Reap & Reveal (The Reaper Series Book 3)

by Lisa Medley

  Ruth tried to make out the names on the grave markers. While she knew her mother’s body wasn’t really here, she still wanted to see the grave. She wanted to reach down into the earth and check for herself. But Camael hadn’t brought her here to sightsee.

  “Come.” Camael walked toward the back of the cemetery, expecting her to follow. She was surprised when her feet began to do just that.

  What was she doing? She could flash now. Leave them all behind. The ground was still consecrated, but it was failing quickly. She could feel it. But what would be the consequences? Would the baby die? Would she?

  It was an impossible choice and one she wouldn’t make. Whatever happened to her would happen to them both. She would die protecting her if need be.

  Her?

  It.

  Her.

  Suddenly she knew she was carrying a girl. Maybe she would name her Elaina.

  Elaina Grace.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  Without realizing it, she’d stopped walking and Camael had turned to glare at her.

  Emboldened, she shared her news, hoping it would make him rethink his plan, whatever it was. “I’m carrying a girl. I’m going to name her Elaina Grace.”

  Camael staggered backward, nearly falling onto the headstones behind him. His reaction was baffling, but satisfying. Maybe he’d let her go and abandon his foolishness. There had to be some good inside him still. Wasn’t there? He had been an angel once.

  “Rashnu told you to say that.”

  Ruth narrowed her eyes. “No. I decided just now what I would name her. And I think you know why.”

  Camael hesitated and gave her a hard stare.

  “Let me go. Whatever you have planned, there’s still time to stop it. You could do better. You could be better. There’s still hope.”

  Camael closed his eyes and shook his head. “That hope is what will get each and every one of your pathetic reapers killed. The sooner the better.”

  He walked toward an eight-foot by eight-foot concrete crypt and pushed open the door. “Inside.”

  “It’s too cold in there. I’ll die.”

  “Yes, you will die. But not inside this crypt.” He reached over and yanked a former prisoner forward. “Take off your clothes and give them to the girl.”

  The man obeyed, undressing and handing her a stack of clothing. Mercifully, he left on his underwear. She’d seen all the naked men she cared to tonight. An eyeful of Rashnu would haunt her for the rest of her days. Days that seemed to be decreasing in number by the second.

  “Go.”

  Ruth’s heart hammered hard in her chest as she played several possible scenarios through her mind. He had to be confident that she wouldn’t risk flashing if he were planning to leave her here alone. Another wave of indecision flooded through her. She wanted to scream almost as badly as she wanted to scratch Camael’s eyes out. She thought to challenge him further, but feared his wrath. Clearly she had been wrong about the fallen angel, which made the thought that the monster could be their father all the more unbearable.

  If he could leave her here, pregnant and alone in a cold crypt, then there was no hope for him.

  There was no hope for any of them.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Camael wanted to be alone instead of face-to-face with a dozen of the worst humans he could possibly imagine in the graveyard where his wife had died. Or at least that’s how he thought of her. When he allowed himself to think of her.

  Despite Rashnu’s desperate talk, he knew a man, an angel or any creature, for that matter, would say or do anything under the right circumstances. Admit to anything. Divulge…anything.

  Ridiculous. He was just baiting me.

  He wouldn’t have dwelled on it any more if the whoring reaper hadn’t invoked her name. How did she even know it?

  Impossible.

  But now wasn’t the time for him to start second-guessing himself. He’d come way too far to do any soul searching and was hours away from achieving his final retribution. With the sacrifice on ice, so to speak, he could rally his troops and open the portal. And how wonderfully perfect that it would happen at the best possible time for a sacrilegious slap in the face of his enemy.

  Christmas Eve.

  The added irony of using a pregnant reaper to achieve his goal did not escape him. An innocent soul was required to hold the portal open. What could be more innocent than an unborn child?

