Libby nodded briefly, then turned and walked away, headed toward a hallway identical to the one we’d followed to the stage.

We hesitated, glancing at one another in question. Then Tod shrugged and hurried after her. We actually had to jog to keep up as her boots moved silently but quickly over the floor.

“You breathe it in, deep into your lungs.” Her rich accent spoke of dead languages, of cultures long ago lost to the ravages of time and fickle memory. Her voice was low and gruff. Aged. Powerful. It sent shivers through me, as if I were hearing something I shouldn’t be able to. Something no one else had heard in centuries. “It fills you. It burns like frostbite, as if the Breath will consume your insides. Feed on them. But that is good. If the burning stops, you have held it too long. Demon’s Breath will kill your soul.”

The shivers grew until I noticed my hands trembling. I took Nash’s in my left, and shoved the right into my pocket.

A couple of technicians passed us carrying equipment, and Tod waited until they were gone to pose his next question. “How long do you have?” He paced beside the female reaper now. Nash and I were content to trail behind, just close enough to hear.

“An hour.” Her lips moved in profile against the white wall as she turned to half face him. “Any longer, and you risk much.”

“What do you do with it?” I asked—I couldn’t help it—and Libby froze in midstep. She pivoted slowly to look at me, and I saw time in her eyes. Years of life and death, and existence without end. The shivers in my hands became tremors echoing the length of my body.

I should not have drawn her attention.

“Who is this?” Libby faced Tod again.

“A friend. My brother’s girlfriend.” He nodded toward Nash, who stood tall beneath her hair-curling, nerve-crunching scrutiny. Then Libby whirled on one booted heel and marched on.

Cool relief sifted through me, and only then did I realize Tod hadn’t given her either of our names. Nash had practically beaten that precaution into him; it was never wise to give your name to Death’s emissaries. Though, if a reaper wanted to know your name, it was easy enough to find, especially in today’s world. Which is why it was also unwise to catch a reaper’s attention.

Sirens warbled outside the stadium then, and another gaggle of official-looking people rushed down the hall toward the stage, but Libby didn’t seem to notice them. “There are places for proper disposal of Demon’s Breath. In the Nether,” she added, as if there were any question about that.

“If a reaper wanted to get into that—collecting Demon’s Breath instead of souls—how might he get started?” Tod asked as we followed Libby around a sharp white corner, her feet silent on the slick linoleum.

“By surviving the next thousand years.” Her accent grew sharper, her words thick with warning. “If you still live then, find me. I will show you. But do not try italone. Fools suffer miserable deaths, boy.”

“I won’t,” Tod assured her. “But it was awesome to watch.”

Libby stopped, eyeing him with a strange expression caught on her features, as if she didn’t quite know what she intended to say until the words came out. “You may watch again. I will return in five days.”

“For more Demon’s Breath?” I asked, and again her creepy green gaze slid my way, seeming to burn through my eyes and into my brain.

“Of course. The other fool will release hers on Thursday.”

“What other fool?” Tod demanded through clenched teeth, and I glanced at him, surprised by his sharp tone. His brows were furrowed, his beautiful lips thinned by dread.

“Addison Page. The singer,” Libby said, like it should have been obvious.

Tod actually stumbled backward, and Nash put a hand on his shoulder, but it went right through him. For a moment, I was afraid he’d fall through the featureless white wall. “Addy sold her soul?” Tod rubbed one hand across his own nearly transparent forehead. “Are you sure?”

Libby raised her brows, as if to ask if he were serious.

“When?”

“That is not my concern.” The reaper slid her slim, dark hands into the pockets of her coat, watching Tod with disdain now, as if her hunch that he wasn’t yet ready to collect Demon’s Breath had just been confirmed. “Mine is to gather what I come for and dispose of it properly. Time marches on, boy, and so must I.”

“Wait!” Tod grabbed her arm, and I wasn’t sure who was more surprised—Libby or Nash. But Tod rushed on as if he hadn’t noticed. “Addy’s going to die?”

Libby nodded, then disappeared without so much as a wink to warn us. She was just suddenly gone, yet her voice remained for a moment longer, an echo of her very existence.

“She will release the Demon’s Breath by taking her own life. And I shall be there to claim it.”

3

“ADDY SOLD HER SOUL.” Tod’s voice sounded odd. Distant. I think he was in shock. Or maybe that was just an echo from the empty hallway.

If a voice isn’t audible in the human range of hearing, can it echo?

“Um, yeah. Sounds like it,” I said. The very thought sent chills through me, and I rubbed my arms through my sleeves, trying to get rid of the goose bumps.

“She’s gonna kill herself.” Tod’s eyes were wide with panic and horror. I’d never seen him scared, and I didn’t like how fear pressed his lips into a tense, thin line and wrinkled his forehead. “We have to stop her. Warn her, or something.” Tod took off down the hall, and Nash and I ran after him. If we didn’t keep up, he’d disappear through a wall or something, and we’d never find him. At least, not in time to finish arguing with him.