Death's Redemption (The Eternal Lovers Series) (4 page)

“Lise”—he shook his head—“I have to take her soul. If I do not, my hand will remain this way indefinitely.” The dry bone clacked together as he opened and closed his fist.

“Then it shall. You are death, Frenzy.”

Trying to breathe around the suffocating anger choking him, he willed himself to calm. Raging at Lise would only get him killed, in a likely gory and horrific manner at that.

“Point being that if it remains bone I will have—”

“A minor inconvenience. Wear a glove, not that it will matter around her anyway. She will die.”

Again with the riddles. Trying to rub the sudden tension headache creeping up the back of his neck, he sighed. “So she
is
going to die?”

“Of course, death.” Her eyes bugged and she was staring at him as if he was beyond stupid.

Smothering the growl that desperately wanted out, he settled for taking a deep breath instead. “When she dies I must take her soul. That is the way of things in my world, Lise.”

She shook her head. “Not this time. I will make it so that no matter how often you touch her, she will never suffer death’s caress. She will be immune to your charms.”

He frowned. Was that even possible? But with Lise he supposed anything was possible. There was so much about her that was a complete mystery. “What am I supposed to do with this human?”

“Guard her, protect her.”

“No.” There wasn’t even a point in thinking it over. There was no way he’d be saddled with guarding a human being.

“And honestly, stop thinking of her as human. She will no longer be once I wake her up. But you’ll have to teach her how to survive what she will soon become, and I doubt she’s going to enjoy the transition much. She’ll need your support.”

Powerful as she was, Frenzy was certain it was her mind that’d cracked centuries ago and not his. “I don’t think you heard me; I said no.”

Taking a step closer, she peered up at him with those unsettling white eyes. The Morrigan could cast glamour like none he’d ever known before, but she had the type of magic that made whoever her prey was unable to look away. To become ensnared and entranced in her predatory gaze, even while she ripped you limb from limb.

Lise had it too, but this was so much more.

Unease moved through his body and again his heart fluxed, banging hard against the cage in his chest. Rubbing at it, unable to tear his gaze from hers, he knew he’d never really had a choice in the matter.

She might be approaching him as a matronly figure of sorts, but the power in her seemingly frail body was vast and far superior to his own. She’d never had any intention of making this a democratic decision.

“Are you done sassing me, reaper?”

The sweetness of her voice did not hide the edge of steel buried inside the words. This was an ancient, a being of such terrifying power that she would get what she wanted one way or another.

Nostrils flaring, knowing he was bested, he clipped his head.

“Good. You must take her to George.”

His lip curled up. “George is an outcast.”

She shrugged. “I’ve run through all scenarios, and it’s really the only way. If I send her to Lootah, king of the shifter clans, his bite will reveal the truth of her, causing her to be in more danger than she is even now.”

Truth of her?

What exactly was this human? Was that why Lise was taking such an interest? Because she was more than another mere mortal? Turning, he glanced back down at the body. She was still frozen, limbs distorted, face a repulsive mass of bruises and slits, and he couldn’t fathom the importance of her.

“Vampires have obviously figured her out. They tasted her blood. They already know; in fact, you’ll barely have a minute to escape before they return in bigger numbers.”

“I put down all but one of them. And that one should still be stunned for a while yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Frenzy, how long has it been since you’ve been out in the world and not suckling at the queen’s teat?”

He clamped his lips shut.

“The world has progressed, child. What you think you know about
others
, humans, all of it…it’s all so very different now. The vampire was merely stunned, apart from the one you shared death’s kiss with, of course. That one is definitely d-e-a-d.” She laughed and then shrugged, as if not in the least bit bothered by the death of a vampire. “And the one who shattered too”—she flicked her wrist—“you really should have destroyed the leader. Getting a little sloppy in your old age, death.”

Lise ran Club X, a club that catered to all
others
. Be you witch, vampire, shifter, demon…She was Switzerland in a city overrun by monsters; she did not judge and she did not take sides.

Usually.

But she seemed to be doing so now.

“What’s in this for you?” His voice dipped, because trying to make sense of this thing was going to give him a massive headache.

“Balance. Order. Same as you, reaper. The powers she possesses, they must not be manipulated by any other. To prevent another Great War, you must protect this woman.”

