Reap & Redeem (28 page)

“That’s it?” Kylen asked, disgusted.

“She must have left the cemetery from here but not on foot. I guess he flashed with her like Maeve thought.”

“Now what? At least he has both their scents.” Nate said, scratching the dog’s ears.

“Now we hunt. That dog better show more of an ability to find demons than he does humans, or he’s going back to the Purgatory pound. One demon is all I need. I’ll make it tell us where she is. Trust me.”

“Okay,” Deacon said. “Let’s try your portal, Nate.”

* * *

They flashed back to the exit portal and waited. A stakeout was the last thing Kylen had the patience for, but under the circumstances it was their best bet to catch a demon before the creatures bedded down for the night. They’d probably rest somewhere near the portal or, if they’d had their fill, head back to Hell. Either way was fine by him.

The boxcar was dark as they approached the closed steel door.

“Sure would be nice to know what’s waiting for us behind this door,” Deacon said, smiling at Kylen. “But then again, I’ve always liked surprises.” Deacon and Kylen drew their scythes.

“Here we go,” Nate said, straightening to his full height and pulling his short sword from the scabbard under his shirt.

Kylen gave him a questioning look. “What?” Nate asked. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?”

Kylen shook his head and pointed to the door, a twinge of a smile curling his lips. “Do it.”

Deacon slid the door back in one swift motion and they poured into the dark rail car.

It was déjà vu all over again, this time the darkness was nearly complete until Deacon manifested a soft glow, illuminating the car enough for them to see the silhouettes of the demons. All males again.

Good.

Kylen slashed and tore his way through three of the eight demon hosts while Deacon and Nate worked on a couple of their own.

Kylen picked up a fourth demon and pressed it into the wall, his knee imbedded into the demon host’s groin, holding him several inches off the ground. His scythe curved neatly around the creature’s throat, securing it in place. If it surged forward, it would be beheaded. If it tried to slink below his blade, it would be beheaded. If it tried to crawl up the wall, it would be beheaded.

It was a nice place to be. If you were a reaper, that was.

Kylen forced his knee deeper into the host’s soft groin. The desire to hack the abomination to bits was so strong he could barely contain himself. His arms shook with anticipation.

The fighting came to an end behind him, and Nate and Deacon flanked him as he held the prick in place.

“Where is Camael?” Kylen asked. Once. Nicely.

The demon laughed. “You’re going to kill me, anyway. Why would I help you?”

Kylen glanced at Deacon, making a choice without asking him. “I
am
going to kill you. But the question you have to ask yourself is do you want to live to fight another day? When I kill your host, you can either slink out of here to find a new one or we’ll hoover you up like the scum you are and it’s lights out. See…you
do
have a choice. Now, choose.”

Nate shook his head and stepped back, but Deacon pulled in closer and pressed a push blade against the demon’s rib. “You heard him. Choose.”

The demon’s eyes darted nervously between the two men as sweat broke across his brow. “He’s at an abandoned church. Pharr Cemetery.”

Kylen dragged the blade across the demon’s throat, and its head tilted to the side before tumbling off. He stepped back from the wall and let the body slide to the floor. The demon streamed out of the host’s neck and was through the door in a heartbeat.

“Great. More bodies.” Nate slid his backpack off his shoulder.

Deacon turned his gaze on Kylen. “So we’re freeing demons, now?”

“Temporarily. I’ll find him again. Soon.”

The sound of bones crunching spun their heads around to the far corner where the hellhound was happily tearing the flesh from the leg of one of the hosts.

“Still think he’s cute?” Kylen asked Nate as he walked to the door.

Nate shrugged. “He’s efficient. And it’ll cut down on dog food.”

“Nate, will you stay and take care of this, and then go join Maeve and Ruth?” Deacon said. “I don’t like the feel of things.”

“You got it.”

Kylen and Deacon shimmered and flashed to Pharr Cemetery.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Olivia was fading fast. Her heart was beating more slowly now. She could count the labored beating of the betraying muscle in her chest each time it filled and released. She concentrated on it, willing it to continue its work. Her head grew heavy, and her eyes wouldn’t open any longer. Dawn had to be near. Something inside her told her she wouldn’t see the sunrise.

