The Witching Hour (The Grim Reaper Saga (Urban Fantasy Romance))

by Marie Hall

  Eve pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and gave an odd jerk of her head. But her emotions spoke louder than words. Indigo was reckless. And she was worried.

  “We need to find the body, Eve,” he said, then walked off, tracking the scent of fresh blood. The mist like particles filtered through his nose, each drop a clue leading him to the body.

  She followed close on his heels. They hadn’t walked far before they spotted him. Lying deep in shadow and in the middle of a puddle, was the slumped form. A knitted cap, full of holes, sat askew on his head. A vacant, glass-like gaze stared into the nothingness.

  He frowned, something wasn’t right about this scene. He walked up to the body and knelt in front of the man, rolling him over and looking for the pulsating blue mist of a soul needing harvesting.

  “Is he dead?” Eve asked, a slight tremor to her voice.

  He placed his hand on the man’s chest. The body was dead. Brain synapses’ no longer shooting off. Heart not beating. Blood flow non-existent, but the soul refused to leave. It wasn’t this man’s time to go. He’d be taken to a hospital, hooked up to life support machines, and made to live out the rest of his days in a vegetative state.

  There was nothing he could do for him. His hand had turned skeletal because the body was dead, but if the soul refused to leave he couldn’t force it.

  Shaking his head, he stood. “We have to go.”

  “But, that man--” she pointed. “We can’t just leave him here.”

  “Eve, neither you nor I can be caught near this body. Cops will come asking questions, they’ll want to tack the blame on us.”

  She huffed. “They have to be smarter than that. C’mon, you can’t think they’d pin this on us. We’ll just tell them the truth...”

  “And what? Look at me, look at you. We’re different. The human has fang marks in his neck. You honestly think they wouldn’t try to lay the blame on us? Humans are looking for a reason to overthrow the government’s ruling on the supers. Voices are getting loud. They don’t want us here. This would be a good P.R. move for them.”

  “Not all humans are like that. Some are fair, good, just.” Her lips thinned, she was thinking about her husband and he sighed.

  “Eve, that is the minority. Supers have become a spectacle, something different and hot right now. But when we become old news, that’s when it becomes dangerous. That’s when the humans no longer see us as oddities, or quirks, but something evil and deadly that needs eradicating. What that vampire did tonight, that’s just going to add fuel to the fire.”

  “You don’t know this.”

  The scent of unwashed humans permeated the breeze. Tramps were coming out of the woodworks, looking for clothes, food, shelter. Soon they’d stumble across him and Eve. Last thing he wanted to do was add to the casualty of tonight by defending Eve against the riot of humans finding a fallen brethren.

  “Yes, I do. Life is an ever-revolving thing. That’s why empires come and go, because people refuse to learn from past mistakes. This is how the Great War started and unless humans and supers wake up, this is how another Great War will begin. Now come.” He grabbed her by the arm with his good hand and led them quickly away from the scene.

  She was angry. If felt like boiling oil poured over his flesh. He winced, hating to be the cause of her anger, but years of dealing with mortals, seeing history unfold before his eyes. He knew. Things never really changed. War was inevitable. Not today, maybe not even fifty years from now, but soon.

  After five minutes of silence, she sighed and glanced at him. Her churning anger slid away, replaced by a fluttering shame. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He grabbed her hand. “Don’t be. You only wanted to help. Who could blame you for that?”

  “Life in the big city, gotta love it.”

  “Yeah,” he said in monotone with a small shake of his head.

  “Look,” she stopped and placed her hand against his chest, halting him. “I don’t want that to ruin our night. We’re almost there... and I just want to have a relaxing time. We can’t change what happened. So let’s just move on. Deal?” She held out her hand.

  Grudgingly, he nodded and shook it. Her smile grew even wider, encompassing all of her face, crinkling her eyes and wrinkling her nose. The warmth radiating from her to him banished the last of his doubt and anger.

  “Good.” She turned and walked on.

  Minutes later, dim red lights of a flashing neon sign caught his eye. Requiem’s tattoo. He frowned. “This?”

