Reaper (6 page)

Scowling, Elle did not respond. Instead she pressed her lips together and tossed her head, pushing past Piotr roughly and hurrying up the remaining flights of stairs.

“Give her time,” Lily urged as Piotr scowled after her. “Warrior she might be, but Elle is young yet. Barely among the dead in truth. She longs for what she left behind and yearns for all that she can never have.”

“Time,” Piotr sighed as Elle reached the locked door at the top of the stairs and slid through it, beyond their view. Only a few flights down, they could now hear the raucous laughter and wild musical thrumming from above. The smell of gin and whiskey made his eyes water.

“
Da
, you are right. She is yet young, and time…time is the one thing the Never can always offer.”

T
he Top of the Mark, though lit by dim sconces, was a multi-level restaurant, elegantly attended and packed with spirits of all ages. A portion of the wooden floor near the glassed-in wall had been sectioned off for dancing. Nearby, an eclectic jazz quartet had set up behind the wrought iron balustrade and one portly spirit perched behind the black baby grand.

Relaxing his eyes, Piotr blinked and smiled. The piano existed both in the Never and the living world, and the pianist was tickling the ivories with bright concentration. In the living lands the keys pressed down in quick succession and the distant remnant of the sound provided an eerie, dissonant echo in the deadlands, hardly heard above the hum of the crowd. Piotr was impressed; the pianist was one of the rare few who could reach past the Never and brush the living lands.

Ghosts bellied up to the shiny wooden bar. They glanced at Lily as she and Piotr passed, but none commented. The dead didn't need to drink any more than they needed to eat, but so long as alcoholics breathed in the living lands, more than a few bottles of liquor always found their way into the Never.

What amused Piotr the most was the fact that almost every spirit there was dressed to the nines—many were clad in what had passed for fancy dress in the century in which they'd lived—and more than a few were sporting the slinky styles and black-tie fashions of the current decade.

One, at first glance, didn't appear to be wearing anything at all, but she moved and her long hair slid aside to reveal the skimpiest, sparkliest dress Piotr had ever seen a woman wear…or barely wear, as the case may be. The man beside her, in contrast, was clad as a fourteenth-century monk, in scarlet and black from neck to toe. They appeared to be debating Revelations as Piotr neared them, though they paused their discussion to eye Lily and Piotr until they passed.

Elle had gone ahead and was waiting for them beside a long cherry wood table with an amazing view of the city spread out below. The streets were lit up like golden wefts of a spider's web and the bay glittered like starlight with distant ships’ lights.

Five men and a woman lounged on the striped chairs arranged around the table, playing with a well-worn deck of cards; none looked up as Piotr and Lily maneuvered their way through the throng to join Elle.

It was the woman Piotr noticed at first—slim and dark-haired, dressed in a pale gown with a voluminous bell-shaped skirt neatly tucked under the table—she couldn't have been more than thirty or so when she'd died, but there was a vibrancy to her that many of the spirits in the room, even the loudest and most rambunctious, were lacking. As Piotr neared, she exposed her hand and the entire table groaned. The woman, smirking, leaned forward and collected the pile of chips in the middle, humming under her breath as she plucked the disks up and dropped them into a small tapestry handbag in her lap.

The closest of the men noticed them and stood, gesturing for the others to do so as well. Two of the men, one clad in regulation Navy whites and the other in modern camo, rose and abandoned their seats for Elle and Lily, moving to the bar and waving for the bartender's attention. The lady, still sitting, glanced the newcomers over with cool appraisal. Her unblinking gaze was unnerving, and when her lips pursed, Piotr felt a shiver run down his spine. He felt like a pickled specimen sliced thin and bared to the bone before her.

“Gentlemen, I think,” she said, rising and tapping the table with lacquered nails shaped into perfect pale pink ovals, “that this game is done for the evening. We should leave Mr. Morris to his business.”

“Ada,” protested the man who had first noticed them, reaching for her hand, “you have a seat on the Council as well. I wouldn't dream of—”

Sidestepping him, Ada waved a hand brusquely. “This is your project, Mr. Morris. Have done with it.” She dipped a slight curtsy and tilted her head in Piotr's direction. “I wish you good eve, sir, and good luck. May the Lord see you swiftly and safely on your way home. However, be wary. There are Walkers about.”

