Текст книги "Sixth Grave on the Edge"
Автор книги: Даринда Джонс
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I patted my boot to make sure Zeus was still in there. I’d brought the knife Garrett Swopes hunted down, the one that could supposedly kill any demon on Earth. Including Reyes, which explained why Garrett had hunted it down in the first place. I felt better knowing it was close. I knew what a demon was capable of. I’d felt the slice of their needle-like teeth as they slid across my skin. I’d felt the stab of their razor-sharp claws as they dug into my flesh. I’d felt the icy chill of their breath as they readied to rip me to shreds. Zeus was definitely nice to have around.
I patted my boot again.
Three other players joined us—all men, all desperate, all searching for something they couldn’t get at a card game. Did they know what the Dealer was? What he could do for them? Did they know how much it would cost them in the long run? It was one thing to die. It was another to lose one’s soul. To come to a complete end. To exist no longer.
I nodded when Angel showed up. He stuck to the shadows at first, but once the game got under way, he went to work.
This was a game of luck and skill. It took total concentration. Damn it. I sucked at concentration. And I wasn’t all that lucky either.
Artemis watched the Dealer like a leopard watched its prey. Anytime he leaned close to deal or to gather cards or chips, a low rumble escaped her chest. No one there could hear it, of course, except for the demon. But to his credit, he never flinched. He pretended to be oblivious, but surely he could see what I was. He could hear Artemis and Angel. He didn’t seem particularly worried, though. Angel sucked at cards as bad as I did. I was down a cool seventeen mil. Or seventeen hundred. Probably seventeen hundred. I’d lost track a while ago and was now waiting for him to bargain, to offer to forgive the debt if I’d just give up my soul. He had yet to make that offer, but the night was young. Really young. We’d played only one hand.
Even with Angel walking around the table, telling me what everyone’s hands consisted of, I lost. Probably because knowing what everyone was holding didn’t matter. I had no idea what constituted a winning hand. If two pairs beat three of a kind. If a full house beat a straight flush, two poker terms that always reminded me of a house full of people with only one toilet. Not sure why.
“You gotta get better at this shit,
mijita,
” Angel said. “You only brought two thousand dollars and you just lost seventeen hundred. In one hand.”
A minuscule smile played about the Dealer’s mouth as he watched me. He could clearly hear Angel. Could probably see him, too. But I wondered if he could feel Reyes. The human body he’d inhabited may act as a barrier, making him unable to feel the heat that engulfed the room as Reyes watched without materializing. It was impossible to be certain.
“If you’re going to send a boy to spy on me, make it a boy worth my time.”
So he was ready to drop the charades. I was cool with that. I never could remember the difference between the gestures for words and syllables, anyway.
Angel was offended. Naturally. “Are you talking about me,
pendejo
?”
The Dealer spared him a humorous glance. “I could feast upon your soul, little one, and still have room for dessert.”
I leaned forward to get his attention back on me. “You can’t have his soul. You can’t take a soul unless it was handed to you willingly while the person was still alive. I know the rules, asswipe.”
“Such colorful language, Reaper. And you did your homework. I’m surprised. It’s not your style.”
The other men exchanged sideways glances, confused, wondering if they’d missed something as the Dealer studied me. “Is that really what I think it is, in your boot?”
My hand went to the dagger instinctively.
When I didn’t answer, he asked in awe, “You found it. I didn’t even know if it was real.”
“It’s real. Very real. But how did you know I had it?”
“Its glow, of course. You can’t see it?”
“No.” This not being able to see what other supernatural entities could was getting old.
He absorbed that, his expression calculative, then explained, “Let’s just say it makes an impression.”
The Dealer gathered the cards, getting a little too close to me, and Artemis let out another guttural growl. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Thank goodness she liked me. I couldn’t imagine what the demon was thinking.
He shuffled and said casually, “Call off your dog.”
