Dark Kiss Of The Reaper

by Kristen Painter

  Ryka nodded. “That’s exactly what I was talking about. You just need one thing.” She rummaged through the garment bags, finally lifting free a long wisp of crystal-studded tulle. With a few deft movements, she anchored it into Sara’s hair and fluffed the veil out to fall gracefully around her face.

  “There.” Ryka stood back, obviously pleased.

  “Wow,” Sara whispered. She couldn’t believe the woman in white staring back from the mirror was her. “I don’t think I need to try anything else on.”

  “I agree.” Ryka looped her arm over the rack’s hanging bar. “You look amazing. You’re going to knock him dead when he sees you.”

  Sara smiled. “I don’t think there’s much chance of that.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  As the first strands of Pachelbel’s Canon in D lifted from the string quartet, Azrael turned to watch Sara glide down the rose petal strewn aisle of the outdoor chapel.

  His breath caught in his throat at first sight of her. Everything else fell away in that moment and his world narrowed down to her, his angel in white. What else was there but the woman who held his heart and gave his life reason?

  Step by step, she narrowed the space between them, shortening the time before they would be bound together. A sharp, beautiful pain filled him. He had no name for it, but felt as though he could laugh and cry at the same time.

  Standing beside him now, she gazed up from beneath the veil, eyes large and liquid, and mouthed the words, “I love you.”

  He smiled. Nearly laughed, his joy was so great. “And I you,” he whispered back.

  The officiate spoke his words, they responded with their vows, and the pronouncement was made. In a fleeting instant, they were man and wife. Death and his mortal lover. He lifted her veil and kissed her sweet mouth tenderly.

  Philippe, who had stood as their witness, smiled as they broke the kiss. “You two make a lovely couple. I wish you the happiest of lives togeth—”

  Slow, deliberate clapping interrupted Philippe’s congratulations.

  Azrael looked toward the sound. Kol leaned against one of the ivy-wrapped columns, his hands meeting in a determined beat. Chronos stood beside him, both in their mortal forms. Not that Kol looked any different.

  Kol stopped clapping and wiped at a tear that wasn’t there. “Touching. Is there an open bar?”

  “I didn’t know you invited them,” Sara whispered.

  “I didn’t,” he answered. He glanced back at the officiate who eyed Kol with a healthy nervousness. Philippe stared as well. Azrael cleared his throat to get their attention off Kol. “Thank you for performing the ceremony. If you don’t mind, we’d like to be alone now.”

  The officiate nodded and took off. Philippe did not. “I can call security if you wish.”

  “No, thank you. We’re fine. We just need some privacy.”

  Philippe nodded, looking unconvinced. “As you wish.” He kept his gaze on Kol as he left.

  Kol, who’d obviously been watching from behind his ever-present dark glasses, laughed and headed for the cake table.

  Chronos shook his head and walked toward them. “What do you think this marriage is going to accomplish?”

  “What do you care?” Azrael bit back, wrapping a protective arm around Sara. “My life. My way. And if I’m happy, so be it.”

  “Sucker.” Kol dragged his finger through the buttercream icing, leaving a stripe of chocolate cake visible, and stuck it into his mouth.

  Chronos sighed. “Until she dies and one of us has to reap her soul. And if it’s not you—”

  “Stop talking about Sara like she’d not here. And it will be me that reaps her soul.” Somehow, he would make sure her soul came through him. Then he had a chance of holding on to it, of keeping her with him.

  “You don’t know that.” Chronos dipped his head at Sara. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I know what importance a wedding day holds for mortal women, but my brother has done a very foolish thing.”

  She straightened a bit. “Love often is a very foolish thing. That doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

  A slight, sad smile bent Chronos’ mouth. “On one hand it is a very noble thing that you love my brother knowing him for who he is, however, on the other hand, it is unspeakably cruel.”

  “Cruel? That I love him? How?” Indignation flashed in her eyes, more brilliant than the diamonds adorning her.

