A Shadow in the Reaping by Brynne Weaver

Chapter 27

"Do you ever actually sleep? I haven't seen it happen," I say as I slide onto one of the barstools in the kitchen and pull my damp hair into a ponytail. "Every time I wake you're already up."

Ashen pours my coffee, passing pitchers of blood and cream across the island before he returns his attention to his heavily buttered piece of toast and his newspaper. The faint smell of cinnamon drifts through the room, traveling on the gentle breeze of the open window. "It's hard for a demon to sleep soundly next to someone with angel rabies, you know."

"Well, at least it's that and not sleep farting."

"Oh no, it is definitely that too. I am just too much of a gentleman to mention it."

I grin. He smiles. We stare.

This should feel really fucking weird, sitting across from a Reaper and thinking about all the things I love about him. His humor. His wit. His beautiful cognac eyes that seem to capture me, holding me hostage. But it doesn't feel weird. The more I let go of my guard, the more it feels right. The danger seems to dissolve, leaving only desire behind.

Ediye is going to have a fucking field day with me.

Fuck.

Fuck shit fuck.

Ediye.

She's expecting me back soon and I haven't touched base to let her know I'm safe in the Living Realm.

I tear my eyes from Ashen's and reach down to my bag, pulling my phone from within the front pocket. There are six messages from Ediye, all emojis. There's a lady vampire. There's the planet Earth. There's a shrug. There's a wave or a slap, I'm not sure. There's a knife, which I think means she's going to kill me. Lastly, there's a ghost, which means she's definitely going to kill me.

I send her a devil face and a line of eggplants.

Ediye's response is immediate. It's a line of cry-laugh faces and a skull. I'm not sure if that means she's died laughing, or she's still coming to murder me. Maybe both.

"Hmm," Ashen murmurs. I look up to find him engrossed in the newspaper, a frown embedded on his face. He slides the story across the table to me.

"Family asks public for support to find missing local man," I read aloud. My eyes fix on the picture of a familiar face. "Jessie Fucking Bates."

"The man from the alley, correct? Your meal?"

"Yeah. Major douchebag," I say, my voice thin as my thoughts are consumed by the words on the page. There are the usual details about his height, age, eye color, yada yada. How he's such a wonderful person beloved by all. Such bullshit. Fortunately, he'd made it home from Sanford and was last seen at his house in Newbury. When he didn't show up for work, his brother went to check on him but the door of his home was ajar. Nothing was taken, nothing seemed out of place. Even his Audi was in the driveway, the keys still in a dish at the entrance of the house.

"A little too coincidental, I'm afraid," Ashen says as I slide the story back toward him.

"You think this is Semyon's doing?" I ask as Ashen folds the paper and takes a sip of coffee, his eyes pouring over my face.

Ashen sets his mug down and watches me as he turns it across the granite with a thoughtful expression. "Probably."

"Why?"

Ashen shrugs as he glances down to the image of Jessie's punchable, smiling face. Even as a missing person he comes off as a dickhead. "Maybe he thought you might have other... interests... in this particular human. Or maybe he's trying to send you a message. That he's watching, waiting."

I barely manage to stifle a snort. "Interests. Gross. That guy was only good for one thing. Eating."

"When you left me in the alley with him, are you sure no other werewolves were left behind as well?" Ashen asks as leans forward and locks his gaze to mine. Tiny buds of flame blossom in his eyes.

"I know that face," I say with a sly smile as I sit back on my stool and cross my arms. "That's your interrogation face. That face sucks."

Ashen gives an incredulous laugh as his gaze flicks to the ceiling. When his eyes meet mine again they burn with a hotter flame. "My face does not suck."

"Don't get me wrong, it's a very handsome face, Reaper. But it sucks. This is where you ask me a bunch of questions and pressure me to give you answers that I don't want to or cannot give you. And this time I have genuinely no fucking idea." We stare at one another, the only sound between us the ticking of Ashen's finger on the handle of his mug. "So are you going to stop asking me questions?"

"That depends on what you tell me about how and why you cast the spell, and what happened afterward."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "I just gave you my blood, said a bunch of stuff that I hoped wasn't gibberish and then you woke up. You said my name, I said some more crackpot shit then I smacked you in the head and took off. I left you with that grabby asshole and you two were the only ones I saw there. End of fucking story," I say as my hand snaps out and I grab my mug, downing the rest of my coffee even though it's still too hot and it burns my tongue. I clunk my mug onto the granite and glare at Ashen. "Satisfied?"

Ashen looks at me for a long moment. The only movement is the surging blood within his heart and the brightening glow of flame in his eyes. "Grabby?"

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. "Out of everything I just said, that is the thing you worry about? I could have made you into a two-headed snake and you're worried about a handsy human douchebag?"

"Yes, in fact," Ashen says, his voice menacing. The flame erupts in his eyes and smoke billows across the countertop. "What do you mean, handsy? He touched you?"

I smack my flat palm onto the granite and point in his Reaper face, my eyes glowing with red light. "You listen here, Reaper. I can look after myself. Which is exactly what I was going to do when you rudely interrupted me from my well-chosen meal of retribution."

