Reaper's Dark Kiss

by Ryssa Edwards

  His quietly spoken words disarmed Viper the way a bomb whisperer would disarm a bomb. As Sky watched, Viper geared down. He’d been scanning the garden for danger. But now he grew calm and still, his attention focused, instead of watchful. His hands fell a fraction away from his knives, which Sky figured was like going from high alert to high readiness.

  Marek, Sky thought, is a killer negotiator.

  “I’m sure by now, SkyLynne, you’re wondering how many Furies can dance on the head of a pin,” Marek said.

  Sky was taken aback, because she’d been thinking almost exactly that. She’d begun putting it together on the walk from Central Park. The mosaic in the old tunnel with falling angels who had silver swords with ivory hilts. Julian and Viper’s knives were antiques. They both had silver blades, ivory handles. Viper’s promise about gold wings. The picture of falling angels in his place.

  “Are you angels?” Sky asked.

  “Not precisely,” Marek said. “You will allow me to tell you of our history?”

  There was something calculated in the way he asked, as though he were deciding how much Sky should be told. She nodded, unwilling to say more to Marek than she had to.

  “There are angels who are warriors,” Marek began. “They are…” He looked at Sky. “What do mortals call it when you have soldiers who will commit unsavory acts to sustain peace and order?”

  Sky thought about CJ and how he never talked about what he did. Ever. “Special Forces?” she said to Marek.

  “Good enough,” he said. “They are angels of a high order, unquestioningly loyal and obedient.”

  “But after a while,” Julian said, picking up the story, “the angels couldn’t do things that had to be done. They were too light. Too good.”

  “Angels are creatures of unimaginable light,” Marek said, “but their shadows are blacker than the night between stars. We—”

  “How can something made of light cast a shadow?” Sky asked.

  “Cosmic laws,” Marek told her, “defy reason and logic. They simply are.”

  He waited to see if Sky had more questions. When she didn’t, he went on. “The Furies were created from the shadows of warrior angels. Our purpose was to defend, enforce, fight. Nothing more. We went forth and did that which was necessary but which no other creature in creation could bear to do.”

  “You were heaven’s Green Berets?” Sky asked, too caught up in the story to treat Marek like an interview.

  After Julian told him what she meant, Marek laughed, a hard bitter sound. “Nothing so good as that. Even the most vicious mortal has far more light than we do. Furies have no light in us. We were created from darkness so black, it is a nameless void.”

  “Who were you supposed to fight?” Sky asked. She had the feeling each question was being drawn from her, as if Marek were doing a weird kind of reverse interview, leading her where he wanted her to go.

  “If any order of creature dared to violate the law of the Sublime Kingdom, the Furies fell upon them and brought utter annihilation,” Marek said. “We were the wrath whose very name meant mayhem and destruction.”

  A strange breeze blew through the garden, bringing a haunting scent of wildflowers in sunshine. “What happened?” Sky asked.

  “We got tired of being slaves,” Viper said. “We had legions who fought with us, but we could only fight who we were told, and we couldn’t build our own kingdom.”

  “After eons,” Julian added, “we wanted to be free.”

  “You have a story about a girl who slides down a very deep place,” Marek said.

  “Alice in Wonderland,” Sky told him. “The rabbit hole.”

  “We found such an opening,” Marek said. “It was a portal between realms. We thought we had found our way to freedom.”

  “All we had to do,” Viper said, “was kill the portal guardians. We got legions to follow us, told them they’d fight for us and we’d build our own kingdom and we’d be free.”

  “We planned the assault. We believed that if we fought our way free, others would follow, and we would change the order of things. The battle began,” Marek said. “But in the Sublime Kingdom, there are no secrets. We were caught draining off the light of the portal guardians, slaughtering our way to freedom.” He turned to Sky, a sort of plea for her to understand on his face. “It was our only way out of slavery. I regret now the light we spilled.”

  “It was an uprising,” Sky said.

  “Very much.” Marek was thoughtful a few moments before he said to Sky, “You know what a veil is?”

  “Like a wedding veil?”