  Chronos stepped closer. “You will live for perhaps eighty or ninety years, if the Fates are kind. You will grow gray and bent, weakening as the days press you back down into the earth you were born from.”

  His eyes slanted at Azrael, then back to her. “Azrael, still unchanged, will have to watch you succumb to the ravages of time, unable to stop the inevitable. And then, when you die, he will be left with nothing but memories and an eternity alone in which to grieve you.”

  His mouth thinned into a hard line. “That is what I mean by cruel.”

  She looked stricken, although Azrael sensed she fought to hide her reaction. Liquid rimmed her eyes. Biting her lip, she glanced at Azrael. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand—”

  “Hush now.” He took her face in his hands. He had to make her see that the truth his brother spoke didn’t matter. “My beautiful Sara. What my brother fails to understand is that whatever time we have together is worth what follows after. I love you. And I will not trade what we have for anything.” He brushed a kiss across her lips before releasing her and turning his attention back to Chronos. “If you cannot be happy for me, you need to leave. Today is a day of celebration.”

  “You’ve made your peace with the future then?” Chronos narrowed his eyes as if he wouldn’t believe Azrael’s answer no matter what it was.

  “Yes. And I chose to live in the present.” Azrael didn’t need his brothers’ approval, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it. “You can celebrate this day with us, or leave.”

  “I’m staying.” Kol waved the bottle of champagne he’d been drinking out of. In his other hand, he held a chunk of wedding cake. “Vegas is my kind of town.”

  “Then I will stay too.” Chronos shrugged. “You may need a hand with him.” He turned away, then hesitated and faced Sara. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, it wasn’t my intention. I will try to be more mindful of mortal emotions when you are present. You are a lovely woman and you’ve done something no other mortal has been capable of.” He smiled. “You’ve gotten my brother to have some fun.”

  Extending his hand, he offered her a small, hinged box of red leather. “Please accept this as a token of my apology. A wedding gift will follow.”

  She accepted the box and opened it. Black pearl and diamond drops gleamed in the Nevada sun. “You reapers sure know your way around a jewelry store. They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  “They’ll look lovely on you.” Azrael nodded, pleased with his brother’s gift and Sara’s willingness to forgive.

  “You’re welcome.” Chronos called over his shoulder for Kol. “Come here.”

  Kol sauntered over without releasing the bottle of champagne. He took a long swig, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “What now?”

  “Your gift,” Chronos urged.

  “Huh? Oh yeah.” Kol shook the icing off his fingers and dug inside his long black coat. “Here.” He handed Sara another red leather box, this one a flat square, larger than Chronos’ offering.

  She opened it and gasped again. A strand of matching black pearls rested on ivory velvet. “They’re absolutely stunning. Thank you so much.” She looked at Kol with an odd smile on her face. “There’s not a curse on these or anything, is there?”

  “No.” Kol had the audacity to look hurt when Chronos and Azrael laughed. “Whatever.” He jerked his thumb back toward the empty courtyard. “Where are all the drunk bridesmaids?”

  Azrael rolled his eyes. “There is no wedding party. It was to be Sara and myself alone.”

  Kol shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m out of here. This party
blows compared to what’s happening on the Strip.” Shards of black smoke glimmered where he’d stood, then dissipated into nothingness.

  “Perhaps I should take my leave as well since it was not your intention to entertain guests.” Chronos clapped Azrael on the shoulder.

  “You don’t have to go,” Sara countered.

  “Thank you, but you should be able to enjoy this day together. I would only be in your way.” Before she could say another word, Chronos dissolved into a million tiny pieces and blew away on the wind like a handful of sand.

  “Your brothers don’t get any less weird the more I see of them.” She lifted the jewelry boxes. “The gifts were a nice touch, though. Completely unexpected.”

  Azrael chuckled. “The gifts took me by surprise as well.” They’d done more than surprise him; they’d given him a fragment of hope that his brothers might accept Sara into their world. He drew her back into his arms. “Let’s forget about them and focus on us.”

