Reap & Repent (18 page)

“Breathe it in, Ruth.”

He leaned down and gave her a full-on, no-messing-around, openmouthed kiss, and she felt the soul push into her. Ruth gagged and resisted until Deacon shifted and pressed his hard groin up against her core, and her thoughts turned somewhere far south of worry. Deepening the kiss, he added two roaming hands to the process. She gasped and suddenly felt her skin shrink two sizes too small for her body as a current raced through her, and he pushed the soul into her. When she was sure she would burst, Deacon broke off the kiss and collapsed back onto the bed, his eyes closed in exhaustion.

Remembering to breathe, she inhaled sharply and felt a little better. Her body relaxed, but it was still uncomfortably full. The strangest tingle teased at the back of her mind, beyond her conscious thoughts, like the niggling of a task left
undone. The soul tested the boundaries inside her and irritated like an itch she couldn’t quite reach. It was disconcerting.

She rubbed the back of her neck.

“You’ll get used to it. The oddness of the feeling will dissipate with time. It’s actually better when there is more than one inside you. They become more muted, not so bright and alive. One demands much more attention than the cacophony of several.”

“I can’t imagine ever carrying more than one.”

“Valkyries can carry hundreds,” he said, pulling her close. “In the heat of war or disaster, they have to. There aren’t enough reapers.”

“Is that why Kara was so easily killed? Was she full of souls?”

“Yes, it was during a great battle in Kosovo during World War One. Men were dying everywhere on both sides. All three of us were there that day. Kara kept collecting and collecting. The demon must have been watching us, biding his time. A dead valkyrie would be a prize kill because he could collect hundreds of souls at one time to take to Hell. They don’t say ‘War Is Hell’ for nothing.”

Deacon looked away, and then scrubbed a hand down his face, determined to continue.

“The demon found his opening and struck while we were all occupied. Kara was already weakened when the creature attacked, and she couldn’t defend herself. I tried to help, but the demon hit me so hard I lost consciousness. Kylen was carrying the least souls and was the strongest of the three of us. When I woke up he was gone. It wasn’t until later that I learned what had happened. After
Kara’s death, Kylen made the deal with the demon, and then carried Kara’s soul to Purgatory, bringing me with him so that I’d be under the protection of the détente. When he went topside, the demon inhabited him. I’ve been trying to find a way to free him ever since. Now, I’m afraid that the only way to free him may be death.”

Her heart ached for Deacon. He had lost two friends that day, and he suffered for it still. And last night, he’d fought with his friend, whose demon was intent on killing him.

Apparently, supernatural relationships were as messy and complicated as human ones. She peered at Deacon. His eyes were a bright blue-green again, a color she realized she was starting to love. She wondered whether the soul had colored her eyes gray.

He took her hand. “Go now, Ruth. The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back to me.”

She sat up and pulled her hair back into a rough ponytail as Deacon shuffled gingerly across the bed. He let his feet fall over the side, easing into a sitting position. She helped him up, letting him lean on her for support as they shuffled out into Nate’s living room.

Nate was sitting in his wing chair drinking coffee, which smelled like a piece of heaven in a cup. He was clearly waiting for them, and his aura radiated from him in spicy mustard waves. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that he was pissed. She couldn’t blame him. She wondered for a moment if he was angry
because they’d been making out in his bed, or if the whole strange situation had gotten to him. It didn’t take long to find out.

“Deacon.”

“Nate,” Deacon said as she led him over to the couch. Nate’s one-word greeting radiated so much anger. She knew where he was coming from because she was still on the same cruise ship of confusion herself.

The tension stretched taut between the two men for several uncomfortable seconds before Nate conceded.

“What the hell, Deacon? I want it all—the whole story. The
real
story. Don’t gloss it over and don’t leave anything out. I don’t care if the security of the universe depends on you not telling me… I want to know, and I want to know now. I’ve been doing shit for you on the side, no questions asked, for years. Years, Deacon. I deserve the truth.
All
of it.”

He was simmering, and Ruth wasn’t too sad that she was about to clear out.