A tear rolled down her face. She’d accomplished so much in the past year, but it wasn’t enough. The one thing she hadn’t dared to put on her list,
to be in love,
was the only thing that was currently keeping her heart beating.

She knew it was selfish to want it. Cruel to solicit it. And yet, there it was, wrapped around her heart like a crushing fist, forcing the broken organ to continue doing its job.

She clutched her crumpled list in her damp hand, struggling through the excruciating pain that shot through her body. She couldn’t escape it. There was no way around it. The pain had trapped her as surely as this church did, and it was consuming her. The only thing that distracted her from the sensation was counting the items on her list and reliving her accomplishments. Time passed, and she began a new prayer: a prayer for the pain to end. She couldn’t take it much longer. The burden was too great.

Drawing in a shuddering gasp, she held it inside, feeling the slow, thick thud of her heart stop as it finally gave up the fight. Her hand fell open and the list rolled to the floor as her last breath escaped in a long, slow sigh.

* * *

Kylen and Deacon flashed into the Pharr Cemetery. Eleven headstones gleamed up at them in the moonlight of the disheveled, unfenced graveyard deep in the Arkansas wilderness. A small white church stood nearly a hundred feet in front of the cemetery. The entire grounds were surrounded by trees. The place hummed with power and was lousy with imps.

“Do you feel that?” Deacon asked, scanning the grounds and taking inventory.

“Yes.”

“This place is a ticking time bomb. We can’t do this alone.”

“I’m not leaving without Olivia.” Kylen took a step forward.

Deacon grabbed his arm. “You won’t do her any good if you’re dead.”

Kylen tore from his hold. “Stay, if you’re afraid.”

“Fuck you.” Deacon stalked ahead of him, leading the charge toward the church’s door. Imps scattered out of his path and peered around the edges of the building. The grounds were losing their consecration if the imps were this close, which could only mean that an overwhelming force of evil was amassing nearby. As he reached the front steps, head down and determined, Deacon careened into an invisible force field that shot him back across the disheveled front lawn, landing square on his ass.

Kylen swore the imps were laughing at them.

“Dumbass.” Kylen helped his friend to his feet and stepped forward.

“Who’s the dumbass? You’re planning to do the exact same thing I just did.”

“He doesn’t want you, Deacon, or he would have taken Ruth. I’m the one he’s expecting. The door will open for me.”

Deacon didn’t argue as Kylen took another tentative step forward. Kylen was positive that Olivia was inside. His heart ached for her. When he got her back, he was never letting her go again. Ever.

He passed over the unseen threshold and ran up the stairs without resistance. When he reached the doorway, it swung open for him. He looked back at Deacon and shrugged. Tightening his grip around the handle of his scythe, he stepped inside the church.

* * *

Moonlight streamed through the west windows of the chapel as the bright orb hovered over the pine trees, and the sky to the east began to lighten at the horizon with dawn’s approach. Both sides of the chapel windows glowed dissonantly—one with moonlight, the other with sunlight. The light was tinged with color from the stained-glass windows.

The chapel was silent as a grave. He took long strides down the center aisle, his eyes trying to adjust to the awkward lighting, searching for Olivia. When he got to the front of the chapel, his breath caught and his throat closed off. Olivia lay motionless on the pew, curled into a ball. She looked deathly pale even in the low light, and a dim white aura glowed around her.

“Olivia,” he choked out, rushing to her side.

“Olivia!”

He shook her and dragged her still-warm body into his arms, pushing his electric-blue energy into her when she didn’t automatically draw it from him. It coursed through him, flowing into her body. He covered her mouth with his and filled her with his light until she practically radiated with his energy.

She still didn’t move.

He fumbled for the vial, retrieving it from his pocket with trembling hands. It
couldn’t
be too late. This had to work. Ignoring the quickly fading glow of his energy as it leaked from her, he opened her mouth and poured the pink contents from the vial down her throat. Crushing her more tightly against him, he pressed his mouth to hers again, pushing the liquid into her with his breath and energy.

