The Witching Hour (The Grim Reaper Saga (Urban Fantasy Romance)) (33 page)

“You weren’t the one who ran us over. I saw him,” her voice cracked.

His blood pumped harder with anxiety.

“I’m death, Eve. What humans call the grim reaper.” He held up his hand.

She was silent. Barely breathing. Hardly moving.

Her stillness unnerved him. If only she’d say something. Do something. He spoke into the quiet, not able to stop now that he’d started.

“My hand turns to bone when a soul is ready to be harvested, as it did on the day of your husband’s death. But I wasn’t just there for him. You were supposed to die too.”

The static of her energy tormented him.

He frowned. “I... I couldn’t do it. I tried.” His gaze dropped to the floor, unable to stand the vacant look in her eyes. “You were a fighter, and even though I hardly knew you then, I already loved you. You saw me, for the first time in my existence, somebody saw me.”

Through all of that she didn’t make a sound.

There was one last confession that had to be made. He took a deep breath. “I belong to the circle of Fae. I’m no vampire.”

She inhaled sharply then, her breathing began to come in hard and heavy pants.

“You killed Michael.” There was a hollowness to her voice he’d never heard before.

He reached for her hand out of habit.

“No!” She pulled away, hugging her arms to her chest. “Don’t touch me. Never again.”

Her words slid over his skin like burning oil. His heart shattered at the look of repulsion on her face. A bluish-green vein on the side of her neck pulsed with a rush of blood and adrenaline.

Her lips pulled back, exposing her gums as she sneered. “Why? Tell me why? What possible reason could you have for taking his life?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “It was my duty. It was his time.”

“Time. Time! You talk to me about time. What the hell would you know about that? We were trying to have a baby. Our lives were finally settled.” She touched her flat stomach.

Her torment snapped through him like the angry slash of The Morrigan’s whip.

“Eve, please try to understand.”

“No! I don’t want to ever hear you say my name again.” She shook, her fists clenching by her sides. “So was I a great lay, Cian?”

He winced and shook his head. “Please don’t do that. I wanted you. I... Eve, I know what you must think, but...”

She gave him a sarcastic, evil laugh. “Oh really. You do, huh? I’ll tell you what I heard. One...” she lifted her hand and ticked off a finger, “you killed my husband. Two. You tell me it was out of some freaking sense of duty. Which let me tell you is no consolation. And three, you’re a ga’...”

She snapped her mouth shut. A muscle in her jaw ticked.

He knew what she’d been about to say. That he was a fae. His grief turned to anger and desperation. “No. It is my duty. Just as it’s my duty now to protect you. There’s still a bounty on your head. The Morrigan will not rest until she sees you dead. Don’t you get it? I’m here to protect you. I love...”

“Don’t,” she cut him off with a swipe of her hand, “even say those disgusting words to me. As if I’d believe you anyway.”

Tears were shining in her eyes, her face scrunched and she was on the verge of tears. “You used me.”

“Not a chance! It was real.”

“I was such a fool. So what is it, Cian? Do the beautiful ones find you revolting? Do they look at you with pity, or disgust? Or maybe both? How long has it been since you’ve been laid that you’d be willing to screw the wife of a dead man?” Tears were streaming down her face in a rushing torrent that she didn’t even bother to disguise.

“I resent your accusations.” He clenched his jaw. She was swinging below the belt, in his anger he said the first words that came to mind. “What hurts worse, Eve? That I killed your husband. Or that you sullied your lily white hands on a Fae? That you let one touch you? That you actually enjoyed it?”

She swung her head to the side, her eyes widening with rage. “How dare you try to turn this on me? How dare you imply that?”

“You think I’m stupid enough not to know your disgust where the Fae are concerned. Imagine if all your friends were to find out we screwed and you loved it. You think any of them would ever look at you the same way again?”

“Damn you.”

He regretted his words, but they were out there and could never be forgotten. “It was never about the sex for me. And if I could bring your husband back I swear to the Goddess I would, if only to see you happy again.”

