Reap & Reveal (The Reaper Series Book 3) (27 page)

“Not exactly.”

Nate closed the distance between him and the angel, and pushed him back and against the brick wall of an abandoned pub, a mustard colored aura seeping from him in waves.

“For once. Say it clearly. What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?”

The angel drew in a long, harsh breath then exhaled, looking as though he’d enjoy nothing more than to smite Nate into smoke. Nate wondered why it hadn’t already happened. Rashnu wasn’t known for his patience. “It means that her soul is in Hell, but it hasn’t been released. It’s still entrapped, and as of this moment, it has been untainted by Hell. Her soul is still pure.”

Nate eased his grip and allowed the angel to collect himself. “Pure enough to be reinsouled?”

Rashnu shook his head. “No. It’s been too long. Her body will have failed beyond healing after this long. If she even has a body any longer.”

“So you don’t know where she is?”

“Her soul? Yes, it is as I told you. We’ve known for years.”

“Her body.”

“We are in the business of tracking souls, not their shells. Do not build up false hope, Nate. Even with your unnatural skills, you won’t be able to reinsoul your mother.”

“Maybe not, but her soul could be sorted to Heaven if it were recovered now?”

Rashnu tugged at the hem of his shirt, straightening his rumpled clothing. “If that is its intended location…yes. In its current condition… it would be
possible
.”

The first sounds of real conflict echoed down the alley from one street over. Bo barked and raced toward the action.

“We’re not finished here, angel.”

“I’ve no doubt.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Maeve’s head pounded as they reached the action on Starnes Street. Ouriel walked down the center of the street, exuding an orange aura that was ensnaring a group of shambling wanders in its metaphysical web, then vanished into Purgatory. Dead bodies littered the street and sirens wailed in the distance. The human officers were spread thin across the vast city as chaos reigned everywhere.

Deacon followed behind him, vacuuming up demons as they streamed forth from the fallen bodies.

Maeve’s head had been killing her since they left the Authority compound and now nausea began to roll up from her stomach, lodging in her throat and forming a hard lump there. The streetlights melted in her vision from crisp light to muted halos, and her hands tingled from her wrists to the tips of her fingers. She gripped her scythe tighter.

She didn’t have time for this shit.

She counted back the hours since she’d last eaten. Eighteen? Breakfast with Nate’s family?

Had that really only happened yesterday morning?

She continued forward, moving one foot in front of the other, but couldn’t concentrate on anything but the strange feeling in her body. Coming to a stop, she shut her eyes. A surge of energy coursed through her body and an aura began to manifest around her against her will. She could feel it begin, but was helpless to control its progress and inevitable release. White light exploded behind her eyelids and she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut.

Fear charged inside her. She knew this feeling. The white light. The pain.

This was the energy that had killed her brother.

Terrified that she might not be able to contain it, she fell to her knees behind Nate, her scythe clattering to the pavement as she struggled to hold herself together and tamp down the growing storm inside her.

Something had triggered this reaction. Too bad she wasn’t sure what.

Forcing her eyes opened, she watched in a pain-blurred haze as Samkiel continued to gather the wanderers for transport. Unexpectedly, grey streams began to rise from the fallen bodies still on the street and others rounded the end of the alley and streamed toward them.

Uncollected souls?

She clutched at her head, desperate to slow the surge of power. To flash. To get away from here.

Away from Nate.

Her poisonous energy consumed her as she rocked herself on the pavement.

“Maeve!” Nate knelt by her side and reached for her.

She scrambled away. “No! Don’t touch me!”

“Maeve, what’s wrong! What’s happening?”

Her skin was on fire as energy crept beneath its surface, barely contained within her body.

“Rashnu, help her! What’s happening to her?”

Rashnu looked down at her, his right eyebrow rising in surprise before he looked back at Nate. “She’s actuating into a Valkyrie.”

Maeve heard his words, but couldn’t comprehend them. Another of Rashnu’s riddles?

Valkyrie? No. Impossible.

She’d been assured during her reaper training that her energy disability would prohibit such a thing from ever happening. She was defective.

The souls continued to stream from the bodies, several dozen of them now. They swirled down the street in a solid storm of activity. Certain she was about to pass out, Maeve pressed the heels of her hands to the sides of her forehead, trying to relieve the excruciating pressure building there.

The storm of souls stopped spinning, recalibrated and swarmed toward Maeve at an impossible speed. Striking her in the heart chakra with the full force of a blow, she fell back, her head cracking against the pavement as they streamed into her, filling her body.

This was the end.

As the souls penetrated her body, jockeying for position inside her, she said her mental goodbyes and made peace with her life. Accepted the end.

Maeve’s body shook with seizures as the souls continued their relentless swirling. There were too many, far too many. She reached for something solid to hold onto, both physically and mentally, afraid they would tear her to bits here in the street.

How many souls were there? Two—three—dozen?

Maeve’s hand made contact with something warm and familiar. Nate’s hand closed around hers, gripping it tightly. She tried to jerk away, but as he pushed his turquoise energy into her, filling her with his light, the souls began to settle down inside her.

