The Five Deaths of Roxanne Love (29 page)

The feel of Santo naked beside her on the bed nearly sent her over the edge.
This
was what she’d heard of, what they portrayed in movies and books. She’d grasped the meaning of it without ever understanding how it
felt.
How breath couldn’t come fast enough and, at the same time, could be forgotten completely. How even her fingertips tingled when she felt the velvet warmth of his tongue against her flesh.

She took him in her mouth and he made that sound again, the one that her body responded to like a signal.

He hissed in a breath as she pulled him deeper, letting her teeth graze ever so gently and her tongue swirl over the rounded head and down the hard shaft. He pumped against her, a small, reflexive movement that spoke of his need and her power to satisfy it.

Then he was pulling her up, turning her beneath him, and burying himself in the cradle of her body.

His kisses were long and lush, filled with desire that had been pulled and sweetened by the pressures of time. Chemistry that had sparked and fired from the conflict of their dance.

He began to thrust in a deep, steady rhythm that stroked every nerve, every inch of her, bringing the fiery feelings to flame and searing one thought in her mind.
She would not let him go. The Beyond would have to make do with one less angel, because this one was hers.

She held the thought tight and let it join with her passion, let it build with her pleasure. It became a vow she swore she’d see through to the end.

Breath ragged, heartbeat thunderous, she glanced down the length of their bodies, his as brown as desert sands, hers as pale as moonlight. The contrast was as beautiful as the feelings swelling inside her.

He rocked his body inside hers and his fingers joined the sweet assault, pushing her ever closer to that point of no return. She cried out when she came and he answered with a shout of his own, her name on lips that found hers once more. And all the while, Santo held her tight, riding through it with her until, exhausted, they collapsed together in a silence that felt as perfect as the moment.

With one last kiss, Santo tucked her into the curve of his body and pulled the covers over them both. The warmth of him sank down to her bones, and Roxanne held tight to the feeling, promising herself that they would have this together for the rest of their lives. With a deep sigh, she relaxed against Santo and let her eyes close. They fell asleep in seconds.

S
anto woke up beside Roxanne, bare and warm and instantly alert. The clock on the nightstand read four fifteen, and the greedy shadows told him it was night, not afternoon.

Without moving, he searched the silence with his senses, finding nothing to explain the feeling that had awakened him. The only sound was Roxanne’s soft, even breathing next to him.

Quietly, he eased from the bed, pulled on his pants, and reached for his weapon, remembering it was gone. Feeling naked without it, he left the room. Nothing stepped from the dim corners or growled from the hall. Nothing fluttered at the windows or spoke in his head. But the feeling stayed, a song playing too softly to be heard. The quiet held its breath.

Darkness shouldn’t have bothered him. He was one with darkness. He had come from darkness. But this one held more than shadows.

The lights had been blazing in the living room and kitchen when he’d carried Roxanne to bed. Now a dank, pitch-black seeped from the edges of the room.

He drew even with the kitchen and paused. The front door was closed and locked but the sliding glass door that led out to a small balcony stood open. A cold wind gusted through it and banked against the walls. He smelled demons in it.

A big fat raven sat on the railing, wings tucked and eyes glassy. Locusts covered the balcony’s floor. They hopped and scuttled. The bird watched.

It was the same cat-sized raven that had attacked at Louisa’s but it didn’t look so cocky anymore. Its feathers had a thin, diseased look; its eyes had a milky sheen. Roxanne hadn’t banished that one to Abaddon, but she’d certainly managed to hurt it.

A deep growl came from behind him and slowly, he turned, braced for hot breath and sharp teeth. A hellhound stood in the middle of the room. A second paced beside it, tracking him with hungry eyes.

“Well, now,” a man said from the couch, where he’d been sitting so still that Santo hadn’t seen him. “If it isn’t the reaper.”

The voice had a lilting note that Santo recognized from the night of the robbery and shooting. It belonged
to the scavenger demon who’d worn the mask when he’d broken into Love’s to steal and murder.

The scavenger stood and moved to the center of the room. The two hellhounds turned their ugly heads to watch him. He gave them each a stroke as he passed by.

“Who are you?” Santo asked.

“Gary,” he said, holding out a hand to shake, a salesman’s smile on his pasty face.

Santo ignored the gesture.

Gary
had skin so white it glowed and eyes so pale they resembled the hellhounds’ eerie orbs. He wore a black turtleneck that couldn’t hide the angry rash blistering the underside of his chin and ringing his hairline. Black pants and heavy boots finished his outfit. His hands looked disconnected as they moved in the dark.

“You need a cape,” Santo said, just to irritate him. Not the smartest thing he’d ever done, but he figured he’d already sunk his own ship. If this scavenger demon knew he was here on earth, the end was written.

Outside, the raven laughed at his joke.

The demon smiled thinly. “We have a problem, you and I,” he said.

“We have several,” Santo agreed.

“I want the woman.”

Santo had known it was coming, but the words filled him with a sick rage that he couldn’t control.

“That is a problem. You can’t have her.”

Gary smiled and the two hounds growled and licked
their gruesome chops. A locust hopped across the sliding door track and landed near Santo’s bare feet. One of the hounds lunged to snap it up.

“Is the reaper in love?” Gary mocked. “Does the reaper think he can live happily ever after with his new toy?”

“She’s not a toy and you can’t have her,” Santo said coldly.

“Are we role-playing? Have you cast yourself as the hero coming to her rescue? That’s beautiful. Really. I might need a tissue.”

“You might need a bullet between your eyes.”

The scavenger only smiled. “What is your plan, reaper?”

Santo would be damned if he told this scavenger that he didn’t have one. “I came to reap her,” he said instead.

“And decided to have a quick fuck first?”

