She’d been in love with Zeke once. Was she still?
Slumping over the sink, Vivian blinked back tears and resisted the urge to run away. That would be the coward’s way out. Strange. Facing the reaper, his dark realm, corrupt Archangels and rogue guardians hadn’t scared her as much as facing the men in her life.
“I crossed a line with Jen, another line, and I can’t even apologize. I can’t talk to her, can’t let her know that I’m still around and doing what I didn’t do in life, and it isn’t fair that I want to. But I do. What I don’t want to do is hurt her or the kids anymore, so Jeanne has taken over as their guardian.”
Vivian spun around and stared at him in wide-eyed shock. Jeanne? Not that Jeanne wasn’t capable, but if anything, the assignment seemed…beneath her wasn’t the right word, but in the eyes of the guardian hierarchy, and in the eyes of Marguerite, guarding a single family might be considered too little.
As if guessing her thoughts, Zeke grinned. “You and your band of rebels aren’t the only ones looking to buck the system. Marguerite’s on board. She’ll travel the globe and mediate crossings while Jeanne minds my family.”
“That’s…good. Jeanne will take good care of them.” Treading lightly, she asked, “Will you see them again?”
“No. They’re better off if I’m not around. I’ll—” He had to pause and clear his throat. “I need to let go, too. It’s for the best.”
He was right, though her heart ached for him, for his family, and for the whole situation. God, things were just as complicated in the afterlife as they were on this side of the grave. She wasn’t sure how else to feel, though she couldn’t help feeling for Zeke.
“Why are you telling me this?” She sat back down across from him, her hands moving of their own volition toward his on the other side of the table.
He took her hands into his larger, warmer hands. Guardians could do that, offer warmth and comfort, and comfort rolled off of him in waves. He could probably read her, too. Unlike Darkmore, his powers weren’t diminished. And she read him and the truth of his words—the pain of loss and separation from his family, the fervent hope that his sacrifice would make their lives better and end Jen’s mourning, lingering regret, longing, and love.
She gasped, tempted to pull her hands away. He still loved her and had never stopped. He’d forgiven her for casting him aside, understanding that she’d been trying to save him.
He held her gaze, his heart in his. “Didn’t you know?”
She owed him honest. “No, I wasn’t sure. I knew you cared for me, but I thought too much had happened between us.”
“Not for me,” he said, gently releasing her hands. “The question is, has too much happened between us for you.”
God, this was the worst timing. Not that any time would be good for this conversation, but so much remained uncertain—the fate of the rebellion, the guardian and reaper establishment, how living soul brokers would fit in to whatever new order emerged from the ashes.
“I don’t even know what’s going to happen in the next few hours, days, let alone what’s going to happen with us long-term. There may not even be a long-term.”
Zeke nodded. “But if there is, I want you. I love you.”
She didn’t bother blinking back tears. Confusion, fear, anger, and so many other emotions filled her fuller than any burden she’d ever accepted from any soul, living or dead. “I can’t make that decision now.”
Sadness crept into his green-eyed gaze, but he nodded again. “I know. I’ll wait. I’d wait forever for you, Vivian Bedford.”
Something tickled the back of her mind, something Mae had said when she’d spoken to Vivian through Mrs. Briggs. “He is with me. Our guardian.”
Oh, Zeke.
“You’ve been with Mae. Looking out for her.” It wasn’t quite a question, but he smiled at the uncertainty in her voice.
“Well, we’ve been looking out for each other, really. She’s something else, your sister. Something special.”
And so are you, guardian.
After all this time, he was still protecting Mae, and protecting her. He’d never stopped. No matter what he’d been or done in life, he was a protector and guardian in the afterlife. He’d become the “man” he’d always wanted to be as a spirit.
“What happened to the rest of the team?” she asked, grateful to change the subject.
