Chapter 1

After months of hunting down cheaters and gold-diggers, after losing my mother and watching as my sister grew extraordinary abilities, I’m finally in a therapist’s office.

It’s clean and welcoming, and the therapist is friendly. “Mr. Wilson, come in and have a seat,” he says, his legs crossed against his plush armchair. I do as he says, wondering how I haven’t ended up here before. It would be nice to have someone to talk to—the only person who knows about my powers is my sister Kim.

But as I look at the black heart floating above the therapist’s head, I remind myself that I’m not really here for therapy. I’m here because duty calls.

I walk into the office carrying a folder and take a seat across from the therapist. “Hey, how’s it going, Doc?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are things on your end?”

I sigh. “It’s not going so well. My life gets more chaotic as the days go past.” If you only knew.

“Well, like I said in our last session, it takes time to adjust to having a newborn baby, a new job, and new responsibilities. I imagine this is hard for your wife, too. Is she coping well?”

Kid, wife—that must be the life of this miserable guy I’ve switched bodies with. There’s no point in speaking about things I know nothing about. Seems like a good time to speak about my own personal life. “I will admit my new job is stressful, with the constant hunting and killing. Actually, my sister is stressing me out more than that. I know my life is in danger while I’m hunting, but humans are predictable. They run and scream, and some fight back to no avail. Now, my sister—I can’t predict her. She can snap at any second. Like yesterday: we were sitting and talking, but then she just transformed and tried to bite me.”

The therapist gives me a tight grin. I know he doesn’t believe me, which is what makes telling him the truth even more fun. “These delusions of hunting you have,” he replies, “do you think they might have something to do with your lack of control over your own life, Mr. Wilson?”

I lean forward in my chair. “Actually, doc, I think it’s time that I tell you that I’m not really Mr. Wilson.”

“No? Then who am I speaking with right now?”

“Well, I like to call myself the King of Hearts. I know it’s corny. I’ll probably change that later. If that doesn’t roll off of your tongue easily, just call me Nate.”

“Well, Nate, why don’t we talk about why you’re using the name ‘Mr. Wilson’? Is there a part of the real you that you are having trouble connecting with?”

I choke out a laugh. “Actually, doc, I’ve never felt more alive. See, about four months ago, I was chosen by the deity of love to do her bidding. She gave me powers you wouldn’t believe: the strength of a hundred men, the speed of a cheetah, the ability to swap bodies with others. But that’s not the part you’re going to be interested in.” I smile at his confused expression. I bet he’s never had a patient quite like me before. “This deity gave me the power to find the cheaters and gold-diggers of the world by making skin-to-skin contact with random people. That’s actually how I found you. You bumped into me at Hot Chef Top Eatery last week with someone who wasn’t your wife.”

The therapist swallows. “That’s an interesting story, Mr. Wilson. I feel like some type of traumatic event has happened in your life recently and your mind is creating these delusions to cope. I can assure you that I’ve never been to that restaurant before, and the only woman in my life is my wife. And we are happily married. Now, no matter how interesting your story is and how curious I am to find out more, unfortunately, your session is over for the day.” He gets up from his chair and opens the door.

“Over!” I mock-gasp. “I feel like I just got here! Doesn’t matter. It feels good to get all that off my chest. I feel as free as a spirit leaving a body. The only person who knows about my secret is my sister. I must say you’ve earned your paycheck for today, but now it’s time to do my job.” I grab my folder off the floor and get up to hand it to him. “You might want to take a look at these.”

He snatches the photos out of my hand and begins looking through them.

“Okay, now tell me if you recognize the guy in these photos, and also tell me if that’s his wife in all those photos.”

“I don’t know who these people are, but like I said before, this session is over for today.” He tries to hand me the photos.

I push his hand back. “You can keep those. I have copies. How about you close that door and come have a seat with me? Let’s talk business.”

He closes the door. I sit down in the chair and he sits in front of me. “Did some type of traumatic event happen in your life recently? I ask because it’s bizarre that you can’t seem to recognize yourself in these photos. It must be your brain trying to cope with cheating.”

“Who are you?” he demands.

“I already told you. That’s what’s wrong with you doctors nowadays: you don’t listen. You’re asking the wrong questions. You should be asking me what happens when I catch a cheater.”

He glares at me. “I already know where this is going. Obviously, it’s money you’re looking for. How much do I have to give you to make this go away?”

I laugh. “I don’t want your money. I hit the lottery recently and won over eight hundred million dollars. What I want is simple. I want you to become a symbol. When people see you, I want them to tremble at the thought of cheating.”

“So, how do I become this symbol you want me to be?”

“That’s easy. Just give me a pen,” I say with a smile.

“Sure.” He takes a pen out of his shirt pocket and hands it to me.

Before he can react, I lunge forward and thrust the pen into his eye socket, feeling it hit bone. His death isn’t instantaneous like I planned, giving him a chance to make a quick cry out in pain. I quickly cover his mouth with my hand, and clear, colorless fluid with traces of blood drip from his eye onto it. With little effort I twist his neck, snapping it. His body drops to the ground, and I shake the unwanted fluid off of my hand. I really need to start wearing gloves. I bend down and use his shirt as a rag to get the rest off. Finally, I take the pictures of him cheating and scatter them all around him.

“Now you’re a symbol.” I close the door behind me.

I wave goodbye to the receptionist, then exit the building. Once I’m in an alley a couple blocks away, I change back into my own body. My cell phone begins to ring. “Hello?” I answer.

“I see you’ve completed your mission,” a woman says.

“Yeah, Kim. Glad you noticed. I’m walking to my car now to head home. Which you can see, obviously. You know, this power you have to be able to track and see people is a little uncomfortable. I feel like you’re always watching me. You can release that guy Wilson now, by the way. We don’t need him anymore.”

“You don’t need him anymore, but I do.”

“What? Why?”

“To curb my appetite.”

“Kim you need to power down now. You’re losing control.”

“It’s too late!”

“Kim? Kim! You better not eat that guy! Hello?” I look at my phone. The call has ended. Damn it, Kim. I lean on my car and put my head down in disappointment. Looks like I’ll be walking straight into a lion’s den when I get home.

Suddenly, a hand runs across my neck. “You’re going to regret that,” I growl as I turn around, but then my irritation turns into glee. Just when I thought my day was taking a turn for the worse, a miracle has happened.

“Long time no see, stranger!” squeals a girl with strawberry blonde hair and a mini dress.

Elijah. The girl I went on a failure of a date with months ago, who lied and told me it was her birthday and ordered every expensive dish on the menu. If anyone deserves vengeance, it’s her.

“Long time, didn’t particularly want to see,” I reply, lightly pushing her off me.

“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t really thinking straight. My grandpa was sick and I was just under a lot of stress.”

As she continues to explain herself, a black heart appears above her head. Karma at its finest. That black heart means she has done something to someone within the past twenty-four hours that meets my killing guidelines. Probably got a boyfriend and cheated, or tugged at someone’s heartstrings for her own benefit. Neither would surprise me. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I get to take my revenge.

“So, you’re doing good for yourself,” she says as she walks around my car, admiring it.

“Yeah, I hit the lotto, so I’m pretty wealthy.”

“That’s awesome! I’m happy for you. What are you doing tonight? Maybe you can take me out on your yacht! Oh, or bring me to your big fancy house! Or maybe we could go to a nice restaurant and eat. You know…to catch up.”

Much as I’d like to get this over...