Reaping Havoc

by AJ Rose

  So. When does it happen?

  Mitch cleared his throat. “I’ll have to email Katherine and let her know what we decided. She’ll take it from there.” Silence descended on the room until Mitch stood. He bent at the waist and kissed the top of Nate’s head. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

  As Mitch walked to Nate’s bedroom, he took out his phone, thumbing the screen to life. When the bedroom door shut with a quiet click, Nate sat back and threw his forearm over his eyes, holding his breath so the sob building in his chest stayed put.

  I have some things to say to you, and I don’t have a lot of juice left to type.

  He didn’t know if he could bring himself to read her words, but a chilly, tingling sensation scraped his forearm, and he let it drop from his face. The steady sound of typing went on for a few moments before he could make himself read.

  First, you did good. I like him. He’ll treat you with the respect you never got from anyone else. Second, fuck Mom and Dad. If they ever come around, don’t shut them out, but don’t take their shit either. It was not your fault I was on that mountain. I was where I wanted to be. Just like you’re doing now, I lived. Third, I’m proud of you.

  That last sentence was the final straw, and he loosed a sob more wrenching than anything he’d done at her funeral.

  Last, you’re the best brother in the history of brothers. I love you, dork.

  Unable to speak, he leaned forward and typed: I love you, nerd.

  The unmistakable feeling of a hug, albeit extremely cold, wrapped around him, and the weight of an invisible head landed on his good shoulder. He closed his eyes, finally finding his voice.

  “You’ll always be with me.”

  The cold lifted and the air seemed to exhale as she faded. Nate leaned forward, and with a few clicks, he saved the document, preserving their last conversation.

  * * *

  A light knock on the door had Mitch hurrying to answer before Nate tried to get up and do it himself.

  “Stay,” he said, pointing to the man. “You get a pass on being a good host since you’re injured.”

  “My legs are fine,” Nate grumbled but resettled into the couch cushions.

  They’d spent a restless night, with Nate unable to sleep despite being doped up. His pain was palpable, but not all of it was physical, and Mitch had listened long into the night while Nate talked about Tate. After the first couple of hours, Tate joined them in Nate’s bedroom to add her charade commentary to the stories. It was a celebration, pure and simple, of their childhood, and just before Nate succumbed to sleep, he’d said it was a better tribute to her than her funeral had been.

  Mitch held him, reacting appropriately to the stories or staying silent when grief tore at Nate. There was no pill, no procedure, and no words Mitch could say to make it better. His attention was the best possible medicine.

  Now, though, it was time to face the music.

  Katherine entered the apartment, looking sympathetic. “Are you ready for this?” she murmured to Mitch.

  “It’s not me who has to be ready,” he answered. “It’s them.”

  Tate sat beside Nate on the couch, her chin rested on his shoulder, both of them quiet. Even though she’d really given no indication she was close, Nate seemed to know, tilting his head in her direction as if resting his cheek on her hair.

  “Is this going to hurt?” Nate asked, looking up.

  Katherine stopped on the other side of the coffee table. “No more or less than initially losing her did, I don’t believe,” she said. “I am very sorry, Nate.”

  He sniffed and rubbed his good hand on his sweatpant-clad knee. “No, this is good. I was worried about her being able to move on when she said her door never came, so at least I’ll know I’m not holding her here by accident.”

  “We’ll take care of her,” Katherine reassured him. “Ready?” That was directed at Mitch.

  “Yes.”

  Kneeling before Nate, Mitch took his hands and closed his eyes, not entirely sure he would be able to transfer Tate’s connection to himself, but he assumed it would feel like that mental pull every time a connection was made. It briefly occurred to him not to accidentally grab Nate’s soul, but Tate was very strong. When he opened his eyes, he discovered why Tate felt so powerful; she clasped both their hands in hers.

  “I’m ready,” she mouthed. Her eyes were sad as well as uncertain. Ahead of her lay a tough decision, one that would affect her for eternity. In her shoes, he’d have been pretty damned scared, too.

  “I got you,” he said, voice low.

