Dark Kiss Of The Reaper

by Kristen Painter

  The rain dribbled to a halt. A few rays of sun leaked through, sparkling off the puddles left behind. One of the balcony doors opened a fraction. Klotho peeked her head out.

  “Please, Azrael, go home. We know she’s ill, but there’s nothing—”

  “Don’t lie. It spoils your beauty.” He unfurled his wings to the sun, casting the Virgin in shadow. “I want an audience with Atropos. Now.”

  “She doesn’t wish to speak to you.” Klotho blinked hard.

  “And you think what Atropos wishes matters to me?” He opened himself further to the Darkness. Let them see the being he truly was. Let them understand he was done being their pawn. “Send her out.”

  Klotho shook her head, sadness evident in her limpid blue eyes. “Go home, Azrael.”

  She moved back to shut the door.

  “I will not be dismissed.” He gave the Darkness full voice and shouted for Atropos again. Tiny cracks shot through the glass in the first floor windows. Klotho disappeared, quickly replaced by Lachesis.

  The Mother waved her silver rod. “What’s done is done. Leave us be.”

  “Send. Atropos. Out.” He thrust his wings forward, hurling a blast of wind against the house and shattering the cracked windows.

  Lachesis opened her mouth to speak, but a wizened hand on her arm stopped her. Atropos, leaning heavily on her carved-bone cane, shuffled out of the house.

  “What do you want, Reaper? I’m weary and need my rest.”

  “I want answers.” The Darkness struggled against his control, but he stayed it for the moment.

  “Your mortal is sick. It appears you are to blame. What other answers are there?”

  With a gut-deep bellow, he cracked the glass the next story up. “Did I or did I not cause the cancer in her body?”

  Atropos cocked her head, her rheumy eyes pinning him with a cold glare. “You fault your brothers for their brief liaisons, but none of their women have grown ill. You chose to spend time with her, to bring her to your home, to couple with her repeatedly...” She shook her gray head, the small hairs on her chin trembling. “One might do well to assume you are to blame.”

  He howled in frustration.

  She spat on the ground. “You are a Reaper. Or have you forgotten that? Death and mortals may mix on occasion, but to create a union with one...pah.”

  “Blast you, old woman! You encouraged me to pursue her.”

  “But not to make her part of your life.” She sighed. “You are the most foolish of your brothers.”

  White-hot anger threatened to blind him and wrench away the last bit of control holding back the Darkness. For Sara’s sake, he found a sliver of calm and held on a little longer. “Tell me how to fix this.”

  Atropos smirked. “You’re too weak.”

  For Sara, he would endure anything. “I will do whatever it takes.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Try me.”

  She dug into the folds of her long robes, extracted a small vial of greenish liquid and tossed it to him.

  He caught it and held it up to the light. Bands of black swirled within the mossy depths. “What is this?”

  “Give it to her and it will remove all trace of you from her memory. You’ll have a few moments once she ingests it to remove yourself from her sight. Then you must never see her again.”

  He squeezed the bottle in his fist. “How is that going to help?”

  “Without the presence of Death in her life, she should be able to recover.”

  “Should isn’t good enough.”

  Atropos shrugged. “Then stay with her. Sit at her side. Hold her hand. But when she dies before her time and Kol reaps her soul, you will forever wonder if things could have gone differently. Or…” She shrugged.

  “Or what?”

  She shuffled closer. “Take her soul now, yourself, and spend the rest of your existence peering into the blank eyes of each passing Shade trying to find her.”

  Disbelief numbed him into silence.

  She turned to make her way back inside. “Just as I suspected. You’re too weak.”

  A jagged tear opened across his heart. The pain gave him voice. “How long do I have to say good bye once she takes the potion?”

  “A minute or two. Not long.”

  “And what of her friends? Co-workers? She was registered in the hospital as married. There will be questions.” He held the vial up on the tips of his fingers as his insides went numb with sorrow. “I doubt this can solve all that.”

