by Cecy Robson
Ryker bows his head. “Olivia, there’s nothing for me here. Everything I held sacred was lost to me long ago.”
“Death has nothing to live for,” Jane croaks.
Ryker doesn’t respond. Yet, the sadness dimming his imposing stance corroborates Jane’s reasoning. He stands, lifting his scythe. “My true form died long ago, but my soul remains in this vessel, impatient to ascend into the afterlife. You can help me take that step.”
Frankie swears like the true New Yorker he is. He reaches for his smokes but thinks better of it. “What if doesn’t work? Say Olivia touches you and destroys your Ankou form. How do you know you won’t be stuck here?”
“I don’t. My hope is that the Reapers charged with carrying human souls will help me on. I’ve met my share. There are a few who are willing.”
“That’s assuming you and Olivia succeed in conquering Death,” Bill says. He sighs wearily. “I believe Olivia and the power she’s unearthed are this realm’s gift to us―the chance at freedom from those who hunt us. But I also recognize her vulnerability and your numbers. It’s very possible you won’t succeed.”
Every face in the room reflects Bill’s misgivings. “I’m not a fool,” Ryker says. “There is much Death and only two of us. But I’m a worthy opponent. The others know as much. With the proper tutelage, I hope to make Olivia just as formidable.” He motions to me. “If Olivia truly is Life, she’s stronger. Look at the Life that inhabits this realm. It gives her power. I can teach her to fight, and I can teach her to win. In time, she may be unstoppable.”
I suck on that bag like there’s candy sitting at the bottom. Me? Unstoppable? Clearly, they hadn’t seen me trip over the throw rug this morning.
A thought occurrs to me and I lower my paper bag. “Don’t you mean there are four of us? Those you summoned from the dance floor, could they help us as well?” My mind clings to the possibility that maybe we’re not so alone.
“Who?” Mr. Sebastian spits out. I almost forgot about Captain Cheery Pants.
Ryker is long done answering questions. His resentment strikes a match over each syllable. “Dugan and Phillip are the spirits of Scottish warriors assigned to serve me as the Ankou. They draw their strength from mine. Their presence leaches my power. I only summon them when desperate.”
No wonder he was drained following the fight. I crumble the bag and throw it to the side. “You’ve spoken to Earth’s Reapers?” He nods. “I hope you realize how creepy that sounds,” I add. “What did you do, discuss your end over a few beers?”
Ryker arches a brow. I think he finds me as hilarious as Mr. Sebastian. “We encounter each other from time to time. Earth’s Reapers aren’t afforded an afterlife. Many sympathize with my quest. Very few have accepted their fate.”
“You seriously trust these demented freaks?” I throw out a hand. “No offense.”
He’s ready to slice my head off. I just know it. His voice lowers to a whisper. I wouldn’t call it a friendly whisper. “If it means my peace, it’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
Frankie crosses his arms, like Ryker, he’s just a wall of muscle. “Why can’t they kill you? Why make Olivia do it? This little pixie doesn’t have it in her, man.”
Frankie’s right. The Cù-Sìth are one thing. They’ve hurt me and those I love. Ryker hasn’t done anything.
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Ryker asks. “Earth’s Reapers are not like Fae’s. They don’t cause death, they only see to those who succumb to it. And our forms of Death will devour what remains of my soul if given the chance.”
“This isn’t right,” Bill says. He’s returned to staring out across the Hudson. “Your request is not just. What makes you think Olivia will ever agree to this madness?”
“It’s not madness. It’s a fair exchange. We free all the trapped souls. And she frees me of this wretched existence. I know you can see it, Bill. Let Olivia see it, too.”
No one speaks, their minds grinding to a halt as loudly as mine. How has my life come to this?
Ryker kneels beside me, his voice quiet. “What are you thinking, beag tuar ceatha?”
“Don’t call me that,” I say, pushing away the strands of my technicolored hair. The motion doesn’t help much. Full and thick, my hair falls around my face as I lower my chin and tuck my legs beneath me. “You can’t refer to me as ‘little rainbow’ in one breath, then beg me to murder you in the next. It’s not right.” And it makes me sad.
