by Lisa Medley
Freakin’ reapers pushed and pushed themselves, all of them, Ruth included, and she’d only been a reaper for just over four months. Officially, anyway.
Well, they weren’t indestructible. Just close.
Nate had become the family healer and magical protector by default when they’d discovered he had a few skills of his own. That and being the sole person in the house with an aura had made things…interesting. Everyone always seemed to know what he was thinking and feeling, but he had to read the others based on more cryptic clues. Well, now there was another person with an aura in the house. A white one.
What the hell is going on? he thought for about the millionth time that morning.
Nate rearranged Kylen’s massive body as best he could, aligning his arm to accept the nutrition IV he’d brought into the camper. He should have probably used three or four of these a week, but he always refused help when he was conscious. Kylen had been living on caffeine and hatred, for all Nate could figure. He’d been a sack of bones and determination after the exorcism, but he’d worked out like a fiend every day since. Even though he was still too thin, he was jacked, too.
For the life of him, Nate couldn’t figure out how the guy was still alive. Reapers seemed to run on a different set of metabolic rules in general, but based on his experiences with Deacon and Ruth, reapers needed tons of food to fuel them. He’d witnessed Kylen eat very little. Maybe he had a secret stash of candy bars under his bed? None of which it made any sense.
He plunged the IV needle into the back of Kylen’s hand and stuffed the IV hook under the mattress of the top bunk. He’d prepared the IV bag with a solid sedative as well as nutrition.
Dude would have some downtime, whether he liked it or not. No one died on his watch. And that included the white-haired girl Kylen had brought home, white aura or not. He did not relish breaking the news to Deacon that Kylen had not only brought home a sick stranger but was carrying souls. Shit was about to hit the fan. They didn’t have time for this nonsense. Sparing a glance toward the woods, which were now fully illuminated, he stepped from the trailer and headed back to the house.
Just another day in paradise.
* * *
Ruth was fussing around by the woman’s bedside when he returned.
“How is he?”
“Out cold. I juiced him old school. He’ll be a new man by nightfall. Better when he’s emptied of the souls.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I have no idea, but Deacon’s going to freak. Bringing a civilian into the middle of your home? Carrying souls against Rashnu’s will?”
Ruth ducked her head and fidgeted with her hands. “That’s not the only thing he’s going to freak out about.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been feeling…strange. I thought it was just anxiety. Adapting to everything, you know? But I took a pregnancy test before my shower, just in case.” Ruth smiled, but her expression filled him with dread.
“Don’t tell me—”
“I’m pregnant.” Her entire face lit up when she said it, but Nate felt his heart sink like a stone.
“Oh.”
He was trying to process the news, turn it into something positive, but while the thought of Ruth potentially fighting demons was worrisome, the thought of her trying to protect an infant in this house with demons and imps and fallen angels on the loose was nearly more than he could bear. Nate was reasonably sure this would push Deacon right over the edge.
“That’s it? Oh, is all I get?”
“Oh, shit? Congratulations?”
“It’s not like we were trying. It just happened. Deacon didn’t think it could and then…it did.”
“You have to tell him, Ruth. Tonight. Don’t make me keep this secret. We don’t know what complications there could be with you…and him being reapers. Tell him.”
“I will. I promise. Soon.”
Nate sighed.
It wouldn’t be soon enough.
Chapter Six
Kylen gazed down at her in the sunlight. Her hair damp from exertion, sand twinkling like glitter on her skin, and a light sheen of moisture glistening between her breasts, Kara smiled up at him. She was so beautiful. He didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve this much happiness. She reached up and pushed his hair back from his eyes, leaning up to kiss his forehead. This was their favorite place, this stretch of beach on the coast of Haiti.
He hovered over her, stroking her fair skin and clutching a handful of her silky, straight, white-blond hair. She was visibly striking—her looks the first indication of her ferocity. Even as a child, she’d exuded an intensity that intimidated everyone around her. Everyone except for Kylen. He’d accepted her strength as a challenge and somehow managed to tame her. Or so he kidded himself.
If Kara was tamed, it was at her inclination. Not his. He could live with that. And in this moment, in the afterglow of making love to her, as her green eyes searched his, it was more than enough. It was everything. He bent to take her mouth, and she moaned, raising her hips to him. He’d never get enough of her body. Of her. Never. Not here on this beach. Not anywhere.
Kylen jerked awake to a laser beam of sunlight streaming through his trailer window. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he realized it was only a dream, a memory. His cock thought otherwise, however, and was hard as a billy club in his fatigue pants.
He needed curtains to block out the sunlight…and for privacy. But he’d be damned if he was going to go all domestic and pick some out at Wal-Mart. No telling what he’d end up choosing. After all, his vision had returned to shades of gray as soon as he got back to the trailer.
Perfect.
If he had any clothes or linens to spare, he’d hang a shirt or a towel over the windows. He had neither. His level of maintenance was below low. Whatever the hell that was.
Raising his arm to cover his eyes, something sharp stabbed at the back of his hand.
What the hell? Fucking Nate.
