A Shadow in the Reaping by Brynne Weaver

Chapter 10

There's only one thing that's been going through my head since the Reaper left my room this morning:

Ediye is going to murder me.

It will be a justifiable killing. I deserve it. I've brought trouble to Bian's doorstep with the presence of the Reaper in her Inn, and Ediye is next. She has been my only immortal friend and ally since I went into hiding three centuries ago. I thought I'd put trouble far enough behind me to live close to her again. Evidently, I was wrong. And now that Ashen knows her name and that a connection exists between us, I have failed in keeping her safe from harm.

And now here we are...

...In Ashen's car...

...Driving to her house.

Motherfucker had broken into my room and packed my bag as I worked. Even the katana was already in his car, lying across the black leather of the rear seat.

This is a massive invasion of privacy, asshole, I had scribbled onto a fresh page. I shoved it in his face and pointed at asshole. Then at him. Then at asshole again. Since then, I have been working on a page of ASSHOLE in different fonts and sizes. I show him my progress periodically and he seems to take more amusement in my graphic design efforts than I intended. And by amusement, I mean there's almost, almost, a smirk on his smug Reaper face.

We stop for lunch halfway along our drive and I'm scowling and broody when I slump down in the seat across from Ashen with my notebook flipped to a fresh page and my pen in hand. There is a light in his eyes as he watches me, something akin to mirth. I want to punch it right off his beautiful face.

Ashen orders venison, I order black coffee, and we sit in simmering silence until the waitress brings a basket of warm bread to the table, eyeing my lunch companion as though he is a slightly terrifying yet intriguingly delicious menu item. When she leaves, Ashen sweeps a thick slab of butter across a piece of bread with a languid pass of his knife. I flip to the back of my book where I have started a collection of observations about my frenemy.

Note to self: Reaper likes butter. Must steal all the butter.

I give Ashen a saccharine smile and write a new message for him to read:

If you didn't want to give anyone the WRONG IMPRESSION, breaking into my room and kidnapping me for three days is just about the dumbest idea you could have, Reaper.

The Reaper gives the faintest trace of a smile and refocuses on adding more butter to his bread. "You seem very hung up on this comment I made. It's the second time you've referred to it. How interesting. Why?"

I write no response. I raise my coffee to my lips and blow across the surface just long enough for it to annoy him. He sighs, but there is a gleam in his skin, the radiance of mischief that he cannot hide.

"Not to worry, vampire. I mentioned to both Anna and Peter that you had an appointment out of town with a podiatrist for removal of persistent bunions. I am just being an honorable acquaintance and giving you a lift, since I was headed in that direction."

I roll my eyes and tap my pen on the notebook, watching as he keeps his gaze down on the bread as though he doesn't want me to see the amusement in his face. I decide to move along to more important questions:

How did you find Ediye?

"I am a Reaper. It's my job to find immortals," he says, then takes a bite of his bread with a look of self-satisfaction. As an immortal in hiding, I'm feeling a giant fucking wave of unease. He seems to sense my distress and sits back in his chair, watching me as he chews. He takes his time, drawing out my irritation. "When I left the other day, I went to speak with a warlock connection of mine. I wanted to see if there were any witches with no firm associations to local covens. Ediye was mentioned as a powerful, lone witch who keeps her distance from the others. You are a powerful, solitary vampire with the ability to cast spells. I surmised there was a connection. Your face confirmed it when I said her name."

I crinkle my nose in a question.

The Reaper shrugs and then leans forward on his forearms, his shirt pulling taut across his shoulders. "You have a very expressive face."

I tilt my head. That almost sounded like a compliment. Apparently, that thought is in my face too, because his eyes darken.

"It is a disadvantage for a vampire. You should work on that."

Nope, definitely not a compliment.

Well YOU should work on not being such a dickhead. And leave Ediye the fuck alone. This is none of her business,I write, spinning the notebook and sliding it across the table toward him.

"She has committed no crime. If she helps us find the apothecary who created the poison, she has nothing to fear from me."