  Atropos shook her head, leaning heavily on her cane. “A few strands respun, a thread added here or there. We will take care of the rest.”

  “Then take care of her as well. Don’t make me do this.”

  “You are too deeply threaded through her life.” Atropos shuffled toward the door with a long sigh. “Love tangles everything.”

  * * *

  In an empty hospital bathroom, Azrael assumed human form for the last time. There would be little need for it after tonight. He’d already been to Sara’s apartment to collect the diamonds he’d bought her and the pearls his brothers had given her. This was the last step. The last time he’d see her. Kiss her. Inhale her scent.

  Closing his eyes, he bowed his head, breathing deeply to find a place inside him capable of seeing this wretched but necessary deed through to its end. He’d made her sick. It was his responsibility to give her a chance to get well.

  He walked into the hospital’s florist shop. Despite the fact he was to leave nothing behind that might remind Sara of him, he refused to go to her bedside empty-handed.

  “I’ll take those.” He pointed to the large bouquet of red roses in the display case.

  “Those are awesome. Two dozen definitely says get well better than one.” Snapping her gum, the sales girl lifted the vase out and set it on the counter. “Would you like us to deliver them to the room? It’s totally free.”

  He handed her some cash. “No, I’ll take them with me.”

  She gave him his change. “There are little cards right down in front of the register if you’d like to add a note.” She pointed with one glittery, black fingernail.

  After a moment he selected one, jotted a brief message, then slipped it into an envelope and handed it to the girl.

  She secured it into a little plastic holder and stuck it amid the roses. “All set. You must be going to see someone special.”

  “Yes,” he said. His gut knotted. “My wife.”

  “That’s cool. Did she have a baby? We just got these really cute balloons in with baby booties on them and pink—”

  “No.” The knot pulled tighter. “She has cancer.”

  “Oh.” Her kohl-rimmed eyes widened. “I’m totally sorry.”

  Ignoring her, he took the roses, made his way into the elevator and up to Sara’s floor. How fitting they should say goodbye in the same place they met. His footsteps rang hollow in the quiet hall. Visiting hours would be over soon. The glass vial shifted in his pocket.

  He paused at the door to Sara’s room. A ravenous ache gnawed his heart raw, shredding the edges into a bloody pulp. He imagined if he had a soul, the pain of what he was about to do would rend it in two. He closed his eyes, inhaled the sour hospital air and opened the door.

  The bed made her look small and fragile. The tubes running out of her didn’t help. Passing the other empty bed, he went to her side, each step hot coals and broken glass. The window ledge held a potted plant and a pink rabbit holding balloons. It was good to know there were others to care for her when he was gone. He added the roses to the collection and returned to her.

  “Sara,” he whispered her name, half hoping she would stay asleep and he’d be unable to give her the potion. “It’s me, Sara. I’m here.”

  Her lids fluttered open. Bruised shadows hung beneath her glassy eyes.

  “Hi,” she whispered back. Her hand went to her throat. “So dry.”

  He hurried to pour water into the plastic cup provided, sloshing some onto the bedside
tray. “Sorry.”

  She smiled weakly. “S’okay.”

  He helped her sit, supporting her with an arm behind her back. She felt thin beneath the hospital gown. He kissed her head. Cursed the cancer. Himself.

  She sipped then nodded she was done. “Thanks.

  He eased her back into the bed. “I’m so sorry...” He griped the bed rail, unable to finish.

  She patted his hand. “Az, these things happen.”

  “Not in this case.” He hated himself.

  Her face scrunched in a sweet, uncertain expression. “What’s that mean?”

  “You have... The reason...” He smacked the bed rail and spun away, the dull thunk ringing over the whirr of machines. “I’m the reason you have cancer.”

  “That’s silly. You can’t catch cancer.” Her hand tugged at his elbow.

  He turned back to face her. “You have cancer because of who I am. Because of being around me.”

  Her mouth opened but nothing came out. Confusion spun through her beautiful eyes.