The resident witch had doped him. No telling with what. He tore the offending sliver of steel from his flesh and threw it toward the door. It snapped back on the end of its tube and nearly took his eye out.
Wouldn’t that be perfect?
He slapped his head back against the thin camper mattress in frustration and grabbed the couch cushion he used as a pillow to cover his eyes.
How late is it? It felt late. Real late.
Afternoon late.
But it wasn’t late enough. He still had an entire day to burn. They hunted demons at night. The cover of darkness made things a little easier to hide from the civilians, and the demons were more active after sunset.
Lots of bad things could happen in the darkness. He should know. He did know. Last night in fact…the woman! He bolted upright, slamming his skull into the top bunk, nearly knocking himself out.
Stars exploded behind his eyes in bright white flares. More careful this time, he rolled out from under the top bunk and settled his feet on the floor. He’d tried to sleep in the larger bed on the opposite end of the trailer, but it seemed too big, too exposed. He slept better—when he did sleep—cocooned in the cavelike bottom bunk. The souls fluttered inside him, reminding him he still had work to do. After tugging on his boots, he pounded out of the trailer toward the house. The bright afternoon sun spiked into his eye sockets, and he had to close them, running half-blind to the back door.
He raced up the back steps and into the kitchen. The entire family was sitting around the table eating something that made his stomach twist and demand attention. It smelled wonderful. He squinted his eyes as they slowly adjusted to the less intense light of the kitchen, and he surveyed the room. Yep, the whole lot of them were present and accounted for. Kylen scowled, confused.
Where’s the woman?
“You looking for Snow White?” Nate asked.
“Is she…alive?” He realized he was terrified to hear the answer. His hands were sweating, and a trickle of perspiration ran between
his shoulder blades.
“She’s alive. But still unconscious.” Nate gave Ruth a wary look.
What aren’t they telling me?
Kylen stalked past the table with purpose, but stopped when Deacon stood in his pathway. Placing a hand on Kylen’s shoulder, he said, “First, let’s talk about why she’s here. Then you can tell us why you’re carrying souls. What happened?”
Talking was the last thing Kylen wanted to do. What he wanted, as rage built up inside him, was to break Deacon’s arm. He barely managed to tamp his emotions down.
“Take. Your hand. Off of me.”
Deacon held his hand in place for an eternity before lowering it to his side, slow and easy, never taking his eyes off Kylen’s. Stepping around him without another word, Kylen walked into the bedroom.
He sucked in a hard breath when he saw her. Her white hair was fanned out beneath her, surrounding her head like a halo. Her skin was pale, almost luminescent. He found himself memorizing her features, and he reached out a hand as if to touch her face. She looked like a goddess.
Fuck me.
Shaking his head, he tried to clear his betraying brain and restore his senses. Then he saw it. Faint at first, but the more he concentrated, the more obvious her aura became.
What the hell? What color is it? Why is it so bright?
He didn’t want to ask the rest of them what color it was. They already knew he was damaged. No need for them to know he could no longer make out colors.
Still frozen in the doorway, he eased forward, tentative and unsure, reaching for her on autopilot. She was so cold. As he closed his hand around her fragile fingers, warming them with his own, he felt a small charge of energy building between them without any conscious effort on his part. The glow, dim at first, built and changed—from nondescript brightness it transformed into cobalt-blue fire, leaking out between his fingers.
Blue?
When he looked back at her face, he was certain of what he saw this time. Her light was white. Bright white, save for the blue charge building between their touching hands.
What the hell?
Her hand warmed in his, the warmth drawing from his body into hers of its own accord. Her eyelids fluttered open for a moment before shutting again. His heart constricted in his chest.
Wake!
He wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs, but the word wouldn’t come.
Wake! he demanded again in his head.
Suddenly, she arched off the bed, her neck bending back as she thrashed her head side to side, her hair whipping across her face.
A seizure?
He wanted to call for Nate to come and tend to her, but he was paralyzed, his hand attached to hers as his energy poured into her. When her eyes opened again, she stilled stiff as a cadaver, and her obvious terror almost destroyed him.
His throat swelled and the lump there threatened to suffocate him. He sucked in another hard breath and closed his eyes to keep her gaze from searing his soul. What was he doing to her? And why couldn’t he stop himself?
“Shit. Nate, come here!” Deacon called from the doorway as he crossed over to Kylen and attempted to pry him away from the woman.
It took both men to break Kylen’s hold on her hand. When they did, Kylen slumped to his knees between them, completely exhausted. The woman had relaxed, melting back onto the bed, where she lay loose and boneless, her head turning to the side. Her eyes closed again, and perspiration beaded on her forehead.
“Her aura! It’s changed to blue. Deacon, do you see it?” asked Ruth, who had run into the room after them. She was gently stroking the woman’s forehead.
Deacon looked from the woman to Kylen, then back again.
“Let’s talk, Kylen. Now.” Deacon helped him to his feet, and Nate joined them as they walked back to the kitchen table, leaving Ruth to attend to the woman.
Chapter Seven
Nate set a full bowl of stew in front of him along with half a loaf of French bread, and Kylen’s stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. He picked up the spoon in one hand, the bread in the other and went at the meal like a man on death row.