  She bit her lip, nodding. “I’m so addicted, it’s not even funny.”

  She had tattoos? He couldn’t help but scour her body for clues. He’d never suspected. She looked free of any markings. “Where?”

  Her finger traced a winding line down her back and around her ribcage. “It’s not finished yet. Pretty big. It’s my animal familiar.”

  He was definitely curious.

  “It’s an Ivory-billed Woodpecker. Very, very rare. And beautiful. It’s white and black with this bright red crest on top. I dunno,” she shrugged, her cheeks bright pink with excitement, “that poor bird. It’s almost extinct, but it keeps fighting, trying to hang on. That’s sorta become my mantra these days.” Her lips twisted into a self-conscious smile.

  “Why a bird?”

  “I’ve always had a bond with them. I love birds. You’re gonna think I’m really weird, but it’s almost as if I understand them.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and laughed. “I’m gonna run you off with all this weird talk. C’mon, let’s go inside.”

  He was quiet, but thinking. Instantly one of the six houses of the fae kingdom came to mind. The house of feathers. Any fae belonging to that house had a special affinity to birds. Bird whisperers as they were called. He studied Eve.

  It seemed the second he’d start to figure her out, she threw him for another curve. There were layers to the witch. Intriguing glimpses into the real Eve, and the more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

  He followed her into the tattoo parlor. The moment he walked through the door a warm pulsation traveled the length of his body. He stopped, frowning, and studied the building. A small blue glow covered the shops exterior, the light so dull it was out of the spectrum of human range. The magick was benign, but powerful, it rippled and moved like a rolling wave over the place.

  Eve glanced behind her shoulder and followed his gaze. “It’s a warding spell set up by yours truly. Mingan was having trouble keeping the humans safe from the supers. Finally he decided he just needed them not to come at all, and in exchange for my tat I set up the spell. A true blood can enter, if a human comes across the building, they’ll walk through the door and instantly forget the past hour of their life. They’ll turn around and walk away.”

  To hear her speak of her work in such an offhanded manner made him respect her all the more. This was no simple spell. It had probably taken hours and years’ worth of knowledge to have set up something so sophisticated. He held the door open for her, following her inside.

  “It’s impressive.”

  She laughed. “Thanks for saying so.”

  The entire shop was bathed in a soft red light, casting everything in a surreal quality. He frowned.

  “Weres see better in red for some reason, they do their best work in this lighting,” she said, as if reading his mind.

  A receptionist, head bent over a table, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he drew a design on a sheet of paper, finally noticed them. His brown eyes widened a fraction of an inch. He stood and ran a hand over his medium length orange-red hair.

  “Eve,” he said with a big smile and walked around the reception desk. “Damn it’s good to see you again.”

  “Noah,” she replied, walking into his quick embrace. He placed a kiss on either cheek.

  “So what have you been up to? Mingan’s been getting cranky wanting to finish up that tat of yours. He calls it his masterpiece.”

  She laughed. “He would. No,
I’ve been busy with work and...” she stole a glance at Cian’s face, “other things. Noah,” she stepped away from him, “this is Cian. Cian, Noah.”

  “Hey man,” Noah said, extending his hand.

  Cian clasped it, taking a moment to do a quick study of the man. He smelled garlic, peppers, and meat. Not the sick sweet scent of raw meat, but cooked steak, and tons of it. The brown eyes were large. The pupils dilated into cat-like slits. His grip was firm, the handshake done without hesitation. Noah was not frightened of Cian, just merely curious. He was a confident Were--Tiger most likely.

  Matter of fact the entire shop smelled of Were. The odor was undeniable. It was the scent of fall leaves, upturned earth, and animal pheromones. It lingered everywhere, invaded his senses and told him much of the inhabitants. While many of them were new to the world of shape shifting, a few were ancients. Old enough to remember the Great Wars. Immediately Cian was on his guard.

  But Noah projected no feelings of hostility or guardedness and that tamed Cian’s natural instinct to protect his turf. Namely, Eve.

  He clipped his head toward Noah.

