The Reaper and the Cop (2 page)

Shit
.

Throwing some bills onto the bar, I grabbed my pack and beat a hasty retreat out the door. Following the cops to get to the bodies was one thing. Following cops who could see me, and the methods I used to strip the souls from their bodies, was different. The fact that I had zero makeup on and my hair was a mess was absolutely coincidental.

Honest.

***

“So what did tall, dark and furry have to say?”

His partner looked up as Troy Regan slid into place, and slid a fresh coffee in his direction. Troy nodded his thanks, picked up the mug of blessed java, and inhaled the steam with a sigh of relief. God, it had been a long-ass day. An emergency call had meant he and John had been on their feet since before six this morning. So right about now, a long shower and his pillow were calling his name.

“Nothing much.” Troy reached over, snagged a fry, and stuffed it into his mouth with an irreverence that made John glare. “Usual crap about seeing nothing and doing nothing.”

“Yeah, because he’s purer than the driven snow.” John picked up the burger, rotating it in large hands as he picked the optimum place to take the first bite. John Johnson loved food, good food, with a passion that surpassed all else. Troy considered pinching the slice of tomato that peeked out from under the bun, but decided that the pissy attitude that was sure to follow wasn’t worth it.

His lips quirked into a smile. “Can’t arrest him just for being an asshole, more’s the pity.”

John snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Troy leaned back, arms spread over the back of the bench seat. A small sigh escaped his lips as he looked around the bar. Crammed to the rafters with cops, it was like an extension of the station. Most officers stopped in here on the way to work, to grab a coffee and a pastry, and they almost always dropped in after, either to eat or decompress with a stiff drink. The tales this place would tell, if it could talk. Which had made it all the more surprising to find a Lycan back there in the john. Stupid mutt should check out his watering hole better. Dumb fuck for a human or a para if he couldn’t spot a cop at twenty paces.

That was the trouble right there though, wasn’t it? The paranormals who’d infested good old Liberty, Oakwood, weren’t all dumb. And there were a shit-load of them. Up until a year ago, creatures that went bump in the night had been where they belonged, in fairy-tales and kids stories. Then something had happened, and Liberty had become ground-zero for every creepy thing out there.

And no one had any clue why.

His gaze wandered around the room, clocking the familiar faces. At least tonight was quiet, so far. He frowned, something tugged at his mind to get his attention, and he looked back. There at the bar was a face he hadn’t seen before, attached to a body he instantly wanted to see a lot more of. Small and curvy, she sat on a stool, drink in her hand. His lips wanted to curve up into a smile. She was so tiny her feet didn’t touch the floor.

He did smile when she looked at him, drinking in everything about her. She wore bike leathers and heavy boots—even though his mind kept trying to tell him that she was wearing a conservative business suit. Long, dark hair was pulled up into a scruffy ponytail instead of the sleek pleat his eyes wanted to see. Her face was both devoid of and wearing subtle makeup that enhanced her features at the same time. Like he was seeing two versions of the woman, one over the other.

Paranormal. His mind formed the word as her eyes widened. Some sort of fog shrouded her for a second as she put her glass down, dropping notes on the bar in a hurry before grabbing her pack and making a break for the door.

Fuck no, sweetheart, you don’t get away from me that easy
.

“Heads up, John.” Troy was out from the table in the blink of an eye. “We got a new para on the run.”

“I knew it. I fucking knew it.” John’s voice sounded mournful behind him, but Troy was already moving. He had no clue what the cutie at the bar had been, but one thing was for sure, she was no match for the Lycan that had just left. Fear stabbed its icy shards deep into his heart, and he almost stumbled into a guy heading across to one of the tables by the window.

“Hey, watch your step or you’ll be wearing coffee!”

“Sorry man, places to be.” Troy wound his way through the bar and hit the door at something approaching a run. He’d seen how big Lycans were when they shifted…and the damage they were capable of. Especially to small, cute as hell, pixie women.