"Maybe so, but I only did it to save you from a pack of werewolves," Ashen says with a smug expression as he leans forward in a challenge. I give a dramatic roll of my eyes and level him with a glare.

"Well riddle me this, batman. You were the last one of the two of us to see Jessie in the alley, so what did you see there, huh? Any werewolves when you woke up? Anyone watching the grandmaster smoke demon looming over the douchebag human as he pissed himself behind Cheese Louise? Interrogate that," I say, giving him a mic drop motion with my hand that turns into a middle finger as I sit back and cross my arms. I give Ashen my fiercest vampiric glare but I see a smile fighting to break free on his face. "Don't you dare."

"Don't what?" he asks, the smile brightening as he loses the battle to keep it at bay.

"Don't you laugh at me," I say, still trying to look serious even though part of me so wants to hear the sound of his laugh again. "I just dropped a mic on you. You're not allowed."

"Is that the rule? You never told me that rule."

"It's implied. Longstanding vampire tradition. Vampire drops mic, no laughing or arguing allowed. Vampire wins."

That does it. Ashen laughs. The sound bounds through the space around us, musical and warm. I wonder for the first time if he can sing. I imagine it would be a rich baritone, bright like brass in the sun.

"All right, vampire. You win. I did not see anyone else in the alley when I woke. There was no mist either. But that doesn't mean Semyon wasn't watching from nearby." Ashen is still smiling when he leans back and takes a sip of his coffee. He watches me for a moment with amusement still bright in his eyes as he takes a bite of his toast. He looks down at his phone, sliding it toward me. "I think this is worth checking out. Selborne Brickworks," he says, pointing to the map.

I run my hand across my arm, trying to smooth the goosebumps that erupt in my flesh as I look down at the dropped pin. "You think that's the one?"

"I did some digging. It was shut down in 2011 but was purchased two years ago by a company called Klyk Corp, a chemical engineering firm owned by Semyon Abdulov."

"Couldn't get much more likely than that," I say, zooming out of the map. "It's quite a drive though, and it's going to raise questions if I don't show up today in Sanford. Bian will probably hunt you down herself."

"I have no doubts about that. And Ediye would be fast on her heels I'm sure," Ashen says, draining his cup and taking both our mugs and his plate to the sink.

"We also can't really rock up there just the two of us all 'wassup bitches, we're here to check if all your hybrids have giant dicks'. We need a plan."

Ashen glances at me over his shoulder with a smile as the water cascades over the mugs, washing the last scents of coffee away. “Very true, but there’s another stop we can make that’s on our way back to Sanford. Before you woke, I found a potential connection in the book of witch lineages between Mila Karras and one of the local covens, and they both might intersect with Semyon’s businesses.”

I’m about to ask some questions when the smell of cinnamon catches in the back of my throat. I smell cream cheese icing and the sweet scent of irises in morning dew as Ashen takes the last bite of toast before placing the plate beneath the stream.

"Is a half-pound of butter per piece of toast not enough? You have to eat it with a vat of icing and cinnamon sugar now?" I ask as he rinses the mugs and places them on the drying rack.

"What do you mean?" Ashen replies as he sets the plate next to the mugs. I can sense the confusion in his voice. He turns the tap off, and then I hear it. A fluttering sound. Faint. Rapid. Like a hummingbird trapped behind a veil.

"Do you hear that?" I ask.

The world around us slows and speeds up, both in the same instant. I blink and when I open my eyes Ashen's palm is flat on the granite in front of me. I think that I could count every drop of water rolling down his skin.

In the next moment, his weight and momentum are crashing into me as he slides across the island that separates us. He knocks me from the chair. His arm folds around my waist as I fall backward and we strike the floor. Ashen takes the hit of the landing and we roll, enveloped by thickening smoke and the smell of cinders and ink. We come to a halt and within a beat of my heart Ashen's arm and his weight are gone. Sparks hiss as they die on the cold stone.

When I look up he's standing with his back to me. Smoke cascades from Ashen's shoulders in the shape of a wide set of wings. I’ve never seen him like this before, and I know on instinct it must be bad. Embers and licks of flame fall to the floor as the wings unfurl. I see his silver sword through the diaphanous black vapor flowing from his back like liquid. The hellfire burns bright across the metal he grips between his hands.

"Anunnaki," Ashen seethes, his voice so thick with malice that it doesn't even sound like his. "Get out before I burn your blood with my sword."

A light grows from beyond Ashen until it's so bright it sears my eyes. Smoke thickens above the floor to shield me as I press my face beneath my arm. I feel the warmth of my tattoo across my skin. I swear I can make out every letter. I swear I feel them within me.

Sunu liiktisuma.

May they be bound.

I grip the handle of the kaiken at my side and rise through the smoke and flame to stand with Ashen.

"The vampire is right, demon," a man says over the ripple of fire that surges across Ashen's blade. His voice shimmers like wind chimes, melodious and bright. The feathers of his wings scrape the stone as the angel takes a step closer. "You need a plan. And I have come to see it done."