I reached down and caressed her ears. “She’s fine right where she is.”
“Not that one.” He began dealing. “Rey’aziel.”
He did feel him. And he clearly knew who he was.
“He’s fine right where he is, too.”
He finished dealing, his long fingers nimble as they handled the cards like a seasoned pro. Then again, he probably was a seasoned pro. “Show yourself,” he said to Reyes.
And Reyes materialized behind me. I looked up at him. “I’m not doing well.”
“I can see that.”
The other men at the table were now completely confused. This was poker.
High-stakes
poker. Not the strip poker I usually played. I sucked at that, too. And the Dealer and I were talking crazy. Poker did that to people.
“Rey’aziel,” the Dealer said without looking up from the cards. “It’s been a long time.”
Reyes stepped to the side and leaned against the wall. “Funny, I don’t remember you.”
The statement seemed to sting him. He flinched—so quickly, I almost missed it. “You wouldn’t.”
Surprise flashed in Reyes’s expression. He pushed off from the wall and seemed to be staring straight through the Dealer. I looked again but saw nothing.
“You’re marked,” he said, astounded. “You were a slave.”
The barest hint of a smile lifted a corner of the Dealer’s mouth. “I was.”
“You’re Daeva.” Reyes scoffed as though suddenly disgusted by the creature before him. “You were created from the souls of my lost brethren. You never fell from heaven.”
The Dealer cast him a pointed stare. “And neither did you, or have you forgotten?”
“Not at all. I just thought I might have a fight on my hands. This shouldn’t take long,” he said as he stepped forward.
The Dealer stood, his chair scraping against the floor and falling back as he faced the son of the man who’d apparently created him as well. The light illuminated his face a bit more, and he let a wide, brilliantly white smile spread across it.
Angel grabbed my arm and pulled. “Charley, let’s go.”
“Still don’t recognize me?” the Dealer asked Reyes.
My nigh fiancé laughed softly in surprise, but it wasn’t a humorous laugh. It was filled with astonishment and, if I had to guess, an ounce of reverence.
“You escaped?” he asked as though that surprised him the most.
Angel tugged again.
I pulled him to my side and kept an arm locked around him protectively.
“We should go,” he said, whispering in my ear.
The Dealer’s chin went up, proud of his accomplishment. “I did. Of course, I didn’t have a map to get me through the void like you.” He gestured to the tattoos that lined Reyes’s upper body, the ones that made up a map to the gates of hell. “The gates of hell proved a bit tricky, but here I am.”
“And here you’ll die.”
He lifted one shoulder, unmoved. “I figured as much. I just need to have a conversation with the reaper, then we can finish this.”
Reyes stepped to my side at once, his expression hard. “I wouldn’t.”
Angel squeezed tighter, wanting out of Reyes’s reach and wanting me out of harm’s way.
“You’re in love with her,” the Dealer said. It wasn’t a question but a statement that held both wonder and admiration. I wasn’t sure why he would feel either. “It all makes sense now.”
“Don’t forget who I am,” Reyes said, his tone razor sharp, his stance rigid like a cobra about to strike. “You don’t need anything from her.”
One brow shot up, implying that the Dealer was so unimpressed, he didn’t know what else to do. “No, Your Highness, I don’t. But you do.”
Reyes stepped closer. “And what would that be?”
“Victory.” When Reyes remained silent, he continued. “It’s what I do, if you’ll remember. I win. And now, more than ever, you need a win.”
The air crackled with tension, the friction it caused creating a vortex of heat, Reyes’s anger was so palpable. He started for the Dealer, but I put a hand on his arm to stop him. Angel jerked out of my grip. I was too close to Reyes for his comfort. He stepped away from the melee, but to his credit, he didn’t disappear.
Reyes stopped at the feel of my touch and glanced down at me. It wasn’t a nice glance.
“Why do we need you?” I asked the Dealer, ignoring Mr. Grumpy Britches.
