by Cecy Robson
Chapter Eleven
Death does many things, like frighten, mesmerize, and entrap you refusing to let go. Ryker, true to his nature, manages all at once and shockingly so. He also does a stellar job of making me blush.
Jane offers an approving nod, seemingly undisturbed by how easily Ryker tore through her binding spell. Bill’s gaze cuts from her to us. “Dismiss your dragons, Sebastian.”
The air surrounding Mr. Sebastian alters from irritated, to furious, to eerily calm. “Leave us,” he says.
The dragons pile out in line formation, well, once they free their buddy from the cocoon Jane wrapped him in. He shrugs loose from the webbing, perturbed and naked. His clothes lay in tatters on the floor, ripped to pieces from the abrupt transformation.
Tone butt cheeks see-saw up and down as the dragon and his friends march toward the elevator in obedient silence. Frankie stays behind. When he stepped up to defend me, he made it clear no one, not even his boss, would order him around.
Jane holds out a hand, gesturing for all to take their seats. Ryker releases me only once everyone settles. “I prefer to stand,” he says.
“Me, too,” I agree. That’s a lie. My knees are rattling hard enough that everyone can hear. I just want to stand in solidarity with Ryker. Grim Reaper or not, he protected me.
Bill sits slowly, steepling his fingers as he leans forward. “You said Olivia summoned you. What did you mean by that?”
Ryker squares his jaw, remaining guarded. “There are times I can sense thoughts, provided they’re strong enough. It’s an ability that’s sporadic at best.” He waits and adds, “For some reason, I hear Olivia’s thoughts more.”
I cover my face, dreading the “thoughts” he might have latched onto.
Ryker examines me closely, his face heating though his tone maintains that vigilant edge. “In Fae, my senses alerted me when someone passed. It’s how I knew I was needed. The body would call me to claim the soul. The night of the attack, Olivia called me to her.”
“She called you?” Bill repeats slowly.
“Yes,” Ryker answers. “Or at the very least, had strong thoughts of me.”
He cocks his chin at the return of my blush. Did he have to be so, so . . . honest? And while we’re at it, couldn’t he have picked a better choice of words? Or maybe, lied about how the call was made?
The “strong thoughts” I had didn’t initially pertain to life and death. They were about Ryker’s body tight against mine. Had he felt me, too? Or did he experience just traces? I’m hoping for the latter and tried to spin it. “I was angry at you for taking that new case.” And imagining your hips grinding against me while your mouth worked me like you owned me.
I obviously didn’t add the last part. I wince anyway, hoping that much wasn’t inferred by his superpowers.
He nods. “The feelings I sensed in you were forceful and dominant.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I mutter.
He inspects me. So, does everyone else. Ryker continues slowly. “They magnified with your fear. It drove them to the surface.”
My lips part as I gasp. “You knew I was in trouble.”
“Yes. But the connection that drew me faded in and out. I couldn’t place your exact location,” Ryker explains. “It was only when I remembered where you were going that I was able to find you.”
Ryker’s attention returns to the others. Bill’s wariness surprisingly lessens. “Did you know the Cù-Sìth would be there?” Bill asks.
“No. I can sense other forms of Death within a small radius. But I had no idea the danger Olivia was in until I arrived.”
I can’t believe it. Ryker charged to my rescue, knowing my life was in danger even after I’d spent a year being rude to him. That afternoon alone I behaved especially harsh, refusing to show him even an ounce of respect despite witnessing his kindness.
The guilt makes me want to crawl beneath the table. Ryker came for me. He fought off the hounds. He risked his life. And every instinct I possess screams he’d do it again.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “For searching for me and for not abandoning me, even when you saw what I was up against.” My hand reaches for his. All I manage is to brush his fist with my fingertips. I realize this is unexpected and bold on my part. He’s not my lover and I should hesitate to call Death my friend.
My fingers curl inward when he returns to analyze me like a puzzle he can’t figure out. “You told me you’re not like the others. I think I believe you.” I glance around, realizing I may not be alone. “Will you tell us what kind of Death you are?”
