Rise (Reaper's Redemption Book 3)

by Thea Atkinson

  "Maybe you should stay over tonight," I said. Feeling brave. Must be the alcohol. Maybe I should drink more often.

  "You don't know what you're saying," he said. His face was so close to mine I could see the way one of his eyebrows had a small nick cut out of it.

  I thought of him lying next to me, his arm thrown over mine, the feeling of safety and comfort, enjoying that electric buzz that always ran over my skin when he was too close, a buzz that was happening now. Making me dizzy. Making me melt into to him.

  "Sure I do," he whispered. "I know exactly what I'm saying."

  I felt him clutch at my back almost in a spasm that he couldn't help. Then his mouth claimed mine and this time there was no gentleness anywhere within the kiss. It was demanding and possessive and somehow desperate. And although I wasn't expecting the suddenness of it, I tried to hold my own breath beneath the frenzy. It was making me even dizzier. I was having a hard time keeping my legs from buckling. Even my stomach was flip-flopping around like a landed fish.

  One second his hands were on my waist and the next they had climbed to the back of my neck, the heels of his hand gripping my chin and holding it still is he laid his assault on my mouth.

  Then as abruptly as that kiss began, he pulled away, the flat of his hand moved to my chest as though he was trying to hold me at arm's length.

  "Oh, God, Ayla," he rasped. "What are you doing to me?"

  I would have loved to answer that, but the swoon of sudden movement made my stomach lurch. In the next instant, I was doubled over splashing alcohol-infused liquid onto my high heels as he muttered something about thanking God for small miracles.

  I couldn't lift my head, just shudder as the sickness took me. Callum rubbed my back and held my hair up over my head. At one point, I realized his shoes were covered in sick and I gagged and fought another surge.

  When it was over, he shoved me almost unceremoniously into the passenger side of his car. The smell of vomit lingered and I leaned my head against the window enjoying the cool feel of glass against my cheek. I was mortified, truth be told. Now that I was sitting in the car and had lost most of my stomach to the pavement outside the convention Centre, everything seemed much more clear.

  He helped me out of the car when he pulled into my driveway and left me chastely at the front door.

  "It's best if I don't come in," he said and his voice still had that husky tone to it. I had the feeling he was struggling with something but my head was hurting too much already to try to work it out. All I could do was nod miserably.

  "Don't come over to train in the morning," I begged. "I don't think I'll manage it."

  He laughed beneath his breath and laid his palm against my cheek. It lingered there for a long moment as he looked down at me.

  "One of us should get a good night's sleep," he said and then shoved his hands into his trouser pockets with deliberation and spun on his heel. I watched him walk all the way to the car and drive away.

  Sleep. It would be the saviour of us all. Take the most horrible events of the day and throw a cover of black over them, disguising them until enough time can go by that the pain or shame isn't quite so bad. I couldn't wait to get up the stairs and into my bed.

  Upon opening the door, my stomach threatened to rebel again as the stink of burnt popcorn greeted me. Sarah had no doubt forgot about the popcorn in the microwave again. The shriek of the owl upstairs made my head hurt.

  I had the feeling I wouldn't make it up the steps before I succumbed, but I managed to stumble up each one of them by clinging to the banister and using it to propel me upward. I'd stop by Sarah's room, let her know how much of a hit the dress was. Two handsome men paying attention to me. Pretty good score, I thought. Made the ego feel all warm and fuzzy.

  But something was off. The light to her room was blazing and there was a shuddering mass of black all along the floor from the hallway into her bedroom.

  I was still reeling from the effects of alcohol and sickness added to a bit of ego burst, but I was pretty sure that shuddering mess was bugs.

  It was the way Sarah sat in the midst of it all, surrounded by what looked like an army of cockroaches and an angry looking owl screeching at the mess that clinched it for me.