“We're young, not dumb,” Elle said, putting her hands on her hips. “We'll mind ours and you mind yours.”

Raising an eyebrow at Elle's daring, Ada nodded once and started away, pausing at Lily's side. “A word, if I may? It shall only take a moment.”

Frowning, Lily glanced at Elle, who shrugged. Piotr raised a questioning eyebrow, a silent signal to indicate
do what you want
. Lily nodded briefly in return and stepped aside with the older woman.

“Wonder what that's all about,” the man said, gesturing left and right to the others at the table. “Women, huh? Have a seat, son, have a seat. The rest of you? Do me a favor and scram for a bit. Thanks.”

Following Ada's lead, the others nodded in Piotr's direction as, one by one, they rose and drifted into the crowd. Piotr glanced over his shoulder; Lily's conversation was done. Ada sashayed away, being stopped every few feet by other ghosts who wished to speak with her. Lily returned to the table.

Uneasily, Piotr settled into Ada's abandoned seat.

“Watch it, flyboy,” Elle whispered, leaning in too close, her cheek pressed against his own, and her breath tickling his ear. “Ada's got her eye on you and that ain't exactly good, if you catch my drift.”

“
Da
,” Piotr murmured back, making note of the men in the crowd nearby who paused to watch Elle lean forward and look their fill while she was otherwise occupied. Elle was a big girl, but she wasn't the type to appreciate people getting fresh with her unless she initiated it. “I noticed.”

Now that they were alone with the man who'd gone to such lengths to meet him, Piotr found himself studying Mr. Morris. Like Ada, he couldn't have been more than thirty-five at the time of his death, sporting a full head of dark, combed back hair and a simple button-up chambray work shirt over a comfortably worn set of jeans. His features were square and regular, but it was the measured look in his eyes that prompted Piotr to sit up straighter, to smooth his own wrinkled white shirt and adjust the crease in his pants.

“Mr. Morris,” Lily began, but the man held up a hand.

“Frank, please, my dear sweet dolly,” he said, offering a work-roughened palm to Lily with a wink and a knowing grin. “I let all that ‘Mr. Morris’ crap pass for Ada because she just can't seem to get with the times, you dig it? Half the time she's still roaming around 1842.” He rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. “Not that I'm much better, mind.”

“Indeed,” Lily said stiffly and took his hand, allowing him to turn her knuckles up and press a quick, firm kiss on the back of her hand. She shot Piotr an annoyed glare over Frank's bowed head.

“Elle, my lovely, I am so sorry for earlier,” Frank continued, sweeping forward past Lily and squeezing both of Elle's hands in his own. “Comfortable, dear? Would you like a drink?”

Not waiting for her answer, he gestured behind him to a slim black-clad figure Piotr had missed before. The waiter left and returned, setting a squat glass half-filled with eye-watering amber liquid in front of Elle. “I shouldn't—” Elle began.

“Well, if it's too strong…” Frank said and turned to gesture again for the waiter to take the drink away. Before Piotr could protest, Elle scowled and snatched up the glass. “I didn't say that,” she snapped, catching Frank's eye, and tilted her head back, quaffing the drink in three swallows.

“Good hootch,” she burped, wiping the back of her hand against her lips. “But I've had better.” Still, despite her bravado, her eyes twinkled, and Piotr was stunned to realize that somehow Frank had managed to make a friend of Elle. He felt a sinking in his gut. He'd counted on Elle being her normal, prickly self to help him get through this unorthodox meeting, but she seemed right at home, tapping her foot to the frantic beat as the jazz band went crazy up on stage.

Frank turned to Piotr and offered his palm.

“I am here, you have me,” Piotr said, taking Frank's hand and meeting his eyes with a level gaze. “Now you promise to send no more Walkers into our lands.”

“Scout's honor, Red. If it's any consolation, it wasn't just Walkers we asked to poke around for you, they just got there first. Sorry that such a nosebleed found you before some reasonable ghost, but none of the Council was up to wandering all over hither and yon waiting for you to show up. We used to know how to put a pin on you, but the territory you Riders staked out for yourselves isn't exactly clear-cut these days.”