Ryker places his hand gently on my shoulder. “This isn’t murder, Olivia. It’s mercy. It’s what I offered Brielle, and what I beg of you now.”
I hate the despair in his voice. For someone who looks strong and youthful, he seems so weak and exhausted. The speck of vulnerability doesn’t last. For his sake, I hope I’m the only one who notices. “Ryker, I don’t know if I can do this, any of it.”
My voice thickens with each word. I don’t want Ryker hurt. I also don’t want to be the cause of his pain. This is the same man who tended to the souls swarming the alley. They sought his help and he gave it to them, ignoring the injuries he endured following his brawl with soul eaters and saving me. Before that, he helped Brielle achieve the peace that had eluded her for so long. Peace, I note, that has eluded him even longer.
A century without family, or anyone he can call a friend. I don’t know how he’s managed.
“You can. Have faith.” His gaze searches mine. “I’ll help you through this. But then you must help me, Olivia, as only you can.”
I look at him and take in everything he offers. This is my chance to help him, my family, and Dahlia, the opportunity to fight back just as I’ve always wanted. I have the tools, and a master willing to teach me how to use them. I just don’t care for the price.
Something in me stirs. He senses it and helps me up from the floor. “I can’t guarantee the outcome,” he says. “But I promise to do everything in my power to keep you safe and to teach you to survive in my absence. If matters unravel beyond repair, and should I perish before you can help me, disappear. Do you hear me? Find the strongest talisman and hide. In time, even without me, you’ll find a way to avenge the Fae.”
I’m not sure I believe him, even as our gazes weld like melting steel. Can I do this? The Ankou before me insists I can. But what if he’s wrong?
Ryker lifts my hand and brushes my knuckles with his soft lips. “Will you help, little rainbow? Will you help me have my peace?”
Everyone waits for me to respond. I stand, unable to breathe, merely gaping at the way his warm breath teases my skin. I suppose those around me expect something profound, words that will rouse them into applause and cheers.
I don’t have it in me so, I simply speak the truth. “If this is what you truly want, I’ll do it for you. But you must do something more for me.”
He squares his shoulders, his hard exterior forming a protective aura around him. “What is it?”
“I want to be the one to kill Cathasach. When he’s dead, I want you to guide the souls of my family into the afterlife . . .”
Chapter Thirteen
The dragons return. One of them, the naked one, resumes his reptilian form and gulps down the contents of my spilled soup, including the container and lid. It must have been tasty.
Frankie helps me retrieve the items that spilled from my purse sans the tampons. Statement of fact: New York boyz avoid feminine products at all costs. I suppose it makes them go blind or grow hair on their palms.
Ryker, Bill, and Mr. Sebastian speak quietly. Jane interjects occasionally in one-word protests. They discuss my training, while it seems laughable, and my safety, which very much isn’t.
“The best way to hide is out in the open,” Ryker reasons. “Olivia should resume her duties here, preferably in the morning. I’ll work with her in the afternoons, evenings, and weekends in my apartment.”
“I’ll contribute to the costs of training Olivia,” Mr. Sebastian offers. “If it means ridding us of these damn hell hounds, I’ll give y
ou every last penny I have.”
“I’ll assure the firm keeps you and Olivia on salary,” Bill adds. He’s troubled. I can see it, only because I know him so well, just like I can see him doing his best to hide if from the others. “The Ancients have expressed their desire to help.”
“What about Marco?”
They look at me when I speak. Considering I’m Life and all, they forget I’m waiting mere feet from them. I don’t know if I should excuse it for worry, fear, or something else entirely. Regardless, I don’t like it.
“I’ll tell Marco you’re working on a special case,” Bill says, answering Ryker as if he asked. “And that Olivia will be assisting you. Jane, will you help facilitate his understanding?”
I blink back at Bill. He looks away, reaching for his phone.
Jane keeps her attention on Ryker. “Don’t hurt her,” she croaks.
Ryker holds firm to his scythe. “I’ll keep her safe. My home is warded and secure―”
“Not what I mean.” It’s the las thing Jane says. She shuffles toward the elevator, the hem of her long black dress dragging against the tile.