You know it’s a bad turn of events when you’d rather go to Purgatory than have a hard conversation.

She shook her head and swallowed down her laughter. She didn’t think Nate would see the irony of the situation.

“Nate, you do deserve the truth,” Deacon said. “And I’m going to give it to you—all of it. But first Ruth has to take a trip. You need to open your circle of protection so that she can leave, and keep it open until she comes back. We have to be prepared to defend ourselves while the circle’s open. There are enemies
hunting us. You’re going to have to trust us just one more time, Nate. Have faith. We’re the good guys here.”

Ruth hoped that was true.

Nate cursed. “Who’ll protect Ruth?”

God bless him for thinking of her safety. She was grateful. It was shocking—and wonderful—that he would worry about her after everything she’d put him through. Nate was a good guy, too.

“She’ll be safe where she’s going. Let’s keep it safe here for when she gets back.”

Nate cursed again and closed his eyes, considering his options. After a long moment, he nodded and began to mutter an incantation. Ruth felt the air pressure in the room shift, and she knew that the door was open. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it.

Deacon gave her hand a squeeze. “Go, Ruth.”

She nodded and looked over at Nate. He really was worried for her, as well as for himself. She couldn’t blame him. It was a lot to absorb, and he still knew very little.

Hell, I’m in the same boat.

She envisioned the depot and felt the familiar pull work on her. She closed her eyes, letting herself snap through the consecrated subway all the way back to the belly of the beast.

Chapter Twenty-One

When she popped out into the middle of Purgatory, she felt like a groupie sneaking backstage at a rock concert. She looked around, nervous, half expecting a herd of reaper security guards to tackle her and escort her back out…or worse. She didn’t belong here, and she certainly didn’t know what the heck she was doing.

Talk about trial by fire.

Hoping that she’d attract less attention by moving than by standing around in everyone’s way, she started walking. She made her way through the hustle and bustle toward the angel, Rashnu, on the same end of the terminal where Deacon had taken her on their last visit. Wondering if it mattered which end of the terminal the souls were deposited on, she decided to go with the devil she knew. The depot was much more crowded than it had been last time. Reapers of every possible stripe—and species—jostled into her as they hurried by. Horror shimmered through her at each passing touch.

Souls traveled in gray streams, one right after another, against the ceiling, and then down long tunnels on both sides of the depot. Occasionally, one would fly up the main chimney like her father had. She made her way to the back of the queue, trying not to gawk at the diversity of the beings around her. She was definitely in the minority. Although the sex of most of the creature reapers was indeterminate, she seemed to be the only woman among the human reapers.

The line shuffled forward. She felt him before she saw him—a surge of pricking goose bumps crawled up her spine as his hot breath poured down the back of her neck.

“Deacon’s pet? Fancy meeting you here… And alone, too? Don’t tell me that Deacon has met with some tragic harm.”

Kylen.

“Nothing he can’t handle,” she said, before she remembered the no-talking plan.

“Hmm…last time I saw him he was being carted away on a stretcher. Given the way he tore up that chapel and how badly injured he was, I’m surprised they released him.”

The demon Kylen circled her, sucking in a deep breath. While he couldn’t touch her with the intent to harm her, intimidation appeared to be acceptable since he hadn’t yet been rendered into a pile of ash or anything. He stroked a loose lock of her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. Ruth flinched.

If not for his creepy eyes and talonlike fingernails, he looked human…handsome even. But there was no getting past the eyes and talons. She shuddered as he pushed the bulk of his body up against her.

“First time?” he asked huskily.

Ruth didn’t answer—she just shuffled forward, putting space between them. He eased up near her again, pressing against her back with the front of his body. He rubbed himself against her, letting her feel exactly how happy he was to see her.

“The first time is always the hardest, isn’t it, love? I could make it so much…more for you,” he whispered, his words bringing new prickly bumps to the surface of her skin.

