Page 4 of A Shadow in the Reaping
The man in the distance bends his head, shaking it in feigned resignation. He looks up at us again. He looks at me. "Apologies, Reaper. But no-can-do."
"Then I will reap you all," Ashen says, with no anger or emotion evident in his voice.
Fucking hell. Balls of steel. He doesn't seem very troubled that we're about to face an entire pack of werewolves. It's as though he was picking up his laundry or ordering a latte. It's like he went into a bakery to buy one donut and thought,you know what, fuck it. I burn a shitload of calories killing other immortal creatures, I can eat whatever the hell I want. I'll just have them all.I imagine him at the donut counter, staring down at a case of pastries, and saying to some zitty teenagerI will reap them all.
I burst out laughing.
Like, properly laughing.
Fuck.
At least I didn't talk.
The Reaper looks back at me with an assessing gaze as my laughter dies in my throat. I feel like he's close to working something out, and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. I put up my hands in apology and then sweep them toward the pack ahead in an invitation to continue. The Reaper’s brow furrows. He finally turns back to the spokesman of the pack and I let go of the breath I've been holding.
"This is your last chance, wolf. Bring your Alpha to me."
There is a moment of quiet before the sound of ripping fabric fills the air between us. The suit tears across the transforming body of the werewolf as he drops into the fog. There are sounds of pain, bones breaking and remaking. I can hear the fur sprouting through their skin. I can hear their teeth sliding through their gums. There's the nasal sound of snarling and the throaty sound of growling. When they rise as wolves in the mist, they are all focused on me, as though the Reaper between us didn't even exist.
Ashen looks over his shoulder and pins me with his eyes of flame. My heart kicks to a halt. One sweep of his sword and he could kill me. One sweep of mine, and I could fell another Reaper. Another demon dying on my sword for the sister they took from me. But I don't raise my sword to him, and I don't know why. I hold his gaze.
"Are you ready, vampire?" the Reaper asks.
I turn my glowing red eyes to the line of wolves in the mist.
I nod.
I'm ready.
The lesser ranking pack members are the first to advance. They stalk forward, snarling their fury, their heads below the line of fog but their eyes glowing within it. As the first bursts out of the mist, the Reaper is already swinging.
The blade tears through muscle and slides against bone. I smell the wolfblood. The beast yowls in pain and drops from the Reaper's blade, falling to the slick asphalt of the alley. Embers and ash lift starward as the body falls apart.
The Reaper kills the next two before I finally get a shot.
A wolf with black fur and shining orange eyes explodes from the fog. He leaps past the Reaper, whose sword is pressed to the hilt within the body of another. The black wolf snarls at me and I hiss in his face as I bury my sword in his neck.
I love hissing. It sounds vicious and I don't get to do it enough.
Same with killing werewolves.
As I turn my sword away and kick the werewolf free of my blade, I realize I've been missing this mayhem in my quiet, under-cover life. Lately, I only hunt for food, not for fun anymore. It feels good to use my strength again.
I pass the Reaper and meet the next wolf before he has the chance to jump. My shoulders roll as I sweep the sword in a seamless arc. The edge of the blade splits the vertebrae apart, severs tendon and flesh. The wolf's head slips free of his body. The heart pumps a spray of blood across my face.
I lick my lips and look over my shoulder at Ashen with a joyous smile. A crease appears between his brows as he gives me a dark and thoughtful frown. When I turn back to the wolves, they are no longer holding their ranks back.
They send everyone.
They surround us. Ashen and I position ourselves to fight back-to-back. Some of the werewolves push into one another as they close ranks. Two of them snap and snarl as they bump shoulders. Predictable. Werewolves are always jostling for position. But the Reaper and I, our blood is liquid patience. We wait. We wait for the wolves to make the first move.
I still and listen to the cadence of my breath. I hear the slow thrum of my heart. I feel the heat of the Reaper behind me and see flashes of the hellfire on his blade as it cuts through the air, swinging like a pendulum from one side to the next.
The first wolves surge ahead. These ones are bigger, stronger. But I don't see the distinctive, electric blue eyes of an Alpha among them. Time seems to speed up as Ashen and I cut and slash and stab and spin. We dance. Our swords never touch. We're like strings of the same instrument, meant to play a melody together.
I shake my head.A melody? ... For fucksakes. You know what? It's true. We vampires have a problem separating danger and desire.
I refocus on the task at hand, namely slicing werewolves and hissing venomously while I can. I should have kept a tally of kills; I'd like to shove it in the Reaper's face once this battle is done. But then, I might not get the chance. I think he's going to figure it out. He's going to realize that I'm not just any vampire.
