Crimes of Cupidity (Heart Hassle Book 3)
Crimes of Cupidity: Epilogue

BELREN

There’s nothing.

There is a grimy whiteness all around, that is neither light nor shadowed, cool nor warm. There is no land, or water, or air. I have no body. No sense of touch. No recollection of what came before or if anything is coming after.

But there is one thing in the nothing.

One single, solitary thing that I remember.

Her.

Red wings, serious face, pink hair pulled back tight.

I have no idea who she was. But I remember her in this nothingness.

I don’t know how long I’m stuck in this strange existence. Maybe seconds. Maybe decades. Maybe I’m not here at all, and this is all a dream. But then suddenly, the nothingness shifts. And then I feel a pull.

I’m yanked of out this ether of nothing, and the next thing I know, I blink into being.

Confused and shaking, I look down, realizing that I can look, and see a body. My body. I raise my silver hands in front of my face, and then carefully touch my cheeks. Except I don’t feel a thing.

My fingers go through me, and I pull them back to study them again, and realize that they’re slightly see-through.

“What…”

My voice sounds hoarse and loud, and not familiar at all.

Who am I?

Where am I?

“Next!”

My head snaps up, and I blink at the sight before me. I’m in a large room, and there are lots of other…translucent bodies around me.

All shapes, sizes, colors, sexes, and I can’t be sure if I recognize any of them or not, because I don’t even recognize myself.

“Next!” The voice calls out again, sounding irritated.

I look ahead again, only to realize that I’m actually standing in line. Based on the winged female sitting at the desk and glaring at me, I’d say that I’m next, and I’m wasting her time.

I step forward, only to realize that this translucent body doesn’t actually step. It takes some finagling, but I manage to float forward until I’m standing before her.

“You’re here to be processed.”

I blanche. “What? What does that mean?”

She points to the brochures that are presented on her desk. One of them has an angel on it with the slogan, “Were you good in life? Well now you can be great!”

My eyes dart to the next brochure over, and I see a picture of a black-winged demon with the words, “Like it sizzling hot? Come down under for a good time!” When I lean in closer, I read the fine print that says, *Some torturing may apply* underneath.

I frown and look back up at the female. “What is this?”

Sighing, she gives me a look that says she’s been asked to explain this far too many times for her liking. And, judging by the length of the line behind me, I suppose she has.

“Welcome to the afterlife,” she drawls. “Time to pick your new job.”

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