by Lizzy Ford
Deidre paced on the beach behind her bungalow, unable to do anything but lecture herself over and over about how stupid she was to sleep with some random stranger. Her blood still raced whenever she thought of his hot touch branding her body. She’d done things with him she’d never admit to, things that made her never want to see him again.
Things that made her knees weak and her eyes drift dreamily to the ocean as she remembered. Something about him touched her on a level that left her feeling at peace, as if he, too, understood what it was to face death each day and struggle to see the light instead of the surrounding darkness. She wasn’t alone when she was with him.
He was so gentle and tender in bed, savoring every touch. He didn’t treat her as an outlet for his own release but as a partner on a sensual journey, one where pleasure was a gift as much as a reward. It was more than sex. It was deeper, beyond the physical joining, the sense of being one. She held nothing back as he drove her to sensations and heights she’d never imagined.
She shook her head and focused on her phone again, willing Logan to return one of her dozens of calls or texts. Dressed in jeans and a tank top, she plopped onto the beach then hopped up. Her body was humming with the stranger’s weird energy. She couldn’t sit without fidgeting or think straight.
She found herself walking down the beach to where she’d met him the night before. She hadn’t considered why he was there, just like she hadn’t thought twice about tumbling into bed with him.
“Like some common whore,” she muttered.
After seeing his name tattooed across her back and the look of pure murder on his face, she hid in the closet until certain he was gone. The man she’d seen in daylight and the one who’d kissed her so passionately in moonlight became two separate people. One she wanted to spend eternity in bed with; the other she felt the need to flee.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is totally karma,” she told herself angrily. “You sleep with a wacko, your boyfriend won’t return your calls. You deserve this, Deidre.”
It was three o’clock. She wasn’t going to be on the beach when dark fell, in case Gabriel came back. Nose wrinkling from the scent of rotting seaweed, she glanced towards the crumbling foundation of the beach house. Her eyes went to the sand in front of the lot. This was where she’d met him, the man who rocked her world. He’d been standing in the brush.
Deidre tried to call Logan again. The phone rang and went to voicemail. From somewhere nearby, she heard someone else’s phone ringing and stepped out of the way, off the path running along the beach. Couples and families had been walking up and down the beach all day. Their footprints remained in sand wet enough to become packed but not wet enough to be squishy.
“Hi, Logan. Me, again,” she said. “Please call me back.”
Hanging up, she shook her head, pissed at him. He really had left her. She deserved it after last night, but still, why didn’t he at least answer and tell her he was done with her? He’d taken the car; it was her car!
Angry at him, Deidre texted him. She heard a familiar ring tone – the one he assigned her – and looked up hopefully.
She didn’t see him. Puzzled, she texted him again.
Again, the ring tone. The sound came from the deserted lot. Deidre tried calling him. She heard the phone ring and followed the sound. It stopped when the call went to voicemail. She did it again and again, moving into the brush, where the scent of rotting seaweed came from.
Dialing one last time, she looked up and froze.
The body a few feet away was bloated and pale, missing its face and dressed in the shirt she bought him for his birthday, the one with his initials – LJM – embroidered across the pocket. The phone was ringing from its place in his jeans pocket.
That’s what the man, Gabriel, had been doing in this spot last night. He killed her boyfriend. Maybe he meant to kill her, too, but slept with her instead. Or maybe, he planned on coming back for her tonight.
He really was a serial killer. What the fuck was wrong with her that she not only drew the attention of such a person but slept with him?
“Oh, god, Logan,” she breathed, eyes watering.
Alarm surfaced. She’d gotten Logan killed by dragging him to the ocean. The killer had already marked her with his name.
She was next.
Full-blown panic hit her. Deidre staggered away and ran to the beach house. She snatched her purse and fled out the front door, running as hard as she could down the driveway. By the end of it, she was sobbing. She dropped to her knees, the vision of Logan’s faceless body forefront in her thoughts.
