Yup, real angel of death here.
The second I thought of my stupid childhood nickname, I let out a low, bitter chuckle, and Hoodie Guy spun around in his seat and stared straight down the aisle at me. I still couldn’t clearly see his face, but I sensed his staggering intensity, a shivering darkness that hovered in the walkway between us. The once-bright inside of the bus grew dim, as if the sunlight was being dampened.
I blinked, and he appeared right beside me in the aisle, like he’d materialized out of thin air.
All I made out was the eerie twin glow from his shadowed face. The second our eyes met, light flared in his eyes, a scarlet flash that was so unnatural I reared away. I tried to scream, but my throat closed shut and nothing escaped, not even a whisper of air. His triumphant smile became perfectly clear in my fading vision, though. A twist of full lips that were sensual, yet cruel, turning upward at the corners, the barest flash of white teeth. I shrank back in my seat, as far as I could get from that mocking smile, and then…
I blinked again.
And he was gone.
I didn’t know what I’d just seen, but everything was back to normal, the sun so bright that I was momentarily blinded, the man next to me snoring softly, a baby in the back crying. But two rows ahead of me, the seat was empty. No sign of Hoodie Guy. I craned my head, searching the length of the half-full bus, but he was gone.
As if he’d never existed.
Chapter Four
Rex
I stood in the middle of the road, watching the silver bus disappear, swallowed by the dust of yet another forgettable town.
Catherine.
Since I’d spent centuries tracking my prey, it was difficult letting her go. I knew her name, but that wasn’t how I’d find her again. Now that I’d gotten a whiff of her magic, I was confident I could track her anywhere. Angels of Death were rare. So rare I’d almost given up for good. But yesterday, something had pulled me to that forgotten town.
Like a moth to the flame, I’d followed Catherine’s magic to that faded diner on Main Street. She was growing stronger, and soon, others would track her. Creatures who didn’t want to protect her. Monsters who would exploit her. Or worse.
After I’d spotted her—incredibly powerful and completely unaware of the fact—I did the unthinkable: I slid onto a stool and ordered coffee so I could evaluate her power. But I couldn’t get a good read on her.
To a casual onlooker, she was just your average girl. Long, dark hair gathered up in a messy bun, a round, pale face sprinkled with freckles and set with two enormous steel-blue eyes. She ran the diner with an iron fist, all while smiling and joking with every regular as if she’d known them her entire life. But she avoided me, aside from a few curious glances, which was why I’d followed her onto the bus.
But the second our gazes met and I saw the reciprocal flash of light in her eyes, I knew I could finally stop looking. “Because I’ve finally found you,” I told myself, torn between relief and frustration. “And now, it’s time to rally the troops.”
Yanking my iPhone from my back pocket, I thumbed up Ambrose’s number, then Jonas’ and Titus’, and sent out a group text.
I’ve found her. But there’s issues. Meet me in Asheville. Guard her with your lives.
I slid the phone back into my pocket.
With luck, they’d arrive in Asheville before me, waiting as her bus pulled in to keep her out of danger. Her power was rising, calling out to those who’d want to take it from her. I couldn’t meet the bus, because I had something else to take care of. Between one breath and the next, I ghosted myself back to Amblin, landing in the living room of a tidy little house. From the kitchen, I heard someone humming. Marsha, most likely.
Scrubbing my arm—traveling like that always made my skin itch, an unavoidable side effect of breaking through the veil—I hesitated. I’d done this task a million times before, but somehow, this felt less like mercy and more like pity.
Sam lay on the couch, covered in a bright afghan, his thinning hair falling over to one side. His greyish pallor was set off by the dark veins running through his flesh, as if the cancer was eating him alive. I laid a hand on his chest, feeling my palm heat. “Be at peace,” I murmured. “Don’t fight it.”
His eyes fluttered, and the humming in the kitchen stopped. I sent a pulse of healing magic into him. Not so quickly as to overwhelm his failing system, but just slowly enough to cause his organs to repair themselves, the cancer cells to shrivel and die. Within moments his face glowed, pink and healthy, as his body healed. His hands tightened slightly on the edge of the afghan, and Marsha called from the kitchen, “Sam, honey, are you all right? Can I get you anything?”