  A shift in the air began, as though a magnet were in the room and Mitch was made of metal, drawn inexorably to it. He planted his psychic muscles like digging his heels in the dirt, pulling against her rather than letting her pull him.

  Nate gasped, but Mitch focused inward, and like the relief of eardrums popping at altitude, Tate’s connection jumped from Nate to him. Nate slumped, pressing a hand to his head as though he were dizzy.

  “I’ve got her,” Mitch murmured to him. “She’s okay. Are you?”

  “Yeah, just gimme a second,” Nate said, swallowing a few times.

  “Sick to your stomach?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You have been through quite a bit in the last two days, Nate,” Katherine said. “Would you like help to lie down?”

  “No.” Nate resisted determinedly. “I want to be here when she goes.”

  “Okay. But you could lie on the couch.” Katherine dragged the throw pillow from the seat of the rocking chair and guided Nate to his back, cradling his head until he was as comfortable as his injuries would allow him to be.

  Mitch bent down and kissed his forehead. “I’ll see her through,” he promised. Turning to Tate, he nodded. “It’s time. One more goodbye.”

  Tate ruffled Nate’s hair and kissed his cheek, then resolutely turned her back to him as two tears tracked down her ethereal cheeks. Stepping to the center of the room, she looked at Mitch expectantly.

  Katherine didn’t say a word, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as she brought her arms up and out, as if offering herself to the Heavens. Maybe she was. Mitch had no idea how to summon a door. The air in the middle of the room shimmered, and Mitch had to squint when Tate’s door appeared out of nowhere.

  “They’re here for you, Tatum.” Katherine smiled with reassurance as the deep rumble of those on the other side of Tate’s door began to call for her.

  Tate glanced at Mitch uncertainly, and he drew up every bit of his psychic and emotional fortitude, trying to pass it to her through the connection. Her eyes flew open as she felt the flow of power into her. Mitch didn’t know what he was doing, going purely on instinct, but it seemed to have the intended effect. Tate solidified to the point where she was almost opaque.

  “I can see her!” Nate whispered in awe. “Not very well, but her shape.” He pointed with a trembling hand.

  The resonant voices grew louder, more compelling. Mitch still couldn’t make out the words, and he felt them more than heard them.

  “I’ll take care of him,” he promised the soul in his charge.

  Tate dipped her chin in acceptance, turned to Nate and blew him a kiss, and then stepped through her door. The light, already bright, sizzled to blinding and then disappeared, the afterimage seared onto Mitch’s retinas.

  “Goodbye, Tate,” Nate said. When the brightness dimmed and the room settled, he blinked and looked around. “Is it done?”

  “Yes,” Katherine answered.

  “So what happens now?”

  “She enters the contest and makes her choice.”

  “Will I get to know the outcome?” Nate asked, pleading with his eyes.

  Katherine pursed her lips. “I’ll see what I can do.” She made eye contact with Mitch. “You ready now?”

  He swallowed. More than ready, he thought with a shiver. Though he never would have expected to be here, in this moment, and the price he and Nate were paying
was steep, he couldn’t help feel somewhat anticipatory.

  He looked to Nate for reassurance. “A normal life, right?”

  Nate smiled, his eyes bright. “We’ll make it extraordinary.”

  “Okay.” Mitch closed his eyes. “I’m ready.”

  Katherine placed a cool palm across his forehead like a concerned mother checking a feverish child’s temperature. At first it was soothing, and the magnetic feeling he’d had connecting to Tate powered up again. It quickly intensified, sharp pain stabbing him between the eyes. He cried out, and there was no way he could concentrate on Katherine’s muttered words, almost chant-like as she spoke them in monotone. When his eyeballs were ready to pop out of their sockets, a blanket of heat descended on his skin, flared to where he almost couldn’t bear it, and then was gone.

  He sagged, and Katherine steadied him.

  “Okay?” she asked, checking him over. “You look none the worse for wear.”

  “I feel like someone shot me in the head with a nail gun and then put me in an MRI machine.”

  “Come. Sit,” she urged, leading him to the rocking chair. He sat and closed his eyes, his stomach rolling.

