The Witching Hour (The Grim Reaper Saga (Urban Fantasy Romance)) (29 page)

She took a deep breath, resigned to another lonely night. “Hold on, let me get my coat.”

***

“Illuminate,” Eve commanded, and her ruby stone necklace flared to life, lighting the darkened alleyway behind her home.

Green dumpsters and brackish puddles of water filled the air with their own unique aroma.

“I can’t tell you how much this means to me, Eve.” Curtis glanced at her.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

He frowned. “Yeah.” There was an echoing sadness in his voice. With a slight shake of his head he turned and cupped his mouth. “Samhain, come here.”

“Samhain,” she called, joining in the hunt.

Empty boxes and crates full of rotted foodstuff was the only thing she could see. “Samhain, come.” She made kissing noises, trying to drive the cat out if it was indeed hiding somewhere in there.

The slow rumbles of thunder could be heard off in the distance. The rain she’d smelled earlier was fast approaching. She glanced toward the sky. A thin vein of light blue pierced the sky, and clouds glowed with lightning. This one was going to be a doozy.

She hugged her jacket tighter, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “C‘mere kitty kitty.”

Curtis walked deeper into the alley, throwing boxes around and calling out to the cat, desperation in his voice.

A soft meow caught Eve’s attention. She turned around and there, standing on the sidewalk and gingerly licking her paw, was the missing tabby.

“Samhain,” she hissed and marched toward the cat, picking it up under its fat belly. “You gave us a scare.” She scratched the orange cat between its ears. It purred, long and low.

“Oh,” Curtis cried, and ran toward her, relief spread across his face.

Eve held out the cat, ready to switch it over to the rightful owner. Curtis grabbed the tabby by the scruff and pulled it into his arms. Samhain hissed, kicking out its paws and flailing around until Mr. Lovelace hugged the fluffy cat to his chest.

She frowned. Since when had he started grabbing the cat that way? She wasn’t one to judge, but she hadn’t liked that one bit. A witch must always treat their familiars with respect. That had been rough and unnecessary.

“Thank you, Eve. I can’t begin to thank you enough.” He rubbed his cheek against the tabby’s face with a grateful smile.

Okay, so maybe that had just been a quirk. “It’s not a problem really,” she said and turned to head back to the apartment as the first drops of rain landed on her nose.

They walked the ten yards back to their apartment in silence. The wind was really picking up now, whipping her hair in her face. This was promising to turn into a gale. Not an uncommon thing for living so close to the coast.

Curtis unlocked the door and held it open for her. She ran through, shaking herself once she got out of the nipping wind.

“Getting a little frosty out there,” she said. “Well g’night, Curtis.”

“Wait. I’d really like to repay the kindness if I could.”

“That’s really kind, but you don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t.” He hugged Samhain to his face. “But I want to. How does breakfast sound tomorrow morning? My treat.”

She grimaced. “I don’t know. I think I might actually have to work tomorrow. If I take another day off Tamryn’s liable to have my tail.”

He chuckled. “No problem. I’ll just bring it over before you go to work.”

It seemed she was going to have a breakfast date whether she wanted to or not. She shrugged. “Okay, what the hey. Sounds like fun. I’ll meet you at your apartment say sevenish. Deal?”

“Alright,” he nodded. “But I’ll come to you. My pads a little messy. Woman sensibilities and all that, you know.”

She smiled and reached out, ready to give his forearm a squeeze with her final goodbye. But he stepped out of the way so fast it almost gave her whiplash.

She blinked, unsure of what to say or do.

Curtis gave her an apologetic shrug. “I’ve got a cold, don’t want you catching it.”

She narrowed her eyes studying him. Good color to his cheeks, nice even breathing, no fatigue lining his eyes. He didn’t seem to be sick at all, as a matter of fact he looked fit as a horse.

“Sure, Curtis.” She nodded, beginning to rethink the whole breakfast thing. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He nodded and walked to his apartment, slipping inside with one final wave. She shook her head.

A bath. That’s what she needed right now. She huffed and stomped up the stairs. Her night totally ruined.

Frenzy slammed his fist into the wall. Anger rolled through his veins. At the position he’d been put into. He clenched his jaw, perfect opportunity wasted. Ten past midnight. The day of her death. He should have done it. Had every intention of taking her. Forcing her into the street after the cat he’d conveniently lost. She should have been run over. He would have swiped the soul and all would be done.

He’d taken off his amulet, just long enough to port by her window, let Cian catch a small glimpse of him. He knew the reaper would run after him, try to find him, maybe even try to pound him to within an inch of his godforsaken existence.

He walked into the kitchen, placing his hands on the countertops and stared at the orange tabby.

His hands shook as the rage built inside him to a dangerous level. He should have taken Eve tonight. Cian was running looking for him, for a ghost that had vanished. It would have been simple. Perfect. And then Cian had glanced at Eve with that wild look of determination. That look that said: ‘nothing will happen to you. Not while I’m around. I swear.’

Frenzy shook his head--memories (always the memories)--they haunted him. Of his Adrianna and that very look he’d flashed her, only to return and find her dead. The horror of that night had become his living nightmare.

He closed his mind and hardened his heart. Eve would die. And by his hand.

Gong. Gong. Gong.
The strike of the grandfather clock snapped him from his trance like state. He jerked up and stared at the hands of the timepiece. Witching hour.

With a growl, he swiped his hand, opened the portal and stepped through into his Queen’s chambers. She glanced up. Her multi-colored hair was caught up in a knot, the tips fanned out to resemble the tail end of a bird’s feather. The red and black gleamed like fire and shadow.

Her lips were a deep shade of crimson, her eyes painted moss green, as was the gown tapering to her body. She reminded him of spring.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you ready?”

