A Shadow in the Reaping by Brynne Weaver

Chapter 23

Isit on a shaded bench in the courtyard and text back and forth with Ediye as I wait for the Reaper to gather some clothes from the depths of the house. We talk in emojis so I don't tell her where I am, but she knows that I'm okay.

I send her a heart.

She sends me a skull and a question mark.

I send her a face palm.

She sends me a devil face.

I send her an eyeroll.

She sends me an eggplant and a cat.

"I found this," Ashen says, startling me. I nearly drop the phone on the limestone and recover it with a fumbling hand. The Reaper holds out a folded black dress and I take it into my arms, holding it away from the grime on my top. He's gotten changed into black jeans and another midnight blue shirt, not as crisp and new as the other one but still well-tailored.

Thank you, I mouth, and look away. I'm feeling kind of weird about what happened in Saqqara. Not just about the presence of an angel who seems too interested and knowledgeable about our little mystery, but about what happened with Ashen.

There's a lot of power in his blood. A lot of history. And it's kind of frightening. It's like a well of secrets that I can taste but not see or hear. The essence of it still surges in my body, and even though it's not much, I can feel him, effervescent in my veins.

Ashen turns away and I get changed right there in the courtyard. The dress is kind of sweet and I can't imagine a Reaper wearing it. Aside from the dark color, it's not their typical style. The soft cotton hits just at my knee, the bodice is fitted but not tight. Gold beads follow the neckline and flow up the halter straps. I take off my bra. The white lace is stained and not really a good fit with the halter, you see. I leave it on top of my other clothes where it can hopefully make Ashen uncomfortable.

The Reaper doesn't say anything as I tie the matching belt behind my back and walk past him to the fountain, cupping water in my hands to splash my face. Swirls of dark blood drip onto the blue mosaic and wash away.

"Night will be falling when we get back to the Shadow Realm," Ashen says. He tries to look super chill as he tosses my bra and shirt into the cauldron where they melt into the flames, but I see the way he swallows when he glances at me. Attraction and Annihilation. My jeans are salvageable, so he hands them to me with my journal and pen.

How wild of you, burning bras, I write.

"I am a progressive Reaper," he replies, and his deadpan tone makes my smile grow even wider.

Yes, I really gathered that when you asked if Andy Cartwright wanted to mate with me.

My smile fades as his expression grows dark and menacing. I see the flash of bright flame in his eyes as Ashen looks away, first to the fountain, then the floor, then the cauldron. Basically anywhere but me.

"We should go," he says. The black smoke swirls from our feet and climbs our legs. He reaches out his hand before it's enveloped by the rising fog, but he doesn't meet my eyes. I lay my palm against his and follow him to the cauldron.

I still feel the rising tide of panic. I still hear the voices of the village. My heart thrums and my breath quickens. I cover my ears and Ashen pulls me into an embrace. It seems tighter than before, and when we arrive at the other side and I recover my breath, it feels like he doesn't want to let go. But he does, and he keeps his eyes away from mine on the long walk to his room.

When we get there, Ashen leaves for a short while to get some food, bringing back a bottle of wine and two glasses. We sit for a long time in silence as we read through the texts from the library. He has wisely given me the werewolf book while he keeps the vampire one to himself.

I read a bit about Semyon's ancestry in Russia, but it's nothing entirely surprising. He's old. He killed his way to power. He's had family come and go, children living and dying. The werewolves may technically be immortals, but they often fight such vicious battles amongst themselves that they don't stick around too long. I guess he's a little unusual in that way; he's more ancient than most. The earliest references date to about my time, before the Romans, before the Greeks, when the Sumerians still held power in the fertile valley of the Tigris and Euphrates.

I reach over for my glass of wine from the side table next to my chair. I'm feeling a little worn out by this day, even though Ashen's blood still hums in my veins. When I look up he's watching me from his chair, his book splayed across his lap in the same pose as the night before.

What? I write, and spin the note on the table between us so he can see it.

"The angel said the wolves need one like you. What do you think he meant?"

I don't know. Someone badass and cool?

"No. That's not it."

Someone that has angel rabies?

"Not that either."

I have a feeling joking around isn't going to get me very far. He's been in a dark and humourless mood since I mentioned Andy Cartwright, so I guess I need to take a different approach.

You seem to know, so why don't YOU tell ME.

Ashen sighs and closes his book, setting it down on the side table before he takes a long sip of his wine and then sets that down too.

"You are obviously an ancient soul. You don't know who your maker is."

So what? And thanks for telling me I'm old. Yeesh.

"All vampires know who their maker is."

I'm not all vampires.I spin my note to face him and give him a death stare when he meets my eyes. He leans forward in a challenge.

"Precisely my point.”

I burst from my chair like it's on fire, even though I have no place to go. Fuck it, I'll hang out in the bathroom if I have to. I'll hide there until I can figure out a way to flush myself down the toilet to freedom all Shawshank style. He’s in hard pursuit of my history now and I knew it, I just knew he'd start digging at me sooner or later. I've been fooling myself into believing otherwise. I've convinced myself that he cares enough for me to let it go.