Her whole body jerked in response. “You’re so good. I almost believe you. But guess what...”

This was worse than he’d imagined. In some misguided way, he’d hoped she’d forgive him. That in their time together she’d actually seen the truth of who he was. He’d been wrong, and lost his soul in the process.

“...you’ve lied to me before.” She picked up her purse and turned toward the door.

She opened the door and with her back to him, whispered, “You can see yourself out.”

Then she walked out without so much as a backwards glance.

***

She didn’t care where she was headed, only that she had to get away. Having to look at the face she’d thought she’d fallen in love with for another second would have killed her. Did he have any idea, any clue? Did he even care how much it hurt?

She was rippling with energy, begging for anyone or anything to cross her path. Eve wanted to fight, to rip and claw and tear stuff apart. At the same time she wanted to scream and fall to the ground in a puddle of tears. But all she could do was run.

Before she knew where she was headed, she was already there. Club X. It never even crossed her mind to find her sisters.

She ran up the stairs, passing all the floors until she reached the mixed flock and entered, her gaze frantically searching for the one being able to bring her any kind of peace.

Under a dim blue light sat the hunched form of Lise. Her white gaze locked onto Eve’s.

She walked to the booth and stopped, trembling and unsure of herself. Only knowing death couldn’t be worse than the ache in her heart.

“Sit.” The word was like a rushing wind, powerful, and full of unimagined strength.

It never crossed Eve’s mind to refuse. She sat down, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her. Her leg keeping up a nervous rhythm.

“Why did you run away, Eve? Why did you leave him? Do you know how stupid that was? Especially now?”

She frowned. She’d expected sympathy, not judgmental scorn. She was the wounded party, not him. He’d lied to her, killed her spouse. Why would Lise even care?

“He killed Michael.”

Lise narrowed her eyes. “Doing his job!”

She snorted, not wanting to hear this. “No. No.”

“He could no more control his actions than you could help being a witch. That is who he is. It is his function. Which he has done over a millennia. Do you know the pain he’s carried? Do you even care?”

The exact words she’d thought earlier, now flung back in her face. “I’m the wounded party here, Lise.” She touched a finger to her chest directly over her heart. “He hurt me. He lied to me.”

“Me. Me. Me.” Lise sneered. “You’re so self-centered.”

She inhaled, deeply stung, never before had Lise turned her anger on her like this. It was inexcusable. Wrong. “I’ve done nothing...”

“Spare me, Eve. You are listening with your heart, not your brain. You want to be hurt. You want someone to blame. Make him your scapegoat, everyone else does. The reapers are so easy to be held responsible for all of life’s woes. They do the job no one else will. Day in and day out. They die from the suffering they must endure. You were saving his soul, bit by bit, hour by hour.”

She closed her eyes, not wanting to listen to Lise anymore, but unable to block out the deep truth of her words. It was a dull knife piercing her soul.

“I blame myself.” The chosen one pounded her fist onto the table, the guise of frailty snapping irrevocably for Eve. This was an immortal, not a frail woman, not a friend. She would not baby Eve, and this time she wouldn’t be able to run away.

“I did everything but tell him you were his chosen. He tried over and over to resist you. You want to know why...”

Eve glanced up, burning tears slid down the corners of her eyes.

“Because he didn’t want to lie to you. To make you feel as if he’d betrayed you.” She clenched her jaw, her eyes began to glow and her rage transferred to Eve, filling her with disgust and shame.

“He’s Fae.” She didn’t know what made her say it. She felt herself grasping at straws, desperate to get Lise on her side and understand her pain. She succeeded only in whipping the immortal into a frenzy of fury.

Lightning quick, Lise latched onto Eve’s hand squeezing it nearly to the point of crushing the bone. She hissed, tendrils of pain spiraling from the grip.

