Dire (Reaper's Redemption Book 2)

by Thea Atkinson

  I grabbed the feather from Sarah's hand and eyed her.

  "I need you to raise the Angel of Death."

  CHAPTER 15:

  They all looked at me strangely. I started to pace, more sure with each passing moment that I had managed to grab hold of some critical piece of data. I'd seen a raven feather before as part of a spell. I'd seen oil. It had been in the cathedral the night of the fire. When the maniac was chasing me, intent on making me his last fare that could earn him his wings after who knew how many eons of penance. He had thrown oil at me. I slipped and slid in oil as I'd tried to escape. Holy oil, he'd called it. Even as he chanted a strange language, he'd twirled a feather tip across my forehead as though tracing symbols there. A sacred raven's feather, he'd said. All parts of the spell to collect up the energy of a fallen angel, his last and most difficult reap in order to reclaim his place in paradise.

  "It was to bind me," I said, not realizing that I hadn't said any of those things out loud. When I got back confused expressions, I had to fill in the gaps. It seemed I would always be filling in the gaps of that night.

  "I couldn't move," I said, with my arms hugging my chest. It was difficult to remember, to let myself return to those moments when I had been terrified each moment would be my last. "He threw bits of the oil at me and he chanted some strange language, and he drew across my forehead with a raven feather."

  "The spell specifics," Sarah said. "Oil, feather, phrasing." She ticked them off one by one in her hand. "See what I mean? Each spell has its own unique markers and needs."

  I nodded. "But there was one more ingredient. Fire."

  As I said it, I looked down at my feet because I knew Callum would be staring and I couldn't meet that gaze. It was too penetrating. I knew I would immediately slip back into time to the moment when he had found me lying in the aisle of the burning cathedral where Azrael had left me.

  "Azrael," I said finally, remembering his eyebrows and how they reminded me of raven wings, of the maniac in the church who had used a feather to bind me.

  "That's where all this takes us. That maniac in the church did all of that to me in order to reap me so he could earn his wings back from the Angel of Death."

  I was strangely excited for some reason. I wasn't sure I dared to hope that this could be an answer, but there was only one way to find out.

  "You have to raise him, Sarah. He knows the answer."

  I knew it even as I said so. Azrael had tried to get me to listen when I killed the incubus. I was stubborn, he'd been right. Too stubborn. If I'd been more open minded, I might have solved this already.

  "But I can't do that," she said. "I'm a necromancer. I raise the dead. I use the dead as weapons, as protections, as wardings. I don't summon angels."

  "But you aren't just summoning angels," I argued. "You're summoning one very specific angel. Azrael. The Angel of Death. "

  I gave her a pointed look.

  She nodded with a slow smile. "Challenge accepted."

  Gramp crossed the room and took her hands in his. The first since he'd come home, he looked hopeful.

  "I'll help you," he said. "Whatever you need."

  She smiled at him shyly. "You won't like it."

  "I don't like any of this," he said. "So I imagine I'll have got used to it by the time you're ready."

  She spun around as though she were taking in the room and looking for things she could use, as though with a renewed sense of purpose, she was seeing things differently. I felt the energy in the room shift. Everything was possible in that moment.

  I felt Callum's hand slip into mine. He pulled me next to his side almost possessively. I stole a look at him out of the corner of my eye. On the surface, he looked fine. Only someone who looked him square in the face and studied his skin would see how sallow it was. I was worried about him, but I was even more worried about what might happen if we went another night without nailing that thing we had loosed in the crypt.

  Gramp wanted to perform the ritual in the great outdoors beneath the moon with all of the protective natural things around, but Sarah made a good point. While she summoned Azrael, the rest of us could stand within the protective circles they had already made in the basement. So that's where we went. In the corner where Gramp's circle was, over the edge of the running river, we waited and watched as she brought her magic.

