by Lisa Medley
“Sleep under the stars on the fall equinox.” She wobbled again. “And that’s what I’m going to do.”
“You can’t sleep out here. You’ll freeze to death,” he said, keeping his fingers curled around her forearms.
“Well, that would certainly speed things up.”
He frowned at her again. Did the man have any other expression?
“Sit,” he said. “Don’t move. I don’t want to find you up in flames when I come back.”
Pushing her back into the camp chair, he hesitated for a moment, and then pulled her to her feet again, scooting the chair another three feet away from the coals. “Sit.”
She complied, feeling like a chastised dog. Seriously, she was fine.
Drunk, but fine.
Leaning her head back against the chair, she looked up at the night sky. Now that the fire was down to a few glowing embers and her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, stars started popping out of the sky like jewels dangling from invisible chains. She blinked. It was almost as if she could pluck one from the sky. Reaching up, she batted the air above her head in a half-hearted attempt.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kylen asked, appearing beside her with a sleeping bag and an armful of blankets.
“There are so many stars…”
Kylen looked up at the sky, and then back at her. Either that or he was rolling his eyes at her, which seemed unimaginable even in her drunken state.
She watched as he dropped the sleeping bag, and then spread the blankets on the ground beside her chair, well away from the fire.
“If you’re sleeping outside, you’re going to need this.” He unfurled the bag on top of the blankets and unzipped it.
He moved in front of her and stood there, towering over her. She stared up, up, up his torso. He’d pulled on a black fleece, which completed his dark ensemble.
The man in black. She giggled again.
“What now?”
“Is black the only color you wear?”
“Yes.” He reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet. She rose too quickly for her head to catch up, so she wrapped her arms around his waist for balance. He stiffened in her hold, his entire body as rigid as a mannequin’s, and stared into the forest behind her, purposely avoiding her gaze. She admired the sharp angle of his jaw and chin, and then leaned in for a more thorough ogle.
The wine was making her brave…or stupid.
Didn’t matter.
“You’re very handsome,” she said, expecting him to push her away.
“You’re very drunk.”
“Yes, I think I am. Another list item successfully accomplished. After tonight, I’ll only have ten left.”
He crinkled his forehead, his lips forming a tight, white line, and then looked down at her.
“Nine.”
“Nine?”
“You’ll have nine things left on the list after tonight.”
Confused, she tried to process what he’d said with her wine-drenched brain.
“Make the best dessert ever. You did that. #51.”
She felt a slow smile extend across her face as her heart raced in her chest. “You think so?”
“Ruth said so.”
“But do you think so?” she asked, all but begging him for the compliment.
“Yes.”
The electric blue sparks arced between them again, and she felt his energy flowing into her, filling her with light. It wasn’t painful or unpleasant. It never had been. But it was surprising and unexpected each time.
She swooned, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his hard body. A sudden heat built between them, and she pressed her lips to the hollow of his neck. Kylen scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the makeshift pallet in the grass. He lay her down on the sleeping bag, hesitated for a moment and then backed away from her, looking more than a little spooked.
Confused, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You need sleep.”
“What about you?”
He lowered himself into the camp chair where she’d been sitting, crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the now nonexistent fire. “I’ll keep watch.”
“Watch for what? Deacon said we were safe inside the perimeter, and I don’t plan on sleepwalking.”
“You have a way of finding trouble.”
She smiled. “Deacon seems to think so, too.” She snuggled down into the sleeping bag, lying on her back so she could look up into the sea of stars. “He doesn’t want to let me leave tomorrow to complete my list unless you’ll go with me. To protect me.”
Silence. Crickets. More silence.
She closed her eyes, willing him to respond. “Did you hear me? Will you go with me?”
Her voice sounded desperate even to her own ears. It felt like he held her future in his hands, like he’d be the difference between the success or failure of her mission. Yet another aspect of her life that was not under her control.
“Kylen…please.” She hated pleading, but it was the only weapon she had left.
She wouldn’t ask him again. Assuming she had her answer, she rolled away from him and closed her eyes. A tear slid down her face as she curled her knees up into her stomach, the ground cold despite the sleeping bag and the blankets underneath.
What felt like hours later, as she was finally drifting off, she heard Kylen rise and walk toward her. His steps crunched in the dry grass, but she stayed perfectly still, feigning sleep. She felt him draw another blanket over her. And then he did something unexpected—he reclined on the ground beside her.
She debated for only a moment, and then pushed herself against his stony length, soaking up his warmth. His blue energy flowed into her even through the many layers of cloth, seeming to saturate to her very soul. He was like a human electric blanket, and the heat between them seemed to promise so much more than a warm night under the stars. There was something between them, and even Kylen couldn’t deny it. Otherwise he never would have joined her on the ground.
He stayed as still as the dead behind her, feeding her with his energy and light.
She knew his answer. He would take her. He would protect her. Now it was up to her to follow through on the last items on the list.
