Rise (Reaper's Redemption Book 3)

by Thea Atkinson

  In that instant, the owl flapped into the room and flew over Rory, letting go a load of excrement just as it reached the middle of his head. He swatted at it, forcing the owl to swoop down past him and land on the floor in front of Sarah.

  A bright light blazed from across the crypt right about then. A sound like a rush of air blasted at me. A blast of heat followed it and I pulled my arm up to my face instinctively. Nicki. Transforming again. Like Phoenix fire, flames licked around her feet and then rose up around her, shielding her from view.

  "Now," I said to the fae and in an instant, he pulled the web from over my head. My heart was pounding so hard I had no idea how I managed to sprint across the room, grabbing for the blade.

  The Fae yelled at me. "You promised," he said.

  He sounded pitiful and pathetic. And I knew he was suffering. My heart ached for the sound of betrayal in his voice. I had one chance. Rory or the Fae.

  I hesitated.

  That one moment was enough for Rory to spin around and face me. He eyed me as I stood there, clenching the knife. With an almost leisurely movement, he held his hand up toward the Fae and with a pop, Warren's lover was standing next to me again, poised to throw that web at me.

  Reflex rather than premeditation commanded me. I rammed the tip of the knife up beneath his jawline and into his skull. I heard my own sob as I did it, but I caught the smile of contentment that crossed his face. He let go a little sigh before he disappeared. Gone. Reaped.

  I pitched forward, the knife ahead of me like a lance.

  Rory smirked at me, then nodded toward where Nicki was blazing brightly. His other fae had leapt free of the chaos of fire, but had left Callum where he'd lain. With a flick of his wrist, Rory called that fae back to service and he scooped Callum out of the vicinity of the blaze, now spreading like proverbial wildfire, and lifted Callum from underneath his chin high above his head. Callum's feet dangled from the floor just inches off the floor.

  I dropped the knife with a clatter to the stones.

  "Don't hurt him," I said. "It's not his fault. None of them. I'm to blame."

  Rory's face didn't look forgiving one bit. He had started to sweat from the heat of Nicki's flame and in the light of it his jaw was clenched.

  "Please," I whispered. "I'll do anything. Just let him go." I fleeted a gaze to where Nicki was, lost now behind a wall of flame. I prayed she was okay in there. Something about her fire this time was not normal.

  I felt the heat of the chamber like a suffocating cocoon that she had endured in her crib. This was larger and growing bigger every second, and it scorched everything it touched. I could see the moss on the stones singing and turning black.

  The heat Nicki threw off was far too much for the small space to contain. It was gathering and gorging on the oxygen. I felt as though my chest had been laden with lead weights and every expansion of my lungs was agony.

  It was beginning to rival the hellfire that had brought me back. Even Rory seemed to sense it and he stared, dumbfounded at the way it began to crawl up the stone wall behind her and trail along the floor as though it had sentience.

  I looked sideways at Sarah. She was back on her haunches again, struggling to stay up. With the loss of blood and the heat and the return from a death, I imagined she was far worse than spent. I needed to stop this. Stop it now. I'd lost already. I couldn't lose the people I loved too.

  I thought of all the terrible things Rory had done as I stood there, indecisive. Despite being a supernatural creature who no doubt had some dubious history, Warren hadn't deserved the suffering Rory had inflicted on him. Neither had the Fae I had just executed out of mercy. I remembered how Warren had mentioned that Rory fully intended to pull Nicki's teeth from her by the root long before their time and how painful that would be.

  A man who would deliver such threats, should understand what they meant. He should feel that pain himself before he inflicted it. I wished he could feel it all, every last pit of pain he wanted to inflict on others. I wished it with everything I had.

  As if by magic, the fae crony disappeared and Rory dropped to his knees. Both hands flew to his jaw. His face contorted the way it would if he was going to have a good cry. He was in pain. Pain. And I had caused it. I stared at him, dumbfounded for an entire heartbeat before I realized the truth and the source. It was Warren's aspect kicking in.

