Slipping the Past (2 page)

The clerk pushed back at first, a normal reaction. “Come on.” Not a delay she needed. “Let me in.” Jocelyn shoved harder, forcing her energy into her target. It took her seconds to realize her mistake. There was a jolt, and a chill slithered up her spine. She bit her lip and pulled back. Bad idea.

A powerful being approached. Huddled down by the trash, she should be unobserved, but he’d zero in if she jumped. The reaper was too close to her, but also to her brother, and if he caught him robbing the store, he’d be done.
Judge. Jury. Executioner
.

She couldn’t tell how far away the reaper might be. She certainly wouldn’t see him if he approached her hiding spot. There weren’t any footsteps she could hear, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t standing right there, waiting for her to slip up. It didn’t matter. She’d no choice. There was one way to get Nate out—and it meant helping him rob the store.

One deep breath and she balled her fists. She’d have to move fast. Energy bloomed around her and her spirit lifted from her body. She shot through the solid wall of the convenience store and rushed inside the clerk.

Using the clerk’s eyes, she studied her brother as he scrolled through digital postcards and waited for the customer at the counter to leave. She opened her mouth to warn him, but the customer before her spoke.

“I had it right here.”

She surveyed the counter and the man in front of here’s massive bottle of high-octane rum and pile of empty credit chips. He rummaged through his pockets, picking out lint, a couple of pinched cigarette butts, and a condom. Jocelyn tapped the counter. She glanced at her brother again and her stomach convulsed. No time for this.
Come on, already
.

“It’s in here somewhere.”

Another alarm wailed.
Closer
. Her heart jumped, triggering a slip of control, enough to lose her grip. Her energy broke free and lifted toward the ceiling.
Not now
. Jocelyn pushed, forcing reentry. Blood trickled from the clerk’s nose, a nasty side effect of being forced into giving a ride. She raised her arm and wiped it on his sleeve. The poor clerk would have a migraine for days after she vacated, but she’d no time to be gentle. Not the way she liked to do this.

“That’s disgusting. Why don’t you use a tissue?” asked the man in front of her. Jocelyn shrugged, holding the sleeve to her nose. His lip curled and he took a step back, putting distance between them. “Do you have any idea how dangerous blood exposure is? I don’t want any disease you might have.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, using the clerk’s voice. Her mind drifted away from the man and to the window, where vehicle alarms blared. From a block away, the streetlights snapped off one at a time, sending the already dangerous neighborhood into feral darkness.
No, please. Not now
. One thing drew that much energy and it was charging up for a fight. She’d been right. They needed to leave.

Now.

“What’s out there?” The customer staggered away from the counter and toward the window. With his back to her, Jocelyn seized the moment, grabbed a handful of chips from the register, and shoved them into a bag. Outside, more lights died. Closer.
No, no, no. Just a little more time. Let me get him out of here
.

Nate eyed the man at the window and stepped forward, setting a digital postcard on the counter. A feeling of weightlessness pulled at her and Jocelyn refocused, barely maintaining control.
Thirty more seconds
.

Static fuzzed her vision. She shoved the bag across the counter as her brother slipped his hand into his pocket.

“You forgot your change.”

Nate glanced down at the bag and back up. His eyes widened. “Joce?”

“Run,” she croaked.

“Reaper!” The customer lurched away from the window, stumbling back. The lights in the store blinked off with an electrical pop, dropping it into darkness. Outside, hundreds of vehicle alarms wailed. The customer raised his hands into the air, staring at something outside. “I’m innocent!”

Jocelyn froze, unable to draw a breath. A man in dark silhouette stood on the sidewalk outside, a glowing globe in his hand. Blue luminous eyes stared at her.

“Get back in your body and get out of here,” Nate said. “I’ll distract him.” He pulled the gun from his pocket. “He can only take one of us.”

“Put that away. You’re not sacrificing….” Her hair stood on end as the reaper pulled energy from the air. “Shit.” She recognized the sensation, something she’d felt only once before.