  Leaning over her, he bent down to kiss her forehead, then thought better of it. He’d done enough damage. He stood up, tried to smile for her sake. “Because I am Death, you have begun to die.”

  She started to shake her head.

  “It’s true. I’m responsible. But I have this.” He fished the wretched glass vial from his pocket. “This...” He tossed the container into the air, catching it with a lightness he didn’t feel. “Will make things better.”

  What else could he tell her? The truth? She would fight it. He knew that much about the woman he’d married. She would never willingly give up being his. His love for her expanded with that thought and his jaw quivered. He ground his teeth together and blinked back the heat building in his eyes. No matter that he was losing the only love he’d ever known. He had to stay strong. For her.

  “What is it?”

  “Magic.” He forced a smile. “To make all your troubles go away.” Not a lie.

  A lopsided grin lifted one corner of her mouth. “And then I’ll be the queen again?”

  He swallowed, tried to fight back the guilt buffeting his heart. “You’ll always be a queen to me.”

  He started to thumb the cork off, then stopped. Cancer be damned, he needed to kiss her one last time. He bent and found her mouth. Tenderly, he kissed her and hoped the memory would last an eternity.

  Her hand came up to catch his neck. “I love you, Az. And no matter what happens, I don’t regret any of this. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Her words almost broke him. He bent his head into her chest, felt her kiss the top of his head. Picturing Atropos, he used his anger as a focus. Sara deserved a chance at life.

  Purpose renewed, he stood, uncorked the vial and handed it to Sara.

  “Here goes nothing.” She tipped it to her lips and drank. Grimacing, she handed the empty vial back. “It must be magic, it tastes horrible.”

  He dropped the container into his pocket.

  “I feel funny...” Her lids shuttered, her head lolled to one side.

  Lifting her hand, he kissed her knuckle to distract her as he slid her wedding rings off. He pocketed the rings. The soft clink of them against the glass vial jabbed more pain into his heart.

  Her lashes fanned over her pale cheeks and her breathing evened out. He slipped his hands behind her neck, found the clasp of the necklace he’d given her on their first date.

  “What...are you...” Her head rolled to the other side. “Az...love you.”

  He unhooked the necklace and squeezed it in his palm, trying to hold onto the heat left in the metal. “I love you, too, Sara. I always will.”

  Her eyes closed. It was time for him to leave. The pendant went cold in his hand, but the chill was nothing compared to the ice gripping his heart.

  Chapter Twenty

  A gentle hand shook Sara awake. Manda’s kind brown eyes smiled down at her. “Sorry to wake you, baby girl, but I’ve got to take your temperature.”

  “Huh?” Sara scrubbed a limp hand over her face. “What?”

  “I need to take your temp.” Manda slipped the thermometer into Sara’s mouth. “Here we go.”

  “Hmmkay.” The pain in her head was the lightest it had been for a long while, but a thick fuzziness had taken its place. She blinked. Tasted the plastic wrapper on the thermometer with her sandpaper tongue.

  Manda bustled around the room, doing whatever it was she did. The thermometer beeped. She took it from Sara and read the result. “Slight temp, but that’s normal. You’re doing great. Can I get you anything?”

  “Water.” Her hand went to her throat. For a brief moment, her bare neck felt odd. Like there should have been something there. She ignored the sensation. She didn’t wear a necklace. Never had.

  Manda poured water into a glass, found a straw and helped Sara up. “Here you go.”

  Sara drank deeply. Water had never tasted so good. “Thanks. That’s better.” She licked her lips, running her tongue over the chapped skin.

  “How’s your pain? Don’t be brave. If you hurt, hit the button.” Manda pressed the controller for the pain meds into her hand.

  “I’m okay.” Ignoring the controller, she stared at the IV in the back of her hand. She groaned softly. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. Like my life isn’t crappy enough.”

  “Honey, cancer doesn’t care who you are or what your life is like. It goes after everyone equally. Now it’s your job to fight this thing.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She exhaled a long slow sigh. “Have I been out a long time? I feel completely out of it.”