  I lunged at him. It was an awkward takedown at best, but better executed than the one I had attempted in the garden with Callum. I ducked my head down, charged with full thrust and didn't pull back out of fear one bit. I knocked him flat on his back. He writhed beneath me, the pain of his tooth forgotten as the wind knocked out of him.

  I couldn't kill a man with nothing but a toothache. I needed a knife. I'd dropped it. Back before I'd lunged for him. I searched frantically for it until, just a foot away, I could make out the glint of flame lighting the blade. So close and not close enough. I could strain for it and still not grab it.

  My hesitation gave Rory the chance to twist free and crab far enough away from me that he was dangerously close to Nicki's ever-growing fire. I had the feeling he was trying to get to his feet and the heat of the room was sucking his energy.

  "What did you do?" he said, rubbing his jaw.

  "Payback," I said. "From Warren."

  "I was going to spare you," he said. "Now? Not so inclined."

  Didn't matter how inclined he was. He wasn't going to come out of this whole. Not by a long shot. If I had to pull every doggone tooth from his mouth, I would.

  "He owes you," I said. "We all do."

  I imagined his back molars. I told myself just how they would hurt if they were yanked out with pliers.

  He screamed and his hands flew again to his mouth. It was the moment I needed. I threw myself toward where I had dropped the blade. I ended up a finger's breadth away, still not close enough. He moaned out loud, but I couldn't keep up the ability to hurt him. I wasn't skilled enough at it. It came only from fear and anger, not control.

  I could hear him scrabbling along the floor toward me. I tried to send a jolt of pain to his mouth again but couldn't. I was too much in a panic, trying to hard to reach the knife.

  "You little witch," Rory said from behind me. Close behind. I strained ever forward, trying with my toes to push just that extra inch.

  Firm fingers wrapped my ankles; a yank backwards sent me face first into the floor. I yelled, frustrated and afraid. Kicked out. Then felt something give way beneath my boot.

  I heard him swear and my ankles were freed long enough for me to realize I could move again. I tried to crawl again toward the knife.

  My scalp burned. He had my hair. Handfuls of it. I thought I heard the sound of popping as several strands came loose. I shrieked in pain and he yanked, twisting my face sideways and up so I could look him in the eye as he crouched next to me.

  His face was contorted in rage and it made me gasp out loud. Blood covered his chin and ran freely down his neck.

  "You're too late," he said through a mouthful of blood. He spit out a round, cavity laden tooth. He thrust his arm toward Sarah, pulling my hair with it and forcing me to see she had crumpled to her knees.

  "No one can help you," he said, then he jerked my chin to where Callum was still struggling to find consciousness. I winced with each movement.

  He gave my head a shake, and my teeth clamped down painfully on my tongue. I sobbed despite my resolve to seem strong. The fires roared around me: one at my back the other at my front. It was over. All over.

  "The spell is done," he said. "You're no more than a bug to me, a cockroach waving her little antenna."

  He pulled at my hair again as though to remind me just how vulnerable I was and I shrieked in pain. Both of my hands went to his, trying to yank his fingers free of the knots he'd created. He just twisted ever more gleefully and I caught his eyes above me. He was enjoying each yelp of pain, every shriek I let out. In that moment I knew one thing. If I couldn't kill him, I'd make him i
n toothless agony for the rest of his days.

  The effect was immediate. He let go his grip on my hair and fell back onto his shoulders, gripping his mouth. I wasted no time. The knife was close. All I had to do was scramble for it. I scraped my knees on the stone floor and ran a scrape up along my bare arm as I strained to grab it.

  And I did grab it. But the chamber was painfully quiet. I whirled around to see him climbing to his knees. I leapt. I landed on him as he thudded backward. His breath came out with a hiss. He went limp beneath my weight.

  "Maybe you can't die," I said. "But you can bleed."

  I straddled his chest. The blade was over my head, it had reached its zenith, and I wasn't sure why I was holding back.

  The seconds ticked out like they were drops of frozen molasses. This was no love-struck incubus or terminal fairy. He was evil. My anger was gone, and all that was left was cold calculation. A decision had to be made and an action taken.

