Reaper Undone

Blackwood was a tall guy, not bulky, but then it was always hard to tell a guy’s frame in a tailored suit. Clean-shaven, probably mid-forties, he was a handsome man.

“How is Cora?” he asked.

How to answer that one. “She’s…busy. And you? Have you found out anything more about the tulpas?”

“The ones that are hunting you—the part demon, part Loup but no longer witch creature?” He plucked at an imaginary piece of lint on his trousers. “Not yet. But I’m looking into it. Finding enemies you may not even know you had.” He studied me from beneath straight dark brows. “You really aren’t a witch, are you?”

“I never said I was.”

“Your tulpa has all your power.”

“She took on my witch nature, yes.”

“And yet someone wishes to kill you…”

There was only one person who I knew for sure wanted me dead, and she wouldn’t touch me while I was linked to her by Eve’s curse. “I don’t have any enemies.”

“Maybe not. Maybe you’re just a pawn in a bigger game. Maybe there’s a player on the board that you haven’t even considered.”

A shiver ran up my spine. “And you’ll find him or her?”

“Two separate cases,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m working on it.” He glanced out the window. “And now we’re here. You’re welcome.”

Mal got out first, then reached in to help me out. “Strange guy,” he said. “He gives me the creeps. Are you sure he can help us?”

“Cora seems to think so, and I trust her judg…” I got my first proper look at the mansion. Mother of chocolate-covered marshmallows. This place was epic. “Wow.”

“Coven power,” Mal said dryly. “They aren’t afraid to flaunt their wealth.”

I had no clue whether it was Edwardian, Victorian, or gothic, all I knew was that it was huge, gray stone with impressive moldings and gargoyles that jutted out from beneath the eaves. This was the kind of mansion that you could get lost in. I bet it had like a hundred bathrooms.

The limo slinked off to park up with all the other pretty limos.

“Come on,” Mal said. “Let’s find Vi.”

We headed up the grand staircase and into the amber lights spilling out of the entrance.

Chapter Thirty-Two

I had to hand it to them, the witches knew how to party pompous-style. Towers of champagne glasses, mouth-watering hors d’oeuvres spread out on silver trays, and everyone dressed in designer wear. Okay, so I had no idea if that last part was true, but the clothes looked expensive.

The ceiling was the night sky filled with shooting stars that whizzed past swirling nebulas. Neat illusion.

Mal and I wove through the crowd, drawing attention with our less than ball-like attire, or maybe it was the fact our clothes were ripped and our faces were spattered with inky mouth blood.

Whatever.

In the end, it was Vi who found us, drawn by the stage whispers and the polite commotion at our presence.

“Excuse me, sorry.” She grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me across the room, polite smile fixed on her face the whole time. She didn’t stop until we were in a side room that looked like a study; only then did she drop the smile and throw up her hands in a what-the-hell gesture.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” she demanded.

Irrelevant questions we didn’t have time for. “Do you have the spell to summon Uriel ready.”

She balked. “I—yes, I do, but—”

“We need to do it now, Vi. Azazel is in danger. He might be dying.” I filled her in on what had happened. “Uriel could be the key to figuring out who the Dread really are, and if they’re who they say they are. He could be the key to figuring out how to stop them for good.”

Vi looked torn. “From what you said, summoning Uriel tonight won’t help Azazel; only this Keon daemon can do that once he has the information you need to disrupt the runes. I don’t see how waiting until tomorrow will hurt?”

Was she serious? “Vi, Jasper just killed one of their generals; there’s every chance they’ll move up the timeline on their plan now. Waiting isn’t an option. If you have what you need to do the spell, then please, help us.”

Vi sighed. “Fine. Meet me out back in ten minutes. I’ll need to make my excuses and change out of this wonderful dress.”

I noticed her outfit for the first time, deep shimmering blue that hugged her frame like a second skin. She looked hot.

Guilt pricked at my senses. “I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

She gave me a sheepish smile. “I can hardly complain. I owe you. Big time.”

I opened my mouth to argue and then snapped it shut. She did owe me, after all, and I needed to collect.

“Thank you.”

Vi met us at the back of the mansion and then led us down the impressive garden, following a winding path until we reached a large building that looked like a summer house on steroids.

