Reap & Repent (27 page)

“Grim is my boss. I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with your name, and I still don’t understand why you summoned me here…naked.”

“Well, the naked part was unfortunate, but the summoning was necessary since you were about to embark upon a mission that is in direct conflict to my own.”

“What mission would that be?”

“The demon controlling Kylen is one of my finest apprentices. I can’t have you mucking up the works by killing his strong host or
removing
my minion from it. Besides, I wanted to make you an offer. Before you start working with Grim, you should experience the full spectrum of possibilities before you. And since you dispatched one of my scout demons so thoroughly, I’ve become, let us say, more motivated to ensure that we work together.”

“That demon was poaching souls. He had it coming.”

“I’m not surprised that you would see it that way given your previous occupation, but there’s more at stake here.”

“Isn’t there always?” Deacon sneered, shifting his weight and assuming a more combative stance.

“So defensive. Perhaps some clothes would put you more at ease?” Camael waved his hand at Deacon, and he was immediately clothed in jeans and a T-shirt. He even had on some boots. Definitely better, but he was far from grateful to the beast.

“I’m sure we can arrange for some more comfortable accommodations, as well. It’s always so dreary down here in holding. I suppose we should do something about that at some point. Oh well, it is Hell, you know. Might as well get the souls used to things right off. Don’t want them getting too warm and fuzzy. You, on the other hand, are a guest, not an inmate. Come,” he said, smiling warmly at Deacon.

Camael turned, leaving his back vulnerable to Deacon. He briefly considered an ambush attack, but he didn’t know what lay beyond the door. Better to case out the surroundings before planning his escape. He warily followed the creature out of the cell.

“No need to travel the hard way,” Camael said, facing Deacon once more. He began to shimmer, and Deacon felt the pull as they both dematerialized from the holding area.

Chapter Thirty-One

“Did you get everything ready at home for when we bring Kylen back?”

Nate hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to think of an alternate plan. “Yes, but I really think we’re in over our heads here, Ruth. Not to be a buzz kill, but what makes you think we can even find him?”

Ruth held a slab of beef jerky between her teeth as she stuffed the food debris back into her pack, and then hoisted it over her shoulder. She snatched the jerky out of her mouth. “I’m pretty sure he’ll find us, actually. All we need to do is spend time in a location where he
can
track us down. He’s already attacked me twice. Third time’s a charm, right? What better place than a cemetery?”

“So you plan to camp out here all night in hopes that he shows?”

“Not here. Good Springs. It’s closer to home, it’s really secluded, I’m fairly sure he’s been using it to get closer to the house and spy on Deacon…or me.”

Nate considered her deductions. Was he ready to put everything on the line for Deacon? For Ruth?

His brain said no. But his heart said yes.

“Shit.”

“Sounds like a yes to me.” Ruth smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

“Ready to fly?”

Before he could answer, they were swirling through the consecrated subway.

* * *

Deacon reappeared alone in an extravagantly appointed suite somewhere in the depths of Hell. It seemed like an oxymoron, but if Hell could be considered lavish, this was. Somewhere between a penthouse at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas and the real thing, the suite had every accoutrement of comfort including an elaborately dressed four-poster bed the size of a small bedroom. A bar and kitchen area took up one side of the suite while a grand bath jutted out onto a balcony which was swathed in an expanse of red light. Steam rose from the octagonal bath as bubbles percolated from an unknown source. It was decadent and inviting. But the best part was the silence. It was blissful after all of the anguished screams in the holding cell.

Deacon should have been disgusted, but he eyed the bed with something akin to lust. What he wouldn’t give for a good night’s sleep. He felt his will to fight ebbing. He was clothed, the room was warm and comfortable, and there was no obvious threat for the moment. He strode out onto the balcony and looked out. Nothing but a red-orange fog for as far as the eye could see. Unsettling. He wondered what lay beneath the fog. He had a feeling that he would find out soon enough.

For shits and giggles, he tried to flash again. Nothing. Whatever bound him here was still in effect. Before he got too comfortable, he needed to fashion a weapon of some sort that he could hide for later use. He had a pretty good idea he’d need one if he was going to make his way out of here.