  “Not quite,” Marek said. “In mortals, it is called conscience. There are things you want to do, but you don’t. You understand?”

  Sky told him she did.

  “I have told you,” Marek said, “that we were created to defend, to fight, to enforce. We craved the kill all the time, but the veil—our conscience—kept us from mindless butchery. Our punishment began with the ripping away of our veil.”

  Imagining an immortal warrior with absolutely no conscience, doing exactly what he wanted, with nothing to hold him back, gave Sky a real moment of horror.

  “We went on a rampage,” Marek said. “We massacred the guardians, their mates. We laid waste to their entire world before it was over.” He was silent, not breathing, not moving for endless seconds before he said, “And only when we fell into this world did we feel regret at the life we had so thoughtlessly taken without mercy.”

  A whole world? Sky thought. Dead?

  “And then you fell through the hole?” Sky asked, keeping her voice as steady as she could.

  “You needn’t fear us. Our veils are very much with us in this world.” Marek gave a rueful smile. “We are now warriors with a conscience.”

  Julian slipped his arms around Sky. She leaned into his solidly hard body and felt her fear melt away.

  “The Furies,” Marek went on, “were gathered around the portal and bound in chains. It had been redirected. We were exiled for all eternity to this place of flesh and stone. Our men fell with us. We were cursed so that light would rob us of our immortality and only mortal blood would sustain our lives.”

  “How many?” Sky asked, blown away by what she was hearing. Julian, Marek, Viper—slaves?

  “There were thirteen Furies,” Marek said. “The fall has driven some of our brethren mad.”

  “We fell all over your world. Like falling stars,” Viper said. “We don’t know how many warriors are left. Some smashed their swords and walked away. They’re civilians. They live quiet lives, go by the Creed. They don’t want anything to do with us. Look how they ended up because of us.”

  “Many burned up in the fall,” Marek said. “Those who landed on the night side of this world fared better.”

  “The chains,” Sky said. “Is that what made you brothers?”

  “It’s good to have you in our family, SkyLynne,” Marek said with a pleased smile. “Your mind is quick, sharp. Yes. Myself, Julian, Viper, and the other Furies are brothers in your world.”

  It was a politician’s smile. He was hiding something. Right. It was so obvious. How could she have missed it? “Vandar’s your brother?” Sky asked in a shaken whisper.

  “We are bound by the bond of brotherhood in this world,” Marek said stiffly.

  “And you’re going to issue a death warrant on your brother?”

  “Death scroll,” Viper murmured.

  “I have no choice,” Marek said.

  “We’re stronger than mortals,” Viper said. “Faster. Deadly fighters. But in sunlight, we’re done. We can’t have Vandar doing what he’s doing.”

  “As ruler of the Creed,” Marek said, “I must take action. If I do not act, my brother Furies will. If Vandar’s crimes expose us, mortals would soon wipe us from the face of your world in fear.”

  Sky thought of the wars started over nothing more than a different name for God, and knew Marek was right.

  “My true name,” Viper said into
the silence, “is Zahaab, Furie of the Abyss.”

  “Belayth,” Marek said with a small bow to Sky. “Furie of War.”

  “Azryal,” Julian said, moving beside her to take her hand. “Furie of Death.” He gave Sky an uncertain look. “Also known as the Destroyer.”

  “Is that what you’ve been scared to tell me?” Sky asked him.

  “I wasn’t sure how you’d take knowing what I really am,” Julian said.

  Sky rolled her eyes at him. “You’re made of darkness. You carry the sharpest knives I’ve ever seen. You risk your life to protect your people in a world that could kill all of you.” She shrugged. “I guess you’re pretty okay.”

  “I think she likes you,” Viper said.

  Oracle’s answer came back to Sky. “In chaos is found the seed of dominion.”

  “And Vandar,” she said, “he’s a chaos Furie?”

  “LaHaaz, Furie of Chaos,” Julian said. “Vazzago, Furie of the Labyrinth, is his counselor.”

  “My brother Furies and I, our warriors who fell with us, we are Remnants, fallen from a world to which we may never return.”