  “Now that you’re done taking my measure,” Noah said, never breaking eye contact, “let’s head back to Mingan. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you again, Eve.”

  ***

  “Eve.” Mingan stood from his Indian style sitting position on a brightly colored Turkish rug. “It’s about time, witch,” he grumbled.

  She laughed. “Glad to see you missed me too, old wolf.”

  “Bah.” He swatted his hand through the air, but there was a teasing sparkle in his liquid bronze eyes.

  He looked so familiar, this room, this place, that she experienced a temporary pang. From the Asian inspired murals along the walls, to the soothing scent of lilac incense. Last time she’d been here was with Michael. Mingan’s eyes turned soft with remorse. Obviously she’d been transmitting again. Not a surprise since she had such a flimsy hold on that power these days.

  Bloody bane of my existence.

  He gripped her shoulder and nodded, then turned around and walked to his workbench. He indicated the cot with a jerk of his thumb. “Lay down and take off your shirt. We’ll begin soon as I’m ready.” The small swatch of a gray pelt tied into his salt and pepper braid flitted as he moved about, preparing his station.

  He brought out a silver pan filled with blue and white baggies of sterile needles. He picked one out, sat it down, and then proceeded to pour the ink colors he’d need into small, thimble-sized containers. Red, gold, black and white. All this by heart. Yes, he’d remembered her tattoo very well.

  Eve wrapped her arms around herself, even as she sensed the soothing presence of Cian behind her. She closed her eyes and shivered. Goosebumps burned a fiery trail across her back seconds before his large hand gripped her arm. They stood so close together, the friction of their two bodies popped and cracked with currents of static.

  He leaned in, his warm breath tickling her ear. “Are you okay?”

  She took comfort where she could, leaning into him just slightly. His concern for her was thoughtful, banishing the insidious thoughts creeping in. “I’m fine. Just memories. Old memories.”

  She turned. His blue eyes never swerved from her face, the intensity of the gaze made her feel like she was about to melt into one big puddle of tingling goo. By the Goddess she could get used to that look. It made her all twitchy and excited; made her feel alive again.

  “I have to get undressed,” she whispered.

  His face remained impassive, but his fingers jerked ever so slightly. A heaviness centered between her thighs, her nipples tightened, and her body flared to life. If she didn’t move away soon she was liable to purr like an excited kitten. Hard as it was, she took a step back.

  Her fingers were clumsy as she undid the buttons to her gray sweater. She pushed the sleeves down and let the garment flutter to the ground. His eyes were hot, hard, and heavy. Instantly her senses became extra heightened, aware of everything. From the abrasive texture of her blue jeans, to the soft velvet of her top.

  The pupils of his eyes dilated. Highlighting the already vibrant iris’ into an even more intense shade of sparkling blue. In that moment he looked surreal and otherworldly, and she decided she liked it. Very much. What had she been missing all this time? She’d never made a conscious choice to just stick with humans. But that’s all she’d ever dated.

  Then again, she’d never met a Cian before.

  Mingan continued to shuffle around, his sounds like white noise in the background. There was this odd sensation filling her, like it was just her and the Vamp. Nothing else. There was something so erotic about this scene that it made her a little lightheaded and daring.

  Biting her lower lip, she inched her top up and over her head. Slowly. Deliberately. Her fingers grazed bare skin as she dropped the shirt to the ground. There was nothing normal about the excitement flowing through her veins. The knowledge that she was a woman and he was a man. It was primal. Elemental. Natural.

  Clothing for her was not a necessity. She’d never been shy when it came to nudity. She’d partially disrobed in front of Mingan many times, never feeling a hint of arousal, but with Cian standing so close, his eyes so riveted, she felt wanton and heady.

  In her mind she questioned why she’d brought a perfect stranger with her to the tattoo shop where she was required to go practically topless. Shouldn’t this feel so wrong?

  The beat of her heart fluttered against her chest. It sure didn’t feel wrong. Far as Cian was concerned, being with him just felt natural. Like sex. The more you did it, the more you wanted to do it.

