by Lisa Medley
She stepped inside the shower. The hot water flowing over her elicited unexpected tears as relief coursed through her, releasing some of the stress that filled her like venom. But it was impossible to let go of the impending doom lurking just below the surface of her conscious mind. The tears at least rounded off the edges.
What was it! Something so important.
She grabbed the bar of soap and went to work, rubbing and scrubbing until her skin was raw and red from the effort. Would she ever be clean again? She pushed her shaking hands flat against the acrylic shower enclosure, letting the water course over her back, steadying herself as she pinned images to the bulletin board of her mind long enough for a cursory examination before they flitted away again.
No, none of them were the right ones.
And some of them—she was positive—weren’t hers at all.
Death. So much death.
She was a reaper, after all, and death was her business and calling. That much she knew. She was a collector of souls and her job was to ferry the souls to their final destination, but not hasten their detachment prematurely. The images that flashed before her now were scenes in which she’d done exactly that.
Murder.
Frustrated, she leaned her head back into the stream, willing the water to wash away the assault of images, and worked Nate’s woodsy scented shampoo and conditioner into her hair. She worked through the long and tangled strands, pulling handful after handful of snarls free from her head in the process. At this rate, she’d be bald when she got out.
Satisfied, Maeve shut off the water, immediately missing its soothing warmth. Wringing the water from her hair with her hands, she stepped from the shower only to realize she hadn’t thought ahead to retrieve a towel. With a sigh, she searched through the one small bathroom cabinet, but found nothing except deodorant, mouthwash and bottles of hair product, which amused her. Wasn’t this Nate’s trailer? Did he have a roommate? If not, he was the highest hair maintenance male she’d ever encountered.
Or so she thought. Her mental file cabinet was disheveled after all.
Revived, Maeve turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping out of the small bathroom.
Nate stood, mouth agape, in front of her.
Chapter Twelve
Nate’s eyes blinked in time with his heartbeat. Rapidly. Paralyzed while his brain tried to process the sight of the wet and glistening body before him, he did the one thing any red-blooded male would do. He looked.
Holy shit.
Her green eyes flared and he broke out of his stupor, finally putting two and two together.
“Towel?” he asked.
An icy glare was his answer, which almost excited him more than seeing her in all her naked glory. That glare meant she was on her way back.
To him.
Good God, obviously an overload of naked female had short-circuited his brain. She wasn’t his. She was his partner. Nothing more.
A fact he wasn’t even sure she knew.
With effort, he averted his eyes as she made a slow puddle on his floor, water dripping from the ends of her hair and her elbows. Shuffling through the cabinet outside the door, he handed her a towel, willing himself to walk away from her.
“Thank you.”
Her voice startled him and he spun around to catch her tuck the corner of the wrapped towel between her breasts. Breasts he’d seen bare mere seconds ago. His brain was going all kinds of junior high.
Nate cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”
They locked gazes for several seconds before she raised her eyebrows at him quizzically.
“Sorry.” Flustered, he looked behind her at the pile of discarded clothes. “I just need to get my weapons. We’re heading into Meridian.”
He searched her face for recognition, trying to tease out answers to unasked questions.
“You need to stay here. In the trailer. I’ll have Olivia bring some clean clothes for you. She has a feast coming your way, too.” He smiled at her, hoping it came off more sincere than the goofball grin he feared was spreading across his maw. “We’ll talk when I get back.”
Retrieving his short sword and blades, he snuck an awkward glance at her as she remained rooted in place, watching him.
“You’re safe here.” The sigils on his arms flared as he walked out the door, reassuring him that she couldn’t wander too far.
***
Ruth was dying to get out to that trailer. Olivia had filled her in on Maeve’s current state and while she was relieved Maeve was back home, it was clear she wouldn’t be out in the field again any time soon.
Temperance, the guardian angel sent to watch over Ruth’s unborn child, scowled at her from across the room. Some days, Ruth could swear the angel could read her mind! She’d been confined to bed rest for all but the first six weeks of her pregnancy, and it was wearing on her in ways no one else in the compound could understand. The worst part was she still had four and a half months to go.
Ironically, Ruth had spent most of her life in self-imposed isolation, living in fear of her gift: the ability to see auras. When she met her first reaper, Deacon, her life had tumbled right past the land of Weird and settled firmly into the land of What The Hell. She’d enjoyed gainful employment in her newly discovered profession as a reaper for all of few months before everything went screwy. Choosing to exile herself was one thing. Being exiled was something altogether different. If Maeve was feeling even an ounce of that frustration, Ruth had sympathy.
She was only allowed occasional visits to the commons area. After she nearly lost the baby early on in the pregnancy, the entire Authority had conspired to keep her in her place. While she knew it was for her own good—and the baby’s—it was growing more and more intolerable.
If not for the fast satellite internet installation Nate had orchestrated on her behalf, she would have been stark-raving mad by now. Deacon was so busy with all of his new duties that it seemed like she only saw him for a few minutes each day. Olivia, bless her heart, spent hours entertaining her and catering to her every whim. Temperance, on the other hand, was about as entertaining as a Roman statue.
