Reap & Redeem (12 page)

The purple sphere of light surrounding Deacon went supernova and flashed, diminishing even Grim’s radiance to a weak glow before winking out. There was an explosion of bright white fireworks behind his lids when he closed his eyes.

Deacon’s chin fell to his chest briefly, and when he opened his eyes, a triumphant grin spread across his face.

This was what success felt like.

“Well done,” Grim praised.

He lifted his gaze to Grim’s. Power leaked from him as purple light sizzled down his arms and out the tips of his fingers. He was the Potentiate, the Powers. And at this moment, he felt like it.

“Impressive, Deacon. Five demons is a notable haul. How were you able to capture so many?”

“Kylen can track them, sir. We’re not sure how or why, but he’s been invaluable.”

“That one is on a precipice, Deacon. Watch him. He has not yet chosen his path, and nothing is predestined.” Grim floated toward a long bar and poured himself a drink. The amber liquid filled his tumbler, flakes of gold floating and swirling inside as if it were alive.

“If he could see Kara, I’m sure she could set him back on the path to righteousness.”

“Kara is well on her way to the fourth Heaven. You know what it would cost her to meet with him. We’ve discussed this.” Grim sighed.

“Isn’t every soul worth saving if it can be redeemed?” Deacon continued, hoping he hadn’t crossed some unseen barrier of angel etiquette.

“Deacon,” Grim crossed the gap between them until Deacon had to close his eyes against the harshness of his light. “Your intentions for your friend are pure, although he may soon be beyond redemption. Even now he dabbles in the darkness of his previous life. The residue clings to him. He made a choice once, and soon he will need to make another.”

“He made that choice to save someone he loved,” Deacon pointed out.

“Damning himself in the process.”

“At least consider it?”

“Your request has been noted. It’s really up to Kara.”

Chapter Fourteen

Nate returned to the concrete basement downtown to find a whole lot of nothing. No Kylen. No bodies. Not even a pool of black blood on the floor. Things were going from weird to weirder. As if that were even possible.

He’d stuffed the body into the furnace after cleaning out the ash and bone from the previous one, and then stoked the fire until the newest addition was well on its way to cremation. He was getting way too good at burning bodies. Maybe he should have been a mortician. Despite the gruesomeness of the task, something about returning the bodies to ash was…rewarding.

By the time he made it upstairs to flash back to the basement, Olivia was asleep on the couch and Ruth was in her bedroom. Now that the first body was on its way to consumption, he had planned on flashing the remaining ones back one at a time, leaving them in a stack. He would bring Kylen home last. Now that he was here, though, there was nary a sign of either the reaper or the hosts.

He spun around at the sound of scuffling in the dark corner behind him, drawing his knife. Yellow eyes winked in the darkness, and then inched toward him. He backed out of the puddle of light shed by the broken basement window.

What happened to the window?

A black cat emerged from the darkness and hunched down to lap at a shiny spot on the concrete floor, but it let out a sudden growl and bolted from the room. Nate released a relieved breath. He didn’t like being here alone. A cold shiver rolled down his spine as the light behind him sputtered then dimmed. Someone or something had crossed by the window. He moved deeper into the shadows from where the cat had emerged and waited. He could flash back if need be, but something felt…off.

A second growl was followed by a sharp crack and thud. It sounded like someone had dropkicked the thing across the alley just outside the building’s doorway. He held his knife down at thigh-level so that the light wouldn’t glint off its blade, giving him away.

Nate couldn’t believe his eyes. A woman had walked into the room, and she was…breathtaking. Dressed in black leather pants and a tight, black wifebeater tank, she had even more knives strapped to her body than Kylen carried around. Every visible inch of her was steeled muscle. She turned to face him and smiled, her white teeth glowing almost iridescent in the pale column of light. Long, straight, ink-black hair swayed to one side as she tilted her head to look at him. He knew who she was instantly: Maeve, the replacement reaper.

Even though she’d been around for months, only Deacon and Ruth had actually met her. Ruth worked with her most nights and Deacon had crossed paths with her on his many trips to Purgatory. Because of Nate’s inability to harvest or carry souls, he was left out of the Purgatory loop, and Kylen’s Purgatory card had been revoked. Despite his infraction with the souls in the alley, Kylen was still on soul probation, and would be until Deacon decided otherwise.

