Reap & Repent (20 page)

“This is huge! The demon wouldn’t have knowingly let Kylen tell you its name. Your light energy may have given Kylen the boost he needed to break through, if only for a moment. And he must have led the demon away from where he was holding you for long enough for you to escape. Otherwise, the demon would never have let you go without a fight.”

“Does this mean you can help Kylen now?”

“I can’t.” Deacon looked over at Nate. “But he can. Like we talked about? Right, Nate?”

Nate nodded. “Theoretically, we should be able to trap the demon for long enough to force him out. I can have the apartment ready by tomorrow night… You just have to get him here.”

“No, not here,” Deacon said, stroking Ruth’s hair. “We need to do this at Ruth’s place. There are too many witnesses and potential casualties here.”

“Okay, I’ll get my stuff gathered up and bring it over. It’s going to take a while.”

“Have you done this before, Nate?” Ruth asked.

“No. But we can do it.”

She admired his confidence. These two men were nothing if not confidence and testosterone embodied. She hoped he was right because she’d witnessed the damage the demon was capable of inflicting. Deacon looked so much better, and the wounds she could see were all healed, but she worried for Nate… And frankly, she worried for herself, as well. Someone needed to be left standing to make a food run if necessary. There was no pizza delivery where she lived.

“So, what now?”

“Now we go clean up some souls and lay a trap for him. We’re going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Okaaaaay …” she said. “And how are we going to do that?”

“We’ll make sure we’re completely caught up, and then tomorrow night, we’ll leave him some bait.”

“What do you mean? Bait?”

“I’ll purge a few souls at a location of our choosing. Demons are nothing if not opportunistic. Between the lure of a few easy souls and the chance to defeat us? He’ll come.”

It sounded risky all the way around to Ruth, but she didn’t have a better plan. If it worked, they had everything to gain, but if it failed? Someone would be reaping
them.
She had no desire to see where the demon would take them.

“Nate, can I borrow your computer?” Deacon asked. After Nate voiced his agreement, Deacon sat down at the neat little desk in the corner of the living room and started jabbing at the keyboard with his index fingers.

“What are you looking for?” Ruth asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Obits, murders and deaths in the area since Tuesday. We’re way behind schedule, and there are lots of souls for the picking right now. We need to limit his options.”

Ruth watched him peck and find for a good three minutes before it was all she could stand. “Move over,” she said, hip-checking him out of the chair. “This is totally my thing.”

She pulled up some more suitable search engines, sending a list to the printer in a matter of minutes.

Deacon pulled the list off the printer and smiled. “Damn, now that’s a useful talent.”

She agreed. At least she had gained something advantageous from her six years of graduate school.

Nate gathered up his supplies as they formed their game plan. Midstrategizing, Deacon looked Ruth up and down and gave her a slow smile.

“You’re kind of cute like that.”

She didn’t feel kind of cute. Her ponytail was a mess, she smelled like a cheeseburger, and it felt as if there were socks on all of her teeth. She was also pretty sure that what little mascara she had put on two days ago was in a raccoonlike circle around her eyes by now. Obviously, he was brain damaged from fighting with the demon.

He leaned in and gave the top of her head a kiss. She snuggled her cheek against his neck, wishing herself back to the night she had spent in his arms.

Nope, I’m still here. Still about to help bait, trap and fight a demon. What the hell?

Nate came back into the living room with two empty duffel bags and another one with a red cross emblazoned upon it.

“What’s in that bag?” Ruth pointed to it.

“At the rate you two are going, I think it’s a good idea to be prepared for more potential medical catastrophes.”

Probably a good point.

“You’ll have to open the circle around your house, Ruth, or I’ll never be able to get in.”

“I don’t know if the circle’s even there anymore, given how many imps were trying to nosedive their way through it the last time I was home.”

“We’ll go to the house first to make sure that everything’s clear. We’ll leave the door open for you.” Deacon said. “Thank you, Nate.”

“What else are friends for?”

