Reap & Reveal (The Reaper Series Book 3)

by Lisa Medley

  It was all there.

  And she knew how to defeat Camael.

  If only she could hold onto it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Nate broke the kiss and watched Maeve collect herself. He stroked her cheek, waiting for a sign that she was back with him. No images had appeared to him this time. It was at once a relief and a disappointment. He could feel her dependency on him lessening already.

  How long before she didn’t need him at all?

  Pushing the thought away, he waited. After several long moments, she opened her eyes, still radiant with their combined turquoise light. He could see the new confidence in her expression.

  “I know how to defeat Camael.”

  “What?”

  “Whatever you did just then…rewrote my scrambled code. I don’t know how or why it happened, but you helped me remember. Everything.”

  Nate stroked his hand along her arm. “Tell me.”

  “He can be killed—permanently—if he’s beheaded in his true form, which he can only manifest in Hell, or if his soul is captured on Earth while it’s unhosted.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Camael had no intention of me surviving our time together. He didn’t shield from me at all. Three months is a long time to spend in someone’s head. We need to get back and put a stop to his plans.”

  Nate recognized the implications of her revelation.

  “Yes.” He palmed the side of her face and traced his thumb across her cheekbone. “You are amazing.”

  Her lips thinned and a crease formed between her eyebrows. “These drawings, Nate. They’re of what’s to come, aren’t they?”

  Nate studied the wall where they hung. “No. Not all of them.”

  “How do you know that? I think they show us how this disaster ends. We just have to get them in the right order.”

  “I know the order…well, if Rashnu can be trusted.”

  “He told you?”

  “More like he showed me.” Nate pointed to the divided rows of drawings he’d rearranged. “There are two possible paths.”

  “And this one?” Maeve pointed to the drawing of the headless woman who resembled her.

  “Not going to happen.”

  ***

  When Nate and Maeve walked into the kitchen, Rosemary was already stacking pancakes onto a plate while Garrett sat at the table reading the Meridian newspaper. The headline above the fold caught his eye: Demons Devastate Downtown Drinking Hole.

  He didn’t even need to read the story to recognize the photo of the bar where he’d saved Maeve. This wasn’t the National Enquirer Garrett was reading. It was the Meridian Messenger. It was a miracle that the invasion had taken this long to make the papers. The bold headline would turn most serious news patrons off, but still…even the most sensational stories often held nuggets of truth. He wondered how much the public would parse. If news stories like this didn’t give the good folks of Meridian nightmares, nothing would.

  Speaking of nightmares, though he hadn’t admitted as much, Nate had been plagued by nightmares similar to Maeve’s. Rashnu’s two paths seemed more inescapable than ever. He didn’t believe in a predestined future—not as long as free will was in play—but he also couldn’t explain how he’d foreseen the images that were now haunting him nearly a decade later. The more he denied his fate, the stronger it seemed to persist. He prayed he was on the correct path.

  With Yule behind him, he wondered if they’d all now make it through Christmas, let alone the coming year. The soot dreams only reinforced what Rashnu had already shown him. Time was short, and urgency beat at him. If refueling weren’t absolutely necessary, they would have already flashed.

  “Good morning, you two.” Garrett gave Nate a knowing look, and Nate couldn’t help but give him a foolish smile in return.

  “Maeve, you look so much better. You’re practically glowing.” Rosemary set a plate of pancakes in front of her, a full stack of six, and Maeve’s eyes grew large. “Don’t worry, I’ll make more if you want them.”

  Maeve laughed and reached for the syrup, pouring it over the cakes until it threatened to overflow the high lip of the curved plate.

  “We don’t have much time, Mom. We need to get back.”

  “Already?” Rosemary asked.

  Nate’s stack was equally impressive and for a few moments he could almost imagine he was a regular guy, bringing his girl home to meet the parents. Did he even want that anymore? To be normal?