“And that should matter why? Has he treated you with contempt? Spite? He worshipped you. Yes, Eve, he’s a Fae. He participated in the Great War,” her hold on Eve’s hands didn’t relent, “and not that this should matter, but he had no part in the treachery. He was little more than the clean-up crew. I thought you were smarter than this.”

Lise threw her hand away in disgust. She brought the throbbing wrist to her chest and huddled over it protectively, for the first time truly knowing the power of Lise. Her heart hung in her throat. She tasted the fear on her tongue.

“Do you remember that night two years ago at the club? The rogue witch’s blast?”

She nodded.

“You didn’t throw that shield up in time. Think on that.”

What did she mean? What did that mean? Eve tried desperately to understand.

The Chosen One sat back, her look of fury now replaced by a mask of calm. “To be sure that no one is blameless. But coming here and looking for my sympathy, you’ll have none. If you cannot see the fault that lies in you, then you do not deserve him.”

Lise stood, her white gown rippled around her body like a living entity. She touched Eve’s cheek. Eve jerked in response, expecting Lise to slap the crap out of her this time.

“Make peace with this, Eve, and with him. Sooner rather than later.” She reached into the air, a white slip of paper appearing in her hand from nowhere. “You might be able to reach him here.”

Eve looked at the paper. A phone number was scrawled across it. The Chosen one nodded and walked away.

The pain, the fear, the anger, and hurt, it all washed over her, drowning her in emotions. The connection she felt with Cian was more than lust or friendship. It had been magical, mystical. Meant to be. She’d been helpless to him from the moment their gazes had locked. Her soul had always craved her spiritual other, and as much as it felt like a betrayal to admit it, Michael hadn’t been it.

She dropped her head to her hands, the paper crinkling in her tight grasp. A cloying wash of grief ripped through her. Not for Cian’s misdeeds, but her own. For her stupidity, and childish behavior. The words she’d flung at him. Pain ripped through her heart remembering the wounded expression in his eyes.

All she could think of in that moment was to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. To make him feel what it felt like.

She clenched her jaw, an emptiness consuming her soul.

What had Lise said?
Make your peace with him.

Hope, faint but there, shot through her.
It might not be too late.
Maybe he was still at her apartment.

She shoved away from the table, uncaring that she resembled a slaughtered raccoon with mascara dripping black down her face. Her only thought was of Cian. His arms. His quiet, gentle manner. So much he’d endured, and the strength it had taken to come clean. She couldn’t imagine.

 There was probably no chance in hell that he was still there. Likely he was long gone. But she had to try. She had to make an attempt. He couldn’t leave thinking she hated him.

Cian was broken. Shattered. He’d done his part and told the truth. He couldn’t say he honestly blamed Eve. Everything from the moment they’d met had been a lie, except his feelings for her. He’d never deceived her about that.

He’d hoped. Goddess he’d hoped Eve would have accepted him. Understood he was a man that loved her, who also happened to be fae. That the race did not define him as a person.

He swallowed hard. All that was water under the bridge now. There was nothing more for him to do here.

Still he followed her, all the way to Lise’s. He had to make sure she was safe. Regardless that she didn’t trust him anymore. He couldn’t allow harm to come to her. Not a creature, or reaper, tried to stop her. Assured she was in good hands, he swiped his hand, opening the portal between the here and there.  

Steeling himself he walked through, landing back in Alcatraz Island.

 Rusted, ramshackle abandoned prison cells a perfect analogy to how he felt on the inside. Empty. Soulless. He walked toward the tree, covering himself in stealth so that none of the chattering, filming tourists would catch sight of him.

He was never coming back. His time as reaper was over. His heart and soul were now irreparably bound to Eve’s. Despite that in the end she’d rejected him, he was lost. And he couldn’t fade knowing the Queen would stop at nothing to take her. So he went now to offer his life for hers. The death of an immortal would more than make right the balance to order and chaos, allowing Eve to live the life she was destined. That of marriage, kids, and many happy memories.