“Get down.” She reached over the counter and shoved on Nate’s shoulder. He ducked his head, covered up with his hands, and fell to his knees. Jocelyn dropped behind the counter and stared at a baseball bat. Small chance that it would help, but it was nice knowing she wasn’t defenseless. “Now he’ll take us both. Smooth move, Nate. I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Reapers can only hold one soul at a time,” Nate snapped from the other side of the counter.

“Do you think that’s going to stop him?” The window exploded. Fragments pelted Nate’s back and tinkled like chimes on the industrial linoleum. He rose to his feet, spun, and lifted the gun, pointing it at the opening. “Now, Joce. Get out!”

“No. You’re not playing the hero.” Cold poured into the store, fogging the interior. The air charged with static, and the hair on her nape rose.
Again
. “Nate!”

The reaper sent another wave blasting through the storefront. Nate flew backward, slammed into a beer case, and came to rest in a heap on the floor. Her vision blurred, and the stench of ozone filled her nostrils. “Nate!”

Not now
. Her control snapped. Jocelyn ripped free from the clerk and exploded through the wall. Her soul collided with flesh like a runaway train, sending her glasses flying over the curb. She didn’t bother to retrieve them. She’d need them later but not now. Now she needed to
see
. She sucked in a breath, opened her eyes, and searched the shattered storefront. Sharp pains, like fragments of slivered metal, pierced her skull. Even moonlight proved almost too much.

The reaper stepped forward and peered in through the broken glass, soul-cell still in hand.
No
. Nate was right. He could only take one soul, and she’d be damned if it was going to be Nate.

“Leave him alone!”

The reaper turned his head and his gaze locked on to her. “You,” a deep voice boomed. He stuffed the egg-sized globe in a pouch on his hip and strode toward her, eating distance between them. His long duster fluttered behind him, giving him the appearance of the mythical reaper, minus the sickle. Except there was nothing mythical about him. He was real and coming for her. “You’re under arrest for past crimes enforced under the Galactic Codex.”

Stupid alien technology and laws. Still disoriented from the jump, Jocelyn crab-crawled backward. She found her footing and scrambled to rise. Not one of her more brilliant moments. She’d felt him nearby and should have gotten out instead of going into the store. But she couldn’t leave Nate, and he wouldn’t have left without the credit. But she could have drawn him away.

Did the reaper know she’d been inside the clerk, and what they’d done? Had he seen the gun? The way he’d moved for her brother made her certain he had. She braced against the wall. Her pulse raced and her mouth went dry. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“No.” The streetlight over her head snapped on, separating her from the shadows. He closed in, drawing the staff off his back. It pulsed in an array of oranges and blues, lit from his energies. Jocelyn closed her eyes, unable to take the light.

Enforcers were genetically manipulated in the womb, the strongest identified from birth, their talents cultivated and brains enhanced to increase the power of their gifts. Then, from the age of five, the children were given Ki-staffs and taught to use them with lethal accuracy. One hit and she was done. Jocelyn knew she wasn’t going to escape, but Nate? She had to help him before the reaper brought in reinforcements to apprehend her brother. She focused and jumped into her only sibling. His eyes were open, but his vision was fuzzy. He rubbed the back of his head and stared at the fragmented window, trying to summon the strength to climb to his feet. She relaxed. If she could distract the reaper long enough, her brother could get away.

“Get back here.” The reaper seized her energy and threw her back into her body.

“Please let me go. I’m not a criminal.”

“Says the fugitive with a warrant.” The streetlight overhead fragmented and showered down. “Look at me,” the reaper growled.

Jocelyn swallowed and complied. Her gaze drifted from his boots, up muscled thighs, up, up to a face cloaked in shadows.
Who?
Her knees began to quake. The energy radiating off him buzzed through her like a live wire. The muscles in her body locked and her breath caught.
Something about him
.

“I’m innocent,” Jocelyn spluttered. Her eyes felt as though they would burst. Still, she held his gaze, knowing that when she looked away, it would be over.

“Innocent people don’t have warrants.” He stepped closer and tossed a cube on the ground.

A holographic image of the document floated before her. Standard arrest procedure. She was seconds from becoming a battery. She stared through it and at him.

