Her backless gown gaped open, leaving her rear exposed to the world. She reached around to pull the opening shut and held it with one hand as she crept toward the door. This time she skipped, jumping from body to body, until she sighted in on a candidate. Her target stood by the nurse’s station fifty feet down the hall, holding a urine sample. Jocelyn seized control and stared down at the woman’s hand. “Hey you,” she manipulated the nurse and bellowed over to the reaper. Tracers were drawn to energy and she planned to give him something to chase. Fear produced a lot of energy and the nurse was terrified.
His head snapped around and he narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah, you.” Jocelyn forced the woman to heft the urine at him. “Catch!”
The reaper knocked the hurling container away, spattering piss all over the hall and his jacket. He glanced down at the stains and back up at her. A growl rumbled from his throat.
“Nice catch.”
He charged down the hall, knocking carts and people out of the way like a linebacker. His gaze was locked on and blazing.
Hold. The nurse twitched, fighting the urge to flee. Her stomach twisted and her throat closed, making it difficult to draw a breath. Relax, just a little bit longer. Her puppet swallowed and balled her hands into fists. Jocelyn’s vision fuzzed in and out. Damn. She’s fighting me. Not a good thing, since it would take more energy to maintain control. Jocelyn pushed back, forcing the woman’s compliance. Free will didn’t matter when her soul was on the line. The reaper would back off when he realized he’d targeted the wrong girl. Until then….
Hold. The woman’s feet shuffled backward. Come on, don’t do this. He needs to be closer.
With as much force as she could muster, Jocelyn screamed into the woman’s mind. I said hold! For a second she locked, standing frozen in one spot, and then natural instinct took over. The nurse whipped around and tore down the hall, her heart racing, one primary objective—escape—overriding any control Jocelyn had been able to maintain. Okay, we run.
She glanced back. Even though the nurse chose to flee, it ended up working for the better. The reaper might not be close enough to sense her energy in the woman, but he clearly had targeted her. This meant he was using visual means to track, instead of psychic. Less chance he’d catch that he had the wrong target until she’d lured him far enough away.
The reaper leaped over an upended cart and picked up speed. Good thing he wasn’t a shifter. A teleporter would be on her in seconds, and she needed to get him as far away from the room as she could, if she wanted to escape before he caught on to her smoke-and-mirror stunt.
Faster. She moved full bolt for the stairs. As soon as she ripped the door open and started down, Jocelyn let go of the nurse and shot toward her body. She rushed past the reaper and down the hall like a stone from a slingshot. He didn’t feel her pass, he was so focused on the nurse’s fear, which was a good thing. She doubted he’d fall for the trick a second time.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs and almost took her off her feet. Jocelyn grabbed the door to steady herself. She caught her breath and slipped from her room. She sprinted in the opposite direction, hoping she had enough time and distance to disappear before he noticed.
She bounced from person to person, borrowing the eyes of people who’d gathered to see what was going on. Popping from patients hanging their heads out of their rooms, to doctors, nurses, visitors, skipping from body to body down the hall, staying one step ahead of herself. She slid around a corner and faced off with another reaper, not ten feet from her. Her eyes traveled from the toes of his boots, up.
Shit.
Black hair, a dusky complexion, and an all-too-familiar brand in a tribal design that marred an otherwise perfect male specimen. The brand ran from his forehead, down the side of his face and neck, disappearing into a black T-shirt. Psycho reaper.
“Ian.”
“Jocelyn Miller. It’s been a long time.”
“This isn’t my day.”
“No, sweetheart.” The reaper tilted his head side to side, cracking his neck each time. “It isn’t.” Jocelyn backed up. A cold breeze from behind fluttered her gown and she spun around.
“Going somewhere?”
“I forgot you can teleport.”
“Yes.” He strode forward. Calm. He knew he had her. “Are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?” His ebony eyes cut into her like shards of obsidian.
“I’ll take option two.”