Ryker focuses on the hand that touched him. “I’m the Ankou.”
Everyone freezes. We collectively stop breathing except for Ryker. His chest rises and falls in harsh movements, waiting for us to pass judgement.
It’s Bill who finally speaks. “The King of Dead,” he articulates slowly.
Ryker nods. It’s all I can do not to place my head between my knees. My girl Jane is kind enough to materialize a chair behind me when my knees of steel give out. She materializes beside me in her own chair, her small feet dangling above the floor and her hand steadying me.
“Th-thanks,” I stammer, gripping the armrest and trying to relax my breathing. Manic Monday just nose-dived into suckdom.
Bill drums his fingers against the table. He knows what the Ankou is. Still, he takes his time absorbing this knowledge before verbalizing it. “You died at the last hour, on the last day of the year?” Ryker nods. “And therefore, assigned the duty of carrying souls into the afterlife.”
“A year,” Jane croaks.
Bill swipes at his face. “She’s right. Your duty as the Ankou lasts only a year. A successor is said to replace you at the end of your term and carry your soul away as his first task. How is it possible you still remain?”
Ryker adjusts his grip on his scythe. “I died a hundred years ago in Fae, around the time Death began to hunt the living. Few died of natural causes during my months of service. By the end of the year, no souls remained for me to attend to.”
“So, you had no one to replace you and no one to take you into the afterlife,” I finish for him.
Ryker’s jaw tightens at the sound of my quivering voice. “I’ve been alone for a hundred years, Olivia, waiting for an opportunity to find my peace. When Death destroyed Fae, I was forced to enter this realm.” He stops moving. “And here I remain.”
Bill swears beneath his breath. Like me, he likely expected a few bombshells, not back-to-back missal airstrikes with a nuclear bomb drop for an encore. “Can another replace you?” he asks.
“The chance of a surrogate is almost impossible given how the Ankou is selected.” Ryker shakes his head. “And if this realm has taught me anything, it’s that the rules don’t apply the same way they do in Fae.” He sighs, appearing to look into the distance. “I’ve come to accept there will be no substitute.”
I stare at my palms, unable to bear the heartbreak clouding Ryker’s typically self-assured tone. I’ve spent my life mostly alone. Mostly. I had my father for a while, my sisters and mother a little longer. When my brother ditched me in college, I found Dahlia. But I always had someone. For a century, Ryker has walked alone.
“How do you eat?” Mr. Sebastian asks.
My head jerks up by the suspicion his voice carries and with morbid curiosity. Ryker is Death. How does he eat?
“I’d like to know as well,” Bill agrees. He scratches the whiskers of his thickening goatee. “Earth’s magic had a damaging effect on our forms of Death. They no longer hunt Fae for pleasure or sport, they need to consume our souls to soothe the agony that accompanies their hunger. As the Ankou, are you the exception?”
Everyone tenses, waiting for Ryker’s response. I dig my nails into the arms of my chair, silently begging him to say he isn’t capable of devouring souls like the wretched Cù-Sìth.
“I am not the exception,” Ryker responds.
No one stirs. Ryker has a gift for rendering
folks speechless and immobile. If it weren’t for the mass of regret weighing tangibly against his shoulders, I would bolt from the room screaming.
“Jesus,” Frankie mutters. He takes a step back, no longer excited to rush to his defense.
“How do you choose them?” I didn’t realize I spoke aloud until every face in the room meets mine.
The rumble in Ryker’s voice rocks the room. “Being a criminal defense attorney has its advantages. I meet all sorts of deserving souls to sate my hunger.”
My jaw crashes down to my toes. “Holy shit. You’re eating the clients!” He doesn’t answer. I suppose his silence is answer enough.
I stand, pointing, remembering . . . sliced in half, from left shoulder to right hip, clean cut. “You killed Chandler―Brielle’s husband―with your . . .” I swallowed hard as my widening eyes dart along the length of Ryker’s long curved blade.
Bill surprises me by giving Ryker his back. He stares out the window. “The senator’s son, the one accused of hurting that young child, he died shortly after his acquittal in a motor vehicle accident.” His spine stiffens. “I must ask, were you the cause?”
