Page 26 of Destined to the Reaper

Is that a problem for me?

While I considered myself more of a Bone and Blood Witch than a necromancer, The idea of fucking a skeleton held zero appeal. If he turned out to be some kind of a shade or wraith, that would already be a lot less distressing. After all, his current form could be labeled as such to a certain extent. And I couldn’t get enough of intimate moments with him that way.

The flame of shame sparked low in my gut mixed with the one of my blossoming arousal. Pharos was ruining me for any other man. He’d been fiercely passionate and blissfully voracious in each of our encounters. But that had not stopped him from being intently attentive to my pleasure. Granted,making me climax served his main purpose of making me loosen enough to be more receptive to hosting parts of him. It also provided him with the emotional and sexual energy that helped replenish his reserves of power.

However, I’d been surrounded by his soul as he made love to me. A soul could not lie. The attraction—not to say affection—he was feeling for me couldn’t be denied.

That thought, more than anything else, answered all my previous questions. I loved the feel of his soul as much as he loved mine. Regardless of what his body turned out to be—skeleton, wraith, or anything else in between—I wanted to keep exploring whatever this was between us.

If he was willing, I wanted to pursue a relationship with him and see where it took us.

But why didn’t he contact me tonight?

I heaved an aggravated sigh as the same pointless questions about what might have kept him away replayed in my head. It was already close to four in the morning. Despite the late hour, sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned for hours, dozing in and out, each time awakening with a start, wondering if it was in response to a poke from Pharos… which it hadn’t been.

Morning found me a complete wreck and still no news from him. I spent the entire day beside myself, counting each minute as they stretched endlessly until nightfall. In a terrifying repeat of last evening, I waited in vain in the clearing without even the slightest hint of Pharos attempting to contact me. I returned home devastated and feeling utterly helpless.

I couldn’t do anything except wait for him to reach out to me. But what if he couldn’t? I wanted to believe the situation wasn’t as dire as my paranoia kept claiming it was. That night proved even more fitful than the previous. I woke up exhausted, stressed, and even angry. As much as I repeated to myself that Pharos wasn’t staying away of his own free will, the nasty voiceat the back of my head wouldn’t stop repeating that I’d been played.

The plan had been for me to go to the crypt either today or tomorrow. Last night would have established whether I was hosting enough of him to allow for a quick transfer before Cornelius could intervene.

Even if I’d been so bold to go ahead regardless, two separate issues kept me from proceeding. First, I had no clue about his body’s specific location inside the crypt. Second, I couldn’t make the journey into the bowels of this accursed place without being certain Pharos could go through the ritual as soon as I reached my destination. If exiting would prove as dire as he claimed, it would be foolish for me to throw away that attempt without confirmation that he would be there.

In spite of my growing sense of the futility of it all, I got back to work preparing for the mission. As I had done over the past few days, I spent the next few hours further studying everything I could get my hands on regarding the crypt and its inhabitants.

When I once more failed to hear from him by mid-afternoon, I gave up on this happening today. No one in their right mind would venture into that place at night. While daytime was extremely dangerous, nighttime was essentially suicidal. My goal had been to head out first thing in the morning, a plan I had intended to discuss with him last night.

As the sun began to set on the horizon without even the slightest poke or nudge from Pharos, I weighed my options. Tomorrow would be October thirty-first: All Hallows. Pharos heavily hinted that it would be an excellent day for the ritual as the Veil between the mortal plane and the Shadow Realms would be thinner. Death Magic would be significantly enhanced over the three days of All Hallowtide, reaching its peak on November second.

Based on our prior conversations, Pharos wanted to have his ultimate confrontation with Cornelius on that last day: All Saints Day. None of this would be possible unless we proceeded with our plan in the next 24 to 48 hours.

Struck by a sudden inspiration, I decided to stir the pot by writing a note to Cornelius pretending I was open to offering him some form of payment in exchange for my brother’s liberation. As he was always on the lookout for rare artifacts or reagents, surely there was something he wanted that I might be able to acquire for him. Obviously, he would soundly reject that offer. The wretched male wanted to break and humiliate me. The more I resisted his demands, the more determined and rabid he became in his sick need to put me back in my place and teach me never to challenge my betters.