His intense gaze landed on me again, but the moment it did, Reyes growled. He looked back at him before answering. “Because there’s only one way to beat your father, and she holds the key.” He gestured to me with a nod of his head. “If she doesn’t live through this, Earth will become a very dark place.”
“Live through what?” I asked, but the Dealer didn’t look at me that time.
He kept a watchful eye on the predator. The more immediate danger. “The Twelve have escaped,” he said to Reyes, and though I had no idea who or what the Twelve were, Reyes seemed to have no trouble figuring it out.
His expression changed to one of astonishment. It wasn’t easy to astonish him.
“If they get to her,” he started, but Reyes recovered and interrupted before he could finish, much to my chagrin.
“They won’t.”
“They will if you don’t keep a very close eye on her. She gets into enough trouble without the Twelve making an appearance. They will rip her apart and make you watch while they do it.”
Reyes bit down so hard, I could hear his teeth grind. “They’ll try.”
“You need my help, and you know it.”
“This is like the prophecies Garrett found,” I told Reyes, patting his arm, trying to convince him to listen. “You and I are the key, remember?” I looked back at the Dealer, who didn’t dare meet my eyes.
But before I could question him any further, Reyes asked, “And why would you help us?”
“Why else? I want him dead as much as you do.” He leaned in, his mouth twisting into a snarl. “Even more so, I’d wager, and if you want to win this thing, you’ll listen to what I have to say. There’s only one way to bring him down. We can’t risk the reaper because of your pride.”
I started thinking back to when I’d first arrived at the game tonight. The Dealer didn’t seem the least bit surprised when I walked in. Surely he knew who I was the moment I showed up, like he was expecting me.
“Why am I here?” I asked him. “Did you arrange this?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I simply encouraged Mr. Joyce to seek you out through a few connections I have. He was desperate enough to do it.”
I released Zeus, pulling out the knife and holding it toward him as steady as I could. Which wasn’t very steady. I was shaking. And I had to pee.
“You’re still on my turf, stealing the souls of good people. And you stole that body you’re living in.”
“I didn’t steal anything. I was born on Earth, just like the prince.”
I gaped at Reyes. “He can do that?”
After a long hesitation, he nodded. “It’s a complicated process, but yes.”
“Wow, okay, but you’ve still stolen souls.”
He shrugged helplessly. “Man cannot live on bread alone. And I steal nothing. Whatever I take has been handed over to me willingly. I pay a very high price for the souls I take.”
“Not high enough.”
“You forget, they come to me and they are getting what they want in return. It’s a win–win.” When I only glared, he added, “I am not your enemy. We have a similar agenda.”
“I want Mr. Joyce’s soul returned to him.”
He threw his head back and laughed, and I sensed a genuine enjoyment in his reaction, as though I were entertaining to him like a fly might be to a spider. So that was annoying.
“And then,” I continued, letting my mouth lift into a patient smile, “I’m going to take this dagger, push it into your heart, and watch you die.”
“Well, then, that’s not a very good incentive for me to do what you want, now, is it?”
“You need to be brought down. I’m sorry, but it has to be done.”
“I believe you,” he said, surprised. “I think you are sorry, even if just barely. What if I only bargained for the souls of bad people? You know, murderers and child molesters and people who cut in line at the theater snack counter.”
There was a thought I could live with. Well, not the snack-counter thing, but … “You could be like the demonic version of Dexter.”
“Exactly,” he agreed.
“But how many have you taken in the past? How many good souls do you have to compensate for?”
He raised a helpless hand. “I’ve been on this plane in human form for more than two centuries,” he said, surprising me to my core. “If I had to guess, I’d say more than a few. Surely you won’t hold my past indiscretions against me.”
I stepped closer and his chin went up. He watched Zeus carefully, like one would watch a venomous snake poised to strike. “No more,” I said, my tone low and even. “Never again. And I want Mr. Joyce’s soul returned to him. I don’t care what kind of bargain he made, I want it canceled.”