  Nearby footsteps sounded on winding paths. Somewhere water splashed over stone. From overhead, light fell through filtered glass in spears of violet and purple. For the first time, Sky noticed something about the people moving through the garden. It was so much a part of them, she’d overlooked it until now. They had the haunted look of exiles who had no hope of ever going home. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t sorrow for us,” Marek said. “With our fall into this world came emotion. In this place of dazzling light, we have discovered many wonders.” His face shaded with brooding sadness. He said, “I have come to believe the greatest of these is love. It has made our journey into damnation worth every pain endured.”

  “Every pain,” Julian echoed softly.

  After everything that had been taken from them, the Furies still believed in love. To Sky, that felt like the best kind of magic.

  “The poison of the stone has dissipated,” Marek said to Julian. “It is time you consider the Dark Kiss, brother.”

  “No,” Julian said. “I’ll kill Vandar before I do that to Sky.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Vandar pulled on his trousers and lifted Maggie from the back of the couch where he’d bent her over. He watched her settle into the soft cushions. She winced. He felt a shade of regret at how hard he’d taken her. He wasn’t used to such feelings.

  To cover his discomfort he said, “Stay there,” and got up to pour her another glass of wine.

  As the crimson liquid flowed, it occurred to Vandar that he had never waited on a female, never offered anything to anyone unless he knew he would gain from it. Resting the seventy-eight-year-old bottle on the marble tabletop, he searched himself for what he wanted from Maggie. What came surprised him. It was almost childlike. He wanted to be the hero, the lover Maggie had drawn.

  An impossible thought. He was created from absolute darkness.

  “You must allow into your heart that which you deem impossible.”

  That was all very well for dreamers like Oracle, but Vandar was a warrior. His life revolved around what could be done, how it could be done, and what weapons he required to do it.

  Maggie took the glass and settled closer to Vandar when he sat down. His mind circled helplessly back to Marek and the contract.

  “What’s taking your thoughts so far away?” Maggie asked, setting her glass on the wood table before them.

  In the Dominion War, he had fought his brothers and won, but only after grueling battles. And still, Vandar had the feeling, even as he’d celebrated with his exhausted men, that Marek had won. Now, with the contract looming so close, he feared that Marek would find a way to win. Unwilling to share any of this with Maggie, he said, “Come,” he said. “Walk with me in Light Town.” Another first. He rarely wanted more from a youngling than the use of her body. “And tomorrow night, we will go into the Village of Greenwich and buy you things worthy of your talent to draw.”

  “I’d like if you let me draw you naked.” Maggie pressed her bare body against Vandar, sliding a hand down between his legs, kissing his throat. “Just you. Without me in the picture.”

  “You may draw me any way you like. But now you will dress.” He pressed a light kiss to Maggie’s lips before pushing her away and standing up. “I’ll wait outside for you.” If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let Maggie dress. He would bend her over the couch again and stroke hard into her until the need she called forth in him was sated for a time. He would enjoy it, but she wouldn’t. He didn’t want that. He wanted Maggie to have as much pleasure as he did when he was buried deep in her.

  If Maggie is the impossible, then I want the impossible, Vandar thought, going through the door. Was this what Oracle meant? A ridiculous idea. Soon fear would replace desire in her eyes. He’d seen it happen between one sunset and the next. Soon, when he called her to him, she would tremble. Soon after that, she would beg him not to hurt her. Then would come the tears. Then he would send her away.

  His phone rang. It was Kraeyl.

  “Yes?” Vandar said.

  He listened, his eyes on the door, waiting to play his role of hero. “Why does a robbery in the Sun World concern me?”

  His counselor was cautious with his answer, the kind of caution that rose from fear. “Why would Julian do that?” Vandar asked, moving aside, letting Maggie through the door.

  From what Vandar understood, his phone was the smartest device on the market. But resting in his hand, blithely broadcasting news that went from bad to worse to intolerable, it seemed the stupidest thing in mortal creation. “Very well,” he said. “Come to me in Light Town.”