  CHAPTER 9

  It was bad enough seeing my best friend bawling like a baby as she sat cross-legged in the middle of the hallway with old mascara running down her cheeks and her hair stuck up everywhere as though she had been running her hands through it. But seeing her there looking so bereft gave me images of nights in the foster home when she had comforted me in those first days after I lost my parents. I wanted to be there for her. She needed a hug, and if it wasn't for the writhing sea of black all around her, I'd have charged the bedroom door in my wobbling heels to give it to her.

  Instead, I minced my way forward in those heels right straight to the edge of a sea of black and clicking cockroaches standing at attention. They reminded me of a squadron of Roman soldiers. I shuddered involuntarily, fighting the urge to strip every fibre of clothing from my body in case one of those evil little buggers decided to use it to piggyback me to another part of the house.

  "I'm coming, Sarah," I managed to get out from a throat tight with revulsion. "I'm coming," I muttered to myself. So many of them. So damn many. I couldn't imagine kicking my way through that sea.

  Sarah nodded clumsily, but I didn't think it was because she could hear me. She was way past that. It was an automatic response. She was scared. Damn the little buggers. What the heck had brought them here, anyway. Why were they surrounding her and holding such a close, unmoving position all around her?

  "What's going on?" I said, loathe to push my feet through that muddle. "What happened?"

  She gagged and stuffed her hand in her mouth, her throat working to speak. Shock, I realized. If it weren't for the after glow of booze, I might be feeling just as wooden. A few roaches after dark? Par for the course. A horde of them, frozen like that with their little antennae waving? Enough to make you think you're nightmaring the heck out of the night. Thank God for the dull stupid high of alcohol.

  "Doesn't matter," I said, holding my hand out toward her. "I'm coming." I wavered on my feet and caught myself against the doorframe.

  Sarah needed me. I might be a bit drink addled still, but it was dissipating. I had to kick some butt for her. That was what good friends did. Except. Except I had to walk through that ocean of insects.

  "Sarah," I said, trying again because really it would be no mean feat to ignore my own blossoming panic.

  The owl hooted from its perch on Sarah's headboard as it stared down at the insects. It should be ecstatic at such a banquet laid out in front of it, and yet it seemed despondent and somehow angry as it peered balefully down. Just a touch disappointed.

  "I'm coming," I said. "Just hold on."

  When Sarah lifted her gaze to mine finally, the hairs on my neck prickled.

  "I tried," she said. "I tried to stop them, but they took her."

  "What do you mean they took her?" I managed to say through clenched lips. "Who are they?"

  I eyed the quivering sea of shining black backs.

  The dullness of the booze was already draining through my toes and when one of them spread its wings right by my foot I gasped. Yup. There went the last of the drunk.

  "Sarah," I said again. Firmer this time. "What's going on? Who took who away?"

  "Three of them," she said. "They took Nicki."

  I swallowed down hard as that sank in, and swayed on my feet was enough to make me reach out for the wall.

  "When?" I said. My voice shook. One small word and I could hear how scared I was.

  "Just a few minutes ago," she said. "Check your phone. I left a message."

  Her smartphone lay on the carpet next to her. I hadn't carried mine. It no doubt still sat on my bureau blinking into the darkness. Didn't matter. There was only one thing that did.

  Sarah held my gaze across the black tide and I can see how puf
fy her eyes were. She waved her hand over the air above the floor. The owl swooped over it, calling down at her until it was able to gain unsteady footing on her shoulder. She didn't seem to notice its claws digging into her collarbone.

  "I tried to raise what I could to protect her." She sniffled. "But all I had were these."

  She said the word these with disgust as the sweep of her arm encompassed the sea of bugs all around her. I realized she had used whatever magic she could to call out to whatever dead things were near and since we had so recently fumigated, the only thing available to her was a horde of cockroaches.

  My gaze flicked to her arms. Yes. Several scratches, red and wealing. She had indeed done what she could while I was out frolicking and throwing myself at Callum. I felt a wash of shame.

  "I'm coming," I said to her because I needed her in that moment as much as she needed me.

  I clutched my stomach as I tried to make myself as small as possible so I could get through the yard of bugs that surrounded her. I was still swallowing down the rise of bile when, within three steps of her, the roaches seemed to think I was a threat and launched themselves at me.