  “Considering all the meds in your system, that’s understandable.” Manda wrote a few things in Sara’s chart. “Sorry I can’t bring you dinner, but you’ve got surgery first thing tomorrow and you know the drill.”

  “Yeah.” Sara stared at the ceiling. Unwelcome tears blurred her vision.

  Manda squeezed her hand. “I know you’re scared, sweetheart, but we’re all here for you. You’re going be fine, you’ll see. You’re young and strong and this is not going to get the best of you. You survived being married to Ray, didn’t you?”

  She sniffed and laughed, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks. “Thanks. I’m really glad I have you guys to look after me.” Married. Wasn’t there something else she ought to know about that? The fog didn’t clear in time to make sense of the brief flicker of thought.

  “It’s going to be all right, you’ll see.” Manda patted her hand. “Try to sleep, okay?”

  “I don’t think I can.” The dangers of surgery spun through the clouds in her mind. Complications and risks were very possible. She knew that well enough from working on this floor.

  Manda picked up the remote and turned on the television. “Maybe there’s a movie on. Something to take your mind off things.”

  Like the nagging feeling that she was supposed to remember something and couldn’t.

  Dane came in carrying a stuffed bear with a red and white polka dot bow around its neck. “How you doing, kid?” He wiggled the bear’s paw in a wave. “Just a little something to cheer you up. Guess I’ll put it with the others.”

  “No, wait.” She reached out for the stuffed animal, oddly desperate for something to fill her hands. “He’s cute. I want to hold him.” Dane handed her the bear and she hugged it close. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hitched his thumb toward the line of plants, flowers and stuffed animals on the window ledge. “This place’ll be a florist shop in no time.”

  She tried to think who might have sent her those things, but her mind came up blank. “Could you read some of those cards to me? I can’t remember who sent what.”

  “Sure.” He picked up the stuffed bunny. “This is from the crew at Grounded. They say get well soon, coffee sales are way down.”

  She smiled. “Keysha definitely wrote that.”

  He moved on the basket of assorted potted plants. “This one’s from your brother and mo
ther, but there’s not much on the card besides get well and we love you.”

  “How do they know I’m in here?” She glanced at Manda.

  “One of them must be listed as your next of kin. I’m sure registration called,” Manda said.

  Dane continued to a colorful mixed bouquet. “This one is from all of us on the floor. We all signed the card.”

  “Except Charlene,” Manda said. “She’s been out with the flu for two days.”

  Beside the mixed bouquet was a huge arrangement of roses. Dane twisted the vase to reach the card. “This one’s not open yet. Want me to leave it?”

  “No, open it. They’re probably from Ray trying to make himself look good.” She snorted. “Like I don’t know he’s already thinking if I die, he doesn’t have to pay alimony anymore.”

  Face stern, Manda lightly smacked her leg. “Don’t even say things like that.”

  Sara laughed. “You know it’s true.”

  Dane ripped the envelope open and pulled out the small florist card. He scanned it, then looked up with an odd glint in his eyes. He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think this is from Ray.”

  “Why not?” Sara asked.

  “‘Cause I doubt Ray would write this.” He handed her the card.

  A line of small, artsy hearts bordered the card and an easy, loping gait defined a handwriting that looked vaguely familiar. She read the message. Dane was right, the words wouldn’t have come from Ray.

  Manda nudged her. “What’s it say?”

  She looked up. “You’ll always have my heart.”

  Manda laughed. “Yeah, if Ray sent them, it’d probably say you’ll always have my wallet.”

  Dean chuckled along with her. “Sounds like you have a secret admirer.”

  “Or a weird stalker who picks on cancer patients.” Sara turned the card over but there was no signature. “Let me see the envelope?”

  Dane handed it over. Blank except for the florist’s shop name and address. She pointed it at the roses. “At least we know they came from the shop here.”

  Manda checked her watch. “They’re open another hour. You want to have Dane call down, see if he can find out who sent them?”

  “Why me?” Dane asked. “I have work to do too, you know.”