Authors: Colleen Gleason
“The egg donor tried to take me and Jus to Mexico one time,” Lexi said. “You came home from work and caught her before she took off with us. You never said, but I think she was all drugged up or something. I used to wonder why you ever married her. Now I know.”
Interested, he leaned forward. “Why?”
“Me. You knocked her up. You two got married in December. I was born in March.”
“Oh.” Lexi stared at him like there should have been something else that followed. He tacked on, “Sorry,” though he was a bit fuzzy on what he’d apologized for.
“I don’t remember her being so bad when I was a kid,” she said, like she was a hundred years old now, “but after Justin came, she went off the deep end.”
“Did I know she was crazy?”
“You were at work all the time and she never acted that way around you. She always pretended to be the perfect mom when you were home.”
It occurred to him that he didn’t even know what Sam had done for a living, but it was a sure bet that he’d need to find a different career now—he didn’t imagine reaping was listed on any employment sites. A dark voice of humor suggested
undertaker
.
He ignored it and focused on Lexi.
“I didn’t even notice how anxious you were?” he asked.
“You remember that?”
The hope in her voice almost made him want to lie. He shook his head. “I just figured ...”
“We pretended, too,” she said. “Even Jus, and he was only one. When you came home, everything got safe. We didn’t want that wrecked, too.”
Like a knife, up under his heart. The pain was so strong, so shockingly sharp, that he couldn’t speak for a moment.
“I’m sorry things have been so crazy for you,” he managed at last.
“
Batshit
.”
“And I never caught on? How did the divorce happen, then? Did
she
ask me for it?”
“You really don’t remember?” she demanded suspiciously.
Not a damn thing. Was that normal for anyone who didn’t want to face their past? Denial, they called it. When she’d sat in the hospital, waiting for him to die, Maggie had said she’d spent months in denial.
“Geez,” Lexi said, taking his silence as an answer. “None of it?”
“Nope.”
“You filed for divorce after she tried to burn the house down with us in it, just like Maggie said last night. You came home early and stopped her. We stayed at a friend’s house for a few days, and when we came home, we were living in an apartment and mom was in the hospital. That’s what you told us when we asked. I’m pretty sure it was a mental hospital, but you never said. We were just so happy to be with you.”
Her gaze moved over his face, up to the raw scar above his ear. The bandage and stitches were gone and his hair had started to grow around it, but it still looked ugly.
“Who shot you, Dad?” she asked.
It was the first time she’d ever addressed him with the paternal title. Once more, something flipped inside him and lit him with a different kind of panic. He’d been blithely unaware of the hell their mother inflicted, and still this child had once thought him an anchor in a storm. She’d depended on him to keep her safe.
And he’d left her—without a word, according to Maggie.
“I don’t know who shot me. The police said I had scratches on my hands, like I’d been in a struggle. I don’t remember that either. It’s just a big blank from the time we buried your aunt until I woke up in the hospital—except I can remember meeting Maggie.”
Lexi had been clutching her backpack in front of her like a shield. Now she let it slip to the ground. “I used to like her,” she said. “When you first brought her home.”
“What made you stop?”
“You changed after you married her. You got mean. As crazy as
she
was.”
“I what?”
Lexi shifted uncomfortably. “I was all excited about having a mom who, you know, didn’t want to kill us and all. But then you OD’d on the batshit, too. You were always thinking something was following you. Sometimes it was hound dogs, sometimes—”
“
Hound dogs?”
She nodded. Could she mean hellhounds? A cold chill went through him. Surely, not?
“And birds. Birds really freaked you out.”
“All birds?”
Lexi shot him a weary glance. “Does it matter?”
To him, it did. Ravens were messengers of evil. Fearing them was a wise choice. But how would Sam know that? Why did he think they were following him? He tried to find a way to ask about demons without sounding
batshit
but couldn’t come up with one so kept quiet.
“Then one night you locked us all in your room upstairs and barricaded the doors.”
“Why?”
She raised her brows in an expression that clearly said,
who knows?
“Nothing ever tried to get in?” he asked.
