Rise (Reaper's Redemption Book 3)

by Thea Atkinson

  He kicked my bedroom door open. My head waggled up and down as he ran down the stairs. Thanks to that brutish training he seemed to have an incredible amount of cardio and I wondered how long he would be able to go before he decided he couldn't carry me anymore and would drop me to my feet.

  "I think you're lying," I said and then immediately bit my tongue as he jumped from the second to last step onto the floor in the hallway.

  "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

  He took the fastest route to the backyard out through the kitchen and onto the back porch. Sure enough it was freezing outside. Probably close to 11° and me in my flimsy and wet T-shirt sticking to me in places I dearly wished it wouldn't.

  As soon as he put me down onto my feet, he threw the sweatshirt at me. I pulled it over top of my head.

  I was struggling into it when I felt his fingers on the waistband, pulling it down over the stubborn places. I thought his hands lingered a little too long at the side of my breasts, but then he gave a gruff tug and my head popped through the top to fill out the hood.

  I caught his eye staring at my pulse and when I cleared my throat, his gaze jerked upward. It wasn't like him to look embarrassed.

  But it was a good advantage to show him just how serious I was, and exactly how ticked off I was to find myself wet and freezing without a single bit of caffeine to warm my insides. I took those few seconds when he was staring at my throat and threw a punch at him. Good and hard. As fast as Sarah had taught me back in the foster home.

  My fist connected with his empty palm. I should have known I couldn't catch him off guard. An instant later, he had my arm twisted up behind my back. I bent over painfully, yelling at him to let me go.

  "Nice try," he said. "But you aren't far enough along in your training yet Grasshopper to catch me on a bad day."

  That rankled because I had worked hard and it rankled because it was true. But that wasn't exactly my fault. We'd not had enough sessions for me to get good at all, and add in all the weird stuff going on, a gal didn't have much chance to improve.

  He needed to cut me some slack. What he did was give me a gentle shove, just enough to free me from his grip without leaving me fumbling to the ground. I spun around to face him. The sun was barely touching the tops of the trees for heaven's sake. It was cold out there.

  "I haven't even had a cup of cocoa yet," I complained. "What's got you all in a tizzy?"

  Instead of answering, his fist whipped out at my face and in the last second turned into a slight tap against my cheek.

  Annoyed, I swatted his arm away.

  "I'm hungry," I said. "And you're being really annoying."

  "You should have blocked that," he said. "I gave you plenty of time."

  "And how would I know how to do that," I said. "You still haven't had me doing much more than running around like an idiot and practising stupid and completely unhelpful katanas."

  "What do you think those moves are for if not to use them?"

  "Who the heck knows," I said. "Doesn't make any sense to me. Nor does running around outdoor without a belly full of breakfast."

  After the night I'd had I would've expected at least a cup of coffee before being thrown into the fire and he should've understood that. It wasn't fair.

  I spun on my heel and headed back to the porch. Before I got more than two steps, I felt his hand encircle my wrist and pull me toward him as though we were dancing some Fred and Ginger routine. Instead of coming up hard against his chest, however, I felt myself being lifted from the ground, and I had the horrible feeling I was going to be slammed down against his knee like some cheesy wrestling move.

  I let out a bloodcurdling scream in protest, but strangely enough it came out as nothing more than a squeak. Instead of being pile driven into the ground, I was hanging from his hip like a sack of flour. He carried me straight back toward the middle of the yard.

  Seriously, I had no idea where he got all of his adrenaline or strength from.

  "Want to tell me what's going on with you?" I demanded as I watched the grass blur past my vision. Herbs with purple flowers turned the sights into a kaleidoscope.

  By the time we made it to the step, I was already struggling and he was already pulling me harder against him, wrapping both of his arms around my legs and waist. I let go an ineffectual shout, half expecting Sarah to come to her bedroom window to see what all the ruckus was about. Not that I could see her window. No sooner had I begun my protest when he plopped me down onto my feet.

  He yanked me against his chest, spinning me so, I faced outward as his arm snaked around me. I would have gasped except he spread his palm over my mouth.