She shrugged him off, trying to ignore him. She really did, but when he persisted, something fierce and unrelenting rose up in her. She reached back and ran her hand across the front of his jeans and over his hard erection. He hissed in surprise. She gripped him hard in her hand and then squeezed, twisting his business with all she had.

He gave out a little choked cough before breaking free and limping off into the crowd. If the salt had surprised him yesterday, this had shocked him even more. He didn’t make a scene, and no one appeared the wiser. It was a risky move given Purgatory’s no-violence rule, but she couldn’t stand having him near her for one more moment. She had gambled on him not wanting to make a scene.

She had gotten lucky. Real lucky. She shuffled forward, sighing in relief when she realized she was next in line. The foul creature in front of her, who resembled some sort of be-winged snake, deposited its cargo and slunk away. Ruth found herself peering up at the angel, who was waiting for her to approach like a child waiting for some sort of perverse Santa visit.

“The orphan! Your training must be going well if you have come alone and are bearing your first soul?”

She nodded, unsure if there had been an actual question in there. She stared down at her sneakers.

“Well, tell me all about it…your first time and all.”

Ruth hoped he was asking about the soul because she was so not going into all of the other firsts she had experienced in the past few days.

“It was fine, sir.”

Rashnu glared at her. She heard low grumblings from the line behind her, although none of the reapers had the gumption to speak up in protest. She had already taken more time than any of those who had gone before her.

“When I ask for details, child, I expect to get them. Luckily for you, there are dozens of wars and worldwide disasters happening. If I weren’t stretched so thin already, I’d make an example of you for your insubordination.”

She suppressed a “whatever.” She wasn’t sure how exactly she was being insubordinate, but she didn’t think arguing would win her any brownie points.

“Well? Spit it out.”

“Really, sir—it went fine, no problems.”

Rashnu’s face grew red, and he hissed, “Not your excuses, you imbecile, the soul! Spit. It. Out. Or shall I rip it from you.”

The eyes of every reaper on the terminal floor turned to her.

So much for lying low.

Deacon had pushed the soul into her. She had no idea how to reverse the process.

Ruth motioned for Rashnu to lean in closer and whispered, “Then you’ll have to take it, because I have no idea how to release it.”

“Very well.”

He placed a glowing hand on the top of her head and pushed a brilliant bolt of energy through her that filled her sight with tangerine light. A great tearing ripped loose inside of her. Coughing and choking, she felt Rashnu wrench the soul from her. She opened her mouth to scream from the pain, but the soul poured out instead, streaming toward one of the side tunnels in a column of hazy gray smoke.

“Be gone,” Rashnu bellowed. His face softened despite his tone. “Tell Deacon I’ll be requesting a private chat with him about this…soon.”

Ruth nodded. Hoping that Deacon wasn’t going to get in some kind of trouble, she made her way back through the depot toward the stone marker where she had landed. If she was expected to be some big bad reaper, then she was going to need more than half a day of training.

The terminal was dense with reapers, and she edged along the outside stone wall, trying to stay out of the main flow of traffic. Relieved to be free of the soul, her legs were weak and shaky. She’d need to load up on calories again when she got back to Nate’s.

As she skirted the edge of a tunnel, so intent on her destination that she wasn’t paying attention to the people—and creatures—around her, something suddenly grabbed her arm, ripping her into the dark crevice.

She tried to scream, but her throat was raw from the soul extraction, and the sound that escaped her was inaudible. Dragged farther into the darkness, she was slammed against the wall, her head cracking against it with such violence that
her vision blurred. One taloned hand clamped down hard over her mouth. Even in the darkness, it could only be one person:
Kylen.

He pressed her into the wall, holding her so tightly that she could manage only a cursory struggle. She was unwilling to give up, but her legs betrayed her anyway, and she slid down the wall, scraping her back bloody.

The demon jerked her up straight again, grinding her into the stone, extracting a small cry from her. Screwing up what little resolve she had left, she concentrated hard on pushing him away. She felt the warmth grow inside her until a faint electric-blue glow emanated from her. The glow expanded, sparking and sizzling with power. The demon Kylen hissed but held on to her.