Gabriel's Hope (#1, Rhyn Eternal) (5 page)

“I’ll send someone up tonight.”

“Uh, yeah, this guy has a connection to you. You need to go.”

Rhyn was trying to be casual about it, but the half-demon had never asked Gabe for anything and was incapable of subtlety. This was important. Gabe had never heard of Logan Myers and didn’t know what connection he might have, considering he had no living relatives or friends, aside from Rhyn and Katie.

“I don’t know this guy from Adam,” Gabe said then waited.

Rhyn grinned then laughed.

“It’s funny, right?” Gabe said.

“Yeah.”

Satisfied someone got his humor when none of the death-dealers did, Gabe grew thoughtful. They were all serious, absorbed with following the Immortal Code and performing their duties. They lived for nothing more. He’d been like that once. He changed so gradually, he didn’t notice how much different he’d become, until he realized how much he was enjoying talking to his friend.

Rhyn was right. The death-dealers were boring to talk to.

“You’re not gonna tell me why?” he asked with the same casual tone Rhyn used.

“Sometimes the head of the Council That Was Seven has to be discreet.” Rhyn said through clenched teeth with a look of distaste.

“I can’t get used to the political side of the job, either,” Gabe said. “And you’re welcome for rescuing you, and Katie and your unborn hatchling from the demons and –“

“He’s connected to your ex-girlfriend.” Rhyn threw up his hands in surrender. “You didn’t hear it from me. I’m out.”

Gabe watched him disappear through a portal, not understanding. He only had one ex-girlfriend, past-Death, and she was presumed dead. She had to be, or he wouldn’t have been able to assume her role as Death. On the smallest of chances she was alive, she would’ve had to find a loophole to surrender her duty without losing her soul. While he could see her figuring it out, he couldn’t see her choosing the mortal world. Her biggest issue with him had always been what she perceived as his
weakness:
his humanity and compassion for others.

Unless she came to the mortal world to torment more humans.
That
he saw happening.

He shook his head. Though he didn’t know what connection past-Death had to some human, he trusted Rhyn above everyone. If nothing else, he’d check out this Logan guy this evening and see whatever it was Rhyn wanted him to see. In the meantime, he’d learn to use the compass better and decipher the symbols.

Twelve hours and forty three souls later, Gabriel gave up on the icons. No matter where the compass pointed, it led him to the correct body. The symbols were useless to him. He knelt over the latest body with a glance at his forearm.

Logan Myers had been dead for a couple of days at least. His body was hidden in the brush near a beach. Rhyn was right about the demons; Gabe smelled demon blood and saw the gashes across Logan’s throat. He hadn’t been attacked by anything remotely human or animal. A demon tore off his neck and face and drained him of blood. It’d be hard to spot the shape-shifter demon posing as Logan with his face shredded.

“At least they didn’t eat you,” Gabe consoled the dead man quietly. “Hard to get a soul that way. Come on out.”

The green fog appeared at his words. He watched the green gem form in his palm and rose. He put it with the others in his pocket. The sound of the ocean was calming under the full moon, the steady ebb and flow of waves drawing him to sit on the beach.

Why was he disappointed not to find …more? Some reminder of past-Death, a sign she cared for him, a hint at the connection between this Logan and the woman Gabriel knew.

“The soul radar takes me to you, if nowhere else.”

Gabe glanced up at Harmony’s voice. He patted the sand beside him.

“Business or pleasure?” he asked.

“Business,” his second-in-command and current lover said, seating herself.

“What broke this time?”

“The portal. I was delivering your orders and tried to get home but couldn’t.”

“How many are trapped up here?” he asked, irritated.

“Maybe twenty.”

“I’ll get it fixed,” he said. He had no clue how and hoped the portal still worked for him. After all, the underworld was his. It couldn’t deny its master.

Harmony was looking at him. “Don’t you want to try it?”

“In a minute. I’m taking a break.”

“Oh.”

He doubted his night – or his next few thousand years – was going to get any better than this. He glanced at Harmony, whose green gaze was on the ocean. She was gorgeous in the moonlight, and desire stirred his blood.

“Since we might not make it back tonight, you wanna, you know, do something here?” he asked.

“There are four hundred and thirty three people within five kilometers waiting for Death,” she said. “Though how accurate –”

“I wasn’t talking about work,” he said.

“You mean…” She was skeptical. “On the beach? Is that where humans do it?”

“Never mind,” he said. For some reason, he felt more disappointed. He stood and offered her his hand. “We’ll try the portal.” He pulled her up and called a portal. The gray door to the underworld was present for him.

“I tried several times,” Harmony said. “A few of us did.”

“I believe you. Go home. I’ll find the others.”

She hesitated. “Gabriel, I can stay with you, on the beach. If you want.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “We’ll have time after I rescue the rest of the assassins.”

“I’ll wait up.” She smiled and walked through the portal to the underworld.

Gabe faced the ocean. His gaze went back to the dead man Rhyn wanted him to find. Puzzled, restless, he returned and crouched beside Logan Myers. If Rhyn’s Immortals were watching Logan, they’d have known he was dead when Rhyn found Gabe this morning. What was he supposed to be looking for?

With another look around, Gabe left. He had twenty assassins to rescue and countless souls waiting to be claimed. He’d come back later.

Duty first, as usual.

Chapter Three

By Saturday morning, Deidre was certain she never wanted to leave the ocean. She plopped an omelet onto Logan’s plate then turned around to make her own.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it,” she said, grinning.

“Nothing has gotten into me,” he replied in a deadpan voice. He ate without waiting for her, his eyes either glued to her or the door.

