Dark Kiss Of The Reaper (6 page)

She tipped her head to look at him. “You’re the most interesting man I’ve met in a long time.” She laughed, catching what she’d just said. “You’re not really a man, though, are you?”

His grin held a hint of wickedness that spun heat deeper into her bones. “Oh, I am a man, Sara Donovan. Be very sure of that.”

Chapter Five

Never had Azrael wanted to harm Kol more than he did now. Sara had come through Kol’s “testing” without injury, but that didn’t lessen Azrael’s need to punish his brother. Somehow, somewhere, Kol would be made to understand his indiscretion.

Azrael moved his head a few inches, burying his nose in her hair, and inhaled. She was perfection. Sweet, opinionated, unafraid.

He no longer cared why the Fates allowed her to see him. All that mattered was that she did. And she wasn’t afraid of him.

Not so far anyway.

Pallidus descended. Azrael wrapped his arms tighter around Sara, knowing what lay below would not be pleasant.

Puffs of black smoke drifted past. The faint tang of sulfur tinged the air. A sharp whistle to their left, then a bright flare of light and sound.

The smoke cleared in patches, revealing the battlefield it hid. Rubble littered the streets. Bombed and blackened vehicles. Broken glass. A child’s shoe.

Sara stiffened, but kept silent, pressing deeper into his embrace.

Pallidus came to rest on a patch of unbroken street, his hooves clipping against the pavement.

Sara’s fingers dug into his arm. “Why are we stopping here?”

“To reap a soul.” He dismounted, then offered her his hand.

She hesitated.

“Are you afraid?”

“No.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

Gunfire popped in the distance. She flinched. “Yes, I’m afraid. This is a war zone. I can tell that much.” A quick glance around and her gaze returned to him. Tentatively, she took his hand. “Nothing can happen to me, right?”

He nodded, absorbed in the pleasure of her willing hand in his. “I promise.”

She slid to the ground beside him, staying very close.

A dark, fast-moving shadow swooped over them. She ducked, hugging tight against him. More hooves clattered on the pavement. “You said your brother was going to leave me alone.”

“That isn’t Kol. See?” He gestured toward the smoky gray stallion. “His horse isn’t black.”

She pulled back to look for herself. “Great. A new one. How many brothers do you have?”

“Only two. Chronos is a Timekeeper.”

“And that means?”

“He reaps the souls of those who’ve reached their allotted end but have earned no special consideration or condemnation.”

Ahead of them, Chronos dismounted and turned toward them. Sara sucked in a ragged breath, proof to Azrael that he wasn’t the only Reaper she could see in true form. At work, Chronos most resembled the human idea of a Reaper, a skeleton cloaked in dark robes. Beneath his voluminous hood, shadows concealed all but the bottom half of a skull. Neither Azrael nor Kol were capable of assuming that form, just as Chronos couldn’t assume the visceral forms unique to either of them.

Her body became one solid line pressed to his. He eased an arm around her waist, hoping to soothe her fright. She rewarded him with an almost imperceptible softening.

“Azrael.” Chronos moved in their direction.

“Brother...” Azrael nodded to his brother then tipped his head at Sara, hoping to make Chronos understand the affect of his appearance.

“Ah.” Flesh filled in over the bone. As he approached, he reached up and brushed his hood back, revealing his now human face.

Sara exhaled. “Your brothers are so freaking weird,” she whispered.

Azrael stifled a smile. She had no idea.

Chronos stopped in front of them. He stared at Sara but spoke to Azrael. “This is the one? Interesting that you’ve chosen to bring her with you. Pretty, isn’t she?”

“I can hear you, you know. And see you.” Sara stood a little taller.

Chronos smiled and nodded to Azrael. “You’re right. The Fates have it out for you.”

“She saw Kol, too,” Azrael added. “Saw his eyes.”

Surprise registered briefly on Chronos’s face. “And she didn’t—”

“I stepped in before it was too late.”

A pair of spiders scuttled out from the cowl of Chronos’s hood to mend a frayed edge, then retreated. Sara muttered something under her breath he couldn’t quite make out.

“Good that you did. I have work.” Chronos pulled his hood back up, the flesh melting off his hands as he did. “Time waits for no one.”

He strode off in the opposite direction of Azrael’s waiting soul.

“That was completely bizarre,” Sara said. “Not to mention gross and creepy.”

Azrael opened his arm toward the way they need to travel. “It must be very hard to understand all of this.”

Sara shook her head. “Your brother is infested with bugs. What part don’t I get?”

“Those creatures are part of him.”

“Great. What’s your secret?” She lifted the edge of his robe. “I hate spiders, so if there’s anything under there I should know about, tell me now.”

Azrael bit his tongue. This was neither the time nor the place for witty repartee. “Come. A soul needs me.”

* * *

The building they entered was dark enough that it took Sara’s eyes a moment to adjust. Worn rugs, woven of scraps, covered the cement floor. Two wooden chairs provided the only seating. A few faded magazine pages hung pinned to the wall. Through a slim opening, the edge of thin mattress was visible, pushed up against a back wall. Was this a home, then?

Another explosion shook the walls. Bits of dust and a few chunks of debris rained down, but Sara didn’t feel a thing. The fragments seemed to pass right through her.

Azrael gestured to the opening. She went ahead, watching as he came behind her. His wings folding tighter to his back as he passed through, but they still scraped the narrow passage. His eyes focused beyond her.

Covered with a tattered blanket, a young man lay on the mattress, his eyes closed, hands crossed over his body. His shirt and vest were dirty and torn, his face unshaved for days. An older man crouched on the floor beside him, rocking back and forth, praying softly in an unknown tongue.

