Somewhere deep in my chest, something started to ache. Finn was gone.
Chapter 15
Finn
“He’s doing this on purpose,” I said to Easton.
My brain was starting to feel like a patchwork quilt of death. Images of bodies stitched together in bloody little square-shaped memories were branded onto my retinas. Ever since the meeting, I’d barely had time to stop my head from spinning between reaps, let alone check on Emma as much as I’d like. I had a feeling that was the point, but was it punishment or a diversion? It felt like both.
It didn’t help that I couldn’t get last night with Emma out of my head. I didn’t
Easton peered into the dark alley in front of us. His violet eyes swirled with death. A rat scurried between my legs before it disappeared into a knocked-over metal trash can. Deep in the shadows, someone was whimpering. “Of course he’s doing it on purpose,” he said, pulling his scythe out. “What did you do this time?”
I’d let her see me. Touch me. I’d told her everything. Well, almost everything. That I’d barely managed to keep myself from going corporeal was the only reason the flesh wasn’t being filleted from my body at this very moment.
Revealing myself to her was probably one of the worst decisions I’d made since pushing Allison through the portal, but it felt…amazing. Seeing her rattled and sleep-deprived in the kitchen this morning didn’t, though. If we were going to do this, I’d have to let her get her sleep. The thought stopped me.
When Easton raised a brow, waiting, I finally just said, “The usual.”
“Well if it’s your
Easton slipped between the two crumbled brick buildings and I followed close behind. We were going to have to move fast. This kind of dark was a world all its own, where things crept and crawled and died in the night. The shadows were going to be hard to spot here.
Easton stopped a few feet from two ruined bodies, lying in bloody heaps on the pavement. The faces were black and blue and swollen beyond recognition, their limbs folded and bent into odd angles.
They’d been beaten to death. I pressed the back of my wrist against my mouth and backed away a step.
Easton looked at me over his shoulder and raised a brow. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?
Squeamish?”
“I just don’t see many like this.” I stepped up to get a better look and frowned. My reaps were generally people who still needed to grow up. Ones who were straddling a moral line. Not grown men part of a drug deal gone wrong. “They’re older. Way older than my usual reaps. Weird.”
Easton frowned and stepped into a dark puddle of blood that glistened in the green glow of the streetlamp. “That’s because they’re supposed to both be mine.”
I couldn’t hide my relief. “Thank God.”
But something was wrong. The pull was there again, burning and insistent. Forcing my feet toward the dead guy in the blue Windbreaker. “What’s going on?”
Easton looked at the dead man and back to me, his dark eyebrows drawn together like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “You have to take him.”
“What? But he’s not mine.”
He tipped his head back and groaned into the night. “Don’t you get it? Balthazar’s making good on his promise. Did you honestly think an unusually busy day at the office was going to be your only slap on the wrist?”
I shook my head almost mechanically, not wanting to believe it. No way did he know what I’d done last night. I hadn’t gone corporeal. I’d made sure of it.
“He warned you,” he said. “Now it’s time for you to get that glimpse he promised. And if we’re all wearing our
My chest throbbed with something like fear, but it was nothing compared to the clawing need to take the soul in front of me. A hollow hiss crept out of the darkness. Against the brick, a shadow slithered up the wall and then vanished, camouflaged by the night.
“Come on.” Easton nudged my shoulder. “Just follow my lead.”
I stepped forward and slid my scythe from its holster. All I could see when I stared down into the man’s cracked-open face was flames. Searing, painful, nightmare-inducing flames. I didn’t want to do this. Son of a bitch I did
Balthazar’s voice sent a shiver racing down my spine. Closing my eyes, I swung out and listened to the whistle of metal fly through the air before it plunged into the man’s soft flesh. Easton and I yanked at the same time and the souls came up, side by side, with dazed looks on their faces.
They looked gray, no shimmer, not an ounce of light left in them. The one with shaggy black hair swallowed and looked behind them at the shells of their former selves. “Holy sh—” Easton laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “Trust me, friend. There’s nothing holy about where you’re going. And just a tip.” He leaned in close and balanced his arm on the soul’s shoulder.
“Don’t say
“Down there?” The soul backed away from Easton until he was standing in a pile of empty flesh.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, please. Tell me you’re brighter than that.” Easton pointed to the silent guy in the blue Windbreaker. “Look. Your buddy over here already has it all figured out. Don’t ya, big guy?”
He nodded, staring blankly at the blood-splattered pavement. “Hell.” He looked up at his friend.
“We’re going to Hell, Caleb.”
“Ding, ding, ding!” Easton smiled. “We have a winner.”
At the sound of his words, a loud
This time they expected me to go with him.
“Anybody feel like a swim?” Easton slid his scythe back into his belt. Before either of them could say a word, he had the dark-haired guy by the arm. Easton gave me a two-finger salute and stepped off the ledge and into the black vortex of screams, dragging the flailing soul named Caleb behind him.
My soul tried to back away but I grabbed him by the wrist and shook my head. “Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”
I didn’t think after that. I just wanted to get this god-awful night over with. I wanted to get back to Emma and make sure I hadn’t driven her off the deep end. Squeezing his wrist, I stepped off into the darkness.
Hitting the ground sent a shock wave of heat up through the soles of my feet. Ash fluttered down out of the sky like dirty snow, and barbed wire stretched down the path on either side of us, held up by intricate iron fence posts that were topped with skulls. The sharp metal thorns dripped with something red. Up ahead, an enormous structure of jagged ash-covered stone erupted from the ground, the entrance blocked by two flaming gates.
When Easton stopped just short of the gates to talk to someone cloaked in black, I turned in a slow circle, not wanting to see, but needing to. An island of misfit playground equipment sat solemnly on the other side of the fence. I couldn’t stop staring at one of the rusted swing sets. It looked just like the one Henry and I used to play on after church on Sundays when we were little. One of the swings glided back and forth with no one in it. Next to it,