“I hoped you’d say that.” He yanked a long, black staff off his back. Red sparks danced from its surface, hissing like a cat. Ian was one of the old ones, a bit harder to take down than the young buck that had chased her earlier. He wouldn’t fall for tricks. Never did. Even worse, Ian gave soul suckers a bad name.
“Let’s talk about this, Ian.”
“What’s to talk about?” He shrugged and spun his staff. “This is going to hurt. I could make it quick, but the energy you give off when you feel pain—I get hard thinking about it.” He smiled and his eyes seemed to darken. “You do remember the last time we danced, love?”
Oh God, that. Unforgettable in all the wrong ways.
***
New Stratus City
Eight years earlier
“Where are we going?” Nate asked as Jocelyn prepared to circle the block for the hundredth time.
She downshifted. No idea what she was doing. Not going to admit it. She could only use the vehicle to escape if she had her brother’s eyes and promised herself she would only run if he stayed behind. What a rather inconvenient game of monkey-in-the-middle.
“Get out, Nate.”
“And you’re going to drive this vehicle how, without me?”
Everything looked quiet and the lights were off. No transporters sat on the street outside the house, but that didn’t mean anything. Since the Enforcers didn’t drive, they could still be waiting for her at the house. She could never go home and since she couldn’t go home, neither would he, and that was unacceptable.
For the last hour they’d circled and argued. Nate still refused to get out. He’d promised their mother he’d take care of her, and no amount of reasoning with him would convince him she didn’t need a babysitter.
Regardless that she couldn’t go back, Jocelyn wasn’t ready to face the reality of the situation, and definitely wasn’t ready to take him down with her. She needed to come up with a way to ditch him—leave him behind. She couldn’t. He’d made a point. Without him, she couldn’t see. Without him, she couldn’t drive her escape vehicle away, and the reapers would get her.
Convincing him to abandon her under these circumstances proved impossible. He wasn’t going to let her sacrifice her life. So here they were, in front of the house again, as though looking at it would change anything. She wasn’t taking him, and she wasn’t able to drive off without him. They couldn’t continue to do this. Soon she’d have to grab some courage and leave, and unfortunately, she’d have to take Nate with her.
“Jocelyn?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to think.” Which was hard when she was being hunted.
“Stop thinking. I told you I’m not getting out, and I’m not leaving you. Where you go—I go. You’re wasting the charge in this vehicle. We need to put as much distance as we can between us and that reaper.”
“Stop, Nate. I’m trying to figure it out.”
“You’re not ditching me.”
Jocelyn groaned and rolled to a stop in front of the house. Nate turned away from it, intentionally keeping her from seeing what she needed to. “Nate, look at the house. I can’t see it.”
“No. We need to get out of here.”
“Nate.”
“No.”
“Damn it, Nate. Would you look at the house? I need to see.”
Nate snorted and stared at the pavement, refusing to give her what she wanted. She watched through his eyes as the wind caught the leaves and sent them whirling across the road’s surface in a spiral dance. She growle
d under her breath, but he continued to stare at the debris, not caring.
“Please.”
“If we keep doing this, he’s going to come out of our house and see us. Then we’re done.”
“I’m done. You’re not involved.”
“Says the woman who’s borrowing my eyes to sort-of make her escape—if she’d actually leave the neighborhood.” Nate huffed and glanced at the front door. “Happy?”
Jocelyn put the vehicle in gear and began to drive again.
The door opened and a tall reaper ducked from the entrance and onto the porch. The streetlights flickered and popped off, leaving only a set of red glowing eyes fixed on them like a laser sight.
“Oh, shit. You better get this thing going. If it’s not moving, he’ll suck the charge out of our ride—or hop in.”
“Eyes front, Nate!” Jocelyn slammed her foot to the floor. Her heart began to pound so hard it hurt.
He snapped his head around and stared at the street. “Get us the fuck out of here, Jocelyn. You stand still and he’ll have us.”
The reapers weren’t without weaknesses. They needed to be close to draw the energy, with the object sitting still. Their best chance for escape was to keep moving. The tires squealed and the aged transporter, an antique from 2015 and the best her mother could afford, shot forward.
