by Dany Stone
Except, you know, this fucking sucks god balls.
“There’s special going on at the Thirsty Monkey tonight.” Bo follows a step behind me. “Drinks on the house for all government workers. We could always close up here and head over to—”
“I would rather be trapped in the Fracture.” I test another door. Pulling harder this time. The door creaks, on the verge of yielding, but a lock rattles on the other side of the door. Would it have hurt Death to offer us a fucking key before sending us out?
Bo adds his weight to the door. “You’re lucky the gods blessed me with muscles as well as beauty. I’ll have this open in no time.”
Sure he will. I leave him wrestling with the locked door, and try the next. With each step the stench only grows stronger.
I follow the thin strip of boards leading across an unsettled floor, water flowing like a curse beneath my feet. It would take only a crack in the wood to send me tumbling into the graywater.
My night’s bad enough already, thank you.
The walkway leads through a series of pools, boats for carrying out shipment lashed to poles like criminals feared to escape in the night. The walkway is shaky, far less secure than should be required in a tower of this size.
An area that is little used.
The perfect spot for crime.
Or a little bit of law-stretching reaping.
After all, I am legal, licensed in a profession declared a benefit to the World Peace. It’s just — let’s just say tonight’s target needs to be kept under the radar.
She’s the first target I’m supposed to bring in alive.
I grab at a boat stern to steady myself, but the wood is rotted, splinters cracking off in my hand. More likely to drown me than transport me. I curse under my breath. Release the wood and use the scythe to catch my balance. My senses exploded with overload at the release of earthy smells mingled with death and putrid water.
Enough smells to distract from the source of the death-scent.
We were supposed to be in and out, a rapid-fire invasion. I don’t have time to sniff out each corner, find out what’s going here.
A few more minutes of delay and Lux Nightshade will be gone.
Bo follows behind me, slow and silent as befits an angel apprentice. There is comfort in his presence, much as I’d never admit it. Would have been still better if Death had sent reinforcements, instead of entrusting this mission to one overtired reaper and forcing me to recruit my brother as an illegal sidekick.
Would have been a fucking dream if he had taken care of it himself.
Night birds shriek through a dome opening two stories above us, dark wings cutting across the silhouette of the moon. The phone’s light shifts and dims in Bo’s grip, casting my shadow before me in a jagged stretch that reaches up the walls.
The shadow of a monster.
I look away.
“The smell is getting worse.” Bo edges closer to me. Protective or just feeling solitary? Either way, it’s irritating enough to make me want to scream. He’s way too close, a moving chaos of uniform and weaponry and phone light. I clench my teeth to keep back the irritation rising up my throat.
I step back from him.
Just as something stirs in the far left corner of the warehouse.
My scythe is in position in an instant, a cold, sharp brush of metal. Arms drawn back. Ready to strike.
Beside me, Bo unlocks his holster.
“Who’s there?” I call. Emotionless, like fear is a sensation I’ve never experienced.
There’s no response.
Not in words.
Only the jagged stretch of a shadow rising up the wall to meet mine.
A figure rising from the stacks of barrels lining the corner.
I can’t see a face, I can’t see if they’re armed, I see nothing but the shift of movement cast along the wall.
This is no dead body.
“Bo. Your phone!”
With his free hand, he adjusts the light, but the shadow has already moved. Away from the wall.
A dark shadow disappears behind the row of barrels.
No, no, no. They can’t be gone this fast— there’s no way they —
“Behind you.” Bo’s hands curl around my shoulders, a quick twist back, and it’s all I can do to stay on my feet in sync with the movement. My scythe spins in my hands, an instinctive twist to meet the coming action I feel.
Movement I feel rather than see as a gust of wind passes me.
A gust of wind that carries heat and the taste of blood.
Human.
Not spirit.
“Stop where you are.” I jerk free from Bo’s grip, shove my scythe under one arm. The tip carefully tucked where it can’t puncture an unexpected soul.
I can’t afford an extra body count tonight.
Pounding footsteps are my only answer, a crash of heavy shoes against the weak support of wood.
I slam a booted foot upwards, but there’s no expected contact with solid flesh. My foot passes through solid air.
They’re already on the way to the door.
“Looks like we aren’t the only one here for the prize,” Bo drawls. He draws his gun, a click of sound.
Really.
He’s just drawing his gun now?
“Would you focus on the—”
A body slams into my back. Hands grappling for my neck. I’m being driven forward by an unexpected force, strong enough to momentarily freeze me. Instincts kick in and I drive a foot back into my attacker’s leg. Hook my foot around their knee and fling them forward. But I’m already too late. They already have an arm hooked around my neck, a stranglehold of a grip that cuts away my breath, sets my head spinning. The warehouse floats in and out of focus. I have to get to my scythe, get out of here before —
The hold snaps from my neck. A low, strangled growl like that of an injured animal, darkening into a growl of fury. Then Bo is on me, pushing me back, a blur of defensive attacks in the glow of his orb. Then my attacker is on their feet, stumbling back into darkness.