Zeke stood and started pacing, a habit he’d carried with him into the afterlife. “The soul brokers made it out. We neutralized or destroyed the sentinels and you took out the last one. Put on quite a light show, too. The souls who stayed behind are safe with the rest of your team. I believe your friends Gutierrez and B are guarding them. Won’t even let Chet go near them.”
That made sense. They still didn’t know who they could trust and wouldn’t until they identified their traitor. “What about Briggs?”
He stopped and leveled her with his gaze.
“Briggs is gone. No one has seen him since the battle. Your reaper is looking for him.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zeke was kind enough to transport her back to base, if travel through the spinning vortex of guardian spirit teleportation could be considered a kindness. Convenient? Yes. Comfortable? Not so much.
Except for being wrapped in Zeke’s arms. It wasn’t right, enjoying the warmth of his corporeal body and the warmer presence of his guardian powers, but she needed it. With a whispered promise to contact him as soon as she received word about Briggs, she let him go and walked reluctantly to her apartment.
The one she shared with the reaper.
She was glad Zeke sensed and understood. She couldn’t deal with both Zeke and the reaper at the same time, not while dealing with the FUBARed mission now missing its leader, possibly at the hands of an unknown traitor who appeared to be operating outside of the rebel teams.
She turned the knob, unsurprised to find it open. The reaper wasn’t much for locked doors.
“Lazarus?”
She received no answer, but the gooseflesh on her skin from the chill in the space let her know he was there. Moving from the small living area to the kitchen and then to the bedroom, she found the reaper sitting on their bed, staring at the ceiling. He seemed so human, vulnerable, and beautiful, and she wanted to fall into his arms and let his coolness envelop her.
“Back from your latest rescue?”
His voice was a low, silken purr, and it raised the hairs on the back of neck. He sounded more like the reaper she’d first met, the stuff of nightmares and darkness that you wanted to run from and run toward all at once. He sounded dangerous.
It pissed her off.
“Here’s what I need from you, reaper. I need you to focus on this mission. I need you to put aside whatever jealousy your human side is conjuring so we can find Briggs, give the big, bad loa what he wants, and restore you to your former state. You with me?”
He pushed his body up from the bed slowly, gracefully, with the controlled movements of a stalking predator. Blue-eyed gaze, icy and fathomless, locked on hers. Her hackles rose, but she held her fear and anger in check. If she was angry, he was, too, and rightly so, she supposed. Zeke had once rescued her from the reaper’s clutches, and she’d once loved her guardian. She might love him still, but her emotions were too tangled for her to be sure of anything.
The reaper had saved her more than once, including when he took a blast of spirit light that would have been lethal to her. He’d sacrificed his immortality, his ability to move between spirit realms as an incorporeal reaper and the material world—her world—as a corporeal spirit. He’d stayed with her, aided her, and even fought alongside Zeke for her.
Vivian wasn’t prepared to let him intimidate her, but she would allow him to speak his mind. She owed him that.
“Am I with you?” The question was rhetorical, so she didn’t bother answering. “I’ve been with you since the beginning, little soul broker, and you’ve challenged me every step of the way. You resisted, you
offered to save me from my realm, you asked me to be your insurance policy against the guardians you served, and you asked me to accompany you on this fool’s errand to join a rebellion so you could restore me.”
God, but he could make her squirm. Fighting the urge to drop her gaze, she said, “All of that is true. You saved me and lost your immortality. Whatever humanity you’ve found can’t be worth the price you’ll pay when you die!”
Tears flowed down her cheeks unchecked, and she let them. She was tired of crying, tired of grieving and mourning, tired of guilty, of being pulled between two worlds, two men, and a destiny she couldn’t understand and never wanted. But she would not allow the reaper to suffer an eternity of torment for her sake.
“Free will, Vivian. Would you deny me mine?”
“I already have!” she yelled, fists curled at her sides, holding the energy sparking from her fingertips. “I stole your free will when I healed you and made you mortal. You didn’t have a choice, and I have to make it right!”
The reaper smiled, his face transforming from menacing and otherworldly to something so very human. He took two steps to reach her, took her face in his palms, and wiped her tears away with his thumbs.
