Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet (23 page)

“They’re like cockroaches. Once they escape onto this plane, they can hide for centuries
as long as they stay out of the light.”

He’d told me before, they’d been banished from the sun when his father was cast from
the heavens. It was now lethal to them.

“They weren’t all in that basement, but most of them were. Still, this is organized.
Way more organized than anything the lesser brethren would be capable of. I’m not
surprised Hedeshi is behind it. He was always such a suck-up.”

I was hoping to get more answers before he went gallivanting onto the battlefield,
hunting down the suck-up. This was a rare opportunity. Having Reyes Farrow all to
myself without someone trying to kill us, or without women standing around gawking.
Well,
other
women standing around gawking. I didn’t count.

“What am I capable of?” I asked, changing the subject again.

He filled his lungs to capacity and accepted my query with grace. “Only you can know
that.”

The room grew darker by the minute with the setting sun. I stood and leaned toward
him until I could smell the earthy essence he’d been born with. Like a lightning storm
in a dessert desperate for rain. “I want to know, Reyes. You keep telling me I’m capable
of so much more. I want to know what.”

His eyes shimmered with interest. “I’m not lying. I don’t know.”

I took the bottle and shoved away from the table so I could rinse the taste of bile
out of the back of my mouth. After taking a swig of a liquid acidic enough to melt
the paint off a Chevy, I swished it around, then swallowed. My eyes watered as it
seared my already raw throat; then I handed the bottle back and strode to look out
the window. I had to ease the thick curtains aside to see onto Central as rush hour
traffic came to a head in the evening gloam.

“Every reaper is different in physical form,” Reyes said. “And most never fully come
into their powers.”

I turned back to him, so thirsty for information, I was not above begging. “What do
you mean? How many of us are there?”

“Not as many as you might think.”

The room had grown even darker, so I reached over and turned on a lamp. It helped,
but Reyes still sat in shadows.

I eased back into the chair and waited as he took another drink from the bottle and
I realized then that he was still bleeding. Dark spots were seeping through the T-shirt.
I tried to tamp down my alarm.

“You’re not really called reapers on the other planes,” he said, placing the bottle
carefully back on the table. “That’s a human reference.”

“Wait, other planes? How many planes are there?” I asked, surprised by his word choice.

“How many galaxies are there in the universe? How many stars? It’s hard to know exactly.
Suffice it to say, many.”

“I—I had no idea.”

“Not many do. And in answer to your question, there is a new reaper born on this plane
every few hundred years. There’s no set time, really.”

I stilled. “But you told me before, you’d been waiting for me. That every time a new
reaper was sent, you were disappointed because it wasn’t me. How long have you been
here?”

He frowned in thought. “I’m not sure exactly. Maybe fifteen centuries.”

Stunned, I asked, “What the heck were you doing all that time?”

He studied me. “Waiting.”

For me. That Englishman said he’d been sent for me. Was he telling me the truth? Did
Reyes’s father send him for me specifically?

“So a new reaper is born every few hundred years. Are they immortal or something?”

“No. Not their physical bodies. Most don’t live more than a few years, in fact.”

“Why?”

He considered me a minute, then said, “Think about your childhood, Dutch. What it
was like growing up with your abilities.”

Memories flooded my cerebral cortex instantly. My stepmother’s horror. The loss of
good friends once I tried to tell them who I was. What I was. The distractions in
class when departed showed up, which often ended with me going to the principal’s
office.

“Now think about having those abilities in a world teeming with superstition and fear.
Many were killed as children. Of those who weren’t, most became hermits. They were
shunned by their own people, never fully accepted. You are truly the first of your
kind who has thrived among them.”

I didn’t know what to say. “What happens when we die?”

“You have to understand, your body is the anchor for the portal. It’s the part that
got you onto this plane.”

“But if my body is gone, what happens? Will I still be the portal?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “You were a portal long before you ever took human form.”

“So, if—when I die, I’ll still be the grim reaper?”

