Page 72 of A Shadow in the Reaping
His gaze falls away from mine. He drags a palm through his hair and presses his hand to the back of his neck as he lowers his head. I see the growing light of his eyes reflected in the polished surface of the bar.
"I'm sorry, Lu," he whispers, keeping his eyes lowered for a long moment. It seems to take a lot of effort to meet my gaze. When he does, I see desperation there. Despair. Remorse. Sadness that swells like a raging sea crashing against a rocky shore. "I should not have brought you here. I think you're right. I think it is a trap. But we need to go, in case we haven't yet sprung it and we can still get out."
I down my last shot of tequila and lean across the bar, folding my hand across Ashen's wrist to pull his knuckles to my lips. They're still spattered with Jessie's blood. I press a kiss to his skin, letting my lips linger there while I inhale the scent of Ashen's skin beneath the stains.
"All right, Reaper," I say when I let go. I offer a faint smile that does nothing to douse the fire in his eyes. "Follow me."
I lead us between the tables in a path to the left side of the room where a set of black stairs ascend toward the glittering crystal fixtures suspended from the ceiling. They end at a wide landing with leather couches and dramatic flower arrangements, high tables and expensive artwork in ornate gold frames. There's a V.I.P. lounge to the left and I can already tell it's empty. There's no breath, no heartbeat, no scent. On the right is a short corridor with an office on either side. Again, the rooms are empty, silent. Straight ahead is a final set of stairs. The stairs to the roof.
Ashen and I stand at the base of the staircase. I look to the closed door at the top. I think about the first and last time I was here, when the music was pulsing through my chest, confusing the rapid beat of my heart. My palms had been slick with anticipation. I remember the taste of venom on my tongue. I hadn't seen Bobby Sarno in person since that day in the village when he'd sneered at me as I writhed in flame, bound to the stake. I had climbed those stairs with a singular purpose, to claim my revenge on the last man left to see me burn.
I got what I came for. I lured him alone to the roof. When the spell of my disguise melted into the night and I saw the recognition in his eyes, I pressed his temples between my palms. I twisted his head until the bones popped and his body shuddered. He fell to my feet in a lifeless, twitching heap. I watched until he stilled, and then I jumped from the roof to disappear back into my quiet, hidden life.
And now here I am, and it feels like the ghost of Bobby Sarno is right here with me, like he's waiting on the roof. I know it's silly. His soul isn't trapped in the Shadow Realm, and it's not trapped here either. He died between my hands and there is no coming back. And somewhere along the line, it feels like that version of me died too. I would still kill him, don't get me wrong. I'd still relish every second of his life ebbing away between my palms. But I don't want to simply hide anymore. I don't think I'm meant for that life, because it doesn't feel like living.
I take Ashen's hand. His skin radiates warmth. I pull a deep breath to the bottom of my lungs.Thisfeels like living.
"All right, vampire?" Ashen asks, looking down with a faint smile.
I nod. I give a smile in return despite a swell of nerves that churn in my belly.
We ascend the narrow staircase with our hands still clasped together. Ashen's blade brightens with flame. When we stop on the landing, Ashen turns the handle. He cracks the door ajar. I listen for sounds from the roof but there's nothing out of place. It's only the sound of birds traversing the sky. Cars down below on the road. I give a single nod and he pushes the door open.
We walk onto the roof. The bar is unlit, chairs turned upside down on the tables. We walk to the right and look down into the alley where nothing seems amiss. We check the other side that faces the front of the building and it's only cars and the empty sidewalk. I glance up at Ashen and smile. He returns my gaze with a wary look, but I see a touch of relief in his eyes. We move away from the edge of the building and start toward the fire escape at the far end. My eyes flick to the exact spot where Bobby Sarno's last breath was spent before I focus on the iron railings that curve toward the street below.
"I have to say, Reaper, I do love getting away with things."
A deafening crash bursts in my ears. A blinding light scorches my eyes. Ashen's arms wrap around me as we fall, a thousand pins of flame piercing my skin.
There is sulphur and smoke. There is pain and the scent of blood.
And then there is nothing at all.
Chapter 31
My eyes are sticky. My lids pull apart and I blink the film of blood from my vision. Smoke and dust clog my lungs. I try to cough but the sharp points of broken ribs press into my chest. Thick, dark blood flows from the innumerable cuts and punctures in my skin. I see something shining in my arm, metallic and foreign in my flesh. I shift and pull my other hand from beneath my body. My fingers tremble with shock as I grip the bloodied metal and pull. A nail slides free from a deep hole between my bones.
"That's just swell," I say to myself, but I can't hear the words I make or the sound of the metal as I flick the nail onto the broken bricks.
There's a weight across my body that presses my ribs into my lungs with every breath. I groan and cough as I try to sit up, but the most I can manage is to roll onto my back. The smell of blood is suffocating. My own. Jessie's, dried and coated with dust. The Reaper's.
I look down at my body. The weight across my torso is Ashen.
I grit and growl and fight thepain as I push Ashen's heavy frame to my side. His arm rolls away from me and hits the debris that lies scattered around us. I can't see his face. His head is turned away from me. I drag myself closer, calling his name over and over. I can't hear the desperation in my own voice. But I can feel tears that cleanse the cuts on my cheeks with their salty sting. I lay my hand beneath Ashen's face and turn his head toward me.
His eyes fix their unseeing gaze toward the sky.
"Ashen... Ashen wake up."
I caress his blood-streaked skin with broken fingers.
"Ashen..."
I lean my ear against his chest, hoping to feel the rise and fall of his bones, the evidence of movement in his lungs. He is still. My shaking fingers touch his neck and his lips, searching for any sign of a heartbeat or a breath. There is nothing. I wail in frustration and despair, but the sound that escapes from the very center of my soul is little more than a muffled cry in my own ears.
My fangs slide from their sheathes and I bite into my wrist, holding my dripping blood over Ashen's parted lips. It flows into his mouth just as I see the first grey flake peel from his skin and lift toward the sky. There's another, and then another, and then more, and more, until I can't count them. They lift around me and drift away on the breeze. Then a light, cinders and smoke, sparks that take flight. The features of Ashen's face dissolve beneath my hands. His flesh turns to dust and I close my eyes, tears flowing across my skin as I weep.
I don't hear it coming. A crack of blinding pain hits the base of my skull, and the world and all my sorrow disappear.