“You’ll be okay now, Sam,” I softly reassured the old man. “I can’t have your death on her head. She is worrying for you, even now.”
I left Sam Smith lying on his couch, alive and well. And I went to find my angel.
Chapter Five
Catherine
Do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend you’re not freaking out when you are totally freaking out? I’d tried everything, from reading, to listening to endless loops of classical music. Nothing worked. All I could think of was that faintly victorious smile and the flash of red eyes.
The upside: scary, creepy stalker was gone.
Downside: he’d vanished into thin air out of a moving vehicle.
Worse yet, no one else had even noticed the guy was gone.
“It’s almost as if he wasn’t even here in the first place,” I muttered, trying to convince myself of the impossible. Readying my tattered backpack as the bus pulled into the Asheville station, I lurched back and forth as the vehicle came to a complete stop. I’d chosen a larger town this time, going by my new—yet untested—theory that the more people I gathered around me, the more diffused my deathly charms would be.
A mere theory, sure, but one that had promise. Limiting my exposure to a few people a day only ensured that the people I actually liked got sick and died. Maybe a bunch of strangers would fare better. Unfortunately, my only saleable skill was waitressing, which put me in contact with the masses. But I couldn’t afford to be out of work. A girl had to eat.
Asheville smelled like the mountains surrounding it, pine sap and stone tinged by cooler air than what I was used to. The Greyhound stop was busy, teeming with more people than I’d seen in a while. I pulled out my old, beat-up phone and discovered a blank screen. “Damn it.” My battery barely held a charge these days. The second I had housing arranged, I’d charge it up and look for a job.
The little hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I swung my backpack over my shoulder and tried to blend in with the crowd. Most passengers had rides, families happy to see them, girlfriends and boyfriends and lovers who welcomed them. Briefly, I wondered what that would be like before brushing the thought away. Not going to happen. Not in this lifetime.
Asheville would be different, I promised myself. I wouldn’t allow anyone to get close, and I wouldn’t get attached to anyone in return. Maybe rotating jobs every month in this new city would do the trick. Anything would be better than what I’d been doing. Killing your friends definitely puts a damper on your social life.
I fought the urge to reach up and rub the back of my neck, while I picked up the pace. Last night I’d found a rental I could afford, and the owner seemed nice enough. It was only a few blocks away, and although my savings would take a hit, I was confident I’d have another job in a few days. Peeling away from the crowd, I headed deeper into town, looking for Daniels Street. Jack Daniel’s happened to be one of my favorite whiskeys.
A sign? I’d decided to take it as one.
I’d discovered the rental in the real estate listings, and it seemed almost too good to be true. After seeing the picture, I’d immediately fallen in love with the old, elegant Victorian. The woman seemed eager to rent to a quiet, non-smoking, single female. My excitement growing, I started up a steep hill.
The sound of heavy
steps followed me, and I hurried faster. Looking behind me would alert my pursuers to how nervous I was, but if I didn’t look, then I’d have no idea who was behind me. Gah. The fucking impossible choices women have to make.
I tried to be discreet, one quick glance, as if I was looking for a street sign. Fuck. There were three of them, and they were big. Shoulders hunched against the wind, they filled up the whole sidewalk, a solid wall of motorcycle leather and muscle, and one of them—I took another surreptitious peek—looked like he had wings. “You’re a little too old for Halloween, boys,” I muttered, and began to jog.
When the sound of footsteps faded away, I checked again. They were gone. Relief shuddered through me as I turned onto Daniels, stumbling over the cracked sidewalk. My heart sank as I scanned the neighborhood. None of these places would work. I needed a big house to put lots of room between me and everyone else. Disappointed, I looked up and down both sides of the street. Nothing bigger than a Cape Cod. Not a Victorian in sight. “Maybe it’s over this next hill,” I muttered hopefully as I trudged along, while the houses grew even smaller. A few half-rotten jack-o’-lanterns—carved far too early by eager children—watched me pass.
