Chapter 6
It made Lyndsey look innocent, frightened, and sad.
"Three dead," Howard said quietly. "Kaycee, Amy, and Edward. All tied to you. Are you the reaper, or bait?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lyndsey replied, her voice trembling just right. "I'm the victim here, Mr. Wheeler. Go ahead, investigate. I was set up, threatened, and—"
She paused, tears streaming down her face. This wasn't an act. The pain and anger were real, but she was skillfully using them to her advantage.
Howard stared at Lyndsey for a long moment. Then, suddenly, he reached out, his fingertips brushing her cheek as he picked up a strand of hair. It was white, almost blinding in the morning light.
"You're under a lot of stress," he said, his tone meaningful. "Make sure you get some rest."
He turned to leave, his trench coat swirling behind him. At the door, he paused and looked back. "By the way, Edward mentioned you in his confession. He said he was sorry.
"Isn't that interesting? A man about to take his own life, terrified out of his mind, still remembers to apologize to just a student."
The door closed behind him, and his footsteps faded away.
Lyndsey stood frozen, a chill creeping up her spine.
Night emerged from the shadows, his black wings spread wide, wrapping her in darkness.
"He suspects you," Night said, his voice unusually anxious. "This human... His instincts are too sharp. When he looked at you just now, I had to cloud his perception with shadows, or he would've spotted what you're hiding in your backpack—"
But Night never finished his sentence. A violent cough wracked him, cutting him off.
Lyndsey spun around, horror flooding her when she saw Night drop to the ground. Feathers were falling from his black wings in thick, rapid clumps, turning to black ash and vanishing. His body grew so transparent she could see the wardrobe right through his shoulder.
"Night!" Lyndsey cried, rushing over to him. Her hand passed straight through his body, grabbing nothing but icy air. "What's happening to you?"
"Messing with... a human's instincts..." Night gasped with difficulty, his voice barely audible. With every word, he faded even more. "Breaks... the neutrality principle... It's my punishment..."
"Stop! Stop interfering!" Lyndsey cried.
"It's already... begun..." Night looked up, his dark eyes reflecting Lyndsey's panic. To her shock, he managed a faint smile. "So, you actually care about me..."
His body started to disintegrate, beginning at his toes, dissolving into black motes of light.
Lyndsey frantically searched her backpack, pulling out the death note. "How do I save you? Should I write your name? Give you my life years? Tell me, please!"
"It's useless..." Night's voice echoed from somewhere far away. "A reaper... doesn't need a lifespan..."
Lyndsey stopped. She stared at the notebook, then suddenly tore out a blank page and quickly scribbled: [Howard Wheeler. Forget any suspicion he has toward Lyndsey. Focus on finding evidence of Richard's crimes.]
"Will this help? Will it shift Howard's attention?" Lyndsey asked.
Night's body stopped disintegrating, but he was still so weak he could disappear at any moment. He looked at Lyndsey, his expression conflicted.
He answered, "For now, it'll work. But Lyndsey, you can't kill anyone else. At least not right now. Karma's building up..."
"I know," Lyndsey whispered. She pulled out a piece of orange candy from her pocket, bought that morning. "This is for you."
Night paused. He stared at the candy, reached out, but his ghostly fingers slipped through the wrapper.
"I can't taste it," he said. "Reapers can't taste anything."
"Hold it then," Lyndsey said, placing the candy in his palm. Even though her hand passed right through his, she stubbornly kept it there. "Treat it like a decoration."
Night stared at the candy, then suddenly closed his fist. To Lyndsey's surprise, the candy stayed put. He used some kind of power to make himself real for a moment and held onto it.
"Is it sweet?" Lyndsey asked after he ate it.
"It's sour," Night said, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. "But I like it."
Outside, sunlight poured in. But out of sight, Howard sat in his police car, scribbling in his notebook: [Lyndsey Duncan. Innocent? Or guilty? I need to unmask her.]
*****
Those who once bullied Lyndsey were all haunted by nightmares.
Kirsten Harper had flipped every mirror in her dorm room face down, convinced she saw Kaycee standing right behind her in the reflection.
Hilda Armstrong had dropped out of school, claiming she'd seen Amy's ghost sitting at a computer in the library, posting online.
The rest of the bullies huddled together for comfort, plastering their dorm door with protective talismans, hanging crosses above their beds, and even wearing good luck charms.
But none of it helped. Fear grew in the air like mold.
"It's her," Kirsten whispered into the phone at three in the morning. "It has to be Lyndsey. She's back, and she's not the same anymore. Did you see her face? That birthmark is gone. She's like someone else now."
"We have to strike first," Hilda said, her voice trembling on the other end of the call. "Kaycee's cousin is the school dean, Richard Synder's bodyguard. He said he could help us, make it look like an accident. Nobody would care if a nobody like Lyndsey died."