He longed for his scythe, but that was not going to happen. He found an ornate mirror along one wall and carefully removed it from the hook. Placing the toe of his boot in the center of the mirror, he applied pressure until he heard the crack of breaking glass. Instead of shattering into tiny splinters, the mirror broke into larger more usable pieces, perfect for his purposes. He removed an eight-inch, blade-shaped piece and went about forming it into a shiv. It was crude but effective.

Better than nothing.

He made a makeshift scabbard and secured the weapon around his chest, its blade resting vertically along his spine. He eyed the bed again. Even an hour of sleep would go a long way toward restoring his strength. With sleep
and
a weapon, he was confident that he could find some way to escape. He lay on the bed carefully—the blade was wrapped, but he didn’t need a sliced spinal cord on top of everything else. He closed his eyes.

* * *

Ruth didn’t know how long they would have to wait. But she was prepared to spend the entire night in the cemetery if necessary. They’d watched the sun set, eaten everything left in both backpacks and rehashed their game plan over and over ad nauseam.

The night was warm and dry and the full moon gave them just enough light to take the creepy edge off. Mostly.

“So what did you think about traveling the consecrated subway for the first time?” Ruth asked, breaking their long run of silence.

Nate maintained his quiet in the darkness. Thinking that the silence
was
his answer, Ruth gave up on small talk and resigned herself to waiting silently.

“It wasn’t my first time.”

Ruth couldn’t have been any more shocked if he’d admitted to being some new supernatural beastie. “What do you mean?”

“I think I traveled through it once before…when I was five.”

“And you didn’t see this as pertinent information until now?”

Nate bent forward and cradled his head in his hands. “At one of the foster homes where I lived as a kid, my foster parents sent me to my room during a horrible argument. When I got there, I wished and wished I could be anywhere else. The next thing I knew I was in the middle of a cemetery. I was in my pajamas. It was cold and dark, and I was terrified. I don’t know how long I was gone, but I prayed and prayed to be back home, and suddenly I was. The police came to my bedroom door because my foster parents thought I’d run away. They took me out of the home, and I never went back. I don’t know how that happened.”

Ruth was speechless.

“You
flashed
from your
bedroom?
What, did you live in a monastery?”

“No.”

“How is that possible? Deacon said it has to happen from consecrated ground.”

“I have no idea.”

While they pondered that little tidbit, she kept her eyes on the perimeter of the cemetery. It gave her some comfort to know that imps or demons couldn’t reach them within the confines of the consecrated grounds. Not that they’d seen any imps or demons. Still. She’d learned her lesson about climbing over cemetery fences.

Nate had finally stopped trying to talk her out of their course of action. She knew it would work, because it
needed
to work. They certainly couldn’t leave Deacon in Hell for however long it took for the powers that be to get their bureaucratic ducks in a row and crown the king or whatever nonsense was going on. She needed to take action.

Okay, so there wasn’t currently a lot of action going on unless you counted the skunk with whom they’d nearly had a close encounter of the stinky kind, but she was confident that things would start rolling once Kylen showed.

And just as that thought was scrolling through her mind, who should appear at the gates of Good Spring?

Kylen.

Ruth was on her feet instantly. Nate stood slightly in front of her and to her side. How he planned to protect her against Kylen she had no idea, but she appreciated the noble gesture all the same. The best weapon on their side was the complete randomness of what they were about to do. Even if Kylen or his demon were prescient, neither of them would see this coming.

“Ready?” Ruth whispered to Nate.

He nodded and let her pass him as she approached the demon.

“Kylen,” Ruth said, holding him with her gaze as she made her way closer to him.

“Ruth.” He looked around nervously. She didn’t blame him. It was odd. He had probably expected to find her cowering in fear. Just as she had every other time they’d met. “What’s this? And who is this? And while we’re doing the twenty questions thing, where is Deacon?” He drew his scythe from the scabbard on his back and let it dangle by his side, unopened but at the ready.

“Deacon…is on a mission. A very important mission. And we are on our way home. The real question is what are you doing here?”