“By taking her to George?!” He couldn’t hide the disbelief from his voice; a low chuckle spilled from him. “Is the bastard still hiding out in the same cave I found him in all those centuries ago?”

She nodded. “He is.”

Snorting, he shook his head. Might be good to visit George. It’d been a millennium at least. But honestly, wasn’t death better for the woman than what Lise was suggesting? It had to be.

“No, it’s not,” she said, obviously reading his thoughts. “Her role in history is vital. In fact, my sisters and I have considered grooming her for future duties, but we haven’t had enough time to study her lineage. In order for us to have that time, she must be protected. There is none more powerful than death to perform that duty.”

There was definitely more to the story than what Lise was sharing. He knew that. He also knew she wasn’t likely to give him more than she had.

“Who is she?”

She shrugged. “Just a woman.”

That was a lie of epic proportions and he knew it; if she’d really been just a woman Lise would have let him reap her soul a long time ago.

“And why must I be the one to see to her? Isn’t there another reaper available? Tariq, or Aeidin? Anybody?”

“Feral” was the word that immediately came to mind when her lips split into a wide grin and, licking her front teeth, she shook her head. “None have the history you do.”

“Falling in love with a mortal? A mistake I will never make again.”

“Oh no, my dear death.” She slid her hand up his arm. “No, I mean the wake of destruction you left behind after her death. To protect this mortal, you’ll have to channel that baser side of yourself.”

Scrubbing his jaw, knowing how pointless it was to argue, but needing to try anyway, he said, “And it nearly killed me. I went mad, absolutely insane for a quarter century. The Morrigan had me chained and locked up for the safety of those around me. I cannot become that monster again.”

Clamping her hand over the spot of his heart, she shook her head. “That was because you had no focus. No point of reference to keep you grounded. Mila is that. Make her your point and you’ll own the beast.”

“Why?” He grabbed her hand. “Why is she worth protecting? What could she possibly know or have that makes every monster want her? What is so dangerous about that woman?”

“There are some mysteries in life that must be discovered with time. Only then can you truly make sense of them.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Meaning”—she held her hand out as a bright bolt of power crackled from her palm into Mila’s prostate body—“you’ll find out.”

The bolt of power picked the woman up off the ground and she floated toward Frenzy on a glowing, crackling bed of lightening. Her amber eyes stared sightlessly at him, eyes so similar to Adrianna’s.

“Take her in hand, Frenzy.” Lise talked to him like a mother reprimanding a recalcitrant child.

“I’ve got her,” he snarled, yanking the body into his chest. “So when you wake her up, how exactly do you plan to prevent the transformation from occurring? If she’s got a nanosecond, this all seems rather pointless.”

Face deadpan, she couldn’t have said more clearly how much of a fool she thought him than if she’d spoken the words aloud. “Obviously she will remain in stasis until the moment she is given to George. Then and only then will she reanimate.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her how she’d know to unlock the woman from her current status of human popsicle, but he found he didn’t really care one way or the other. Lise had yet to convince him that allowing a lone woman to die was really as dire as she was making it out to seem. Problem was, he barely knew the Ancient One; to have someone come and tell him that grave danger would fall upon the world if he let one pathetic human perish seemed a tad melodramatic.

“The moment I release time, the vampires will attack. They’re right outside the door. They want their prize. You cannot let them have it. Do you hear me? No matter what.” She leaned up on tiptoe, standing nose to nose with him now. “Ever. Should you fail, I’ll kill you.”

“As if that frightens me.” He scoffed.

“Oh, death”—she laughed, patting his cheek before taking a step back—“you foolish, foolish man. Find your soul again, reaper; it is your only chance.”

The rushing howl of wind pierced his skull as the bubble of time she’d trapped them in evaporated. In the muddle, he stood locked in place and slightly disoriented. It took him a second to realize what he’d initially assumed to be wind was actually the cry of vampires converging.

“Shit!” he snarled and, turning his back on the group of six leaping in the air, he swiped his hand opening the portal between the here and there. With barely a second to spare, he stepped through with his
precious
cargo and sealed it shut.

Breathing hard, he stared at the woman, who still hadn’t awakened. Lise had obviously kept her word.

He needed to talk with the queen, find out what was really going on. He’d known The Morrigan his entire life; that she would willingly hand over the reins of one of her most powerful elite to some stranger smacked of the ridiculous.