His eyes narrowed. “Not your business.”

“Oh, I guarantee you it is, reaper.” He paused. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Abaddon?”

“Fuck you.”

“Will you show me the same good time you did Roxy?” he asked with another smile.

“Fuck off.”

“We need to reach an understanding. You are a reaper.
I
am Abaddon’s ambassador.”

Santo laughed. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“Abaddon is interested in your human.”

Santo said nothing. His hand itched for his gun as the need to kill this scavenger swelled within him. The biggest of the hounds gave him a snarling warning, feeling Santo’s aggression in the air. The hound wasn’t tall enough to look him in the eye, but Santo was unarmed. It could chomp him down to bite-sized pieces and he’d have little defense.

“You think you can kill me, reaper?” the scavenger said in a thin voice. “Do you think a bullet would stop me?”

“I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

The scavenger opened his arms and grinned. “Hit me with your best shot.”

Santo didn’t want to admit he’d lost his gun, but the scavenger guessed.

“No weapon? What a shame. There goes your only opportunity.” He dropped his arms and his expression grew hard. “Now. When do you plan to reap your little human?”

“Again. Not your fucking business.”

“You do plan to carry out this reaping, though?”

Santo’s throat felt hot. His mouth so dry he could barely swallow.

“Because Abaddon would prefer to see it done soon. And right this time.”

“Why does Abaddon care whether Roxanne lives or dies?” Santo asked when he already knew the answer.

“It’s nice here. We like it. Abaddon’s bags are all packed and he’s ready to come join us for a long, long visit.”

“It’s not a resort, scavenger.”

“Then why are you on vacation, reaper? You are here for
one
reason. To reap Roxanne Love. But you’ve lost your way. I’m going to help you find it.”

“Abaddon can’t have her.”

“Wrong again, reaper. Abaddon can have whatever he fucking wants. Are you hearing me now? This can play two ways. The first, you get what you want. The second, you lose it all.”

Another locust hopped in from the balcony. The scavenger ground it into the carpet and wiped his boot. One of the hounds snuffled and licked at the squashed remains. The other kept its eyes on Santo.

“Abaddon wants your human gone. He assumes you have a plan to take her
and
keep her this time. It’s been poor work you’ve done up until this point.”

Santo watched him, saying nothing.

“I would like to report back that you have the situation under control. He’ll want details, however. Let’s not make him ask. What do you intend? Beheading?”

Santo’s stomach turned. In the beginning, he’d planned for fire. After Roxanne’s fourth death, he’d fully intended to take her body and turn them both to ash, releasing him from his corporeal form and preventing Roxanne from ever returning to hers. The thought
of doing that now made his skin grow cold and his heart stutter painfully.

“Fire?” the scavenger said hopefully.

Something in his face gave Santo away. The scavenger smiled.

“Fire is an excellent plan. No ambiguity there. No miracle surgery to put her back together again. Abaddon will approve of the method.”

“I don’t need Abaddon’s approval. It’s not going to happen. No one hurts Roxanne.”

“Wrong answer, reaper. Two choices, remember? Door number one, you take her. You reap her. You keep her. Easy peasy. But door number two . . . that one is not so great. You see, if you try to save your precious human, Abaddon will strip her from you. He will make her his.”

Santo gritted his teeth, refusing to comment. Refusing to give credence to anything the scavenger said.

“No one knows what you’ve done yet, reaper. No one in the Beyond has missed you yet, insignificant being that you are. But if you defy him, Abaddon will make sure you pay.”

Santo stared him down, stoic. Not showing a hint of the fear he felt.

“But it won’t be just you who is punished. He will make sure that your human dies and when her soul is free, he will snatch it up and take it unto himself. Do you understand what that means?”

He understood. He wished he didn’t, but he couldn’t conceal the horror he felt.

“You and Roxanne will still be together for all of eternity, both guests of a prison you’ll never escape. You can share in the torture. And make no mistake, it will be torture. Day in, day out.”

Santo could face Abaddon by himself. He’d known it waited for him as soon as he heard the ravens speaking in his head. But Roxanne? Sweet, beautiful Roxanne? Imprisoned in a place that made hell seem like paradise?

“So there you have it,” the scavenger said. “Reap her yourself or watch her be punished for your cowardice. There are no other choices.”

“She’s not meant to die again,” he said, latching onto the fact with both hands. Her fourth death had come and gone and he had no knowledge of when the fifth death might await her. Perhaps years from now when she was an old woman, asleep in her bed. If he took her out of turn, there’d be repercussions.

A fervent hope lodged in his chest that even Abaddon had to abide by the natural order of life and death. Such rules were policed in the Beyond. If he broke them, he’d be tipping his hand, showing the powers that had imprisoned him that he plotted an escape.

The scavenger seemed to know what Santo was thinking. He shook his head.

“Only a fool would implicate Abaddon.”

Or a desperate man.

“Reaping Roxanne before her time would draw attention that even Abaddon couldn’t avoid,” Santo said with more confidence than he felt.

A great wheel of logic spun in the back of his head, pointing out that the scavenger demon had killed others that night in the kitchen of Love’s. Santo didn’t understand how he’d gotten away with it, though.

“Killing her will draw attention to
you,
reaper,” the scavenger answered. “Only you. It’s a risk you’ll have to take.”

Santo’s fingers curled into his fists as he searched for another option. He glanced at the balcony. The locusts had accumulated on the glass, blotting out the fat moon and stars. Through the open door, he saw the raven watching with its humanlike eyes. Anything he did, it would see. If the raven saw it, so would Abaddon.

And then there were the hellhounds. They watched their master with bright, fixated eyes. Santo would never get to the scavenger before the hellhounds got to
him.