“I guess the sea breeze is good for the libido,” she continued. “You’re a demon in the sack this weekend. Reminds me of when we just met.”

“You think I’m a demon?”

She glanced at him. Was he offended or surprised? Deidre rolled her eyes without answering and went back to cooking her breakfast. She breathed in the ocean air. The bungalow cost as much as to rent for the weekend as a month of her apartment, but she’d never been happier.

“I never realized how much I missed nature. I’ve lived in Atlanta since I started college. Do you ever miss the countryside?” she asked.

“No.”

“I really like it here.”

She should definitely stay longer. She thought about it as she sprinkled cheese into the skillet. It wasn’t like she was saving her money for anything. She’d be dead soon anyway.

No apologies, no regrets,
she repeated the mantra she adopted when Wynn first diagnosed her as terminal.

“You want to stay here for the whole week?” she asked.

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I think so. Isn’t it the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen?”

“The lack of security is unsettling. There are no locks on the doors or windows, and only one route of egress in the case of an emergency.”

Okay, the sex was phenomenal last night, but their conversations had gone further downhill. Logan was an accountant, not a security guard, yet he barricaded the doors with furniture before bed in case there were criminals wandering the beach. He flat out refused to go out after dark last night.

“Whatever. It’s a full moon tonight,” she said hopefully.

“Yes.” His voice was thoughtful.

She dumped her omelet onto her plate and faced him, leaning against the counter to eat. He’d inhaled his breakfast. His green eyes were distant. At under six feet tall, Logan was still almost half a foot taller than she was.

“Bonfire?” she prodded. “Or, you know, just a quickie in the moonlight.”

“No, I think I’m going to town tonight.”

“Good idea. We can go out.”

“No, just me.”

“Care to explain why you want to go out on a Saturday night without your girlfriend?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.

“I’m ah … not sure.” He didn’t look at her. “I’ll be back Monday.”

And then it hit her. Monday was their two year anniversary. He was going to propose. Deidre almost dropped her breakfast. She told him a million times there was no way she was going to marry him then turn around and die. They argued about marriage for weeks before he finally went silent on the matter. She’d thought he dropped it; maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he figured she’d change her mind if she saw a ring.

He was in for a surprise if he tried. Angry at him again, she realized she’d been trying to work up the courage to break up with him for weeks. She had a private bucket list she didn’t show him, one with things on it she wasn’t sure she should want. Like, hooking up with a stranger at a bar like they did in movies and a few sex positions she’d been subtly trying to talk him into.

Unsuccessfully.

She was a few weeks out from never having these opportunities again.

“Okay,” she said. “Have fun.”

He looked relieved. She
felt
relieved. As much as she cared for him, he was driving her crazy the past few months. He didn’t seem to get it. Her bucket list was getting longer while her time was getting shorter. He wanted to mourn and tread water until the inevitable. She wanted to do everything she’d ever wanted.

“You want to walk to the farmer’s market this morning?” she asked.

He hesitated then said, “No.”

“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll see you later.”

She couldn’t really be irritated with him. He was, after all, taking time off work during the busiest time of the year for an accountant to be with her. It counted for something but did nothing to soothe her anger.

Dressed in a sundress and sandals, Deidre left the bungalow on the beach and walked down the long driveway to the small road. She marveled at the world, the gentle sunshine, beautiful sky, the fragrant ocean breeze that ruffled her pink-striped blond hair, the soft crunch of gravel beneath her shoes. This was the most perfect place in the world.

The farmers market was teeming with the locals and makeshift booths lining a cordoned off section of the beach town nearby. She meandered through it, absorbing the life around her. Fresh produce, homemade foods, handmade crafts and soaps. She touched, smelled and tasted everything she could, determined to remember every pleasurable part of every day she had left. The homemade ice cream stand drew her attention, and she crossed to it.

“Can I help …” he stopped.

Deidre glanced up with a smile. The guy behind the counter was staring at her, his mouth lax and his eyes wide. For the second time in as many days, she thought she saw red tattoos flash. They faded as she looked directly at them. Were these the first of the hallucinations Dr. Wynn warned her about?

“Are you here for me?” he whispered.

“Um, no,” she turned to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else. “Just for ice cream.”

“You’re sure?”

“That’s kinda why I came to an ice cream stand,” she said with a laugh.

“What flavor?”

“Surprise me.”

“No. I don’t want to upset you.”

Deidre looked over the flavors. She pointed out two finally. His hands shook as he scooped them into a bowl. She took it and handed him a five dollar bill.

“On me.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Just, ah, remember that. Make it quick when I’m up.”

Flustered, Deidre nodded and walked away with her ice cream. The woman she saw in downtown Atlanta had reacted to her the same way. Unwilling to let the weirdness ruin her day, Deidre dismissed the strange exchange, distracted by the smells coming from a display of homemade candles. She went down the line, smelling everything, until one candle in particular caught her attention.

“Smells good enough to eat!” she said to the lady sitting behind the table.

“Pecan pie.”

She bought it then moved on. She passed three face painting clowns before she gave in and decided to have her own done. By the time she reached the beach house, her face was Smurf blue and she was laboring under the weight of the treasures she’d found. She walked in and paused in the doorway, listening.

“Logan?”

No answer. He hadn’t texted her to say he was going out before heading to Atlanta this evening.

“This is getting old, Logan,” she said with a sigh. Deidre piled everything on the kitchen counters and pulled out the candle. She lit it and set it on the back porch. Sitting down with a book, she propped her feet up on the table and relaxed, calmed by the sounds of the ocean and the warm sun. Eventually, she dozed off.