  He’d spent his entire life as an outsider, but his unusual gifts had finally paid off. Maeve was alive and at his side precisely because he was not normal. Had he been 100 percent human, she would be dead and her soul would have been sorted, just like Kylen’s Kara. Then where would he be?

  Lost.

  He squeezed her free hand in clear sight of his parents. He wasn’t going to waste any more time pretending to be something he wasn’t. Despite everything that awaited them outside the coven’s circle of protection, what he was at this very moment was…happy.

  Sometimes a few minutes of happiness were all a guy could hope for.

  Rosemary sat at the table as the rest of them enjoyed their breakfasts. She smoothed her hands back and forth across the empty place setting in front of her and cleared her throat. Something about the sound told Nate that his world was about to fall apart.

  “Nate, there’s something we need to tell you before you go.” Rosemary cast an apologetic smile toward Maeve.

  Her words hung in the air and Nate steeled himself for the blow. Whatever Rosemary and Garrett were talking about the other night was about to come to light. Dread crept through him and a sheen of sweat slid across his body, almost as if he already knew the words that were coming.

  Maybe part of him had always known the words that were coming.

  “It’s about your mother. Your biological mother, Nate. She’s still alive.”

  Nate stopped breathing. Was it possible? He’d never looked for her. Of course, he’d always wondered, but something inside him had whispered that he wouldn’t like what he would find.

  “Where is she?”

  Maeve stopped eating and placed her fork on the plate, half of her pancakes already gone.

  “She’s here. On the coven grounds. We’ve been caring for her and protecting her.”

  The questions erupted in his head like a volcano and molten fury spread throughout his body until Maeve squeezed his hand and a soft exchange of turquoise energy passed between them. He wondered if Rosemary and Garrett, as attuned to the spiritual world as they were, could see his aura leaking out in mustard waves.

  “Protecting her from what?”

  “Your father.”

  That was it. His brain incinerated and he closed his eyes, trying to sort through all his emotions. His mother had been close by all this time? She’d allowed him to suffer through foster home after foster home until he’d finally ended up here? Near her, but not knowing her? And these people—his parents, for God’s sake—had kept it from him?

  Betrayal ate a hole into his gut like a canker sore. He felt his face growing hot and red and his hands formed fists, crushing Maeve’s. She didn’t pull back. She held on. God bless her, but she held onto him as he tried to process what his mother was saying.

  “Please explain.”

  “Your father was an angel.”

  And there it was again. Angels. Nephilim. He hadn’t wanted to believe Rashnu, but the evidence was beginning to pile up.

  “What? Wait, backup. If this is true, then why are you telling me this? Take me to my birth mother. I want to hear it from her.”

  Rosemary looked at Garrett, but he shook his head. “I’ll take you to her,” Rosemary said, “but you’ll still have to get your answers from us.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because she doesn’t have a soul.”

  And this shit just kept getting better.

  Rising from the table, Nate paced the room, trying to put yet another pu
zzle piece into place. For once, it would be nice to see the whole design without any holes.

  “How long has she been here?”

  “Twenty-seven years.”

  “Since I was born? Was I born on coven grounds?”

  “Nearby.”

  It took a great effort for Nate not to yell at his mother.

  “Let me get this straight. You know where I was born, where my mother still exists. Yet, I was given away to strangers time and again before being adopted back into the coven. Does that sound about right?”

  Rosemary worried her wedding ring around her finger. “Yes. That’s true. You—and your twin sister—were given away.”

  Nate blinked.

  Sister? Oh, hell no.

  He gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to compose himself. Staring out the kitchen window at the frosted landscape, he wondered how things could have gone so wrong so quickly.

  “And where is my sister?”

  “She was also adopted. Nate, we gave you away because we had to. To protect you and give you a normal life. We were forced to separate you from your mother because she couldn’t care for you. Your sister was adopted first, but we requested that you wouldn’t be adopted together. Together, there was the risk that you might draw the attention of…dangerous entities.”

  “My father?”