Shit, was that it? Was she a pixie? He’d never seen one before, but he knew that they existed. When the shit had hit the fan last year, the Captain had located a witch. She’d given them a heads-up on weird shit like that. The stories and the books that she had…Christ, it was enough to give any sane man nightmares…but in the middle of the horrors, there were creatures that sounded so beautiful and wondrous that they suited the descriptor of fairy-tales.

Pixies were one of them. The women at least. The men were supposed to be big, mean assholes who’d fight anything at the drop of a hat. They ran in packs like gangs, and were into tattoos and piercings. Might made right, that was their motto. But the women—the stories said that they were so beautiful they used magic to make themselves appear human. Like a reverse peacock or something. Was it peacocks? He didn’t know. What he did know was that one out there was about to run into a damn nasty dog, and that kind of dog attack was not happening.

Not on his watch.

The door jangled shut behind me, one with the sort of irritating bell that made me want to find the owner and shove it right where the sun didn’t shine. Fucking hate those things. I turned and took a deep breath, letting the night air invade my lungs and calm me. I’m a night owl sort of person, so being in darkness calms me. Nothing to do with what I am, the Reaper part of me, it’s me…my mom’s a night owl, but my dad and brothers are all early risers. Weirdos. Who wants to see the day from that side? I like to give it chance to wake up and have several cups of coffee before I set foot out of bed.

Settling my pack to a more comfortable position over my back, I hung a left and headed down the street to where I’d parked my bike. I just hoped it was where I left it. Another piece of Reaper kit, like the twin sickles nestled in the small of my back, it had arrived with the Grimm and decided that cars were passé. It wanted to be a bad-ass bike instead. Fine by me, I travel light anyway.

The chunky heels on my boots clicked against the sidewalk as I walked. I didn’t take my time. Detective Driven back there could see me, so no matter how cute this town was, I needed to haul ass. Once I’d reaped, I’d be moving on again, and the sexy cop with the too-sharp eyes would be a mere memory.

Did I say my love-life sucked? It does. Sucks big time. I have no idea how my grand-pop managed to find time to court my grandmother, and bring up a family. But the bringing up part had more to do with my Nanna. Now
there’s
a woman to put the fear of death into even a Reaper. Many’s the time I’ve seen my Pop hiding out in the garage when he’d pissed her off. I tried to avoid pissing Nanna off. Life was too short, and she had a mean aim with a rolling pin.

Turning the corner, I stepped into the alley I’d used as a shortcut earlier. Yeah, I know all the classes say women shouldn’t go into dark alleys at night on their own. But with me? Muggers needed to go about in gangs for their own protection.

As though the fates read my mind, I was less than halfway down the alley when the shadows took form, and the Lycan stepped out in front of me. I stopped in surprise, and then snapped my mouth shut to avoid doing my best guppy impression.

“You want to do this. Seriously?” My voice was a toss-up between incredulous and pissed off. I needed to do a perimeter sweep before the Grimm would even think about letting me sleep, and that nice comfortable bed in the motel room was calling my name.

He took a step closer, eyes shining under the hoody. “Give me the bag, and you won’t get hurt.”

Great. I was being mugged. For real?

“Look, Fido. Did you like…miss what I am?”

Not in the mood to piss about, I dropped the shroud of the shade I kept wrapped around myself out of habit and stepped into the clear. Into reality. On cue, the dodgy light behind the Lycan fizzed and sparked, throwing me into high relief. Without turning to look, I knew that my shadow had lengthened and taken the form of a shrouded figure with a scythe.

He hissed, the sound becoming a howl as the change rolled over him, and within a heartbeat, he charged. Swearing, I dropped my pack, kicking it to the side as I pulled out my sickles. Fuck Special Operations, if this wanker wanted to take me on, his soul was
mine
.

The fight was fast and furious, which was shorthand for brutal chaos. I’d been in a few brawls in my time, and even though it was damn near impossible to kill a Reaper, we could be hurt. Even badly, which tended to piss the Grimm off. So we can fight, like throw down MMA style, or any other when necessary. No claws though, which made me real glad I’d got my sickles when dog-breath got up close and personal.

I danced out of reach when he tried to grab me with a couple of high school wrestling moves. No way, no how. My brothers both thought they were something when it came to the mats, so I’d learned to avoid those grabs before I’d hit my teenage years.