“Stay where you are, Ruth.”

“What are you talking about? You aren’t afraid of a rookie reaper and a human…are you?” She was less than six feet from him now. All she had to do was make contact and maintain it for a few moments.

“Stop, Ruth. You don’t want to get hurt here.” He flicked open the blade.

“You’re suddenly concerned for my health? You didn’t seem to care when you ruined my leg on the way out of Purgatory. I thought you wanted a new ride.”

“You’re…offering?”

“Absolutely. I don’t think I’m cut out for this reaper business. I’ve seen where the real power lies.”

“And him?”

“An offering. A starter soul.”

“An off …”

Close enough.

Ruth grabbed hold of Kylen’s shirt and launched herself against him, knocking him to the ground. The look on his face was almost worth it even if she was about to go down in flames and scorched flesh within the next few moments.

Her hands lit up like orange spotlights, and she pushed a bolt of orange energy into him, startling him into place as Nate piled on, trapping Kylen’s scythe arm to the ground.

The glow encompassed them all. Their combined emotions fed the light energy, and she drew from Nate’s aura, powering the light more and more. Anger, fear and hatred from Kylen and his demon mingled with her own energy until she thought that all three of them might ignite into a bonfire in the middle of the cemetery.

What sort of power had she tapped into? Twisting her hands around both of their shirts, she pulled them in toward her until all three of them were touching. She looked into Kylen’s shocked eyes and screamed, “Home!”

Instead of the slow pull to which she was accustomed, they were ripped through the consecrated tunnels, a tangle of bodies, blades and backpacks. For a moment she feared they might all be ripped to shreds.

Chapter Thirty-Two

They landed in the middle of her living room in a pile of scrambling arms, legs and loose blades. Below them, engraved into the wood floor, was a six-foot circle of burned symbols. Both men were instantly on their feet and facing off, leaving Ruth to gather herself and her senses. Nate swiftly stepped out of the circle, and then grasped her legs, dragging her out, as well.

The demon slashed out with his scythe but hit a whole lot of invisible demon trap.

Realizing he was caged inside the engraved circle, the demon howled, cursing and spitting. If ever there were a time to believe in the power of magic, now was the moment. The fact the demon couldn’t escape the circle to act on his obviously murderous thoughts was a miracle. Ruth wanted to kiss Nate for his ingenious trap, but wrong place, wrong time was an understatement.

Nate was all business, and he began chanting in Latin while the demon spewed insults, taunts and threats at them.

“You think this is the end? This body will be useless if I leave it. I’m scrambling his brain right now. He’ll be ruined. And his soul …” The demon laughed and tore at its clothes, his claws ripping into Kylen’s body.

“Ex is vir everto, Orithidon, solvo is humanus vacuus vulnero physical vel mental, ex is vir nunquam ut reverto ut alius victus res a vomica super vos ut nunquam iterum reperio refugium in terra plagiaries.”
Nate repeated the chant over and over.

The temperature in the room plunged, and Ruth shivered as goose bumps crawled over her arms and legs. The wind picked up outside, roaring through the trees like a tsunami wave. She concentrated on reinforcing the circle, making it an impenetrable shield around her house. She felt it fortify and not a moment too soon.

Nate continued to chant. The demon thrashed Kylen’s body around the small space, bloodying his flesh in crisscrossing slashes. His clothes dripped with his own blood. The shield outside sizzled, and she assumed that more of the demon’s imps were crashing into the circle, bouncing off like fried June bugs.

It was a very satisfying sound. The demon continued to summon aid as he did his best to destroy his host’s body with his claws.

“Hurry, Nate.”

Kylen was losing a lot of blood. The demon thrashed and slashed, cursing as Nate picked up the pace. The protective shield sizzled like bacon in a cast-iron pan as more and more of the imps hit it in their attempt to obey their master. You had to admire their loyalty, however misguided.

The demon halted in the center of the circle, making eye contact with Ruth. Smiling, he plunged one long talon into Kylen’s jugular, blood jetting out of his neck in rhythm with Kylen’s rapidly beating heart. The demon was abandoning its host.