Page 68 of Heir of Illusion

“Ivy?” a male voice calls, breaking the strange trance between us.

Thorne is gone in an instant.

As if I was being held up by his presence alone, I nearly slide to the ground. Thankfully, no one sees me catch myself at the last moment. I find the reaper with his back to me as he stares at the intruder, a predator sizing up his prey. Several feet past him, stands Nolan, Morwen’s fiancé. His sandy brown hair is plastered to his forehead as the rain pounds against him. Instead of seeking shelter inside, he stands frozen by the back door of his bakery. His throat bobs as he takes in Thorne’s aggressive stance. I don’t miss the way Nolan straightens his posture and puffs out his chest in response.

“Everything alright, Lady Iverson?” Nolan asks, his voice sounding deeper than before.

“I’m fine,” I assure him, keeping my gaze on Thorne as I edge a few feet in his direction. “Go back inside.”

He must do as I asked because I hear the heavy door slam shut.

Hopefully, the reaper won’t think too deeply about why a random man addressed me so informally. The last thing I need is for him to poke around and figure out Nolan’s connection to my illicit activities. The sweet baker is the perfect go between to deliver messages from Della to Morwen, who then relays them to me. Thorne may know I’m the Angel of Mercy, but he has no idea who else is involved, and it needs to stay that way.

Thorne continues watching the door for a few more moments before turning back to me. Whatever existed between us a few moments ago is gone. There’s no trace of warmth in his expression now, only cold suspicion.

“You must come here often to be familiar with the neighbors,” he says, somehow managing to make the statement sound like an accusation.

Swallowing my disappointment over his abrupt change in demeanor, I force myself to be ambivalent. I slip into one of the easy roles I often play and shrug dismissively.

“I enjoy the ambiance.”

His eyes narrow. “That all you enjoy?”

“Oh, Reaper.” I offer him a flirtatious smile. “I’m fond of all manner of things.”

Wisps of shadow curl around the edges of his eyes. “What did Darrow tell you?”

“Go ask him yourself if you think you’ll get anything out of him.”

His head tilts to the side as he examines me, no doubt trying to find a new angle to get what he wants.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Angel.” His tone is softer now, more intimate. “We can share information.”

“Alright,” I agree. “You first.”

He heaves an exasperated sigh, as if I’m the one being difficult. A hysterical laugh bubbles up as something inside of me snaps.

“How did you find me here today?” I demand, stepping forward. “How do you always know where I am, even when I’m invisible? And why can I sense when you’re nearby? Right here.” I pull up my hair, exposing the back of my neck. “Ifeelyou. Why?”

I wait for a response that doesn’t come. Instead, he remains unreadable, offering no explanations.

“Why did you keep my secrets?” I continue, unable to stop. “Why didn’t you tell Baylor the truth? That would have been easier than manipulating me into convincing him to let me help you.”

His face betrays nothing. Whatever he’s thinking is hidden behind a mask of cold indifference. Or maybe there is no mask. Maybe he truly doesn’t care. The thought severs whatever’s left of my self-control.

“What do you want from me?” I scream.

Rain pounds against the ground around us, blurring our surroundings as it creates the illusion that we’re completely alone.

“Why does Death need the sword?” I keep going. “Who does he plan to use it against? By helping you find it, am I complicit in someone’s murder? Another God’s perhaps?”

“Since when do you have a problem with killing?” Thorne steps forward, throwing the words at me like a weapon. “Isn’t it the thing you’re most known for?”

I step back, my shoulders curling inward as if I’ve been struck.

His words seep through my clothes, burning my skin with their truth. I am a killer. In fact, that’sallI am. All I do. I kill and I lie. Guilt boils inside of me as that cell in my mind fractures once more, allowing all of my haunted memories to spill out.

Would you do anything for me?

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