She’d cheated on him and gotten him killed. He didn’t deserve this! She was the one who was supposed to die, not him!
She cried for a few minutes then forced herself up. She had to get out of there and go somewhere safe, her apartment, hours away from where the murderer was. There were too many things she’d wanted to do before dying; now that someone might kill her, she realized how unready she really was. She definitely didn’t want to end up like Logan.
Somehow, Deidre made it to town. She pushed her sunglasses on and hailed a cab.
“Atlanta,” she told him in a shaking voice.
“Ma’am, that’s a three hour drive. The cost –“
“I’ll pay it. Please, just drive.” The desperation in her voice drew his attention. She willed herself not to cry, but she started soon after he left the beach town.
The cabbie said nothing. She managed to pull herself together after awhile but was unable to forget what she’d seen, what she’d done. It was entirely her fault Logan was dead. She deserved the brain tumor. She deserved to die.
She’d never been so scared.
It was dark by the time the cab dropped her off in front of the high rise where she shared an apartment with Logan. Deidre paid the driver and hurried inside, her mind reeling and her body buzzing with the weird energy of the killer who’d marked her. Whenever she felt overwhelmed from her oncoming death or the doctors’ news, she ran to her room until she was strong enough to face the world again. The urge to hide forever made her feel sick.
Deidre left the elevator and went to her apartment. Her hands fumbled with the keys three times before she managed to unlock the door. She flung the door open and slammed it closed, about to run for her room, when she stopped cold.
“Logan?” she whispered, shocked to see the man she’d thought was dead standing in front of her.
He stared back, mirroring her surprise.
“Omigod, Logan!” she all but screamed. Deidre flung herself into his arms, pulling his face down to spread kisses across his features. “You’re alive!” She began crying again. “I thought … I saw you .. and the phone I kept calling and calling and you didn’t … at the beach and I did something so horrible you’ll hate me…” She half-babbled, half-sobbed.
“I didn’t understand any of that,” Logan said but returned her hug. His body was stiff, as if he wasn’t used to hugging her. She found herself comparing him to the stranger, whose body had molded around hers, as if he was made for her and no one else.
Deidre didn’t care. “I am so sorry, Logan. So, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I don’t know what happened. I’m so, so sorry! I thought you were dead!”
“Why would I be?” he returned.
“You wouldn’t return my phone calls,” she said, calming. “Did you lose your phone on the beach?”
There was a pause. “Yes.”
She didn’t let herself listen to the instinct that told her the body she’d seen was wearing the clothes she bought him. Too happy knowing he was alive, Deidre hugged him harder.
“Logan, I saw a body on the beach. I thought it was you. I thought I lost you.” She looked up at him, eyes watering again.
“I’m right here.” He withdrew, and she noticed he was agitated.
“Look, Logan, I don’t care why you left me at the beach house. If you don’t want to be with me, it’s okay. I’m just … I’m so happy you’re okay,”
she said.
“I want to be with you,” he said in the same tone he used to describe the deficiencies of the beach house’s security.
“You might not after I tell you this.” She took a deep breath. “I did something terrible.”
He crossed his arms, waiting. Deidre wiped her eyes and saw the mascara smeared on her fingers.
“Let me freshen up a little first,” she said with a watery smile. “Give me a minute?”
“Yes.”
She couldn’t help feeling familiar annoyance at him as she turned away from him. While beyond thrilled he was alive, she realized she still wanted to dump him.
“Wait.” His sudden grip on her shoulder was tight.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, wincing.
“Gabriel.” He read the tattoo visible through the tank top’s straps.
“You’re hurting me,” she murmured.
He released her.
“That’s what I have to tell you. I have to go to the bathroom first though.”
Deidre crossed to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She glimpsed the mess that was her face and decided to wash it and redo her makeup. She needed time to compose herself to tell him about her one night stand. He’d probably storm out and leave her. At least he was alive.
