by Luna Quinn
“I suspect I already know what you’re going to tell me,” he said, making the short trek down.
“I’ve been finding myself collecting more souls than usual.” Her voice followed him down the slope. “I spoke with Archer and Locke, and they said the same thing.” They reached the body together. Sasha sighed long and deep. “We’ve had a lot like this. Can’t be a coincidence.”
“No,” he replied as he walked the scene, careful not to disturb anything. He was glad Sasha had come to him with this information, as it confirmed his own suspicions. He would have consulted the Reapers earlier, but he’d been just as busy dealing with not only these strange deaths, but with his normal responsibilities in Shadow Realm. However, he was strangely proud that Sasha had been smart enough to suspect foul play.
Looking at the dead body, there was nothing left to give any clues as to the person’s identity. The features had melted, and the face was just a big pile of goo running down the sides of the visible skull. The rest of the body was just as…runny. And as with the other cases, he sensed no magic.
He heard Sasha sigh again. “The souls all feel fine. Nothing off about them, or traumatic. Usually when they die violently, the imprint of the last few minutes of suffering stay with the soul. Not with these. It’s as if they really didn’t see it coming. Didn’t feel it.”
“Thank fuck for small favors.” He glanced at her. “You can collect the soul now.”
Sasha’s eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. He almost smiled. He could have rephrased that, made it more of a suggestion than an order. But, truth be told, he enjoyed pissing her off. More than he probably should. It was a strange reaction he seemed to have only with Sasha. Maybe it was his way of getting her to notice him. He’d known Sasha so long, centuries, and it felt as if the only time they really interacted was when they were arguing over something work related. He enjoyed those moments, so sue him.
When they weren’t subtly flirting, it was so easy to get her fired up. Razor found her adorable. He could ask her what the weather was like, and he’d still succeed in pissing her off.
“Such an asshole,” she muttered as she leaned down, her hand hovering over the chest of the body. She then pulled out a small glittering ball of light, which vanished an instant later.
Sasha met his eyes. “No need to thank me, by the way,” she said sarcastically. “It’s not like I went out of my way to bring my findings to you or anything.”
Razor’s lips twitched. She was right, of course. As a Reaper, her only responsibility was guiding the souls to where they needed to go. She had taken time out of her job to bring these deaths to his attention.
“Thank you, Sasha,” he conceded, then quickly tore his gaze away before he was tempted to tell her how pretty he thought she was.
“Make sure you dry clean my sweatshirt before returning it. I’m allergic to dog hair,” she added. “And, FYI, I have seen better. Have the hot pictures to prove it. Your dick isn’t that nice. Bye, Razor.” She disappeared, leaving Razor with his head tossed back, laughing his ass off.
Maybe he was reading too much into it, but it sounded like she thought his dick was at least a little bit nice.
Some hours later, as the cleaning crews packed up, Razor walked through the gateway that could be accessed only by those of Shadow Realm who had the special magical tattoo marking them as its citizens. This one would take him to Sector One, what he considered his home turf. He dressed in the jeans and T-shirt one of the cleaners had found for him, then rubbed his tired eyes. He had court in twenty minutes, which meant he wasn’t going to get sleep anytime soon. The downside of being responsible for the streets of Shadow Realm was that he had to arbitrate disputes occasionally. Not all of them, thank fuck, but the ones that couldn’t be resolved by his chain of command. So, once a week, he made his way to the building where he held court and listened to the cases, made the fairest calling he could, and everyone was happy. Until someone wasn’t. It was a never-ending cycle. But still, he loved his job. Most of the time.
Lately though, with the mysterious bodies popping up around Shadow Realm, he was less than pleased that now he had another job to add to the list. He had decided to monitor this particular clean up because he had the suspicion that this could be some kind of spreadable disease. He hadn’t considered it before only because Others were immune to human disease, and any Underworld diseases had long been wiped out.
And since the city cleaners were also responsible for handling and disposing of bodies, he had informed them that from now on, all these types of cases would be collected and taken to the incinerators immediately. He didn’t want to risk one of the cleaners deciding to deliver the dead meat to one of the…special sections of Shadow Realm.
If this, indeed, was some kind of epidemic, they needed to have all the facts before making it public. Besides, Razor himself hadn’t a single fucking clue what was causing the melting bodies. Just in case it was some sort of communicable disease, all the cleaning crews wore special protective suits. If they suspected he wasn’t telling them everything, they hadn’t made any comments about it. Which meant they could keep their jobs.
Stepping out of the gateway, he emerged a few blocks from the courthouse. He sighed in exhaustion as he saw the line of citizens who awaited his arrival and his judgment.
…
“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Sasha stared at the water-stained ceiling above her bed, hoping and praying she was somehow mistaken.
But then another jolt of urgency sizzled through her body. She was being Called to collect a soul.
“Motherfucker.” She growled as she flung the sheets off and got out of bed. The same bed she’d only just lain down on, oh…two minutes ago.
She’d had a long, stressful day of meeting with the two other Reapers she worked with in Shadow Realm, taking care of souls, meeting with contacts she had throughout the streets, breaking up fights between street kids too young to be fighting, and too many other things. And now that she’d finally found a precious moment of peace to attempt to get some sleep, she’d received the Call that all Reapers were familiar with: the Call that drew her to a place of death so that she could collect the soul and get it to its next destination.
