by H. D. Gordon
“You said I get a choice,” I say, staring at the spot where Sam stood only a moment ago. “My freedom…or what?”
“Or a continued eternity of service,” says the Middle.
What kind of stupid choice was that?
“When you say ‘freedom’…?”
The Crone snaps, “She means a return to your mortal life, to live out your human days for however long that may be, and returned ownership of your soul.”
Returned ownership of my soul. Meaning I could live and die like a normal person, meaning I would be free of my obligation to Father Time. Meaning I would no longer be a reaper.
Holy fuck.
It really is an offer of the thing I want most in the world.
I am almost afraid to ask, but I must.
“What’s the catch?”
“Just a token,” giggles the Child, and for the first time, I hear menace in the ringing of it.
“Shred Samael,” says the Middle Fate. “And your soul is yours.”
14
10:15 p.m.
Because of course.
Because it couldn’t be something else, something reasonable. It had to be shredding Samael’s soul. Where is that miserable old reaper, anyway?
The question must be on my face.
“We are making him the same offer,” says the Middle. “Right at this moment. Decide. Before he decides for you…Or we do.”
I feel like my head is going to explode. How many endless days and nights have I prayed for something like this, for a shot at saving my soul? I’d told myself that I would do whatever it took, would give anything to escape my eternal sentence as a reaper, if only given the chance.
And here it was.
I turn, and Sam is there again. A nightmare turned real. His face is familiar, stoic and set. His wings arch up over his wide shoulders, and the hood of his cloak is once more covering his head.
In his large hand, Sariel, his legendary scythe, gleams.
I tighten my grip on my own scythe, the coolness of it tingling against my palm.
The museum lighting flashes upon the curves of our blades. I am going to shred him, or he is going to shred me…
Except that…
Neither of us does any such thing.
His scythe falls first, clattering to the floor. Discarded…
He will not shred me, not even if it means saving his own soul.
Not only that, but the bastard falls to his knees before me, his neck reaching a perfect angle for my own blade.
Samael’s dark eyes pin me, and there is pleading in them. “Do it,” he whispers, so low I can hardly be sure I hear. “Do it, and be free.”
As though it would be a mercy, though he’d told me it was not. And if the void is no mercy, then this is a sacrifice.
For my freedom.
Because he would not shred me to reclaim his.
I raise my scythe…
But Father damn me, I cannot bring myself to swing it.
“Well, fuck me sideways,” I mumble as I bend down and place my weapon beside Samael’s.
I am a butthole, but I stare at it a moment and consider picking it back up.
But when I look at Samael again, I know there is no point.
I will not shred him. Not to save myself. Not even for what I want most in all the worlds.
“See? Boring,” croaks the Crone.
“You’re just mad you bet against them,” says the Child, clearly pleased.
“It’s economical, anyway,” says the Middle, as if she, too, has become bored… And clearly hasn’t won the bet, either.
“Be gone with you,” says the Crone.
“That’s it, then?” I ask. “We just go back to reaping?”
“Would you like us to reconsider?” they ask all at once, in a voice that is both a chorus and a monotone.
“No, she would not,” Samael says. He grips my hand, and I know he is about to transport us out of there, but I speak before I can help myself.
“You said it was more economical,” I say. “What did you mean by that?”
“We will need our reapers, young one,” says the Middle. “For the war that is on the horizon.”
The Child grins and winks at me as I let Samael take us out of there, leaving the gray world with its three evil queens sitting upon their thrones, and drums of war sounding in my spinal column.
I stare out at the waterfront of Kelly Drive.
The cherry blossoms are in bloom, the white and pink flowers shading the walkway as bikers, skaters, walkers and runners move past. The silver buildings that make up Philadelphia’s skyline tower in the distance, while a row of enormous boathouses occupies the real estate on the other side of the Schuykill River.
As the weather has grown warmer, the days have grown longer, and hell if this day has not been one of the longest in history.
It would not matter if it were the middle of winter, anyway, I could no more feel the cold of the mortal realm than I could the sun.
And I never would again.
I’d had my chance, and I had passed it up. And third chances were even more rare than seconds as far as I knew.
I look over at Samael, who is sitting beside me, and wonder if he is thinking the same thing.
Are things awkward between us, after, you know, not killing each other in order to reclaim our mortal souls?
Because, I mean, they feel a little awkward.
I clear my throat. Samael looks at me. He doesn’t say anything. The butthead.
“So…uh…that was…intense,” I say.
Samael nods, but offers no more. I reconsider my decision not to reap him, but suppose that might be a bit of an overreaction.
After all, he had decided not to kill me, too.
Because he likes me.
Shit. This is totally awkward.
It would help if he weren’t so tortured, mysterious, and handsome, damnit. If the lines of his face didn’t make me want to trace them, and the black of his eyes didn’t threaten to drown. Were the ebony feathers of his wings as soft and silky as they looked?