“Nope. You left after that. Maybe a day or two later. You never even said goodbye. Maggie was pretty torn up.”
And Lexi had been devastated. She didn’t say it, but she didn’t need to. He saw it in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
She stared at him with eyes that wanted to believe, but something she read in his expression shut her down. He didn’t know what. She stood, jerking her backpack off the floor. “You said that then, too. Are we done now? I have homework.”
She didn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, she hurried to the stairs, blue lines around her eyes already smearing as she rubbed away the tears that made them shimmer. She had gone maybe three steps up when something in the air shifted and chilled. It glommed in the corners of the ceiling and seeped down to the floor.
Sam stood and crossed to the base of the staircase just as Lexi paused and glanced around with a frown.
“Lex, come back down,” he said carefully, as calmly as he could.
Lexi had confirmed his fears. Before Sam had disappeared, he’d believed hellhounds and ravens were following him. He’d barricaded his family inside, afraid of what else was coming.
This thing in their house now was dead—a spirit, but more than that. Before, he’d feared that Sam had sold his soul, but he’d discarded the idea. Now he considered a different option. Whoever—whatever—this dead thing was, it
felt
of demon.
Had it tried to corrupt Sam’s soul and damaged it without successfully laying claim to it?
“Lexi, honey. Come back down.”
She gave him a quizzical look. Disconcerted, but not yet afraid.
Behind her, the air thickened like gel, blurring the wall. It seemed to surge from the flat surface, a pulsing disease. Lexi spun to face it just as it erupted a second time, making her stumble back. She tripped over her feet and lost her balance. He raced forward, catching her an instant before she plummeted onto the tile landing.
“You okay?” he asked, holding her tight as he searched the room for the thing that reeked of threat. He could feel it like a predator watching them, stalking them. Ghost or demon? He didn’t know. Lexi tried to squirm out of his grasp but he held her tight.
“Do you see anything?” he asked in a low, urgent voice. Justin had seen it; maybe she could, too.
Her eyes widened and he saw the wary light enter them.
Batshit
. That’s what her expression said. The phone ringing in the kitchen made her look away. Sam glanced at it, but didn’t dare leave Lexi to answer it.
Whatever waited in this house, the Reaper who’d become a part of Sam Sloan knew that running would only make it worse. He needed to show himself–his natural, terrible Reaper self, but how could he do that with Lexi in his arms?
When you came home, everything got safe
.
She didn’t feel safe, now, did she? She thought him crazy like her father had been before. Sam took a deep breath and let it out. If she knew the truth, Lexi would likely see no difference between the dark entity he felt moving around them and the man masquerading as her dad. If he kept the truth hidden, the lurking demon might make the point moot and steal from him this life he shouldn’t be living.
Lexi’s phone rang, but it was in the backpack on the stairs and she made no move to get it. But before she could pull away, a sound he couldn’t identify hissed against the windows. Grit, caught in a gust? No, the rapid, scratching noise had a meatier tone to it.
“What was that sound?” Lexi asked.
“I don’t know. Stay here.” For once, she didn’t argue and cautiously, he moved to the window and adjusted the slats so he could see out. Birds covered the front yard in a bobbing, jittery blanket. They’d settled in the tree by front door, on the grass, on the driveway. A big one sailed over them and landed on the porch with black wings stretched high and its beak open.
There was no way this was a good thing.
The ravens from the Beyond—because undoubtedly that’s what they were—had humanlike eyes and a queer malevolent focus. At one time, they’d worked for a specific demon, a vicious one who hated humans and had devoted his existence to destroying them. Lately, the birds had been free agents, working for any number of masters. Who had sent these ones?
“What time will Justin be getting home?” he asked in a strained voice.
“Like an hour. What’s going on?”
Sam no idea what the black birds wanted. For all he knew, they were there for him. Whatever his next move, though, he didn’t have long to make it.
Wearing her favorite realtor outfit—a coral skirt and matching flowered blouse—Maggie had driven to Scottsdale on autopilot, making turns at her navigator’s prompts and pulling up to the property she had listed so wrapped up in her thoughts that after she parked in the drive, she just sat there.