  “Do you want me to wait here?” Maggie asked after Vandar ended the call.

  “No.” Vandar slid his hand under her half T-shirt and gently fondled her nipple. She moaned softly. The look in her half-closed eyes told Vandar she was seeing the hero Maggie thought him to be. “I want you with me.” He would be what Maggie wanted for a few hours, and then, he knew, his life would come crashing back in. He pulled her T-shirt into place. “Kraeyl’s report won’t take long. After, we’ll talk of Michelangelo. He too enjoyed creating art naked, or was it naked art?”

  Maggie gave him a look as if she wasn’t sure if he was joking, and then she burst out in a small laugh. Her laughter was far more pleasant than the fearful silence he’d come to expect from females. Feelings were indeed useless, but some were quite pleasurable.

  In Light Town, Vandar was pleased to see that Kraeyl had so effectively spread the word. No youngling dared risk their lord’s wrath by keeping company with Oracle. Better to stay away from their little village entirely.

  As Vandar walked, Maggie silent beside him, he thought over the phone call. The most dangerous act a Shade could do was commit notorious, open crime in the mortal world. Tonight, Julian had done exactly that.

  “I’ve never seen it this empty,” Maggie said, interrupting his thoughts.

  They were moving along a narrow curving way with no shops. Blue lights the color of a storm-driven sky lit their way.

  Oracle melted from a stone wall and appeared on Maggie’s other side. “Your town of light is empty because your master has perfected the art of ruling through fear,” Oracle rasped from deep within his hood.

  Maggie jumped and pushed closer to Vandar. He appreciated a moment of pleasure that a youngling who had shared his bed thought of him as a refuge. Perhaps he was a hero after all.

  Oracle had stalked them in complete silence, a warrior on the hunt. Vandar disliked feeling like prey. “Your tricks are old,” he said, “and I am beginning to tire of your presumptions.”

  Vandar pulled Maggie slightly behind him, shielding her without thinking. He’d had enough of Oracle. If it came to a fight, then so be it. Kraeyl glided up to them, his open face arranged in the role he enjoyed least but played best, that of peacemaker. He gave a courtly bow that wa
s aimed squarely between Vandar and Oracle. “My lord,” he said. “I see you’ve found our guest.”

  “A lonely guest,” Oracle said, “as your lord has deprived me of the wonderfully invigorating company of the young.” He crooked his head, making his hood gather on one brawny shoulder. “It was your lord who scattered the younglings to their day graves?” he asked. Before Kraeyl could answer, Oracle said, “Of course it was. I’m sure you’re far too careful to incriminate yourself by threatening those less powerful than your noble self.”

  The one thing Kraeyl despised, the greatest insult to him, was to be called a criminal. Vandar looked to his counselor. Kraeyl’s eyes glowed crimson with rage. Oracle took a step back, his hands lowered but slightly in front of him, ready to draw a weapon and kill. Facing one another, they stood ready to make war.

  Just then, Vandar would have given anything to be a hero in a tale of love, rather than an immortal standing on the brink of Armageddon.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Now that Julian had actually fed from Sky, the haeze was stronger, a blind, unrelenting urge to mark her, claim her, whatever the cost.

  I will not let her go.

  His beast would drive Julian into exile from the Creed, if that was what it would take to keep Sky.

  Marek had known better than to argue about the Dark Kiss. After Viper left with him, Sky asked Julian to fly them up here, a dizzyingly high terrace. The garden lay far below them, its crooked paths making a toy maze. A glass pane almost directly overhead flooded the stone with violet glow. A recess was carved out of the wall, a kind of shallow cave. Sky, leaning against one side of the cave’s entrance, stared out over the gardens to the terraces opposite.

  “Whose body are you in?” she asked.

  Julian took his time thinking over his answer. The slower he talked, the longer he had to decide what to do with Sky while he went to take care of Vandar and end this. “Mine,” he said. “We’re made of darkness, invisible. The fall condensed us into solid form. But inside what you see is Azryal, a Furie. And inside that is a beast.”

  “Beast?” Sky asked. “Like six six six, Satan?”