by Lisa Medley
“Deacon killed one. Kylen took care of the rest.”
Maeve whistled through her teeth, obviously impressed. “Well, what merry little nightmare you three are. Nice work.” She walked to the doorway and peered out into the alley, looking both ways.
“Gotta run. There are still plenty of demons out there waiting for a girl to take a break and steal some newly departed souls. No rest for the weary or the wicked.” She grinned at him. “Watch out for cats. All of them.” With that final comment, she stepped through the doorway, vanishing into the darkness of the alley.
Nate hesitated, wondering if Kylen was still nearby, and if so, whether he’d had anything to do with the imps. Could it be a coincidence that six bodies had vanished in the past twenty-four hours, all in Kylen’s wake? One thing was for sure—Deacon needed to know what was going on. If Kylen was responsible for this, Deacon might be the only one who could do anything about him.
Chapter Fifteen
The first light of dawn broke across the horizon as Kylen stepped onto the consecrated ground of the downtown cemetery in Meridian. Nine hours had passed since they’d left to hunt the demons. His clothes were crusted with blood and worse things, and his chest was filled with a crushing weariness that he feared he might never beat back.
It had been a long night, and he’d spent the past few hours laboring to recreate Olivia’s list while drinking the contents of the now-empty fifth of Jameson that was perched on the headstone behind him.
It boggled and amazed him that she had completed nearly everything on the crisp new list that was carefully folded in his cargo-pants pocket. He hadn’t done any of those things, and he’d been alive for more than two hundred years. Of course, the past hundred hadn’t exactly been his own, but still… He couldn’t help feeling like he’d squandered most of his life.
There hadn’t been much free time to pursue any personal interests not related to his vocation. His parents had been reapers, his friends had been reapers, and his lover had been a Valkyrie. The very human pleasures and dreams on Olivia’s list were oddly appealing to him as a testament to the true power of free will, of choosing one’s path and living it.
Life and death had always been intertwined with his existence, but now they felt closer than ever before. The veil had become all but transparent after Kara’s death, and now he felt…what? Why was he even wasting his time considering anything as trivial as his feelings? They didn’t matter. He had a mission and that was all.
That was all.
Maybe if he kept repeating that as a mantra, he’d begin to believe it.
He lifted his eyes toward the eastern sky. The horizon had split into layers of gray and bright white light. He wondered—briefly—what colors it was. With dread and anticipation, he allowed himself to be drawn back to the house through the consecrated subway.
* * *
The house was in chaos.
Confused by the yelling emanating from Nate’s bedroom, he drew his scythe instinctively, certain they were under attack. He raced to the doorway, assessing the threat.
Nate leaned over Olivia’s limp body, which lay on the hospital bed once again, his mouth pressed over hers. All sane thought left Kylen’s brain, and he drew the scythe back without even realizing what he was doing. Ruth’s scream brought him back to his senses.
“Kylen! No!”
He hesitated. Lowering his weapon, he realized with fresh terror that Nate was attempting CPR on Olivia.
What the hell is going on?
“Ruth, the AED, now!” Nate cut through Olivia’s shirt with a pair of surgical scissors, shearing it up the center. He cut through her black bra as well, exposing her breasts and the translucent white skin of her chest.
All of the blood drained from Kylen’s brain, pooling in a clump in the center of his own chest.
Nate ripped open the box containing the defibrillator and powered on the device. After tearing the backing from the two yellow pads, he slapped them roughly across Olivia’s chest, and then stood back while the machine kicked into gear.
“Shock advised. Please stand back. Charging,” the machine directed.
Nate and Ruth backed away from the bed and raised their hands, poised to act once the AED delivered its jolt of energy. A light blinked rapidly as the machine activated.
“Shock advised. No one should touch the patient. Please stand clear. Press the flashing orange button now,” the machine advised in its mechanical voice.
Nate pressed the button.
Olivia convulsed on the bed, her back arching off the table before falling back again.
“Shock delivered. It is now safe to touch the patient. Continue CPR for two minutes,” the machine continued.
Nate immediately resumed compressions.
“Stand back. Reassessing heart rhythm,” the machine directed.
A lifetime passed before the machine proclaimed, “No heart rhythm detected. Resume CPR until help arrives.”
Kylen’s legs threatened to give way beneath him.
Nate continued administering CPR to Olivia for several more minutes, pumping her chest and breathing for her, until Ruth placed a hand on his shoulder.
“She’s gone, Nate. There’s no aura.”
Kylen’s own heart stuttered to a halt, and he sucked in a rasping breath. It was true—the glow surrounding her had diminished to nothing.
No! It isn’t time yet!
Nate backed away from the bed, bending forward in exhaustion, pressing his hands into the tops of his thighs. Ruth led him over to his bed and helped him lie down.
“What happened to her?” Kylen managed to choke out, his throat tight, his eyes fixed on Olivia’s frail body.
Ruth’s hands shook as she pulled a light blanket over Nate. “She was on the couch. I thought she was still asleep.” The words caught in her throat and tears welled in her eyes. “When Nate got home a few minutes ago, we tried to wake her. Her heart had stopped. We weren’t sure how long ago. I guess she was already gone, Kylen.”
