Conjuring Wrath (Seven Deadly Book 3)

by Michelle Gross

  That didn’t matter. Getting to her was. My bones ached as all the dread mounted on my shoulders. My heart splintered as I raced to get to the girl I should have stayed away from. It wasn’t my job to question someone’s death. Fate decided everything.

  Although I planned on stealing a life that belonged in Heaven, no one should have fucking dared steal her from me.

  No matter how fast I tried to reach her, it was pointless. My senses kicked in and images rushed through my mind. My joints coiled and pierced me with pain. A metallic taste filled my mouth. Gwendolyn’s blood. It was as if they’d stabbed me. It flowed from her mouth like a river. Her new fate weighed upon me and clung to my skin, seeping into my veins. No! She was dying, and there wasn’t a thing I could do for her.

  Please, fuck! No!

  Why did he shove a knife through Gwendolyn’s heart when she was already dying? The bastard used a blade imbued with dark magic. I could feel the angry pulse of the evil spell used as I faded into a clearing full of demons. Several of them scattered and stumbled back when they sensed me.

  Blood dripped from the hand-carved bone knife in the red-cloaked figure's hand. I watched in horror as the vampire released Gwendolyn’s lifeless body. One moment her corpse dangled in the air, and then it clunked against the cold ground. The sound hit my ears, reverberating in my head.

  I waited for rage to consume me, but it didn’t.

  My skin crawled. My wrath climbed. But I didn’t boil over.

  What the fuck?

  I was frozen in place, unable to look away from Gwendolyn. I kept waiting for her soul to slip from her body. She didn’t deserve to die with a horde of demons watching. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.

  So why did it?

  Was this a punishment for me daring to change her fate just as they had done?

  “I guess you can call this retribution for killing six of ours.” The familiar female voice snapped my attention.

  She was the one with Newt that delivered the little message about the Harvesters. The warlock was killed after his attempt to kidnap Maureen. She killed him herself, but I would have loved to have had the chance to do the honors. Yeah, I remembered killing the six with fate’s eyes, but I struggled to recall what Newt had called the woman that night… Nadine.

  As far as the Harvesters were concerned. We couldn’t get a read on any of them. Something about their cloaks concealed their identities from our senses. It was no different in that moment. I blinked, and suddenly I was surrounded by Harvest’s followers.

  Still, I was confused and fucking murderous. Why did the Harvesters do that to an innocent? Gwendolyn wasn’t from their world.

  Gritting my teeth, I spoke as calm as wrath was capable. The Harvesters had no idea what monster their actions had unleashed. “Where’s her soul?”

  “Gone,” Nadine replied, lifting the thin blade in her hand and twirling it. “We destroyed it.”

  Did she think I was a fool? I felt the darkness in the area from the dark magic they’d used. I saw the pulse of its blackness shimmering off the blade.

  So, it was an entrapment.

  Gwendolyn’s soul was trapped.

  Nadine had no idea what she provoked by keeping me from Gwendolyn’s soul.

  “You’re lying,” I said.

  It didn’t take much to bring forth fate’s eyes. As much as I wanted to kill the Harvesters with my hands, I knew the second I made a move they’d port away from me, and I wouldn’t be able to get them all.

  And I wanted to kill every single one.

  If rage wouldn’t run rampant, I had to use my gift. The second the chains appeared from their chests, I locked on to the spot where most of them gathered and faded there. Once I re-faded, I twisted my wrist and collected as many as I could, severing their lifelines.

  “He’s using his eyes again!” Nadine hissed when several bodies dropped.

  I jumped and closed the distance between us before she could activate a portal chip. A vamp came at me. My hand went through his chest, piercing his heart. He disintegrated into ash.

  Nadine was a witch. The second I saw her lift her palm; I grabbed her wrist.

  No magical blows, bitch.

  She lifted her free hand to blast me. I let go of her and faded, then reappeared behind her. Surprisingly, several Harvesters lunged at me. It delighted Wrath that they didn’t run away like I assumed they would.

  I grabbed the restraints belonging to the three charging me. Instead of severing them, I whipped them together, swinging the chains over my head and slamming the evil followers into the ground.