“They can’t teleport inside a moving vehicle. Don’t stop.” Nate glanced in the rearview mirror to see the reaper standing in the street behind them. “Left. Go left.”
The tires screeched as they took a corner. Nate checked the mirror. The reaper teleported behind them and watched. She turned right, taking another side street. He teleported again, staying in the rearview mirror. He could follow them all night. Too bad they’d wasted most of the transporter’s charge circling the block.
“We have to get on the interstate. He can’t follow us that way,” Nate said.
“I don’t think that will stop him.” He’d never give up. Something about the reaper made the hair on her neck snap to attention. The Enforcer had come for her four hours early. He’d been anxious to get her soul and didn’t care if he broke the law to do it. Until midnight, she was still seventeen and untouchable, or she should have been. If he didn’t care about that, there was a good chance he wouldn’t care if she got hurt during the capture, or worse.
“We might be able to ditch him in traffic. Get to the interstate and we’ll take a side exit. There’s no way he can predict our next move. He can keep popping behind us on these side streets. The interstate won’t be as easy.”
“Fasten your safety harness and keep your eyes on the road.”
Nate complied and eyed the sign ahead. “Oh, shit. You can’t do that.”
“Just watch me.” Jocelyn shot down a one-way street the wrong way and onto an off-ramp.
Nate latched on to the arm rest, holding his breath as a transporter wailed at them and swerved. Only a crazy man would follow her wrong-way onto an interstate. Hell, she was crazy to do it. Bright lights beamed at them and another horn blasted. Jocelyn veered around the transporter and shifted into a higher gear. She moved to the shoulder and weaved around two more oncoming transporters.
“Hang on. I think I’ve lost him.”
Nate eyed the rearview mirror. Empty, except for taillights. Even though she couldn’t see him, it didn’t mean he wasn’t around. Jocelyn pushed the pedal to the floor and accelerated. There was nowhere to go but forward. With the concrete dividers between the two sections, she couldn’t get onto the correct side. They’d have to ride this out for a mile or two, until they hit the open road and she could get across the median.
“Eyes front.”
Nate pulled his attention from the mirror. She had seconds to register the reaper standing in front of them, backlit by the lights of a freighter truck.
“Jocelyn! Look out!”
“Oh, shit!” She downshifted and swerved, missing the reaper and truck. Instead, Jocelyn hit the divider doing at least eighty miles per hour according to the ancient gauge embedded in the dash. That was how fast, exactly? Her head smashed into the steering wheel before her restraints locked down and yanked her back.
Everything began to reel along in slow motion. Their transporter spun and flipped, spiraling through the air for several seconds before a hard impact and crunch. Metal screeched as the vehicle slid across the pavement on the driver’s side.
The smells of blood and smoke filled the wreck. “Nate?” She reached over and felt for him. Finding his shoulder, she gave it a gentle squeeze. He didn’t move. “Nate.” She had the vision of his final impact with the dash before things had gone dark. Was he dead?
Nate moaned. “Jocelyn?”
“Yeah.” Pain wrapped around her ribs where the harness had caught. She took a deep breath and coughed. They were both alive, but how badly hurt? Where was the reaper?
“Sis?” He opened his eyes, giving her a good look at the twisted metal surrounding them. They were lucky to be alive and as his gaze swept around the compartment, she had no doubt he was coming to the same conclusion.
“Thinking.”
“No time for that. We need to get out of here.” He reached for her restraint with an odd bend to his wrist. Most likely broken. “Come on.” He’d do whatever he had to, no matter how broken his body. She should have never involved him in her escape.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’ll live.” He looked away from his injury so she couldn’t examine it further.
Boots crunched on glass. Jocelyn’s stomach lurched. She twisted around and patted for anything she could use as a weapon. Pebble-sized pieces of shattered safety glass, an empty paper cup, and an old shirt that needed to be laundered. Not a weapon, unless body odor could be considered dangerous. Everywhere she searched there was nothing solid enough to put a dent in the head of the Enforcer. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“What have I here? A gift. You’ve gone and wrapped yourselves up so nice for me.”