Were his lips?
He’d been an angel before becoming a reaper, however many millennia ago that was… Did angels have male body parts?
My cheeks heat as I think it. I guess seven years of soulless servitude could leave a bitch a little thirsty.
Samael leans in a touch closer where he sits beside me on the grass, as if he is about to share a secret. His dark gaze goes to my lips and hovers there before meeting my eyes again. The way he is looking at me makes heat spiral low inside me.
Like he wants to eat me right up. Eat me up until I scream.
Oh, for Father’s sake, who am I kidding? Seven years of servitude has made me thirsty as fuck.
And Samael is looking like a tall glass of ice cold water.
I think he is going to touch me. He raises his hand as if to run the back of his fingers along the plane of my cheek… but he pauses there, as if afraid to make contact.
Out of all the shit that has happened today, the words that come out of my mouth next are perhaps the ballsiest.
“You can touch me, Sam,” I say.
He leans closer still. “Yes, I can.”
His hand slides onto my leg. This sends an almost embarrassing shock through me, and I can only hope the desire is not completely naked upon my face.
I can feel him touching me!
I can feel him!
After so long, it is a revelation.
A liberation.
The way his hand is practically quivering, I know I am not alone in the sensation. How long must it have been for him?
His hand finds the small of my back, and he tugs me forward. His dark wings flare and wrap around me, closing me into a world that seems all our own.
His handsome face is so near, the powerful aura around him practically thrumming along my skin.
I want to scream at him to take me but don’t want to be any more ridiculous than I already am.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, as if the deep tone of his voice isn’t currently melting my panties in half.
“Yes, please,” I breathe, like I’m fucking Marilyn Monroe.
He tugs me closer but kisses me gently.
And that lasts for about half a second before we are ready to tear each other’s clothes off right here.
And why the hell not? No one who’s around can see us. We don’t share a realm with them.
But we share one with each other.
A choice we’d both made. And fuck if it didn’t seem to awaken something within us.
You can guess what happened next.
And, by the way, it turns out angels definitely have male body parts.
15
11:59 p.m.
“We should do that again,” says Samael as he lands in front of me, wings flared and face shrouded in the dark hood of his cloak.
I can’t help a smirk. “Oh, we will,” I assure him.
We only have, like, the rest of eternity to do it.
“Good,” he says with a nod.
He is not trying to be funny, but I can’t help a laugh. He is so strange sometimes, so other. But, apparently, I can get down with that kind of thing.
Like, literally.
“Don’t you ever work?” I ask. “Or are you just gonna keep following me around?”
Samael snorts. “I’m supposed to be here. To collect.”
“So am I.”
We stare at each other. If both of us were here to reap, that meant both a human and a supe were about to meet their end at the same place and time.
That likely wasn’t a coincidence.
As we round the corner onto JFK Boulevard, I see that it is not a coincidence at all. The people of Philadelphia have flooded out of their homes, and they are protesting.
Thousands of them.
I grip my scythe.
“Another supernatural shot by a cop,” Sam says. “A wolf boy. Third one in the city this year.”
As I stand there, letting the protesters pass by in waves and throngs, I cannot help but remember what the Fates had said; that not shredding Sam and me was economical.
For what was ahead.
War.
From what I could see, it was already here.
And I was here, too, to clean up after it.
For forever.
And ever…
I glance at Samael.
At least I’m gonna get a little booty along the way, I think, and would laugh if not for the seriousness of the situation.
I suppose the afterlife could be just like life in that a whole hell of a lot could happen in a single day.
The End… For Now
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Exposed (A Book Bite)
Cursed (A Book Bite)
Book Bites are all set in the same world, in the city of Philadelphia after humans find out about the existence of supernaturals.
Each short story follows a day in the life of a different character. Book Bites can also be read in any order.
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About the Author
H. D. Gordon is the author of several fantasy series with strong female leads. She is the mother of two amazing daughters, and a lover of nature.
She believes our actions have ripple effects, and in the interconnectedness of all things.
H. D. spends her time with family, eating desserts, and taking strolls through the forests of New Jersey.
For more information visit:
www.hdgordonbooks.com
Also by H. D. Gordon
The Alexa Montgomery Series
Blood Warrior
Half Black Soul
The Rise
Redemption
Heiress of Magic Trilogy
Born of Magic
Thief of Magic
Throne of Magic
The Aria Fae Series
The Halfling
The Masked Maiden
The Blue Beast
The Haunted Hero
The Demon’s Deal
The Wolf Wars Series
Moon Burned
Moon Broken
Moon Born
Moon Battle
The Blood Pack Trilogy
Moon of Fire
Moon of Shadows
Moon of Curses
Academy of Witchcraft
The Awakening
The Summoning
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H. D. Gordon
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