I was wrong.

I sweep my pen and journal off the table and start marching toward the bathroom when Ashen grabs my arm.

"Why do you not want to tell me? What is it that frightens you so much about telling me who you are and where you came from?" he asks, letting go when I rip my arm away.

I scratch my pen with fury across a fresh page. The tip nearly pierces the paper by the end. Are you fucking serious?

I have such an urge to use my voice. It would explain so much, just a word or two. It would put everything into perspective for Ashen. He would finally understand. And then he would rush right out of his room and find his sister, or the new guy Cole that needs some kills under his belt, or pretty much anyone to do the reaping for him. So I clamp my mouth shut and give him the death stare to end all death stares. But as is sometimes the way with frustration and anger and hurt that you bury deep, I feel the swell of enraged tears burning in my eyes.

Christ, I fucking HATE IT when this happens.

I swallow down the knot in my throat and focus on the wavering sheet of paper in my hands.

The less you know about me, the less chance I'll have of one day being chained to your doors, or pulling your carriages, or wandering alone as nothing more than a fucking ghost in the library. The fucking LIBRARY, where you would celebrate my name beneath yours as another great kill for the glory of House Urbigu on your polished marble slab. Then you would just forget whatever it is I did to wind up reaped in the first place. Before long you'd forget who I was or what I could have meant to you. I'd be just another specter that either does your bidding or wails in the fog or stands like a pitiful shell of a soul in the corner somewhere. Well, fuck that shit, Reaper. Fuck. That. SHIT.

I tear the page from the journal and slap it to Ashen's chest, not waiting to watch his reaction when he starts to read. I push past him and skirt around the bed, sitting on the edge and whacking my journal down on those fucking luxurious sheets that I wish I could hate but I can't. They're just so fucking great.

I press my palms to my eyes and try to swallow the lump that just keeps getting bigger with every breath I take. I decide I can't sit on these ridiculous sheets a second longer and I erupt from the bed like lava, smacking my face right into the Reaper's chest. He catches my arms and spins me away from the bed, pressing my back to the wall. I can tell by his grip I could pull away and he would let me, but I don't want to, and I don't want to think about why.

"You are not only a particularly acerbic vampire, but a dramatic one as well," Ashen says as his eyes brighten with flame. The scent of unsmoked tobacco and mint and ink fills my senses. Part of me wants to hiss right in his fucking Reaper face but I see something more than just frustration in his eyes as they land on my lips. "You are hiding in that strange little town. You don't want me to know where you belong among your clan. Do you think I didn't already figure out long ago that you must have done something for which you could be punished? Has it not then occurred to you I have never harmed you? That I've sought to protect you?"

Well dang. So much for hiding in plain sight. He probably thinks I told a human I was a vampire, and hence I'm on the run. But there is a big difference between telling some bloodbags that immortals exist and, you know, killing a fucking Reaper.

Also, protecting me is a bit rich. Besides, it's not like he has much of a choice but to play nice-ish.

I tear one of my arms free with unnecessary force and Ashen rolls his eyes. I jab a finger to his chest, hoping that the spot is still sore, then I poke his arm where the tattoo is. I draw my thumb across my throat and then tick my finger back and forth in his face until he pushes it away.

"Yes, your spell prevents me from killing you but we both know I could have called in another Reaper to do the job. Any one of them would relish the opportunity to pull secrets from a bright soul in the Shadow Realm until they found a crime worthy of punishment. My sister most of all."

My glare intensifies as Ashen breaks down my arguments and throws my fears into the light. We stare at one another, my other wrist still warm within Ashen's grasp. My heart feels like a wild bird trapped in a cage, bounding from one set of bars to the next. I try to keep hold of a fierce vampiric stare but I can feel it dissolving. Ashen leans a little closer, his eyes fixed on mine.

"You want to know why I pulled you from the fight in Sanford?"

I swallow a breath. I give the slightest nod.

"Because you surprised me. You intrigued me. You were not what I expected. That you might fall in the fight, in some dirty alley of such a ridiculous little town, it didn't just seem like a waste. It felt... wrong. It felt like something irreplaceable was about to be lost. Like I had just found something worth saving, even though I didn't understand why."

Each beat of my heart detonates in my chest. The air catches in my lungs. We look at one another, unmoving. The fight in my flesh evaporates with every second that passes. I relax my arm in Ashen's grip and his palm slides down my arm until it meets mine. Our fingers interlace as he presses our hands to the wall, his movement slow and careful, his eyes never leaving mine. I hear the rush of blood through the chambers of his heart as he moves even closer. How there's any space between us I just don't know, and every place his body touches mine it feels like fire beneath my skin.