“I have a choice now, and so do you. You may take me as human or as reaper if you insist on letting the loa restore me to my previous state. I would take you in any form.”
Oh, God, how could she choose? Zeke was first, but Lazarus Darkmore meant as much to her as Zeke did. Zeke had spoken of love, but the reaper had never betrayed her. Zeke hadn’t exactly betrayed her, but his actions had crossed many lines and damaged their relationship. Could it heal? Could she live without the reaper? Could she live without Zeke?
With a heavy sigh, Darkmore let her go and put space between them. “You don’t have to decide right away, but soon. For now, I suggest you secure Briggs’ grandmother.”
“Is she in danger?”
“Your leader is missing, presumably taken by someone who wants what he has. What is his most valuable resource?”
God, she was stupid. The traitor would want what any soul broker, guardian, or reaper covets—energy. Briggs’ grandmother was his repository. Forget quashing the rebellion. If the guardians got their hands on the mambo, they could use the vast quantities of energy to defeat those who resisted the status quo and as the means to channel a host of dangerous and powerful spirits, demigods, demons, and God only knew what else to do their bidding.
“Who else knows about Bijoux Briggs?”
Darkmore said, “No one in the rebellion, and none of the other cells are missing members. Your friends checked.”
It was her turn to pace. “But that makes no sense. Maeve’s vision, the loa’s bargain, they all point to a traitor, someone who’d cross Briggs to stop the rebellion.”
“Assuming it’s about the rebellion.” Darkmore seemed lost in thought, which was still odd to her. She was used to the confident, almost omniscient reaper. He was the man who had all the answers, even if he didn’t share or gave her pieces of the puzzle wrapped up with bows of cryptic obfuscation.
Now he seemed as lost as she was. She could really use the other guy right now.
Think, think, think.
Okay, so if it wasn’t about the rebellion, what else could it be? Did Briggs have enemies this side of life? Probably, but would they know about his afterlife management business? Not likely. Closer to home?
She froze. “Lazarus, what kind of read did you get from Aunt Olive?”
The reaper cocked his head to the side and thought. “She’s a true believer in the Christian faith, uncomfortable with the traditions of her charge. Protective, loyal, zealous—she wants to save souls.”
“How badly does she want to save souls? Bad enough to pair up with the establishment?”
The reaper grinned. “Possibly. Probably. We should pay her a visit.”
“Not without backup,” Vivian said. “We’ll go alone, but I want the others to know what kind of hunch we’re playing. Tell Gutierrez, B, and Chet. I need to let Jeanne and Zeke know in case our firepower isn’t enough to stop her.”
To his credit, Darkmore didn’t balk at her mention of Zeke. He simply nodded and left to inform their allies on site while she summoned Zeke. Zeke didn’t like her going with just the reaper—not out of jealousy, thank God, but because the reaper couldn’t protect her in his current state. She countered that no one could protect her from the Archangels if they’d gotten to Bijoux Briggs.
No one except Mae.
And the only way to Mae was through the mambo.
What she had to do was get to the mambo, get her to safety, find Briggs, and fulfill her end of the bargain to the loa. The reaper could help, and he’d be on hand for the loa to restore.
“I don’t know how to do this?” she said.
Zeke grinned. “You’ve always been a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants gal. What’s different now?”
“The stakes.” If the Archangels got the upper hand, they would crush all of the living soul brokers, the guardians who aided them, and would continue to hold innocent souls for ransom to increase their power. “It’s not about Mae anymore, or me, or you, or even the reaper. It’s about everyone.”
Zeke took her hands and kissed her on the forehead. “I have faith in you, and I’ll be there, just outside with Jeanne and the souls you liberated. Your reaper will be with you. You won’t be alone.”
It was dusk when she arrived at the home Briggs’ grandmother shared with his aunt, her caregiver and protector. It was something Vivian had in common with the woman. Hopefully common ground would help her negotiate with someone who she suspected was doing the right thing for the wrong reason.