  “Yes, among others.”

  Garrett shifted in his chair and Nate turned to look him. “Nate, this was a Coven Board decision that was made to protect us all. Your mother—Rosemary—did everything in her power and beyond, including black magic, to heal your biological mother. Physically she has survived, but mentally, spiritually, psychologically—in every way that matters she is gone.”

  Rosemary continued. “We followed you both into the foster system and kept tabs on you over the years. When you began to have repeated problems and bounce from family to family, we knew we had to step in. We didn’t want your…talents to be manipulated in the wrong way. Your Wiccan knowledge, your sigils, the coven’s circle of protection all helped to mask your inherent gifts once they manifested. But then you grew up and moved away to your own life. We hoped…We prayed you would be safe. Yet, the darkness we sought to save you from has found you all the same.”

  “And my sister?”

  “We kept track of her. Nothing unusual manifested in her childhood as far as we could tell, and we allowed her to live her life. It’s only recently that we’ve lost track of her. The less contact she had with us the better. For both sides.”

  “Take me to my mother.”

  “We can do that, but you should know she hasn’t aged. She looks the same as she did the day she arrived. The day you arrived.”

  Fresh anxiety filled Nate. “Is she a reaper?”

  “From what you’ve told me—” Rosemary squeezed Garrett’s hand. “—we think she might be.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ruth was at wit’s end. Exhausted from too little activity and too much sleep, she could not escape the worrisome feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. While the baby and her pregnancy seemed fine, some hunch told her that the other shoe was just waiting to drop. Bocephus, who was whining softly in his sleep at the side of her bed, seemed to feel the same way. That dog missed Nate something terrible. And right now? The big galoot seemed to be in some sort of physical pain, rising, circling and readjusting before lying back down again, trying to find a comfortable position.

  She could relate. Deacon and the other members of the Authority had been home sporadically for meals since Nate and Maeve left, but most of her days and nights had been spent alone. Temperance’s company didn’t count. Olivia wasn’t even around all that much, spending more and more time at the food shelter she’d set up downtown. They’d all been catching rest where they could and making real progress on the demon cleanup while Camael continued to hide beneath the radar.

  They were “making hay while the sun shined,” as Raguel had said earlier. He’d cast aside his southern Italian colloquialisms and adopted the local sayings way too quickly. But given how charming he was, it was pure entertainment for the rest of them.

  Man, she’d give anything to be off reservation for a few hours, but with Temperance holding up the east wall of the trailer, an escape seemed very unlikely. She was still plotting her imagined departure when Deacon appeared at the foot of her bed, startling a scream from her.

  Temperance sprang to action, her wings spreading and filling the room, followed by a bright shimmering red iridescent cloud that made it impossible to focus on what was happening. The glint of a sword stopped Ruth’s heart for one long terrifying moment before recognition kicked in.

  “Shit!” Ruth skittered off the bed.

  Deacon had pulled out his scythe as soon as he recognized Temperance’s intent to attack, and the two of them filled the small room with menace. Bo growled, low and threateningly, his head touching Ruth’s shoulder as he stood his ground, protecting her. The angel shot a look of disdain at Deacon and folded her wings back until all that showed were the two top arches, mere millimeters below her ears. She leaned back against the wall, as nonchalant as was possible for the angel.

  “Maybe use the front door next time. Someone’s a little edgy,” Ruth said.

  “At least she’s on task, unlike I have been this afternoon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I checked out your lead for you,” he said with a smile.

  “And? Did you find her? Or…her house anyway?”

  “I found 337 Birch Street. It wasn’t her home. It was a cemetery, outside of Bolton.”

  “Oh.”

  “I also found an Elaina Carter, or at least her grave and headstone. She was twenty-nine the day she died.”

  “And when was that?”

  “Your birthday.”

