Reap & Reveal (The Reaper Series Book 3)

by Lisa Medley

  As she’d looked down on her body while in transit, she was certain that this was it, the end. The one saving grace was that she’d managed to keep her head. Camael could be defeated. She knew how! But now that her soul had been reaped, how could she ever warn the other reapers?

  Soon she’d be sorted and sent to her final resting place, but it would still be too late.

  The darkness overcame her and she stopped struggling, letting the weariness engulf her. She would have to accept whatever came next. She knew that, but something inside her could not, would not, stop fighting.

  ***

  While Nate slept, his mind stirred, trying to solve the problem of Maeve’s displaced soul.

  Her energy had latched onto him like a magnet. He couldn’t have stopped it any more than a man could have stopped a hurricane. Regret, guilt and elation all fought for control of his emotions. She was free of Camael, but was he really a better jailer?

  His one driving motivation over the past few months was to free her and bring her home. But not like this.

  Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.

  His mind reeled as the mantra echoed through him and he became aware of Maeve’s soul reaching into his consciousness, twining around his own until he wasn’t sure where his memories ended and hers began.

  Images played across his mental television as he eavesdropped on her memories, feeling like a trespasser in his own body.

  He watched the replay of the day Maeve had walked away from her family, her home, and it filled him with grief and despair. Everything had changed after her brother’s death, and she could no longer stand the pitying look in the eyes of her parents or the fearful looks of her peers. Her departure would only earn her a short reprieve. It wasn’t a long-term solution. Maeve knew she could never escape her past, but she could add some distance to it. Mute it into something she could bear. In a few years, she’d have to return for reaper training because the pull of the dead would become too strong to ignore. By then, if she were very lucky, the reaper community would find someone else to pity. For now, everything was too raw to be revisited and analyzed over and over.

  Her brother’s death had been deemed an accident, but the powers-that-be wanted to study her. See exactly what made her tick and why she seemed to exude such destructive energy. The last thing Maeve wanted was to become a lab rat or worse—a weapon. She was desperate to control her destiny.

  She’d left with a backpack and a knife. Having already managed to make it through a quarter of the reaper training, Maeve was certain she could take care of herself on her own. She’d wait as long as she could before returning. One thing was for sure: this place would never be home again.

  As she struggled back toward consciousness, Maeve began to realize she wasn’t dead. Not just yet anyway. She was entombed once again, although clearly not in her own body.

  Her host’s eyes snapped open and for the first time since her escape from Camael, Maeve was afraid. Inexplicably, she was still in her reaper’s vessel. Whose? Why? Panic filled her and she reached out.

  ***

  Help me.

  The words, not his own, sat Nate upright on the futon, eyes opened wide as he instinctively reached for his weapon, long discarded somewhere in the trailer.

  Save me.

  Cold sweat broke out across his chest and beaded on his forehead as panic filled him.

  How? he asked, unable to believe that he was somehow communicating with Maeve.

  Was he still dreaming? Awake?

  Please, take me home.

  The line blurred into reality as he came to alert consciousness and the dream faded.

  Nate raced across the trailer to Maeve’s lifeless body. No sign of awareness emanated from her. She laid as still as death and just as silent.

  Nate took her hand in his and sat beside her on the bed. She needed another IV. Her body was greedily soaking up the nutrients and eagerly drawing Nate’s energy from his own body at their slight contact. He couldn’t heal what afflicted her. Not even her body. His own light was still too depleted. The hour or so of fitful sleep he’d just experienced wasn’t enough to rejuvenate himself, let alone another.

  He’d dreamed of her, whole and beautiful, restored. But the dream had been cluttered and jumbled. He wasn’t clear what had been dream and what had been memory.

  Her memory.

  But of course, that was impossible.

  Wasn’t it?

  Chapter Eight

  “Nate!” Deacon pounded on the side of the trailer. “Open up. Bo won’t let me in.”

  Nate sprang to his feet. He’d somehow managed to doze off again, lying beside Maeve on the bed. How long had he been out? The slight lightness inside his trailer suggested he’d been out much longer than he’d anticipated.

  His heart raced with the sudden disruption and he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing his clothes as he crossed to the door. He pushed it open with resistance as Bo continued his duties as sentry, but then the great beast rose with a resigned sigh and moved out of the way.

  “What?”

  “How is she? Any change?”

  “No.”

  “We need to talk.”

  Nate backed away from the door and let Deacon inside.

  Deacon swept his eyes around the trailer and landed on Maeve in all of three seconds. There was no hiding anything in a thirty-foot trailer. He eyed the IV solution.

  “Nutrition?”

  “Yes.”

  “You got one of those for yourself?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Deacon’s internal struggle was visible on his face as he pondered this next statement, arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted to the side.

  “Nate. We’ll talk to Rashnu together. Maybe there’s a way to store her soul in an external source since her body is still alive. But you can’t continue on this way. You’ll grow weaker and weaker with her soul inside you. I liked Maeve. A lot. But this situation is untenable.”

  Nate’s anger began to percolate.