Bo rolls off of me, the blood on his uniform sticking to my bare arm. I pull myself free and drag myself up, body clenched with the pain the effort costs me. My scythe is pressed into my arm, dangerously close to piercing skin.
“Are you alright?” He helps me rise, but I shake him away before he can touch my scythe.
“I’m fine.” I shake my shoulders in spite of the blunt accompaniment of pain the movement brings. “But they sure as hell better not be.”
Footsteps disappear down the corridor leading past the tunnel of doors.
Small.
Light.
Moving fast.
They aren’t even limping like they’re injured.
Of all the —
“Spread out.” I scramble to my feet. “We need to stop them before they get out.”
I move toward the exit, but Bo grabs my arms. Tugs me gently back. “I’ll take them down. You find the body.”
His touch is too gentle, like I’m a fragile blossom and the least effort will shred my petals away from the base. I’m a reaper, not a warrior, and they all know it. Know it no matter how much I posture.
For once, I don’t allow myself to protest. Simply nod and step back, fingers tight around my belt. Holding on like feeling strong is enough to make me invincible.
Bo gives me a quick nod before replacing his orb in the belt. In seconds, he’s disappeared out the main exit, while moonlight snatches at the darkness around me before the door shuts and closes me in once more.
The silence of the warehouse screams at my senses.
Every blink of silence filled with the memory of Schray’s screams.
The terror in her eyes.
As I let them take her.
The one I had sworn to protect.
Torn apart by Supernatural crims to satisfy their bloodlust.
Not now, not now! I have to stay alert, can’t afford weakness. Can’t afford to destroy myself more than I al
ready have.
Get done. Get out of here.
A quick sweep on the levels and I can catch up with Bo, hopefully while he has the attacker in tow. Then a few hours of filling out paperwork for Death, and we can call it a night. Catch some sleep before resuming the pretense of normal life.
No reason for Death to even suspect I involved Bo.
I turn on my heel and stride for the stairway tucked into the corner of the warehouse. It bends with the curve of the wall. Streaks of moonlight breaking through the cracks between the beams.
As I climb, my memory only hears her screams.
My breath hindered by the memory of a charred body and a sordid wind. Of empty eyes and wings torn from a bleeding back. Of crippling pain and even more crippling fear.
It isn’t the smoke that leaves my eyes smarting as I turn away.
Focus. You have to focus.
I exit the stairway and enter the second floor.
Moving into the heart of Lucaw Tower.
Three
Lux
Shards of magic slap against my face, the hiss of a current that hates my intrusion. I pull myself up and over the side rails of the stairway leading out of the gala room.
Teeth clenched to keep back the scream of pain rising in my throat.
You can do this you can do this —
I descend the stairs at a breakneck speed, hands clenched around the object I hid inside my vest before the heist.
Too important of a step to risk losing it now.
The stairs end at a small hallway, and I pull myself up onto the beams that straddle the ceiling.
The shield is lower than it seemed in the gala room, a sparking web of blue flame that barely avoids reaching me. A veil that mercifully covers the officials blinded by Aiden’s explosion spell as they stagger through the chaos, a wild attempt to find normalcy.
We only have minutes before the effects wear off.
And there’s no guarantee they haven’t already discovered the Shroud is gone.
“Lux.” Aiden catches up with me, breathless, and together we hoist him up to the ledge beside me. He passes the Shroud into my grip and my fingers ache from the force of magic trapped inside its thin folds.
Magic that has been bound for centuries.
We quickly place the Shroud inside the prepared protective shield.
“Looks like we’re ready if we run into any zombies,” Aiden says against my ear and I bite back a laugh. Relief — strong, ridiculous relief — running like a drug through my veins.
We did it.
We fucking did it.
“You killed it.” Aiden’s hand reaches mine in a quick high-five, his smile is suddenly more real than it’s been all night.
The kind of human touch, human connection, I only want to avoid.
“Thanks.” I glance at the faint red scar pulsing across his forehead. Look away. “So did you.”
He’s not like Tigo.
He’s not like Tigo.
He’s not. He’s not. He’s not—
I tuck the Shroud away, and there’s a faint hiss as it brushes against the protective silver lining of its case. The only way to keep the magic from stretching its tendrils around around our bones and contaminating us.
We learned our lesson from the bones of the first thieves who attempted to steal the Shroud.
“Ready?” Aiden holds his hand out to me, but I push away without touching him. Edge along the beam until we’re across the high ceiling and in sight of the emptied corridor below. Keeping out of range of the security cameras, although it hardly matters if they catch me on camera.
It’s not like they’d actually see my true face.
I drop down on the other side of the wall and Aiden follows me, one hand on his hidden holster while we scan the emptied corridor.
One more corridor and we’ll be at the elevators leading into the warehouse on the bottom floor of the tower.
Our first backup meeting point.
I can only hope Ias hasn’t been discovered and our transport is still prepared for a speedy exit.
Because it’s only a matter of seconds before the angels –and their backups— break through the shield.
And take us down.