Sliding past the last one, I lashed out with a back fist and caught him behind the ear with my knuckles. He yelped as the edge of my blade snagged in the top of his ear, ripping free as he whirled away. Yeah, should’ve mentioned that too. My sickles, which when you think about it are mini-scythes, are made to dispatch the dearly-departed. They’ve also got one hell of a lethal edge, so they’re real good at the making dead part too.

I did, however, forget one crucial detail. How fucking
fast
Lycans are. Fido had no sooner finished whimpering over his torn ear than he was sprinting for the wall. Dumb fuck here didn’t click on until he leapt, planted a foot on the brickwork, and spun around, cracking me across the face with a heavy roundhouse kick.

Pain exploded in my face, radiating out from my jaw in a very don’t-expect-to-be-eating-anything-but-liquids-for-a-week sort of way. I was barely aware as I staggered backward, my mouth full of blood while my vision lit up like the Fourth of bloody July.

“Police! On the ground.
Now
!”

The order was bellowed in a male voice to match the heavy footsteps as they ran toward us. Yeah, no problem whatsoever with that. The ground looked real nice and comfortable. Stable. Unlike my balance and the parade ringing in my ears as I hid my blades into the custom-made sheaths under my jacket. Last thing I wanted was to have to explain them.

“I said
down
…. Shit, John, he’s all yours. Hey, miss…you okay?”

I tried a nod as someone knelt next to where I was on my hands and knees but decided against it as my head objected. Great, crawling in the gutter. If I’d been drinking, I’d say it was a damn good night out, but coming off worse against a Lycan was just embarrassing.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I spat out the mouthful of blood and squinted to check for the tell-tale glint of white. Nothing. Good, I hadn’t lost any teeth. That would have been the icing on the cake. “He caught me unawares.”

“Yeah, they do that. Freaking animal. I should have done more than warn him back there.”

The low voice sounded familiar, but I was sure I hadn’t heard it before. A frown creasing my brow, I looked up and right into the eyes of the too-astute cop from the bar.

“Animal? You know what he is?”

This time, I didn’t bother hiding my surprise. Not many people, that is, human people, are aware of the other species that live amongst them. Sure, there are a few, but on the whole their stories tended to be dismissed as fanciful ravings or flights of the imagination. Visit any mental institute and you’ll see what I mean. For every nutcase, you’ll find a real seer or psychic locked up… those that weren’t clever enough to keep what they saw to themselves.

“Yeah, he’s a Werewolf.” Blue-eyes looked at me with that way too perceptive gaze. “But that question tells me you know what he is. Which leads to another…what are you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not furry. The rest, you don’t want to know.” I groaned and began to struggle to my feet. He held his hand out to help. An offer I wasn’t going to pass up, not with the ground making like the deck of a ship on the high seas.

He chuckled, his grip firm as my legs did an impression of a bad disco dancer under me. “You don’t talk to cops much, do you? All that’s going to do is make me ask more questions.”

“Given the obvious, I try and avoid the notice of your profession. Cops aren’t real fond of stuff they can’t explain.”

“Makes sense.” He drew me closer, wrapping an arm around my waist as he stared deep into my eyes. “How you feeling? Any sickness or dizziness?”

Huh, no romance moment here. He was checking for signs of a concussion. Pity. He was cute. Very cute. My gaze became fixed on the full lower curve of his lip. Waaaay lush for a man. Kissably lush in fact. So lush, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Shit, what was the matter with me?

“Hey….” His voice became sharper, the arm firmer around my waist. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Of course. Nothing wrong with me at all.” I tried a derisive chuckle and pushed away to prove I was fine, even though I wasn’t. Only my legs folded under me and ruined the whole fucking act.

Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground, and I found myself scooped up against a strong chest. I managed to restrain the whimper as my ovaries threatened to spontaneously combust, and heat raced through my system like a wildfire on a freaking joyride.

“That’s it. You’re not going anywhere but the hospital. Miss—?”

