Reaver (36 page)

“The male who was here about Limos. Tall. Lots of leather. Long black hair. Asshole.”

Right. Asshole. Now she remembered him. He’d generously offered to let her suck his cock. As if.

Sure, he’d oozed danger and sex, and if she’d met him at a club, she’d probably have taken him home.

Except he’d be the one doing the mouth workout. Not her.

“I wasn’t planning on hanging out with him or anything. Why do I need to stay away from him?”

The doctor’s voice went low again. “He’s a fallen angel.”

Her gut did a slow slide to her feet. She had a fallen angel interested in her. As much as she didn’t

like the idea that Eidolon had seen through her False Angel facade, at least she trusted him. But fallen

angels were hazardous to people like her.

They hunted her kind for sport.

“Understood,” she whispered.

E nodded briskly. “Good. Now go check on Tav. He’s in exam three.”

Knees wobbling, mind spinning in a haze, she made her way to Tavin’s room. He was sitting on the

exam table, his black fatigues covering him from neck to ankles. Black combat boots completed his

assassin attire. Well, the weapons completed it.

He looked tired, the dark crescents under his eyes swollen with exhaustion. He also looked ready to

butcher something.

Just the way Revenant would look if he learned she wasn’t really a False Angel.

Stop it. You’re worried about nothing. He hasn’t been around in days. He may never come around

again
.

She squared her shoulders and put on her cheery doctor face. “Hi, Tavin. Eidolon said you have

something to show me.”

“You could say that.” He tugged down his collar to reveal his personal Seminus symbol, the one his

offspring would inherit just beneath their own symbols.

The markings would continue all the way to their fingertips, revealing the history of their paternity

for dozens of generations. It was kind of cool, really. One glance at another Sem, and a Sem like Tavin

or Eidolon could determine their relationship to each other. Tav and E, in fact, were related by a star

symbol far back in their family
dermoire
.

She peered closely at the vaguely familiar snake symbol. The horned head rose up from a body

coiled around a skull, and as she looked at it, she swore the tail moved. Squinting, she leaned closer.

“It looks like a—” She reared back. What had Eidolon said? An angelic symbol?

“What?” Tav let go of his shirt collar and twisted around to her. “What is it? Idess said it was an

angelic protection symbol gone wrong.”

Blas shook her head. “It’s not angelic. It’s
fallen
angelic.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Angels and fallen angels draw their power from different sources,” she explained. “So they have

different abilities and talents. For example, only an angel can create the patron cobra, and only a fallen

angel can create what you have. The death cobra.”

Tavin snorted. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but it was an angel who did it. Not a fallen angel.”

She shook her head. “Impossible.”

“I’m telling ya,” he said with a shrug.

She wasn’t going to argue. Not when she knew she was right. “Just for shits and giggles, let’s say

it’s the death cobra.”

“But I don’t want it to be the death cobra,” Tavin blurted. “That sounds really fucking bad.”

“It is. It’s a curse.”

“A curse? You mean, like a
curse
curse. Like, a
bad
curse?”

There really wasn’t any other kind, but seeing how the patient was getting worked up, she didn’t

point that out.

“Yeah. A bad curse.”

Tavin swallowed, and the snake shifted. Damn, that freaked her out. And she was used to weird shit.

“Okay, so what am I cursed with, and how can I get rid of it?”

“I don’t know how to get rid of it. As for the curse…” She blew out a long breath. “Poison. I’m

sorry, Tav, but it’s an ancient assassination curse, not even used anymore. Every time you agitate the

snake, it’ll bite. You’ll eventually die. “

“
Assassination?
”

She nodded. “Ironic, yes?” His flat stare said he didn’t appreciate the irony. “I’ll see what I can find

out about it. We’ll all work on this, Tav.”

Her name badge should read: DR. BULLSHIT. Curses were not easily broken.

“Fuck.” Tavin scrubbed his hands over his face. “Live by the poison, die by the poison. Awesome. I

have a new mantra.”

Well, she thought, it was better than hers: Live a lie, die a liar.

Don’t borrow trouble. You’ve survived almost two hundred years without a problem. Keep your

head down and your nose clean
.

The curtain swished open, and Gem entered, all perky despite the fact that she’d been on shift for

twenty-four hours. She must be getting ready to go home to her hot-as-hell husband and their

daughter.

“Hey.” Gem thrust a note and a single black rose into Blaspheme’s hand. “Someone left this for

you. Very romantic.” She acknowledged Tavin with a wave. “I’m outta here. See you later.”

Blas barely heard a word. Her gaze was glued to the note, to the block script that turned her blood to

ice. No, not ice, because thorns on the rose stem dug into her hand, and blood trickled down her wrist

and dripped onto the paper.

I’ll see you soon. Very soon.

It was signed.

Revenant
.

Twenty-Seven

“What is it you want, Verrine?” Raphael poured her a glass of ice wine made from the azure grapes

that grew in the Demura plains outside Archangel Hall. They were in the expansive kitchen of his

palatial home, and she wondered how long she was going to be stuck here.

And what his game was.