  Originally, he’d thought he would have to wait for the sacrifice to actually be born, but in retrospect…why? Was it not fully formed already? Named in the book of life?

  For all intents and purposes, it counted. Killing its mother in the process was a bonus. As soon as he opened the portal and made the sacrifice, the other reapers would descend upon this place and the demons would darken the skies for a hundred mile radius as they fled from Hell until it was empty. Camael wasn’t a math genius, but with some quick calculations, he figured the total annihilation of mankind should take around seven days.

  Seven days to create.

  Seven days to recreate.

  With the desecration of the Earth complete, the bonds of Lucifer would be broken and he would be free as well.

  After that, Camael didn’t care what happened.

  He was an angel with nothing left to lose.

  While he’d originally intended to open the portal closer to the city, it really didn’t matter. Once the demons were free, they would cover the distance quickly. Bolton Cemetery was as good a place as any to open the portal. Besides, his sacrifice was secured on the location now. And the whole execution of his plan had a lovely symmetry to it.

  “Boss? Boss? Boss?” One of the pecker-gnat humans called to him.

  “What!” Camel snarled.

  “Um—erm—what now? You want us to drive you somewhere?”

  Again with the urge to smite…en masse.

  He searched the group, ignoring the idiot who’d questioned him. Spotting his charge, he smiled. “Little Stevie, please return the bus with our very helpful friends here back to Meridian. Then you are free to go and participate in the merriment. Live as though it’s your last day.”

  Little Steve didn’t ask any questions. He turned and mounted the bus steps, commandeered the driver’s seat and waited for the bus to fill with the other prisoners.

  Smart man. An anomaly for sure.

  Camael reveled in the silence filling the empty cemetery, interrupted only by the occasional hum of a car from the highway below and the wind through the trees. He walked to the edge of the cemetery one last time to visit Elaina’s grave. He would be back tomorrow night, but there’d be no time for reflection then.

  As it was, perhaps he’d allowed himself too much time for reflection.

  A strange glow on the far horizon caught his attention. Globe-like, it pulsed like the glimmering of a tremendous forest fire, yet it was more consistent and controlled.

  Almost like a circle of protection.

  Interesting.

  He flashed out of Bolton Cemetery to investigate before making his final preparations.

  ***

  Nate and Maeve landed with Rashnu and Bo within a block of Deacon. Flashing through the consecrated subway wasn’t an exact science even on a good day. This was far from a good day. When he hadn’t been able to reach Deacon by phone from the reaper compound, Nate had left a text message telling him that Ruth was gone, but he knew Deacon was probably engaged in a skirmish and wouldn’t get the communication anytime soon. This was the sort of bad news that was best delivered in person, but he’d been anxious to get through to his friend.

  The Authority reapers were traveling eastward according to the phone app, away from the prison. Raguel was still off the map.

  Rashnu was wide-eyed and full of wonder as he surveyed the street before them.

  “This isn’t your first trip topside, right?” Nate asked.

  “No. But it has been some time since I’ve been here in this form.” Rashnu walked
forward with purpose.

  “Where are you going?” Maeve asked, drawing her scythe as Nate drew his weapon.

  “Into battle.”

  Maeve looked at Nate as the angel walked away from them. “Do you think he knows what he’s doing up here?”

  “Do any of us?” Nate started forward.

  The street was empty of visible life, strange even for this late hour. Cars were parked along the commercial street in an orderly manner that suggested nothing untoward had happened, but when they passed a few bars, he noticed that though music blared into the night, no patrons remained, inside or out.

  Nate checked his phone. It was 12:03 a.m. Not even last call yet, but officially Christmas Eve.

  He wasn’t feeling all that festive. An occasional tightening in his gut had him worried. The last time he’d experienced a similar sensation was the night Ruth had nearly lost her baby.

  He kept that tidbit to himself as they closed the distance to Deacon.

