Текст книги "Sixth Grave on the Edge"

Автор книги: Даринда Джонс

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

I looked up from the papers. “You’ve already told us all this,” I said. “It’s the prophecies from the von Holstein guy.”

“No, A. von Holstein is the translator. He had a lot to wade through with the prophecies being written in a dead language

and

in code. I don’t blame him for getting anything wrong. I just misinterpreted his interpretation. Your new friend, the Dealer, has come in very handy.”

“That’s good.” I sank onto Reyes’s sofa beside Cookie. She yawned, and I realized she must’ve had a late night with Uncle Bob. I was so not going there. I could only hope she’d put the mask on

after

the nightcap.

Garrett paced the floor, deep in thought, taking periodic sips of the beer Reyes gave him.

Reyes sat on the armrest beside me. “Coffee in two. Now, what did you get wrong this time?” he asked Garrett, badgering him just a little.

I jabbed my fiancé with an elbow, then said, “Swopes, sit down.”

“It’s about you, the daughter,” he said, his agitation growing. “At first Dr. von Holstein and I thought you were the daughter throughout the prophecies. All the prophecies. That you had to face Lucifer.”

“Okay,” I said, trying not to drool as the scent of coffee brewing washed over my senses like baptismal water. I could face Reyes’s dad. I had to die soon anyway.

“But there are two,” he continued. “Two distinct references. Two distinct time periods.”

“I’m getting dizzy,” Cookie said as she watched him pace. She rubbed her forehead and I watched from my periphery as realization dawned. She brought her hand down slowly, her expression changing from one of exhausted but interested to one of utter horror. She sat in shock a few seconds, then slowly rose to her feet, glancing toward Reyes’s bathroom.

It took every molecule of self-control I possessed not to giggle. Not in a mean way. Well, kind of mean. I wasn’t so much laughing at her but with her. Only on the inside, because I didn’t want to be backhanded.

Before she took two steps that way, another pounding sounded at the door. Our eyes met and our thoughts merged. Amber was alone. Did she wake up and get scared?

We both bounded for the door, but Reyes still beat us. Freaking supernatural beings.

But when he opened the door, a group of nuns stood before him. Which was unusual, especially considering the hour.

“Is the church collecting door-to-door now?” I asked as I hobbled forward to stand beside my man. My abstinent friends were dressed fairly normally, the veils on their heads the only giveaway that they were nuns. They parted to let a couple of them through, revealing the fact that they were practically carrying one of my besties, Sister Mary Elizabeth. She was almost limp in their arms, her forehead shimmering with a fine sheen of sweat, her eyes heavy-lidded, her gaze distant.

I rushed forward to help. Garrett did the same and we dragged the sister into Reyes’s apartment. Once everyone was inside, Reyes shut the door behind us. Sister Mary Elizabeth dropped to her knees, clutched her head, and whimpered, insisting there were too many. Far too many.

“She’s been like this for a couple of hours,” the mother superior said, her demeanor far less intimidating than usual in the simple dress and short veil. She knelt beside us.

Another spoke up then. A Sister Theresa, if I wasn’t mistaken. “She was screaming at first.”

“Yes,” the mother superior agreed, petting Mary Elizabeth’s hair. It was the first time I’d seen it uncovered, and it was shorter than I thought it would be. Cut into a simple bob, it had clearly seen better days. It hung in matted clumps as though she just woke up and had been pulling at it in her sleep. The thick clumps entangled in her fingers confirmed that suspicion.

Another one spoke then, one I didn’t recognize. “She’s been wailing in pain and saying they were all talking at once.”

“The angels?” I asked, pulling Mary Elizabeth’s head to my chest. She calmed instantly, but stayed fetal, rocking against me.

“Yes,” the mother superior said. “According to Sister Mary Elizabeth, something has them all upset.”

“What?” Cookie asked, her green face shocked. “What could upset the angels like this?”

Before any of them could answer, Mary Elizabeth stilled. She unfolded herself and stood. I helped her, and Reyes helped me help her, as my ankle was still tender. I took her by the shoulders and tried to bring her terrified gaze to mine.

When she finally focused, her expression changed from terrified to shocked to sorrowful. She cupped my cheek in her hand, then looked down.

“Charley,” she said at last, her voice soft, full of fear, “what have you done?”

“What?” I glanced at the other nuns, but they seemed as confused as I was. “What did I do?”

She sank to her knees and put both hands on my abdomen before refocusing on me. She took one hand away to cover her mouth as she looked from me to Reyes and then back again. “What have you done?” she repeated, her words muffled.

And then I understood. I touched my abdomen and knew. In an instant, like a flash of lightning, I knew. I felt it. A tiny spark at first. A warmth. A glow in my nether regions that welled up and filled me with such unexplainable joy. Such unimaginable ardor. Such unconditional devotion.

Reyes was the first to catch on. He stepped forward, his expression just as shocked as Mary Elizabeth’s, and put his hand on my abdomen, covering both the sister’s hand and mine at once. I felt a pulse, a wave, like a greeting from a new life, as his body connected with mine.

I looked up at Garrett. He knew, too. “The daughter,” he said, his voice full of awe. He knew. The prophecies about the daughter of light were about me. But the ones about the daughter,

just

the daughter—well, those had been about … I looked back down at my abdomen. Cradled it as though holding her already. Reyes was emitting a combination of happiness and bewilderment.

Then I felt another presence. Another … admirer of the moment. We weren’t alone. Reyes tensed, feeling the presence, too. Outside in the alley, I felt the Dealer, could practically see him smile into the darkness as we all began to understand. But he already knew. He’d always known.

What had I done indeed?