Freaked out, I called on my Grimm but the damn thing seemed to be asleep. Totally non-responsive. That had never happened before. It was always an irritating little whine in the back of my head. Shit. Was it unconscious? Was that possible? Then what Mr. Sexy-cop had said sunk in.

“Laney,” I answered his question on automatic. “No, no hospitals.”

I tried to struggle from his arms, but he had a grip like iron. Great, where was my fabulous Reaper strength when I needed it? Not that I’m that much stronger than a normal human, but I can bench press more than most men and certainly more than any woman of my somewhat petite size. When a reapee wasn’t expecting it, it came as a hell of a surprise. It’s only a little increase, but sometimes it’s not how big a thing is, but what you do with it.

Yeah, I went there. Really.

“Okay. Okay, calm down. No hospitals, I promise.”

I stilled at that and studied him as he started to walk down the alley. God, up close he was even more devastating.

“On one condition.”

I arched one eyebrow, which was the only movement I could make without the ground threatening to split open and swallow me whole. “There are conditions? I didn’t realize this was a conditions sort of situation.”

His stride even despite the uneven concrete surface, he turned right at the end and emerged onto the same street I’d parked my bike. A quick glance confirmed my suspicions; the damn thing had disappeared. Great. I was dependent on Sexy-eyes cop here.

“Well, I could go ahead and take you right to the hospital, but I wouldn’t want you to freak out on me.” He looked down and pulled this little quirk-of-the-lips smile that sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. “Besides, you’re way too pretty.”

He stopped by a car, the brief flash of lights as he unlocked it illuminating the dark street for a second. His gaze focused on my face again, and on the cut I felt throbbing at the corner of my lips. “And since I don’t think I have to be so worried about a concussion with a…umm, someone like you, I’d rather clean that up myself. Problem with that?”

The challenge was delivered with a half-smile and small shrug. Charming, cheeky, and totally the right attitude to take. If he’d have ordered me, or even worse, tried to cuff me, I’d have had him pinned in the gutter within a heartbeat. Even unsteady on their feet, Reapers were a force to be reckoned with—which was why it was kind of nice to be carried and looked after like this.

“Nope. No problem with that.” I let him settle me into the front seat of the car and clip me in. Attentive, gentle, and he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. I notice details like that about hot guys.

His cell rang as he slid into the driver’s seat next to me. I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes. Shit, why couldn’t I get with the program? I should be out there tracking that Were, not sitting here looking through rose-tinted spectacles.

“Regan. Hey, John…. Did ya get him?”

I didn’t bother to open my eyes. I already knew the answer to that one. From what I’d seen of them in the bar, Regan…nice name there, wonder if that was his first or his second name…and his partner were both as human as they came. No pure-blood human was going to be able to run down a Were, not without a miracle anyway. Those suckers were built for running. Usually after something, but away worked too.

“Crap…well, we haven’t got a chance of tracking him now. Might as well call it a night. Yeah…the hospital, right. I’ll ring you in the morning.”

I turned my head and cracked an eyelid. Regan’s jaw was set, lips compressed as though he suppressed a howl of frustration. Leaning forward, he started the engine and pulled the car out onto the road.

“My my, Detective. Lying to your partner?” I tsked. “You naughty boy, you.”

“You have
no
idea.” The look in his eyes burned when he turned to me, heat flaring for a second before he got it under control, and the mask slid into place again. I blinked in surprise. Everything female in me responded to that one look. Pure, human lust, nothing more, nothing less, but it rocked my world like nothing else.

“What are you…?” He asked. “Some kind of siren?”

“Huh? Me?” Amusement bubbled up, welling over into a soft chuckle. “Yeah, right. Have you ever
seen
a siren?”

Jealously hit me broad-side at that one before I beat it off with pure logic. No, of course he hadn’t seen a siren, because none of the sisterhood would have let him get away, not looking the way he did. He’d have been rounded up as soon as they laid eyes on him and bonded to one of them, becoming a willing slave to her every need and desire. Huh, perhaps I could apply to join, because having him at my beck and call was getting more appealing by the minute.

“That would be a no. We just have a problem with Weres at the moment. Last year, we had a boggart infestation.”

My eyebrow hit the stratosphere. “Had? As in past tense?”