  “Are you sure it worked?”

  “Want me to punch you? Did it work.” Katherine scoffed, pretending offense. “I swear, reapers get more and more sarcastic with each new generation. Such skeptics.” She spoke to the ceiling, as though complaining to her supervisors, but when she looked at him, she winked.

  Mitch chuckled, his head and stomach settling down. “No, that’s okay. I don’t need an angel to punch me. I’d rather not know what that’s like.”

  “Probably wise,” Katherine agreed sagely. “Though I’m not as bad as the angels who smite. Those guys are way too serious.”

  She stood, looking over the two of them with affection and sympathy. “I think you boys need some time with your thoughts. Please don’t get up. I can see myself out. Mitch, it was a pleasure working with you.”

  “The pleasure was mine,” he said automatically.

  “No it wasn’t. You shouldn’t lie to a heavenly being.”

  “Let me rephrase; I liked having you as a boss, even if I didn’t like the terms of my contract.”

  She sobered. “Five years, gentlemen. Use them well.”

  And with that, she was gone.

  Epilogue

  The Five Year Plan

  “Oh yeah, right there.”

  “Lean back,” Nate urged, hands on Mitch’s hips as Mitch rode his cock, facing Nate’s feet.

  Mitch complied, letting his weight rest entirely on Nate’s torso. Nate’s lips latched onto the back of his shoulder, sucking up a mark as his thrusts sped up. Mitch held his knees, spreading himself and riding Nate’s plunges into his body, their grunts and groans picking up volume and frequency.

  This was Nate’s favorite position, using the bed as leverage to piston his hips hard, hands free to roam Mitch’s body, his neck within kissing distance. Mitch’s weight on him did things to him, too. They touched everywhere it mattered, and even if he couldn’t see their joining, it was akin to being blindfolded: unable to see heightened his sense of touch.

  “Close,” Mitch panted, turning his face to capture Nate’s lips. But they were too intent on the sensations at their core to maintain the kiss, resting cheek to cheek and breathing each other’s air.

  Nate volleyed several deep thrusts and exploded inside Mitch, hurling every ounce of pleasure into his husband. Mitch accepted and returned it with interest, in a veritable fountain of come painting his chest and stomach. Nate landed a hand in the sloppy mess and smeared it.

  “Dammit, we don’t have time for showers if we don’t want to be late,” Mitch complained, lying there panting and not moving.

  “Then you shouldn’t have tried to wake me up with a blow job.”

  Mitch turned and grinned. “Couldn’t help it. You were humping me in your sleep, and I wanted more than a rub-off.”

  “Up.” Nate slapped Mitch’s flank. “We save time if we shower together.”

  Mitch raised a brow. They both knew it wasn’t true, but Mitch moved toward the bathroom anyway, Sadie, on her pillow in the corner, barely acknowledging them. Despite Nate’s roaming hands, they managed to clean up in record time, throw the last of their toiletries in a bag, and clip Sadie to her leash.

  “Jeep or car?” Mitch asked.

  Nate rolled his eyes. “You’d think you’d know the answer to that by now,” he teased, unlocking the Jeep and opening the back door to help Sadie in. They tossed their bags on the floorboards and got in, discussing whether or not to stop for breakfast on their way out of town or wait until they were in some picturesque tourist trap.

  It was late October, and they were traveling nearly eight hours north to Estes Park, Colorado, for their last trip, a chance to relax and celebrate each other as well as cross one more thing off their bucket list.

  They’d traveled the world in their five years together. Gone skydiving, snorkeling in the Caribbean, skiing in Switzerland, walked medieval castles in England, and had crammed a lifetime’s worth of living in those years, so it seemed only fitting their final trip be in their home state. Mitch’s family had been somber when they’d announced plans to spend two weeks together out of town, but in the end, they hadn’t put up much of a fight when Mitch pointed out they’d be home in time for Thanksgiving and could do an early Christmas. They’d be back home when it mattered.

  When their time was up.

