already healed and gone, unlike the scars hidden beneath these flowers on my skin, which I’m probably stuck with forever.
    I shudder, rubbing my arms to banish the chill slithering down my spine and body.
    “Are you all right, Ana?”
    I look up and lock gazes with Mom. How the hell could she notice what’s happening around her, yet seem completely absorbed in Dad?
    But then, that’s Mom. She has this gift to sense when something’s wrong. Sometimes her intuitiveness scares me to death. Like now. I wonder if all mothers are wired this way. Sensing things their children try to hide, even in the middle of life’s turbulence or love-struckness.
    Mom’s eyebrows dip, and I realise I haven’t answered her. I nod a little too vigorously. “Yes, Mom.” I avert my eyes, pretending to focus on my meal. Mom’s eyes are hot coals on my face, scorching and tracing every angle. I can taste the worry pouring off her.
    If I were to tell them what happened today… I try to picture their reaction and fail miserably. What happened is out of this world. Mom would freak… then freak again. The result? Apocalyptic meltdown.
     “Don’t lie to me, Silvana Maria.” I cringe at Mom’s tone, a warning I should flee the room and scurry for safety.
    My head shoots up in time to see her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She springs to her feet and rushes towards me, a pinched look on her face. Before I can protest, my fork is snatched from my fingers. Her startling blue eyes flash like lightning, quick and intense as they dart over my face. “You look fevered. Doesn’t she look fevered, Peter? Liebling ?” she asks, calling Dad the endearment I hadn’t heard pass through her lips in a long time. Darling ..
    “Oh, she looks fine, Katya. Stop fretting.” Dad