Leaning against the sink, she breathed out a deep sigh. She felt horrible thinking it, but she was utterly relieved whoever it was on the beach, it wasn’t Logan. Her thoughts clearing, she realized she needed to call the police about the body she found.
With another deep breath, she leaned over to push aside the shower curtain and grab her face wash. Her hand paused as she stared in bewilderment at what sat in the bottom of the bath tub.
Bones. Lots of them. And a human-looking skull. They looked too clean to be real, like props bought from a Halloween store. What was Logan doing with a disassembled skeleton in the bath tub?
Deidre washed her face and redid her makeup before venturing to peek into the bathtub again. The sound of squishing drew her attention to the bath mat next to the tub. What appeared to be red wine was squeezed out of the bath mat at the weight of her step. She lifted it to see the outline of a puddle of the liquid beneath the mat.
Blood, not wine. Wine didn’t congeal like this did. Disgusted, she stood. It was more blood than from a razor cut but nowhere near enough to justify a full skeleton in her bathtub.
This entire day was weird. Was she that far gone? The doctor said a sign she was deteriorating would be hallucinations. First the tattoos, now bones.
Deidre leaned down and touched a bone to see if it disappeared. It didn’t. It certainly felt solid. There really was a pile of bones in her tub. Was that better or worse than hallucinations?
“You okay?” Logan’s knock jarred her.
“Coming.” Deidre wiped the blood off her foot onto a towel, unable to piece together what the hell was going on. When did she step into the Twilight Zone?
She left the bathroom, weirded out. Logan was in the living room. The lights were on and glowing, the television on quietly. She thought she heard the door to their bedroom close and glanced back.
“So, Gabriel,” Logan’s voice was casual enough to tell her he suspected something.
Deidre’s shoulders dropped. She sat on the arm of the sofa.
“I did something. If you don’t want to forgive me or can’t, I understand,” she started.
He was gazing at her warily.
“I kind of had … well …” she sighed. “Logan, I slept with someone else.”
“Gabriel,” he guessed.
“Yes. I don’t know who he was and will never, ever, ever see him again.” Her eyes watered. “Logan, I think he killed someone. And now, he’s going to kill me. He marked me like serial killers do.” She turned and pulled her hair aside to show him the tattoo once again. “I found the body and I thought it was you and I lost it. I came straight here. I am so, so sorry! So sorry!”
He gazed at her, emotionless. She expected him to react, but he didn’t. She heard a sound from their room again and stood, understanding.
“Oh, Logan,” she breathed then rushed on. “You’re having an affair, aren’t you? That’s why you’ve been acting weird and came back and why you’re not upset at me.”
“That’s … possible,” he allowed.
“Oh. You couldn’t tell me?” She felt hurt, knowing she didn’t deserve to feel upset at him after doing the same thing.
“No.”
“I understand, Logan. I’m so sorry about … you know.” She motioned to her head. “She can come out. I’m not upset.”
It really was over. She should’ve known. No one wanted a dying girlfriend, especially when she’d flat out refused to marry him. Logan rose quickly as she started down the hallway. Deidre knocked then opened the door to their bedroom, startled.
“Or, I guess you can tell him to come out,” she said. The man in her bedroom was kind of creepy: tall and lean with blond hair and eyes so dark, she couldn’t see his pupils. Logan’s choice in men was definitely lacking.“It’s okay. I know. I’m not mad. My name is Deidre.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you.” The blond man’s smile was slow, predatory, his teeth sharpened into points and his dark gaze piercing. “I’m Jared.”
She took an involuntary step back into the hall. “Nice to meet you.”
Jared approached. Unnerved by the strange man, Deidre backed away until she bumped into the wall.
“I like your hair,” he said, looking her over. “Reminds me of a water sprite.”
The familiar phrase made her chest tighten. The instincts she’d ignored at seeing Logan alive grew louder. Something was wrong here. The bones and blood, the scary man with pointed teeth.
“After you.” Jared motioned to the living room.
“Go ahead. I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” she replied.
He shrugged and padded down the hall.
