A Shadow in the Reaping by Brynne Weaver

Chapter 12

Black smoke coils in a slow path toward the ceiling. It rises from a wide, flat cauldron resting on a dais in the center of the room. There are stones in the cauldron, black with shimmering seams of gold. There isn't a flame, and yet the smoke billows upward, trapped by the living room above. It flows across the ceiling and hovers among the tops of the brick pillars and arches that hold up the foundations of the house.

The Reaper takes a small, unlit torch from a basket by the door, holding it to the fire of a lamp along the wall. He casts it into the cauldron. Fire roars to life across the stones.

"Let's go," he says, walking toward the dais.

I look around as though there's some magical door to the Shadow Realm that might appear in all the embers spitting from the flame. The Reaper ascends the steps.

There is no door. There's no escape hatch.

The cauldron is the path to the Shadow Realm.

This parachute is a backpack and the backpack is on fucking fire.

I write a note and rip it from the journal, crumple it up, and throw it at the Reaper.

I miss.

It rolls down the interior edge of the cauldron and bursts into flame.

The Reaper turns and looks at me, and the note doesn't matter anymore. He gets the gist of it from my face. Which is:

Fuck you. I'm not getting in a cauldron of fire.

"This is the corridor," he says, pointing to the cauldron as though it's an obvious and perfectly reasonable request to stand in a flame. "Let's go, vampire."

I shake my head. I take a step backward.

"You will not burn," the Reaper says.

Sure, that's easy to say when you're a demon and your name is fucking Ashen. My jaw tightens and I give him a death stare. To demonstrate my point, I rip another piece of paper from my journal and compress it in my fist, then throw it into the fire. Again, it bursts into flame. Ashen looks at it, then at me.

"Okay... I understand your concern, but you will not burn. You are an immortal."

I shake my head and take another step back.

He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand at all.

I shift my gaze to the flame. My heart thunders in my chest. I taste bile, and coffee, and blood. I close my eyes.

I can still feel the rope that bound my body to the stake, the frayed edges burrowing into my wrists. I remember the rush of fire at my feet, the sear of heat through the leather soles of my boots. The way my clothes and skin became ash together, lifting from my body. I remember Bobby Sarno, standing in the back, watching with a smirk of vengeance on his face. I remember the voices of villagers. Incantations against the devil. Incantations against me. The smell of wool and flesh on fire. The sound of my scream.

No, he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand what I endured for a chance at another life. "This will be the only way to make them believe it," Ediye had said as we drew up our plan three hundred years ago. She would make the accusation. I would be convicted of witchcraft by the humans. I would burn at the stake, a vampire sentenced as a witch. "If we do everything right, the Reapers will believe the last of the original sirens has died. And for a long time, as you heal, you will wish you had."

And that's what we did. I burned. I burned until I begged to die. When the time was right, when I was little more than unrecognizable charcoal on the stake, Ediye used her magic to switch my body for that of another vampire, one she killed with silver and burned herself. And then she brought me back from the brink of death. Even with the healing abilities of a vampire and aided by a witch, that took a fucking long time. I suffered for my second chance. Day and night, for months, I suffered.

Like so many of our memories that we collect over an immortal lifetime, this is one I cannot bear.

When I look toward the flame again, Ashen is there, standing between me and the cauldron. I don't meet his eyes, but I can feel them. They've melted to my skin like molten steel.

"This is the path," he says. His voice is low and quiet. "This is the corridor."

I feel a tear creep from my eye. Traitorous fucking thing. So much for all my tough talk of conquering the realm of the Reapers. I'm crying at the mere thought of taking the path to get there. I shake my head and glare at a pillar beyond Ashen's shoulder, trying to force the emotion back into my eyes. I could destroy that pillar. I could collapse the ceiling onto the cauldron. Take down this whole damn house, dismantle this whole stupid idea of going to the Shadow Realm.

But I know I need to go there. I need to get rid of this Alpha and the Reapers and this whole fucking insanity and get back to my quiet life. I just don't think I can pay the price of standing in flame.

I move to uncap my pen and write a note, but Ashen pulls them from my grasp and slides them into the inside pocket of his blazer. He takes my hand and I meet his eyes. I give him my fiercest vampire stare. His pupils are lit with flame but I don't see anger there.