Holding her in his arms, his heart fractured as the seconds ticked by. Nothing. No sign of life. He was too late.

Again.

“It seems like you’re a little late to the party.” Camael strode from the shadows at the far corner of the sanctuary, his host’s body deteriorating around him.

Kylen closed his eyes and prayed for the strength to destroy the bastard once and for all. As he gently settled Olivia back onto the bench, her aura vanished. He’d carry her soul to Purgatory himself as soon as he kicked this asshole back to Hell. For good.

Or died trying.

His hand anxiously opened and closed around his scythe. Rage filled his body, nearly blinding him until he tamped it down. He leveled his stare at Camael.

“You killed her.”

“No, Kylen. You killed her by taking so long to come to me. You know where you truly belong.”

“You don’t own me anymore.”

“Own. Rent. Is there really a difference? The point is, that rage in you won’t go away, no matter what balm you apply to it. Why not use it as it’s meant to be used? I thought Deacon could do the job, but he was found…lacking. You’ve had imps at your beck and call before. Why not demons? Give me your body, and together we can change the world. We can have legions of demons at our bidding to command right here on Earth. We can take back what was meant to be ours.”

“Seems to me your efforts aren’t nearly as effective as you’d hoped. A few hundred demons won’t win you world domination. You can’t even hold a portal open for more than a few moments.”

“A temporary setback, my friend. You’d be amazed by what can be accomplished when the conditions are right.”

Kylen stretched his neck to the side until he heard the familiar pop, and then tilted it to the other side until it popped again.

“You know, Camael, a week ago, that might have sounded like a better offer. But now? I don’t think so. I’m a changed reaper.” He drew his scythe back and charged toward the fallen angel. Wondered briefly if hacking the angel to bits would leave a mark on his newly cleansed soul, and then decided he didn’t give a shit.

Camael flashed away just as Kylen reached him, but his blade sliced through the angel’s clothing before he disappeared. Surprised by the angel’s ability, Kylen turned, waiting for him to reappear. When he drew the blade closer, Kylen was taken aback by the bright red blood covering the steel.
Red?
He didn’t know what he’d expected from the angel, but this wasn’t it. Red seemed so…mortal. He knew Camael needed to use a host here on Earth, but the flashing and the blood?

At least he’d hit him. Somewhere.

It was a start.

When Camael reappeared seconds later, his host was noticeably worse for wear. The body looked like it was rotting, and a fresh red gash sliced across its chest. Kylen swung his scythe and Camael deflected the blade with the force of his energy alone. The scythe flew from Kylen’s hand and skittered across the floor toward the front row of pews. Kylen drew both push blades from his thighs and stayed low, waiting for Camael to advance. Blood leaked through the white fabric of the angel’s shirt like a blooming flower, and Kylen felt a smile of gratification stretch across his face.

His heart thundered behind his ribs as adrenaline flooded him. This was it. He wouldn’t walk out of here, but he’d be damned if he was going down without a fight. Deacon might have to take both his soul and Olivia’s to Purgatory this morning. At least they’d be together, but this was certainly not the reunion he’d had in mind. Still, he would need to injure Camael badly enough for Deacon to at least get to them. And Camael was not invincible here. He was in a host body just like his demons. He was still stronger than any demon or reaper, but he was not invincible.

With renewed vigor, he gathered himself and rushed at Camael, burying both blades into the angel, one in his neck, the other in the soft hollow of his side. With any luck, he might have skewered at least one vital organ.

Camael laughed and pushed Kylen back with a flick of his wrist, bowling him into the east wall of the chapel like a cannonball. The angel was too strong, and the damage Kylen was inflicting wasn’t nearly enough to end him.

He raised his eyes to the angel, both blades still gripped tightly in his hands, as his body slid down the wall. His arms refused to rise. He couldn’t even protect himself anymore. All the fight drained out of him, and a strange and foreign sense of peace settled over him as he accepted his fate. Someone else would have to fight the fight after all, Deacon or Nate or anyone other than him. He’d done his part. He’d earned his rest.

The familiar phrase “no rest for the weary” played on repeat at the edges of his consciousness, but his head hung to his chest and he let his blades fall from his hands in defeat.