She and the reaper had left their reinforcements behind, approaching the house on foot from several blocks away. It probably wouldn’t matter if the Archangels had infiltrated Briggs’ inner circle, but if Olive was operating alone, as they suspected, she would be more likely to let Vivian and Darkmore in than a host of strangers. They hadn’t risked any of the incorporeal spirits by sending them on a recon mission. Too risky if other spirits were involved, or if the loa Mrs. Briggs channeled were disinclined to trust unfamiliar spirits.
Approaching the front steps, Vivian rang the doorbell, tense and wary as shadows moved inside, behind sheer curtains. A well-manicured hand pulled the curtains aside, revealing Olive Briggs in her matronly glory. Vivian was struck again by how well the woman was put together, albeit like a throwback from a bygone era. She smiled warmly at Vivian and unlocked the door. The smell of fresh coffee and some mouthwatering baked good wafted from the kitchen.
She’d been expecting company, then.
“I thought you and your friend might stop by,” she said, turning her megawatt smile to Darkmore. It was so strange, the attraction she had to the reaper. Most living souls who were on the right side of good and evil tread lightly around the reaper, leaving the bad souls to fall under his spell.
She didn’t want to think too hard about her own attraction to him. Whatever it meant, the rapport Olive had with Darkmore would get them in the door and maybe get them some much-needed information. Olive stepped aside and allowed them to enter. The den appeared much as it had on their first visit, only darker, seeming to close in with claustrophobia-inducing tightness.
And the air was thick with spirit energy and power.
Olive invited them to have a seat while she disappeared into the kitchen. She came back with a lovely serving tray filled with cookies and small cakes, a pot of coffee, and three mugs, helping herself to the treats when Vivian and Darkmore politely declined.
After a delicate bite of cake and a sip of coffee, she asked, “I assume you’re looking for my nephew?”
“Yes. Do you know where he is?” Vivian had a million questions for creepy aunt Olive, but she decided to keep it direct and simple, following creepy aunt’s lead.
“Of course I do. I know everything, including how he sold his soul to that desert demon when he was i
n service. He’s not been the same since, meddling in things better left to God. I mean to put a stop to it.”
She drew in another breath to speak, but Darkmore’s hand on her thigh stopped her. “Of course he hasn’t been the same, my dear. No mortal would remain unchanged by an encounter with Ereshkigal, let alone being claimed by her.”
Olive narrowed her gaze at the reaper, speaking after a second sip of coffee. “You speaking from personal experience.”
“I am. She claimed me when I was little more than a babe. It was a mercy, really. Nothing for me on this side of life.”
Vivian wanted to kick Darkmore. When a religious zealot complains to you about her nephew’s deal with the devil, you don’t go and tell her you get it because you made one, too. Then again, could he have actually made a deal with the reaper at such a young age? Free will in humans has a minimum age of consent, and if he couldn’t consent to turning his soul over to the reaper, who had?
Someone must have worked a bit of dark magic or traded the innocent child Darkmore had once been to get out of his or her own sentence. Darkmore’s mother sought healing for her child, something a wicked person wouldn’t necessarily do. She could have smothered him in his cradle. No one would have suspected murder in his condition. Or, if she didn’t have the stomach for murder or mercy killing, she might have abandoned him to the desert with a shaman’s blessing.
“Who traded your soul to the reaper?” Vivian asked.
Laughing too loud, eyes a little too bright, Olive leaned closer, gaze burning with interest. “I’d like to know that myself. I should have known about you. The devil was said to be the most beautiful angel in the heavens, at least before he fell. You fit the bill.”
Darkmore smiled that sensual, come-hither smile he used when trying to seduce a soul. Its charm almost masked the predator within him. “I’m not the devil, dear lady. Ask my companion. She thought I might be when I called on her, but she soon learned there were much darker entities lurking just beyond our perception.”
The Quick and the Dead Page 24