“We have no territory,” Lily said, crossing her arms across her chest. “We have abandoned our ways.” She glanced at Elle. “For the most part.”

“So little birdies tell me. I thought maybe I'd see what your bit was these days; send in a boy or two to scope the scene, see if you kids felt like making a little mazuma.” He rubbed his fingertips together to make sure they got the point. “A deal, like. A partnership. Since you're out of the saint business now.”

“You wish to pay us for some deed? After you sent a beast to hunt us down?” Straightening in her seat, Lily's hands clenched into fists. “Your ambassadors are sorely lacking if you wish to bring us into some nature of business arrangement with you.”

“Hey, hey now!” Frank said, holding up his hands in a genial blocking motion. “You don't have to get your feathers in a ruffle. You're all here and safe, right? What's bugging you?”

“A boy died,” Piotr explained coldly, thinking of Jamie. “All because you wish to make a deal?”

“We all die someday,” Frank said reasonably. “I'm not laughing at your loss, Red, but there are more important things going on in the Never than one lost little soul.” Sighing, he leaned forward and tapped the table twice, waiting for the drink to be set before him before he continued. He took a long swallow, wiped his mouth, and said, “Maybe my choice of messenger wasn't the best, yeah? I am sorry about that, but you don't always get the cream of the crop volunteering to do the dirty work.”

“The Walkers not only killed the boy, they tried to kill Piotr,” Lily continued, quiet and fierce. “Said that it was their orders. That he'd been wandering around the Never long enough.”

“That's just malarkey,” Frank snapped. “We don't want Red here dead. We need him!” Realizing what he'd said, Frank grimaced and sat back. “Well, I just threw that hand, huh?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Piotr, look kid, I've got a copy of that poster around here somewhere. We offered some prime A-grade salvage for the soul who could get you up to the Top of the Mark for a little chat. That was it. Granted, we didn't specify alive or dead, but it would be an awfully dumb ghost who thought that killing you would be the way to go.”

“Dead bodies disappear here,” Elle chuckled, waving for another drink, “but some of these souls aren't exactly DaVinci reborn, Frank. Those Walkers might not've thought it through.” When the tuxedo-clad waiter brought it, she sniffed and sipped appreciatively. “Or maybe you should've realized that revenge can run deeper than salvage. Especially when Walkers are concerned.”

Frank sat back, expression tired. “It's no excuse. It's an explanation. And I can't make what's past undone, but I can promise you—I can give you my utmost word—that if we ever put a bounty out again, I'll make sure to add a ‘no one gets hurt’ addendum.”

“As you will,” Piotr said, sitting back and rubbing his own eyes. The Never and the living lands were flickering wildly now. The stutter-flash of the brightly lit nightclub and dimly lit restaurant were giving him a headache.

“So what do you say? Want to ride the roller coaster with me, kids?” Frank spread his hands on the table. “Feel like making a little scratch on a job well done?”

“Depends on the job,” Elle said lazily. She twirled a finger through her fringe. “Depends on the pay.”

Frank smiled a chilling grin. “Let's have us a little chat about the Lightbringer.”

Narrowing his eyes at the older man, Piotr leaned back in his chair. “What about her?”

“It's come to our attention that you and the Lightbringer have an…understanding.” Keeping his free hand flat on the tabletop where Piotr and the others could see it, Frank lifted his drink and took a deep swallow. “Is this so?”

Stiffening, Piotr turned his face away. Frank was sharp, too sharp, and Piotr didn't want the Council member to spot the mingled anger and dismay he felt every time Wendy's name was mentioned. “I really don't think my friendship with the Lightbringer is any of your business.”

Leaning over until he was sure Piotr could see him, Frank shook his head. “Ah, son, I get you, but you see it really is my business. My business and her business,” he gestured to Lily, “her business,” he pointed to Elle, “and their business.” Sitting back, he waved a hand at the press of people partying on the level below. “It's all of our business, son.”

Piotr pushed back from the table. “I'm leaving.”

“Not so fast, not so fast. Hear me out.” Frank waved a conciliatory hand. “Let me explain, and if you're still feeling partial to taking a hike, I won't try to stop you.”

“You couldn't,” Elle retorted, suddenly stone cold sober, “since me an’ Lily got his back.”