Ironic.
Deacon sat across from him while Nate leaned against the kitchen wall. Both of them waited less than patiently while Kylen stalled, shoveling food into his mouth as he tried to collect his thoughts. Finally, Deacon succumbed to curiosity.
“Spill it, Kylen. How exactly did you manage to come by the woman? And what’s with the blue light?”
Kylen groaned, resigned to the inevitable interrogation that was to come. At least he felt a little better. A lot better, actually. He didn’t know whether to attribute his sudden good feelings to Nate’s interference with the IV or the stew. Or her, whispered an insistent voice in his head. For a few fleeting seconds, he almost allowed himself to feel…what? Relaxed? Peaceful?
No need to get carried away. He’d settle for rested. Anything else would be extravagant, all things considered.
“Kylen?” Deacon pounded on the table, snapping him out of his jumbled thoughts.
Kylen leveled his gaze at Deacon. God, he was a pain in the ass.
“I found her downtown. A demon was trying to possess her, and I stopped it.”
Deacon studied Kylen hard. “You mean the demon tried to take her soul before she had even passed?”
“Yes.”
“How is that possible? There are rules.”
“My demon stopped playing by those rules long ago, but he was an aberration. If any run-of-the-mill demon can do it now… Well, things are escalating and they’re only going to get worse. The lucky victims will die. The rest…”
“What?” Nate asked.
“The rest will wish they were dead.”
“What a freakin’ mess.” Deacon splayed his palms across the kitchen table and hung his head, eyes closed. “You killed the demon?”
“I stopped it. I killed the host.”
“Dammit! We can’t leave a trail of bodies around the city. Where is it? Nate and I will have to go clean it up.” Deacon pinched the bridge of his nose.
Kylen shifted in his chair. The last thing he needed was for them to know he still controlled the imps. They knew of his link to his dark side because of his ability to track the demons. That, along with his recent history, was reason enough for his loyalties to be questioned by the higher-ups, and he could see in Deacon’s eyes that their once rock-steady trust had evaporated.
“I took care of them.”
“Them? As in more than one? Demons or bodies, Kylen?”
“Bodies.”
“Shit.” Deacon rose from the table and splayed his hands on either side of Kylen’s bowl, leaning in close. “Did you kill them both?” His eyes practically threw off sparks.
Kylen looked up, rage boiling inside him at the insinuation. “No.”
“Explain. More than one word at a time, please.”
Angry anew at being treated like a petulant child, Kylen managed to repress his urge to rip his best friend’s head from his shoulders.
“I saw a junkie and a whore engaged in a transaction in the alley. Later, I heard a scream. When I went to investigate, the demon was fleeing its host and attempting to possess the woman who’s now in Nate’s room. I stopped it. She collapsed, and when I picked her up, I noticed that the whore was also dead behind a Dumpster. Since this one seemed to be salvageable, I decided to bring her back here so Nate could patch her up, as he’s been requesting to do for months now. He’s the one who thinks we can stop killing the hosts. His wish has been fulfilled. You’re welcome.”
“How exactly did you prevent the demon from entering the woman?”
Kylen exhaled, exasperated, and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I pushed it the hell out. I used my Reiki, and it fled.”
“And the souls you carry?”
“Without a vessel, the demon left them behind. I didn’t think you’d want me to leave them for the next available ride. Or did you?”
Deac
on rubbed his forehead as if he were trying to erase an unwanted thought. “Of course not. Can you find it again? The demon?”
“Yes.”
Nate pulled out a chair and sat at the table beside Kylen. “Is the woman supernatural?”
“I have no idea.” Kylen pushed his bowl away and clenched his hands together in front of him. His knuckles turned white as bone with the effort of self-containment.
“How could you have transported her through the consecrated subway otherwise?”
“I don’t know.” Kylen shifted again, uncomfortable.
“I think I know,” Ruth offered, walking up behind Kylen. She placed a hand cautiously on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Her light is white, Kylen.”
Kylen flinched under her touch.
“You may not have noticed it in the confusion, especially if you juiced her. But her light is bright white, except—it seems—when you first arrived back at the house and when you were with her a few minutes ago. Her aura turned bright blue, but then it began to wear off. She’s dying, Kylen. Whether from the attack or something else, she doesn’t have much longer. That may be why you were able to take her through the consecrated subway.… She’s almost gone.” Ruth squeezed his shoulder again, and he fought the urge to tear away from her touch. Violently.
So much for his peaceful, easy feeling. Rage boiled up inside him again.
Screw the whole lot of them.
The one time he made the effort to save a host…potential host…it was exactly as he’d predicted: a colossal failure. They might as well put her down now. At least Nate wouldn’t push him on the issue again. If this didn’t prove there was method to his madness, what would?
He cringed at the thought of harvesting her soul.
Deacon could do it. He wasn’t supposed to, anyway, and besides, he was done with the whole supremely effed-up situation. He considered bolting again, except he had his own soul issue to resolve and there were still six hours to go until full dark, when they could resume hunting. What the hell was he going to do? With the souls, with this situation? Sit around and rehash this entire debacle?