* * *

Deacon and Ruth landed back in her living room. Even though they’d only been there for a few moments, she was glad to be back home.

“I’m going outside to check the perimeter. Five minutes and we’re out of here.”

Ruth rolled her eyes at him and headed to her bedroom to pack yet another backpack. She also changed into a pair of jeans that fit her better. The last thing she wanted to do was fight a demon in floppy sweatpants.

Not that I’ll do much better in jeans since I still have no idea what the hell I am doing.

She got her things together, stuffed them in the bag and walked back to the kitchen to add a few snacks.

She liked Nate, a lot. But she couldn’t figure out what was with all the posturing between him and Deacon.

She shouldered her backpack and left through the back door, where Deacon was ready and waiting. Impatiently.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Deacon looked at her. Hard.

“That took forever.”

“It wasn’t that long,” she said, making her way to him. “I needed another backpack and pants. I thought it would be best if my pants didn’t fall off in the middle of whatever we’re about to do.”

Softening, Deacon smirked. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

She wound her arms around his waist. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He stood rigid in her arms.

“Well,
something
is going on. What’s wrong with you and Nate?”

Deacon shook his head. “He’s upset with me for holding out on him all these years. He’s been casting circles and consecrating ground for me for a long time without asking questions, which I like about him …”

His face relaxed, and he sighed. “He was pissed to find out how big all of this is so far into the game. I should have told him a long time ago.”

Ruth rubbed her hands up and down Deacon’s arms, comforting him. “He’s a good guy. I could have trusted him, but I was also trying to protect him. People don’t need to know about us…or about all of the real things that go bump in the night. Too much reality is a burden that most people can’t handle.”

She had to agree with that, as quite enough reality had been dumped onto her as of late. It still felt as if there was a lot more to the story, and then there was that bizarre vibe that she was getting from Nate. Not to mention his befuddled and
muddy aura. Even more disconcerting was that his aura was
brightly
muddied. She had no idea what that meant. Was it really just his confused feelings over being left out of the loop, or was it something else? Jealousy, maybe? That part she did not understand at all. It had to be something else, but she had no idea what.

Deacon gave her a squeeze and snatched up his backpack along with the death notices she had printed out. He slipped the pack on and folded the papers, sliding them into his back pocket.

“Let’s go. This list is long, and I have a feeling that the demon has already been busy tonight.”

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. She felt the pull, and in a few seconds they were in the middle of Meridian National Cemetery.

* * *

The cemetery was situated along two very busy main roads in town. They landed in the middle of the grounds under a gazebo. Deacon pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket. They were looking for George Robert Farr, aged ninety-three. George had passed a few days ago and had been buried today.

It was a big cemetery and there was probably a map somewhere, but George had been buried too recently for his resting place to be on any map. They needed to look for the most recent ground turning and the freshest turf—new earth screamed of fresh death. It was an old cemetery and the newest arrivals were all situated along the periphery, so they headed from the heart of the grounds to the south edge.

Streetlights brightened the otherwise dark cemetery and the luminescent moon made it easier to read the headstones and markers as they made their way across the lot. Since it was the oldest cemetery in town, many of the rock markers were fragile and crumbling.

A variety of headstones were arranged in neat rows, ranging from marble crosses and elaborately engraved granite monstrosities to large box-shaped crypts. Ruth tried to read the dates as they walked through. She was amazed that each time she thought,
This has to be the earliest one,
she’d find another that was even earlier.

Some stones dated back to the early 1800s. Most of the Civil War casualties from the area were buried here along with the more recent fallen service members.

Eighteen hundreds?
Ruth did some quick math in her head. If Deacon was 206, he would have been born in …1806?

“Deacon, are you from here? Did you know any of these people?”

He paused, and then took time to look at the stones, studying them.

“I grew up near here. I know some of the family surnames.”

“How old were you when you first reaped a soul?”

“I was twenty-eight.” Deacon walked ahead and Ruth followed close behind him.