She loved being a Reaper. Most days. Today was not one of those days.
Sasha grabbed clean clothes and threw them on with probably more aggression than necessary. She couldn’t help it if lack of sleep made her grumpy. All she could hope for at this point was no one else was at the scene of the death so she could grab the soul and get right back into bed within minutes.
Transporting to the site of the Call was as simple as allowing the power of the Call to overtake her. Like accepting a call on a cell phone, all she had to do was mentally accept and answer the Call, and she was automatically transported to the soul, or close enough nearby.
One second, she was in her bedroom, and the next, she was standing in a filthy alley, actually not too far from where she lived. As she walked forward towards where she felt the poor soul, her heart sank when she spotted another melted body. Though identifying the person was impossible, she felt responsible for another death in the Sector she considered her home.
She stopped next to the body and knelt down, looking the body over for any possible clues as to who was murdering so many people all over Shadow Realm, how, and why. Earlier today, she’d told her fellow Reapers that these deaths were more than a little suspicious, and she’d been expecting complete agreement. What she’d gotten was a stupid argument instead. It seemed she was alone in thinking something was up. She rubbed her temples. Well, her and that insufferable Hellhound, Razor. But she didn’t need to go there. That they agreed on something was enough of a shock.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” his deep voice drawled from behind her.
Fuck me. Really?
Sasha groaned and let her head drop. She didn’t need to be distracted by Razor right now. As if her thoughts alone had summoned him, he stroll
ed over to the body and to her, his shit-kickers visible out of the corner of her eye.
“What are you doing here, Hellhound?” Sasha kept her gaze on the body, but she could practically feel him bristle at her tone. And probably the fact that she’d called him Hellhound instead of his name. That always seemed to annoy him, which was why she did it so often.
“No pleasantries, huh?” His voice was low, unhurried. “And here I thought we worked so well together the other night.”
Sasha chuckled mirthlessly and shot down that idea quickly. “Yeah, no. We don’t work well together. We don’t work together, period. I went out of my way to give you information so we could both do our jobs a little better, and you practically patted me on the head like a child. Now, unless you have anything else to say to me, get the hell out of my way.”
Sasha pushed herself to her feet and glared at him. Despite the fact that she was tall, she still had to look up at him. He was actually fully clothed today in a dark green T-shirt tucked into the waistband of his black pants, and well-worn boots that ended right below his knees. A beat-up leather jacket fit his torso perfectly. When he brought his hands out from the pockets of the jacket, she noticed his fingerless leather gloves. None of that hid how solidly built or how lethal he was. Everything about him was controlled, but the air of danger that lurked under the surface drew her like a moth to the flame. He wasn’t your run-of-the-mill good-looking guy. Hell, she wouldn’t even call him handsome. But he was damn eye catching. She couldn’t even pinpoint exactly why she found him so attractive. He was just…magnetic, and charming without coming off fake. Sarcastic, funny, and just slightly cocky made up the rest of the dangerous cocktail of all things Sasha liked.
Which was why she had to kill her interest in him before it even showed itself.
She didn’t know what it was about him, but he just brought something out in her that was unfamiliar, and unwelcome. As a result, she defaulted to using apathy and even aggression towards him as her defense. They argued over nothing just for the sake of arguing with each other. Sometimes it was actually a little bit fun. Other times, she wondered if she was being an outright bitch or had gone too far. But mostly, she didn’t care, because she would never allow herself to feel anything close to interest for him. She couldn’t.
Walking around him, the rebellious part of her made sure to check him with her shoulder. Sasha proceeded to try to appear unaffected as she looked around the melted body. Not that she had any business looking for evidence, but dammit, the masculine, smoky scent she could recognize anywhere as purely Razor had begun to fill her head with a not unpleasant buzz, and she’d needed to get away.
He inhaled sharply, and her gaze flicked back to his. His gaze pierced her, and she could have sworn blue fire flickered in his eyes for a second. Then his tongue darted out to touch his top lip, and Sasha swallowed.
“I could think of a few things to say to you. But I’m afraid I’ll get a punch to the neck if I voice them,” he said.
“You’re not wrong. Can I finish up now?”
“Of course.”
Sasha narrowed her eyes to slits, wondering about his tone. But his dark, black eyes only peered through her. She couldn’t help sweeping her gaze down, to his full lips, then to his neck, where she could just make out his pulse beating strongly under a tattoo of a vine. She heard a quick inhalation, and saw his nostrils flare.
Hellhounds had one of the greatest senses of smell of any species she knew. She was quick to make sure any reaction her body was having to him was completely hidden, as well as the conflicted and confusing emotions she always had around this particular Hellhound.
Now ignoring him as much as she could, Sasha took a few clearing breaths before collecting the soul and absorbing it into her body. Reapers had the ability to kind of…share their body with the souls they were collecting in the time between collection and passing it off to the next step.
“Do you have any theories?” he asked her, apparently all business now.