He felt the press of Mila’s amber eyes. Though he knew she was not conscious, she did not see him, he felt it all the same. A mocking, scorn-filled gaze that seemed to scream at him, accuse him that he would fail as he’d always failed.

Turning Mila’s head to the side, he cursed his pathetic bleeding heart and headed toward George’s cave. The queen would just have to wait.

S
tanding at the massive gray stone entrance that led deep into the belly of the earth, Frenzy adjusted the woman in his arms.

“Bloody hell,” he bit out, taking the first step into the black bowels. The air reeked of the rotten stench of half-eaten carcasses. Curling his nose, he followed the jagged stairs that’d been cut out of rock farther and farther down into the bottomless abyss George called home.

Mila was getting heavy. He’d been carting her around the past thirty minutes, trying to dredge up the nearly forgotten memory of George’s hidden lair. Frenzy had stumbled upon George in the early fifteenth century.

The things he’d seen that man do, the atrocities and sins he’d committed, would have been enough to make Jack the Ripper lose his lunch. As the years progressed, George had tamed.

Well, as tame as a lone wolf was capable of being, anyway.

A drop of rainwater leaking from between a crack in the stone wall plopped onto his nose. Grunting, Frenzy wiped his nose against Mila’s blood-caked neck.

“You’d better be worth this,” he muttered.

After countless stairs he finally saw a break in the utter inky darkness—a faint flickering of reddish-gold candlelight.

“George,” he called out loud enough to make the sound of his voice echo. George was hard of hearing, or at least he had been last time Frenzy had seen him. A pack of feral dogs had caught wind of his noxious odor and pounced, ripping off both ears before George had been able to fend them off.

Shifters could heal. Normally. But after George had been exiled from the pack, his ability to heal himself had dwindled down to almost nil. Most of the magic a shifter boasted came from the combined efforts of the pack. A lone wolf was truly at the mercy of the world.

Goddess, it was almost a crime what Lise was asking him to do to Mila. As much as he despised mortals, turning something into a hybrid was plain cruel. There were so few cases of hybrids he could recall, and most of them had died grisly deaths because it was never a sure thing what a hybrid would become. It would gain either the best traits of both creatures or the worst, and you could never know from the onset. The few he’d known of had died due to the madness that’d infiltrated their brains from the moment they’d woken.

Studying a hybrid was difficult because in order to create one the circumstances had to be just right. Once you were turned vampire, or shifter, or even zombie, that was all you could ever be. A hybrid was created right at the moment of death. When life hung precariously between the two, the infinitesimal period was the only time to have it happen. Which meant you had to have two willing and opposite monsters turn the kill at the exact same moment.

George’s bite would come several minutes after the vampires; granted, Lise had placed the woman in stasis, so perhaps there was still a chance that she was fresh enough to become the hybrid Lise required her to be.

If he had to guess why Lise wished it to be George who bit her, his guess was that unlike vampires, shifters still retained their souls. Meaning, while the “raw meat” obsession was strong in them, so was their desire to retain their humanity. They weren’t mindless killers, unless, of course, in life they’d been soulless monsters to begin with.

A shuffling drag came at Frenzy from the left. Turning, he inclined his head at his old friend.

George stopped ten paces in front of him. The grizzled wolf looked nearly the same as he had last time Frenzy had been around him.

Most of his parts were where they should be. It looked like something had maybe taken a nibble off the tip of his hawkish nose, and his skin was a slightly grayish pallor, but that was to be expected when the shifter refused to go aboveground. Extremely pale blue eyes sat in a face that never failed to remind Frenzy of the priest George had once been. There was an open and honest look about the man that made a person instantly want to trust him. Frenzy had no way of knowing just how far the desiccation of George had advanced since last he’d seen him because the priest had covered his body in a monk’s brown robe.

Shoving a lock of dull gray hair out of his eyes, George lifted a brow.

“Should I thank you for the offering?” His English lilt was still very much evident, as was the sibilance of his
s
. As long as Frenzy had known him George had always had a slight lisp.

The cave smelled strongly of elderberry and pine, thanks to the pine needles and berries scattered throughout the cave floor. Clearly the wolf was trying to mask the sickly sweet odor of his body from scavenging predators. Without a pack to help protect him, George was in a very vulnerable position.