  Bo followed at his side, more subdued than usual. Of course, Nate didn’t blame him. Being disemboweled had to put a damper on things. It was comforting to know he couldn’t be so easily dispatched, but Rashnu had been less than clear about what actually could kill the hellhound.

  Less than clear summed up every communication he’d ever had with the angel. Nate wondered what his physical and metaphysical limitations were outside of Purgatory. He had an idea he was about to find out firsthand.

  “Rashnu, I assume you have some sort of plan for finding Ruth? For helping us to clean up this mess?”

  “My plan is to return the soulless bodies of God’s children to Purgatory.”

  “And? Camael and his demons can do as they please, but it seems like you can’t be bothered to lift a hand? Why did you even crawl up from Purgatory then?”

  “Must you question everything?” Rashnu turned to face him. “Have you no faith in the power of good?”

  “All I know is that it appears as though the Authority reapers have been hung out to dry. Each disaster is worse than the last. Two dead reapers. Two others missing? You commission us—them—to do a job, then sit idly by and watch as we are beaten into failure when it’s obvious you could be doing more to help.”

  “And what would you have me do, nephilim? Your continued existence is evidence enough of the mercy of God. You and your sister could bring about an end to all that he has created. Or you could save it. Even so, he chose to allow you free will instead of destroying you as he once did all who went against him. Peace and love is what he desires for you and mankind, yet each of you continues to choose the most selfish path possible, making that future appear impossible. The pattern continues over and over and over.”

  “Do you have free will?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then use it and save the souls who have been lost tonight.”

  Rashnu sighed. “If only it were that easy. Every choice has its consequence. The souls that were stolen by demons this night are beyond even my help.”

  Maeve spoke up. “But isn’t there a chance they can be saved? Why else have we been taking the wanderers to the Purgatory holding area?”

  “Once the soul passes into Hell without its body to protect it, there’s no reinsouling. Period.”

  “They why did you keep all the wanderers we sent to you?” Maeve asked.

  “We didn’t. As soon as the location of their souls was determined, we destroyed their physical bodies. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. You know the drill.”

  “All of them?” Nate asked, appalled.

  “Then what about me? How was Nate able to save…me?”

  “Yes. All were destroyed. It was the only remaining option. Maeve’s soul was never brought to Hell. That was the only saving grace that made your act possible, Nate. That and your heritage.”

  “Because I’m nephilim.”

  “Yes.”

  “If you were able to determine the whereabouts of the wanderers’ souls, then tell me where my mother’s soul is, Rashnu.”

  The angels hesitated, visibly weighing his response. “There are some questions you may not want answered.”

  “Bullshit. Tell me and I’ll decide for myself. No more puzzles or half-truths. Where is she?” Nate advanced toward Rashnu, his anger building.

  “Her soul was ferried to Hell.”

  Nate’s stomach clenched, cold and hollow. He’d expected as much, but to hear it aloud was somehow worse. “So she’s dead then. Just like the rest of these poor bastards. No hope at all.”

  “Not exactly.”

  Nate closed the distance between him and the angel, and pushed him back and against the brick wall of an abandoned pub, a mustard colored aura seeping from him in waves.

  “For once. Say it clearly. What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?”

  The angel drew in a long, harsh breath then exhaled, looking as though he’d enjoy nothing more than to smite Nate into smoke. Nate wondered why it hadn’t already happened. Rashnu wasn’t known for his patience. “It means that her soul is in Hell, but it hasn’t been released. It’s still entrapped, and as of this moment, it has been untainted by Hell. Her soul is still pure.”

  Nate eased his grip and allowed the angel to collect himself. “Pure enough to be reinsouled?”

  Rashnu shook his head. “No. It’s been too long. Her body will have failed beyond healing after this long. If she even has a body any longer.”

  “So you don’t know where she is?”

  “Her soul? Yes, it is as I told you. We’ve known for years.”

  “Her body.”

  “We are in the business of tracking souls, not their shells. Do not build up false hope, Nate. Even with your unnatural skills, you won’t be able to reinsoul your mother.”

