Grave Vengeance

by Lori Sjoberg

  Dmitri fired, his rifle set on full auto, and the spray of bullets cut through the two reapers standing in front of Patrick. One of the reapers fired as he fell, the shots going wide and pinging against the wall. A round hit Patrick, and he staggered to the side, but the Kevlar he was wearing prevented the bullet from penetrating his body.

  With hate in his eyes, Patrick swung the barrel of his shotgun toward Dmitri and pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening. Pain exploded in Dmitri’s body as the round plowed into his torso. He lost his balance and stumbled backward, gritting his teeth as he hit the ground.

  “Did you honestly think you could beat me?” Patrick stood a few feet away, his shotgun still trained on Dmitri. His lips twisted as he fired again, and the slug tore through Dmitri’s abdomen and lodged in his spine.

  Groaning, Dmitri rolled to his side. Below the waist, he couldn’t feel a fucking thing, and everything higher hurt like hell. His rifle lay a few feet beyond his reach. Where was Gwen? Frantic, he scanned the room and saw her lying beside one of the overturned chairs. A stray round must have hit her. Blood stained the side of her shirt, and she appeared to be unconscious.

  With his mind, Dmitri reached out to her. Wake up! No response. He tried again, screaming the command into her mind. This time she stirred, her eyes blinking open, and hope took root in his chest. Gwenya, I love you! Do you hear me? You are my soul and my life. Now I need you to get the hell out of here. I’ll keep Ziegler occupied as long as I can, but you’ve got to get up and get moving.

  “I’ll be doing the world a favor by getting rid of you,” Patrick snapped as he inched a little closer. With the toe of his shoe, he knocked Dmitri’s rifle across the room. He set his shotgun aside and pulled a pistol from his belt and racked a round in the chamber.

  Dmitri grinded his teeth, wishing he could reach the knife strapped to his ankle. With enough time, even the worst of his injuries would repair, but he doubted Patrick would grant him the luxury.

  He lifted his gaze to his enemy. “You think you’re better than me?” He laughed, but the sound lacked humor.

  Patrick scowled. “You’re a murderer.”

  “Yes, I am. And so are you. The only difference is that I never killed without cause.” He paused to cough, and it felt like his lungs were being ripped apart. “If I came to your door, you either saw something, knew something, or did something to bring me there. What’s your excuse for killing Gwen?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Which means you have none at all. Let her go, and her blood won’t be on your hands.”

  “She had her chance,” Patrick spat, the anger rising in his voice. “She could have helped me build a better world, but instead she chose to associate with the likes of you.”

  “Don’t fault the woman for having good taste.” Turning his head to the right, Dmitri coughed up blood. He spared a glance in Gwen’s direction. Her eyes were clearer than they had been before, and some color had returned to her cheeks. What are you waiting for, zaika? Get your ass moving!

  A furious blush crept up Patrick’s neck and the vein on his forehead bulged.

  The sound of more gunfire filled the night, followed by yet another explosion. The walls vibrated from the force of the impact, and the overhead lights dimmed.

  “They’re getting closer. If you want to live, I suggest you get the hell out of Dodge.”

  “You’re in no position to make threats.” Patrick’s words sounded brave, but the sheen of sweat on his forehead told a different story. He might be a fanatic, but he wasn’t a soldier and had no clue how to conceal his true emotions.

  “It’s not a threat. It’s an observation.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, observe this.” Crouching low, he jammed the barrel of his gun against Dmitri’s chest and fired.

  If Dmitri were mortal, he’d already be dead. But immortality kept him clinging to life in spite of the damage to his body. He coughed again, and blood spilled from his mouth and ran down his neck.

  “Not so tough now, are you?” Patrick stood, staring down at Dmitri with a look of pure triumph.

  Weakened from blood loss, Dmitri slumped against the concrete. With the exception of a tingling in the back of his throat, he couldn’t feel much of anything. The edges of his vision darkened and blurred. Pretty soon, he’d lose consciousness. He fought for clarity, stealing one last glance in Gwen’s direction. Either he was looking in the wrong place, or she’d moved. Considering his disorientation, he couldn’t say for sure.