“As you wish, but I want something in return.”
“Do not bargain with him,” Reyes said.
Of course, I ignored him. “What?”
He gestured toward Zeus with a congenial nod of his top hat. “The dagger.”
I snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding. The only way you’re getting this knife is when its blade slides into your chest.”
He shrugged. “It was worth a shot. Then how about you let me help you with this little Twelve problem, and it’s all his.”
“You can do that?”
“Dutch,” Reyes said, but I shushed him with an index finger. A very powerful index finger, it would seem, because he let me continue.
“You can return it to him?” I asked. “Good as new?”
The Dealer winced. “
New
is a strong word, but once it’s back in place, how it fares is up to him.”
I raised the knife again, but he stood his ground, albeit warily. “And no more, right?”
“No more, right. Only bad people.”
“No snack-counter line-cutters, either. They have to genuinely be bad, as in harmful to the human race.”
“Not a problem. I know a rapist down the street. I can live off him for weeks.”
“And I want Joyce’s soul returned immediately.”
He snorted. “Do you think me a fool?”
“I think you’re all kinds of a fool. There’s no telling when, or even if, these twelve jokers will show up.”
“Clearly, you have trust issues. I’ll give him back his soul when the favor is returned.”
“I’m returning it now by not burying this blade in your chest.”
He paused in thought, but only for a split second before saying, “You think that a favor?”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, so I deflected. “I think I’m bored. Leave Mr. Joyce’s soul alone.”
With that, I turned and walked out, completely unsure if I’d accomplished anything at all.
7
I lost my virginity,
but I still have the box it came in.
—T-SHIRT
Though I couldn’t be 100 percent certain, I got the distinct feeling Reyes was angry. He sat in Misery, his back rigid, his gaze averted, his jaw set to the consistency of marble. And he was still incorporeal. He could have vanished but didn’t. Did he want me to know how angry he was, or was he worried about this Twelve-pack? When he cast me a glare from underneath his lashes as we headed home, I glared right back.
“What?” I asked, my adrenaline level still high. My disbelief even higher. He wasn’t worried about the Twelve. He was angry with me. Me! What had I done now?
He shook his head and returned his attention starboard. When he spoke, his voice was low, calculated. “You did exactly what I said you would.”
“What? I have my soul. And my dignity. He didn’t get either one.”
“That’s debatable. You made a deal with him.”
“For the survival of humankind,” I said defensively. “Or something like that. Who are the Twelve?”
It took him a while to answer. Brooding did that. Took its time. Meandered. Wandered around, oblivious of the needs and impatience of others. It was kind of like a small child that way. Just when I was about to fill the uncomfortable void of silence with the theme song from
Gilligan’s Island,
he answered. Disappointment washed over me.
“The Twelve are most commonly referred to on my plane as the Twelve Beasts of Hell. But here on earth, they are most often referred to as hellhounds.”
“Hellhounds?” I asked, astonished. “For real? They’re hellhounds?”
“Yes. They were imprisoned centuries ago. It would seem they’ve escaped.”
I let a whistle slip through my lips. “Honest-to-goodness hellhounds. That’s unreal. Why were they imprisoned?”
“Have you ever met a hellhound?” He worked his jaw. “They’re unruly. Uncontrollable. They kill anything and everything in their paths. They were one of my father’s experiments gone bad.”
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “He created them?”
“Yes.”
“Like he created you?”
“No, not really. My father created me from his own flesh, which is why I am his son. He created no other being like me.” He gave me a sideways glance. “That’s not arrogance. It’s simply fact. One I’m not proud of.”
I was still busy trying to wrap my head around the whole hellhound thing. “Wait, what about the Dealer? You said he didn’t fall from heaven.”
“He was a slave, one of millions, also created by my father.”
“You called him Daeva.”