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Kylen was right, Nate. About her not wanting to live this way. In a vegetative state? You’re the medical guy. You know what that means. The lights are on, but no one is home.”

  “Her condition could change.”

  “Yeah, it could get worse. Much worse. And so will yours.”

  Nate shook his head. Medically, he understood the words, emotionally they didn’t compute. He had Maeve’s essence inside of him and as long as that was the case, there was hope. She was not lost like the others.

  “I won’t let her go. Not yet.”

  “Then at least come to see Rashnu with me.”

  “I’m not leaving her. Not like this. And I’m not going to risk the possibility that Rashnu will take her from me.”

  Deacon blew out a sigh and hung his head. “That’s what I figured you’d say.”

  “Can you heal her body? Give her energy at least?”

  “Not directly. She wasn’t kidding about her light being poison. How you managed to survive it, I have no idea, but her brother died as a direct result of her attempts to heal him. I contacted her family, what’s left of it anyway—a cousin—after your incident with her. We were very lucky.”

  Nate’s heart stuttered in his chest. “You know where her family is?”

  “He was the only member left in the States. I guess after what happened with her brother, she fell off the planet for a while, then reappeared to finish her training. She hadn’t been in contact with any of them in a long time.”

  Take me home.

  “So if she wanted to go home, where would she want to go if not there?”

  “Has she spoken to you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Deacon gave him a stern look, obviously interested in hearing more, but Nate refused to fill him in on the details.

  “It would seem to me if a reaper wanted to go home, he or she most likely wanted to pass over.”

 
; “You mean die?” Nate tried to keep the horrified look off his face, but felt he was failing as blood rushed to fill his ears with a sound like the pulsing ocean.

  “Yes, Nate.”

  Refusing to consider that as an option, he reached up to adjust the IV setting.

  “The IV solution won’t be enough to sustain her, and if she doesn’t awaken coherent enough to eat actual food, she’ll continue to fail.

  “You’re the only one who can share Reiki with her, Nate. We can take turns recharging you and you can relay the energy, but…”

  “What?”

  “You’re going to discharge like a leaky battery. We can fill you up, but you’ll drain back down almost immediately with her soul inside you. And if you get physically injured or sick? Well…”

  “You might not be able to heal me at all.”

  “Yes.”

  Nate crossed to the bed and stared down at Maeve. She looked so peaceful, her face relaxed and calm. Nothing like her trademark fierce expression. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

  “Okay, then. We’ll take turns with you. Whoever pulls meal duty also pulls Nate recharging duty. Guess I might as well get you started.”

  Deacon walked over and faced Nate, placing his open palm against his chest. “At least we don’t have to worry about frying your circuits now.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You reaped your first soul, my friend. I guess you’re a reaper after all. Welcome to the club.”

  A sad smile crossed Deacon’s face and his hand began to glow a healing shade of green. He pushed the energy directly into Nate’s heart chakra and the warmth filled his body, radiating through him with a slow burn. Maeve’s soul agitated inside him, awakened from its repose. For a brief second, Nate feared that Deacon might have double crossed him and was trying to draw Maeve from him against his will.

  When he tensed with apprehension, Deacon withdrew his hand.

  “You good?” Deacon asked, backing away from him. “Did I hurt you?”

  Nate relaxed, Maeve’s soul stilling against the intrusion. “I’m fine. Thank you. For everything.” He followed him to the door.

  “Nothing has been settled here, Nate. We’re only delaying the inevitable.”

  “Thank you anyway.”

  “Okay, then.”

  Deacon took one last look at Maeve’s body and touched the door. Hesitating, he turned back to look at Nate. He seemed like he was about to say something, but then he shook his head, apparently thinking better of it, and opened the door. Bo bullied his way past Deacon, circling him to lie down at the foot of the bed.

  As Nate pulled the door shut behind his friend, Bo let out an exaggerated sigh. After that spare sound, the silence in the trailer was deafening. He was hopeful that he’d have a few hours of reprieve before the rest of the crew came calling.

  He wondered how long he’d be able to hold Maeve’s soul before it was too late to reinsoul her, or if that point had already arrived and he was just too blind to see it. It didn’t feel that way. He had faith that she could still be salvaged.

  At least he could do one thing—fill her body with his fresh energy. Then if he stayed here, by her side, he wouldn’t have to worry about losing her soul out in the field or wondering what was happening to her back home. Here, they would both be safe.

  Gliding his hand along her arm, he marveled at the pull of turquoise light from him. His body was a converter now, taking the energy of others to transform it into a life-sustaining transfusion for Maeve. His heart swelled at the idea that he was the only one who could give this gift to her. Surely that was more than sheer coincidence.

  She would have shrugged it off, but he knew better. He could feel in his very soul how right their connection was. Maeve’s body drew in his light like a sponge did water and her pallor improved drastically. Way too soon, he watched the brilliant turquoise dim to a pale sky blue and he withdrew.

  Exhausted by the effort, he lay down beside her once again and waited.

  Waited for her body to heal. Waited for some means to return her soul. And waited for a chance to prove to her that home didn’t have to mean death.