  My mind became hazy. I should have gone after Nadine, but I went for the rest of the group. The need to cause pain licked up my spine like a lover’s caress. It was the reason why I raged out so easily. Pleasure came with feeding my curse. Killing was more satisfying than being balls deep inside a woman. Frankly, I’d never been able to enjoy sex because it always worried me that Wrath would take over.

  I materialized my scythe and morphed it into a machete as I jumped toward my targets. I descended over the three Harvesters at my feet. In one giant swoop, I sliced across their necks. Immediately, I recalled the scythe as I faded and re-faded behind the demons still charging in the direction I came from. Confusion and fear laced the air as their red cloaks swayed, scrambling to find me. I swung my weapon and cleaved the demon standing in front of me.

  Wrath flourished inside me—egging me on, pumping my body with unstable power.

  Not yet, I begged my sin.

  I wanted to be the one to destroy them all, but if I raged out, I might kill what was left of Gwendolyn. My fucking dimples. I was certain they trapped her soul in the small sword. I refused to believe anything else. She was still there which meant I couldn't fucking lose my head and explode if I wanted to save her afterlife. She deserved that. Hell, she didn’t deserve to die that day or next year—or ever. This was on me. My fault for being so selfish by thinking I could keep something so precious with the end nearing. I wanted her so damn much. I just needed her to be safe far away from there. From me. For her on sake.

  Death was supposed to come for her. To carry her to a better life. I came for her. I wreaked havoc for her fragile soul, and I’d be damned if I’d let anyone destroy her for good.

  I knew my place again—to make sure bad things didn’t happen to the souls we were supposed to ascend. I’d send the little spitfire into Heaven and let them keep up with her. Maybe she’d spin circles around the angels.

  The idea sent a slice of agony through my heart. I was already envious of all those angels that got to stay beside her.

  One thing was for certain. Her vengeance was mine to deliver.

  “Go, Nadine!” One of the cloaked figures yelled right before I severed his head.

  I faded to Nadine but was blocked by a smaller figure who had powerful waves of magic wafting from it. Where did it come from? Before the demon’s arrival, no one had stopped me. A small glove-covered hand rested on my chest and froze my body in place. Not a demon but a witch!

  A blast of power shot out from her palm. Fire raced through my lungs. The force of the newcomer’s magic knocked me back. My boots left a trail several feet from where she stood.

  “Come, Nova,” Nadine barked as I stalked toward the smaller figure. “Take us out of here.” Nova’s white mask lowered as she bent her head.

  No. I wouldn’t let them leave!

  Fading, I came up behind Nadine and snagged the edge of her cloak. It ripped at her shoulders, and as the material tore some of its enchantment dissipated. Not only did I catch sight of her black shirt, but her identity revealed itself as the cloak’s magic was weakened. There was a reason why Nadine stayed in groups. The Fishers family of witches wasn’t very powerful.

  Nova blasted me with another wave of magic, but I held my ground. She could be troublesome. Her power made me think of someone else—Isabella, another strong witch and Sebastian’s soulmate.

  Instead of worrying about
Nova, I held out my hand and pulled the small sword hidden against Nadine’s back. Her hands weren’t quick enough to grab it as it slipped out of her torn cloak.

  She tossed a weak spell against my essence, and then her frantic eyes darted over to Nova. “Get it!”

  I reacted quickly. I knew Nova would as well. Morphing my scythe into a red blazing chain, I sent it toward Nadine. I couldn’t see Nova’s face beneath the mask, but I knew she realized I was making her choose.

  The sword or her companion.

  When our essences collided, the sword froze in midair. It jiggled and swayed back and forth as Nova’s magic battled against mine. A vampire jumped me just as my chain snaked around Nadine’s waist. I stretched the tether out, letting it chase back in my direction and right into the chest of the vamp above me. He turned to ashes as Nadine shrieked. I tightened the restraint around her.

  “Nova!” Nadine shouted.

