Page 178 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

She held up one tattooed arm where tiny violet blossoms climbed over pale skin like they'd rooted themselves beneath her veins.

"I've always liked things that survive in shade."

That answer made entirely too much sense.

"What about birds?" she asked.

"Ravens."

She laughed softly.

"I knew it."

"Everyone assumes it's because they're intelligent."

"Aren't they?"

"That's the boring answer."

She folded her arms, genuinely interested.

"So, what's the real one?"

I watched three ravens circling above one of the cathedral spires.

"They're honest."

She stayed quiet.

"They don't pretend to be doves," I continued. "They don't sing pretty songs hoping everyone applauds. They don't apologize for eating carrion. They wait. They watch. They survive. The world tells them they're ugly and they continue existing anyway."

Persephone stared at me for several long seconds before throwing her head back and laughing. Not politely. Not quietly. She laughed with her entire body. Two businessmen walking past looked horrified. I considered that an excellent sign.

"I knew we'd be friends," she said, wiping a tear from beneath one violet eye.

"How?"

"You answered like someone who's accidentally buried a body before."

"I've only buried pets."

"So far."

"So far," I agreed.

By late afternoon she insisted I come home with her.

"I have something to show you."

"You sound like every horror movie villain."

"I know."

"Perfect."

Her house sat far above the city on the highest ridge, hidden behind towering wrought-iron gates wrapped in black climbing roses. Calling it a house felt almost insulting.

It was a castle. Not one of those cheerful fairytale castles with singing birds and happy princesses.