Reapers -- The First Familiar (Reapers Chronicles Book II)

The faint scent of ozone clung to the air, a familiar prelude to the chaos that usually followed. Aramis adjusted the old leather satchel slung over her shoulder, the familiar weight of her sketchpad and charcoal pencils a small comfort against the prickling unease that always settled in her gut before a hunt. The city lights of Ashland twinkled in the distance, a deceptive blanket of normalcy over the growing darkness.

Tonight, the moon was a sliver, barely piercing the thick cloud cover, casting long, distorted shadows that danced with her own. She hugged her worn jacket tighter, the chill seeping deeper than just her bones. It was a cold that spoke of something ancient, something that had been waiting for a very long time.

A flicker of movement caught her eye—a shadow too quick, too fluid to be human. Her hand instinctively went to the small, teardrop-shaped pendant hidden beneath her shirt. The Helcium. Its cool surface was a constant reminder of the fragile shield that separated her from the things that hunted in the night.

Another gust of wind, carrying with it the metallic tang of something foul, made her stomach clench. It was getting worse. The veil between worlds, already thin, was tearing, allowing more of the unspeakable to bleed through. And with every breach, a part of her wondered if Vincent was still out there, if he was even still alive, trapped in the nightmare she couldn't reach.