Black smoke billows around us until we are blanketed in it. It smells like tobacco and ink. Ashen takes my other hand and my gaze darts around us, but all I see is him and the smoke.

"Just look at me, Lu," he says, and takes a step back. I meet his gaze as he takes another and draws my hands toward him, waiting patiently until I step with him.

I know there's fear in my eyes. I can't stop it. He must have seen fear in eyes like mine so many times before. But the way he looks at me, it's like he's seeing it for the very first time.

"Keep your eyes on me," Ashen says. We take slow steps across the room. He takes one backward, I take one forward. Another. Another. His weight shifts up as he takes his first step on the dais.

My hands are shaking. I can't stop the tears now. I close my eyes and bend my head, pressing my lips between my teeth. I feel terrified and fucking ridiculous, both at the same time. I think I should control this, but I can't. The phantom fire burns reason and thought to ash.

A hand presses a warm touch on my face. A slow caress sweeps across my skin, first on one cheek and then the other. When Ashen's hand grasps mine again, it's damp with the tears I've shed.

"I won't let anything hurt you, Lu," he says. His voice sounds like a promise. He sounds like a warrior. He sounds like he will burn the world to keep his word.

I take my first step on the dais and my shoulders start shaking. I think I might vomit on Ashen's polished shoes. The katana strapped across my back feels heavier with every breath. I swear it whispers to me and I pull my hands away to cover my ears. Accusations and prayers flood my mind from memory. I want to fall to my knees. I wish I could spiral into myself until I'm away from this place and all the memories it evokes.

Ashen curls his hands around my elbows and pulls me with him to the platform of the dais. "We're almost there," he says, his lips close to the hand covering my ear. The heat of his breath warms my neck. I open my eyes as he pulls away to meet my gaze. There is enough fury there to destroy every realm. Somehow, I think I would be the only one spared.

"Do you like to swim?" Ashen asks.

I almost laugh. But I don't. I just nod.

"It's just like swimming." Ashen steps into the cauldron and I feel my panic swell, gripping my throat. His arm sweeps across my back. "Just like diving into deep water," he says, taking my weight. "You hold your breath. There's a pressure in your head. Then you open your eyes and you are in another world."

Ashen lifts me into the cauldron. The smoke is different here. I smell sulphur and cedar as it erupts around us. I see the light of the flame at my feet and let out a strangled sound as I try to stomp it away. Ashen's other arm folds me into an embrace, pressing me to his chest. For the first time in a very, very long time, I weep. I weep in the arms of the Reaper.

"Close your eyes, Lu. We're almost there."

I close my eyes. I push my face to the beat of his heart until I can't breathe. The pressure he promised fills my head as the flame coils up my arms. But he's right, it doesn't burn. It feels like silk caught in a breeze, caressing my skin.

There's a rushing, roaring sound as the flame envelops us and rises above our heads. And then a whoosh. The fire falls to our feet like a curtain in a magic trick. But Ashen does not let go. He pulls us out of the cauldron and away from the flame that ripples at our feet. It's only when we're a few steps away that he releases his embrace to place his hands on the sides of my face. I open my eyes. We are still blanketed by smoke.

Ashen's eyes burn with bright flame as they bounce between mine. He seems to find something there that he didn't want to. I can tell he realizes that wherever my panic came from, it was from no accident. That life can be callous and cruel. His gaze drops to my lips and his jaw tightens. "The ones who did this to you. Did you kill them?"

I nod.

"Good."

We stand unmoving for a long moment. I only notice now that my hands are curled around Ashen's wrists. His palms are still warm on my skin. His thumbs coast beneath my eyes and sweep the last of my tears away. I'm thinking makeup was a stupid idea after all. For some reason I don't delight in the fact that half of it is probably on Ashen's shirt.

"Do not go anywhere here without me. Ediye was right when she said you are not meant for this realm. It is a dangerous place," he says. His eyes flow across the contours of my face. “You are a bright soul here. You shine like a beacon, and everything here can see it.”

I feel like layers are missing when I look into Ashen's eyes. I find fear in them, buried deep. I'm not sure what it's for, but I know I'm not meant to see.

I nod. I give a faint smile.

Ashen takes a deep breath. His eyes linger on my mouth for a heartbeat too long, and then his palms lift from my skin. My hands fall from his wrists, back to my sides. He takes a step away and the smoke around us dissolves into air.

"Welcome to the Shadow Realm."