She only came to life when Ruth wiggled toward the edge of the bed. It seemed like all Ruth needed to do was even think about moving to set her angel into action. Temperance’s short, red hair stood at attention in all directions around her head. Ruth would have called it a pixie cut except she was pretty sure the angel had hacked it off with scissors or a blade herself. “Cut” was a little too lavish a description. “Shredded” was more apt.
The arches of the angel’s neatly folded wings peeked above her shoulders. Deacon had told her that when completely relaxed, an angel’s wings could be fully retracted, visible only as a feathered shadow beneath her skin, like a tattoo but smooth to the touch.
Temperance was never relaxed.
The bad news was that her wings had stood at attention from day one. The good news was that Ruth had yet to see them fully extended, a sign of either force or dominance. Since Nate had reinforced the compound with magic, their boundaries hadn’t even been tested and God knew Ruth hadn’t stepped foot outside the commons area, let alone the grounds.
She clicked her mouse button extra loudly for the sole purpose of annoying Temperance as she searched yet another genealogy website on her laptop. Since she was a prisoner, she had decided to use her time doing what she’d been trained for. With a PhD in Information Technology, she was a research maven, but the one piece of information she wanted the most still eluded her.
Ruth had spent the past several months searching for her birth parents. The traits required to become a reaper were genetic and at least one parent needed to carry the genes in order for them to develop in a useful way in the child. Ruth had no idea from whom she might have inherited the gift until she stumbled across a clue just before her house and the binder full of answers was torched.
She’d read the file. Once. But at least the name was etched into her memory.
That was her one lead. She’d exhausted hundreds of ancestry sites from her prison bed and made dozens of unfruitful inquiries, even a few international calls.
There were many, many Elaina Carters in the world, but none had intrigued her enough to send Deacon on a visit to scope things out. There was a soccer mom in Rhode Island, a massage therapist in Detroit, a chiropractor from Amarillo and seventeen others in the US who had died within her lifetime. Each, by all accounts, was completely unremarkable as far as potential reaper attributes went. Deacon had been able to determine none of the deceased were eligible candidates. Thanks to his promotion to Powers he could travel freely between the realms at will. None of the sorted souls had been reapers.
Unfortunately, most of his time had to be spent tracking down demons and a fallen angel instead of Ruth’s potential birth mothers. Still, she had whittled down the list of eligible candidates. There were several hundred left for her to sort through.
The idea that the name on the paperwork could have been false was not one she allowed herself to consider. Her adoptive father had died when she was very young and her adoptive mother within the past year. Deacon had actually reaped her mother’s soul, which was what had begun the chain of events leading to her current state of affairs.
While her mother was alive, Ruth hadn’t wanted to add stress to their estranged relationship by searching for her biological mom. At this point, she was questioning the merit of that decision. Even with her superb research skills, tenacious work ethic and copious amounts of time, she didn’t feel very hopeful for a breakthrough.
With the baby on the way, however, it seemed all the more important for her to pin down her lineage. If there was an Elaina Carter out there with her DNA coursing through her body, Ruth was determined to find her.
Temperance cocked her head to alert status and cut her eyes to the door moments before Olivia walked in unannounced. She was like an angel ADT that girl.
“Hey, the guys are gone. Wanna break out?” Olivia asked.
Ruth grinned, scooted her computer off her lap and started to swing her legs off the bed, but Temperance was on her like white on rice.
“Temperance, I haven’t been out of bed except to pee all day. Hell, you can carry me if it will make you feel better.” Ruth hated being carried unless it was to bed and by Deacon. Still, if it helped her to achieve her goal, what was a little humiliation between friends?
Motionless, the angel actually seemed to consider it for a moment. Maybe she was wearing down just as much as Ruth. God knew misery loved company. Instead, Temperance shook her head no.
“Can Maeve come here?”
“Not yet, she’s butt naked. She managed to shower and clean up.” Olivia held out the armload of clothes she carried. “I’m taking over a few things. I’ll see how she is. She was pretty out of it earlier. Maybe the shower helped her feel human again.”
Ruth giggled. “Not sure that would be an improvement for her. Being a reaper and all.”
“True enough. I’ll be back. Hopefully, with Maeve in tow.” Olivia spared Temperance a glare before she walked off.
The angel was making no friends with her silent but deadly act. So much for girl power. Solidarity. There was no give to that girl at all.
Ruth watched Olivia leave and then threw her head back against the pile of pillows that was propping her up.
Four and a half more months.
Something had to give.
Chapter Thirteen
Nate was on a roll. After Zak’s refueling, he felt amazing. Despite his distracted mind, he helped track and terminate a dozen demons himself. Camael, as expected, was on hiatus. He hoped the bastard was so distraught over having lost Maeve that he’d crawl back into his hellhole and die.
The odds were not in his favor.
Bo lapped at a pool of blood oozing from one of the hosts, sniffing excitedly in hopes of picking some bones clean.
“Not yet, buddy. I called in reinforcements.”
He’d damaged the hosts enough to render them immobile, but he didn’t want the demons bailing before they could be properly contained. All of the members of the Authority, except Nate, of course, could vacuum the bastards up and dispose of them permanently.