Yesterday, Sam had rocked her world. Last night, he’d rocked it right off its axis.
He’d told her he was a reaper.
A reaper
. What the hell did she do with that? It was so outlandish that she couldn’t even consider believing it.
And yet ...
What she’d seen in his eyes had been so raw, so naked and undeniably honest. Not a hint of crazy had lurked around the edges. He absolutely believed what he said ... which meant he
must
be crazy ... right?
And yet ...
She
had
sensed someone—something—in the corners of hospital room that day. She’d felt it coming closer. She’d even thought it touch her. An angel ... that’s what she told herself it must be. Or Sam’s soul, moving on. She’d found a way to accept both explanations.
If Sam had told her last night that he was an angel, she would have believed him. But a reaper? How could even begin to wrap her head around that?
She sighed and banged her head against the steering wheel. She didn’t have time to think about this now. Her clients would be there soon and if they arrived to find her like this, they’d likely keep driving. With a deep breath, Maggie got out.
The morning was cool for the end of May in Arizona, but as she stepped from the SUV, it didn’t feel fresh. The smell reminded her of that dank odor she’d caught a whiff of in Justin’s closet. Strange, oddly disturbing, and completely unfamiliar. Frowning, she moved up the pristine walkway, the hairs on her neck standing on end and a shiver tickling down her spine.
This was an older property with mature landscaping. Two giant Chinese elms spread their branches wide, offering solid shade that blotted out the sun with dense efficiency. Beneath them, it was almost gloomy. She’d asked the property owners to plant flowers around the walk in an effort to brighten it up. Now, neat little rows of vibrant yellow and deep orange blossoms escorted her to the door.
But they didn’t alleviate the dismal air hanging so thick that she might touch it if she tried.
Her code worked in the lockbox hanging from the knob and she stepped into the quiet, locking the door behind her automatically—an old habit she’d developed over the years when she’d lived alone. Setting her purse on the counter in the kitchen, she began her usual prep, opening all the curtains and blinds, turning on lights. The house was empty so there was no clutter to stash or furniture to rearrange. She lit the cinnamon candle on the counter and did a quick tour anyway; just to make sure everything was in place. It all looked perfect until she returned downstairs.
The candle was out and all the curtains were closed tight. She stared at them, knowing that she hadn’t imagined opening them a few minutes ago. Nervously, she looked around, methodically checking that both the front and back doors were locked. Digging her mace out of her purse, Maggie moved through the house again, room by room, checking behind doors, looking in closets. Finding nothing but shadows. She had no explanation for the curtains, but already her mind was trying to work out a valid excuse. Maybe the rods were warped and they’d drifted back. It could happen—she’d seen it happen—but never so quickly and on every window. Still, she’d verified that the house was deserted, and since she didn’t have any other explanations, she decided to believe the one made her feel better.
Gingerly, she went back downstairs and opened the curtains again, noting that yes, they slid all too easily on the rods. With bright sun spilling in and the candle lit once more, Maggie pulled out her phone and scrolled through her emails while she waited for her clients, ignoring the weird, menacing feeling that seemed to float in the dust mites. Things had been nuts in her world for the past two weeks, and Sam’s declaration had only added to it. She refused to let herself become freaked out by the weighted silence that had closed in.
Today was a half day of school and Lexi should be home by now. Justin went to the after school program and wouldn’t be finished until two-thirty. The mundane facts grounded her. She’d have plenty of time to show the house, lock it up and get back before Justin needed to be picked up. She sent Lexi a text, “Home?” and waited for an answer. A few seconds later, “Yes.”
Such were the meaningful conversations they held. Sighing, she slipped her phone back into the side pocket of her purse.
Her clients should be there any moment. She gave the curtains a worried glance and went to wait by the front door.
As she approached the foyer, a harsh wind suddenly howled and buffeted against the house, and the front door swung slowly open. Her footsteps faltered as she stared it, while her mind spun through a rapid fire of possible explanations. None stuck. The door had been shut tight and locked. She’d checked it twice.