  That did it. I shrieked and started swatting, my arms flailing around ineffectively. A long, keening sound erupted my from throat and something brushed against my neck.

  There was no rational thought after that. Only blind panic. I twisted my ankle and fell with a sickening crunch into the black tide.

  "Do something," I screamed. "Sarah, you have to do something."

  As quickly as they'd struck, they scuttled away but it was long moments before I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, not trusting that my body would be strong enough to even roll over to face her.

  Sarah's face loomed over me from above. The black ends of her dyed hair hung over my vision like curtains. Those sky blue eyes of hers, red rimmed and puffy, landed on me with something akin to pity. I could hear the owl pecking at the carpet as it collected up the roaches.

  "Three Fae," she said, flicking as many fingers within my line of sight over my stomach. "That's what it took to get her out of here, and it's all my fault, Ayla," she said. "I wasn't paying good enough attention to her. I had put her to bed and was making popcorn."

  "It's not your fault," I murmured. "You can't be with her all the time."

  I scraped my foot along the floor, trying to rid my feet of the feeling that bug carcasses still clung to my toes. I kicked off my shoe as well, but I didn't feel any better.

  "You said three Fae," I said. "What did they look like?" I braced myself for the answer, feeling as though I knew exactly who was to blame.

  "Like regular fae," she said. "Ethereally beautiful. Shining. Very small at first but regular sized when they grabbed for her. One of them was actually quite fat."

  "Balding?" I said with my chest squeezing in on me as I braced myself for the worst answer she could give. "He didn't happen to have a Hello Kitty T-shirt?"

  She gave me a hard stare. "How do you know that?"

  "I know because the tooth fairy is fat and bald," I said and turned my head to see her reaction. It was exactly as I expected. Her face clouded over with indignation.

  She scooted along on her bottom to find the foot board of her bed. She used it to climb to her feet and I noticed for the first time that she was wearing socks. Red wool ones from Gramp's drawer.

  "He messed with the wrong necromancer if that's what he's after," she said. "He hates living so much? I'll bring him back a dozen times if I have to."

  The owl hopped along the floor next to me, scooping up another dozen paralyzed insects.

  "I should have killed him when I had the chance," I said.

  I crawled along the floor to scoop up her cell phone.

  "What are you doing?" she said.

  "Calling the police."

  "And tell them what?" she said. "That the tooth fairy broke in and kidnapped our infant demigod?" She ran the toe of a red wool sock across the floor to kick the cell phone away from me. "Don't be ridiculous. They don't even know we have her. She doesn't exist officially."

  Of course she was right. Phrased like that I realized how helpless we were. I sat back on my haunches and watched as Sarah pushed herself up onto her bed, an expression of worry and resignation on her features that I imagined was much like my own. We had no recourse. We had no plan. I opened my mouth to mention a dozen thoughts and possibilities but clamped it closed again as I knew we had no where to start.

  Sarah perched on the bed with her elbows on her knees as she eyed me. There was a hard look to her gaze that wasn't normal for her. There was something terribly cold in her eye that I wasn't used to seeing. But if I didn't recognize the hard look in her eye, I totally knew the stubborn way she clenched her jaw.

  "What we need is some bird seed and cold forged iron, preferably in the form of a very sharp blade," she said after a long time.

  "Assuming we ever find out where he took her, I get the blade," I said. "But I'm not quite so sure I understand about the birdseed."

  "Fairies are compelled to count tiny things," she said. "At least I think that's true. Maybe we can lay a trap for him with birdseed and you can stab him." She gave me a hopeful look.

  Someone cleared their throat from behind me just as my ears started to buzz and my calf branding started to ache. Sarah didn't have the courtesy of a warning and she startled and grabbed a sharp intake of air. I didn't need her reaction to know something stood behind me.

  I swung around with dreaded clogging up my throat.

  There stood Warren, looking pasty and somewhat disgruntled as though he'd been surprised to walk in on someone talking about him.

  I realized he was clutching a very large and very old looking blade.