“Are you gonna hide in here all night, or do you want to come out to play?” she asked, clutching a knife in each hand.

Nate took a tentative step forward. “Maeve?”

“Who are you?” She tensed and her eyes flashed in the moonlight.

“I’m Nate.”

Recognition crossed her face. “Deacon’s friend? The non-reaper?”

“Right.” Nate held his ground, waiting for her to back down.

She continued to work the switchblade in her right hand, assessing him as she flipped it open and shut, open and shut. The other knife she slid into the sheath on her left thigh.

“What’s going on here? I found an imp in the alley, and this place reeks of death and sulfur.” She walked the perimeter, inspecting the floor and corners before pausing beneath the street-level window.

Searching for his voice, Nate cleared his throat. “We found a nest of demons. We killed them all, and Deacon brought the demons and the souls they were carrying to Purgatory. Kylen and I were going to take care of the bodies. I took one home, and this is what I found when I got back…”

“Nothing?” she finished.

“Nothing. Unless you count a cat… And get this, the place was a bloodbath when I left. How could it be this clean now? And what happened to Kylen?”

Maeve toed several shards of broken glass into a pile against the wall with her boot. “Was this window broken the last time you were here?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so,” she dragged her index finger across the window ledge and held it up in the light. Black blood glistened on its tip. “This is from an imp.”

“An imp? They must have been the demons’ imps…” Nate suggested.

“Not necessarily,” Maeve swiped her hand across her pants, wiping it clean. “Once their demon dies, there’s no master left to command them. They wouldn’t stick around, unless…”

“What?” Nate asked, taking a step closer to inspect the window.

“Unless they were summoned. They are hungry buggers. And thorough. They could have cleaned up the bodies.”

“Isn’t that convenient?”

“Yes. But it’s dangerous, too. They are indiscriminate and insatiable. Unless they’re commanded, they can easily get out of control. I’m surprised you didn’t see the one in the alley.” She tilted her head at him again in question.

“I’m not a reaper, remember? I can’t tell a cat from a hell beast. They all look the same to me.” He had seen them in all their glory in Hell, but he didn’t feel like offering up that little nugget of intel.

“Well, that’s damn unfortunate.” She kicked the pile of glass, scattering it back across the floor as she continued to circle the room. He had no idea what she was hoping to find.

“How many were there?” she asked, her brow crinkling.

“Demons? Five.”

“Five? You killed five demons here?”

“Deacon killed one. Kylen took care of the rest.”

Maeve whistled through her teeth, obviously impressed. “Well, what merry little nightmare you three are. Nice work.” She walked to the doorway and peered out into the alley, looking both ways.

“Gotta run. There are still plenty of demons out there waiting for a girl to take a break and steal some newly departed souls. No rest for the weary or the wicked.” She grinned at him. “Watch out for cats. All of them.” With that final comment, she stepped through the doorway, vanishing into the darkness of the alley.

Nate hesitated, wondering if Kylen was still nearby, and if so, whether he’d had anything to do with the imps. Could it be a coincidence that six bodies had vanished in the past twenty-four hours, all in Kylen’s wake? One thing was for sure—Deacon needed to know what was going on. If Kylen was responsible for this, Deacon might be the only one who could do anything about him.

Chapter Fifteen

The first light of dawn broke across the horizon as Kylen stepped onto the consecrated ground of the downtown cemetery in Meridian. Nine hours had passed since they’d left to hunt the demons. His clothes were crusted with blood and worse things, and his chest was filled with a crushing weariness that he feared he might never beat back.

It had been a long night, and he’d spent the past few hours laboring to recreate Olivia’s list while drinking the contents of the now-empty fifth of Jameson that was perched on the headstone behind him.

It boggled and amazed him that she had completed nearly everything on the crisp new list that was carefully folded in his cargo-pants pocket. He hadn’t done any of those things, and he’d been alive for more than two hundred years. Of course, the past hundred hadn’t exactly been his own, but still… He couldn’t help feeling like he’d squandered most of his life.

