Reaper (42 page)

“A hundred and five!” I exclaimed, fully worried now. “Ethan, can I please take you to the hospital?”

“No. I’ll take…a cold shower…to bring the fever down,” he mumbled.

“What if it were me?” I asked as I nervously raked fingers through my wet, messy hair. “Wouldn’t you be worried?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “But it’s not.”

“Please?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Obviously you’re not.” I jumped up and grabbed my cell phone. “What if I get a doctor’s opinion on this?”

“Don’t call your mom, Annie. It’s late.”

“I’ll call my dad.”

Ethan closed his eyes. “Your dad teaches anatomy.”

“He’s a doctor too. He used to do both. He quit his practice when I was in eighth grade. Supposedly to spend more time with Harry and me…” I shook my head, remembering the day Harrison got caught drinking at a party and my parents arguing it was a ‘cry for attention’ from them. Though our father’s work hours decreased by nearly fifty percent, his fatherly bonding didn’t increase.

“Your parents are over achievers,” Ethan tried to be amusing.

“Tell me about it.” I put the phone down. “Now, can we
please go?
”

“Fine,” Ethan huffed.

Two hours later I was sitting with Ethan in the ER. He was complaining and tugging at the IV inserted in his left arm.

“What’s taking so long?”

I shrugged, not admitting to feeling impatient myself. I took in the breath to speak right as the nurse came back in, telling us that the results from the blood work came back and that a doctor would be in to talk. My stomach twisted in knots. Ethan had the flu; why would we need to hear that from a doctor?

I put my hand in Ethan’s and hoped he couldn’t feel me shaking. Time slowly ticked by; I watched the IV fluid dripping down from the bag and counted the drops. Finally the doctor came in. He introduced himself as Dr. Brown, quickly assessed Ethan, asked him if he had traveled out of the country recently, and frowned.

“Does he have a disease?” I blurted, thinking of some horrible rain forest originated virus.

Dr. Brown shook his head. “You’re dehydrated,” he told Ethan. “But other than that, you are perfectly healthy on paper.” He motioned to the computer screen that showed Ethan’s blood work results.

“He’s not sick?” I asked, confused.

“I’d like to run a few more tests, if that is alright with you,” Dr. Brown said, carefully avoiding my question. Ethan objected, saying that if he was fine he should just go home. Dr. Brown advised against it and was able to easily convince Ethan to agree to more testing and to being admitted as a patient.

 
I followed them upstairs and waiting anxiously as another nurse got Ethan settled into his room. I smiled and patted his hand before sitting in an uncomfortable arm chair next to the bed. A young man came into the room and told Ethan that he was going to get another blood sample, this time from an artery to test the gasses in his system.

The results from that came back normal as well. When another doctor came into to talk to us, she said that no virus or bacteria was found in Ethan’s system. They weren’t sure what was making him so sick.

My stomach churned, but I knew I wasn’t getting sick. It was from the whirlwind of fear and anxiety that had suffocated my every waking thought. Ethan was in the hospital, and I knew that no doctor would ever find the cause of his illness. My body still screamed from the scrapper attack, which sent more waves of presentiment over me.

It wasn’t the first time a demon had sunk its claws into Ethan’s well being. Could a demon be behind this? I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up too when I wondered if Melcovel could drain all of Ethan’s energy until he died. Yes, the doctors and nurses would do everything they could to bring down Ethan’s fever and rehydrate him, but would it be enough?

“You can go home,” Ethan feebly told me.

“I’ll stay,” I responded. “I don’t mind.”

“You look tired,” he pressed.

“You look worse,” I retorted. “I’m staying.”

“Isn’t it past visiting hours?” Ethan asked the nurse.

She pressed a button on the IV pump and smiled. Long blonde hair was pulled up into a bun and freckles dotted her fair skin. She was young; this was probably her first job since nursing school. “Technically, yes,” she told us. “But we’re pretty lenient up here, as long as the visitors don’t cause a fuss or anything.”