  ***

  Camael finally settled on a host. It was time to stop lamenting things that couldn’t be changed and start getting back into the game at hand. His head seemed to be clearing and the latest reports from his demon minions were enough to snap him out of his sentimental reverie. The reapers had been busy, it seemed, and they were making a serious dent in his incursion. Without a leader, the demons were no more than a bothersome nuisance up top. Like the children they were, they needed constant guidance and supervision. On a bad day, he was a glorified babysitter, on a good day? Well, on a good day, he was Hell incarnate.

  Standing tall before his long dressing mirror, he admired the host form he’d settled on. This human was an outstanding physical specimen, heavily muscled and healthy, his tanned head slick and bald—a welcome change from Maeve’s high maintenance coif. The full-body tattoos extended along both arms and across his chest and back. Only his legs were free of markings. The ink boasted numerous symbols that were well known in Camael’s adopted neighborhood. The swastika gracing his pectoral muscle was one of his personal favorites. How many souls had fallen with that emblazoned upon their skin in the past century? It was inspiring what a little branded marketing could accomplish. It had gone from being a symbol of life, luck and strength for three thousand years to one of total domination and evil in fifty. Amazing.

  The true power of any symbol lay in the eye and heart of the beholder.

  His chosen host was a one-owner model. One who had foolishly summoned a demon. He was a human who desired to be possessed. A fact that had allowed Camael’s demons to lead him right up to the gates of Hell and walk him straight to Camael’s door, new and never previously possessed. If there were possession CARFAX, this one’s record would be clean as a whistle.

  Camael dismissed the attending demons. Enough of this nonsense. He stretched inside his new skin. Yes, this one would do for now. Maybe he would even last a week inside one so strong.

  And wouldn’t that be a miracle? It would give him just enough time to complete his mission.

  Just once, Camael wished Lucifer could experience the frustration of his limitations up top. Luc
ifer had been the first to fall and in his all-consuming wrath, God had bound him to Hell as a condition of his betrayal. Lucifer wouldn’t be able to leave until the last soul was freed from Hell, but he’d still retained all of his powers, not to mention his wings. It came in handy that the Big Guy hadn’t been clear on the condition the souls needed to be in when they were freed. A loophole Lucifer fully intended to exploit. The last souls would indeed be free of Hell very, very soon…just not in the form anyone had expected.

  Camael, on the other hand, had fallen in the last quarter century, countless millennia since Lucifer, and he’d slid into Hell, and out of reach of God’s wrath, in the nick of time. His punishment was the loss of his angel body outside of Hell, which—along with his traitorous heart—was what had caused the entire chain of events leading to his fall. So he’d been left to languish in Hell or ride a host, just like the demons. He’d spent the last quarter century reliving his last few days, hours and minutes on Earth.

  Having been alive for nearly as long as Lucifer, these past twenty-seven years—the blink of an eye in his life, really—had been by far the longest. He’d been in Hell in every sense of the word before finally pulling out of his stupor and beginning to plot his revenge.

  Opening the final portal for Lucifer would be a sweet victory. God had taken everything Camael loved from him. And now Camael could return the favor.

  There was one place Camael would visit again before heading back to Meridian to find the location for the final portal. His sacrifice wasn’t ready yet, but after some self-reflection over the past few days, he had come up with a new plan that he was confident would work.

  Even a half-baked plan was better than nothing, and after this latest setback, he was ready to accelerate things or die trying. He would experience one last indulgence before drawing out his prey and completing his mission.

  He flashed out of Hell and headed to Bolton.

  ***

  Nate followed Rosemary and Garrett back to the hub where the Yule fire had burned down to a still smoldering pile on the cold, late December morning. Crossing the hub, they continued in silence onto Mabon Street, moving past several Arts & Crafts style homes. Tension coiled in his gut as Rosemary came to a stop in front of a dusty blue home accented with white trim. A two-foot tall, gray, fieldstone fence lined the front and left side of the yard, broken only by the narrow driveway, which led to the attached carport. A wooden sign hung from the front door announcing, “The Witch Is In.”