Yes, he was familiar. Of course they’d sent the best to bring her in. His face was unmistakable, and she’d heard he’d recently relocated from off-world. “Gabriel Solaris.”

“Jocelyn Miller.”

“You have to believe me. I’m innocent.”

“You have the right to remain silent.”

“Please, listen to me—”

“In 1670, you murdered a family in their sleep.”

“No. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’m not that person.”

“It was your soul.”

“How can you be certain?”
Keep him talking
.

“Your warrant.”

Yeah, that
. Jocelyn shook her head and pushed against the wall, trying to free herself from his energy lock. She’d carried the warrant from birth to adulthood and started running the day she turned eighteen because of it. “I didn’t do it. I could never kill anyone.”

The blue flame in the reaper’s eyes intensified and sent sharp pains spearing into her brain. “In 1860 you murdered your husband and cut him into pieces, feeding his body to swine. They caught you fleeing with your lover across Confederate lines and hung you both.”

No. She couldn’t have done that. A paper-cut made her ill. “You’ve definitely got the wrong girl.” He raised a brow, yet his mouth remained in a firm line. No, he wasn’t buying it. Jocelyn bit her lip and held his gaze.
Please see I’m sincere
. A face superimposed Gabriel’s. She blinked. The heat in her belly moved lower and made it impossible to catch her breath. “My God. Please listen to me.”

His mouth became harder and the image of the other man vanished. “There’s more. Do you want me to list everything, or are you done delaying the inevitable?”

“No. Please let me go. I won’t—didn’t do anything like that. I’m a good person.”

“You can’t fight who you are or who you were.”

“That isn’t who
I
am.”

He took another step. She swallowed and shook her head. Waves of his aura washed over her. God, he was beautiful—and familiar. “I couldn’t have done those things.”

She studied him, feeling as though it wasn’t the first time she’d looked upon him. His shoulders had to be at least twice the width of her brother’s. Aside from the obvious, black hair, strong jaw, and straight, sharp nose that bespoke his Roman ancestry, she knew the color of his eyes behind the blue glow, and that he had a scar on his hip. She knew his smile would stop her heart and his touch would send her into orbit. They were linked. For several lifetimes—they’d been together.
Oh, God
. She swallowed.

“It’s you. You may not remember in that body, but you’re marked by your deeds. Your energy leaves a trail. Even your eyes don’t lie.”

“You’re wrong.” She didn’t remember the crimes, but him—she knew him.

“Am I? In 1102, soldiers raped you and your sister then removed your eyes with a hot poker to keep you from identifying them.” He stared. “You later poisoned them. The only crime deemed self-defense. Forgiven.”

She focused on his boots, unable to take that knowing gaze. Jocelyn had never understood the reason for her light-blindness, but what he said felt like the truth. She shivered. The doctors couldn’t diagnose why the lenses in her eyes remained open. They were healthy and she wasn’t completely blind, only in the light. Even then, she wasn’t without sight. In the day, she traveled using the crowds, hiding behind solid glasses, jumping from body to body on the street, borrowing their vision, viewing the world from the sight of others.

It was the reason she lived in the city.

“I’m never wrong.” He stepped forward and put his staff under her chin to lift her gaze to his. More of his energy zipped through her body, warming her in a strange way. Not fear. Not the reaction she’d expected. She inhaled his scent and a flush of heat moved through her.

“You’ve jumped for the last time. Your crimes are documented, and you’ve been tracked.”

Jocelyn’s heart thumped.
Not when I’ve just found you
.

He lowered the staff and leaned in until a cloud of his breath brushed her cheek. His hand came up and touched her jaw, sending jolts racing through her. The pad of his thumb stroked her face. Jocelyn couldn’t get enough air into her lungs as she slipped the past. The image of another man with amber eyes danced across her vision. She reached for it with her mind and snagged a thread from her life hundreds of years before. A young woman cried in desperation as her true love died. Anger. Pain. Hurt. The loss of a man who had once been her everything.
Don’t leave me. I can’t live without you
.

“Blue.” The Roman soldier dressed in brilliant red pressed the flowers into her hands. “For the color of your eyes. What is your name, goddess?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I should know who I’ve lost my heart to.”