“Twenty-eight? So you first started reaping around 1834? How did you even know how to start?”

“Most reapers spend their lives in geographically secluded communal camps where they’re mentored by other reapers. It was that way for me. We learned to channel and harness our energy, studied reaper history and trained to fight. We had to reap a hundred souls along with a mentor before graduating to solo expeditions. Even after we graduated, most of us traveled in pairs.

“Contrary to what you’ve experienced, demon poachers aren’t all that common, but they do appear from time to time. They’re one of the reasons that reapers carry a scythe. It makes it very handy to decapitate a demon when we come across it. And occasionally, we’re called in to dispatch other wayward beasties as reaper bounty hunters.”

“Like what sort of beasties?”

“You’ve seen several representatives already.”

The thought of “other beasties” was far more disturbing than the fact that they were walking through a cemetery in the dark of night. She wasn’t all that good at dealing with the living, but the dead? Maybe she could learn to appreciate them.

Traffic whizzed by on two of the four sides of the cemetery. National and Sunset were busy thoroughfares, and even though it was nearing 2:00 a.m., there was an uncomfortable amount of activity. Ruth still found it difficult to trust in the whole reapers-repel-normals thing. Deacon didn’t seem all that concerned, and she supposed that as long as they weren’t digging anyone up with shovels and headlamps, it was pretty unlikely that anyone would notice them even if they
were
normal.

Deacon spotted a potential candidate a few graves ahead, and they made their way over. The headstone had Mr. Farr’s name neatly engraved on it next to that of his wife, Olivia Farr.

“Can you…feel him down there?”

“No. It’s been too long. He died while I was incapacitated, and his soul detached too many hours ago. Now we get to go old school.”

Deacon knelt over the grave, gripping the new turf, and turned on the juice. His hands glowed, and he attempted to summon George’s soul from the grave. Deacon pulled and pulled at the grave but the glow dissipated. He rocked back on his heels and stood.

“Nothing. He’s already been reaped.”

Kylen, 1. Deacon and Ruth, 0.

There were no other unreaped souls at the cemetery. Deacon reached for her, and they spun to their next stop.

* * *

They landed in Maple Park Cemetery next, which was tiny in comparison but much darker. With no visible street traffic, they had about zero chance of being spotted as they made their way through the grounds, which was a relief. The entire cemetery covered a couple of wooded acres. It didn’t take long to find the next candidate: Evelyn Opal Carson, aged eighty-seven.

Deacon went through the same machinations and mined the grave for Evelyn’s soul.
Nada.

The demon had been there, done that.

Deacon’s mood was deteriorating.

“Eighty-seven. I’ll bet she saw a thing or two. What about you, Deacon? Have you traveled? You must have made it out of Arkansas at some point.”

“I’ve been around.”

“Seriously? That’s all you’ve got? It’s going to be a long night at this rate,” she prodded.

Deacon sighed in defeat. “Kylen, Kara and I trained together, like I told you. After we’d reaped our quota and graduated, we hung out in Purgatory more than was probably recommended and listened to the reapers share their ‘war stories.’ Some really were war stories. We chased disasters and wars for about five years, traveling across the world through the consecrated subway, harvesting souls along the way, until our reaper senses began to take over, making things more urgent for us. It’s hard to ignore the pull very long when you’re stationary.”

“Where did you travel? I’ve never been out of the state.”

“In 1834 we went to Western Australia to the Battle of Pinjarra and harvested the souls of the Aborigines killed by British colonists. In ‘35 an earthquake in Concepción, Chile, killed five thousand. We stayed there for several months after the reapings had been completed, and then came back to the States in ‘36 in time for the Battle of the Alamo. More than three thousand were killed there. We racked up the reapings and grew stronger and stronger, but we still weren’t ready to accept territories of our own. Kara and Kylen grew closer, and we just kept traveling the world as reaping vagabonds until …”

“Until Kara was killed?”

“Yes.”

Well, if that wasn’t a conversation stopper …