Inappropriate as the moment was, all he could think about was Maeve’s naked body. She was fantastic. Even broken and bruised, he was ashamed to admit, he was more than attracted to her. He wanted her. All of her.
He scrubbed his hand down his face, trying to erase any evidence of his deviant thoughts. What he didn’t need was a reaper intervention, good or bad, on his behalf. He’d work his shit out himself, but not until Maeve’s feet were firmly planted in reality again and she was well.
God, how long was that going to take? His cock twitched.
Betraying piece of shit.
He was an honorable guy. Practically a damned Boy Scout, but it had been more than eleven months since he’d been with a woman. His virgin card had probably been reset.
After the epic blow up of his last relationship, he’d sworn off anything serious. It was hard enough dating on his erratic EMT schedule, so when he hooked up with Sarah, another EMT, it seemed like a match made in Heaven. She wasn’t bothered by his hours, but it wasn’t long before she wanted to settle down, move in and take over.
Of course, she hadn’t known about his Wiccan connections. It wasn’t something he advertised and it had never come up in conversation. Like it would. This was the freakin’ Bible belt. They didn’t suffer witches. Meth heads, sure, but not witches.
Like his politics, he kept his religion to himself. Of course, Wicca was more than a religion. It was a lifestyle and a way of being with the natural world. To Nate, religion and Wicca were a combo deal. Mostly he considered himself a Christian witch and nothing made jaws drop around a work lunch table faster than a mention of that. The next thing that happened was that eyes glazed over and folks suddenly had somewhere else to be.
Whatever. He’d made that mistake once. A long time ago. And he’d learned to keep his personal shit to himself. Being involved with the reapers both confirmed his beliefs and filled him with a whole host of new questions.
As soon as these demons were processed, he’d finally be able to ask some of them.…
“Nice work.” Samkiel walked toward him, a Cheshire grin across his face.
“Somebody had to pick up your slack.”
“Touchy for a guy who just got his girl back.”
“She’s not my girl. She’s my partner. Speaking of which, where’s yours? Ragu out getting his beauty sleep somewhere?”
Samkiel clasped his hands together and let the energy build in preparation to vacuum the demons and souls as he counted the number of bodies thrashing on the floor of the warehouse.
“Twelve. Not bad. One more and you would have had a baker’s dozen. Ragu had fifteen.”
Nate didn’t bother to reply. You just couldn’t out smartass Samkiel.
“Ready?” He drew his short sword and went to work separating heads from bodies.
The demons streamed out in dark gray plumes.
An orange glow emanated from Samkiel and engulfed the bodies, drawing forth first the demons, and then the poached souls the bastards had stolen. Samkiel absorbed them into his body and immediately began to fade, bringing the motley bunch to Purgatory.
Samkiel nodded as he dissipated. “See ya on the other side.”
Bloody hell, did everyone know his business now?
Nate concentrated on his destination. It was a bit after 4:00 a.m. He prayed that by sunrise, he would have at least some answers for and about Maeve.
He felt the tug of the consecrated subway as he flashed to Purgatory.
***
Maeve maneuvered around the tiny bathroom and pulled the jeans and T-shirt over the underwear Olivia had brought for her. Even buttoned, the size-six waistband gaped on her. Olivia had assured her they were in fact her own clothes, retrieved f
rom her sparse apartment by Nate and stored after her abduction. They didn’t even look familiar. Regardless, she was thankful for them, especially if she was going have to share quarters with Nate, who was apparently rendered mute by nudity.
She’d spent most of the day curled in a ball on the bed, drifting in and out of sleep. Her dreams had been filled with nonsense, but at least a few gears had clicked into place. The food had helped a lot. She had eaten everything Olivia brought her, which had seemed to be a never-ending supply.
It wasn’t enough. While she felt stronger, she was far from herself and her head was killing her.
So many of her memories still evaded her, but at least she no longer feared for her sanity. The best part was she was completely alone inside her head and body. A luxury she’d never fully appreciated until today. Fear still smoldered in her heart and a knowledge that she couldn’t explain or qualify seethed inside her.
Something terrible was about to happen.
Olivia, who wanted her to go to Ruth’s trailer for some girl time, was waiting outside the bathroom door. Maeve was restless to get out of the trailer, but she didn’t feel up to the third degree.
Maeve was confused about a lot of things, but she was rock-solid sure that she never had nor ever would have “girl time” of her own volition. Maybe she could feign a renewed bout of weakness and avoid the whole thing. Of course, then they’d tell the rest of the reapers when they got back and, worse yet, Nate seemed like a mother hen. She’d never have a moment’s peace. She longed for the good old days when all the reapers she knew…reaped. The rules had been simple then. No one got possessed and everyone got exactly what they deserved. Rashnu, the Purgatory sorting angel, saw to that.
This demon chasing business was bullshit.
She hung her head in defeat.
Like a bandage. Rip it off.
Maeve knew she was screwed when she walked out of the bathroom and Olivia’s face twisted into a smile. That girl was not going to take no for an answer.