Sasha straightened and walked back over to him. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen anything like this before in my life. And believe me, I’ve seen some gruesome shit. Look familiar to you?”
“No.” He growled, clearly frustrated by that. “My gut is telling me there’s some bastardization of magic involved with these murders, but I can’t feel a damn thing magical about them. Not a whiff of magic on any of the bodies.” He reached into a pocket, his movements quick and automatic as he brought out a hand-rolled cigarette and lit it. It was predictable behavior for whenever Razor was frustrated, tense, or deep in thought. He inhaled deeply, and on his exhale, the exotic scent of the herb he smoked swirled around her.
As far as she was aware, no one else in Shadow Realm smoked whatever he smoked, which made it a scent she would always associate with him and him alone. She didn’t know what the herb was, but there was no foul scent of anything tainting the pure herb, no chemicals or tobacco to corrupt it. When he smoked, it was often with his eyes staring off at nothing while he sorted through his thoughts. His fingers tended to fiddle with the smoke, idly moving it from between his index and middle fingers to pinch between his index and thumb, rolling the blunt slowly in his fingers. She knew he wasn’t aware of it, nor of her watching, which meant she always used that time to openly study him.
She’d also be lying if she said she didn’t find the whole thing kinda hot.
“…Sasha?”
“What?” she snapped a little too quickly, realizing Razor had caught her staring.
The bastard knew it, too. Amusement filled his features as he strolled back up to her, his gaze practically caressing her. “What were you just thinking about, pretty girl?”
Every time he called her that name, she ground her teeth. Not because she hated it, but because after centuries of him playfully giving her the nickname, she’d started to find it kind of…charming.
“Shooting you,” she responded smoothly.
He laughed, the sound rich and smoky. “Liar. Were you disappointed to see me in clothes today?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. I don’t need to see your dick again, thanks.” Even if it had been nice to look at for the brief moment she’d allowed herself.
“I wouldn’t say no if you did, though.” He grinned, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. But there was something in his gaze that said he really hoped she took him up on his offer.
Sasha was so close to spilling it. So close to begging him not to tempt her with such a confession. She held off, but barely. And despite herself, she found her eyes following the movement of his hand as he brought the blunt to his lips.
What the hell was wrong with her? Goddess. Usually, she was so good that he never even got a hint of her attraction. She really needed to stop mooning over him so much. Yeah, sure, he was pretty to look at, and also kinda fun. But Sasha would have to pass. She wasn’t interested in anything more complicated than admiring him from afar as a good-looking man.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she found herself saying instead of her usual no thanks. She cursed herself inwardly.
The smile he flashed sent a shiver dancing up her spine, and she knew she had to get out of there. Now. Before she did anything stupid, like punch him to hide how much the idea of giving in just this one time was tempting her. Or worse, let him see how badly she craved physical contact with someone, anyone, really. And he was looking really good right now. Warm, and big, and safe…
Nope. Don’t even fucking go there, girl.
Sasha snarled up at him. “I’m done here. Get out of my way, Hellhound.”
His smile vanished, and a small, concerned frown formed between his brows as he took a step towards her.
Sasha instantly took a step back. “Stay over there, Razor.”
He stopped mid-step, then said her name as if he knew the sudden change in her was an excuse to keep him, everyone, at a distance. Goddess, did the guy read everybody this well?
The need to physically run a
way was strong. She didn’t think he was close to discovering that she was, despite everything, attracted to him, but she couldn’t risk him even considering the possibility. The thing was, he would court her. Sasha could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her. She knew him better than he probably thought. He wasn’t like his brother Night, who had no inhibitions, a rake with the face of a fallen angel. No, Razor was choosy, but no less potent in his seduction methods. If he ever really set out to seduce her, Sasha couldn’t say that she would be able to resist. And that was what fueled her determination to keep far, far away from this particular man.
A sound softer than her anger or Razor’s concern and confusion drew her gaze beyond him to the dead body she’d pulled the soul from. He was saying something now—soft words that Sasha wasn’t listening to. She froze when the body that should have been unmoving began to clumsily push itself to its feet. Then it moved towards them alarmingly quickly for a dead body.
She realized he was still attempting to figure out her sudden change, and she snapped out sharply, “Razor.”
Everything seemed to slow down.
She reached for the gun she always carried, the one she used as an extension of her own arm—and the same gun she hadn’t grabbed because she’d been dragged out of bed so quickly.
Her breath puffed out in a cloud of steam as she considered the remaining options—none of which were good.
“Sasha, I…” Razor’s lips moved, but she didn’t hear him. Her gaze moved down, landing on the rifle he never went anywhere without.
Realizing she was out of time, she took a gamble.
She cut him off by reaching around him, her hand settling snugly on the handle of his beloved rifle. Her fingers fit comfortably against the old leather strips he’d wound around the stock and butt of the gun. When her grip tightened, the leather creaked in the silence of the lengthened moment.
With one last exhale as she focused on the reanimated corpse nearing them, Sasha pulled the rifle out of his holster and held it steady next to his shoulder. She squeezed the trigger and took the shot without hesitation. The bullet ripped through the soft skull, blood and brain splattering everywhere. The body jerked before collapsing to the ground, once again lifeless.