Touch If You Dare (31 page)

“Three billion?” Damien pulled out his checkbook. “That’s a bargain.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You have three billion dollars at your disposal?”

“Of course.” Damien’s pen flew over the paper as he filled out the check without hesitation. “We got the church in a deal with the Vatican.”

“So?”

“So, how much money does the Catholic church have?” Damien ripped out the check. “They share well when threatened with vampires on their holy turf.” He winked at her. “We might not believe in ripping the throats out of dainty young maidens without provocation, but we’ve got no problem taking money from an organization who tries to convince the world that we belong in hell.” He set the paper in her hand. “My boss is going to love this idea,” he said. “How is this going to work?”

Reina took the check, turning it over in her hand, as if unable to believe it could be that easy to solve her problems. “We’ve rented out Foxboro Stadium Friday night. How many seats do you want?”

“Three boxes for the royalty, and then maybe a couple thousand for the others.”

“Done.” She tucked the check in her pocket. “It’s been lovely doing business with you, and I appreciate the opportunity to reap on your behalf.”

Damien grinned. “I must say that I’m really pumped to see the Guardian of Love at work. It’s really a monumental moment for all of humankind. I’m impressed as hell with the idea.”

Jarvis felt his good humor disappear. “It is top secret,” he said. “No one can know Love is involved, or you forfeit your money.”

Damien swore. “Then I need to retrieve Sylvan. He’ll share that information freely.” He glided for the door, and then turned. “But if Rocco isn’t on the hate parade by the time I get back, I’m stopping payment. Take care of him, Lord Hate.”

The door slammed shut before Jarvis could reply. “Fuck that—”

Reina caught his arm. “Don’t you get it? Rocco has given up hope. Hate gives him something to live for—”

“Then he’s better off with a visit from Cam.” He grabbed her hand and laid it over his heart. “Can’t you feel that? It’s black in there, sweetheart, and it’s a hell of a way to live.”

She splayed her hand on his chest. “Rocco can’t get to love from where he is. Give him hate. Not enough to kill her. Enough to give him a reason to live.”

He pulled her hand off. “I’m
hell
, Reina. You don’t understand how bad that is because you can’t feel it. I’m an insidious poison and—”

“Stop it!” She shoved at him. “Stop talking about yourself like that. You
guard
hate. That doesn’t mean you
are
hate. Give Rocco a jump start, and you’ll see that there are times when a little negative emotion is a good thing, even if it’s not where you ultimately want to end up. You said yourself that hate can be transmuted into love, but apathy and depression can’t get translated into anything!”

He wanted her words to be true. To believe he was some great balance in the universe, that this shit inside him wasn’t wrecking him. That an explosion that would decimate the emotional well-being of the world wasn’t ticking away inside him.

But that would be denial, and there was no time for that. Denial didn’t change the truth.

Only action would.

Rocco coughed, and he looked over at the boy. At his pale features, at the hopelessness on his face. The kid looked like shit.

“He’s dying because of love,” Reina said softly. “Give him some hate and a reason to live.”

“It’s not a reason.” He shoved his sword into his scabbard, pissed as hell that he couldn’t help this kid. He hated leaving Rocco like that, but he wasn’t going to inflict himself on anyone, despite Reina’s delusion that he simply wasn’t that bad. “Let’s go find Augustus. Part One finished. Part Two, and we’ll have this festival in line.”

“No!” She folded her arms over her chest. “I will not leave him here to die when you can save him. For God’s sake, Jarvis! I’d have given anything to have the ability to save those I love from death, and you could do it right now. How dare you walk away from that? How dare you reject that gift?”

“Gift? You think it’s a fucking gift? Fine. You want a gift. I’ll give you a gift.” He stalked across the room, grabbed Rocco, and swung the kid over his shoulder. “I’ll have Nigel bring him to the festival on Friday night. Once I find my brother and knock some damn sense into his brainwashed head, I’ll have him infuse Rocco with some warm and snuggly feelings so he can feel better. Happy now?” Hell, that was actually a brilliant idea. So much better than leaving this poor love-struck sod to disintegrate into the mattress.

Reina made a sound of exasperation. “He needs
you
, not your ego-maniac brother who suffers from such delusions of grandeur that he thinks he can save the world by killing it.”

He yanked the door open. “Don’t malign my brother.”

“He’s the one who should be maligned, not you.”

Jarvis whirled around and stalked back to Reina. She lifted her chin as he neared. “Don’t diss him.” If love wasn’t worth admiring, then what the hell was he?

“Protecting your brother is not what gives you value,” she snapped. “And quite frankly, I’m getting a little tired of you being so melodramatic about what a bad guy you are.”

“Are you deluded, woman? I’m
Hate
.”

She rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, I can’t reach you, you bullheaded cretin.” She snatched her car keys out of his hand and stalked out the door.

He scowled as he shifted Rocco and headed after her. It was time she stopped arguing and accepted what he was, and what he wasn’t. He might not like it, but at least he accepted it.

He stepped out into the hall and saw the roomful of vampires salivating at the sight of Reina stomping her way through their midst, muttering about obstinate and asinine warriors.

“Dude,” a younger vampire muttered. “If I was going to break my vows, that chick is the one I’d do it for—”

Jarvis whipped out his sword and had the tip of the turbulent, purple blade at the kid’s throat before the youth could finish his thought.

The boy’s eyes widened, and his friend grabbed his arm. “Dude,” he whispered. “That’s the Guardian of Hate. He’ll blow your vows for good—”

The kid’s eyes flared red, and Jarvis swore as the room filled with the sound of popping corn. He turned to see fangs popping free left and right. Eyes turning red, and they were all fixated on Reina. “Yeah, welcome to my world, Reina. I’m like sunshine every time I walk in the door.”