“You should know, death, I don’t eat humans anymore. I find them very gamey, if it’s all the same to you. Though I thank you for your kindness.”

Chuckling, Frenzy nodded. George had been a vegetarian when he’d first met him as a human all those years ago and had never eaten a human so far as he knew. Well, he was vegetarian by shifter standards—which basically meant he ate any meat that wasn’t of the Homo sapiens variety. “I’ll remember that.” Searching the room for a bench or a chair, he shrugged Mila up in his arms. “I need to set her down.”

Lifting an arm, George motioned farther back into the cave where the candlelight was the brightest.

“Follow me.” And turning slowly on his heel, he began the painful-looking shuffle-step back.

Frenzy wasn’t certain how many years, lifetimes, George had spent in this cave. From the moment he was ostracized George had hidden himself within the bowels of the earth, carving out a labyrinth of tunnels. It would be too easy to get lost down here, which was likely how the priest trapped his prey for later consumption.

Eventually they made it to what was clearly the wolf’s true sanctuary. Where the actual entrance of the cave was only decorated with pine and berries, the back room felt homey. A large, handwoven rug lined the space. An ancient pockmarked desk sat in the corner with an enormous and melted beeswax candle dripping yellow wax off the edge onto the stone below.

A lumpy feather-stuffed mattress, room for one only, sat tucked within a narrow alcove, and the rest of the cavernous room was lined with rows and rows of books.

“I see you’ve not escaped the Middle Ages. But where did the collection of books come from?”

George’s lips pulled up into what Frenzy could only assume was a facsimile of a smile—something the priest clearly hadn’t done in ages, because it resembled more a canine’s snarl than anything.

“I’ve collected over the years. Lay her on the bed.” Sitting on the low stool, George pointed to his narrow bunk. “Who is that?”

Setting the still immobile Mila onto the cot, Frenzy shrugged. “I’ve no clue. Lise asked me to bring her to you.”

Dusting off his hands, he turned to find George’s brows creeping along his shaggy hairline.

“You look…” Frenzy pressed his lips tight. “Well.”

Laughing, the sound reminding him of crumpling up a palm full of dried leaves, George shook his head. “‘Well’ is not the word I’d use. I survive, that is all.”

Browsing the rows of books, tracing the gold lettering along the spines, Frenzy shrugged. “I expected to find you nothing but a skeleton, how have you survived intact for so long?” He turned to stare at the man he’d once called friend.

“I keep to myself and do not engage in fights I know I cannot win.”

“How do you eat? What do you eat?”

He chuckled and again, it sounded all wrong, made Frenzy grimace in response. “Without a pack my flesh is absurdly fragile, as you well know.” He pointed at the holes in his head where his ears once were. “Once I lose it I can no longer regenerate it. I have no desire to walk around looking like one of you.”

Frenzy snorted and waved the bones of his hand.

“I wait until prey enters the cave, loses itself inside, and slowly starves to death. Then I eat.” Pale blue eyes flicked toward her body. “Why has Lise sent you to me?”

Doing a double shoulder shrug, Frenzy sighed. “I assume to bite her.”

Tapping his fingers upon the desk, George didn’t take his eyes off Mila. “I haven’t seen a woman in centuries.” His voice was thoughtful and low. Then his brows bunched. “Is she dead? She does not breathe.”

Grabbing a book off the shelf titled
The Demise of Morality
, Frenzy flipped through what was clearly light reading material for the monk, the pages worn, as if read frequently through the ages. “She is not dead. She should be, but she is not. Lise placed her in stasis.”

Eyes flickering down to the book in Frenzy’s hand, George narrowed them thoughtfully. “Why?”

Losing interest quickly, Frenzy slapped it shut and shelved it. “No clue other than I am to be this human’s guardian. From what, I haven’t an idea.”

Gingerly getting to his feet, George grabbed a small candle and a holder, lit it, and then ambled toward Mila, dragging the glow of his flame along her body, studying her intensely.

“She is covered in wounds. What are these, vampire bites?”

Nodding, Frenzy joined him. “Yes.”

Placing a thumb against his lips, George shook his head. “Lise wants me to infect her? She’s already infected.”

Squeezing his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose, Frenzy sighed. “Exactly. I questioned the Ancient One over and over, but she’s very insistent you infect her too.”