He ground his jaw and nodded. But not without a sickening twist to his gut. “I am.”

The Morrigan raised a black brow, red lips pressed into a razor thin line. “It’s fifteen past midnight.”

She was asking. Wondering why he hadn’t taken the mark’s life yet. “Cian hasn’t left her side. I haven’t had an opening.”

There was not a flinch or flicker that she’d heard him. But he could feel the gentle prod of her power. She was tasting him, reaching out with her essence, searching for deceit.

Posture relaxed, he eyed her, the force of his gaze screaming that he told truth and not lie, hoping that by sheer force of will she might believe him.

After a tense minute of silence, she crossed her legs and said, “Fine. But I don’t care how small the window of opportunity is; you strike at the earliest possible moment. No more mistakes.” A lashing rain of power punctuated her words, like the sharp nicks of a blade--piercing his face, his flesh.  

He counted slowly to ten as the anger snapped inside him like a piston. “There will be no more mistakes.”

The Queen narrowed her eyes, a swirling red beginning to overtake the blue. “See that there aren’t.”

There wouldn’t be. Not anymore.

“Good. Now go before Dagda returns and finds me scheming.”

***

Cian ran all around her block, frantic with worry, searching for Frenzy. Leaving Eve that way, seeing the hurt look in her eyes, it’d almost undone him. It had pierced his heart. But what could he tell her that wouldn’t send her into an immediate panic? Nothing. And so he’d done what he thought right.

He’d followed her and Curtis, waiting in shadow, watching them. Knowing that if Frenzy were going to attack it would be right then in that perfect moment. He’d expected a trap. Nerves alert and high, tense, sure that at any moment death would pounce at her.

But they’d found the cat and walked back inside. He’d closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her heartbeat, determining that it wasn’t flying erratic, that she was safe and he’d continued searching. For nigh unto an hour and still nothing.

It was as if Frenzy had simply vanished. He began to doubt himself. Question whether he’d really seen that flash of red. Or whether it was stress making him see what wasn’t there at all. But how could stress make him feel that tug of the reaper deep in his chest? It had to be real. Maybe it was a test, or simply a reminder, but Frenzy was definitely stalking and letting Cian know that with every chance he got.

A sound, like the gentle tap of wood against wood, caught his attention. He paused, barely breathing.

A quick shuffle. A shallow breath.

He ran like a blur, following the faint noise deep inside a labyrinth of alleyways, then the sound died. The light from the moon cast crazy shadows along the brick exterior as he stopped and watched.

Tap, tap, tap.

He twirled, the sound coming from behind. Disbelief almost choked the air from his lungs. A big squirrel sat on a crate tapping a rotten walnut against the wood. He sighed and the animal glanced up, went stiff for a second, and then took off. Its thick tail whipping through the night like a rust colored flag.

“What’s wrong with me?” He shook his head. Chasing ghosts. Looking for something that wasn’t there. He had to trust his senses. He’d made the right decision leaving earlier to find Frenzy. Now he had to trust himself and head back to her. The reaper was gone, vanished into the dark embrace of night.

He swiped his hand and opened the portal, arriving back at her apartment within seconds. He stayed just out of sight, careful to keep his distance. Eve was too sensitive for him to get any closer to her than across the street. She paced back and forth in her living room for a bit, until finally retiring to her bedroom.

But he felt her as surely as a wick to flame. She buzzed through his veins, an intoxicant to his senses. He clenched his jaw as the first sprinkles of rain fell down around him. A cold wind swept through the bay area. Lightning followed a rolling clap of thunder, filling the night with electrical currents of danger.

No one wandered the streets. Cian had only the howl of wind as company. It was a melancholy opus reflecting his torment.

Rain fell in a drowning deluge. The chill saturated his body and he began to tremble, unable to rip his gaze from the golden drop of light behind the curtain of her window.

Eve was encased in darkness, a lonely silhouette staring out at the world. He could picture her eyes watching the fury of the storm, entranced by the strikes of lightning, protected and safe within the warmth of her apartment.

He felt her everywhere, in his mind, her emotions twining with his own. Her sadness became his; her loneliness bloomed as a thorny rose inside him, gouging and bleeding him dry.

Cian closed his eyes and hunched into the wind. His hair tangled around his head like a charmed cobra, the strands lashing and tearing at his cheek with sharp slaps.

This wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t be happening to her. She was too young. Too full of life. Out of sheer frustration he roared, “Dagda!”

The driving wind ripped the name from out his mouth. More lightning crashed: jagged tears through the navy blue fabric of night.

“What?” A deep, familiar voice punctuated his thoughts.

He twirled, blinking away the deluge. “How can I save her? How?”

Dagda was encased in undulating shadow. They curled around his body, spreading throughout the area. The ebony of his eyes should have remained hidden, he should be a blank face full of darkness, and yet they glowed with earth’s power as he fed off the storm. This was the Earth God and he was in his element.

“Go to her, Cian. You haven’t much time left. Don’t look for shadows. Find her and you’ll save yourself.”

“I don’t want to save myself!” he yelled, the water filled his mouth, nearly making him choke on it. “I don’t care about myself. I need to save her.”

The creeping shadows surrounding the god began to fade, the substance of his body became ephemeral and unclear. Dagda’s voice rolled through the wind. “But isn’t that the same thing?”

Then he was gone and Cian knew what to do. The answer became so clear. He’d enjoy these last moments with her, savor them and keep them close. Her love had saved him. And now he’d do the same for her. He’d carry this night with him and in the morning, he’d go and find The Morrigan and trade his life for hers.

Lise had told him no. But Dagda had confirmed it. He’d vowed to save her and he’d meant it. A great burden lifted from his shoulders. She was safe. Finally, he’d figured out a way.