However, he wouldn’t be able to read it without Pharos also seeing it. I hoped it would be enough of a nudge to get him to let me know somehow what was going on. Worst case scenario, it would make Cornelius reveal that he was on to us so that I could take the appropriate measures to protect myself.

As I couldn’t come anywhere near Cornelius or his minions for fear they would detect Pharos’s essence inside me, I sent the note by a raven, not holding my breath regarding a quick follow up. Knowing that foul necromancer, he would delay his response out of sheer cruelty, thinking I was desperately waiting with bated breath. Except, I didn’t give a shit about hearing from him. Getting a sign—any sign—from Pharos was all I cared about.

To my shock, I received a response less than an hour later. Heart pounding, I retrieved the note bound to the leg of the raven before greedily reading it. I barely noticed their bird taking flight to return home.

My jaw dropped, and then an intense wave of relief washed over me as I read the note. Written by one of the servants, it indicated that Cornelius was out of town for a few daysand would return in the morning or the day after next. As disappointed as I felt about that impromptu trip derailing our plans, the depth of happiness swelling through me at the knowledge that Pharos was safe and that circumstances beyond his control were the only reasons for his silence left me reeling.

I really cared about him.

Considering the horrible nights I’d spent over the past two days, I decided to turn in early. To my shame, now that all tension and worry about his welfare had been lifted, I caught myself fantasizing about the Reaper. How could I have gotten so addicted to him in such a short time? Sure, I’d been celibate for a while. Considering how mind-blowing sex was with him, any red-blooded woman would be craving him as much as I was. A nagging small voice at the back of my head hinted that my inability to just have casual sex without becoming emotionally involved explained my reaction to him. But at a visceral level, I knew this was different. Something special was happening between us.

No sooner did I get under the blankets than my hand found its way between my thighs. Try as I may, with my fingers rubbing my clit, and my left hand fondling my breast, I vainly tried to rekindle some of the intense sensations Pharos systematically stirred in me. While I succeeded in finding some kind of release, it so thoroughly paled in comparison to the devastating orgasms my lover gave me that I found myself feeling even more frustrated and achy than before I touched myself.

Exhausted, I let sleep claim me with the secret hope my dreams would provide me with a more satisfactory experience of naughty dalliances with my Reaper than my hand had.

And did I ever sleep!

However, none of it was of a raunchy nature. It did prominently feature Pharos. But he didn’t speak a single word. In my dream, I was startled awake by him standing at the footof my bed. Pharos waved for me to follow. As I was sitting up in my bed, the room blurred, and I found myself standing in my nightgown outside the entrance of the crypt in the middle of the Hemdell graveyard. He pointed at the sun above us. Judging by its position, it was at its zenith. Pharos then pointed at the crypt, and a purple thread appeared to shoot out of his index finger then flowed in its direction.

Before I could question him, the Reaper started gliding towards the entrance. I lifted my foot to shadow him only for our environment to blur again. This time, we were inside the building once my surroundings stabilized.

While it had been no bigger than a large mausoleum, the crypt served as a doorway into a massive underground lair. Multiple staircases took us through nine various levels, as if in a twisted attempt to replicate those of Hell. The purple thread continued to mark the way, stretching ahead each time Pharos pointed the direction to follow. Jumping from one specific location to the next with that same blur, my companion led me through the crypt. Each time, he would silently gesture at the way to go. It would be quite the journey through a stairs maze, hidden passages among walls pockmarked with arched alcoves that undoubtedly hid foul creatures, a flooded area with dark water beneath which some massive fiendish creature lurked, and finally a large chamber with a sacrificial altar. A desiccated body, that I could only presume was his, lay atop it.

Pharos indicated a spot by the head of the altar. With his fingertip, he drew a circle as if to mark where I was to draw the portal.

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