The Reaper and the Cop (5 page)

Hearing the sound of breaking glass in the early hours of the morning is nothing new for me. On a normal night, I’m the one causing the breakage though, by the tried and tested method of throwing someone through it, not being yanked out of sleep in a cute guy’s bed because of it.

I jerked upright into a sitting position, sheet slithering to my waist, and listened. My own breathing rasped in my ears, mocking my attempts to hear what was going on downstairs. Ordinary human, remember? I don’t have the vision of a hawk or the hearing of…whatever hears really well.

My reaper senses engaged in a screaming match with good old human, survival instincts and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. Something was in the house with us, and let’s be honest, it wasn’t here for anything as harmless as borrowing a cup of sugar.

Troy grunted and turned over in the bed next to me, managing a neat roll and tuck maneuver that snagged all the covers. I’d have to remember he was a duvet-hog. Slipping from the bed, I sent a silent prayer upward that habit had made me put something on after we’d finished our last round of pulse-pounding sex.

Tingles chased over my skin as the memories tried to take root. Troy was good. Like
really
good. We’d barely made it upstairs after the couch…well, okay, we hadn’t made it to the bedroom straight away. I had carpet burns on my ass to prove it.

I walked into my boots, zipping them up the sides in a practiced movement. Vest, panties and boots, I wasn’t going to win any fashion shows, but there was no time for pants, and to be honest, if my semi-nakedness gave me an edge in a fight, I’d take it. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve flashed the girls and kicked an opponent in the balls while he was distracted.

Not bothering to wake Troy, I went to grab my blades from their sheaths on the back of my belt. The sheaths must be be-spelled or something. When the sickles are away, I can walk through a cop-shop without anyone screaming about me being armed, and Troy had brought my clothes up from downstairs without a word. Although, he had been frowning, his thumb rubbing over one of the sheaths as though something bothered him.

I pondered that for a second. Was he a sensitive? Perhaps had something non-human in his family tree somewhere that allowed him to see creatures like me. I pulled and the blades came free with a small snick. It was almost soundless, but I cast a quick glance over to the bed anyway. Last thing I needed was Troy waking up.

Men are a nightmare in a fight. Most want to wade in and protect the little woman, which meant I’d have my hands full kicking the crap out of whatever was in the house
and
protecting him as well. No, better he stay up here asleep while I worked.

The house was too quiet. I closed the bedroom door behind me, the soft click making me freeze and listen. My breathing roared in my ears again. How frigging loud does that seem when you’re trying to hear something as quiet as a mouse fart three rooms away?

Holding my breath, I strained for any sound, or absence of the same that would tell me what I was facing. Lifelines crowded in my vision so thick and fast that I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped me. Red, silver, gold, purple…colors I hadn’t even
seen
before almost blinded me.

What the fuck was going on? I’d never seen so many lines, not at the same time. And they blinked in and out, some going dull before flaring up again, but none of them were dying. Which meant I was the only reaper out and about.

My expression set as I moved along the landing, muting the lines so my vision wasn’t impaired and kept my eyes on the stairs. Whatever was going down in this town was big, and if I was the sole company rep in the vicinity, I’d have to take care of business. Wholesale.

Fuck. Just what I wanted.

On the other hand, more reaps in the town meant I might get to stay here a while. With the amount of lines crowding to get my attention, it was going to take me weeks to clear the backlog. If I was lucky, I’d manage it before any of the weird and wonderful brethren started to snack on the human population.

I reached the top of the stairs and snapped around the bannister post, blades held ready. It was my best full-on Jet Li pose, and a total waste. The stairwell was empty. Not sure whether to be relieved or pissed no one had been there to see my awesome ninja skills, I padded down the stairs on silent feet.

A red line broke through the suppression I had on that part of my vision. Lycan. If he was inside or outside was something the Reaper part of me didn’t know. One thing I did know, if it planned on getting in here after Troy, it was as dead as a fucking dodo.