“This is my studio,” she said.

“Studio?”

“I like to make things.” She unlocked the door and ushered us inside.

It smelled like the art room at school, and a memory surfaced, sharp and distinct, of a sunflower painted blue. My first creation on an actual easel aged five. I blinked, and the image faded. The lights came on, and the room was revealed. A long wooden table with trays of brushes and pots containing goodness knows what. An easel stood by the wall and sculptures made of paper and wire dangled from the ceiling.

“You’re an artist.”

Vi shrugged. “It’s just a hobby. Come on.” She cut across the room to a door on the far side and unlocked it with a key hanging on a peg on the wall. “I set up my storage room. It’s big enough, and I recently cleared it out so…” She pushed open the door, and we followed her in. “Here it is,” she said.

The room was the same size as my quarters at the Dominus house. Boxes had been pushed up against the wall to make a space in the center of the room, and an intricate symbol was drawn on the ground in white paint and surrounded by a circle drawn in red paint. Four bowls sat on the circle, spaced out evenly. Each contained some kind of herb.

“The herbs took a little time to source,” she said. “And the symbol wasn’t easy to perfect. I had to practice for hours. It must be drawn in a continuous line, no breaking off. It took several attempts to get right.”

“Thank you, Vi, seriously, thank you.”

She smiled, looking embarrassed. “Don’t thank me yet. It might not work. I might have messed up somewhere.” She walked over to one of the boxes in the corner of the room and returned with a sheet of paper and a box of matches. “If one of you lights the herbs, I can start reading the incantation. There’s a space where I need to utter his name. Uriel, right?”

I nodded.

“And then what happens?” Mal asked.

“Then, Uriel should appear.”

It sounded simple enough. I took the matches from her and carefully lit up the herbs in each bowl. A sweet, cloying smell began to fill the room. I joined Mal and Vi as she began to chant. The words were convoluted but had a melodic cadence to them. They seemed to swell, overtaking the room and mingling with the smoke from the herbs.

Vi said Uriel’s name and continued to chant; it went on and on until she said his name again, repeating the chant.

“Nothing’s happening,” Mal said.

I looked at Vi, and her gaze flicked to mine. She shook her head slightly, mouth still moving in the chant.

This had to work. “Keep going. Please.”

“Uriel, please, I need you.” My words were a desperate whisper. “Please.”

He had to be okay. I needed him to be okay, and not just because of the Dread, but because he was my friend. He was good, kind, and sweet, and he needed to be okay. “Uriel, please.”

“Something’s happening!” Mal pointed at the symbol.

It was starting to glow.

Vi’s voice gained strength, the words more of a command and less of an entreaty. My pulse sped up as the smoke from the bowls turned silver, shimmering as it twined up into the air.

And then the space inside the circle began to shimmer. A figure materialized behind the wavering air.

“Uriel…” I took a step forward, but Mal grabbed my arm.

“Wait.”

Eerie wails and mournful sobs filled the room, slowly turning up in volume, and then the air around the circles began to move like a cyclone. Uriel’s form flickered like an image with bad reception, and my heart shot into my mouth. No.

“Uriel, I need you.”

My scalp prickled, and gooseflesh peppered my skin. The symbol glowed brighter and brighter, the cyclone sped up, and the figure solidified. Vi was practically shouting the chant now, screaming the words above the cacophony of sound that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

And then the world exploded in white, leaving me momentarily blind.

“Fuck!” Mal clutched my arm. “Are you okay?”

I blinked, waiting for the dark spots to vanish and my vision to clear.

“I did it,” Vi said softly. “I fucking did it.”

I raised my head to stare at the figure in the circle. Naked from the waist up, Uriel was on his knees, arms loose at his sides, chin tucked in, chest heaving as if he’d just finished a sprint.

“Uriel?” I bridged the distance between us, stopping at the circle.

“It’s okay,” Vi said. “You can go in now.”

I stepped inside and crouched beside my friend. “Uriel?” I touched his shoulder lightly. “Can you hear me?”

He exhaled and slowly raised his head to look at me. “No…How? I tried to keep you away. I tried, and now they know. They know…I’m sorry, Fee.” He touched my cheek, grazing my skin with his fingertips. “I’m so sorry. I won’t get to see you again.”