  Chapter Nine

  Days passed and Maeve remained in her comatose state with no sign of improvement. Nate scratched at his new growth of beard, already itchy and thick. He’d left the four walls of his trailer once, at Deacon’s insistence, to join the others in the compound for dinner. Otherwise, he’d stood constant watch over Maeve.

  There had been no sightings of Camael at the compound or in Meridian since his expulsion from Maeve. While the demons continued to keep busy, their master was curiously absent.

  Nate couldn’t disguise the fact he was weary. Weary from the constant refilling and discharging of energy and the parade of dreams, his as well as Maeve’s, that played continuously every time he fell asleep.

  He was on the verge of depletion himself and with the incessant stream of well-meaning visitors, he was close to snapping. Everyone was concerned about Maeve, as could be expected, but they’d all started to look at him with the sad expressions of pity he could barely tolerate. They knew what he still refused to admit.

  He was on a death watch.

  Pouring energy into her was like pouring water through a sieve. Olivia had come in one day to give Maeve a sponge bath, dressing her in one of her own nightgowns, which had somehow visibly diminished her even further. Nate could see Maeve’s ribs pushing up against the thin fabric.

  Despite his best efforts, she was declining. His own body wasn’t faring much better. He’d taken to tucking in his shirt to keep his jeans from sliding down his hips. They were a pitiful pair.

  Efforts to contact Maeve’s remaining cousin had failed, but Deacon had managed to get word through to her parents. They had long since ascended into the Heavenly realms, though, and were unable to return to Earth. The way things were going, Maeve would soon be joining to them.

  True to his word, Deacon had arranged for the reapers to visit Nate and keep him charged, but each replenishment filled him a little bit less, like he was an overused battery. He feared that any day now they would all burst in for a reaper intervention and take her from him…body and soul.

  With the lack of restful and restorative sleep, he was beginning to lose touch with reality. He wondered if he had the strength to do what was needed. One person might be able to help him. Give him the answers he required. The question was…would he?

  A knock at his door snapped him out of his maudlin reverie.

  “Nate? I’m coming in.” Deacon pulled open the door and walked in.

  Bo lifted his head with mild interest, and then resumed his passive protection at the foot of the bed.

  “You look like hell.”

  Nate didn’t bother responding. The bastard was right of course—about everything—but he wasn’t going to let him know it. Guy code and all of that bullshit.

  “What are we going to do here, Nate? You have to make a decision, or it’s going to be made for you. You’re dead on your feet. We won’t lose you both.”

  The choice was an impossible one.

  For him to continue, he’d have to let her go, but how was he supposed to do that? She was a part of him now. Deacon might as well ask him to amputate his leg.

  Kylen had already given him the bullshit speech about honor amongst reapers. Well, if that “honor” had been honored by Deacon, Kylen’s possessed ass would have been dead a long time ago and he wouldn’t be spending his off time wrapped around Olivia, rockin’ that damned trailer like a pontoon boat in a hurricane.

  The longer Deacon stared at him, the more agitated he became.

  Maeve’s soul brushed through him like a chill, sensing his agitation. If Deacon turned on his power and tried to draw her forth, steel would be the only weapon that could stop him. They both knew it.

  Nate didn’t want to fight the guy, but if it came to blows or worse, so be it. He would defend what was his.

  And Maeve…
was his.

  Deacon took a step forward and his hands began to glow.

  A gasp from the bedroom broke his concentration and demanded their attention. Nate turned to see Maeve’s body convulsing on the bed.

  “Shit.” Nate raced to her side and attempted to restrain her as her body heaved from the bed. As soon as he made contact, her thirsty shell began to pull the weak charge of energy from him, taking what it needed and filling her with light.

  The IV ripped from her arm and a stream of blood trickled from the puncture wound.

  “I’ve got her. Take care of her arm.” Deacon pressed her writhing body into the mattress, holding her in place.

  The second Nate withdrew from her, she stopped fighting and they both watched the light fade from her once more. This time, she stopped breathing.

  Nate pressed two fingers against her throat, searching for a pulse. Nothing. Not even a spark flickered between them.

  “Start compressions,” Nate ordered, sliding his hand under her neck and tilting her head back for rescue breathing.

  Deacon complied and began rapid chest compressions as Nate breathed. The trailer rocked with their efforts, but Maeve’s body remained still and unanimated. After several long minutes, Deacon stopped and stepped back from the bed.

  “What are you doing? You can’t stop!”

  “It’s over, Nate. Her spark is gone.”

  “No, it’s not. Go get the AED! It’s worked before. Go!”

  “No, Nate.”

  Nate felt the energy swirl inside him like liquid fire. Maeve’s soul fluttered against his walls like a butterfly in a glass jar. Flames of rage kindled inside of him.

  This is not happening.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  Nate felt his aura ignite before it manifested. Like a match to kerosene, it engulfed him. He drew in a deep inhale, then bent to Maeve’s mouth once more to resume rescue breathing. Exhaling into her, he forced all the energy he had into her, willing it to fill her, restore her, save her.