“Many scholars on earth believe Daeva and demons are one and the same. They are wrong. Demons, true demons, fell from heaven. They are the Fallen sons.”
“So, like, they’re purebred while the Daeva are, I don’t know, clones?”
“They are slaves. Period.”
I didn’t like that word unless I was using it to refer to Cookie. “You know, traditionally, slaves are simply an undervalued race of people. They are every bit as good and worthy as you or I.”
“Daeva are not a race,” he said, his voice hardening. “They are a creation of my father’s.”
“Why do you feel so much animosity toward them?” I asked, surprised.
“Who says I do?”
“Reyes, come on.”
“It’s complicated,” he answered at last. “When God first created the angels, they were referred to as the sons of God until he had one true son, created to lead humans, to clear their paths into Heaven. In that same sense, when my father first created the Daeva, they were called the sons of Satan until he had a one true son. Me. Then they were nothing but Daeva. They were not Fallen. They were not the sons. They simply were. And just as some angels became enraged by what they perceived as injustice from God’s favoritism of man over his own creations, some of the Daeva felt slighted when my father sought to create me. It complicated matters.”
“But you knew him? The Dealer?”
“Everyone knew him. He was a champion. He was the fastest and strongest being in hell, but he was a slave, destined to always be a slave. It was a position he didn’t care for.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I said, letting the sarcasm drip off my tongue. Then Reyes’s words sank in. “Wait, was he faster than you?”
Without looking at me, he nodded. I sucked in a soft breath of air.
“Stronger?”
After a lengthy pause, he said, “Yes. We never fought, but if we had, he would have won.”
I wouldn’t have been more surprised if a two-by-four appeared out of nowhere and slammed into my face. “So, really? He can beat you?”
“I believe he could have, yes, but that was in hell. This is a different plane with a different set of rules. Who’s to say what he can do here?”
“But why did you try to go up against him? If he’s that dangerous, why risk it?” When he didn’t answer, I pushed him, growing angry that he would risk himself so frivolously. “Reyes, why would you do that?”
“I’m too stunned to answer that right now.”
“What? Why?”
“I am astonished that you would ask me such a question.”
“Really? Do you know me at all?”
* * *
“Well, this has certainly been a day of revelations,” I said as Reyes and I walked from Misery into the apartment building together. He was apparently not leaving my side. “So, the Twelve beasts, huh? I’ll bet they’re fun at parties.”
“Not unless you like massacres,” he said, scanning the area as we walked.
“Not really. We probably shouldn’t invite them to our engagement party.” When he glanced at me in surprise, I added, “You know, if we have one.”
He followed behind me on the stairs. “Probably not.”
“I want to know more about the Dealer,” I said over my shoulder. “I mean, I didn’t even know they had slaves in hell. That place has to be bad enough without throwing the title of indentured servant into the mix.”
“My father has millions. He can create them from the remnants of lost demons.”
“Like from their DNA?”
“Something like that.”
“So, this Dealer was a champion? Of what? Volleyball?”
“Think more along the lines of gladiator.”
“Seriously? They play gladiator games in hell?” It just seemed unfathomable.
“We had a lot of free time.”
I stopped on the landing and turned toward him as he ascended behind me. “Reyes, I want you to give him a chance. I think he really is out to help us. You can be mad at me if you want, but I just think he really does want to see your father fall.”
“Sure he does. Wouldn’t you want to see your captor fall? It doesn’t mean we can trust him.”
“I think you’re letting your prejudices get in the way,” I said, turning to ascend the next flight.
“Dutch,” he said, taking my shoulders and urging me to face him, “you can’t ever trust Daeva. No matter how much they help. No matter what they do for you, they simply cannot be trusted.”
“I understand the generalization, but he’s different. There’s something very special about him, and I have a feeling we are going to find out what that is someday.”
“Not if you’re smart, you won’t.”
“I’m not stupid,” I said, growing tired of his questioning everything I did. “I do use common sense.”