  Nova’s white mask moved from the sword to Nadine. She lifted both palms, pointed one toward Nadine and the other toward the blade. A golden flash zinged along the restraint. An intense sting, like electricity, zapped my essence. The force sparked, trying to sever the tether wrapped around Nadine. Impossible! My chain was a part of me—immortal, hence unbreakable. But the fact that she was invoking pain in my essence woven through the weapon said enough.

  “Why did you kill someone already dying?” I asked.

  Nadine laughed. “You say that like we didn’t take out half a city.” I tightened the leash until she screamed. “You’ll know if you look at her dead body.”

  Rage flared around me. Before I succumbed to my curse, I sent the tip of my chain out and wrapped it around the sword’s hilt still rattling in the air. Using the chain, I dematerialized the weapon. The second it vanished, Nadine sunk to her knees and clutched her stomach.

  I brought out fate’s eyes again. As I grabbed Nadine’s floating lifeline, Nova ported to her side and retrieved Nadine.

  “No!” I roared, skin shimmering as I battled to maintain my body and mind. Shit! My vision blurred. Trying to focus, I blinked as I reached out for Nova’s chain. It was a bright yellow, but what was most surprising was its endless length. It flowed with mine. That was impossible.

  Nova was immortal. How?

  The sight threw me off guard, and Nova blasted me. The powerful wave of magic tossed me into the air allowing the witches to escape. I landed on my feet, staggering as my vision hazed again.

  They got away. It took a second for it to sink in.

  The realization fueled my rage. There was no preventing it. I stumbled around with my sight dimming as I searched for Gwendolyn’s body. I almost tripped on her before I saw her. I materialized the sword from where I hid it. Bending over Gwendolyn, I studied the object for a moment.

  Are you in there? I wanted to ask, but nausea filled my stomach as I stared at the wound on her exposed chest. With both hands, I gripped the blade and broke it in half. Blood trailed down my wrist and dripped onto the ground. I didn’t feel the knife slicing into my palm. The wound was already healing. I tossed the broken weapon aside, and the magic released from the object. Scooping Gwendolyn’s lifeless body up into my arms, I stood and waited for her.

  Her tiny, frail body dangled in my hold.

  Absent.

  I hadn’t felt much like a Reaper lately. All the lives we’d failed to save took a toll on the soul.

  Holding Gwendolyn in my arms created a profound sadness I couldn’t describe. All I knew was the lingering distinct pain.

  You didn’t deserve this, dimples.

  I didn’t know what I’d do if her soul wasn’t in the blade.

  It had to work.

  I glanced down at her ankle and did a double take. What the fuck?

  The unmistakable mark of wrath—a red lion’s face—glowed on her skin.

  “Reaper…?”

  Confusion? Hope? Or was it the trauma Gwendolyn had endured making me hear things? Her meek voice seemed to be all around me and nowhere at once.

  All it took was hearing her sweet, sweet voice for me to rage out. Why? Because it meant one thing. She had become a ghost.

  No! I had to stop. Raging out would kill her soul.

  My wrath would destroy what was left of her.

  Blackness greeted my thoughts, and I fell into despair.

  Chapter 10

  Gwendolyn

  I remembered dying.

  But it was how I died that shook me. I thought my failing heart would be what killed me. Not a blade to the chest while surrounded by creatures I didn’t know existed.

  There was nothing after death. I existed yet darkness blanketed me. Was the afterlife a giant abyss? Why was I aware yet unable to move from the spot I was in? Why did I have a conscious?

  It wasn’t cold or warm or anything there. I only had my rambling thoughts to keep me company.

  For someone that always wanted to be on the go, being in the void was torturous.

  The Reaper said he’d come, but he hadn’t. Something was wrong. Sadly, there were too many missing pieces to the puzzle. Where did the lion tattoo come from? Why did those men take me? Why did they kill me?

  My biggest question? Why was death so lonely? After my encounter with the Reaper, I thought there’d be some form of life when I died. Truthfully, I believed him when he said he’d keep me. So what happened? Where was he, and how did I die before seeing him again?

  That left me wherever I was at. Maybe only certain souls received peace. I had been wild and reckless. Heaven didn’t want me.

  I’m in Hell.

  A thundering boom broke through the silence. Seconds later, I was covered in a bright light. Glancing around, I saw that I was in the dead trees forest again.