Deidre turned to the spare bedroom. They kept Logan’s baseball gear there, and she felt the sudden need to have a bat in her hands. She opened the door and flipped on the light.
The bedroom was covered in blood. The spare bed was soaked with it, and it pooled around the legs. There were handprints on the windows, as if someone had tried to escape, and blood splattered on the ceiling and the walls.
Unable to process what was before her, Deidre closed the door and swallowed hard. The sense of calm settling inside her was unnatural, like the rest of the day. She stared at the door. At some point, her life had gone from crappy to freakish. It started when she had a one night stand with a serial killer.
Was that it, then? Had she really died last night and entered this strange reality? Was this purgatory? Reparation for bad karma?
Could she leave? Return to her own world?
Far calmer than she’d ever been, she crept down the hallway. Logan and Jared were in front of the television, talking about the basketball game. Like two guys hanging out who thought it was normal to have bones in the bathroom and blood covering the spare bedroom.
She was going crazy. Or she’d died. There was no way this was real. It was a sign, though, that things had gone on long enough. Maybe this was the push she needed to take that final step, the one that’d take her out of this world completely. Hallucinations, fate or some sort of mania brought on by her brain tumor, she wasn’t going to wait for the Grand Canyon. Either she was dead and didn’t know it, or she was close enough to take matters into her own hands.
Engrossed in discussion, the two men didn’t notice her cross the kitchen to the entrance. She yanked it open and gasped at the wall of man before her.
“Gabriel,” she whispered, looking up from his chest to his dark eyes. She felt the connection to him again, strong and deep, as if her fate was bound to the serial killer who’d come to claim her. There was no sign of the gentle man who made love to her last night, nothing but the cold, stony features of death. This time, there was no mistaking the weapons lining his t
rench coat or the sword along one thigh.
Deidre whirled. “Logan!” she cried.
The two men leapt up. Gabriel pushed her aside, into the kitchen, swinging out the sword with ease at odds with his large form. Jared scrambled out of the way, but Logan wasn’t so lucky. His head flew off in one direction while his body dropped.
For the second time in one day, she saw the dead body of her boyfriend.
Deidre ran. Her heart and breathing drowning out every other sound, she raced down the hall and around a corner, sliding to a stop as she saw the men headed her way. They carried weapons, too, and their eyes were pure black, their teeth pointed like Jared’s. She darted the other direction down the hallway and slammed open the stairwell. Sounds of pursuit came from a few floors down, blocking her escape.
She went up. Eyes blurred with tears and bewildered, she couldn’t make sense of anything around her anymore. Whatever this was, she was done with it.
They were chasing her. She heard them and launched herself up the stairs, two at a time. Breathless, she reached the exit onto the roof and pushed it open, flinching at the alarm that sounded. The Atlanta night was muggy and dark; a thin layer of smog trapped the city’s light and made the sky glow an eerie yellow-orange. Deidre ran and ducked behind a massive swamp cooler. She shook too hard to pull her phone free from her pocket and call for help.
Several men passed by where she was hidden, and she backed away as quietly as she could. She pressed herself against the warm, humming swamp cooler and turned a corner, only to come face to face with Gabriel again.
Deidre bolted. He snatched her, pulling her into his body before she could struggle. One arm locked around her while his other hand covered her mouth. He pressed her head back against his chest. The reminder of his size and strength scared her. He handled her like she offered no more resistance than a ragdoll.
“Quiet,” he whispered into her ear. “As much as I’d like to kill you, I won’t.”
His breath tickled, and she shivered. Her body roared to life at the scent of his dark spices while she fought the urge to break down into hysterics. Wrapped in his warm body, she couldn’t move if she wanted to. A side of her really didn’t want to, even knowing he’d killed her boyfriend.
Twice.
His heartbeat was strong and steady, the thick arm wrapped around her as it had been when he held her after they’d made love for the last time before falling asleep. The sense of being protected, safe, floated through her. She fought it. She was his next target. She wanted to go down on her own terms, not lured into a false sense of safety before he chopped off her head.