“But there must be more to the story, no?” George asked thoughtfully. “Truth is I do not know whether my infection can take with her so envenomed. And if it does, what she could be. The double dose will turn her hybrid. It is possible she will not survive this. Does the Ancient One truly want her to die such a ghastly and horrid death?”

Flicking his fingers together, Frenzy shrugged again. “Which is why I’m here. If she comes back as some psychotic animal, we’ll simply drive a stake through her heart and dismember her. That is the only way to incapacitate one of you, correct?”

“Not the stake, no.” George shook his head. “But the dismemberment is correct, along with ripping out the heart and burning it in fire. However, you know how I feel about killing. I will not do it.”

Gently clapping a hand onto George’s shoulder, Frenzy nodded. “And that, my friend, is why you’ve survived this long. But do not worry, if it comes down to killing, I’ll be the one.”

Lips pressed thin, George knelt and drew Mila’s hand into his own. “She is very cold. She feels dead already.”

Swallowing hard, he licked his lips, and Frenzy didn’t want to know whether the priest suddenly found himself hungry.

“She is not for food,” Frenzy growled low.

“Of course, of course not. ’Tis only I haven’t eaten in weeks and…” He swallowed again.

“Hell, George.” Frenzy snatched her hand out of the priest’s. “Do not eat her. Can I trust you to bite only?”

Rubbing his eyes, taking two deep breaths, George nodded. “Perhaps if you find me some meat aboveground first?”

Much as Frenzy never wanted to be saddled with the woman’s care, she was his responsibility now and he’d be damned if any harm came to her on his watch.

“If you eat her, I will take you topside and throw you to the wolves. Do you understand me?”

Licking his lips, wringing his hands, George nodded. “Yes, but hurry.”

“Damn you, priest.” With a growl, Frenzy ripped open a fabric of time between the here and there. In less than a second he was aboveground, breathing in the nippy, fog-soaked air.

Buttery moonlight bathed the meadow. Trees towered to the sky, and in those trees the soft exhalations of sleeping squirrels stirred like a gentle breeze.

This was ridiculous, hunting for rodent in the dead of night while a woman he barely knew but was forced to protect was currently being guarded by a shifter that hadn’t eaten in weeks…The gods were laughing.

Swiping a hand through the air, he landed on the nearest, fattest branch. He wasn’t a hunter, had no desire to try for stealth. Opening his hand, he blew on it. Undulations of frost rolled off the bones like mist, moving from branch to branch with one purpose.

To kill.

The dull thud of carcasses dropping to the forest floor beat a constant rhythm. He’d raze the entire forest if he really wanted to. But a couple dozen squirrels was good enough.

Snapping the frost back to him, he gathered the rigored animals by their scruffy tails and quickly returned to his exiled acquaintance.

George was still kneeling over Mila, staring at her with a hard-edged intensity Frenzy had seen many times in his life. The look of a wild predator sizing up its prey.

“Step. Away,” Frenzy growled.

A shudder rippled down the priests’ spine. “
Ssso
hungry.” The voice spilling from him in no way reminded Frenzy of the man he’d once known.

Dropping the rodents, Frenzy rushed George, hooking his fingers into his shoulder blades and yanking him away from her.

“There is food on the floor. Rip into it, do whatever you need to do, then get your head on straight, because we have a job to do, wolf. And if you can’t do that I’ll become the killer I’m so very good at being.”

The echoing vibrations of heavy breathing was the only thing he heard. George could have fought him back; though a lone wolf was fragile in many ways, they were still killers, incredibly hard to restrain if they wanted to eat. Frenzy knew the only way he could stop George if the priest was determined to get at her was to dismember him. Which would well and truly destroy him.

A fate he did not actually want for his friend.

“Let me go.” Sounding more like himself, Frenzy decided to give the monk a final chance and slowly peeled his hands off from the shifter’s back.

Crossing his arms, he made George walk around him. Frenzy didn’t turn, giving the wolf some modicum of respect, pretending not to hear the slurping and crunching, ripping and gnawing.

The monk had obviously gone without a food source for too long.

Finally the rabid sounds of eating died down. A second later George cleared his throat.

Lifting a brow, Frenzy turned. The priest had cleaned up well. There wasn’t a trace of blood or gore; there wasn’t even a trace of fur.