Gabriel's Hope (#1, Rhyn Eternal) (3 page)

“Speaking of preying on those weaker than you, I have an interest in your … patient.”

“You and many others.” Wynn removed his shoes and sat nearby, uneasy but unwilling to show it. Deities did not summon formerly dead-dead Immortals to them without a compelling reason.

“Vengeance is a strong motivator, even for me,” Fate began. “I am curious,
doctor
, did you know she would come to you or did you stumble upon her?”

“You know the answer,” Wynn said. “Let’s not play games with one another today. I cannot possibly have anything you want.”

“I monitor and balance potential outcomes and free will. There’s room for curiosity about the motivations of others,” Fate said.

Wynn met the deity’s gaze, which flickered between all the colors in the universe. He’d met Fate once. It was impossible to forget Fate or Death or any other deity once one crossed their paths or to deny that such creatures not only existed, but played a game no one else understood or had a chance of winning. Wynn didn’t like being out of control, at the mercy of one he couldn’t predict or manipulate.

“For example, before you ran into her in the mortal world, there was a ninety seven percent chance you would’ve killed her the first time you met. Now, there’s less than a one percent chance,” Fate continued. “You’ve gone so far as to eliminate some of the enemies who likewise stumbled across her.”

“I do not need to explain my actions to you.” Wynn looked away. “What do you want from me?”

“You are close to crossing the line where you mess with the Future. You have been for awhile.”

“You have a preferred outcome,” Wynn said, suddenly comprehending why he’d been involuntarily summoned. “You don’t want me to influence it.”

“Some laws from the time-before-time cannot be broken,” Fate replied.

“Those rules are very few.”

“You will have to trust me when I say this is one of them.”

“Will you tell me one thing?” Wynn asked. “What is your motivation to interfere now?”

“I have no motivation.” Fate smiled. “Ask what you mean to ask, Wynn. I may answer it.”

Wynn’s jaw clenched. No, he didn’t miss this aspect of his past life. Dealing with deities was a nightmare. He hated the idea of being vulnerable, and concern for another was vulnerability.

“Are you going to save her?” He forced the words out.

“From what?” Fate asked with faux innocence.

“I made a mistake. I cannot fix it.”

“It’s not so bad to admit you were wrong, is it?”

“How do you think it feels to live with the regret that stems from having done something beyond reparation to someone as beautiful as she is in this life?” Wynn asked in barely controlled anger.

“No idea. I’ll never have that problem,” Fate said with a shrug.

“If you are finished with me, I have work to do.” Wynn rose, fed up.

“Her destiny lies with Death.”

Wynn debated the meaning behind the words. There was more than one interpretation, and he admitted at last he wasn’t certain what Fate was telling him.

“She brought me back for a reason,” Wynn said. “I’d like to think there’s greater meaning to both of us being reincarnated.”

“It’s not lost on me that you repay her for that favor by killing her,” Fate said. “Slowly, while you hold her hand and lower her into eternal rest. Beautiful, Wynn. I’ve been watching the events unfold with no small amount of entertainment.”

“It was a kinder revenge than she deserved,” he replied. “I know you agree with me.”

“Very much so, especially when you consider she stole your heart not once but twice.”

“She has a way about her.”

“She will never be yours.”

Wynn’s breath caught at the stark pronouncement from the enigmatic deity. His body was tense, his memories flowing unabated. He hadn’t expected anything different when he met the reincarnated Deidre a few years ago and started down this path. When his mind changed from vengeance to compassion, he wasn’t certain. Perhaps the day he realized what he’d done was irreparable, and he was going to lose her twice.

Fate knew what Wynn intended to do, had he left his office to find Deidre before she left the hospital. The deity dragged Wynn here to warn him against altering his plan for revenge. Wynn lost this round.

“I understand,” he managed. “I will not interfere in that regard. Anything else?”

“No.”

Wynn nodded once. He took a step and was back in the hallway. Fate dropped him in front of the door to Deidre’s exam room, a twisting of the knife in his heart. With a deep breath, Wynn turned away and retreated to his office.

No apologies. No regrets.

Chapter Two

Death was almost seven feet tall, built more solid than a tree trunk with hair and eyes darker than a moonless night. The weapons lining his body and tucked into pockets of his trench coat were items of comfort rather than necessity; his hands alone had ended the lives of more humans and Immortals than there were stars in the sky he stared into. Dawn lined the horizon in faint yellow. He watched his expelled breath float away from him, his calm features hiding the anger in his blood.

“Cancel all contracts. We’ve got to figure out this shit,” he told the female death-dealer beside him.

“Gabriel,
why
does this keep happening?” the red-headed assassin asked, frustration in her voice.

His gaze went from the sky to her to the body at her feet. A competent, methodical assassin, she didn’t make the mistake of trying to collect from someone not on the list. And yet, this wasn’t the human she came for. Just like every other soul collector Gabriel sent out the past week, Harmony had gone on a mission and returned empty-handed. It was better than the alternative: returning with the wrong soul, which almost happened twice today.

Immortal Code, Rule 5329: Death shall not knowingly claim a soul not on the list,
he recited silently.

In the matter of seven days, Gabriel had come close to breaking more Immortal Codes governing Death’s actions in the mortal world than his predecessor did over hundreds of thousands of millennia. His predecessor, referred to as
past-Death
by his collectors, made exactly two mistakes, the second of which landed Gabriel his new gig ruling the underworld. Four months after becoming Death, Gabriel was trying to salvage what he could of the underworld as it crashed and burned. He followed all the rules in the Code, but he couldn’t help thinking he was doing something …wrong.