  I thrust the knife down and I heard my own sob partner the descent.

  A slim hand wrapped around my wrist, trapping the blade midair, just over Rory's throat. Blood had begun to pool from the corners of his mouth onto the floor beneath him. He froze, his gaze flicking to something above my head.

  I was aware that the room had gone back to normal lighting. The fire had gone out. And there Nicki stood over me. Her skin seemed to glow from the inside. Her hair dripped down her naked back like the fire she had stepped from, hair very much like my own. Honey coloured eyes regarded me with compassion.

  She was gorgeous.

  "Let me do that for you, Madre," she said and before I could answer, she swiped her hand through the air over Rory's head. He lifted into the air, then she hurled him backwards, sailing over my head.

  I followed his path all the way to the hellfire and watched with cold satisfaction as the flames swallowed him whole.

  CHAPTER 22

  I almost expected things would happen the way they did in the movies. It certainly seemed slow motion as Rory, the fae mancer who had won immortality through deceit and brutality, disappeared whole into the hungry mouth of Hell. I completely expected the flames to die down as they devoured him. Lights would come up. Applause would sound.

  They didn't.

  The flames almost seemed to pulse with renewed vigor. The stink of sulfur grew.

  "Crap," I said. "Why isn't it disappearing?"

  I stared at it for a long moment, willing it to go away. I'd fought the fight. I should have won. We should have won. It should be over now and finished.

  I looked from Nicki to the flames, not sure what to do or what to say to her. She was so vibrant looking, almost hard to look at. It wasn't just the fact that she was completely nude; it was because there was a totally unearthly quality about her that was unmistakable. That hair shone even where the candlelight didn't strike it. Her eyes had a penetrating quality that made them seem too intense. They seemed to look straight into the backs of my retinas and find every image ever burned there.

  Her owl seemed unaffected by the events. It flitted from its spot next to the mortar that Rory had dropped on the floor beside Sarah to Nicki's shoulder. It perched there staring back at me with unblinking black eyes that felt as invasive as Nicki's stare.

  It was only when I heard Sarah moan that I remembered things weren't over after all. No. they were far from finished. I spun on my heel to see how she was faring.

  She lay on her side within the circle, but I noticed that one arm had flung past the perimeter of Rory's protective circle. I rushed to her, lifting her wrist and feeling for a pulse. It was there, thank heaven. Strong, but sporadic.

  "Sarah," I murmured to her. "It's over."

  I crouched next to her, praying for her eyes to flutter open. With a tentative touch, I felt the back of her forehead, stroked her hair from her face. She wasn't hot, thank the heavens, and she wasn't clammy either. I felt for her pulse. It grew stronger under my touch but it was far from a perfect rhythm.

  "We won. You're safe," I said to her, hoping the news would help revive her.

  She moaned and struggled to open her eyes.

  A bare foot came into view from behind me.

  "Is she alright, Madre?"

  Nicki. I hesitated to look at her. My mind was racing to work out what had happened and I wasn't sure I wanted her to read anything in my expression even if it was confusion.

  "Madre?"

  "She's lost a lot of blood," I said, forcing myself to look at Nicki's ankles. I couldn't bring myself to drag my gaze higher. I was nervous all of a sudden. No idea what to do or say in the face of a grown demigod.

  I hadn't expected Nicki to crouch next to me; after all, she had bonded much stronger with Sarah. I thought she would want to be close to her, but she didn't. She hummed lightly to herself, a short tune that I thought I recognized from the wee hours when the infant in her needed swaddling in the middle of the night and Sarah had taken on the duty. To my surprise and astonishment, Sarah just lifted in the air, the way Rory had beneath Nicki's hand.

  I had seen it already with Rory, but it didn't make this levitation any less surprising. I stood hands wringing together as Sarah hovered waist height, waiting to see what would happen next, afraid to so much as breathe.

  Nicki passed her hands over Sarah's entire form inch by inch and I could swear I saw light glowing from beneath Sarah's skin. The slices in her skin knit together. Her cheeks turned pink. I had to stuff my hand in my mouth to keep from crying out.