"You are acerbic and dramatic but you are also brave. You fear yet challenge this place. You fear yet challenge me," he says, his breath warm as it spills across my lips. His other hand finds my side, laying heat across my bones. I close my eyes, trying to calm the coil of need that snakes its way through my belly. When I open them his gaze is waiting for me, fiery and fierce, molten with desire. "You are like the wind or the sea, like an elemental force of nature. You feared me and yet I'm the one who is left defenseless as you dismantle my walls, stone by stone."

I take in a ragged breath as Ashen's gaze fuses to my parted lips. I move closer with every shallow inhalation until my skin touches his, until our breath mixes and our lips nearly meet. His hand moves across my ribs as though committing every bone to memory, like he would know each one in the dark. I realize now how much I've been wanting this moment, to hear that he feels something real. To admit that I do too. To feel his lips against mine-

"Elemental," he whispers, turning his face to the side at the last possible instant before our lips touch.

Ele...what?

...What the fuck?

Do I have vampire breath? Was it the fangria? Is it fangria hangover breath?

Oh my GodI think I've died five thousand years worth of deaths in a single second of time.

"Elemental," Ashen whispers again, his eyes trapped in some kind of epiphany that is clearly not my kiss. I have a mild sense of relief that his touch still lingers and our faces remain close. But more than that I have irritation, which is a thin veil for an unhealthy amount of angst.

So, I make my point known.

What the fuck?I mouth, tilting my head to cast a line back to his errant gaze.

"That's what we're missing. It's not just werewolves using vampires to make the hybrid. The witches must be involved as well. Perhaps even humans."

What the fuck?I mouth again with a confused shake of my head.

"I need to go to the library," Ashen says, letting go of my hand and turning away, his expression consumed by whatever thoughts are whirling through his head. Thoughts which clearly have fuck-all to do with me. He passes the edge of the bed, heading toward the door.

What the fuck?

I want to say it out loud. My hands hover in the air like I'm carrying my confused mind on a platter. I'm just standing, motionless, with some dumbass, incredulous expression on my face. Ashen stops abruptly and I have a surge of panic that I actually did utter the words out loud.

"Oh, one more thing," Ashen says as he turns around.

Within three strides he's there, right in front of me. His palms are warm on my face. His lips are pressed to mine. In five thousand years, there's never been a kiss like it.

Searing hot. Salty and sweet. Dark and dangerous. Intoxicating.

Heat cascades through my every vein, ignites every nerve like a fuse. His lips sweep across mine until I'm sure that Ashen is the only real thing in this Realm. Our tongues meet, and I taste mint and smoke and the sweet nectar of venom. I know he tastes it too, and he kisses me like I am the elixir for his very soul.

I grasp Ashen's shirt and pull him into me. There is no fucking around. There is no going back. I wrap my arms around his neck as Ashen presses my body to the wall and he makes his intentions clear, that he might be going to some fucking stupid library of ghosts but every thought he has will be consumed by one instinctive need. To be right back here, with his lips on mine.

Ashen gives a bite to my lower lip with just the right mix of pleasure and pain as he pulls away, both of us breathless and not ready to part. I open my eyes and his are fixed on mine like magnets to iron.

"I felt like I owed you after you put that image of a mating hybrid in my head," Ashen says with a dark smile. I huff a breath of a laugh and he kisses me again, this time a drugging, luxurious kiss. A deep and slow kiss, as though all we have is eternal time. When we separate, he presses his palms to my cheeks and catches my gaze, his expression serious.

What? I mouth as I furrow my brow and give him a questioning look.

"You need to stay here. It's too dangerous for a bright soul at this hour, even with me. I won't be long." Ashen looks into my eyes as though pressing every word into my brain. "Do not leave the room. It isn't safe. I will be as quick as I can."

I give a single nod. I'm not sure what would be worse about the Shadow Realm than what I've already experienced, but I don't really want to find out.

"Please, Lu. Promise me."

Jeez, he's adamant about this. I have no intentions whatsoever of going anywhere. The only thing I'm planning on doing is dreaming up creative ways to get back at him for faking me out with that kiss.

I nod again. I promise.

Ashen doesn't look completely convinced, and given our time together so far, I can't say that I blame him.

He presses one last kiss on my lips and then stalks to the door, looking back over his shoulder as he closes it behind him. I stand for a long while against the wall, replaying what just happened over and over in my mind, my fingers rolling back and forth over my swollen lips.

After a while, I sit on the edge of the bed. I'm still lost in thought when I hear a knock at the door. A surge of adrenaline hits my heart as I get up and drift silently toward it. There's another knock, and then a voice.

"Lu," it calls, as sweet as summer dew. "LuLu," it sings.

I open the door. Ember stands on the other side. A chain is wrapped around her fist. She yanks it with a vicious pull of her arm.

A soul falls to my feet. She looks up at me, her vacant gaze flowing up my body. I see the moment of recognition in her eyes, the woman who I know is trapped within looking back at me.

Molpe.

My sister.