  Corpses lay at my feet. I gasped. No! I didn’t want to be trapped in the darkness, or where the bad things existed either. My eyes bulged as I twisted around. I tried clutching my stomach and frowned. When my hand connected with nothing, I glanced down and saw my hand slipping through me. So I couldn’t even touch myself? I stumbled—more like floated away—ignoring the dead bodies at my feet. The demons who kidnapped and killed me were dead too.

  I noticed how my arms glowed. Piercing awareness coursed through me. I glanced down and touched my chest, and my fingers kept going. Reality sank in.

  I’m a ghost!

  Tearing my gaze from my diaphanous body, I looked up and saw him. Could it be? Trepidation stabbed me in the gut, when I took a tiny step and froze, noticing the wide expanse of his back and cloak. Was that my Reaper? He was holding someone. I could see dangling feet and arms. I moved closer and saw the tattered clothes hanging off the body. They were my own ripped pajamas. Premonition pricked at the corner of my brain as I moved a little to the side and saw the dark hair. Sorrow sliced through my stomach and filled it with bitterness and hurt.

  Me.

  That was my body he held so delicately.

  So surreal. I was a ghost staring at my corpse in his grip.

  I stared at the figure’s wide shoulders again. That height and cloak? No one else could be that big of a man but my Reaper. I recognized that chilling flood of angry energy even as a ghost. It was like his fury called to me. No matter how dangerous he seemed I was confident that he was the Reaper. Comfort soothed the fear inside me because he was there. With all the corpses lying around, I suspected he saved me. But I died, anyway. He had avenged me without asking. How could I want for anything more?

  Would it be too silly of me to ask if he was still taking me with him now that I was a ghost?

  Too hopeful or too naïve?

  “Killing you isn’t enough. We’ve got to get rid of your soul.”

  Remembering the demon’s words, I knew they targeted me on purpose. Did he know they’d kill me like that? Why didn’t he stop it sooner? And why did the demons want me?

  I went from wanting to soar to desperately craving answers.

  “Reaper?” I hesitantly called out.

  He stiffene
d. I stayed in place as some red flowing mass of energy leaked out of him. Wasn’t that what I saw at the hospital too? Something was strange about my Reaper, and I didn’t know if it was good or bad. I gawked, watching him in silent confusion as his body lost its mass and width. He was shrinking? No, not shrinking. He was still the same towering height, but the cloak lost its volume. How had he become so much skinnier? No one could lose that kind of weight unless… He wasn’t losing anything but becoming something else.

  I tilted my head and floated to the side trying to see his face. What if he turned around, and it wasn’t the Reaper, but a hideous creature? The way he spoke about being a Reaper might imply that there were more like him. Was this a different one?

  I saw his hand curl beneath the corpse’s thigh. I’d almost forgotten that he still held my body. But it wasn’t a normal hand! Just freaking bones! No skin, no muscles, and no tendons. There was nothing remotely human about the creature with the red smoky fog swirling around each bony digit.

  I recoiled as his hand tightened its hold on my dead body. Jesus! Although I couldn’t feel it since I was a ghost, seeing that creature touching me felt personal. It was creepy to watch. He bent down on one knee and gently lowered me to the ground. He eased my head down before gathering those bones and standing. My brows knitted together. Why was the creature showing my body such tenderness?

  He turned. Fear rooted me in place. Glowing red sockets watched me so intensely I was surprised I didn’t burst into flames. He had to be the Reaper. He wore the same cloak. How could the thing in front of me be the same man?

  He stepped forward. One step turned into two. As he moved closer a ripple of unease snaked down my spine. Being afraid was different as a ghost. There wasn’t a racing heart or tightness in my chest. Just a shakiness telling me I should be scared. Random thoughts filtered through my head.

  What would the skeleton do to me? Death? Or worse?

  Stopping a foot in front of me, the creepy dusky look to his bones was even more prominent up close. My eyes widened as I studied the red wisps of smoke whipping around and through his skeletal form. The fog seemed agitated. It circled and swirled around him with a pulsing angry energy like it had a will of its own.