I roll my eyes and give him a derisive snort.

"Besides, her home is on the way."

To where, my podiatrist? I write.

"To my corridor."

Your 'corridor'. That sounds lame. What if I don't want to go to your 'corridor'? It sounds cramped and uncomfortable.

"You have no choice, vampire. We are bound and that is one place I cannot go without you. We need more information about Semyon’s history. We need to understand what the connection is between you and the other vampires they have taken. There must be something I'm missing, and I need to find it if I'm going to stop them from making another hybrid."

There are questions I want to ask. Questions about what Ashen already knows, about the hybrid that the Reapers have supposedly found. But I'm also afraid to ask. I'm afraid to draw more attention to myself, for him to pry more into my life. I don't want to give him an opening. I was thorough when I covered my tracks three hundred years ago. If I stay quiet, I will keep hidden, even if it's in plain sight.

Maybe, if I go to this corridor with him, I can connect the dots and figure out what he's missing before he does, and then I can reap this Alpha myself and slip back into oblivion unscathed. It's not like I have much of a choice anyway.

I'm mulling over these thoughts as I take a sip of my coffee, which is bitter and bland compared to my bloffee from this morning.

The Reaper finishes the last bite of his bread and dusts the crumbs from the tablecloth with his fingers. "If you're worried about getting back in time for your date with Detective Cartwright, there is no reason for concern. We will be back by then."

The coffee catches in my throat and sputters from my mouth and out my nose.

And then the most unexpected thing happens. The Reaper laughs. It's more of a chuckle, really. Like the ghost of a laugh. But oh my God. It's low and luxurious. It's rich and warm, like hot chocolate spiced with chili. It's like whispering secrets over glasses of brandy next to a fire. A little bit dangerous. A little bit reckless. And I want to hear more.

I clean myself up with my napkin, watching the fleeting smile dissolve from Ashen's face as he takes on the task of putting an obscene amount of butter on another roll.

"Is he your mate?" he asks.

I nearly choke on the air itself. I have an intense urge to shout out WHAT THE FUCK as loud as I can. I manage to press my teeth together until my jaw aches as I write my reply.

Are you serious? Andy Cartwright? You're asking if Andy Cartwright is my 'mate'?

"Yes, the human. The police detective. The one that gave you the unsightly rubber plant."

It's a Japanese peace lily.

"It's still unsightly. It looks like it belongs in a dentist's office."

I offer a faint smile and a shrug, not glancing up from my notebook as I write.

Agreed. It is not the most attractive plant. But the thought was nice. And no, he is not my 'mate'.

"But he does want to mate with you."

Fuck my life,I think as I press my fingertips to my forehead. I take a deep breath, sit back in my chair, and pick up my butter knife. I flip it between my fingers as I consider stabbing the Reaper in the hand. When I glance up, I catch the dim spark of amusement in his eyes, hidden like a light beneath sheafs of dark paper.

He's fucking with you, I think to myself. Fuck back.

The Reaper is expecting I will tell him to shove his head back up his ass where it belongs. But that is not what I write. I send a silent prayer of thanks to Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion for having my back with WAP.

Yes, I believe he does. Although, we don't call it mating. That's very last century of you, Reaper. No, he wants to park his big Mack truck right in my little garage.

I send my note across the table and the light dies in his eyes. He tries not to glare at me as a smile stalks across my face. I take my journal back.

In case it's unclear, Reaper, he wants to make it cream, make me scream.

There is a tiny flame growing in his pupils.

He intends to bring a bucket and a mop... would you like me describe what for? I can keep going if you like.

That one is the final straw for the Reaper. He lays his large hand across the paper and pulls it toward him with a fiery gleam in his eyes. We sit in blissfully awkward silence for the meal he doesn't finish, and my mediocre coffee suddenly tastes a lot less bitter.

The Reaper doesn't speak for the rest of the car ride. I spend most of the time working on a new design in my journal. The lyrics to WAP spiral outward from the drawing of a bucket and a mop. I show it to Ashen and he glares at the road as though it's a soul to be reaped.