The sounds of pursuit grew fainter. When they fell silent, Gabriel moved, his grip loosening around her.
“Stay here,” he ordered. Deidre stayed in place long enough for him to put some distance between them. He faded in and out of shadows, as if he was part of them, the heavy trench coat making him look like some sort of sinister Batman.
She inched towards the edge of the building. It was fifty meters away, far enough he could catch her, if she wasn’t careful. Easing to the edge of the swamp cooler, she eyed the distance and drew a deep breath.
He’d guessed right. She was a jumper. She hadn’t planned on jumping off her building, but the events of this night made the idea more appealing than having her head severed from her body or ending up a pile of bones in a bathtub. Deidre squared off against the waist high wall between her and her destiny.
She sprinted. She passed the halfway point and forced herself to keep going. If she gave herself a second to think, she’d stop and sob, until someone else came by and killed her. She passed the three quarters point, and tears filled her gaze.
“Deidre!” Gabriel’s shout was closer than she expected.
She ran as fast as she could, knowing it was her only chance. Reaching the wall, Deidre ignored the scrape of concrete against her hands and knees as she clambered on top. She paused, gazing down at the street lights thirty stories down. Wind whipped up the building and tossed her hair.
Either I’m already dead, and nothing happens. Or, I’m alive and about to be dead.
With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and jumped.
The sensations of freefalling made her stomach turn. She panicked as she fell. This felt too real for her to be dead. Air roared by her ears. She opened her eyes, forbidding herself from screaming as the pavement below grew closer. She seemed to be moving so slowly, crisply aware of every sensation, every thought.
Someone tackled her. She gave a cry, confused as arms wrapped around her. The flutter of a black trench coat blended with the dark sky as Gabriel twisted them in midair, so he’d hit back first, with her protected in his arms. Deidre couldn’t move as they fell in slow motion. She saw the flash of a street lamp. Before they hit the concrete, darkness swallowed them, and they fell through a cold, damp place punctuated by strange yellow doors.
Suddenly, they broke free. Blinded by sunlight and blue sky, she closed her eyes.
They hit the ground hard. The impact jarred her to the core. Gabriel’s arms fell away. Her breath knocked from her, Deidre didn’t move for a long minute then sat up, gasping. She scrambled off him, senses reeling. Blood soaked into the sand around him. He was unconscious – or dead? – while she stood on a beach near blue-green depths so clear, she could see the white sand at the bottom of the water.
She’d done it. She’d killed herself and Gabriel and landed … here. Did heaven look like an island in the Caribbean? She turned around. Ocean surrounded the small island, upon which a fortress sat, several hundred meters away, up a sloping hill on top of solid rock.
A stunning man with a large smile dressed in white stood a few feet away, his brown hair ruffled by the sea breeze.
“Are you… are you an angel?” she asked, hopeful yet confused.
“That’s not as funny as you think it is,” he replied. “Dammit. I swore I’d get the first and last word in this time. Fifty percent chance of that now.”
He moved closer, and she found herself arrested by handsome features and eyes that turned every color in the world. He wasn’t human. She had to be dead.
Taking one arm gently, he turned her back to him and pushed her hair away to read the tattoo. He pulled her to face him and released her, satisfaction on his face.
“Is this heaven?” she tried again.
“Oh, no. Nowhere near that,” he assured her. “I’ve waited to tell you this since we met long ago.” He paused and drew a deep breath.
Deidre felt the sense of losing it again. She was going to break down any second, but the effort the man before her put into preparing himself held her horrified attention.
“It will mean more to me than you, at this point, but I am at peace with that,” he continued. “Ready?”
Speechless, she waited.
“Checkmate,” he said and gave her a blinding smile. “That was worth the wait.”
“What the fuck is going on?” she cried at last, tears bubbling again. “What is this place? Who are you? Am I dead or not?”