  Azrael was there before she even realized it. She was still chanting and swaying back and forth when I caught sight of him. Rather than take on the look of the wizened old man, he came as his most gorgeous self. His black hair had been tied up in a man-bun and his silver –tipped cane lay across his shoulder as though he were getting ready for a leisurely stroll.

  His pin-striped suit was gone and instead he wore a long black leather duster with a black T-shirt that sent a shiver down my spine. He was both fearsome and magnificent. I didn't think Sarah expected him to be so compelling and she gasped when she noticed him standing there watching her.

  "I did it," she said, breathless. I could hear the excitement in her voice, the feeling of triumph. "I summoned the Angel of Death."

  Under different circumstances, I might have felt proud of her.

  Azrael cocked his head at her. Whatever look of victory might have crossed her face disappeared under his steely gaze.

  "You didn't summon me," he said to her with a note of disdain in his voice. "I was coming anyway." He flicked a look of contempt over her and then his eyes trailed to me. It almost looked as though whatever else was around, no matter who stood in his presence, it was me he had come for. There was both validation and revulsion in that thought.

  "I see you've gathered all of your peeps, Ayla." There was a look of distaste on his face as he took in Callum and my grandfather.

  Callum nudged me with his elbow. "That's him?" he said.

  I nodded. One second later, I regretted it. Callum lunged out of the protective circle before either Gramp or I could grab for him and he dashed across the basement, roaring as though one sound could contain all of his fury. He was still at least three feet away when he leapt for Azrael. I knew what would happen before it did, but it didn't make the next moments any less horrible.

  Before I could get a chance to run for him, Gramp grabbed my elbow to hold me back. Azrael held out his hand as though he was going to greet Callum with a handshake. Then he waved it sideways with a leisurely movement. The effect was as powerful as a hurricane blast.

  Callum sailed across the basement and struck the wall. He crumpled into a heap on the floor. At first, I thought he might be dead, because he didn't move for several seconds. Then he groaned and rolled over onto his side. Had the wind knocked out of him, no doubt. But not dead. I let go a sigh of relief that I felt all the way down to my toes. It lasted for all of three seconds because a dark look came across Callum's face. His glare at the Angel of Death had ice in it.

  Stay down, I said under my breath. Just stay down.

  Callum pushed himself to a staggering stand and rushed the angel again.

  This time Azrael let him get close enough to backhand him. Callum staggered beneath the blow and I yelled at both of them to stop.

  "What you've done to Ayla," Callum said from the floor, chest heaving. "It's inhumane."

  Azrael lifted a well arched black brow. "Probably because I'm not human," he said. "But I'll play. What is it that I've done to Ayla?"

  Callum pointed to me with a shaking finger. "Those marks." His face screwed up into a mask of anguish. "Those brands of hers. The pain you're inflicting on her each time you mark her. It's cruel." He swallowed, visibly upset and I imagined his throat was tight with emotion. I felt so sorry for him in that moment.

  "Callum," I said, thinking I'd tell him to never mind all of that, that it didn't matter.

  Azrael held up his hand to stop me. He knelt down in front of Callum with the cane playing across his lap. "Who told you that I would cause her pain?"

  "I saw it. I saw what you do."

  Azrael lifted his gaz
e to mine. "I thought you understood," he said to me and then he looked back down at Callum with pity riding his black brow.

  "I don't cause those marks. I would never hurt her." This last he said looking at me. Then he stood up, obviously finished with the discussion.

  He looked across the basement directly at me, seeming to grow at least three feet taller and two feet broader as he stood there. I heard Gramp swear beneath his breath. Azrael was magnificent, I knew. But I wasn't afraid.

  "I don't have to explain myself to you, Nephilim," he said to Callum without so much as looking at him.

  "Then explain this," I said, brandishing the raven feather.

  He walked past Sarah, giving her a wide berth as though the very air she occupied was tainted, and he stood in front of me with his gaze pinned to mine. He didn't so much as look at the feather, but maintained an intense eye contact that made me squirm.

  "Don't you know what it is?" he said.