Excerpt: Reyes’s POV

I stripped off my clothes and crawled into bed, trying not to let this latest development in all things Charley Davidson bother me. It didn’t help. It bothered me, and there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot I could do about it. She would never listen. I had to realize that. And, admittedly, her stubbornness was part of her charm. Unfortunately, that charm was going to get her killed someday. I would do everything in my power not to let that happen, but when she disregarded my advice at every turn, she made that goal more and more difficult to achieve.

And she paid the price. Holy shit, did she pay the price. With all that she’d been through, one would think she’d at least try to avoid life-threatening situations. I heard her screams at night. I felt the fear that rushed through her when her dreams turned dark. It penetrated the wall between us like razor-sharp shadows that cut to the bone.

My ire rose once again with the thought. I swallowed it back, held it at bay. Dutch seemed to care more about others than about herself—and to an incomprehensible degree. It went against everything I knew about grim reapers. They didn’t care about humans. They did their jobs and went about their days.

Dutch was different, unique, and I couldn’t help the pride that swelled inside me with that knowledge. If she had any idea what she was capable of, I’d probably be in a lot of trouble. Grim reapers were not to be trifled with. She’d figure that out one day.

I felt her crawl onto her mattress. Our beds practically butted against each other, and the wall between us was growing tiresome. I’d have to do something about that soon. Still, feeling her so close, even with a wall between us, was like a salve. She calmed the seas that forever roiled inside me. Illuminated the darkness I dwelled in. I could not get enough of her. I could never get enough of her. Even growing up, I dreamed about her constantly. Had I known she was not just a figment of my imagination, I would have sought her out in the flesh way sooner than I did. Instead, I visited her in my dreams. Her energy, her vividness and blindingly bright soul, drew me to her every time I closed my eyes. For the most part, I kept my distance. I would make myself known only if she was in any kind of danger, which seemed to happen a lot.

But there were times growing up, in my loneliest, darkest hours, when the pain of my upbringing became unbearable, and I would search her out. She was the only reason I was still alive. Without her there to light my way, I would have been lost decades ago. I would have taken my own life, certainly, and quite possibly the lives of several others along the way. That was the simple truth of it.

I felt her then. I felt her cross the barrier between us, probing, searching. I tensed, wondering what she was up to. She had been hurt a couple of weeks ago, and I’d vowed to give her space and time to heal. Maybe she was better. Going by what I was feeling radiating off her now, she was a lot better.

The sensation of her grew stronger. She was reaching out with her mind, playing a game at which I was a master. I couldn’t help but be amused and send out my own essence in response. I left my physical body and slipped through the wall as though it weren’t there.

She was holding her palm against it, trying to reach out to me, to touch me as I was now touching her. I didn’t materialize. Instead, I started at her wrist and worked my way down, sliding my fingertips along her arm, across her cheek, down her neck, until I lay atop her. She sucked in a breath, her chest rising softly with the action, stirring me to my core. I cupped a breast in my hand, its fullness soft and tantalizing. She moaned underneath me, writhed with pleasure as the friction caused me to harden against her. She was honest to God the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, and I’d seen a lot.

But she stopped. She opened her eyes, their gold depths glittering like water in the moonlight, and concentrated, fighting me mentally, struggling to reverse our positions. I was always the one to leave my physical body and come to her. I gained just as much pleasure from being with her incorporeally as corporeally. But the thought of her doing the same to me caused a jolt of pleasure at the base of my cock. Blood rushed to that general area lightning quick the moment I felt her brush over me.

She sent out her essence, letting the heat from her mental energy explore my body. No one had ever touched me that way. Her essence was warm and smooth like silk. She tested every inch of me, running her fingers over my abdomen, then—almost timidly—around my cock. I gritted my teeth, curled my hands into the sheets as I felt her mouth slide over me, encircling my erection. Her lips glided down, her teeth grazing over the sensitive skin there. But she wanted more. I could feel it. I could allow her to get only so close. To go only so deep. Anything more, and she could see things I didn’t want her to see.

So, I stopped her. I raised a barrier to limit her explorations to those places visible to the naked eye. Then again, it was Dutch I was dealing with, the most powerful of her kind to be born in a millennium. She sharpened her touch, raked her fingernails over my skin, let them bite into my flesh. I bit back a curse.

“Dutch,” I said aloud in warning, but there was no fighting her. She was too powerful, and she broke through my barrier in one quick strike.

Heat penetrated muscle and bone and burst inside me. A feeling I’d never felt before spread through every inch. It was hot, like lava, and burned from the inside out, coursing through my veins, rushing along my nerve endings. She pushed my legs apart and pressed into me, and the pleasure that rocketed through me almost brought me off the bed.

Our energies collided, the friction grinding, causing my hunger to grow stronger with every beat of her pulse. As she caressed me, I caressed her. I felt her energy engulf my cock in long, powerful strokes until I pushed her down and did the same to her. I felt her climax swell like a sea inside her, churning and swirling. I kissed her and sucked her and pushed into her so hard and fast, she burst into a cascade of shimmering lights. The moment she came, I exploded as well. Only I wasn’t really inside her. I wasn’t really on top of her, and I came on my stomach, my jaw clenched, my muscles convulsing with each spasm of pleasure.

When the orgasm died down, I threw an arm over my face and listened to the sound of my own labored breathing. That was one of the most incredible things that had ever happened to me.

I reached out to her again, the enigma that was known across the universe as the daughter of light. “Come sleep with me,” I said.

She didn’t answer, but I could hear her soft sighs as she panted into her pillow. So, I rolled out of bed to clean myself. I could feel her surveying me. I smiled. She kept watch until I crawled back into bed. With exhaustion quickly overtaking me, I repeated, “Come sleep with me.”

I wasn’t sure if she responded or not. Apparently, I fell asleep like I generally fucked—hard and fast—because I didn’t remember anything else until I awoke to an overwhelming feeling of panic coming from Charley’s apartment.