Ryker trains his ice blue gaze on me. “Yes.”
Why he picked me to look at when he answers is beyond me. I don’t run as my mind insists I should. I don’t cower, like my body urges. My heart takes precedent and it’s busy breaking. Ryker has no choice but to trudge through his existence. He eats souls. Souls. Not for pleasure, for him, there’s no other choice. In his place, I would’ve gone mad.
“Chandler’s soul will last me another few weeks,” he admits.
“And then what?” Mr. Sebastian asks, his thick white brows furrowing tight with displeasure.
Ryker glares at him. Oh, look, Mr. Sebastian quickly recoils. “The others I’ve represented will meet me again in time. Until then, I find others through my interaction with the Prosecutors office.”
“You’re taking out human criminals.” Frankie lets out a long whistle. “That’s how you eat.”
“No. It’s how I survive without pain,” Ryker interjects, his throaty voice sharp. “I assure you, it comes at a price.”
Jane angles her chin, understanding. Good for her. I can barely keep from falling over. Shock and compassion battle it out in my brain, with shock swinging hard to win. I wring my hands. There’s something I need to know. Ryker’s response will determine whether he is my friend or my enemy.
“The night Brielle was killed, you left the office.” Ryker straightens. He already knows the question ready to tear from my lips. “Did you—She wasn’t a bad person, just damaged. She didn’t deserve . . .”
“I carried her soul into the afterlife,” he answers quietly. “I found her with the same innate trait passed to me when I became the Ankou. Chandler was hovering over her body, screaming at her and accusing her of making him kill her.”
“Okay . . . Okay,” I say. Ryker’s eyes widen when I meet him with a grateful smile. “Thank you for showing her mercy.”
“Why did you?” Mr. Sebastian asks. He surprises me by walking to Ryker’s side, examining him with newfound curiosity all the while keeping his distance. “Humans have their own species of Death to transport them.”
Ryker passes his scythe into his left hand and lowers it, so the handle hangs parallel to the floor. “You’re not going to like what I have to say.”
“Probably not,” Bill agrees.
He waits, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve determined that Fae versions of Death will soon target human souls. Their mounting numbers, despite the small amount of Fae in the Tri-State area, lead me to believe they’re evolving. I didn’t want to chance them taking Brielle’s soul, given how they swarmed the firm last month. Their lair is close to here. I just can’t pinpoint the exact location.”
Bill turns from the window. “You sensed their presence that day they came after me?”
“Yes, but for some reason, they can’t always sense me, and I can’t always distinguish between Fae and human.” He jerks his chin in Bill’s direction. “Like you mentioned, Earth’s realm has affected our magic.”
“Which explains why we didn’t sense you either,” Bill reasons.
“Exactly,” Ryker agrees.
Bill holds out a hand. “Just so we’re clear, you’re the Ankou. Who feeds off souls?” Ryker answers by not answering. “How did you come to us? It’s no coincidence that you’re here of all places, especially if you claim you can’t differentiate Fae from humans.”
“I’m here because of Olivia.”
Well, isn’t that a kick to the face I didn’t need? “What?”
Ryker lowers his defenses. It’s brief but I see it as clearly as the sun beaming through the wall of windows. He replies as if the world doesn’t exist, except for us. “I think you attract Death, Olivia. Every decision I’ve made since crossing into this realm―attending law school, working at this firm―have led me to you.” The intensity in his blue eyes flare. “Except I’m not the only one. Whatever draws me, also lures Cathasach and the others.”
I open and close my mouth several times. Of all the things he could have said, nothing disturbs me more. Except he has a point. All the times I’ve encountered Death can’t be by chance. Could I have led them to my family . . . and Dahlia?
“Life,” Jane croaks, her beady black irises brimming with sadness.
Bill stiffens. “By the stars,” he gasps. “It must be so.”
“What is it?” Ryker asks. When no one answers, the air around him crackles with mounting fury. “You’re not the only one seeking answers and I’ve more than complied!”