  He hoped she’d managed to escape. If she could locate David, he’d lead her to safety. He clung to the thought because if she survived, it would make his misery worthwhile.

  Dmitri’s eyes popped open when he felt a tug on his soul. He felt it again, stronger this time, and he realized it was coming from Patrick.

  “Don’t fight it,” Ziegler said, his eyes slitted with concentration. With his mind, he’d latched on to Dmitri’s soul and was trying to tear it free from his body. “It’ll all be over in a minute.”

  Don’t fight it my ass. Desperate and determined, Dmitri dug in, using every last bit of his remaining strength to anchor his spirit to his body. If Patrick managed to rip his essence free, he could send Dmitri to judgment. And considering the stains that marked his soul, he had a pretty good idea where he’d be going.

  Another tug, and his grip loosened. His body grew weaker as he lost more blood, making it harder and harder to hold on. It was like hanging from a cliff by the tips of his fingers while the rocks crumbled beneath his touch.

  A movement caught his eye. It was Gwen, standing by the door, holding his pistol in her right hand. Leaning against the wall, she favored one side, and her chest heaved with each heavy breath. With an unsteady grip, she raised the gun in Patrick’s direction.

  For a second, Dmitri felt a glimmer of hope, right before Patrick ripped his soul from his body.

  Chapter 26

  “No!” Dmitri’s pain rippled through Gwen as his spirit was torn loose from its moorings. Hands shaking, she shot at Patrick, but the bullet went wide of its mark. The recoil of the gun was pure agony on her hands, but she refused to acknowledge the pain. She fired again, her aim steadier this time, and the round blew a hole through his upper arm.

  Patrick whirled around, a look of shock on his face. He raised his gun with his good arm and pulled the trigger, his eyes widening when there was a click instead of a bang. Misfire. “Don’t shoot!”

  Yeah, like that was going to happen. After adjusting her grip, she opened fire. Avoiding the Kevlar, she went straight for the head, and the impact shattered his skull. His mouth fell open in a silent scream as his body crumpled to the floor.

  Gwen dropped to her knees beside Dmitri. She sensed no life in his body. Not a trace of his soul. Tears stung her eyes as she reached out and touched a hand to his cheek. His skin was barely warm beneath her fingertips, his face frozen in a grimace. Overwhelmed by the crushing grief, a sob tore from her throat. He’d sacrificed his life for hers. How was she supposed to live with that?

  Mired in despair, she almost didn’t notice the faint beat of vitality in the room. When she finally recognized it, her breath caught. Could it be? Hope rose in her blood as she blinked a few times, forcing her mind to clear. Concentrating, she focused on the pulse, tracing it back to the source.

  It was coming from Patrick.

  She sensed two distinct souls within his body, locked in a battle for dominance. And even though he was on Patrick’s home turf, Dmitri was holding his own. With her mind, she separated the two warring spirits and latched on to Dmitri’s essence. Securing her grasp, she felt a rush of warmth as his soul merged with her body. Little by little, his essence distilled, and she became aware of his thoughts.

  My brave, beautiful Gwenya. Do you have any idea how much I love you? Never forget, you are everything to me, even after I’m gone.

  Gwen blinked, and tears ran down her cheeks. “I love you too, and I won’t forget, because you’ll be
here to tell me that every day.” Reversing the process, she mentally created a bridge to Dmitri’s body. This was uncharted territory for her. In all her years as a reaper, she’d never put a soul back into a body. Carefully, she guided his spirit back to the place where the connection had been severed. But rebuilding the bond was like trying to replant a tree after the trunk had been sawed in half. Desperate to restore him, she tried again and again until her head throbbed from the effort.

  With a growl of frustration, she closed her eyes and rubbed her aching temples. There had to be a way to make him whole again, but how? A sliver of doubt invaded her thoughts. Maybe his body had been dead for too long to repair the delicate connection. If that was the case, what would become of his soul?

  Forcing the unthinkable from her mind, she turned her attention to Patrick. At the moment, his body was badly damaged, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. Who knew what other tricks he had up his sleeve? Steeling her focus, she harvested his soul, not bothering to be gentle as she severed the link between body and spirit.