  And why was she thinking about sex when she’d already decided they would only be friends? But then there were all sorts of friends weren’t there? Friends to drink tequila with, friends to watch old sappy movies with, and friends with benefits. She was an all or nothing girl, or at least she’d always been, but Cian tempted her ways she’d never known before. Could she really do it, that was another matter entirely.

  With a slow curling of her lips, she reached her hands behind her back and undid the clasp of her bra, allowing the straps to slide down both shoulders.

  The amulet lying between her breasts tingled with the rush of power flowing through her veins. It whipped around her, through her. He had to be feeling her need.

  His face was unreadable, the rise and fall of his chest steady, and yet she felt the crackle of his desire snap around her like live wire.

  The cool air grazing her skin was sweet torture. She was hot and cold, fire and ice, all at once. Her nipples beaded up, tightening into tiny, painful buds.

  Her lips twitched when he finally dropped his gaze from her face to her breasts. Yep. He was a man after all.

  She couldn’t resist glancing down at the very visible bulge in his pants. A sense of female empowerment filled her. Nobody else but her had made him rise to half-mast. A warm glow flowed through her.

  Eve covered her breasts with one arm, expertly slipping the bra off with her other hand.

  Bolts of desire whipped through her veins as his gaze pierced her body, traveling a languorous trail. Starting at her breasts, then shifting to her navel, and finally to the tip of a bird feather beginning at the edge of her ribs.

  He took a step forward, and her lashes fluttered. Hot liquid crashed between her thighs, soaking the crotch of her barely there thong.

  “You know I hate to break up the strip tease. And while I’ll admit, that was pretty hot; I’m not getting any younger. Sit your butt down. Let’s get this thing over with,” Mingan grumbled.

  So okay, maybe she’d gone a little too far. But who could blame her? The vamp was just so freaking hot. ‘Nuff said.

  “Man, I tell you what, Min, I feel the love today.”

  A rumbling chuckle fell from his lips. “Hey. I’m on my best behavior for you.”

  “Well, heaven help the customer you actually don’t like.”

  Cian cleared his throat and shi
fted around. With a snort in his direction she walked over to the leather cot and laid down on her belly, stretching her arms over her head.

  Cian wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of lust. She was so wet she couldn’t stand it. Thankfully a woman wasn’t so obvious in her desire. One of many blessings that let her know the female form was superior.

  Of course if you asked men... well everyone knew what men thought. Gotta love ‘em.

  She huffed a lank of hair out of her face, seriously rethinking this lust thing; maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to give into temptation after all. Two consenting adults giving into their bodily needs, nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.

  The small room filled with the sound of a low, continuous buzz and she found relief in the pain of the needle piercing her skin.

  ***

  Cian felt like a volcano ready to explode, his cock was full, thick, and unspent. When Eve had dropped the bra and he’d caught a peek of coral colored nipples, he’d nearly lost it.

  She’d been a vision with the black hair cascading down her slender frame, her golden eyes wide and luminous, and her pale, perfect skin glistening in the faint red light.

  He clenched his hands by his sides. Visiting her had been his worst idea yet. Tattoo’s had no right to look so beautiful. He was marked, not by ink, but by race. All fae bore a marking telling which house they belonged to. For some it was a feather, for others, a crescent moon. For him it was a skull. Huge, and covering his entire back. Death. The mark of the pariah.

  He loathed his mark and considered it a sign of servitude. But Eve seemed to delight in hers. A soft smile graced her lips. He rubbed his chest and turned his back to her, needing a distraction, something to take his mind off the woman lying face down with the paleness of her back exposed.

  The walls were covered with white laminated sheets of colored and black and white designs. But these weren’t the classic, run of the mill variety. They had flare and a signature style. He walked closer and peered down.

  There was a boldness to them, sharp and deliberate color contrasts and shading. Mingan was an accomplished artist. His illustrations were precise, linear, and clean. Chinese dragons, their bodies twisted in on themselves, their red and gold markings bright against the black of its scales. Koi fish. Tigers prowling through woods and ripping from out the page with a regal snarl on its orange striped face, pointed incisors gleaming.