“You have.” Bill looks to Jane. She blinks once, allowing Bill to continue, except he doesn’t seem ready to explain. “What I’m about to share, cannot leave this room. Olivia’s very existence depends on it.”
Ryker and the dragons cut their gazes toward me before bowing their heads in agreement. I fall as still as stone, not knowing what Bill will say and just as terrified.
Bill releases a long hesitant breath, his gaze dulling as if he’s committing an unpardonable sin. “Forgive me, Livvie,” he says.
“Just say it,” I tell him just as quietly.
He avoids looking at me as he explains. “Jane believes Olivia is immune to Death.”
Ryker leans back on heels. “I concluded as much when I saw her effect on the Cù-Sìth. What I don’t understand is how.” He grinds his teeth when Bill says nothing more. “Just tell me.”
Bill’s anger and resentment matches Ryker’s. “Just as you’re Death, Olivia is Life. Your kind carries the darkness which silences every last breath and crumbles every stalk. She carries the light of every creature ever born, flower bloomed, air breathed.” He faces me then. “Olivia is Life, it is the only perceivable explanation.”
Ryker responds as if slapped. “How is this possible?”
“The same way it’s possible you and the others exist,” Bill answers. “This realm maintains a delicate balance. Olivia falls on one side of the scale.”
And more than a dozen species of Death―monsters eager to harm me while I stand alone—wait on the other side. Tears leak down my cheeks. This isn’t a burden I can bare or attention I desire. “Jane?” I ask.
She nods once, clutching my hand tighter. No Fae on Earth knows more than Jane. She wouldn’t lie to me or dream up possibilities that weren’t true. Jane is my friend. And the being who just predicted my doom.
“Strength,” she croaks.
Jane wants me to be strong. I want her to take it all back. More tears fall. This can’t be happening to me.
Heavy boots shuffle along the tile. Ryker kneels beside me and places my hand in his. “Olivia, look at me.”
I shake my head, withdrawing my hand from Jane’s to cover my eyes and soothe their growing sting. For some reason, I don’t release Ryker. Perhaps I need to feel close to Death. It does remain my inevitable end.
“Beag tuar ceatha, please look at me.”
&n
bsp; I choke out a laugh through my tears. Ryker called me “little rainbow.” It takes me a moment to meet his mesmerizing gaze.
Every line on his handsome face is as rigid as his jaw and stance. He breathes danger and destruction yet despite his ire, he keeps his voice and gaze tender. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs. “I swear, I will protect you.”
Bill marches to us, his steps quick, placing a shielding hand at my shoulder. “You barely know her. Why would you make her such a promise?”
Ryker stands to meet him. “If what you say is true, Olivia possesses the power to defeat Death.”
“We know,” Bill answers gruffly.
“But she doesn’t know how to use that power,” Ryker answers just as harshly. “I do. I can teach her to fight and destroy every form of Death that threatens the Fae.” His focus returns to me. “In doing so, she can free the entombed souls.”
“And what do you ask for in exchange?” Bill demands, his voice vibrating with distrust. “Death doesn’t bargain without receiving something in return.”
The coldness in Ryker’s stare solidifies into an icy tundra. “If by some miracle we can pull this off and defeat Death, I want Olivia to kill me. She alone can help me find
my peace.”
Chapter Twelve
I slump to the floor. In my defense, I don’t lose consciousness. And I only drool a tiny bit. Thankfully, good ‘ol Jane is there to help a sister out. She materializes a paper bag I can breathe in to. Within seconds . . . okay, not really. Less than ten minutes later, I’m feeling more positive about the whole “freeing the damned souls from the murderous Reapers and killing the hot guy who helps” pitch. Okay. Maybe not.
Ryker falls to one knee beside me. I use the opportunity to smack him in the shoulder with the paper bag. “Are you out of your mind?”
He frowns as if appalled by my rudeness. Like, I’m the unreasonable one here. “It’s a fair request,” he counters.
“No. It’s not.” I resume my bag breathing, glaring and muttering obscenities deep within my paper protection.