I took the last couple of steps as slow as I could bear. The stairs opened onto a small study area. Arched doorways led to other rooms. Moonlight filtered through the open blinds to bathe the room in shades of silver and gray. Nothing moved apart from dust motes dancing in the shafts of light.

I eased along the wall. A cold gust of air from the direction of the kitchen clued me in. Cold air meant that was the location of the busted window. Glass crunched, and I froze. Listening. The red line in the corner of my vision throbbed harder than a cock on a porn set. Was it the Lycan from the alley earlier? If so, he was dumber than I’d thought.

I stepped out into the doorway, easily spotting my prey. Not difficult when he was over seven feet and covered in fur.

“Oi, Fido.” I whistled between my teeth to get his attention. “Over here.”

He whipped his head around, shining amber eyes telling me I had all his attention. Good. I wanted this over and done with pronto so I could get back to bed and the warmth of Troy’s arms.

I edged into the room. From the ragged tear in one pointed ear, it looked like I was talking to the same critter that had jumped me in the alley. My jaw throbbed in memory as a nasty little grin spread over my lips.

Payback time.

“Did you not get the message in the alleyway?” I asked, picking up an apple from a nearby bowl and hurling it across the room. He snarled, the air a mass of gleaming claws. Bits of apple dropped to the counter-top. Built in slice and dice. What fun.

Fun or not, he needed dealing with. Fast. I’d gotten lucky with the breaking glass. Troy had to be the heaviest sleeper I’d ever come across, which was a bit of a surprise for a cop. I thought they were all light sleepers—ever ready for a call to get them back out to put the bad guys away and woken by the slightest thing. Damn you TV for skewing my preconceptions. Right now though, that was working in my favor.

The Lycan snarled as I lobbed more fruit at him. Apples, oranges, even the bananas. Fruit salad littered the kitchen as he advanced, claws clicking on the tiles. I lifted my blades, ready for battle like some ancient warrior maiden, and then heard a sound that made my heart plummet and sing at the same time. Troy wasn’t the slug-a-bed I’d though he was, he was a sneaky son of a bitch who’d been pretending.

“Hey, asshole. Get away from the lady.”

Great. I was in a kitchen, fighting a werewolf I didn’t have the clearance or training to reap. If that wasn’t bad enough, I think the love of my life was threatening it with a gun.

Boy, am I screwed now.

***

She was quiet. Troy had to give her that. He’d heard the glass breaking downstairs at the same moment she’d jerked awake, but he’d schooled his reaction and focused on her instead. He’d mentally categorized her as a pixie woman, well known to be non-combatant, and assumed she’d gotten caught in the alley by mistake. But now, seeing how easily she woke at the first sign of danger, he was forced to reassess.

The way she slid from the bed and padded across the floor, even in those clumpy boots, was near silent. Keeping his breathing deep and even as though he still slept, he watched her from under a cracked eyelid. She’d make an excellent cat-burglar, but somehow he didn’t think that’s what she was about. Which was good, since he didn’t want to arrest her after a night of mind-blowing sex. Besides, he had nothing worth stealing.

He was proven right when she bent, distracting him for a moment with a view of her curvy ass. God, he loved her ass. He almost gave himself away when she pulled two vicious-looking curved knives from nowhere. Startled, his lidded gaze flicked back to the belt, but it looked like a normal belt. He’d
thought
there was something odd about it. When he’d carried her clothes upstairs, they’d been too heavy and oddly balanced to be simply the fabric he saw and felt.

Magic-user. She had to be.

He slid his eyes shut as she turned toward him, no doubt checking he was still asleep, then slipped out of the door and pulled it shut behind her. He didn’t fall for the bait. Instead, he lay there a little longer, in case she pushed the door open again. She didn’t, and after a minute, his breath eased from his lungs in a long rush.

He surged into movement, flipping back the covers and on his feet in a heartbeat. Like her, he dragged the minimum of clothing on before grabbing his sidearm and heading out the door. It shut behind him with a soft click, and he froze. A crash from downstairs assured him no one had heard it.