“In about five minutes, the big man there is going to wake up. There’s an eighty two percent chance he’ll kill you, if you’re not behind those walls,” the man replied. He pointed to the fortress. “I am a fan of free will, so it’s your choice. But if I was you, I’d start running.” He stepped aside, happy for reasons she couldn’t remotely comprehend.
Deidre glanced back at Gabriel. How did a serial killer get into heaven?
The smiling stranger’s warning clicked. Whatever reality she fell into, it wasn’t over yet. There were no other buildings, nowhere else to hide that might withstand an angry Gabriel. She ran up the gravel road leading to the wooden door in the fortress. The door flew open before she could knock to reveal a stern woman in a monk’s brown robes. The gravity of her features fell away as she tilted her head, smiled then flung her arms around Deidre in a tight hug.
“I knew you’d come back,” she whispered.
“Come on, come on.” The woman said, tugging her into the convent. “We’ll have tea.”
Shaking, Deidre wiped her face and followed the severe woman through the simple, stone fortress outfitted with electrical wiring and occasional satellites. Did heaven need satellite television?
They entered a dark dining hall, where a pot of tea and two tea cups sat waiting for them next to a carafe of amber alcohol at the table nearest the entrance.
“Sit, dear! I made it the way you like it.” The woman before her was truly happy to see her. “I’m Daniela.” She held out a saucer and cup.
I dive off a building, and now I’m having a tea party?
Uncertain what else to do aside from have a mental breakdown, Deidre accepted the tea. The china chattered in her trembling hands. Daniela observed her for a moment then replaced the cup with a glass filled with the alcohol. Deidre drank it down, hissing at the burn of the harsh liquid. Daniela refilled the glass without asking, and Deidre drank more. The warmth of the alcohol filled her. It felt real, which meant this place was real.
“Where am I?” Deidre managed at last.
“Sanctuary. A place of refuge. You’re safe here.”
“Safe from what?”
Daniela shrugged. “Whatever you’re running from.”
“Gabriel,” Deidre said. “He killed my boyfriend.”
“Did he?” Instead of the horror Deidre expected to see, Daniela’s face warmed even more, softening the skin around her eyes. “He really does care about you.”
Deidre couldn’t manage a response to such a ridiculous statement. Daniela didn’t seem completely insane, but who else said things like that? Deidre drank more of the brandy, until it stopped burning her throat, and the world grew a little less sharp around the edges.
Daniela’s head twisted to the side, and she frowned. “I hate it when he visits.” She stood and walked to the door, saying nothing more.
Deidre slumped and held her head up with her hands. She heard Daniela outside the dining hall, lecturing someone. Deidre rose, eyes settling on the doorway leading into the neighboring kitchens. Wobbling after the alcohol, she crossed the dining hall, hoping to find a way back to reality. Or heaven. Or … somewhere else.
The kitchens were dark. Loaves of bread were rising along one counter beneath thin cloths. It smelled of chicken and rice and something sweet. The scents were real enough and made her realize she hadn’t eaten all day. One whole wall was lined with homemade brandy.
Deidre stretched upwards to grab another carafe. She heard voices in the dining room, one distinctly male. Terrified Gabriel was coming to kill her, she sought a place to hide, finally settling on a small, dark space under a counter.
She sat as far from the opening as she could, brandy clenched in shaking hands. The footsteps of those entering the kitchen were solid against the stone floor. A pair of legs paused in front of her cubby hole.
“You can come out or I can drag you out.” While male, this voice wasn’t Gabriel’s. This one was more of a growl, part human, part something else.
Deidre rested her forehead against her knees, tears on her face. The speaker crouched, a muscular man with liquid silver eyes. He wasn’t human, either. He reached in and snatched the brandy. Deidre pushed herself against the wall.
“Why do you insist on giving our women alcohol?” he demanded of Daniela, who stood beside him. “You know it’s against the Code.”
“If you didn’t bring them here either half-eaten by demons or thinking they’re dead, they wouldn’t need alcohol,” Daniela snapped.