“I went to the soul I heard,” the assassin said. “I swear it. I came right here, where the radar brought me. It’s not here. This guy isn’t even on the list.” She wiped her face and paced. “I failed you. I messed up.”

“You didn’t fail me, Harmony,” Gabriel said. “You broke no part of the Immortal Code, and you followed our procedures. The radar led you astray. It’s outside of your control.”
Like every other part of my life.
This part he kept silent for fear of spooking someone he was supposed to be leading.

“But if this guy wasn’t supposed to die tonight, where is the soul I came for?”

They were in the middle of the desert in New Mexico. It was cold, sandy – and completely void of any other signs of life for miles. Death-dealers operated off a sense of soul radar that pulled them like magnets to the lives that were on Death’s list to be ended. Except, a week ago, all the radars of his army of grim reapers had gone haywire. Sometimes, the souls they sought were a few feet from the ones they claimed. Sometimes, the humans or Immortals targeted for extermination or soul extraction were on the other side of the world.

“I don’t know this guy from Adam,” he said.

“Adam who?” she asked, confused.

Gabe glanced at her. “It was an attempt at levity.”

“This is no time for a joke!”

“He’ll show up downstairs eventually,” he said, referring to his underworldly domain. “Everyone does.”

Harmony’s frown was fierce. Not many people appreciated a sense of humor crafted over millennia as a sanctioned killer for Death. Most Immortals had no mirth in the first place. As the sole living resident of the underworld with human origins, Gabriel was often reminded of how different he remained. Right now, he was too frazzled to know what else to do aside from make a joke to ease some of the tension.

“If you feel the need to expel me for almost breaking the Code, I will go where you bid,” Harmony said in a quieter voice. “Or cast myself into the Lake of Souls.”

“The Lake’s at capacity,” he replied.

“Very well. When the Lake has subsided, I will throw myself in.” The determination in Harmony’s voice left him no doubt she’d do it.

Gabriel chuckled. “No, you won’t. Relax. Thank you for calling me.”

“I must. It’s my duty.”

“I’m more concerned with why this guy has no soul. The demons beat us here again,” Gabriel shifted. “The last thing I need is an Army of Souls in the hands of those bastards. I can’t figure out how they’re tracking the dead.”

“Darkyn is very powerful.” Harmony’s voice held a hushed note of reverence that irked Gabriel.

“He’s a demon lord but not a deity,” he pointed out.

“Oh, sorry Gabriel. I keep forgetting you are now.”

“Thanks,” he said drily.

“I didn’t mean … you’re really trying … um, and doing your best.” She met his gaze at last, a red flush creeping across her face. With forest colored eyes and an athletic body, she towered over most men. The top of her head reached his chin.

“Appreciate the encouragement.”

“Sorry, Gabe,” she mumbled. “Where do I sleep tonight?”

He assessed her. While he wanted nothing more than to kill past-Death over and over for fucking him over, he was forced to admit the death-dealers that survived the recent demon attacks were loyal, honorable and ruthless. All traits he admired. His predecessor chose the best, like the cautious and steady Immortal awaiting his decision. There was no spontaneity – or surprises – to her. He never had to wonder how many men were rotating through her bed or when she was planning to stab him in the back or decipher the riddles she gave him as answers to important questions. His last lover – the only other he’d ever taken – had been the opposite of Harmony.

He never wanted to deal with the unexpected in his personal life again. At least, he thought he didn’t when he invited Harmony to his bed. Most nights, she wasn’t enough to settle his restless blood. He had sex and went back to work, unable to sleep knowing all the issues he couldn’t fix. Though he never felt that way sleeping with past-Death, he valued trusting the woman in his bed over potential rejection.

“Where you’ve slept every night for the past two months,” he answered.

She appeared relieved.

“I’ll be late,” he said. “Don’t wait up. Grab this guy and take him downstairs in case his soul pops up later.”

“Will do.” Harmony bent and lifted the dead man in a fireman’s carry. She called forth a portal, and what looked like a cave opened in the air before them.

Gabriel followed her into it. Portals to various places in the mortal and underworlds glowed in the in-between shadow realm. Mortal portals were like sunshine, the underworld the color of a storm cloud, and the portal to Hell blacker than Gabe’s eyes. Harmony disappeared through the gray portal while Gabe took one of the yellow portals.

He emerged at the Caribbean Sanctuary, one of four places that connected the mortal and immortal worlds. Governed by Death, the Sanctuaries were located on islands protected by magic and tended by convents of Immortal nuns, who helped any who came to them.

The room of the Sanctuary where he materialized consisted of nothing more than a lectern holding a massive book possessed by a long-dead Oracle. In its pages, the events of the Past were recorded, the Present written and the Future a blur of potential outcomes.

Not that he could see the Future. He’d hoped to be granted the same level of power as his predecessor. Instead, he’d found his vision unchanged. Gabe strode to the lectern and watched the words of the Present being written across the pages. They leapt from the pages to create visions before him that then swirled and turned back into words. He could see the Past and Present. Never the Future.

The balmy morning breeze drifting in from the small window was fragrant with the scents of the ocean and bread from the Sanctuary’s kitchens.

“Any news today?” he asked the Oracle.

More visions formed. These were of demons gathering the souls of dead mortals while death-dealers missed the lives meant to be ended. The Oracle was re-writing the present, based on who was killed and who had lived that wasn’t supposed to.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Anything more useful?”

The images returned to the pages. The Oracle was quiet, scribbling words. As he watched, the words reached the page on the right, the one reserved for the Future. Interested, he read the message addressed to him.

Did you not receive my first summons? You cannot avoid me forever.

The scribbling stopped with an image that left him irritated. What kind of deity added a smiley face to its messages?