  "Is she better?" I whispered, not daring to tempt the gods with too loud a question.

  Nicki offered a short smile but no answer. Instead, she turned heel and went to where Callum lay and did the same thing to him as she did to Sarah.

  The silence in the meantime was unnerving.

  Only when both of them hovered in the air together, serene looking but still not quite conscious did Nicki turn to me. The owl on her shoulder spread its wings to balance itself as she moved.

  "I have fixed the bodies," she said. "But the minds will need work."

  I nodded stupidly, not sure what had just happened or how she had done it. I figured we would all need some therapy after this, but I didn't care one bit. It was enough they were alive.

  "You are pleased, Madre?" she said.

  Again, I nodded, not trusting my voice.

  Nicki smiled, showing brilliant teeth and I caught a sob as it tried to escape. All of this had started with teeth. I felt for my cheek, trying to find my own molars through the skin. Poor Warren, but in a way he had done his part and it was because of him that I was able to knock Rory on his butt long enough for Nicki to finish him. I swiped at a tear.

  "They will sleep a while yet," Nicki said, nodding toward Sarah. "They need time. You understand?"

  "Yes," I managed although I didn't. I couldn't imagine ever understanding.

  "Good," she said.

  The fire crackled from behind us, catching us both off guard.

  Nicki's head cocked to the side as though she was listening for something.

  "What is it?" I said.

  She laid a finger over her lips, cocked her head again before she strode over to the perimeter of flames. Then she leaned over without so much as holding onto her hair to protect it from the flames. I caught my breath and held it as she stuck her hand deep into the belly of the fire. The flames licked up around her arm, snaking their way toward her neck but not one sizzle of flesh nor smell of burning skin rose to the air.

  "Come," she said with a note of authority.

  I lurched toward her, my feet seeming eager to obey, but soon realized she didn't mean me at all. She was talking to someone else, someone inside the flame. For a horrible moment, I was terrified of what she was bidding to her. The owl had launched itself above her, out of reach of the flames and screeched down into the belly of the fire, as though to echo her call.

  Whatever she was reaching for seemed reluctant to obey. She had to use both hands to yank at something, and she stag
gered as whatever she had clasped seemed to let go abruptly. With a growl that reminded me of a panther, she leaned in once more, braced her feet and reached deep.

  Stunned, I watched as a hand crawled up from the flames and gripped her wrist. A heartbeat later, she was pulling on that hand, extracting a forearm and then a shoulder.

  A broad, magnificent, chiselled shoulder covered in bruises and what looked like bite marks emerged.

  Azrael. She was pulling Azrael out from the depths of Hell.

  I collapsed onto my knees at sight of him, afraid to let the sight of him soak in.

  Naked just like Nicki, but battered and bruised and swollen in places. His cheek bones had been crushed, it seemed. Flesh on his legs was torn in ragged shreds that hung from the bone in places. I might have called out to him at the sight, but I wasn't sure. I only knew I rubbed at my own arms, imagining them filled with bruises and broken skin.

  I flashed back to the moments we had joined with each other so intimately, just so I could enter Hell with him, the way he carried me, and then I did say his name. It erupted from me in a flood of horror and pity for the ragged thing he was, that he had become for my sake.

  He swung his gaze to mine at his name and then stepped free of the fire, almost as though he didn't see the others hovering there. Such a look of relief came across his face, that I teared up. It was him. Even through the bruises, that arrogant look could belong to no one else, and I was glad of it. Happy to see it.

  Even as I watched, those bruises began to fade. The bites dissolved. Material gathered over his body. My favorite. A white T-shirt and jeans. He left his chin scruffy with charcoal stubble. He turned to Nicki who was standing awkwardly, flexing her hands open and closed by her sides. She looked nervous, like a kid waiting in front of her parents for a scolding.

  "Thank you," he said to her.

  A ghost of a smile came and went on her face.

  "You knew where I was?" he said and she nodded.