Touch If You Dare (40 page)

A small, purple rock remained behind, stuck to the tip of Jarvis’s sword. It was glowing and misshapen, like volcanic rock that had escaped a bad science experiment.

“Oh, God,” she whispered in horror. “Look at you.”

Jarvis was encased in flames. He was a blackened ghoul, a haunted demon. He was covered in the shadows that had been stalking him, glommed on to him like paper-mache. He held up his hand to her, palm up, an entreaty, silent begging for help. She didn’t hesitate. She ran for him, was almost to him, and then he exploded.

Reina watched in horror as purple rocks began to rain from the sky. Thousands of fragments like the one that had been at the end of Jarvis’s sword. Littering the earth. Lodged in awnings. Busted through car windows.

One rolled to a stop right in front of Reina and she laid her hand over it. Searing hot. She picked it up, closed her eyes, and sent all the love in her soul into it. “I know you’re in there,” she whispered. “Please come back. Come back for me. I love you.”

The minute the words were out, she knew it was true. Knew that she’d fallen. Of course she had. How could she not? He was a man of such courage, who had held himself together against all odds for so long, a man who had stood by her even at cost to himself.

Rescuing her had been stupid of him to do. Of course it would have sent him over the edge. He’d known that, hadn’t he? And he’d done it anyway, so she could live.

This was a man who claimed not to be able to feel anything but hate? Hello? Could he be more wrong? She held the rock to her chest, and she felt her skin sizzling. “I’m not giving up on you,” she said. “Come back to me. Now!”

“For hell’s sake, woman, drop it!” The Reap ripped the stone out of her grasp and flung it across the street. It clunked to a stop against the curb. “Look at your hands.”

She saw she’d burned nearly all her skin off. She hadn’t made that rock cool off. It had been utterly resistant to her love.
Jarvis was truly gone.
“Oh, dear God.” She gripped her chest, assaulted with a sudden emptiness, a numbness, and a raw, eviscerating horror.

“Mourn him, my dear.” The Reap dropped her scythe on the sidewalk in front of her. “Death is a horrible, awful fate, and he’s writhing in agony right now—”

“Shut up!” She grabbed the scythe and swung it at his head. “Don’t play that crap on me! I know it’s not true. He’s in a happy place—”

“He’s Hate, my dear. It’s different for him.” The Reap blocked her blow with ease. “He really is suffering. If you listen closely, he may still be close enough to the physical world for you to hear his screams. And by the way, you do look like hell when you’re reaping. Very tortured. See you inside, death girl!”

He turned and loped across the street and into Fenway Park, his cape billowing behind him. “I imagine his skin is being ripped from his body right now,” he called out as he disappeared inside. “Pain, pain, pain—”

“Go away!” The scythe slipped from her fingers and Reina sank to the street, pressing her face in her hands, unable to stop the flood of loneliness. Of agony. The hollowness of her chest. She knew the grief and shock was coming. Been here before. Again and again, and again. And now, again.

But this was worse. The world was spinning away from her, grief hammering at her from all sides. She could see the anguish on her mom’s face when she’d taken her daughter’s hand and told her good-bye, because she wouldn’t be sane enough to say it when she actually died. She could smell the acridness of the blood oozing onto the wooden floor as her sisters lay bleeding from that initial attack. The wail of the sirens as the ambulances cut through the night, too late, too late. The utter silence of the house after her family had been taken away, leaving her behind, all alone. The oppressiveness of those walls, the furniture, so full of love, now empty.

It was alive again, closing in on her. Suffocating her.

It hurt too much. She couldn’t go through it again. Couldn’t survive it. Sobs racked her body, and she hunched over, holding her stomach.

A loud horn screeched, and someone yelled. She covered her ears, trying to shut it out, but then more wails ripped through the night. People shouting. Fists thwacking flesh. “Everyone shut up!” But the intrusions continued assaulting her. People were arguing up and down the street. Cabs honking at one another. A woman in an evening gown was in a fistfight with a homeless man. So much anger. So much fury.

So much hate.