It seemed like I’d only taken one more step before I stood in front of the white three-story home from the ad. It was exactly how I’d thought it would look, right down to the wide front porch. Even needing a coat of paint, it was still the most elegant house I’d seen in in a long time. The steps creaked, but the porch seemed solid, with a pair of faded wicker chairs positioned by a big bay window. This is beautiful, I thought sadly. Too bad I’ll only be here for a few weeks.
I was just raising my hand to knock when the door flew open, revealing a tiny old woman in a pink bathrobe. Two scrawny cats wound in and out between her legs, mewing. The largest, a tabby, hissed when it caught sight of me.
“Oh, don’t worry about her,” the woman told me. “She’s a prima donna to every new guest. You’re Catherine, I take it?”
I nodded, the strong smell of old woman, baby powder and cat wafting out of the house.
Only a couple of weeks, I assured myself, my nose wrinkling.
Frowning, she squinted over my shoulder. “Are these your friends, Catherine? I thought you were new in town and didn’t know a soul.” Her face hardened. “I took you at your word, you know. It’s not nice to lie.”
My brain stuttered slightly. I’d never told her any of that.
“Step off the porch.” Behind me, the man’s voice was melodic, but tinged with an undeniable air of command. Automatically, I backed away a step, and the other cat hissed, its teeth yellow and way too long.
“I know you don’t know me, but you need to trust me right now.”
I whipped my head around, trying to get a better view of my pursuers.
“I need you to do me a big favor, hon. Get away from the pink-robed demon. Right now.”
The speaker was tall and lean, with a mop of curly blond hair and dark eyes tinged with concern. He was poised at the edge of the sidewalk, his gaze flicking between me and the old woman. Behind him were the other two men who’d followed me from the bus stop. No sign of wings now. Huh, I thought, I must have been seeing things. The blond scowled, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the cat lady.
“You’ve already lost,” the nice old lady said, reaching out to snag my arm with a claw-like hand. A freezing-cold tingle passed from where she gripped me down to my toes. “Good luck getting to her now, assholes.” She let out a mad cackle. “Sucks to be you.”
It was the strangest thing. Deep down, I realized I was in terrible danger. I didn’t have a clue what was happening, but the jolt of adrenaline hit me like a truck, my stomach cramped with fear and my knees trembled. Worse yet, my panic didn’t stem from the unknown men lurking on the sidewalk. It came from the tiny old woman with the viselike grip on my arm.
Wrenching my arm away, I skittered to the very edge of the porch. And went no further.
“Goddamn it,” the blond said. “Where the hell is Rex? We need him to stop fucking around and get his ass here.” The man I thought had wings pulled out a phone and furiously typed something, then slid it back into the pocket of his leather coat.
I saw and heard everything as I struggled to move, but my body was frozen, my feet glued to the rotting porch boards. Behind me the stench grew stronger, the acrid smell of cats mixing with something rotten. “You’re all mine now,” the woman said. I would have turned, but every muscle in my body was paralyzed.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get you out of this,” the blond called reassuringly as my imagination over the intense smell went haywire. “Rex is on his way.”
What the hell is that even supposed to mean? I tried to at least blink, but it was a no-go and they began to water. Who were these guys, and why the fuck couldn’t I move?
“She’s a feisty one, I’ll give you that. But she’ll never break through my wards,” the woman said. “Haven’t seen any of her kind around here for eons. Couldn’t believe it when she called about the room. That cheap ad reels them in every time.” With heavy footsteps, the old woman waited until she was right beside me to throw out her next taunt.
“Of course, I had no idea how lucky I was. A genuine angel of death, now how delicious is that? I can almost taste you.” Right before my eyes, the elegant Victorian home faded away, to be replaced by a grey, rotten front porch with collapsing balusters. The stench of cat and decay grew even stronger, underlined by something that stank of roadkill.