  "It's a sacred feather, isn't it?" I said.

  He nodded slowly. "Your human brain hasn't atrophied your senses, I see." He winked at me and my fingers tightened around the feather, crumpling the bottom of it into my fist.

  "You're here to collect that little bundle," I said and then I knew I heard Gramp swear. I looked at him sideways. "It makes sense, doesn't it?" I said to him. "He's the Angel of Death. Someone was trying to protect that baby from him."

  I swivelled my gaze back to Azrael.

  "I didn't put it altogether until I saw that feather," I said. I waited for him to deny it, but he merely crossed his arms over his chest with the tip of his cane pointing to the ceiling.

  "Ozriel used the feather to bind me in the cathedral. Whoever buried those vessels put that feather in it with the protective amulet, and that protection spell, Egyptian or not, was to keep you from collecting him."

  "You're sure it's a him?" Azrael said with a quirked brow.

  "Don't change the subject?" I said. "Answer the question."

  "But you haven't asked one."

  I thought Gramp could feel me tense up because he gripped me by the shoulder.

  "Careful, Ayla," he said.

  I shook him off.

  "I'm not afraid of him," I said. In truth, I was afraid, but I wasn't about to let him know that.

  Azrael placed the tip of his cane on the floor and leaned on it.

  "I am here to collect that little soul, yes," he said.

  "And how long has that little soul been avoiding the top of your cane?" I said.

  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Good question. If you had chosen to come back with your memory, you would know all of that."

  "Well before you try to collect him up," I said. "I need to know something."

  "The mighty Ayla needs my help," he said. "How refreshing."

  "The incubus kept calling me Rowan," I said and I felt Gramp spasm as he stood next to me. I swung my gaze to his. "Mom," I said. "He kept calling me by my mom's name."

  Azrael inclined his head almost majestically. "An incubus has an exquisite sense of time. They understand that it's not linear but fluid. And you do look an awful lot like your mother."

  "It thought I was my mother. It was in love with my mother."

  "Yes." He looked pleased for some reason.

  "You've been waiting for me to figure that out," I said. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

  "I'm tired of this conversation," he said. He waved his hand to encompass the entire basement. "And I'm tired of the energy in here from all of these abominations. I've come to do my duty. Where is it?"

  I pointed to where Sarah stood in her ring, feeling victorious and just a little sorry for the Angel of Death.

  "He's over there in the middle of that well protected circle, empowered by the blood of a necromancer, tucked up in terrycloth, Jasper and an Egyptian protective spell that obviously had some use since you haven't come to claim the babe until now."

  I tried not to let triumph show in my expression, but had the feeling I had failed by the way he glowered at me.

  "You're not getting him." I crossed my arms and lifted my chin defiantly.

  "You don't know what you're doing," he said.

  "I know someone didn't want you to have him, and that's enough for me," I said.

  He snorted. "Just like you didn't when you chose to save that necromancer and bring that awful abomination into the world. How are you doing with that by the way?" he said. "Have you figured it out yet? Do you know how to get rid of it?"

  I squirmed. The sense of victory was trickling out of my fingers like so much water and so was my pity for him.

  "You really are nasty and spiteful for an angel," I said.

  I had hoped for something more from him in light of how he'd acted in my bedroom. I had expected compassion at the least. Not this arrogant, uncaring supernatural being in front of me now. I didn't know why I was surprised or why it hurt, but it did and I wanted to hurt him back.

  "So you haven't." If he was affected by my comments, he didn't show it.

  "We'll let me answer the questions for you," he said. "What you've raised is a god. A goddess, to be exact. You can't kill her. You can't reap her. All you can do is contain her. If you don't, she will only grow stronger as she feeds off your boyfriend there." He jerked his chin at Callum who was still struggling to get up.

  He was so good at keeping his thoughts and crossing his face, that I wished I could be just as stoic, but had a feeling that the shock was written across my face as plainly as the text of a book.