They’d just come from the entrance of a hellmouth, where Harvester had been trying to sense

Lucifer, but after watching Reaver lose his wings and fall from grace, her heart hadn’t been in it.

Besides, it appeared that Lucifer had been moved. Now she had to find a place on Earth where she

could get a signal, but it was going to take time.

Time they no longer had. So why were they in Raphael’s home talking as if they had nothing better

to do?

“Harvester,” she corrected as she took the glass of the crystal-blue wine without a thank you.

Raphael graced her with a patronizing smile. “You’ll get over that eventually.
Harvester.
” He

sipped his own wine and let out a moan of pleasure. “Now, tell me what you want.”

Your head mounted on a pole. That’s what I want.
“That’s a broad question. I want peace on Earth.

Three hundred and sixty-five days of Christmas. A ban on all remakes of eighties songs. Oh, and

Reaver’s angelic status restored.” She traced the rim of her glass with her finger. “Shall I go on?”

“Sheoul has not positively influenced your personality,” Raphael said, but she didn’t agree. Well,

mostly she didn’t agree. But he was still an ass. “Would you like to be the Horsemen’s Watcher

again?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he serious? He gazed at her with narrowed eyes, clearly waiting for a

reaction that he would, no doubt, use to his advantage.

So she didn’t give him one.

With a casual shrug, she tasted the wine. Instant arousal rushed through her veins and concentrated

in her breasts and pelvis. Wow. She eyed the glass. Raphael was a sneaky bastard, wasn’t he? No more

of that for her.

“I don’t think the Horsemen would appreciate it.”

“They might not like it, but their opinions don’t matter, and you know them better than anyone.”

“I suppose.”

Raphael took another drink from his glass, and his gaze darkened. He probably shouldn’t have any

more of the wine, either.

“We’re going to assign you as Watcher.”

Yes.
She gave another shrug. “Whatever. I suppose I need a job. But I’m telling you, they won’t be

happy. Not after everything I did as their Sheoulic Watcher.”

“But you were helping them.”

“I doubt they’ll see it that way, and even if they do, it’ll take them a while to get over it. Thanatos

especially.”

He gestured to her glass. “Have more.”

“I’ve never been much of a drinker.” Very deliberately, she put the glass on the counter. “Are we

done here?”

“Don’t you want to know what will make the Horsemen welcome you back with open arms?”

She resisted rolling her eyes. “I give. What will make them suddenly forgive me for everything I’ve

done?”

“A baby.” Raphael’s voice was low, seductive in a nonsexual way. Seductive in that way that

promised you everything you ever wanted. She was drawn in, no doubt exactly the way he’d planned,

and it occurred to her that she’d never had the upper hand in this negotiation. He’d only let her think

she had.

“What baby?”

“Limos’s. You didn’t know she lost it?” He smiled, a real I-have-you-now smirk she wanted to slap

off his face. “You can give Limos her dream back. You’ll be a hero.” He picked up her glass and held

it out. “Drink up, and I’ll tell you how.”

Reaver jolted into consciousness, head pounding, eyes filled with sand. Or glass. He dragged them

open and peered through slits at Eidolon’s concerned face hovering over him.

“How are you feeling?”

He cleared his raw throat, wondering why it was so sore. “Like I went through an industrial meat

grinder.” He frowned. “Where am I? Why are you here? Why do I keep waking up with you in my

face?”

“We’re in Israel. I’m here because Harvester sent word. And you keep waking up with me in your

face because you keep getting into trouble.”

Harvester. Right. She’d gotten her wings back.
Thank you, God
. She’d been so radiant, so full of

joy, and so had Reaver. Even through the misery, Reaver’s heart had soared for her.

He tried to sit up, but when his skull threatened to implode, he decided that lying on the ground for

a few more minutes couldn’t hurt. Then he remembered, with sickening clarity, being nailed to the

ground, and suddenly he didn’t want to be on it anymore.

He struggled to sit up, this time making it past the skull-shattering stage. “My wings are gone,

aren’t they?” He knew the answer, but he needed to hear it.

Eidolon’s eyes were sad. “I’m sorry, Reaver.”

He was a fallen angel.

Again.

Didn’t matter that he’d expected it. Hell, he expected to be destroyed. Still, pain that extended well

beyond the physical wrapped around him, squeezing like a vise. He let himself mourn for a moment,

and then he allowed Eidolon to help him to his feet, ignoring the aches that permeated every cell in his

body. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—dwell on this or regret that it happened. The goal had always been to

save Harvester from an eternity of torture. He’d have done it even if he’d known with certainty that

he’d lose his life or his wings.

What was done was done.

“Thank you, Eidolon.” Reaver clasped the doctor’s hand in his. “I know you don’t normally make

house calls.”

“Are you kidding? I’m always making damned house calls.” Eidolon reached into his medical bag

and handed him yet another pair of scrubs to replace the ones currently Swiss cheesed and drenched in

rain, mud, and blood. “I’ll admit I have an ulterior motive.”

“Are you offering me my job back?” Reaver asked as he stripped out of the destroyed clothes.