Kylen walked over to Olivia’s prostrate form and stared down at her, his chest tightening.
You’re giving up too easily! You still have work to do.
With his back to Nate and Ruth, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the list. Reaching forward, he took her small hand in his, turning her wrist until her fingers rolled open. He uncurled her tiny hand and placed the list in her palm, closing her fingers around it with his. Like before, electric blue sparks danced unbidden from his hand, traveling through her fingers before following a path up the veins of her arms. Kylen watched with awe as the energy moved beneath her translucent skin, filled her chest cavity and then burst outward in every direction like a star.
“What the hell are you doing to her?” Nate asked, rushing to the bedside.
Kylen couldn’t tear his hold from her hand if he’d wanted to… The room flared to life as his vision erupted into brilliant color once again. He gave Olivia what little energy he had left, allowing her body to pull from him what she needed.
He fell to his knees, still gripping her hand, his cheek pressed against the coolness of her sheets.
The AED beeped to life. “Normal heart rhythm detected. Cease CPR. Await further medical assistance.”
The last thing he remembered was Nate physically trying to break his hand free from Olivia’s.
Then, blessed darkness.
* * *
Kylen was in Hell, weaving down the long, torturous stone hallways that grew progressively more claustrophobic and darker the lower he traveled. There were many levels of Hell, and Orithidon, his particular demon, was highly enough ranked that he was welcome everywhere except for the private chambers of Lucifer. A fact that Kylen knew caused the fiend dismay. It was a point of contention between them, the one tool Kylen had that could incite the demon to something akin to an emotional reaction. It drove the bastard out of his mind when Kylen taunted him with the unfairness of his position. After all the souls he’d personally retrieved fo
r the greater evil, he was still not welcome in the innermost circle?
It was maddening to the demon.
As they trudged down, level after level, the sounds grew softer. The sharp keening from the sea of the dead in the entry-level arena was muffled this far down. But the misery here was palpable.
The demon’s excitement at being this close to the threshold of his king and commander began to ebb the nearer they got, but he still pressed on. He wanted praise for his accomplishments. Wanted acknowledgement for a job well done. He craved the attention as a child would from a parent.
The temperature grew warmer, and sweat beaded across Kylen’s forehead and trickled down his back. The demon’s second thoughts were betrayed by a shiver that shimmied up Kylen’s spine. The demon hesitated. Turned around. He’d meant to walk right up to the chamber door and demand an audience. A plan Kylen had silently encouraged because the chances of a swift physical death were all but ensured.
Kylen’s soul would never make it out of Hell, but at least he wouldn’t be an active participant in helping to propagate it.
The door within sight, the demon’s resolve crumbled, and he retreated.
“Coward.” Kylen prodded.
The demon didn’t answer. He just made his way back, up and up and up, bursting into Hell’s receiving area.
So much for a swift death.
* * *
Olivia opened her heavy, heavy eyelids before letting them fall shut again. The quick glimpse confirmed she was once again on the hospital bed in Ruth’s house. Although her eyes refused to obey her commands, her ears worked fine. She could hear voices in the living room. They were talking. About her.
“How could this have happened? She’s human. That much energy should have killed her,” Deacon said.
“It was amazing. It was like she drew it from him, Deacon. He wasn’t doing it to her. Maybe that’s the trick.” This time the speaker was Ruth.
“She’s steadily improved since it happened,” Nate interjected. “I can’t do any blood work here, but her vitals are good. She should wake up soon.”
“And Kylen?” Deacon asked.
“He’s in the trailer. I hauled his ass out there, juiced him up with a nutrition IV—again—and he’s sleeping like a baby. He was wiped, and he smelled like he’d been swimming in whiskey,” Nate said.
“He was drunk?”
“Drunk? Hard to tell since he was unconscious as soon as it was over, but he sure smelled that way.”
Olivia tried to force her eyes open again.
Baby steps, she reminded herself. Come on! You can do this.
She drew in a deep breath and tried again. Her head felt dizzy, and when she opened her eyes again, it was as if the room was rolling by in still pictures with every other frame missing. When she brought her hand up to steady her aching head, the IV needle shifted under her skin.
People need to stop poking needles into me already!
She reached over to grab the edge of the bed, hoping to maneuver herself into a sitting position, and her hand brushed something that had been tucked under her hip. She closed her fingers around it and, with a herculean effort, brought it to her chest. It was a folded piece of paper. Rolling gingerly onto her side, she unfolded it.
Her vision began to steady as she scanned the neatly lettered page, and tears filled her eyes unbidden. It was her list. Someone had rewritten all sixty items.
The completed ones were crossed through with a ruler-straight line of black ink, exactly as they’d been on her original copy.
How?
Kylen was the only one who knew about the list. Or about the paper, at any rate. She hadn’t actually told him what it was. She felt her cheeks redden when she thought of him copying down some of the items.
Like #58.
She folded the paper carefully and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans as her stirring caught the attention of those gathered in the living room.
“Olivia!” Ruth cried, rushing to her side. “Oh, Olivia. You’ve got to quit scaring us like that.”