  “Maybe not, but her soul could be sorted to Heaven if it were recovered now?”

  Rashnu tugged at the hem of his shirt, straightening his rumpled clothing. “If that is its intended location…yes. In its current condition… it would be possible.”

  The first sounds of real conflict echoed down the alley from one street over. Bo barked and raced toward the action.

  “We’re not finished here, angel.”

  “I’ve no doubt.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Maeve’s head pounded as they reached the action on Starnes Street. Ouriel walked down the center of the street, exuding an orange aura that was ensnaring a group of shambling wanders in its metaphysical web, then vanished into Purgatory. Dead bodies littered the street and sirens wailed in the distance. The human officers were spread thin across the vast city as chaos reigned everywhere.

  Deacon followed behind him, vacuuming up demons as they streamed forth from the fallen bodies.

  Maeve’s head had been killing her since they left the Authority compound and now nausea began to roll up from her stomach, lodging in her throat and forming a hard lump there. The streetlights melted in her vision from crisp light to muted halos, and her hands tingled from her wrists to the tips of her fingers. She gripped her scythe tighter.

  She didn’t have time for this shit.

  She counted back the hours since she’d last eaten. Eighteen? Breakfast with Nate’s family?

  Had that really only happened yesterday morning?

  She continued forward, moving one foot in front of the other, but couldn’t concentrate on anything but the strange feeling in her body. Coming to a stop, she shut her eyes. A surge of energy coursed through her body and an aura began to manifest around her against her will. She could feel it begin, but was helpless to control its progress and inevitable release. White light exploded behind her eyelids and she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut.

  Fear charged inside her. She knew this feeling. The white light. The pain.

  This was the energy that had killed her brother.

  Terrified that she might not be able to contain it, she fell to her knees behind Nate, her scythe clattering to the pavement as she struggled to hold herself together and tam
p down the growing storm inside her.

  Something had triggered this reaction. Too bad she wasn’t sure what.

  Forcing her eyes opened, she watched in a pain-blurred haze as Samkiel continued to gather the wanderers for transport. Unexpectedly, grey streams began to rise from the fallen bodies still on the street and others rounded the end of the alley and streamed toward them.

  Uncollected souls?

  She clutched at her head, desperate to slow the surge of power. To flash. To get away from here.

  Away from Nate.

  Her poisonous energy consumed her as she rocked herself on the pavement.

  “Maeve!” Nate knelt by her side and reached for her.

  She scrambled away. “No! Don’t touch me!”

  “Maeve, what’s wrong! What’s happening?”

  Her skin was on fire as energy crept beneath its surface, barely contained within her body.

  “Rashnu, help her! What’s happening to her?”

  Rashnu looked down at her, his right eyebrow rising in surprise before he looked back at Nate. “She’s actuating into a Valkyrie.”

  Maeve heard his words, but couldn’t comprehend them. Another of Rashnu’s riddles?

  Valkyrie? No. Impossible.

  She’d been assured during her reaper training that her energy disability would prohibit such a thing from ever happening. She was defective.

  The souls continued to stream from the bodies, several dozen of them now. They swirled down the street in a solid storm of activity. Certain she was about to pass out, Maeve pressed the heels of her hands to the sides of her forehead, trying to relieve the excruciating pressure building there.

  The storm of souls stopped spinning, recalibrated and swarmed toward Maeve at an impossible speed. Striking her in the heart chakra with the full force of a blow, she fell back, her head cracking against the pavement as they streamed into her, filling her body.

  This was the end.

  As the souls penetrated her body, jockeying for position inside her, she said her mental goodbyes and made peace with her life. Accepted the end.

  Maeve’s body shook with seizures as the souls continued their relentless swirling. There were too many, far too many. She reached for something solid to hold onto, both physically and mentally, afraid they would tear her to bits here in the street.