Reap & Reveal (The Reaper Series Book 3) (10 page)

Ruth had spent the past several months searching for her birth parents. The traits required to become a reaper were genetic and at least one parent needed to carry the genes in order for them to develop in a useful way in the child. Ruth had no idea from whom she might have inherited the gift until she stumbled across a clue just before her house and the binder full of answers was torched.

She’d read the file. Once. But at least the name was etched into her memory.

Elaina Carter, birth mother.

That was her one lead. She’d exhausted hundreds of ancestry sites from her prison bed and made dozens of unfruitful inquiries, even a few international calls.

There were many, many Elaina Carters in the world, but none had intrigued her enough to send Deacon on a visit to scope things out. There was a soccer mom in Rhode Island, a massage therapist in Detroit, a chiropractor from Amarillo and seventeen others in the US who had died within her lifetime. Each, by all accounts, was completely unremarkable as far as potential reaper attributes went. Deacon
had
been able to determine none of the deceased were eligible candidates. Thanks to his promotion to Powers he could travel freely between the realms at will. None of the sorted souls had been reapers.

Unfortunately, most of his time had to be spent tracking down demons and a fallen angel instead of Ruth’s potential birth mothers. Still, she had whittled down the list of eligible candidates. There were several hundred left for her to sort through.

The idea that the name on the paperwork could have been false was not one she allowed herself to consider. Her adoptive father had died when she was very young and her adoptive mother within the past year. Deacon had actually reaped her mother’s soul, which was what had begun the chain of events leading to her current state of affairs.

While her mother was alive, Ruth hadn’t wanted to add stress to their estranged relationship by searching for her biological mom. At this point, she was questioning the merit of that decision. Even with her superb research skills, tenacious work ethic and copious amounts of time, she didn’t feel very hopeful for a breakthrough.

With the baby on the way, however, it seemed all the more important for her to pin down her lineage. If there was an Elaina Carter out there with her DNA coursing through her body, Ruth was determined to find her.

Temperance cocked her head to alert status and cut her eyes to the door moments before Olivia walked in unannounced. She was like an angel ADT that girl.

“Hey, the guys are gone. Wanna break out?” Olivia asked.

Ruth grinned, scooted her computer off her lap and started to swing her legs off the bed, but Temperance was on her like white on rice.

“Temperance, I haven’t been out of bed except to pee all day. Hell, you can carry me if it will make you feel better.” Ruth hated being carried unless it was to bed and by Deacon. Still, if it helped her to achieve her goal, what was a little humiliation between friends?

Motionless, the angel actually seemed to consider it for a moment. Maybe she was wearing down just as much as Ruth. God knew misery loved company. Instead, Temperance shook her head no.

“Can Maeve come here?”

“Not yet, she’s butt naked. She managed to shower and clean up.” Olivia held out the armload of clothes she carried. “I’m taking over a few things. I’ll see how she is. She was pretty out of it earlier. Maybe the shower helped her feel human again.”

Ruth giggled. “Not sure that would be an improvement for her. Being a reaper and all.”

“True enough. I’ll be back. Hopefully, with Maeve in tow.” Olivia spared Temperance a glare before she walked off.

The angel was making no friends with her silent but deadly act. So much for girl power. Solidarity. There was no give to that girl at all.

Ruth watched Olivia leave and then threw her head back against the pile of pillows that was propping her up.

Four and a half more months.

Something had to give.

Chapter Thirteen

Nate was on a roll. After Zak’s refueling, he felt amazing. Despite his distracted mind, he helped track and terminate a dozen demons himself. Camael, as expected, was on hiatus. He hoped the bastard was so distraught over having lost Maeve that he’d crawl back into his hellhole and die.

The odds were not in his favor.

Bo lapped at a pool of blood oozing from one of the hosts, sniffing excitedly in hopes of picking some bones clean.

“Not yet, buddy. I called in reinforcements.”

He’d damaged the hosts enough to render them immobile, but he didn’t want the demons bailing before they could be properly contained. All of the members of the Authority, except Nate, of course, could vacuum the bastards up and dispose of them permanently.

Inappropriate as the moment was, all he could think about was Maeve’s naked body. She was fantastic. Even broken and bruised, he was ashamed to admit, he was more than attracted to her. He wanted her. All of her.

He scrubbed his hand down his face, trying to erase any evidence of his deviant thoughts. What he didn’t need was a reaper intervention, good or bad, on his behalf. He’d work his shit out himself, but not until Maeve’s feet were firmly planted in reality again and she was well.

God, how long was that going to take? His cock twitched.

Betraying piece of shit.

He was an honorable guy. Practically a damned Boy Scout, but it had been more than eleven months since he’d been with a woman. His virgin card had probably been reset.

After the epic blow up of his last relationship, he’d sworn off anything serious. It was hard enough dating on his erratic EMT schedule, so when he hooked up with Sarah, another EMT, it seemed like a match made in Heaven. She wasn’t bothered by his hours, but it wasn’t long before she wanted to settle down, move in and take over.

Of course, she hadn’t known about his Wiccan connections. It wasn’t something he advertised and it had never come up in conversation. Like it would. This was the freakin’ Bible belt. They didn’t suffer witches. Meth heads, sure, but not witches.

Like his politics, he kept his religion to himself. Of course, Wicca was more than a religion. It was a lifestyle and a way of being with the natural world. To Nate, religion and Wicca were a combo deal. Mostly he considered himself a Christian witch and nothing made jaws drop around a work lunch table faster than a mention of that. The next thing that happened was that eyes glazed over and folks suddenly had somewhere else to be.

Whatever. He’d made that mistake once. A long time ago. And he’d learned to keep his personal shit to himself. Being involved with the reapers both confirmed his beliefs and filled him with a whole host of new questions.