That was not the answer Ethan wanted to hear. I ranked my fingers through my messy hair and tried to get comfortable, which was hard to do since my body had just gone through hell. Once the antinausea medicine kicked in, Ethan was able to fall asleep. I winced when I put the footrest of the chair out. Bending my knee in any way was painful. I eventually drifted to sleep myself, but was plagued with nightmares about scrapper demons and black magic.

I woke, my mind hovering in that strange place between alertness and sleep. A memory flashed in my brain, one I hadn’t had the luxury to ponder until now. At the Zodiac, the group of young hunters denied Ethan dating a witch because he ‘wouldn’t mess around with magic’. Julia told me that the Order wanted to work with witches. So, wouldn’t it make sense for Ethan to befriend a witch?

Cringing, I stood and left the room to find the visitor’s bathroom. On my way back to Ethan, the young nurse stopped me.

“Are you alright?” she asked carefully.

“Yeah,” I said, knowing that I couldn’t cover up the fact I was limping. “I fell off my horse yesterday. I’m just a little sore.”

She smiled. “You really can go home and rest.” She looked inside Ethan’s room. “He’s in good hands.”

“Thanks,” I told her. “I’ll stay for a little longer, if that’s ok.”

“Of course.”

I went back into the room and stiffly sat down and stayed until the sun came up. I turned the air conditioner on high in the car, blasting cold air in my face to keep from falling asleep while driving. I parked the Prius in the driveway and paused once I got out of the car. My body begged me to sleep, but my mind argued it would make much more sense to feed the horses now, allowing myself to crash on the couch for the rest of the morning.

I hobbled my way there, unlocked the door, and got hit from behind.
 
I fell into the door, smacking my face against the glass window. My shoulder hit the knob; pain rippled down through my arm. The snarly growl let me know it was a scrapper before I twisted around to see its ugly face.

“Great,” I muttered and lifted my arm. “Just freaking great.” I sent the demonic pest flying and tried to regain my footing. I pressed my hand down into a bed of rocks when pushing myself up. Ignoring the pain, I rose to my feet only to get jumped by another scrapper.

My heart raced. I was injured, so running to safety wasn’t an option. Hunter was in the house. And I had no weapons. If I could make it into the barn and slam the door shut, I’d be able to find something to shove into the scrappers’ hearts.

With my back to the door, I put up a shield of telekinetic energy and held the scrapper at bay. The one I had thrown angrily stomped over. Another cackled from a tree several yards away. Without taking my eyes off the scrappers in front of me, I reached behind and blindly felt for the door. After what seemed like an eternity, my fingers found the knob and twisted. I took a step back and tripped.

I landed hard on my back and lost the shield. I covered my head with my arms and braced for the attack. Something whooshed over me and let out a harrowing yell. The scrappers whimpered. I scrambled to my feet; my heart skipped a beat when I saw a reaper standing in front of, leaning forward ready to attack the scrappers.

Holy shit. Was it defending me? The reaper swung its clawed hand, slicing a scrapper across the chest. I blinked myself out of the stunned state I was stuck in and raced to get a pitchfork. The plastic prongs snapped when I drove it down onto a scrapper. I lifted the pitchfork again and rammed it into the demon’s stomach.

Somehow, Hunter had let himself out of the house. He leapt through the air, gracefully flying and tackling a scrapper. With one bite, his jaws crushed through the skull and the thing went limp. He sailed over the body and took out the bleeding scrapper I was fighting.

After shaking the scrapper’s body to make sure it was really dead, Hunter crouched and circled the reaper, who was knelt over the third scrapper’s body. Little whips of black energy floated from the scrapper to the reaper. A fierce growl escaped from Hunter’s mouth. The reaper snapped its head up.

I dropped the broken pitchfork. The reaper advanced on Hunter. His fur stood up and he showed his fangs, looking absolutely lethal.

“Stop!” I yelled, unsure exactly who I was yelling at. Hunter immediately subsided his attack and the reaper looked at me. “No fighting,” I ordered. “And don’t even think about taking anyone’s aura,” I warned the reaper. I let out a breath. “Thank you—both of you— for saving me,” I praised. The reaper moved closer and made a sound I could only describe as purring. Tentatively, I reached out and patted its head. The physical contact formed a connection between us.

