rocking chair off the porch
into the yard. There, wrapped in blankets against the chill of the
desert night, they'd search the sky for the Pearly Gates of Heaven.
Mama said if they were very lucky they might catch a glimpse.
Sometimes they thought they did. There were always falling
stars.
“Those are Guardian
Angles,” she'd told him. “Soaring down to Earth to save some happy
soul.”
Tonight there was a
true Angel nearby. Unfortunately the last thing she was interested
in was saving a soul-lost Reaper. He pushed away thoughts of his
mother, gone so very long. What would she have thought of him now?
Flipping over, he swam slowly back towards the shore, trying to
calm himself. Trying to come to terms with what had to be. He was a
Reaper, not a man, and he had made his dark bargain.
Tonight could not end
well, but it needed to end one way or the other.
Trick walked out of
the waves, shaking the sea water from his hair. Evie watched him.
Watched the lithe, graceful way he moved. Watched as the water ran
down the fine, firm lines of his body, dipping and curving along
the tight abdominal muscles and running in rivulets over his narrow
hips and strong legs.
Evie jumped down from
the rocks and drawing her sword, walked towards him.
Vengeance is
mine.
Chapter 10
The air shimmered as he summoned some of his
power, warming himself in the chill air. All the remaining moisture
on his skin rose in steamy waves as his body flushed with heat. He
looked up and saw her.
A wave crashed around
them, the sand shifting beneath their feet. Neither the Reaper nor
the Angel moved.
“You murdered four
innocents in Hungary and now you must pay the price, Reaper.”
He stared from the
burning sword to her face, the question in his eyes obvious.
That
question, more than anything else, stayed her hand when she could
have struck. When she should have struck. He knew what she was: vengeance, not
mercy, her mandate. Yet he didn't run. In the alley he hadn't run
either. He'd protected her from the Fallen and held her while she
healed. She had attacked him in the hotel room, not the other way
around. After binding her with the flaming lasso, he
fled.
The only thing Trick
McKitrick had injured was her pride.
“I'm not going to
hurt you.” He spoke in a slow, measured tone as though to calm a
wary animal.
His words took her by
surprise.
“Why
would you want to?” She raised her sword a little higher, “I mean,
aside from this .”
There was a heartbeat
of hesitation before he answered, “Indeed.”
“My Death Mark is
still upon you. Despite your protestations of innocence and your
attempts to blur it with Voodoo magic.”
He gave her his
dimpled smile. “Oh, you know about that, do you?”
She nodded, “I have
met Mr. Barracuda.”
“He's quite a
character, isn't he? A real powerhouse in the magic department.
Though he follows a very different celestial pantheon than you or
me.”
“Don't change the
subject.” She pointed up. “Death Mark. Above your head.”
Craning his neck, he
looked, “Can you really see it? I thought the magic was still in
effect.”
“Look harder.”
Narrowing his eyes, Trick summoned a measure of power, peeling
back the layers of reality around him to really see. And with his vision, the night
came alive . In the
waves he heard the resonant bark of a selkie, still in seal form,
calling to her family. Farther out in the deep water, the trilling
song of sea nymphs mixed with the sound of dolphins laughing. And
above his head, there it was, burning very faintly, still only a
shadow of itself, a fiery cross within a circle. Barracuda's spell
was working, but it was no match for the Angel's vision this
close.
"How did you find
me?” He pointed up, “Not with the Mark, I wager."
"I used to be a
detective."
He
laughed at that, how ironic. “Really? I mean really , really?”
She nodded, “New
Orleans police department. Seven years. Vice squad.”
“Well, I'll be
damned."
“You already
into the yard. There, wrapped in blankets against the chill of the
desert night, they'd search the sky for the Pearly Gates of Heaven.
Mama said if they were very lucky they might catch a glimpse.
Sometimes they thought they did. There were always falling
stars.
“Those are Guardian
Angles,” she'd told him. “Soaring down to Earth to save some happy
soul.”
Tonight there was a
true Angel nearby. Unfortunately the last thing she was interested
in was saving a soul-lost Reaper. He pushed away thoughts of his
mother, gone so very long. What would she have thought of him now?
Flipping over, he swam slowly back towards the shore, trying to
calm himself. Trying to come to terms with what had to be. He was a
Reaper, not a man, and he had made his dark bargain.
Tonight could not end
well, but it needed to end one way or the other.
Trick walked out of
the waves, shaking the sea water from his hair. Evie watched him.
Watched the lithe, graceful way he moved. Watched as the water ran
down the fine, firm lines of his body, dipping and curving along
the tight abdominal muscles and running in rivulets over his narrow
hips and strong legs.
Evie jumped down from
the rocks and drawing her sword, walked towards him.
Vengeance is
mine.
Chapter 10
The air shimmered as he summoned some of his
power, warming himself in the chill air. All the remaining moisture
on his skin rose in steamy waves as his body flushed with heat. He
looked up and saw her.
A wave crashed around
them, the sand shifting beneath their feet. Neither the Reaper nor
the Angel moved.
“You murdered four
innocents in Hungary and now you must pay the price, Reaper.”
He stared from the
burning sword to her face, the question in his eyes obvious.
That
question, more than anything else, stayed her hand when she could
have struck. When she should have struck. He knew what she was: vengeance, not
mercy, her mandate. Yet he didn't run. In the alley he hadn't run
either. He'd protected her from the Fallen and held her while she
healed. She had attacked him in the hotel room, not the other way
around. After binding her with the flaming lasso, he
fled.
The only thing Trick
McKitrick had injured was her pride.
“I'm not going to
hurt you.” He spoke in a slow, measured tone as though to calm a
wary animal.
His words took her by
surprise.
“Why
would you want to?” She raised her sword a little higher, “I mean,
aside from this .”
There was a heartbeat
of hesitation before he answered, “Indeed.”
“My Death Mark is
still upon you. Despite your protestations of innocence and your
attempts to blur it with Voodoo magic.”
He gave her his
dimpled smile. “Oh, you know about that, do you?”
She nodded, “I have
met Mr. Barracuda.”
“He's quite a
character, isn't he? A real powerhouse in the magic department.
Though he follows a very different celestial pantheon than you or
me.”
“Don't change the
subject.” She pointed up. “Death Mark. Above your head.”
Craning his neck, he
looked, “Can you really see it? I thought the magic was still in
effect.”
“Look harder.”
Narrowing his eyes, Trick summoned a measure of power, peeling
back the layers of reality around him to really see. And with his vision, the night
came alive . In the
waves he heard the resonant bark of a selkie, still in seal form,
calling to her family. Farther out in the deep water, the trilling
song of sea nymphs mixed with the sound of dolphins laughing. And
above his head, there it was, burning very faintly, still only a
shadow of itself, a fiery cross within a circle. Barracuda's spell
was working, but it was no match for the Angel's vision this
close.
"How did you find
me?” He pointed up, “Not with the Mark, I wager."
"I used to be a
detective."
He
laughed at that, how ironic. “Really? I mean really , really?”
She nodded, “New
Orleans police department. Seven years. Vice squad.”
“Well, I'll be
damned."
“You already
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