As soon as these demons were processed, he’d finally be able to ask some of them.…

“Nice work.” Samkiel walked toward him, a Cheshire grin across his face.

“Somebody had to pick up your slack.”

“Touchy for a guy who just got his girl back.”

“She’s not my girl. She’s my partner. Speaking of which, where’s yours? Ragu out getting his beauty sleep somewhere?”

Samkiel clasped his hands together and let the energy build in preparation to vacuum the demons and souls as he counted the number of bodies thrashing on the floor of the warehouse.

“Twelve. Not bad. One more and you would have had a baker’s dozen. Ragu had fifteen.”

Nate didn’t bother to reply. You just couldn’t out smartass Samkiel.

“Ready?” He drew his short sword and went to work separating heads from bodies.

The demons streamed out in dark gray plumes.

An orange glow emanated from Samkiel and engulfed the bodies, drawing forth first the demons, and then the poached souls the bastards had stolen. Samkiel absorbed them into his body and immediately began to fade, bringing the motley bunch to Purgatory.

Samkiel nodded as he dissipated. “See ya on the other side.”

Bloody hell, did everyone know his business now?

Nate concentrated on his destination. It was a bit after 4:00 a.m. He prayed that by sunrise, he would have at least some answers for and about Maeve.

He felt the tug of the consecrated subway as he flashed to Purgatory.

***

Maeve maneuvered around the tiny bathroom and pulled the jeans and T-shirt over the underwear Olivia had brought for her. Even buttoned, the size-six waistband gaped on her. Olivia had assured her they were in fact her own clothes, retrieved from her sparse apartment by Nate and stored after her abduction. They didn’t even look familiar. Regardless, she was thankful for them, especially if she was going have to share quarters with Nate, who was apparently rendered mute by nudity.

She’d spent most of the day curled in a ball on the bed, drifting in and out of sleep. Her dreams had been filled with nonsense, but at least a few gears had clicked into place. The food had helped a lot. She had eaten everything Olivia brought her, which had seemed to be a never-ending supply.

It wasn’t enough. While she felt stronger, she was far from herself and her head was killing her.

So many of her memories still evaded her, but at least she no longer feared for her sanity. The best part was she was completely alone inside her head and body. A luxury she’d never fully appreciated until today. Fear still smoldered in her heart and a knowledge that she couldn’t explain or qualify seethed inside her.

Something terrible was about to happen.

Olivia, who wanted her to go to Ruth’s trailer for some girl time, was waiting outside the bathroom door. Maeve was restless to get out of the trailer, but she didn’t feel up to the third degree.

Maeve was confused about a lot of things, but she was rock-solid sure that she never had nor ever would have “girl time” of her own volition. Maybe she could feign a renewed bout of weakness and avoid the whole thing. Of course, then they’d tell the rest of the reapers when they got back and, worse yet, Nate seemed like a mother hen. She’d never have a moment’s peace. She longed for the good old days when all the reapers she knew…reaped. The rules had been simple then. No one got possessed and everyone got exactly what they deserved. Rashnu, the Purgatory sorting angel, saw to that.

This demon chasing business was bullshit.

She hung her head in defeat.

Like a bandage. Rip it off.

Maeve knew she was screwed when she walked out of the bathroom and Olivia’s face twisted into a smile. That girl was not going to take no for an answer.

“You look great!” Olivia gathered up Maeve’s dirty clothes.

Maeve nodded.

“Ready to get out of here for a while? Maybe it will help jog your memory.” Olivia pushed open the door and walked down the steps.

Maeve followed reluctantly, but came to an abrupt stop at the doorway when she struck into an invisible wall. Her wrist itched beneath the hemp bracelet and she watched in horror as it came to life, writhing around her arm.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad, honest.”

Maeve tried another tentative step through the door with the same result. First confusion, then anger began to percolate inside her. No fucking way was she going to be trapped in this trailer. She had just been freed and was not about to accept captivity again, not in any form. She looked down at the bracelet.

Magic.

Resisting the urge to tear the trailer apart, she turned and headed for the closet from which Nate had retrieved his weapons earlier. An impressive array of blades lined the shelves. Any would do for the task at hand. She clutched hold of a six-inch dagger and slid it between the bracelet and her skin, then drew it back against the rope to cut it off.

When it didn’t slice through as expected, she got a better angle and tried again. Nothing. She withdrew the blade and grabbed hold of the rope pull attached to the window blinds. Stretching it taut, she drew the blade through it, slicing it in half like hot butter.

The blade was not defective.

Olivia climbed back up the steps and into the trailer. “What’s wrong, Maeve? What are you doing with that thing?”

Fear filled Olivia’s blue-gray eyes. Maeve couldn’t blame her. If she were facing an unstable, pissed off reaper, she’d be scared, too. She flipped the blade around in her hand and presented the dagger to Olivia.

“Take it.”

Olivia reached out, unsure and gripped the handle of the dagger.

Maeve held out her wrist. “Cut this string off me.”

Curious, Olivia stepped forward, studying the band. “Is it special? Maybe we could just untie it.”

“No. Cut it off.”

Slipping her fingers around one of the knots, Olivia pulled the band as far away from Maeve’s skin as possible. Sliding the blade into the gap, she attempted to slice through the cord. Unsuccessful, her jaw set and she went at it with a renewed vigor, sawing between the knots. Not even a hair of it frazzled off.

“Huh. That’s some tough twine.”

“Not really. It’s been imbued with some sort of magic.”

“What?”

“Some sort of spell. I can’t leave the trailer.”

“Oh, no.”

“What do you mean, ‘oh, no’? Do you know who did this to me?”