  As homage to Tate, they’d booked a room at the Stanley Hotel, purportedly one of the most haunted places in the country and the setting for the movie adaptation of Stephen King’s The Shining. Bringing Sadie along prevented them from staying on the fourth floor, billed as the most haunted portion, but they’d planned a couple tours, one of them in the overnight hours. If there were indeed ghosts in residence, Mitch wouldn’t be able to see them, and he could get a taste of how the rest of the world experienced paranormal phenomena. Nate had to laugh at how ridiculously excited Mitch had been, though they’d joked they should have taken this trip before Mitch had been scrubbed of his powers.

  “You know she won’t be there, right?” Nate asked, eyes darting to Mitch and back to the winding mountain road as they neared their destination.

  “Yeah, she’s up there doing comedy for the angels, I know. Still doesn’t mean there won’t be ghosts.”

  Nate grinned. “I wonder if she’s giving them enough hell they wish she’d picked that other place in her soul contest.”

  Mitch shook his head wryly. “I hope she’s giving Katherine a run for her money every now and then.”

  Shortly after Tate’s departure, Katherine had sent Charles an email—Mitch’s Divinity account had been deactivated—to let them know Tate was safe. After that, Mitch had been blissfully in the dark where all things reaper were concerned. His father had put off his retirement plans, and in the last few months, he’d received word another pair of reapers were being prepped to take over the area. That was all they knew. They didn’t even bring it up very often to keep from chancing Divinity choosing to give them a mind scrub. They were married, but when Nate asked afterward if the binding curse was in place, Mitch had answered he didn’t want to find out. Had no reason to try.

  The winding mountain roads in the late afternoon light were stunning, fall colors on the deciduous trees popping against the deep green of evergreens. The temperature was fairly warm in lower elevations, topping out in the mid-60s, but as they climbed, the chill in the air became more obvious. Nate was glad for his long sleeved T-shirt and vest.

  “Did I hear my name?” someone said from the backseat, where no voice should have been.

  Nate’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror, and Mitch whipped his head around, both men so startled they jumped. Nate’s hands jerked on the wheel, and the Jeep veered into oncoming traffic, Sadie’s startled barking getting his attention. He overcorrected as a delivery truck roared past, horn blaring.

 
; “Watch out!” Mitch shouted.

  The Jeep’s front end slammed into the cliff wall carved out to accommodate the highway.

  It’s too soon, Nate thought as they came to a clattery, broken rest. We had another month and a half.

  “Mitch?” he croaked, turning his head as a flare of pain crackled down his neck like lightning.

  There was no answer.

  Sadie’s whining came to him through a haze of muffled sound as his battered body settled and adrenaline flowed. He knew there’d be pain, just not how much.

  “It’s okay, girl. You’re okay,” he soothed, hoping he was right. Somehow the idea of the dog being badly hurt brought a sorrow he wouldn’t have believed possible. But the minute a warm tongue licked his temple, and he heard the sounds of her shuffling closer over the canvas of one of the duffel bags, he was reassured she might have come out with just bumps and fear.

  She whined again and nudged him, then shifted closer to Mitch. Nate’s blurry vision cleared a little, and he saw his husband was unconscious, head lolling against the seat, a streak of blood dripping out of his hair to plink to his shoulder. Thank God they’d both been wearing seatbelts.

  What the fuck? “What the fuck?” he demanded aloud, trying to turn enough to see Katherine in the backseat. She had been so quiet, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see no one was there when he finally managed to move enough to check.

  “Are you okay?” someone outside demanded through the glass of the window. He gave them his attention, noting the airbag in his lap deflated as though the steering wheel had blown a bubble with chewing gum, and it had popped all over him.

  “Help us,” he said, knowing there was no way he could do anything for them. He was afraid to move, afraid to catalogue the potential injuries. He could do the math. Frontal impact into an immovable wall at sixty miles an hour did not bode well for them.

  “We’ve already called an ambulance. They’re on their way, buddy. Just hang in there, okay?” The creak of his door opening grated on his nerves, but the warm hand that held his, dry and strong without being painful, went a long way toward calming him.