She looked around, and he saw the sudden tension in her shoulders. She slowed her walk, easing slowly toward the door, clearly trying not to make any quick moves.

Jarvis had no such qualms. He broke into a run and sprinted for her. Caught her around the waist a split second before a roomful of vamps pounced like kitties on a catnip mouse. He swept her out of the way, put his sword into action, and headed for the door.

Reina held on tightly as he fought to get them out.

“Nice effect I have them, eh?” He couldn’t keep the smugness out of his voice. “Still think I’m a gift?”

But when he saw her sadness, he didn’t feel quite as smug anymore.

Which just pissed him off even more.

Which was good, because being a little insanely violent helped him take down another five vamps.

Which was bad, because as God was his witness, he was damn tired of feeling pissed off and insane.

Maybe he’d offer himself up as Cam’s first victim. As long as he was going to go, wouldn’t it be better to experience a moment, just one freaking moment, of love before he died, instead of going out in an explosion of all the blackest parts of his soul?

He dismissed the notion before he’d even finished the thought. What kind of crap was that? He’d fought off death for a hundred and fifty years. He sure as hell wasn’t going to offer himself up to it now. He was hanging on for as long as he could.

He sprinted to the car, threw his cargo inside, and gunned the engine, hitting the road as the gang of vamps spewed out into the dusk. He glanced in the backseat and saw Reina holding Rocco’s head in her lap, her face full of love and concern. Hellfire and damnation, what he’d give for one moment in that light.

“We can’t go after Augustus yet,” Reina said.

He peeled around the corner toward his place. He should have known she wouldn’t be able to pull through. “Hey, babe, I know you don’t want to—”

“No. My sickle was destroyed.” She patted Rocco’s head and then climbed back through the seats. In an automatic move, almost unconscious, she plucked his hand off the gearshift and held it between her palms.

His tension eased. Just a bit. He wanted to haul her onto his lap and breathe her in, but there was no time. He’d never craved anything the way he craved Reina’s touch. It felt good, but at the same time, it was unfathomable torture to have her that close and not be able to take her. “So, we get another sickle from your boss.” Excellent. It would give him a chance to check out the property for his brother.

“No.” Reina traced the lines on his palm. “He won’t give me another one. He put me on leave, remember? I need to get one from someone else.”

“Where else are you going to get a sickle designed for harvesting souls? Death’s got corner on that market—” Then he realized what she was saying. “You want to hit up the original Grim Reaper?”

“He must have spare ones lying around that will work for me.” She massaged his palm with her knuckles, as if she could dig out the hell that stalked him. “Death has to send him pictures and a snail mail letter on the first of every month to show he is adhering to the terms of their agreement.” She held up her phone, showing a contact page for the Grim Reaper. “I write the letters, so I have his address. He doesn’t live far from here.”

Jarvis whistled under his breath. “I’ve heard he’s a crazy bastard. He’d kill you in a minute.”

“I know.” She turned off her phone and put it away. “It’s the only way.”

“I’m going with you.” No way was he letting her face the Reap unprotected.

She smiled at him, relief evident in the way she squeezed his hand. “Thanks.”

Thanks.
Thanks?
That word made him want to be the man he’d never be. A man who actually deserved a smile and a nod of appreciation. Not the man who was going to rain all over the parade of every living being in existence. “Then let’s do it.”

“I don’t want to wait until Friday.” The Guardian of Love sashayed into Death’s office, clasping his new twenty-four-carat bow under his arm, and wearing nothing but a quiver of arrows. Cameron’s body was pale, as if he hadn’t been exposed to sunlight in a couple centuries, he had a sizeable paunch, and his endowment needed a serious infusion of testosterone.

He’d also had his hair highlighted a brassy gold and invested in extensions, so his tresses floated down his back. The kid had clearly not used Death’s high-class in-house services for his makeover. He was perverted, cheesy, road trash all the way.

This wasn’t the man who people would want to be their last experience in this physical world, let alone invest vast sums of money in. “Where are your clothes, for God’s sake?” Death demanded.

Cameron leapt up onto a red velvet chair, set his foot on Death’s desk, and tossed his head so the bleached out straw masquerading as hair cascaded down his back. He fished an arrow out of the quiver, fixed it into the bow, and then took aim at the smoke detector in the corner of Death’s office. He didn’t fire; he just held the pose. “How do I look? Dead ringer for all the ancient paintings of me, aren’t I?”

“Those paintings are of a cute little cherub. Once you hit age six, the naked thing can get you arrested.” With Cam’s foot up on the desk, it put his dangly bits way too close to front and center. “For God’s sake, boy, cover yourself up.”

Death shoved his chair back and tossed one of the dishtowels from his espresso corner at the Guardian. It landed right on its target, but Cameron wasn’t perky enough, and after a moment, it dropped uselessly to the desk, right on top of the monogrammed pen set Angelica had given Death on his first day of business. He treasured those pens so much he’d never even used them. And now…

Sigh.

Cameron laughed, a loud bellow of mocking humor. “You need me, old man, so you must let me do as I wish.” He sank down in the velvet chair, his naked ass wedged into the cushions that Death had had specially imported from a secluded gnome monastery in upper Mongolia. Shit. He really loved those cushions.

Cameron tucked one foot under him, pulled his left knee up, and rested his chin on it. He was wearing the most idyllic expression of peace Death had ever seen. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this,” Cameron sighed dreamily. “I’d lost my meaning in life. But you’ve brought me back.”

Death saw the lack of turbulence in his blue eyes. And better yet, there was a spark of energy, of fire. “I’m glad to hear it, my boy. You had me worried.”

“I know.” Cameron began to twirl his bow like a baton. “I haven’t wanted to be naked in almost a hundred years. It feels great to feel the wind over my skin.”