Nate followed Ruth, easing her aside so that he could tend to the IV. He backed the needle out, and the relief was instant. She was so going to have to impose a no-more-needles policy with these people. And maybe a do-not-resuscitate at some point. They might never let her die in peace at this rate.
“Thank you. Again,” Olivia said.
“You’re welcome,” Nate said. “But I think Kylen did more for you than we did.”
“How?” Olivia asked. “And where is he?”
“Sleeping off a long night—and now day—in his trailer,” Deacon offered.
Olivia pushed herself into a sitting position with great effort and glanced out the window. The sun was setting. “What time is it?”
“It’s evening, nearly dusk,” Deacon said.
“And what day is it?” She’d lost track.
Ironic that I can still lose track of the days when they’ve become so precious.
But she had.
“Saturday, September 22,” Nate answered.
“The equinox,” Olivia sighed.
“Well, now we have all the more reason to celebrate, Olivia. Do you feel like a shower? Can I help you with that? And maybe find you some more comfortable clothes?” Ruth offered. “I’m afraid some of yours got destroyed during the whole saving-your-life thing.”
Olivia peeked under the light blanket she hadn’t realized she was clutching to her chest. Her shirt and bra were shredded.
Good grief. At least she had pants on this time.
“A shower would be good. And a shirt. And maybe some help walking to the bathroom, I think,” Olivia said.
Ruth gave the others the heave-ho, and they scattered without further comment. They were well trained. Taking Olivia’s arm, she helped ease her off the bed. Olivia sighed with relief. It appeared as if her legs were actually functional, and the fuzziness in her head was starting to ease up as well.
They walked slowly to the bathroom together. “Don’t worry, Olivia. I’ll go find something for you to wear while you clean up. You’ll feel like a new woman after this shower.”
“Thank you.”
Olivia sat on the edge of the tub while Ruth started the water for her and laid out a fluffy towel and washcloth like the ultimate concierge.
They had treated her well…when they weren’t sticking needles into her. Even then, she knew it was because they were trying to help her. But she also knew that she was a stray they wouldn’t be able to keep.
“There you go. Back in a jiffy. I’ll set the clothes on the vanity for you. If you leave the rest of your clothes out, I’ll wash them again.” Ruth smiled and leaned forward, giving her a gentle hug. She pulled the door closed behind her when she left.
Olivia removed the list from her pocket and slid it under the tissue box, lest this one suffer the fate of the first.
Another day gone! And tonight is the equinox?
She’d already missed the light half of the day. At least she’d be awake for the darkness. Tonight, she would complete #55 sleep under the stars on the fall equinox. Nothing could stop her. She was determined.
She stepped into the shower and adjusted the temperature, letting the cool water rush over her body and hair. Goose bumps prickled her skin, but she already felt more awake—stronger. How she could go from unconscious to strong in a few short minutes, she didn’t understand. This cancer was such a roller-coaster ride. But for now, she was strong Olivia once again. Something about the light Kylen continued to share with her was prolonging her life in a way no drugs ever could have, but she couldn’t even let herself hope that it might be a cure. What she could hope was that she could hang on for a little while longer. And that would be enough.
Washing her hair and body, she wondered at the stickiness on her chest. Was it from some medical intervention they’d tried on her? She scrubbed off the gluey residue and finished with a hot blast of water to warm her skin.
Stepping out of the sh
ower, she spied the clothes Ruth had left for her, and toweled off. Black yoga pants, a black long-sleeved T-shirt, and a bright blue fleece jacket. Ruth had even thought to bring underwear and a too-big sports bra.
Weird, but better than nothing, she thought, thankful that she wouldn’t have to go commando. The bra wasn’t all that necessary, though. She’d lost so much weight that she had the profile of a preteen boy.
As she reached for the clothes, the steam cleared in the bathroom, and she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Once again, she was startled by what she saw. Her hair was the most shocking until she saw something truly strange—a faint trace of light blue ran beneath the surface of her skin from the hollow of her neck to the top of her pubic bone.
What is that all about?
She was falling apart, disintegrating before her own eyes, and now her body was starting to resemble a roadmap.
All the more reason to finish that damn list.
Chapter Sixteen
Deacon stood outside Kylen’s trailer, fist raised, ready to knock. “You sure this is a good idea?”
“After what he did? Yes. Is he the best guy for the job? Absolutely not, but apparently, that’s not up to us,” Nate said.
“How long do you think her heart was stopped?” Deacon backed away from the door so that he could look at Nate.
“I have no idea. But she was dead and gone. Ruth said her aura was gone, and the AED detected no heart rhythm. We thought she was toast. We shocked her…then nothing. I’m telling you, Deacon—he saved her life. Again. Without his energy? I don’t know how long she’ll last. At least we know that his energy won’t kill her. We don’t know that about the rest of us. Considering how weak she is already…”
Deacon tipped his head back, looked up at the sky and sighed.
He rapped on the door. “Kylen, we’re coming in.”
When there was no answer, he pulled it open and went inside.
Kylen was crammed into the bottom bunk, snoring like a freight train. Deacon could smell the alcohol fumes from the doorway. If he lit a match, they’d blow sky-high.
Dumbass.