  "Eventually, she'll move on to the necromancer, and then drain the druid. Then maybe she will come for you." He levelled his bright blue gaze to mine. "You're wasting your time summoning me when you should be searching for ways to stop the real danger."

  It just kept getting worse. "Who is she?" I said. "At least tell me that."

  He pointed at the vessel with the tip of his cane. "You seem to have all the information you need. Why don't you Google it?"

  I gasped at his derisive tone and felt as though he'd slapped me. He gave one glowering look at Callum and then met my gaze with a hard, icy look before he walked three steps toward the basement wall and simply evaporated several feet from the cement.

  I was left staring at the space he disappeared into. Google it. I knew he was making a flippant comment, but it was a good idea. Knowing we were dealing with a goddess in the form of a gargantuan bird, it took the three of us no more than five minutes to discover the goddess in question. Nehkbet: Egyptian vulture goddess that showed up on every crown of every Pharaoh in every bad historical depiction I'd seen. Mother of mothers, she was called. Patron goddess of childbirth and protector of the deceased, and featuring heavily in the book of the dead.

  Both Sarah and I exchanged looks and she smiled slyly.

  "I need you to go back to the butcher," she said. "I know exactly how we can stop her."

  CHAPTER 16:

  "If we can't kill her," Sarah said. "We'll have to use her."

  "How so?" I said.

  We had left the containers in the protective circles and were sitting in the basement on various bits of old furniture and camping chairs. Sarah kept biting her nails and I wished someone had gone to get her a bag of chips or something. She was making me nervous.

  "I don't want Azrael to have that baby anymore than you do," she said. "Maybe even less since he seemed so repulsed by me."

  I knew she'd been hurt by his reaction to her. I wanted to tell her that it didn't matter. He was nothing.

  "We don't have much time," she said. "Midnight isn't far away, and that would be about the best time for me. I'll need all the power I can gather if I'm going to stand against a goddess."

  "A weakened goddess," I said, correcting her.

  She gave me a timid smile. "A weakened goddess."

  "I know why I don't want Azrael to have the baby," she said. "But why don't you?"

  "I just don't," I said, avoiding her gaze. "Where do you want to do this thing?"
<
br />   "Out in the garden," Gramp said, interrupting. He'd been silent all of this time, but I sensed that whatever had been keeping him quiet, he had processed it and was ready to fight.

  "We'll need all the energy we can gather," he said, nodding at Sarah. "She's right. Trying to do this thing over the corner of an underground river through cement and power isn't enough. We need the full strength of the Ley lines and the earth and all of the sacred trees and herbs out there."

  "Normally, I would agree with you," Sarah said. "But I think we need the added magic of something incredibly powerful. As powerful as a sacred space." She studied her nails as she paused and then she looked up at me. When I caught her eye, I thought I saw panic in its depths.

  It could only be one place.

  "The crypt," I guessed and my stomach quivered. The last place I've ever want to go again was the Gothic crypt in the middle of town.

  She nodded but she didn't look pleased at the prospect either. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it was necessary."

  "I don't exactly want to leave the property, and certainly not to go there," she said. "But it's perfect. It brings everything around full circle. The universe, especially the Egyptian belief system, loves the idea of completion. We bring her back to the place where we unleashed her, use her own amulet as a beacon. We use the power of the catacomb to add to her own energies, bind her there, and so keep Azrael from collecting the babe. We leave. We never go back."

  "With less chance of it being accidentally disturbed," Callum said, pacing in front of me. "Most people won't go into that abandoned crypt if they know it exists, and the others have no clue it's there."

  "So what will the specifics be, exactly?" Gramp asked. "If we aren't doing it outdoors, then should we carry in some earth or some sacred herbs?"

  She ran upstairs and came back hearing a pen and paper. She used the cooler to scratch down a few notes and then she past the list to Callum.

  "I need a little time to get things together to process a spell that might hold her, but there are a few ingredients I'm going to need regardless."

  He glanced down at the piece of paper.