  She smiled. “We’re married.”

  “Indeed we are.”

  “Does that make me Mrs. Death?” She laughed, then sighed and rested her cheek against his chest. “I don’t want this feeling to end.”

  “What feeling is that?”

  “This unending happiness. It’s like being intoxicated without any of the bad side affects.” She exhaled softly. “I don’t want to go back to my regular life.”

  He pulled away to look at her. From this angle, the succulent valley between her breasts begged for his tongue. “What do you mean, your regular life?”

  “Work and all that.” She waved her hand as if what she spoke of was insignificant.

  “Surely you don’t think you need to continue working. Everything you need I can take care of.”

  She patted his chest like he was a child. “I know that, but you can’t expect me to just up and quit. I have to give them two weeks notice. It wouldn’t be right not to.”

  “Two weeks?” It seemed an eternity.

  “Yes. Two weeks. Now stop pouting and take me back to the room. I want to see what married sex feels like.”

  “I wasn’t pouting, I — okay, let’s go.” He wasn’t about to waste time arguing. Not when she’d end up doing what she wanted anyway. Stubborn mortal woman. He laughed. His stubborn mortal wife.

  “What’s so funny?” She squeezed his hand as they headed for the elevators.

  “Nothing, wife. Nothing at all.”

  * * *

  Sara laid in her bed, in her apartment, Azrael by her side. The weekend had left her pleasantly sore and a little worn out, but she was still sorry it was over. She couldn’t bear to open her eyes. Not yet.

  She winced. The first pointed fingers of a migraine jabbed into her skull.

  He nibbled the curve of her neck. “Are you awake?”

  “Almost,” she mumbled, rolling away from him to hide a grimace of pain. “I need coffee. I think I had too much champagne again.”

  He massaged her back. She moaned as the pleasure of his touch warred with the pain blossoming in her head.

  “Does that feel good?” he asked.

  “Oh, yeah.” She didn’t want to interrupt him to get coffee, but her system screamed for the caffeine it knew was hot and waiting in the kitchen.

  His gentle hands went lower, kneading her shoulder blades then down along her spine. She congratulated herself on marrying so well. Married. She smiled and sighed into her pillow.

  He scooped her close against his warm, naked body. “Good morning, wife.” He kissed her temple. It began to throb. “Stay in bed. I’ll get you some coffee.”

  “I love you,” she whispered. Anything louder would kill her.

  The bed moved as he got up. She almost opened her eyes just to watch him walk away. A backside like that should be admired whenever possible. But the thought of letting daylight behind her lids made her nauseous.

  She lay there, trying to find the strength to get up and get moving without letting Azrael know how much pain she was in. She didn’t want him to worry about something as silly as a headache.

  “Here’s your coffee, sweetheart.” The mattress sunk down as he sat.

  She inhaled the fresh brewed aroma and steeled herself. Now or never. She opened her eyes a slit, blinking to clear the haze.

  Two Azraels holding two cups of coffee sat beside her. She blinked again but the double vision didn’t go away. She rubbed her eyes. It didn’t help.

  She pushed herself up and a fresh blade of pain cut through her brain. “Oh...ow.” She clutched her head, unable to pretend any longer she was fine.

  “Sara, what’s wrong?”

  “Just a headache,” she mumbled, drawing her legs up and pressing her forehead into her knees. “I get these migraines every once in a while. It’ll pass. They always do.” Coffee. What she need was coffee.

  She lifted her head, still holding a hand to her brow. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” With a forced smile, she reached for the cup he still held, fighting the double vision to find the real one. Her nose started to run. Great. Coming down with a cold was exactly what she needed.

  Azrael’s eyes rounded. He set the coffee down before she could take it. “Something’s wrong.”

  “It will be if you don’t let me have my coffee.” She swiped at her nose and made a mental note to buy tissues. “I get these all the time. I’m fine, I promise.”

  “No, you’re not.” He grabbed her hand and held it up so she could see.

