“Sorry, I’m really, really sorry!”

  Rafe bent over, coughing as if trying to hack out a whole lung, while swatting the air in my direction like shooing away flies.

  Frankly, Rafe had every reason to slap me—just imagining the pain of being choked by hard liquor made me wince. The sky had already gone dark. This was a small alley not far from my home, and I had never been here after dark. But with Rafe leaning against the wall coughing, reeking of alcohol, he looked no different from a drunk throwing up in the corner.

  I glanced at the sports bar with its red neon sign and fiddled with a few coins in my hand, intending to call an Uber on my phone.

  “No need... I need to let someone know I’m back first.” Rafe caught his breath, wiped his mouth with his filthy shirt hem, and held out his hand to me. “If I disappear too long, she’ll go looking for me at the last place I showed up.”

  I really didn’t want to hand over my phone to a hand that had just touched vomit and God knows what else.

  “That’s your house,” Rafe said, nearly jabbing his finger under my chin. “You don’t want a Hunter opening a Path in your home. Some people’s Paths are... complicated.”

  After weighing our conditions and combat capabilities, I passed my phone to Rafe and watched him text a string of unfamiliar numbers to another unfamiliar number, ending with a single word—Tuesday. That must’ve been the other person’s name.

  It was absurd, but made a strange kind of sense. Rafe and I walked side by side down the road, dressed like this with Halloween still a month and a half away—drawing curious stares from every passerby. Just as my anxiety about someone calling the cops peaked, Otto came running toward me, tail wagging.

  “I’m so sorry! I promise I won’t treat you like that again.” I crouched down and extended my hand to the little dog—if Otto bit me, I would’ve deserved it.

  But the puppy just stared at me with watery eyes for a while, then jumped into my arms as always, rubbing his big head against me and wagging his tail excitedly.

  A blur shot past and landed near me. Rafe caught it midair and handed it over—it was one of my coats. A familiar scent mixed with dog smell hit my nose, and I looked up, stunned.

  “Ha... Looks like you two got along well. So, what did you gain?”

  The source of the scent leaned in, a hand covered in rings waving in front of my face. “Scared? First-time Hunters always feel uncomfortable after opening a Path. If you’re experiencing symptoms, I can recommend a good doctor.”

  This was the stranger who’d shown up in my home, the helper Rafe had brought in. She also possessed a Skill and a Path. In essence, she was no different from Hoffman or the old man who’d tried to kill me.

  “Thank you.” I extended my hand to Tuesday. “You probably already know all about me. Nice to meet you.”

  Tuesday seemed a little surprised, hesitated, then gently shook my hand. As soon as we touched, I instinctively tried to activate the Path inside me—and was hit with a sudden urge to kiss her.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  So that’s what Tuesday’s Path was. Put the two of us together and we’d be a hit with the teen crowd at any party. I almost laughed.

  But what did she mean by “symptoms”? Compared to a near-self-harming Path, were there even worse aftereffects worth seeing a doctor for? I buttoned my coat and followed them in silence—sometimes comforted by the dog, sometimes tormented by chaotic doubts—growing more irritable with fatigue.

  That irritation hit its peak when Tuesday pulled out a key and opened my front door—Hoffman’s Skill was practically designed for killing. I had no idea how I’d survived him.

  All it would take was a thought, and I could deform or detach parts of the two people just a step away from me. Like kneading clay—everything happened in my mind, only a thought away...

  Otto’s soft, wet tongue licked my hand. I snapped out of it and, once inside, locked the door. Then I reached under the doormat and took out a piece of paper.

  I knew Rafe was watching and didn’t plan to hide anything. I held the side with writing up to his face. Tuesday, not far from us, was casually chugging juice straight from a big bottle she’d pulled from the fridge.

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “You’ll have to understand, I put some little things in the house. This is a registry. Anyone who enters will have their name and time recorded.” I had memorized the names of three people. “Wanna guess what I’ll do now that I know yours?”

  Rafe’s expression darkened, like he was no longer facing an exhausted woman on the verge of collapsing.

  “Let me explain. Please.” Rafe forced a friendly smile that looked utterly ridiculous. I couldn’t help but curl my lips. “I’m a headhunter. Our job is to find potential in new Hunters, review them, and recommend them to a big Clade. You can ask around—I’ve got a great reputation. Signed with the Ainsworth Clade two months ago. Want to see the contract?”

  “Sounds like a pimp,” I said. “But I don’t have the energy to care whether it’s true or not right now.” I activated Hoffman’s Skill. Three fingers dropped to the floor with a dull thud-thud-thud on the wood.

  “I’m going to sleep. I’ll reattach your fingers when I wake up.”

  The three severed fingers had clean, smooth edges. The cuts on the muscle and blood vessels throbbed rhythmically like they were breathing. I controlled the fingers, lifting them into my hand, and picked out the one that clearly belonged to a woman.

  “Tuesday, I’ll put yours back on.”

  Just like working with clay. Holding the two twitching thumbs, I gave Otto a kiss on the head.

  “I’m going to bed. Wake me up in twelve hours. I’ll put your fingers back on then—keep the wounds clean in the meantime, just to be safe.”

  I was in worse shape than I thought. The moment my butt touched the bed, it was like someone had pulled my plug—I lost consciousness completely. I didn’t even know whether I lay down or not.