“You have to have common sense to use it.”
I stiffened. He did not just say that. “You did not just say that.”
“When it comes to humans, Dutch, you are blind. You do things for them that no other person alive would do. And if you believe even remotely that this Daeva will help you in that endeavor, you’ll lose everything to him.”
“No person alive would do for me? That just goes to show how well you know humans. You may have been one for the last thirty years, but you know nothing of our spirit. Of our generous nature. It’s different for everyone, but most humans are kind and giving. And we care about our fellow man. And woman.”
“I know enough about humans to realize not one person on this earth would risk his life to save yours.”
“You’re wrong. And if my suspicions about the Dealer are right, you’ll be eating those words before all this is over. We allegedly have twelve very nasty creatures to fight, and I’d bet my last dollar he will be with us to the end.”
“At which point, he will trick you out of your soul and grow fat and old on you.”
I unlocked my door and shouldered my way in to block his entrance. “I’m tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He offered me an angry nod, then turned toward his own apartment.
I shut my door softly. He slammed his.
* * *
Cookie came in later than I did. I could hear her familiar footsteps on the stairs. She knocked softly before opening it, which was so not like her. “Are you still up?” she asked.
“I sure am. How’d it go?”
She still looked great and had a fresh glow to her face.
“Wait, you’re not falling for Barry, are you?”
“Oh, heavens no. But we had such a good time. It was fun to get out.”
“I’m glad.”
“Did Robert, I don’t know, ask about it?”
I giggled. “He did. It was great. He was dying to ask me, but it took him a while. Did you see the look on his face when he saw Barry?”
“Yes. Charley, I feel guilty.”
I pursed my lips. “Cook. I can feel emotions, remember? And it’s his own fault.”
“Oh, right.” She grinned. “I think this could work. He was stunned speechless when he saw my date.”
“Honey,” I said, putting a hand on hers, “he was stunned speechless when he saw you.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. I don’t think he’s into men.”
She dismissed that with a wave.
“You know what I mean.”
She had stars in her eyes. I guess I’d never realized how much she liked Ubie. I mean, it was Ubie. Who could’ve guessed that?
“So,” she said, easing up to the bigger questions of the night, “how was the card game?”
“I lost my ass. And, well, have you seen my ass?” I patted it to emphasize my point.
She laughed at first, then sobered. “Wait, really? You lost money?”
“Nah, I convinced the Dealer it would be in his best interest to let that one slide.”
“Oh, good. So, was he really a demon?”
“Yep, or as they are called, a Daeva. A slave demon.”
“They have slaves in hell?”
“Apparently. Crazy, huh?”
“Daeva. I like it.”
I explained to her what happened in great detail, mostly because I was having a hard time wrapping my head around everything myself. When I finished, she just kind of sat there. And stared. For a really long time.
I looked over at Mr. Wong. “I think I broke her.”
“No, I’m okay, but holy cow, Charley. This just gets deeper and deeper. I mean, when you told me you were the grim reaper, I thought, ‘What more can there be?’ But it just goes so much further than that. And now the Twelve? Seriously? It’s endless.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. You didn’t sign up for any of this.”
“Are you kidding? I love this shit. I wouldn’t trade my life for the world. Well, maybe the world. Is the Dealer in the market for a slightly used, thirty-something-year-old soul with a few dents in it? I could use a mansion in the Keys. And a Bentley. With chrome rims and a killer sound system.”
I laughed, partly out of relief. “I figured you more as a Rolls-Royce kind of girl.”
“I’d take either.”
“I bet he’d take you up on that offer. I liked him,” I added, picturing his face.
“The Dealer?”
“Yeah. I mean, he was so young. Or, well, he looked young.”
“You have such a soft spot for kids. Are you sure that’s not what you’re feeling?”
“I love kids. They go great with fries and a shake.”
She chuckled. “How does Reyes feel about him?”