  Physically, mentally, and emotionally drained, Gwen sat on the floor and put her head in her hands. Dmitri’s spirit stirred within her body, but instead of anguish or anger, she felt the depth of his love, and knowing she’d failed him only amplified the ache in her chest.

  Patrick’s soul stirred as well, railing over the recent turn of events and scrambling to find a way free. Like there was any chance of that happening. Focusing inward, she brutally shoved the bastard’s soul into the special place inside her body that served as a holding cell for the recently departed. Once she pulled herself together, she’d shove him off to the next realm to contend with whatever fate awaited him.

  And how she hoped his fate would be horrific. For the trouble he’d caused, and the reapers he’d killed, and, most importantly, for taking the life of the man she loved. If she’d figured a way to stop Patrick sooner, none of this would have happened. She ran the past week through her mind, and in spite of her best efforts, she couldn’t think of a single way to change the outcome.

  For a second, the air around her cooled and shimmered. It could only mean one thing.

  “What took you so long?” she asked without looking at Samuel.

  “I would have arrived earlier, but Mr. Ziegler cloaked your location. It was impossible to determine your whereabouts until he was contained.” He nudged Patrick’s body with the toe of his shoe. “You did well. Fate will be pleased.” His gaze skimmed over the length of the room before coming to rest on Dmitri’s body.

  “What about Dmitri?” she asked, hopeful.

  Samuel cocked his head to one side as if perplexed by her question. “What about him?”

  “Well, aren’t you going to restore him?” As Fate’s right hand, there had to be something he could do.

  Samuel frowned as he slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too late. His body has expired.”

  “What?” Her heart dropped down to her stomach. “Then un-expire him.”

  “I’m sorry, but even I have my limits. When his soul was separated from his body, the link to his immortality was irreversibly damaged.”

  Gwen’s mouth fell open as the blood roared in her ears. “Are you telling me you can bring a mortal back from the dead but you can’t resuscitate a reaper?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Once destroyed, the spark of immortality cannot be reignited.”

  “That’s bullshit!” She fisted her hands to keep them from trembling. “He laid down his life for your sorry ass. Find a way to bring him back.”

  “I would if I could, but it’s beyond the scope of my ability.” He tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. “Now I need you to release Mr. Ziegler’s soul into my custody.”

  Yeah, like that was going to happen. “No.”

  Samuel grimaced. “What do you mean, no?”

  “No. Nyet. Nein. Non. I’m sure you can figure out what at least one of those means.”

  Samuel’s face flushed red with anger, but at that point Gwen didn’t really give a damn. He was sadly mistaken if he thought she’d give up Dmitri without a fight.

  “Insubordination will not be tolerated, Miss Peterson.” Barely restrained power rolled off him in waves. He wasn’t used to his minions making demands, but that wasn’t her goddamn problem. “Relinquish Mr. Ziegler’s spirit this instant or—”

  “Or what? You’re going to choke me? Torture me? Send me to judgment?” She let out a bitter bark of laughter. “Give it your best shot, asshole. But you better be ready to act on those threats because I’m not giving up Patrick unless you bring back Dmitri.”

  Samuel’s eyes darkened, and the air in the room crackled with energy. An invisible force wrapped around Gwen, restricting her movements and the ability to breathe.

  “What are you … waiting for?” she gasped. Lungs burning, she glared darts at Samuel. “I don’t have … all damn day.”

  The force around her body constricted. She cried out as her broken ribs dug into her lungs and spots danced in front of her eyes. It wouldn’t take much longer before she passed out from the lack of oxygen. Maybe that was when Samuel would finally end her existence and send both her and Dmitri to judgment. At least they’d go together. Her hearing dimmed until she heard nothing but the sound of her own weakening heartbeat. Fading … fading … fading …

  “That’s enough,” a woman’s authoritative voice said from a few feet away.