  That sent me into a panic. I squirmed and twisted and ended up doing nothing more make his grip tighten on me. I decided to stomp down hard on his instep with my bare foot. The jolt of it slammed up my shin, but it also made him let go of me pretty quickly.

  Victorious, I spun around with my fist in the air, jabbing out at him like Sarah had taught me: one hand up in front of my face, the other one, my right because it was the strongest, snapping out level to my nose. When my right struck nothing but air, I yanked it back in close and then swung round house with my left. That one connected. I couldn't help smiling as I heard his surprised grunt.

  "About time," he said. Then he danced away out of reach.

  The way he was looking at me, I realized he had let me hit him.

  "Not fair," I said. "You let me punch you."

  "I certainly didn't let you stomp on my foot," he said but he was grinning. "But that was smart. Nice one, Ayla. Although it took you long enough."

  He jammed his hand into his jeans pocket and came out with an elastic band. He pulled that up into his hair and wrapped it into a man bun.

  "Now it's on," he said.

  I realized he'd been testing me. Edging me on.

  "You could've warned me," I said.

  "I just wanted to see what it would take for you to get serious about the training."

  "I am serious."

  "So serious you only give it your best when you're angry?"

  He slapped his hands on his jeans. "That's not serious. You're the one that wanted this. You better give it your best." He loped toward the herb garden, taunting me closer.

  It annoyed me the way he cantered about without getting winded, the way he acted as though he was the only one who thought this training was necessary when it had been my idea in the first place. As if he was the one who had to do all the reaping and deal with Azrael and put himself in harm's way. As if he got visits from the tooth fairy and incubi and demigods.

  I looked back over my shoulder to see if Sarah had come to the window yet. She had. She and Nicki were waving between the curtains as though they were looking down at a passing parade of clowns. But this wasn't funny, just a little infuriating.

  He licked his thumbs like a fighter would, then lifted them up, boxer style.

  "Come at me. You got yourself some mini mad skills, Ayla. Time to use them."

  I thought of Sarah up there watching me, no doubt measuring my moves. I hesitated.

  "Come on," he said. "What are you waiting for? The Apocalypse?"

  I charged then. Straight at him. I lunged for his torso, hoping to slam my full weight into him and knock him flat on his back. Instead, I miscalculated and slammed my own nose up against his collarbone. I yowled and clutched at my nose. Was that blood running down my nostrils?

  "You didn't duck enough," he said, struggling not to laugh.

  I rubbed at my nose, working the pain out. I spread my fingers in front of me to see if there was blood. None. Just a good deal of runny nostril tears.

  "I don't want to do this anymore," I said.

  "You mean you're not mad anymore," he said. "And that's the trouble."

  "If you don't think this is mad, then you have no idea what it looks like." I dropped onto the damp grass and crossed my legs one with the other. The dew soaked through my bottom as I plucked at the grass. I was don
e. Not one more tussle or punch. I'd just sit her till he left and then I'd go in for bacon.

  He strolled over and leaned over me. "You need to be cold and calculating."

  I had the urge to reach up and pull the elastic band from his man bun. I knew the hair would reach just to the bottom of his ears and that there would be one small curl that would poke into his ear. Once freed, I'd yank on that hair good and hard.

  "You mean like you?" I said, but I wasn't really thinking of Callum, just how he reminded me this morning of Azrael. Hot and cold all at once.

  He dropped his arms to his side and folded onto his bottom beside me. "I'm not cold, Ayla." He lay a hot hand on my knee. "Not when it comes to you."

  I peeked out of the side of my eye at him. He was staring at me, all right.

  The hand that was on my knee slid up to the middle of my thigh, that I was still working out whether or not it was a casual movement or an intentional one when it lifted from my leg altogether and his arm went around my back.

  He pulled me close to him in a one-sided embrace and I had the discomfiting thought that now I was being the one all hot and cold. All pique for him disappeared at the feel of his arm around me. Damn hormones.

  "You're beautiful, you know," he said. "I dream about that hair."