The reaper was female and desperately sought a master. Her eyes went to the scrapper bodies, and she asked if she could take the remaining life force that hovered in the air.

“Uh, sure,” I said since I didn’t see the harm taking scrapper auras would do. If it fed her hunger and kept her from salivating while looking at Hunter, then it was worth it, right? While she was busy sucking the black energy, I mentally asked Hunter to follow me into the barn.

“I have no idea what to do,” I confessed to him. “I don’t think she’s going to hurt us.” Hunter agreed, and reminded me that she was still a demon. “I know,” I sighed. “If I kill her, will it piss off the others? I definitely won’t be their leader anymore, at least. Maybe…” I trailed off, thinking that I could cut ties with the reapers all together if I—

No!
Hunter scolded. I was injured. I was in no shape to start a fight with a bunch of reapers.

“What would I do without you?” I asked him fondly. I limped down the barn isle and turned on the hose. I filled up the horses’ water buckets, gave them grain, and let them out into the pasture. When we exited the barn, I saw the pleasant sight of the reaper peeling the skin off the scrappers. She didn’t eat it, but licked the goopy blood from the underside.

I shuttered. “That’s disgusting,” I involuntarily said. The reaper looked at me, and if it was possible, I’d say I hurt her feelings. “There are more bodies behind the barn,” I told her. “Actually,” I sighed. “I need to burn them. Can you, uh, drag these?” She nodded. “Thanks. Follow me.” Hunter took one scrapper and the reaper brought the other two. They added the bodies to the pile Hunter had made last night. I looked around and a manic laugh bubbled from my lips. The reaper and Hunter looked at me like I was crazy, which made me laugh more.

“Sorry,” I told them and help up a hand. “It’s just…you have to think of the situation.” I shook my head. “Never mind.” I slowly—and painfully—walked into the garage to retrieve a gas can, a lighter, and a stack of newspapers. I poured gas over the bodies, lit a piece of newspaper on fire and threw it onto the pile. The paper burned bright and then sizzled out.

“Damn it,” I swore. I was too tired to deal with this right now. As if she could sense my exhaustion, the reaper opened up her hand. A shimmery thread of multicolored light streamed from her boney fingers. It twisted in the air; muted sunlight reflected off tiny sparkles like prisms. The thread hovered in front of me. Without thinking of what I was doing, I reached for it.

The moment my fingers touched the aura, it absorbed into my skin. A jolt went through me, much like before, and I felt energized.

“Thanks,” I panted and shook myself. “Ok, let’s burn these bodies.” It took well over an hour to get the fire really going. Maybe I should have burned them in smaller piles...it was my first time burning a pile of dead bodies; I knew I was a noob. Once the bodies on top burned to a crisp, the bodies underneath didn’t ignite like I had hoped. It took a lot of telekinetic shoving to keep the fire burning.

The borrowed energy was running low. The reaper offered me more, but I declined. One, I wasn’t sure what—or who—it came from. And two, I was looking forward to passing out and not having to think about any of this craziness for a few hours.

I stared at the smoldering pile of ash and bone.
Maybe I should invest in a backhoe
, I thought. Digging holes to bury the remains was going to take a while. Thank God I didn’t have neighbors. I grabbed a shovel and started digging. Hunter moved next to me and started to dig a hole as well. After a few minutes of watching us, the reaper dropped down to her knees and, using her claws, began to dig a third hole. Since the bones were still hot, I telekinetically shoved them into the holes. In a group effort, we covered them with dirt and stomped down the ground. I picked up the empty gas can and pocketed the lighter. The reaper’s dark, beady eyes looked into mine.

“Uh, thanks for the help,” I told her. “You can go do, uh, happy reaper things now.” I nodded and awkwardly smiled. She tipped her head and looked at me with curiosity. I wiped the grin off my face; I doubted a reaper had ever seen anyone smile. After a bow and a few steps back while still staring at me, reaper turned and slinked off, disappearing into the trees.