“His father,” Azrael said, gesturing toward the older man with a tip of his head. “He won’t leave his son while he still lives, even though this area isn’t safe and his wife and younger son wait for him in another village.”

“He can’t hear us or see us?” she whispered.

“No. Right now, we exist on a different plane.”

She tried not to think about what that meant exactly. “Why doesn’t he just carry his son out of here?”

Azrael didn’t have to answer the question. The father pulled the blanket back.

A rusty stain covered the mattress beneath the younger man’s torso. His clothing was torn away, revealing a dark, angry wound. The father dipped a rag in a bowl of water, rung it out and gently wiped at the injury. His son moaned.

Sara put her hand to her mouth. Liquid heat burned her eyes. “He can’t move him. Would the son...pass on his own anyway?”

“Yes.” Azrael’s wings unfurled as much as possible in the low-ceilinged room. “But it is better that I take the son now, sparing him further pain and setting the father free to reunite with his remaining family.”

He looked at her, holding her gaze with his dark one. “You understand this? What I do?”

She nodded. She understood perfectly. He was truly the Angel of Death. The Reaper of Mercy. And knowing who he was only made her like him that much more. A man who put the needs of others first. Who cared about people’s pain and suffering.

So his brothers were scary and creepy. Manda’s younger brother worked as a female impersonator and she didn’t have a problem with it. Sara could learn to deal.

The father finished tending his son and recovered him, returning to his prayerful rocking. In the distance, gunfire echoed like corn popping.

Azrael stepped away from her and stood beside the father. He reached down and took the son’s hand, pulling a wavering, transparent likeness of the son to his feet. The likeness stared at Azrael, then at his father. He mumbled something, nodded to Azrael, and then drifted into nothing.

The father’s head came up. The rocking stopped. He laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Emir?” He shook his son gently. “Emir?” His voice was louder this time.

He laid his head to his son’s chest and went very still. After a few moments, he closed his eyes and began to weep.

Azrael turned, blocking her sight with his wings. “Our time here is up.”

Sara rose up on her tiptoes, trying to see the father. “Will he be okay? Will he get out of here safely?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see the future, only what I’m given.” He lifted his hand toward the doorway. “We must go.”

Pallidus was right where they’d left him. This time, Azrael helped Sara up first, then settled in behind her. She wanted to say something to him, to tell him that even though everything he’d shown her had been horrific, she understood that he wasn’t responsible for the people’s deaths. She saw clearly what his role was and how good he was. How kind.

But as they ascended, she just couldn’t find the words. None of the sentences forming in her head seemed to fully capture what she felt, or what she wanted to tell him about everything she’d seen. And the way she understood who he was and what he did.

Maybe he knew. Maybe words weren’t necessary.

She leaned back a little, just enough to feel the hard wall of muscle behind her. Ray always told her she was a lousy communicator. That he never understood what she was thinking.

Clouds spread out like a field of snow beneath them. No way of telling how quickly this experience would end.

“Azrael?”

“Yes?” His voice sounded from near her ear, as though his head was dipped to be closer to her. One simple word and she nearly shivered with the delicious things it did to her. He spoke it so it meant a million more things. Like he was offering himself to her.

She dismissed the heady fantasy that a being like this could want her. He could have any woman. Probably did. Still, she wouldn’t give up this opportunity since she’d had so few recently.

“Thank you...for taking me with you. It wasn’t easy to see a lot of what you showed me, but I understand now. About you. And what you do.” There was so much more, but she couldn’t bring herself to say how wonderful it would be to see him again without sounding like some foolish, lovesick teenager and she really didn’t want to look foolish in front of him.

He was silent for longer than she’d expected. Crap. Had she said something to offend him?

“I’m glad,” he said, instantly relieving her. “I apologize if my brothers frightened you.”

She laughed softly. “You can’t choose your family.”

“Sometimes you can.”

Tipping her head, she glanced up. He was looking straight ahead, his eyes unreadable. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “We’re almost back.”

The clouds rose up around them, obscuring her view. When they cleared, Pallidus stood in the hospital hallway where they’d started out.

Azrael slid down and held out his hands to help her. She reached for him, settling her hands on his solid shoulders, his hands grasping her waist. Bittersweet warmth filled her in that moment knowing they’d already begun to say goodbye.

The time they’d just spent together had been interesting a way she could never explain to any of her friends. More than that, the sense of calm she felt being with him...no man had ever made her feel that way.

No man.

Her hands slipped from his shoulders and down his arms as her feet touched linoleum. How amazing those eyes were...obsidian and silver and magic. His hands stayed at her waist, which was fine with her. Death was much warmer than she’d have guessed.

“I guess this is goodbye then.” She bent her head to stare at his chest and the weave of his robe.

His grip loosened. “Only if...yes, I guess it is.” His hands fell away.

She looked up as her hands went to her sides. “I won’t see you anymore?”

Lines bracketed his mouth. “I don’t know how long your ability to see me will be allowed.”

“Allowed? Who’s allowing me to see you now?” She propped her fists on her hips.

“The Fates.” He rolled his eyes heavenward, shaking his head in obvious disgust.

“You mean like the Greek mythology Fates?”

“Something like that, yes.” He sighed.

“Are you telling me they’re real, too?”

He nodded. “Unfortunately.”

She raised her brows. “Not your favorite people, I take it?”

“Let’s just say we don’t always see eye to eye.”

Sara tipped her head back. “We don’t either.” That got her a smile. A bright, knee-melting smile.

“And yet you might be my most favorite person of all.”