There hadn’t been much free time to pursue any personal interests not related to his vocation. His parents had been reapers, his friends had been reapers, and his lover had been a Valkyrie. The very human pleasures and dreams on Olivia’s list were oddly appealing to him as a testament to the true power of free will, of choosing one’s path and living it.

Life and death had always been intertwined with his existence, but now they felt closer than ever before. The veil had become all but transparent after Kara’s death, and now he felt…what? Why was he even wasting his time considering anything as trivial as his feelings? They didn’t matter. He had a mission and that was all.

That was all.

Maybe if he kept repeating that as a mantra, he’d begin to believe it.

He lifted his eyes toward the eastern sky. The horizon had split into layers of gray and bright white light. He wondered—briefly—what colors it was. With dread and anticipation, he allowed himself to be drawn back to the house through the consecrated subway.

* * *

The
house
was in chaos.

Confused by the yelling emanating from Nate’s bedroom, he drew his scythe instinctively, certain they were under attack. He raced to the doorway, assessing the threat.

Nate leaned over Olivia’s limp body, which lay on the hospital bed once again, his mouth pressed over hers. All sane thought left Kylen’s brain, and he drew the scythe back without even realizing what he was doing. Ruth’s scream brought him back to his senses.

“Kylen! No!”

He hesitated. Lowering his weapon, he realized with fresh terror that Nate was attempting CPR on Olivia.

What the hell is going on?

“Ruth, the AED, now!” Nate cut through Olivia’s shirt with a pair of surgical scissors, shearing it up the center. He cut through her black bra as well, exposing her breasts and the translucent white skin of her chest.

All of the blood drained from Kylen’s brain, pooling in a clump in the center of his own chest.

Nate ripped open the box containing the defibrillator and powered on the device. After tearing the backing from the two yellow pads, he slapped them roughly across Olivia’s chest, and then stood back while the machine kicked into gear.

“Shock advised. Please stand back. Charging,” the machine directed.

Nate and Ruth backed away from the bed and raised their hands, poised to act once the AED delivered its jolt of energy. A light blinked rapidly as the machine activated.

“Shock advised. No one should touch the patient. Please stand clear. Press the flashing orange button now,” the machine advised in its mechanical voice.

Nate pressed the button.

Olivia convulsed on the bed, her back arching off the table before falling back again.

“Shock delivered. It is now safe to touch the patient. Continue CPR for two minutes,” the machine continued.

Nate immediately resumed compressions.

“Stand back. Reassessing heart rhythm,” the machine directed.

A lifetime passed before the machine proclaimed, “No heart rhythm detected. Resume CPR until help arrives.”

Kylen’s legs threatened to give way beneath him.

Nate continued administering CPR to Olivia for several more minutes, pumping her chest and breathing for her, until Ruth placed a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s gone, Nate. There’s no aura.”

Kylen’s own heart stuttered to a halt, and he sucked in a rasping breath. It was true—the glow surrounding her had diminished to nothing.

No! It isn’t time yet!

Nate backed away from the bed, bending forward in exhaustion, pressing his hands into the tops of his thighs. Ruth led him over to his bed and helped him lie down.

“What happened to her?” Kylen managed to choke out, his throat tight, his eyes fixed on Olivia’s frail body.

Ruth’s hands shook as she pulled a light blanket over Nate. “She was on the couch. I thought she was still asleep.” The words caught in her throat and tears welled in her eyes. “When Nate got home a few minutes ago, we tried to wake her. Her heart had stopped. We weren’t sure how long ago. I guess she was already gone, Kylen.”

Kylen walked over to Olivia’s prostrate form and stared down at her, his chest tightening.

You’re giving up too easily! You still have work to do.

With his back to Nate and Ruth, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the list. Reaching forward, he took her small hand in his, turning her wrist until her fingers rolled open. He uncurled her tiny hand and placed the list in her palm, closing her fingers around it with his. Like before, electric blue sparks danced unbidden from his hand, traveling through her fingers before following a path up the veins of her arms. Kylen watched with awe as the energy moved beneath her translucent skin, filled her chest cavity and then burst outward in every direction like a star.