Chapter Nineteen
As the birds began to wake in the morning woods, Kylen opened his eyes to the first rays of pink light streaming through the opening in the trees. The sky was vibrant with soft layers of violet, pink and orange. He didn’t know if he’d ever seen a more beautiful sunrise. Certainly not in the past four months while his vision was grayed out. He only hoped the colors would last this time.
The fact that Olivia lay curled against him, her snow-white hair fanned out behind her, made his heart feel slightly lighter, almost buoyant. Good God, he was going soft.
Get a grip.
He rolled out from under the blanket and stood, staring down at her. At least Deacon hadn’t come out to look for her yet. He didn’t care to explain why he’d spent the night in the backyard with her. The questions would never stop. He headed behind his trailer to relieve himself, and then went inside to brush his teeth. That was pretty much the extent of his personal maintenance routine these days.
Once inside the trailer, he decided to change into a clean set of clothes since his smelled like campfire smoke. Not that he minded, but…whatever. As his stomach let out a loud growl, he realized with surprise that he was starving. Olivia had drained a lot of energy from him over the course of the night. She still didn’t really know what was going on or how he was prolonging her life. Hell, he didn’t know much more than she did. All he knew was that every time they made any sort of contact, she drew energy from him like a current…without him even trying to juice her.
Well, as long as she needed him, he would help her.
He slid a fresh T-shirt over his head and tucked it into his black fatigue pants. Sliding his belt through the loops, he realized he needed to buckle it one notch looser. He’
d been eating a ton lately. Or at least much more than he had been over the past few months. It looked like he was finally filling back out.
Rolling up his pants one leg at a time, he strapped a sheathed push blade onto each calf. He would have liked to wear more, but he’d discovered that it sent the locals into fits of panic when he walked around in the daylight that way.
Whatever.
He wasn’t about to go anywhere unprepared.
Adjusting his belt yet again, he found himself thinking about how wispy-thin Olivia was. He’d watched her consume several good meals over the past couple of days, but it was going to take a lot more than that to get her to a healthy weight. Six meals a day, seven days a week, and a steady supplement of blue energy and maybe… Then came the sickening realization: time was the one thing she didn’t have.
A timid knock at his door spun him around.
“Kylen?” Olivia asked.
He cracked open the door, and she stepped back so that he could swing it wide enough for her to come through. She entered timidly, like she was slightly disappointed with the whole thing. He looked around his trailer, trying to see it through her eyes.
Yep, it was pathetic.
His entire life fit into one hundred and ninety-two square feet.
She sat on the edge of the big bed and folded her hands in her lap. “This is nice,” she lied.
“It’s a dump. But it’s mine.”
“Well, it certainly requires minimal maintenance. You could use some curtains, though.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Kylen.” Olivia looked down at her hands.
“For what?” he asked, confused.
“For sleeping with me last night. For recopying my list. For helping me complete it. It means a lot to me. You’re the only one who even knows about it.”
“I didn’t sleep with you.” And he hadn’t. He had just lain there beside her with a rock-hard cock and bad intentions, looking up at the stars as they slid across the sky. All. Night. Long.
“You know what I mean,” she smiled coyly. “So, when can we leave? I’d like to get started early.”
Kylen ran a hand through his hair. “Breakfast first. Yes?”
“Sure.”
“Then I thought maybe I could help you with another list thing.”
Olivia swallowed hard, her eyes big as cue balls. “Which one?”
“Number 56.”
She smiled. “Learn to use a weapon? What did you have in mind?”
Kylen turned and reached behind the neat stacks of black clothing on the top bunk, retrieving a long scabbard. He drew the scythe from the sheath carefully, and then flicked his wrist, brandishing it with a flourish.
“Oh my!” she squealed with delight. “Yes, that will work!”
Olivia reached for the weapon but he kept a firm grasp on it. She traced her thumb across the engravings on its handle. “It’s beautiful. Is it old?”
“Very.”
“Where did you get it? It looks like something out of Dungeons and Dragons.”
“It’s Valkyrie-made.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it’s valuable. So don’t break it.” Kylen folded the blade and slid it back into the scabbard, placing it behind his wardrobe. He hadn’t even looked at it since stowing it on the bed a few months ago. He told himself it only made sense to let Olivia use it. The weapon was stronger but also more lightweight than the scythe he carried himself. It was a woman’s weapon. It had been Kara’s and the demon had kept it as a souvenir, a taunt really, but Kylen had secretly found it a comfort and shielded his need for it in his heart. The weapon was his only remaining physical connection to Kara.
“Are you going to let me use it?”
“You have to eat breakfast first.” He walked to the door and pushed it open. “After you.”
* * *
Raised voices in the house brought them both to attention. Kylen drew the push blade from his leg sheath and shoved Olivia behind him as he entered the house through the laundry room, making as little noise as possible.
“Why did you wait so long to tell me?” Deacon thundered. “Dammit, Ruth, you’ve been putting yourself in danger. You’ve been putting the baby in danger.”