  "I'm afraid it's too late to consider stabbing me," he said.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sarah leapt to her feet, ready, it seemed to charge him, and I took a reflexive step sideways, putting distance between him and me. Sarah's fists clenched into balls at her sides and the anger on her face was palpable. He waved at her with his free hand. In a heartbeat and no more, she froze with her fists cocked at chest height.

  That he would incapacitate her robbed me of the fear of the knife he held. I started to charge him, fully intending to slam the top of my head directly into that fat stomach. I found myself stuck like a bug to flypaper, unable to do more than wave my hands at him.

  "Do it," I shouted at him. "Just try to hurt us. You'll be sorry." I wasn't sure how or who would bring down the vengeance on him, but I was angry and scared and worried about Nicki.

  "Hurt you?" he said. "I'm not here to hurt you."

  I noticed a sad looking slump to his shoulders, as though he wanted us to believe he wasn't there at all to do us harm. Trickery, that was all. Manipulation for some warped purpose. This was the creature who had just abducted a member of my family as a means to get back at me. I wasn't quite as naïve anymore as I was when I started this life, not quite as ready to believe just one sense.

  He was wearing the same Hello Kitty T-shirt but his skin looked just about as bright as the grey creep that covered the material. Another ruse no doubt, carefully constructing his appearance to look pitiful.

  "You look worse, Warren," I drawled. "The baldness is a nice touch."

  "Nice touch?" he said, his voice getting shrill even if he sounded as though he had a rattle kicking about at the base of his throat. "You think I choose to look like this?"

  His indignation surprised me, and even though whatever hold he'd had on Sarah seemed to let go with a sag of her shoulders, I knew he'd lasso her again if we showed any sign of fight. Sarah didn't seem to care. She threw something at him and he ducked just in time to avoid the missile. My shoe, I realized when it collided into the wall and stuck heel first into the gyprock.

  "Where is she, you bastard?" she said. "What have you done with her?"

  Everything about her in that moment was electric. I had the feeling she was going to start chanting a spell t
o bring the roaches back. I held my hand up, pleading, just in case she did.

  Warren swung his gaze to hers. "My apologies, necromancer," he said. "Taking her wasn't my choice." He side-eyed me. "It's her fault. You should be blaming her."

  That was rich. I nearly choked on my own indignation. I tested my ability to move slowly, not wanting to fall if my feet were still stuck. I lifted one foot off the floor and then the other. I chose my words carefully.

  "You kidnapped a member of my family and you stand there telling me it's my fault?" I stormed him before he could think of gluing me to the floor again. Strangely enough, he did nothing to stop me. I was across the floor in seconds, my finger poking into the fat folds of his chest.

  With a strength I didn't realize he would have, his hand gripped my wrist and bent it backwards. I yelped in pain.

  He held my wrists still in a vise like grip as I cringed beneath the strength of it.

  "My master has a message for you," he said, holding my gaze with his own. "It's why I'm here."

  "I'm not interested," I ground out, confused by his use of the term master, but too proud to show it when I was busy trying not to look as though he was hurting me.

  "Not you," he said with a note of disgust, his bushy brows gathering together. "The necromancer."

  Sarah made a sudden movement as he mentioned her that that made me think she was going to leap on his back, but I should've known she wouldn't have stooped beneath her dignity to do such a thing. Instead, she headed for the door. I heard her trampling down the stairs. The distant rattling of the cupboards and drawers jangled its way up the stairs.

  "You made her mad, Warren," I said. "Best you tell us what you did with Nicki. I can't promise she won't take you out where you stand."

  She thudded back up the stairs in record time and stood filling the doorframe. She did indeed have a knife. Gramp's favorite butcher knife as well as a bag of rice. She looked manic as she stood there with it held out all the wrong way for stabbing. Even so, she took a mere two heartbeats before she charged the room. She didn't get within two feet of Warren before he made a circular motion with his free hand and caught her in a sort of yellowish webbing of light. She lifted straight off her feet and hung in the air, levitating almost obscenely. The knife thunked to the floor.