  My hair had made me a target in the foster homes, a great thing to tease me about because it made me stand out when most kids wanted to disappear under those circumstances. If he wanted me to forgive him, he certainly had my attention. Whether or not he meant it when he said I was beautiful, I warmed to his compliment even if I shivered beneath my hoodie. I wasn't totally convinced it was from the cold. I knew that if I lifted my face to his, I would see that smokey stubble on his chin and those intense green eyes staring down into mine. I wasn't sure I could withstand that without throwing my arms around him and making a fool of myself.

  His cheek nuzzled the top of my hair as though he were trying to make me look at him.

  "Is Sarah watching?" he said.

  I looked over my shoulder. Sarah still stood in the window with her palm on the glass and Nicki in her arms, trying to catch the juvenile owl flapping overhead.

  I wasn't sure what to do, whether I should change the subject, get up, or simply stay put. Knowing Sarah was watching actually made me feel a bit safe, like I didn't have to make any decision at all.

  "Yes," I said, almost embarrassed to hear the relief in my voice.

  "Good," he said.

  The hand that wasn't around my back moved to cup the side of my cheek and he tilted my face to his. His lips sealed over mine and in an instant, I was thrown back to those moments when Gramp was in the hospital and Callum had kissed me. I had recoiled out of fear. This kiss was very much the same, demanding and insistent. There was pressure to his lips I both enjoyed and was afraid of. It was only through sheer willpower that I didn't pull away like I had the first time.

  His tongue found mine. He tasted of orange juice and toothpaste, both of them so fresh and cool that the contrast of heat and the kiss had me responding even though I had no idea what I was doing. I could barely breathe beneath the pressure and the ache in my throat seemed to only get worse the longer it went on.

  He broke away as though someone had slapped the back of his head.

  "I'm sorry," he said, pulling away. The drugged look on his face was partnered by panic. "I don't know what came over me."

  Sorry. I wasn't sure why he was apologizing, maybe it was because he still thought of me as a kid and he felt as though he was doing something he shouldn't. Maybe he wanted my reassurance that it was okay. It was more than okay. Every part of my body was tingling.

  "It's alright," I murmured.

  I stole a look at him from beneath shuttered eyelids.

  "No," he said. "I don't think it is okay." He started to push himself away from me, struggling, it seemed, to find his feet.

  Back to training, then, I thought. Although it had no idea how I was going to do that now. Not after that. I was halfway onto my own feet when I realized he was walking across the yard toward his car, not heading for the herb garden.

  "Where are you going?" I said.

  "Home," he said over his shoulder.

  Confused, I rushed to catch up to him. "What do you mean you're going?" I said. "We have training to do."

  I grabbed him by the elbow and tried to pull him back.

  He looked down at me with a near look of panic. "I have to get to work," he said with a pained look on his face. "And you have enough to do today before your grandfather gets back."

  "Just the exterminator," I said. "Not much else. We're going to set up a tent in the backyard and have a camp out."

  I didn't understand what was happening.

  "You don't have to leave. Sarah will make us cocoa. Maybe some bacon and eggs." I gripped his arm. "Don't go."

  I wasn't sure why I felt so panicked, I just hated the thought of him taking off on me. I'd done something wrong, I was sure of it.

  He sighed and laid a warm hand on mine. "It's nothing, Ayla," he said. "I'm fine." He peeled my hand away from his arm and started walking backwards away from me. I followed him automatically.

  "You go get some breakfast," he said. "I'll be back later."

  We were all the way to the car before he spoke again. Casual and almost like it was an afterthought.

  "The Firefighters' Gala is this weekend," he said. "I need a date and you need a chance to show the rest of the team you're not an arsonist."

  Flustered, I looked up at him. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

  "Yes," he said. "A date. I want to see you in a little black dress and heels instead of a T-shirt and yoga pants." He eyed my legs with a sort of examining study. "Although I must admit, the yoga pants have their own sort of appeal."

  Then he spun around and pushed behind the steering wheel and drove off, leaving me blinking after him.