Kylen came to an abrupt stop at the word baby and surveyed the room. Nate sat on the couch, his hands pressing into his knees as if he were trying to hold himself down. Ruth was standing in the doorway to her bedroom, hands on her hips in defiance. The words domestic disturbance came to mind, and Kylen wanted to bolt for the trailer more than anything in this world or the next.
Olivia put a gentle hand on his back, and he felt the spark of her touch. They stood frozen in place together. Not sure whether to stay or go.
Deacon loomed over Nate, his finger pointed out like a weapon. “And you’re no better. You’ve known for how long? You’re a medical professional. This isn’t a game. Our job—our lives—are not conducive to creating or sustaining life. Or haven’t you two noticed?” He directed his anger back at Ruth. “I don’t even know how this happened. We’ve both been traveling the consecrated subway constantly…carrying souls…” He shook his head like he was trying to shake some sense into it. “It shouldn’t be possible to conceive a child that way. It hasn’t been done before. There’s no telling what horrors we’re in for now. Good God.”
Deacon sat down hard on the hearth, dropping his head into his hands.
The room was deadly silent.
Ruth walked over to Deacon hesitantly and came to a stop when she reached him. She took his head in her hands and pulled him to her stomach, holding him there as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Deacon, I didn’t know that traveling the subway while pregnant was dangerous. You didn’t tell me. I still have a lot to learn. We both do.” Ruth rubbed his back in slow circles.
His shoulders heaved once, twice, and then settled as he tried to pull himself together.
Nate walked over to them and put a hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “I have a friend who’s an OBGYN at the hospital. She’ll take a look at Ruth and make sure things are okay. I’ll drive her there now. She isn’t more than a few weeks pregnant, Deacon. If it’s meant to be, it will, no matter what the rules are. Nature finds a way.”
Nate walked into his room, nodding to Kylen on the way, and closed his door behind him. Ruth whispered to Deacon, her words too soft to be heard from Kylen and Olivia’s vantage point.
Kylen took Olivia’s hand and led her to the kitchen. “Looks like we’re eating out,” he said in an undertone.
He grabbed a box of cereal from one of the cabinets and handed it to Olivia, removing a gallon of milk from the fridge next. After taking two bowls from the cabinet and spoons from the drawer, he quietly left the house—Olivia behind him—and returned to the trailer.
* * *
“That was intense.” Olivia chased her last Cheerios around the bowl with her spoon.
“Yes.”
“Deacon didn’t seem very excited about the baby. How long have they been together?”
“Four months.”
“Oh. I guess that’s sort of sudden.”
“In our time, it’s not even a moment.” Kylen tipped his bowl to his mouth to drink his cereal milk.
“What do you mean? In your time?” Olivia leaned back in the small eating nook and looked at him quizzically.
“Ruth didn’t explain this to you?”
“Guess not. What is there to explain?
Kylen sighed. This is exactly why they didn’t mix with humans except while working. And the dead didn’t ask questions. Thank God.
“We have an exceedingly long life span unless we’re killed.”
“How long?”
“Centuries.”
“Oh.”
He could see her wheels turning as she tried to calculate how old he might be. “Two hundred and eight.”
“But you look like you’re in your late twenties, maybe early thirties.” She perch
ed her elfin chin on her hands, studying his features in uncomfortable detail.
“We stop aging as soon as we harvest our first soul. There’s an extensive training period from birth until the first reaping, and then time basically stops for us. As long as we avoid a beheading and make sure we fuel up enough, we can live indefinitely.”
Her eyes blinked rapidly as she processed his words. “Wow,” she said.
“You’d be surprised how boring living so long can be.”
“Well, I’d be willing to give it a try.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“You need to learn to appreciate what you have. And that answer was the longest sentence you’ve ever said to me.” She smiled up at him, her tone playful.
Kylen felt something dangerously close to a smile pull at the corners of his mouth, but he narrowed his eyes at her instead.
“Let’s go slice and dice something.”
Chapter Twenty
Olivia sat in the camp chair near last night’s fire ring, enjoying the play of the morning sun on her face while Kylen gathered materials for her lesson. When she’d added #56 learn to use a weapon to her list, she’d figured she’d probably go target shooting or something. Frankly, learning to use a scythe hadn’t even been on her radar. Who even used a scythe as a weapon?
She certainly had an answer now. Reapers.
It occurred to her that Kylen or one of the others might need to reap her soul. It was oddly comforting to know that it would be a friend who did the deed. She wondered if they felt the same way. Did they like knowing the people whose souls they carried or did they prefer to keep it all business?
As a direct result of her family’s health problems, she’d always wondered what happened to a soul after death. She’d sought answers from a variety of religions over the years before finally settling on her own cobbled version of faith and an afterlife—one that gave her solace and peace. Over the past few months the question had become especially pertinent. What happened to a soul after it was reaped? If she could get lucky enough to have another full-sentence conversation with Kylen, she’d ask him what would happen after she passed.