When we arrive at Ediye's house, she's already standing on her porch waiting for us. I had texted her that we were coming and what the Reaper wanted to know, hoping that she would pull together some potential apothecaries to investigate. The less time she has to spend with Ashen, the better. Preferably no time at all.

We get out of the car and enter the gate of her garden, following the winding flagstone path through beds of herbs and exotic flowers. Ediye waits on her porch like a bastion between the world and the sanctuary of her home. She has a folded piece of paper in her hand, and she extends it toward us as we ascend the first three steps of her porch. The message is clear. We will not be entering her domain.

"This is your most likely option," Ediye says. She hands the paper to me, but her eyes cast a slow sweep of the Reaper, starting first with his cognac irises, then lingering on the tattoos that creep up from beneath the collar of his shirt, down the length of his body and back up again. She meets my gaze with a look that says: you are so fucked, vampire.

"Thank you, witch. Your assistance has been noted," the Reaper says.

Ediye eyes him, crossing her arms. I know she'd rather not be noted at all. She shifts her gaze to me. "Where is he taking you?"

His 'corridor', I write, holding it up for her to see.

Ediye's onyx eyes go wide. "The Shadow Realm?" she asks. Her voice shimmers with incredulity. I shake my head and point to my note. Ediye puffs a frustrated breath. "Yes, his corridor... the one that leads to the Shadow Realm... the Shadow Realm of the Reapers... for fucksakes Lu."

We look at one another for a long moment before cutting our combined glares to the Reaper, who is stoic and unmoving. Ediye takes a step from her porch, staring down at him in challenge. He does not balk, naturally. He could kill her in the time it would take her to blink. My heart swells in appreciation for my badass friend, who I know on the inside must be roiling with fear but who will never show it.

"She does not belong in your realm, Reaper," Ediye says.

Ashen does not look away. "I know. I have no choice," he says, and his voice is softer than I expect.

"It is dangerous for her there. You have a duty to keep her safe."

"I know."

"This," Ediye says as she yanks the journal from my hands. She flips through some of the pages and snorts a laugh as she comes upon my masterpiece of ASSHOLE. She holds it up in front of his face and points to it. "This is not all she is." She jabs a finger to his chest on the exact spot where his wound is still healing. "This? What she did for you? This is Lu."

He shifts the briefest glance to me before meeting Ediye's eyes once more. "I will bring her back unharmed."

"You'd better, or I will come for you, Reaper. I don't care who you are or how many souls you've taken. There will be no House in your Realm that will be able to hide you. Not from me."

I snatch the journal away and clasp Ediye in a brief but fierce hug, then I sign I love you. I turn away before I can see her reply stalking to the car with my head down and my glassy eyes trained on the silver flagstones. Sometimes having just one person left to stand for you reminds you how many you've lost.

As I sit in the car and wait for Ashen, I unfold Ediye's note.

Ammon Hassan, Wakalat al-Makwa, Khan el-Khalili.

There's a gold necklace taped inside, a hexagonal charm of lapis lazuli shining at me from beneath the cellophane. I pull it free of the note and cast my thumb across the blank space that it leaves behind. Hidden ink appears in the same shade of blue as the stone.

He's not the only one that can find you. Whisper Ninmen Eslal to the charm, I will come.

The Reaper enters the car and I fold the note as the ink disappears. He watches as I put the necklace on. As my hands are behind my neck he reaches across the console and pulls the note from where it rests on my lap. The skin of my thigh hums with gooseflesh even though he didn't touch me. The gesture is so simple yet feels intimate. I feel vulnerable, but unafraid. But I think I should.

"Khan el-Khalili. Cairo," Ashen says as he reads the note. His voice is quiet and low. He looks into the distance, his gaze angled away from me. Tension feathers along his jaw.

For just a moment, I wonder if he can feel anything he shouldn't, or if that's only ever just me.