“Stay the hell away from her,” Nate snapped back. “She’s got three more hours.” The Enforcer knew the law. They couldn’t touch her until she was eighteen, but this reaper wasn’t playing by the rules and Nate didn’t need to get between them.
“I have three hours left. You need a warrant,” she said.
The reaper laughed. “Nice. But it’s not you I’m interested in. Not right now.” The metal door screeched as he pried it off its hinges. “And you’re wrong. I don’t need a warrant if I catch you breaking the law, doll.”
“No,” Jocelyn groaned. “He’s done nothing.”
“Sorry, love. I can take one soul at a time. Yours can wait.” She watched from her brother’s wobbly vision as the reaper reached inside and grabbed Nate’s arm. “His, I’m afraid I can’t pass. It’s personal. Isn’t it, Nathanial Miller?”
Nate screamed the second he yanked. Bone crunched and Jocelyn cringed. Broken, and the bastard didn’t seem to care if he ripped it off when he pulled him from the wreck. “Stop. Stop. I’ll get out,” Nate begged.
“Stop hurting him, you bastard!”
“I like it better this way. Does it hurt?” The reaper pulled again, clearly enjoying the torture. “Much?”
“Fuck you,” Nate spat, antagonizing him further. “Don’t feel a thing now that my arm’s gone numb.”
“I’ll have to rectify that.” He twisted Nate’s arm and his bone cracked again. Screams echoed in the destroyed cabin.
“That’s right, take me, you sonofabitch.”
“Nate, don’t. He has no grounds.”
“Whatever I tell them will be grounds enough.”
The reaper released his arm and pressed his palm against Nate’s chest. “You have the right to remain silent.” Bright lights, a blaring horn, and the reaper’s head snapped up. “Fuck.” His eyes widened a second before the freighter clipped his shoulder and ripped him away. Jocelyn followed the taillights through her brother’s eyes. The truck dragged him over five hundred yards before he came fre
e and rolled across the interstate into the concrete median. He didn’t move.
“Come on.” Jocelyn released her safety harness and wiggled through the smashed glass, to climb to her feet.
Nate worked at the buckle with his one good hand. It popped free and he dropped, hitting the glass and concrete on the driver’s side door. He crawled through the opening and staggered to stand.
“We need to get out of here,” Jocelyn said.
“Yes. Can you walk?”
“Can you?”
“I’ll manage.”
Her ribs throbbed and her back hurt. No telling the damage done. “Why do I hear hesitation in your voice?” She reached up and found his forehead. Her fingers came away sticky. “You’re bleeding.” There wasn’t much they could do about it now. They had to run. In the distance, sirens wailed. “You okay?”
“I told you, I’m fine.” Nate glanced down the road where the truck’s driver had climbed out and stood over the Enforcer.
“He’s crazy,” Jocelyn whispered and hugged her body. “Do you think he’s dead?”
“I hope so.” Nate snagged Jocelyn’s arm and pulled her down the embankment and toward freedom as emergency vehicles approached.
“Run.”
***
That high-speed chase was the reason he carried that scar, and obviously he’d not forgotten.
Jocelyn backed up, using the eyes of an elderly man in a wheelchair behind her. She had to keep bringing his eyes up to the reaper and off her naked ass. The old man clearly enjoyed the view. “Stop that.”
The reaper raised a brow and the corner of his mouth curled.
“Not you,” Jocelyn growled. “The old geezer.”
Ian tipped his head back and laughed. “It’s almost a shame to contain you. I can’t say that I blame him. You have a fine ass. I was looking, too. You know, lust is another energy I have a taste for. Care to go a round? There’s a bed in every room. I can send you off with a bang.”
“Glad someone finds this funny. Think I’ll take my chances with the pain.” Anyone else and she'd be tempted. If the Enforcers were one thing, they were hot. The fact that he also scared the shit out of her took away some of the effect, but not all. He could be charming, but it was deceptive. Playing with Ian was like engaging in a game of Twister with a cobra.
Slipping the Past Page 6