Demons. Deidre hadn’t landed in heaven; she’d landed in hell. Was it for killing herself or for killing Gabriel? She squeezed her eyes closed, ears buzzing and tunnel vision forming.
The man’s arm wrapped around her and pulled her out of the hiding place. She shook too hard to resist. He grunted as he swung her up in to his arms and carried her away. Probably to be thrown into a lake of fire.
“You were banned from here,” Daniela sounded angry.
“You’re welcome for convincing Gabe not to knock down the rest of your walls to get to this one.”
Their voices warbled, until he set her down. A charge of fire tore through her, and Deidre’s eyes flew open. She gasped.
“Coffee. Now.” The man with silver eyes barked at Daniela.
The woman in brown glared at him but stalked towards the kitchen. He sat down across from Deidre, and she would’ve tried to run again, if her body worked right. Solid and menacing, the man across from her was staring at her as if trying to determine if she was edible.
“This is hell, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“Not even close,” he said, amused.
“Am I dead?”
“Yes and no. It’s a really good story. Once upon a time - ”
“The leader of the Council does not discuss these things!” Daniela said sternly. She emerged from the kitchen with a tray laden with coffee and its accoutrements, a slice of pie and water. “Discretion, Rhyn.”
“I’m not dead?” Deidre said. “Or I am?”
“No, you’re not dead,” Daniela answered with a sharp look at Rhyn. “Gabriel brought you here through the shadow world.”
“Which is located near my apartment building,” Deidre said, needing the brandy again already.
“What’d you do to piss him off?” Rhyn asked. “He’s a raving lunatic out there right now.”
“Piss him off?” Deidre repeated. “He killed my boyfriend! Chopped his head off right in front of me!” Her throat was too tight to say more.
“Good man. I would’ve done the same.”
Deidre had the sense of being late to a conversation. She wasn’t able to catch up, though, not with the absolute weirdness of it all. Alcohol buffered her from her all-out panic, enough so that she was able to sip coffee without dropping the mug. At the strong flavor, she glanced at Daniela, who winked. The coffee was half-filled with brandy.
“Gabriel is Death,” Rhyn said.
Deidre looked up. “You said he was alive.”
“Death, not dead. Soul collector, grim reaper, death-dealer, assassin, Keeper of Souls. Death,” he said. “That’s why he wears the trench coat all year round. The underworld doesn’t have direct sunlight.”
“I’ll play along.” She held her face in her hands. “He wants to kill me, because he’s Death and that’s what Death does.”
“Oh, no.” The man’s chuckle was terrifying.
Daniela slapped him on the back of the head.
“Goddammit, woman, I heard you the first time!” he snarled at the nun. With an annoyed shake of his head, he addressed Deidre again. “He’ll have to tell you that story. Anyway, now, by Immortal law, you’re his mate, so he legally has to protect you instead of get revenge. That’s why his name is on your back, by the way. You have a list of enemies longer than mine, and he’s obligated to protect you.”
“Of course,” Deidre said, fighting tears. She chugged the coffee.
“You’re handling this better than I expected.”
“Rhyn,” Daniela said with a sigh. “You’re clearly terrifying the girl.”
“She needs to learn her place fast.”
Deidre dropped her head into her arms, sobbing. Nothing they said made sense. All she could do was hope she passed out and awoke in her bed or on the beach or not at all. Her body grew heavy, and she slumped.
“You spiked her coffee,” Rhyn accused Daniela.
“And drugged her. She’ll be out in two minutes, but she should be …manageable when she wakes up. Now, catch her before she hits her head. She needs to rest.”
Rhyn muttered. Deidre felt herself lifted once more. Drunk and crying, she didn’t bother opening her eyes. She didn’t know where he took her, but he set her down on a narrow bed.
“Come find me if you want to know the story of you and Gabe,” he whispered for her ears only.
Out of
control, she curled on her side and tumbled into unconsciousness.
Chapter Six