“Once your body ceases to exist, you become powerful a hundred times over, but you’ll
also change. You won’t have that human connection, and every reaper changes over time.
They lose their sense of humanity, though some didn’t have that much to lose in the
first place. Humans were not kind to them.”

“If that’s the case, why did you try to let your body die?”

He leaned his head to the side. “Back to that?” When I shrugged, he said, “Because
it was the draw, Dutch. The bait they could have hooked you with. And they succeeded,
in case you’ve forgotten.”

“But they could’ve taken you. Once your corporeal body passed, they could’ve taken
you, right?”

His mouth curved knowingly. “They would’ve had to catch me first.”

“The Englishman made it sound like it would be easy to track you down, because of
your tattoos, the key.”

“The Englishman?”

“Hedeshi. He’s in the body of an Englishman.”

“Ah. Well, there are ways around that as well.”

Certain he wouldn’t tell me what those ways were, I kept on track. I was actually
getting somewhere for the first time in forever.

I shifted in my chair, leaned forward in enthusiasm. “Okay, so, if I’ll become that
much more powerful, what am I capable of while still alive?”

“I wish I knew. It’s hard to know for certain. Like I said, most of your kind don’t
live long.”

“But you’ve told me repeatedly I’m capable of more.”

“And you are. That doesn’t mean I know exactly what.”

I decided to reword my question. “I’ve been told twice now that I am capable of anything
I can imagine.”

“That’s true.”

Well, this wasn’t frustrating at all. “I can imagine a lot,” I said, challenging him.
“So, can I shoot fireballs from my hands, because I can totally see myself doing that.”

The look he offered me was full of both humor and affection. “No.”

“Then I’ve been lied to.” I copied him and tossed a foot onto the table. Denise would
be horrified.

“Who told you this?” he asked.

“The Englishman, for one, and Sister Mary Elizabeth, for another.”

“And she lies to you often?”

“No,” I said, frowning defensively.

“She did not say you could do anything you can imagine. She said you are capable of
anything you can imagine. Not the act, Dutch, but the consequence.”

“I don’t understand the difference,” I said, feeling thick.

“Think about it. If you could shoot balls of fire from your hands,” he said, pausing
to laugh, “what would happen?”

I looked away from him in disgust. “I don’t know. I could make a car explode, maybe.”

“Then
that
is what you are capable of. The consequence, Dutch. The result.”

His meaning started to take root in my mind, muddled as it was. “So, if I wanted to
blow up a car, I could do it, I just couldn’t do it throwing fireballs from my hands.”
I squinted, tried to get a firm grip on his meaning, lost it, clawed to get it back,
let it slip, gave up with a heave of resignation. “Nope, I don’t get it. But the bottom
line is, if I can imagine it, I can do it, right? So, I can kill people with my mind?”

“If you believe you could live with yourself afterwards, sure.”

“That’s a good point. Can you kill people with your mind?”

A soft grin spread across his face. “Only if my mind tells my hands to carry out its
orders.”

The smile that I felt widen had to look as diabolical as I felt. “So, I can do more
than you can?”

“You always could.”

I hadn’t gotten this many answers from Reyes in, well, never. I decided to tease him
a bit. “You still owe me a million dollars.”

“Take off your clothes.”

“No.”

“I’ll give you a million dollars to take off your clothes.”

“Okay.” I lifted my sweater, then paused. Pulling it back down, I said, “I thought
you didn’t have any money.”

“I don’t. But you can still take that off.”

“I have more questions,” I said, ignoring him.

“I’d have more answers if you’d take that off.”

I got the feeling the only reason he wasn’t closer to me, running his fingers up this
sweater himself, was because of his injuries. They must be really bad. “I have to
tell you about Garrett.”

“I’m breathless with anticipation.”

“He went to hell.” When Reyes didn’t comment, I said, “He met your dad.”

He turned the bottle on the table until he could read the label. “Dad doesn’t usually
entertain visitors.”

“He made an exception. He showed Garrett what you were like growing up. Serving in
his army. Rising through the ranks. He said your father showed him what you did.”