  A streak of blood smeared her skin. She inhaled, tugged her hand away and wiped at her nose again. More blood. She struggled to stay upright, her ears ringing with a tinny buzz that shut out all other sound. “I don’t...”

  Her vision narrowed down to pinpoints.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Azrael pounded on the emergency room desk. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with her? I want to know. I’m her husband.”

  “Sir, please.” The nurse gave him a stern look that did nothing to intimidate him. “The doctors have to run some tests. We’ll let you know as soon as they find something out.”

  “When will that be?” He’d waited hours already.

  “I don’t know, sir. Could be any time now.” She pointed back into the waiting room. “Have a seat and I’ll call you as soon as the results come in.”

  Have a seat. How was he supposed to wait patiently while Sara suffered? Why couldn’t he be with her? At least he could hold her hand and tell her everything would be all right. He closed his eyes for a moment, weary of being mortal and powerless. Maybe he should change into Reaper form and slip back there. See for himself what was going on.

  A doctor pushed through the swinging doors leading into the patient area. He read some paperwork on a chart, flipping pages as he walked. He stopped at the desk, looked at the nurse. “Page Mr. Grimm.”

  Azrael stepped forward. “I’m Mr. Grimm.”

  “I’m Dr. Stein. Why don’t we take a walk down to one of the consultation areas and I’ll explain what’s going on with your wife.” The doctor’s face was emotionless, his eyes blank. Completely unreadable.

  “Fine.” He followed the doctor a short way down the hall and into the private room.

  Shutting the door, Dr. Stein pointed to one of the chairs. “Would you like to sit?”

  “Just tell me what’s going on.” He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from pummeling the information out of the man. That would help nothing.

  Dr. Stein flipped some more papers. “Based on the symptoms your wife was having, we did a series of tests, a chest x-ray, a head CT, an MRI, some blood work.” He sighed. “She’s got a non small cell carcinoma on her right lung.”

  “Cancer?” Azrael shook his head. “But that doesn’t make sense. That wouldn’t give her headaches.”

  Dr. Stein nodded. “You’re right.” He tucked the chart under his arm. “We also found a metastatic brain tumor. That’s what caused the headaches, the double vision an
d the nose bleed.”

  “What?” Sharp pain punctured Azrael's gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. A cold, fluid numbness leaked down his spine.

  He fell into the closest chair. “You can treat this, right?”

  The doctor took the chair across from him. “Non small cell carcinomas grow slowly and unlike other types of lung cancer, we can usually remove this with surgery.” He paused. “The brain tumor is another story. We’ll operate to remove what we can, but its position makes it difficult to get all of it. Radiation and chemo are her best hope.”

  Azrael sat frozen, trying to find a way to comprehend everything the doctor was telling him. “Can I see her?”

  “Not yet, we’ve still got some more tests to run. Need to make sure the cancer hasn’t spread elsewhere. I assure you, she’s in good hands and in very little pain right now. We’ve got her on Mannitol to reduce the brain swelling, which will alleviate some of the headaches.”

  Azrael spoke around the lump in his throat. “What...what caused this?”

  He shrugged. “We’re not sure. She’s in great physical shape, healthy, non-smoker, much younger than the typical patient who presents with this. Cancer is one of those things where you can’t always pinpoint a cause.” He sat back. “It’s like something flipped a switch in her system that turned the cancer on. Judging from the size of the tumors, it happened pretty recently too.”

  Azrael buried his face in his hands. He had a good idea what that something was.

  * * *

  The first fat drops of hard rain hit the Fates’ balcony the second after Azrael materialized. The drops drove down, stinging his skin and melding into a solid sheet of water. If this was their way of getting rid of him, they were going to have to try harder.

  Much harder.

  “Atropos!” He called out with a voice fueled by the Darkness. “Klotho! Lachesis!”

  Nothing. Not a curtain moved in the massive stone house. They were in there, he could feel them. Sense them, just as he could his brothers, although not quite as strongly.

  “Come out now or I come in.”