Chapter 3 3

The door of the trailer banged open again. Richard stumbled out, clutching the liability release paper in one hand and a half-empty beer can in the other. He looked emboldened by the alcohol and the distance Seraphina had put between them.

"Hey!" he shouted. He jogged down the wooden steps, his belly shaking under his stained t-shirt.

Seraphina stopped. She didn't turn fully, just angled her head.

"You think you can just walk off?" Richard panted, stopping ten feet away. He waved the paper. "We fed you. We clothed you. You owe us."

The audacity was breathtaking. It was almost impressive in its absolute lack of shame.

"I owe you?" Seraphina asked.

Richard licked his lips. He looked around, making sure the neighbors were watching. He wanted to perform authority. "You got a stash. I know you do. You made tips at that diner. Three hundred dollars. Call it a severance fee. Or I call the cops and tell them you stole Regina's jewelry."

Seraphina reached into the pocket of her jeans. She pulled out a roll of bills. It was exactly three hundred and twelve dollars. Every cent she had to her name.

She looked at the money. It was greasy. It smelled of diner coffee and desperation.

She threw it.

She didn't hand it to him. She tossed it into the air between them. The bills fluttered, caught by the sudden gust of wind that was picking up speed.

Richard scrambled. He dropped his beer can, foam spilling onto the dirt, and dove for the money. He was on his knees, snatching at the bills like a starving animal.

Brenda came out onto the porch. "Richard! Get the twenty over there!"

Raymond, the eldest Grimes son, slouched out of the trailer behind his mother. He was twenty-five, with thinning hair and eyes that were always bloodshot. He saw his father on the ground and laughed, but then he saw Seraphina.

His eyes narrowed. He walked down the steps, cracking his knuckles. He had a debt to a bookie in town. He needed cash too.

"You hold out on us?" Raymond sneered. He walked toward Seraphina, ignoring his father groveling in the dirt.

Seraphina watched him approach. She saw the shadow clinging to his back. A gambler's demon. A parasite of bad luck and poor choices.

"Don't," she said.

Raymond didn't listen. He never listened. He swung his hand, aiming for her shoulder, intending to shove her, to assert dominance.

Seraphina didn't move. She didn't flinch. She just exhaled.

Raymond's hand lunged forward, but his boot caught on a hidden depression in the muddy ground-a twist of fate she had seen coming three seconds ago. He pitched forward, his swing going wild.

He slammed face-first into the air beside her, his wrist twisting awkwardly as he tried to break his fall on the gravel.

Raymond howled. He clutched his hand, staggering back. "What the hell? I tripped!"

"I didn't touch you," Seraphina said calmly.

Richard looked up from the dirt, clutching a fistful of dollars. "You crazy bitch!"

Seraphina stared at the paper in his hand. She focused her intent, a sharp spike of will. Static electricity built up in the dry air between them, snapping audibly.

Richard yelped and dropped the paper as a spark jumped from his fingertip. "It's hot! The money's hot!"

It wasn't, of course. It was just fear and static. But to a guilty mind, everything burns.

"We are done," Seraphina announced. Her voice wasn't loud, but it resonated in the sudden silence. "The debt is paid. The connection is severed. Whatever happens next is your own doing."

A low vibration began to shake the ground. Pebbles danced near Richard's knees.

Mrs. Higgins' dog started barking frantically, pulling at its chain.

"What is that?" Brenda shielded her eyes, looking up. "Is that thunder?"

Seraphina looked toward the horizon. Five black dots were growing larger, cutting through the clouds.

"The karmic bill collector," Seraphina whispered.