Swearing under his breath, he ran down the stairs, eyes trained on the bottom and his gun at the ready. He tried for quiet, really he did, but at six foot plus was wasn’t a lightweight and the sound of his heart thundering in his ears made it difficult to tell if he managed it.

Fear raced through his veins like a thousand marching ants with hobnail boots on. A terrible tattoo that accompanied the racing of his thoughts. She’d be okay, she
had
to be okay, he told himself, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to listen.

Instinct and the smallest of drafts, little more than a whisper of sensation over his skin, turned him in the direction of the kitchen. Instead of turning left and going through the small study area, he headed right to the main room. The door into the kitchen there was wider with a better line of sight. Whatever was in there wouldn’t be able to hide from him, not from that angle.

He turned the corner and did a neat half-step to the left, his movements slick with experience. He’d walked around his own place often enough he could do it blind-folded. The main room was rendered monochrome by night. The warmth leeched out of the beiges and browns.

Half an apple flew out of the doorway ahead of him, hit the floor, and slid a few feet across the wooden floor before it came to a stop at the edge of a rug. He spared it a glance and tucked himself against the wall to approach the door. Three slices of banana, complete with skin, followed the apple and landed on the floor with wet splats. What the hell was in there...the lesser-spotted fruit-monster?

Snarls had him focused on the doorway again. Reaching it, he swung around the corner, hand with the gun slicing in different directions as he checked the room out. What he saw almost stopped his heart. A fully-furred up Lycan advanced on Laney, wickedly sharp claws glittering in the dull light through the window.

“Hey, asshole.” He aimed for the back of the creature's neck. Sever the spinal cord, and no matter what supernatural mojo the fucker was channeling, it was all she wrote. “Get away from the lady.”

The reaction was instantaneous and so not what he expected. Far from the damsel in distress swooning gratefully at his timely intervention, Laney shot him an irritated glance.

“Troy, will you fuck off? The monsters are playing here.” As if to underline her point, she threw the now-empty fruit bowl at the creature. It hit the creature up the side of the head with a clang, and shattered on the floor. The Lycan snarled, whipping its head around to focus on her again.

“Come on,” she snarled back, spinning those strange blades of hers over the back of her hands. The look on her face was determined, with a dark edge that sent a shiver along Troy’s spine. His jaw dropped, mouth opening like a guppy’s, as she advanced on the beast.

She met the creature head on, bellowing with rage. The blades in her hands flashed as she landed blow after blow. Silver shimmered along the wicked edges. Within seconds, the shine was gone, replaced by dark wetness.

Troy’s hand wavered, trying to pick a clean shot, but she was everywhere, dancing around the Lycan like a prima ballerina. What the hell was she? She moved like nothing he’d ever seen before, lethality and grace wrapped in one kick-ass package.

Spinning, she sliced downward and the Were roared in pain. Blood splattered over a cupboard door, a gory pattern that was almost beautiful. He spotted an opening, lifted his arm to take the shot. The retort of the gun rang out twice, the sound near deafening in the enclosed space of the kitchen. The bullets thudded into thick fur, the creature jerking with each one. Dark, wet patches spread out like flowers blossoming, but the thing didn’t drop like he expected.

And it needed to go down before it took another swipe at Laney. Sure, she was shit-hot with those blades, and fast as all hell, but it would only take one mis-step and... His heart clenched in fear, he didn’t even want to think about it.

“For fuck’s sake, would you die already,” Troy snarled, stepping into the room.

“Stay out!” Laney yelled, but it was too late.

He pulled the trigger again, aiming for the back of the thing’s head. With a preternatural speed, it ducked, the slug slamming into the cupboard behind it. The creature turned its head and fixed him with a yellow stare. He swallowed, fear rooting him to the spot for a second before he fought it off. Damn that whole human “freeze, flight, fight” response. He was so going for fighting, every time.