Blood Mary (2)

Compared to Ma Chen and Charles Cullen… there was no comparison at all. The witch behind Feng Fan made the ghosts who had nearly taken his life seem like helpless infants, fresh from the womb, barely aware of the world.

If she willed it, she could snuff out his existence with nothing more than a flick of her sleeve.

Yet, Feng Fan refused to show even a sliver of fear.

He met his own gaze in the mirror, his lips curling into a relaxed, almost amused smile. As if nothing at all was wrong. As if death itself weren't breathing down his neck.

"Tonight is really beautiful," he mused, voice light, casual. "I can even smell the delicate scent of roses and sunflowers."

A blatant lie.

The only scent in the air was the stench of rot and decay.

Bloody Mary's grin widened, her lips stretching far beyond the limits of human anatomy, splitting her face into a grotesque image.