Frankie passes me my hairbrush. I’m not certain how long he held it before I finally notice. “You sure you want to do this, Livvie?” he asks.
“No,” I answer. “I only know that I have to make a choice.” It hurts to say her name and hurts me more to say it to Frankie. “I don’t want what happened to Dahlia to happen to anyone else. For that, I can’t run.”
We bow our heads. It’s not a silent tribute or anything we plan. It just happens, a brief moment to remember a sweet soul. Frankie takes my hands and squeezes them, he keeps his chin lowered and so do I. “If I can help in anyway, Livvie, call me. I’ve got you. I swear I’ll do whatever it takes.”
My hands fall when he releases them, feeling heavy. Frankie crosses the room, the other dragons shadowing him. They step into the elevator with him. He keeps his attention ahead. The others give him space, even Mr. Sebastian who positions himself at the very front. They’re not a single force. Not anymore.
As the doors shut, Frankie finally meets my gaze, anger and grief solidifying his already firm posture.
I miss him the moment he’s gone. I’m left with Bill and Ryker. Bill sighs. “When do you think she can start?”
Again, it’s as if I’m not there. “I don’t know,” I reply, bewildered by how he’s acting. “Whenever Ryker thinks it’s best, I imagine.”
“I suppose you’re correct,” Bill says. “Please, call me if you need me. I’ll be on my way.”
Bill walks to the elevator, not exactly rushing, yet, also not exactly overjoyed to stay. I watch him, with my mouth agape and uncertain what changed between us.
The elevator dings and Bill steps inside. Unlike Frankie, he doesn’t meet my face. Instead, he looks past me, to the wall of windows where Ryker stands.
Ryker scrutinizes Bill. It’s like I missed something between them, or maybe us. I almost ask Ryker about it, except it doesn’t feel right. Ryker saved my life, but Bill is my friend. At least, it’s what I think he still is.
Ryker eases to my side. “Let me take you lunch. We can discuss the details of your training and set goals. If you feel you’re ready, we can start as early as tomorrow.”
I glance at my bright fuchsia shoes. Savior of the Fae. That’s me. “The sooner we start, the better?”
Ryker takes in my shaky visage. His behemoth form towers over me. I peg him at least a foot and a half taller. My petite stature usually makes me the smallest person in the room. Next to him, and guessing what lies ahead, I feel miniscule, a cricket waiting for a careless foot to stomp its life out.
The coldness in his arctic eyes dim. “This is a lot for you to take in.”
“Mm,” I agree.
“If I could, I’d give you more time to absorb it all and come to terms with your destiny.”
“My destiny?” It starts off as a question yet, it’s not exactly how it ends. It’s more of a statement of fact. I just can’t wrap my mind around it. Not yet.
“Cathasach is aware of you, Olivia. He’ll actively hunt you. It’s only a matter of time.”
“He’s right, Olivia,” Bill says. “There’s not much time.”
I startle at Bill’s voice. I didn’t even notice him return. Ryker frowns, appearing equally bothered.
“We should head upstairs,” Bill says. “There’s much to be done.”
I follow behind him slowly. Bill seems more like himself, now, except the sudden shift in his demeanor is unsettling.
I step into the elevator with my gargoyle in glamour boss and the Grim Reaper Ankou. No, this doesn’t sound crazy or anything.
My focus travels up and I freeze. The curve of Ryker’s scythe dangles just above my head. One slice. That’s all it will take to split my head open and spill the contents of my brain in tiny chunks ―
I cough nervously, putting an abrupt halt to my thoughts. “Shouldn’t you . . .”
Midnight blue smoke churns from the staff, encasing Ryker. The elevator dings open and the doors part, revealing Ryker in full GQ mode, his mojo of death powerful enough to sharpen the collar of his dress shirt.
We step out with his hand resting against the small of my back. His solid and warm touch straightens my spine enough to hang a flag from. Another blush. At this point, what’s one more?
I turn around to catch Bill’s stare burning a hole through Ryker’s hand and into my back. He looks forward when he sees me. We’re going to have to have a talk. Now just isn’t the time.