We swerve around a bar, the bartenders frozen and motionless as the dead under the power of Aiden’s spell. “Wait a hot damn.” Aiden swerves back. Snags two Warbombs from the counter, his frantic grab knocking a third glass to the ground. Glass and gin splash over the carpet and onto Aiden’s suit. He makes a face and keeps running, the bastard. A second later, he’s pressing a Warbomb on the Rocks between my fingers, leaning in so close to my ear so any rogue cameras can’t lip-read what he’s saying.
“You up to this?”
Numbly I take the drink from him. Whisper “yes” even though I know it’s a lie.
Want nothing more than to go back to the Undone and hide.
Hoard the hours I have left.
Hours? Shit, make that minutes.
The Citizen Terrorist Control can hardly be expected to act positively after the hijacking of their most famous artifact.
They’ll have our heads on the walls of HAVOC Pen within hours.
Our magic drained from our veins like blood.
Yeah, I didn’t even need that incentive to keep running.
I feel him still watching me, unconvinced, and I resent the way he can read through me, the way he probes so dangerously close to the defenses stationed around my heart.
Defenses I have only let one see through.
And never will again.
I turn away, but he grabs my arm. His face stripped free of all expression, but his eyes — Fucking hell, his eyes are living flames. All the pent-up emotion and endless questions that I’ve tried to smother for so long.
Heaven knows I’m tired of making up lies to fit his every question.
I turn away from him, drain the Warbomb with barely a breath between sips.
“Getting a job is one thing,” Aiden says quietly beside me. Too quietly. “But I deserve to know why you’ve shoved us head-first into this shithole.”
He deserves to stay alive.
That’s what he deserves.
I slam the glass onto the counter, hard enough it shatters. Somewhere above us, a clock strikes eleven. The sound echoes in the sudden silence of the gallery.
“Get your shit together, Jace.”
“Just a normal, human explanation.” He clamps a hand around my arm. His smile a mockery. “We’re in this together. I think I deserve to know—”
“Shut up.” I shove out at him with my wrists still imprisoned in his grip. Fighting the steel wings of panic beating the inside of my chest. “Let go of me, Aiden!”
“I’m about to.” The darkness in his eyes doubles the meaning in his voice.
I hold his gaze without flinching. Refuse to acknowledge the way the wings pound for release against my rib cage.
Release.
I cannot draw a steady breath.
“Forget it.” He hisses out a breath from between clenched teeth and liberates me with a shove. I stumble back a step before I manage to catch my balance. Purposely slow, I grab my nearly forgotten drink from the counter and swallow it down like I’m unaware of my own panic. When I look back, Aiden is still watching me, remorse already gnawing away at his features.
I wish that remorse was enough to reassure me.
Hands clenched around my middle — around the Shroud — I break into a run. Don’t stop until I’m on the ledge between the wall and the exit harness.
I bump my elbow into the floor button.
The door quivers but doesn’t close, its incessant laser blink inviting activation. I stare down at the harness, a fall-away gap that stretches several hundred feet into the depths of Lucaw Tower. If there’s anything to catch my fall, I can’t see it.
My eyes burn.
“Not so fast.” Aiden’s footsteps stop outside the harness door. His shadow hovering over the entrance. The lasers
caress him as he enters, creating a halo of his blond hair.
Oh yes. Such an angel.
He doesn’t speak, doesn’t attempt to get near me. Instead he settles in place on the other side of the harness, where the shadows strip away his laughable halo. Then the harness door slides shut in a hiss of air, and we are alone.
“Lux,” he says. “Back there. I wasn’t—” A long breath. “Don’t take everything I say so seriously, OK?”
Don’t give him a reaction.
Don’t.
Don’t.
I shift away from him. “No problem,” I say. My voice is ice.
“Just, you know, be honest. You have a record of bad decisions, Dove. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just—” His voice wavers—“I doubt you know what you’ve involved us in.”
A bolt of ultraviolet light slices from the ceiling of the harness, and all at once we’re moving, a drop away that cuts away Aiden’s argument. The laser current catches at us until we’re entangled in its threads. Suspended midair.
And then we are falling.
Our descent carried by the power of light, magic drained from centuries of countless fae.
And it’s all I can do not to tell Aiden why we really were sent for the Shroud.
I stare past him. Hands tight around the harness.
Count each passing second until the light releases us and the harnesses jolt to a stop. The tension between us thick enough to force a curse out of me.
“Lux—”
“Save your breath.” I step forward, waiting for the exit to open. RAAD already searching out our route.
As soon as we exit the harness, we’ll be out.
With the artifact that’ll leave us rich enough to leave this business behind forever.
Whatever his faults, Tigo is Chatham’s most generous crime lord.
“Lux.” Aiden grabs my arm, his voice harsher, more urgent. I glance back incredulously at him, a bubble of anger rising when he fails to release me.
“Seriously? What did I tell you about letting go?”
Instead he pulls me closer. Hands moving from my arms and up my body. Fingers brushing my breasts, light, teasing, before pulling away. Then I’m in his arms, body crushed against body, as his hands circle down to the small of my back. Tingles of pleasure ripple through me.