“He would rip out his spine if I let him.”
She patted my knee. “I would expect nothing less from the son of evil incarnate. He’s a good guy.”
“Yes, he is,” I agreed. “Even though he has a tendency to annoy me to the lowest levels of hell. Where there is no coffee.”
“But he looks amazing in an apron.”
“Right?”
We both fell into a dream state for a few seconds.
I snapped out of it first. “Okay, well, go to bed. We have a lot to do tomorrow. No rest for the wicked, and all that crap.”
* * *
Cookie was right. Reyes was a good guy. He’d done so much for me. And put up with so much from me. Then again, I had to put up with his alpha-esque personality. Lucky for him, I had excellent self-control. Otherwise, I’d end up kicking his ass every other day, leaving him fetal and whimpering, and then where would we be?
I got ready for bed and changed into something more comfortable, namely a T-shirt with a pair of bottoms that said, PEEL TO REVEAL PRIZE. After weaving my hair into a soft braid, I curled onto my most fabulous mattress, the one I got at a going-out-of-business sale, and snuggled into the thick folds of my Bugs Bunny comforter.
But even insulated, I could feel Reyes’s heat. It leached through the wall and surrounded me in a gentle, soothing warmth. He’d been living next door for a few weeks now, and I wondered if I’d ever get so accustomed to being enveloped in his delicious heat that I wouldn’t notice it. Probably not. Standing next to him was like standing next to an inferno—to me, anyway. And pretty much only to me. If Cookie had been there, she wouldn’t have felt it, which made no sense. Humans could feel the cold of the departed when they were near. Both the departed’s cold and Reyes’s heat were supernatural occurrences. Why could they feel one and not the other?
But the fact that Reyes’s heat could penetrate walls had surprised me the first time I noticed it. Our beds butted up against the same wall, and I could tell the minute he crawled into bed every night. And not just because I was with him about half the time when that happened. Even in my own apartment, I could feel him. He was always hottest when he first crawled into bed. As he drifted to sleep, his heat dissipated a bit. He was still unnaturally warm even in slumber, but not so much as when he was awake. And especially not so much as when he was angry. Or, well, in the throes of passion.
Scalding
would be an appropriate adjective for that.
But the heat wafting toward me now had the consistency of anger. I lifted a hand and placed my palm on the Sheetrock that separated us. It was scorching, almost painful.
Yep, anger.
He’d been lying in bed, probably thinking of the best way to dispose of the Dealer. I would have to convince him otherwise for the time being. The Dealer was different from other Daeva. He’d been born on earth. He was, in every sense of the word, human. Partly, at least. And very much like Reyes himself.
So if Reyes was going to stew in his own anger, fine. I did what I had to do, and he would just have to learn to live with it. We were nigh affianced. He had to take the good with the bad. And besides, I could give Reyes Alexander Farrow something much better to think about.
I wondered if he could feel my emotions through the wall, because his heat grazed over my fingertips and along my palm as though purposefully. As though it had an agenda.
Reyes could do amazing things with his essence. He could send it out. He could skim it over my skin. He could bury it deep inside me until I writhed in ecstasy. I wondered if I could do that, too.
I’d left my body before. I’d killed a man in the process, but from that experience, I knew it was possible, but could I control it the way Reyes could? He’d come to me hundreds of times, even when we were growing up, before I knew who, or what, he was. And now I’d done it. My essence, my spirit, had left my body. Could I do it again? The first time was under extreme duress. I wasn’t duressed at the moment. A little stressed, maybe. A little befuddled at what had happened with the Dealer, with everything he’d told us, but not duressed.
Still, I was the grim reaper. I had to get a grip. Figure this shit out before I was ripped apart by a hellhound. I had to learn what I could and could not do, and I had to learn to control it. What better test subject than someone who was almost indestructible? I could be like a mad scientist, and Reyes could be my experiment. What could go wrong?