The pain in her head subsided to a dull thud along her right temple, uncomfortable but tolerable. Nate whispered words of encouragement, but they were drowned out by the thunderous drubbing of her heart, which echoed in her ears.

She needed relief.

She needed the souls gone.

***

“What’s happening to her, Rashnu?” Nate held onto her hand, encouraging her to stay conscious and fight whatever was threatening her.

“She needs to ferry the souls to Purgatory.”

“I’ll take her,” Nate offered.

Deacon finally reached them. “What the hell are the three of you doing here? And who’s with Ruth?”

“Deacon, Ruth is missing.”

Deacon grabbed Nate’s collar and pushed him against the side of parked van. “What do you mean? She’s not in the compound anymore?” he growled.

“No. Camael took her. Rashnu was there, but he couldn’t stop him.”

“Because of your magical shield, I might interject,” Rashnu said.

“He’s been hiding inside of Bo. When Bo was injured trying to protect Ruth, Rashnu was flushed out. He’s been spying on us. We’ve got to find her. I can feel her. She’s in trouble…like before.”

“The baby? Is she having problems with the baby, too?” Deacon’s hands tightened and a mustard yellow aura leaked out around him.

“I’m don’t know, but I’m fearful for her.”

Deacon released Nate and fell on Rashnu with the sort of rage Nate felt percolating in his own heart and soul for the asshole. Deacon’s aura surrounded him in a cloud of fury. “Find her, Rashnu. Help us.”

“I can’t track her from here. If we retire to the reaper lounge, then perhaps I can make some inquiries.”

Deacon jabbed a finger into Rashnu’s chest punctuating each word. “You. Will. Find. Her. Alive.”

“We can hope.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Nate scooped Maeve into his arms and stood, her face pressed into his chest as her body continued to tremble with the weight of too many souls. Everything was spinning out of control: Camael, the demons, Ruth, Elaina, Rashnu, Maeve, not to mention the mass of humanity lost.… It seemed as if the world had already gone to Hell.

He dared to imagine what else could go wrong.

Then it did.

His phone buzzed before they flashed and he managed to fish it out of his pocket. Rosemary’s name appeared on his screen in a green bubble with a message that sunk his heart:
The coven is under attack.

What exactly was he supposed to do? Who could he save? Maeve? His mother? His adoptive parents? His sister?

He wasn’t even confident he could save himself at this point.

Rashnu’s two paths played out in his mind again, the drawings from his room, Maeve’s memories. Which was the right choice? Would the wrong one damn them all?

Nate was being torn apart at the seams.

Bo nudged at his elbow, urging him to flash.

The life in his hands…well, perhaps he could do something about.

He prayed everyone else could hold on a little longer.

They flashed to Purgatory.

***

Camael summoned his imps and demons to the bizarre compound he’d discovered beneath the ethereal glow of a powerful circle of protection. He commanded them to return Little Stevie and his bus-load of prisoners as well. The humans might come in handy yet again.

He’d scoured the countryside for miles after Elaina and the children vanished. How had he missed this place?

From his earlier vantage point on the mountain, he could see that the compound consisted of a small city, hidden by thousands of acres of national forest as well as the magical shield that covered it. Humans would be repelled by the magic if they somehow managed to wander this far into the woods.

The fact that the witches had taken such pains to conceal the place piqued his interest enough to temporarily sidetrack him. Something more than magic radiated from within its walls.

Something…familiar.

Anxiety bubbled up from deep inside him. Here he was…waiting for humans to do his bidding. It was getting ridiculous, this dependence on lesser beings. He hoped Rashnu was enjoying equal amounts of frustration on this plane. Even before Camael fell, his powers had been greatly diminished while on Earth.

He’d let his guard down to the point of stupidity back then. By the time he met Elaina, he was especially vulnerable. He had been searching for a guardian angel, who—it turned out—wasn’t lost at all. Earth had become the Florida retirement option of angels who wanted out of the rat race Heaven had become.

After two or three millennium, the repetitive nature of daily life wore on an angel. Camael could understand that well enough—once he realized there could be a different life for him, it became all he could think about.

Elaina had been searching for a similar change.

Humans liked to think such a meeting was fate, a predetermined future planned out by a great and powerful overseer with one’s best interests at heart. Complete bullshit, of course. Humans had free will. Sure there may have been an original master plan, but one diversion from the path, one different choice set the whole thing reeling into chaos.

Now he
was
the chaos.

And he had no more idealistic notions about fate, only action and its direct results. He was a creature who made things happen.

The first step was to send in his humans to break down the magical shield. Then he’d work on breaking the consecration of the grounds. An area this large wouldn’t take much—he’d simply let his human minions carve a path of destruction leading to the city center. Then he’d be free to investigate as the masses fled.

And they always fled.

This diversion would take time, but he was still near enough to his final staging ground that he could justify it. A chunk of flesh fell from his forearm. His host body was already deteriorating. He’d have to upgrade before tonight’s activities.

He had already chosen his next host, and as luck would have it, the bus pulled down the narrow lane just as the thought crossed Camael’s mind. Maybe there was such a thing as fate after all.

Camael smirked at his own foolishness.