Page 105 of Death Wish

“She’s got a point.” Cole said, and then a scurry of footsteps followed in my wake.

At the edge of the woods, three shapes came into view. As expected, there was Angel, whose bark turned into a low whine the moment she saw me, and two shadowed figures huddled together at the base of a tree.

It wasn’t until I was a few steps away that I noticed the blood trailing onto the ground and Sean had something draped across his lap. Soft sobs came from Sean as he stared down at the frail-looking man cradled in his arms. His father. Wyatt. Lying deathly still but with eyes open.

Blood dribbled down his chin, but his lips moved, his words coming out too gurgled and soft for me to hear. Whatever he was saying, Sean could hear him, though, and he leaned in closer as the tears slid down his face.

My heart clenched. I knew what I was witnessing here. I was all too familiar with it. Wyatt was dying. From the looks of it, he might have pierced a lung or two and he was slowly drowning in his own blood.

Sean seemed to know it, too. Because even though Wyatt tried to smile up at him as he whispered to his son, the tears kept flowing.

Oh, how I regretted following Angel’s barks. I didn’t want to see this. Even though I’d only known the two for a little while, I still cared for them. Watching Sean hold his father like he was frailer than a newborn and shaking with grief was heart-wrenching.

My feet started pedaling backwards, but then Kay’s gasp reminded me they had followed me here. Sean’s head snapped up, and when he saw us, desperation clung to his watery gaze.

“Cole. Jade,” he choked out. “Please. Do something. Anything. Help him. Please.”

Cole hurried to Wyatt’s side and examined him, looking for a way to save his life, but I already knew the truth. He wasn’t going to survive this. His body was already shimmering, his soul readying to leave the body.

When Cole realized he couldn’t help, he glanced over his shoulder at me. “Jade,” he whispered. “What can we do? There has to be something.”

My voice lodged in my throat, and tears prickled the backs of my eyes.

What could I do?

Nothing. There was no way to cheat death. Unfortunately, I had learned this many times during my year as a reaper. If I didn’t deliver the death touch, the soul would leave the body on its own, like it had with Marla. Without a reaper to direct it, the spirit could be lost, forced to wander a world it was no longer a part of forever.

And that also meant Wyatt would have to keep suffering until he passed. Drowning was a terrible way to die. I couldn’t let that happen to him. But to kill a friend? To kill a father in front of his own son? How could I do that?

“Jade, please…” Sean’s desperate tone stabbed at my chest. “Don’t let my father die. He’s all I have left…”

I glanced down at Wyatt. His body shimmered again, warning me he didn’t have much time.

“Sean, I—”

Wyatt’s lips moved again, but this time no sound emerged. Blood leaked from the side of his lips, and he coughed, splattering more of it all over Sean’s shirt.

I took a deep breath. As much as I hated to do this to Sean, I had no other choice. To secure Wyatt’s afterlife and make his passing easier, I’d have to touch him. Even if it killed me to do it.

“All I can do is help him cross over,” I said. “I can assure his soul is put where it needs to be.”

Sean shook his head frantically. “No, no, no. There has to be another way. A spell. An incantation. Something. Pop, you know! You have to know. Tell me what to do. You can’t leave me. You’re all I have left.”

The ghostly glow pulsed around Wyatt’s body. The soul was readying to break free.

“He doesn’t have much time, Sean…” I said. “I’m sorry.”

Sean glanced at Cole, who only nodded solemnly.

“It’s what Wyatt would want,” Cole whispered.

Then, through his sobs, Sean agreed.

I knelt beside them, and with my eyes closed, I lifted my hand to Wyatt’s neck. I said a small apology to him for allowing this to happen before pressing my palm against his bare skin.

Immediately, Wyatt’s spirit rose out of his earthly body, looking like a more polished version of himself. Brushed and newly braided hair, a clean plaid shirt, jeans, a shiny oversized belt buckle, and a big leather cowboy hat to top it all off. He stood beside his son, who didn’t see him, and smiled my way.

“I know it was hard for you to do that,” Wyatt said. “But thank you. It was getting a bit too tight in there.”

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