  A date. I had a date with Callum. I hugged myself. Finally. Something positive.

  CHAPTER 7

  It took me days to find the right dress. I couldn't just scooter to the store, dig through the racks, try it on and buy it. No. I had to do all those things, plus scooter it back home to try on for Sarah to approve. That meant a half a dozen dresses got returned to the store and the process started all over again. The retail clerks stopped being nice the second time. The sixth, they flat out refused to offer a refund or exchange ,and I ended up with an ugly thing with too many bows that I stuffed into my drawer.

  In the end, I came home from school on the day of the gala to Sarah standing at the pass-through counter, running her hands over a silky black swath of material. Nicki was crawling around on the floor at her feet. The owl stared at a few black buttons attached to the material with a hungry eye, no doubt imagining them as delicious beetle snacks.

  "What's that?" I said, dropping my book bag onto the hall table and plodding across the carpet in my shoes to see what she was fondling so dreamily.

  "Your dress," she said and lifted the thing from the counter to hang in front of her.

  It draped down against her front in a way that was gorgeous enough to make me gasp. Long and flowing and silky black like midnight, it swept along the floor, and when she flipped it over, I could see that the back was made of thin laces crisscrossing all the way from the shoulder to the skirt, which I presumed would begin at the small of my back. It was far too feminine for me.

  I wanted it immediately.

  "Gimme," I said, clutching for it and having it swept out of reach just before my fingers grasped the material. I eyed her warily. "Where'd you get it? How?"

  I'd never so much as seen her leave the grounds to get the mail, so visiting the store was out of the question and she had no cash to speak of to buy if she did.

  "Let's just say that your grandfather better not have to use his credit card before he gets home from his convention. I ordered it, silly. From an online store. Overnight delivery."

  I chuckled at mention of G
ramp's convention. It was a week long event in the city and he'd packed several dusty tomes and his best cassock as well as a mysterious looking pouch filled with what looked like hair. His suitcase had been stuffed with herbs he'd grown and dried and tied off with burlap string to pass out or sell as he saw fit. He'd been as excited as a round eyed nerd finding a new comic book. I thought he could use a break from Dyre and heartily approved his decision to attend his first meeting of the magical minds in over a decade.

  "He's been eerily silent on the convention front," I said. "You would have thought he'd have texted me or something by now."

  She gave me a narrowed eye.

  "You did tell him that Magic: the Gathering was a card game right? He did know that the convention was going to be filled with nerds and not sorcerers and Druids?"

  I shrugged. "Not my fault he thought a flyer tacked to the grocery store bulletin board smacked of underground meetings. If he wanted to believe it was his peeps getting together in the city, who was I to dissuade him? And you certainly didn't complain about having the house to yourself this last week."

  It was true. She hadn't questioned my indulgence of Gramp's journey and I hadn't dissuaded him. It was lovely to have the place to ourselves and although we'd equipped him with a burner cell phone, he'd only used it the twice: once to send a garbled text that I imagined was a pocket dial, and the other to tell me he was taking a long bath and getting ready for the first casting ceremony later the next evening. I'd expressed excitement for him but didn't dare let him in on the truth.

  I'd planned to deal with that guilt later but then Nicki had Phoenixed herself into a new body. The one moment where I had remembered I should text him, I didn't have my phone and then everything had gone back to normal. It didn't seem right to make him worry when things had been solved. I imagined by now his sulky silence on the other end was the result of his decision to make me think he knew full well what the convention was when he'd signed up. He was a proud one, my Gramp, but he couldn't fool me. I had the sense that he fully intended to show up without notice and catch me at something nefarious.

  I couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he saw just how surprised we were--much less so than he'd be when he saw Nicki. So the joke would be on him, and it would be much easier then to explain why I didn't warn him about the nerd fest. And it would be doubly nice to be able to explain that if I didn't count the visit by tooth fairy, or Nicki's sudden growth, or the sooty ceiling, that things were normal. No Azrael. No sorcery family pounding down my door to extricate Sarah for ritualistic sacrifice.