“Aren’t you worried about the cameras?” I mutter to Ryker.
He almost smiles. “Death isn’t visible on film.”
Oddly enough, that makes sense.
Helen, the receptionist, widens her eyes and flashes a phony smile. Like Bill, she notices Ryker leading me forward. “Good morning, Mr. Scott. A little late this morning, aren’t we, Olivia?”
Bill’s typically smooth voice is as jagged as shattered flint. “Morning meeting, Helen. We were all in attendance.”
“Yes, Mr. Macgregor. Good morning, sir.” Helen was so captivated by Ryker’s display of affection, she hadn’t noticed Bill. Her attention returns to the stack of papers on her desk, collating them quickly as she rushes to assume the role of a diligent worker. Her acting skills are shoddy at best and even with Bill here, she can’t seem to keep her eyes off us.
I pushed a strand of pink hair behind my ear. “Feeling protective?” Sexy feels aside, it’s the best way to describe how he holds me.
“Excuse me?” Ryker catches himself and immediately drops his hand. “Forgive me. Perhaps I am.”
The sense of security his touch provided abandons me like a passing breeze. I didn’t realize the safety I felt until it left me. Without thinking, I clutch his arm. A mound of hard muscle greets me beneath his tailored suit. Death is a walking mass of stacked stone! If this is how he’ll expect my training to go, I’d better up my protein intake.
I squeeze again. Damn. Heat builds along my hand and between my breasts. He can’t be real. No one is this—
“Is something wrong?” he asks when I give yet another heartfelt squeeze.
“No. I just think we should censor our behavior in the office.”
“Is that why you’re squeezing my arm like a loaf of bread?” Ryker mutters, nodding to a junior associate as he passes.
Oh, no. Not a loaf of bread, big boy. I rip my hand off him. If I was any smoother, I’d slide across the tile. “Rumors spread quickly,” I say, as if I hadn’t just fondled him. “I don’t want to give anyone with the wrong impression of us.”
Ryker’s voice stiffens and his face flushes slightly. “Of course. It won’t happen again.”
I groan and cover my face, wishing my legs were longer so I could kick my own ass.
I start to apologize when Ryker turns rather abruptly into his office. Bill stomps forward to walk beside me instead of shadowing. We continue down the row of offices and cub
icles. I glance over my shoulder, wishing I hadn’t embarrassed him . . . and perhaps for different circumstances where I could welcome his touch.
“Don’t get attached, Olivia,” Bill rumbles. “He is Death and that is his fate. It doesn’t have to be yours.”
My focus stays ahead, mortification cooling the effects of Ryker’s contact. “I know, Bill. But he’s as human as the rest of us.”
“No, he’s not, Olivia.” He stops in front of my cubicle. “If you are to become everything we hope you are capable of, you must never forget what Ryker is or what his nature compels him to do. Do you understand me?”
Bill had assumed a fatherly role from the moment we met, and he learned of my past. I briefly questioned his behavior earlier. Now, all I see is the man who took me under his Gargoyle wing. Like a good father, he’s watching out for me, his family, and taking his role seriously. “I understand, Bill.”
His voice softens and his forlorn deportment returns. “We lost our dear Dahlia and countless others that night and we will lose many more before this madness reaches an end. I don’t want you among the fallen, Olivia.” He shakes his head, the weight of his worries encapsulating him at once. “Consider Ryker’s actions and intent every time you’re with him. You care deeply, it’s one of your many redeeming qualities. But this situation doesn’t call for your kindness or compassion, it demands your wit and strength. Think with your head and guard your heart at all costs.”
Bill is speaking as someone who wasn’t there that night and who didn’t see the side of Ryker I had experienced. That doesn’t mean I should ignore his warning or that I somehow know Ryker better than anyone.
“All right, Bill. I’ll be careful.” I adjust my purse closer against me, dreading my next question. “What will you tell everyone about Dahlia?”
Traces of guilt spread along Bill’s smooth skin. “An email went out last night informing the staff that Dahlia gave her notice and took a job out of state. The explanation while simple, is believable, and allows few questions.”