“Let her go, bitch,” Blond Guy said, stopping just short of her yard. “She’s not yours to take.”
“Oh, let me guess. She’s yours?”
“With luck, yes,” the blond retorted. “Our kind takes care of its own.”
Since I couldn’t move, my eyes were glued to the chatty blond. I was almost glad I couldn’t turn around, though. Between the overwhelming stench and the malice emanating from the old lady by my side, I’d have likely hurled.
At the edge of the sidewalk, a toe’s length away from the dead grass of this crazy lady’s yard, the air swirled, an almost-invisible shimmer that warped and blurred everything behind it, like heat rising from asphalt in the summer. Out of that wavy nothingness stepped a man with coal-black hair and the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. And when he looked at me, his lips curved in a grim, jubilant smile—the same one I’d seen just hours ago on the bus.
“About fucking time, Rex,” the blond muttered.
Without the hood, Rex’s handsome face was revealed in all its glory. From his high, defined cheekbones to the slant of his dark brows, to his broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist, this guy was every woman’s wet dream. Even the smooth way he moved, like he was floating on air, gave him a powerful grace most men lacked.
His electric-blue gaze slid off me and over to the old woman.
“Let her go, Amenta. She is not for you.”
His voice was a combination of smooth tenor and utter command, and despite the situation, I was enthralled. The echo of his order rippled through me, unlocking some memory. This was the guy from my dreams. I’d never seen his face, but that voice…
“I got to her first, Reaper. Look somewhere else for your next meal.”
“Have it your way, but you should know…I’ve been searching for her for a very long time. And I’m not inclined to just walk away because you’re a stubborn old goat.” His lip quirked up, revealing white teeth. “I’ll ask again. Release her and we’ll all walk away from this.”
“To the victor go the spoils.”
“So be it.”
Before I could even blink—not that I actually could—Rex disappeared. I would have thought him gone except for the cold rush of air across my cheek. One of the cats hissed furiously, as if faced by a real threat. I heard a wet, squishy splat, and then whatever weird spell held me in place slowly released me.
My head was freed first, and I made the mistake of swinging it to look at him, unfo
rtunately catching sight of the gory red pile of tattered fabric and flesh at his feet. Even worse was the bloodied hand lying next to it. My insides rebelled as the urge to flee became overwhelming.
“Don’t look, Catherine,” he murmured. “We’ll have you out of here in no time.” His friends—the leather trifecta—jogged up the sidewalk.
I struggled against my unseen bonds, desperate to put space between me and whatever the fuck this was. Although my backpack swung wildly from my efforts, my damn feet remained glued to the porch. I couldn’t say I was acting rationally, but when you have no idea what’s going on around you, running always seems like the right choice.
Rex laid his hand against my face. “Be calm, angel. We’re not going to hurt you.”
The pressure of his hand was like the first big breath of winter, cold and something you were never ready for. A shiver raced through me from the place our skin connected. It was like the cold penetrated my flesh, all the way to my bones. I couldn’t explain it, exactly, only that the second he touched me, I stilled. Not because I was frightened, but because, for the first time in a very long time, I felt the contact of another’s skin against mine.
Best of all, this was real, not some bedtime fantasy. I closed my eyes and sank into his touch.
It felt glorious.
Chapter Six
Catherine
My toes curled in my boots as the last of the spell released me from its grip.
But freedom was secondary to the cold hand cupping my cheek like a lover, and I fought the urge to nestle further into Rex’s touch. I wanted him to kiss me, to know what he tasted like. I wanted more than to dream about intimacy. I wanted it to be real. Something sparked in his eyes, a red flash, and then he smiled that odd smile.
“Ah. There you are, Catherine,” he said softly. “Good to go.”
To my amazement, he stepped away and gestured down the broken steps. His friends parted, giving me a wide lane to escape through. I hoisted my backpack higher. I could have walked away right then, and I believed they would have let me. But too much had happened in the past fifteen minutes, and I wanted answers.
A Cursed All Hallows' Eve Page 39