  The crushing pressure released, and Gwen found herself gasping on the floor. Chest heaving, she looked up and saw a small, slender woman standing behind Dmitri’s body. She appeared to be in her late forties, with gentle features, soft hazel eyes, and shoulder-length, salt-and-pepper hair. She wore a pale blue housedress and matching low heels that looked like they came straight from the set of Leave It to Beaver. If Gwen didn’t know better, she’d say the woman looked a bit—no, she looked a lot like—

  “Mom?” No. That’s impossible. A ball of emotion lodged in her throat, and tears welled up in her eyes. Her mother died of cancer in 1958. She’d sat by her mother’s bedside during those rough final weeks, held her hand when she took her final breaths. After she passed away, Gwen and her younger brother had picked out her casket and laid flowers on her grave.

  “No, child. My kind possess no corporeal form, so I chose one you’d find familiar.” The voice was her mother’s, but with a lilt that gave it an ethereal quality.

  Gwen didn’t know how to respond to that, so she kept her big mouth shut.

  Posture rigid, Samuel dropped to one knee, his gaze riveted to Fate’s petite form. “My lady, is it safe for you to be here?”

  “You worry too much, Samuel. I’ll be fine.” Fate shot him a look that was somewhere between affection and impatience before turning her attention to Dmitri. “He served us well over the years, did he not?”

  “Yes, my lady.” Samuel rose to standing and clasped his hands behind his back. The look he gave her bordered on reverence. “He was one of your wisest choices. His final acts of bravery and sacrifice should be sufficient to purify his soul.”

  “Hmm, yes.” Her heels clicked against the concrete as she circled Dmitri. “Pity. I had such plans for him.”

  “Plans?” Gwen asked. “What plans?”

  Either she missed Gwen’s question or chose to ignore it. Looking up, Fate asked her, “Do you love him?”

  Like the answer wasn’t obvious. “Yes.”

  “Cherish him?”

  “Completely.”

  With a cock of her head, Fate pinned her with an inquisitive stare. “Are you willing to forfeit your soul for his?”

  Her chin tipped up. “Without hesitation.”

  “That’s all I need to know.” Fate smiled. “Give me your hand.”

  “Why, what are you going to do?”

  “You’ll see. Have faith.”

  At this point, what did she have to lose? Casting aside her reservations, she inhaled deeply and then extended her arm. When Fate grippe
d her hand, a pulse of electricity bolted up Gwen’s arm and flashed through every nerve in her body. A tingling sensation followed, and in the blink of an eye her injuries healed. The experience wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, but it still managed to unnerve her.

  “Relax, child,” Fate said, her tone warm and soothing. “Come.”

  She kneeled down beside Dmitri’s body, gently tugging Gwen along with her. With her free hand, she touched Dmitri’s face, his hair. Her open palm came to rest over his rib cage. “Place your hand on his forehead,” she told Gwen.

  Without asking why, Gwen followed her instructions. He’d been dead for so long that his skin now felt cool to the touch. She sensed no spark of immortality in his body, just the hollow shell of the man she loved. His soul stirred within her, as if reacting to the depth of her distress. Eyes burning, she pushed back against the grief that threatened to overwhelm her.

  Fate’s lips parted as her eyelids drifted shut. The air shimmered and rippled as if it were water, and then a burst of raw power surged through Gwen, so strong she nearly lost her grip on Fate’s hand. Little by little, her muscles loosened, and her control over the space confining Patrick and Dmitri’s souls uncoiled.

  Terror seized her. “What are you doing?”

  “Making things right.”

  Another surge of power, and she lost her grasp on Patrick’s soul. Fate drew his essence from Gwen’s body and pulled it into her own.

  “No!” If Fate had the power to seize Patrick’s soul, she could do the same with Dmitri’s. In a panic, Gwen tried to break free of Fate’s hold, but her muscles refused to obey her commands. “Let me go!”

  Fate turned her head in Gwen’s direction. Her expression seemed friendly enough, but Gwen knew that meant absolutely nothing. Over the years she’d learned that terrible things often wore a pleasant disguise.

  “Faith, remember?” Fate smiled, the serene look on her face so mesmerizing that all of Gwen’s remaining defenses collapsed.

  Another burst of power rippled through her, gently prodding Dmitri’s soul from its refuge within her body. His essence traveled down the length of her arm, past her fingers, and back into his own lifeless body. One by one, his injuries healed, until his body was fully restored.