“My father showed him all this? The greatest liar the universe has ever known?”

“Are you saying what he saw wasn’t true? It didn’t really happen?”

After a thoughtful pause, he said, “I was a general in hell, Dutch. What do you suppose
that entailed?”

I dropped my gaze to the matted carpet. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“So you can hate me even more?”

I looked up in surprise. “I don’t hate you.”

His jaw flexed in reaction. “There is a fine line between love and hate, or haven’t
you heard? Sometimes it’s hard to decipher exactly which emotion is strongest.”

I raised my chin. “I don’t love you either.”

He lowered his head and watched me from underneath his dark lashes. “Are you certain?
Because the emotion pouring out of you every time I’m near you is certainly not disinterest.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s love.”

“It could be, I promise you. Take off that sweater and give me ten minutes, and you’ll
believe beyond a shadow of a doubt you’re in love.”

13

Drink coffee!

Do stupid things faster and with more energy.

—T-SHIRT

After several rounds of why I should and should not take off my sweater, I decided
to give it a rest. Literally. I lay down on the bed only to discover it was straight
out of an episode of
The Flintstones.
Rock-hard mattress. Rough, scratchy bedspread. Lumps where dinosaurs apparently slept.
But I was tired and Reyes didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere for once in
his life.

I watched as he walked around the table to join me, his movements forced, painstakingly
cautious as he tried to walk with as little agony as possible. I had never seen him
in so much pain. His T-shirt had several large circles of blood and several smaller
blotches. I didn’t bother offering to take him to urgent care. He wouldn’t have gone
if I’d put Margaret to his head and insisted.

“Don’t even think this means I’m taking off my sweater,” I said.

He chuckled and lay next to me. The bed dipped minutely under his weight, and he exhaled
loudly when he finally managed to settle in. I turned toward him. He lay on his back
with an arm thrown over his forehead, the position both charming and sexy at the same
time. His profile was that of a Greek god. Perfect dimensions. Exquisite lines.

“This bed is really hard,” I said, boxing my pillow and wiggling for a more comfortable
position, which was not easy with Margaret hogging the bed.

“You should straddle me. I’m harder.”

My eyes flew open and I almost looked before I caught myself. I would not be baited.
And he was injured, for heaven’s sake. “So, next question. Why do you call me Dutch?”

He grinned from under his arm. “I don’t.”

I frowned at him, not that it did any good. “You call me Dutch all the time. You’ve
always called me Dutch.”

“You know, for someone who knows every language ever spoken on the planet, you’re
not very good at siphoning meaning when you need to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it.”

“Fine.” I thought about it. I rolled the word over in my mind and on my tongue until
his meaning became clear. I gazed at him in astonishment. “Seeker. You’re saying ‘seeker’
in ancient Aramaic.” The word only sounded like
Dutch
because I’d always associated it as so. It actually had more of a
ts
sound than a
ch,
and the
u
was smoother, more drawn out.

“Bravo.”

“You’ve been calling me ‘seeker’ all this time?”

“It is what you are. The seeker of souls.”

“Wow.” For some reason, that knowledge made me happy inside. Like a mocha latte would
have if I could’ve afforded one. I was learning so much, I didn’t want it to end.
And him being too injured to storm off in his manly way and go on a quest to slay
the Englishman was awesome. More time with
moi.

“I like that,” I said.

“Your elders chose well from within your race.”

I smiled. Then blinked. Then frowned. “My race? I have a race?”

“Of course.”

“So, wait. For real? Do I have a family like you? One from another plane?”

“Yes.”

My head snapped up. I hardly expected a straight answer, much less an affirmation.
“Really? I have another family?”

“Yes.”

This was boggling. I didn’t know what to think.

“I don’t know that much about them, so don’t strain too much.”

“Are they … are they grim reapers?”

“Only the one who is chosen to cross onto this plane is a seeker. You come from a
race of very powerful light bearers. They would never have sent you normally. A seeker
of your … standing isn’t sent to do such menial tasks. But you were the youngest and
the most powerful among them, and they knew I was here.”