Oh,
no.
Jarvis’s pebbly remains were poisoning the world, exactly as he’d predicted. His own worst nightmare. He’d fought so hard to protect others, and he’d failed. So close, he’d been so close, and he’d failed because he’d sacrificed himself and the world for her.

She was the one who’d let him down. She’d forced him to help her instead of going after his brother. She’d been so consumed by the potential loss of her own sister that she’d failed to appreciate his own struggle, his own goals, the man he was.

He’d known his fate, he’d faced it, and he’d accepted it. A man who’d had only fifty years of life, but stretched it to a hundred and fifty. He’d given it everything he had, and he’d taken the hit at the end so he could save her life. Jarvis had lived his whole life with passion instead of hiding from it, like she had.

A scream echoed through the night that Reina recognized instantly as her sister.
Natalie.
Reina whirled toward Fenway Park. Her own misery had kept her from being there for Jarvis, and now she was going to miss her chance with Natalie, too? Screw that.

She could fight with courage, too, just like he had. He’d faced his last moments with determination, using his last efforts to save her. Was she really going to dishonor his choice by curling up into a ball of misery, instead of taking action and making the best of whatever she could do?

What had living in fear gotten her? More loss. More fear. More failure. Yeah, not working so well to hide, was it? She could keep it up, or she could try to honor the legacy he had left behind. She could fight with all the life she had left in her.

She could be the woman Jarvis had always believed she was, and she knew that’s exactly who she wanted to be. His spirit was with her, by her side, cheering her on, and she wasn’t going to disappoint him. “This is for you, Jarvis.”

She grabbed the scythe and started to run toward the building.
Natalie. I’m coming for you.

But Natalie wasn’t the only one she was coming for.

She was going after Cameron, too. For Jarvis. She was going to win everything for him. For the man she loved.

***

“I can’t believe you finally kicked the bucket.”

Jarvis groaned at Death’s familiar voice, but he was in too much agony to open his eyes. His body felt like it had been shredded and then fed to a bunch of hungry pit vipers. And he knew what that felt like. “Go shave your legs. I’m not dead.”

“Close enough, my friend. You crossed the line.”

Yeah, right. He’d had this conversation with Death more than a hundred times. “Nothing’s changed. I’m not going.” Then he lifted his head and looked around. He wasn’t in the street outside Fenway Park. He wasn’t in the Reap’s limo. He wasn’t in the Den.

He was in a heart-shaped room decorated in more shades of white than Jarvis had thought existed, and he’d aced Color Composition 402 back at the Den. There was a plush white couch, a snowball white wood table with matching chairs, an ice sculpture of two swans necking, and several paintings of what appeared to be snowstorms. Yeah, so not thinking this was Kansas. “I don’t suppose this is the green room at the Testosterone Awards, is it?”

Jarvis!

“Reina!” At the distant sound of her voice, Jarvis shoved himself to his feet, surprised to find that his body felt lighter than it had in centuries, as if he’d ditched a thousand weights. He saw an opening in the whitewashed wall that had a large gold-gilded heart above the archway, and puffs of smoke were billowing out of the doorway. “Reina!” He sprinted for the door, hit the mist, and rebounded onto his ass. “What the hell?”

“I need to cleave your soul first.” Death was sitting on a black bench, the only item of color decorating the room. He was wearing a tux, a red boutonniere, and a gold crown emblazoned with the words
Lifetime Achievement Winner: Testosterone Awards
. “You can’t take the body with you.”

Had the awards started? “I have to get to Cam—”

“Sorry, my man, but the only place you’re going is the pearly gates of heaven.” Death jerked his finger at the cotton candy cloud emanating from the heart-shaped doorway. “It’s the service entrance. More efficient to carry souls in that way, so you don’t get bogged down with the red tape and bureaucracy.”

Jarvis stared at the cotton ball parade. “I can’t be dead.” Then he noticed his palm was pristine. No black stains on it. No shadows stalking the walls. This time, the lightness in his body took on new meaning. The hate was gone.

“Oh, you’re dead, and it’s about time.” Death slipped a collapsible scythe out of the sleeve of his tux. “I’ve done your bedside vigil more times than I’ve been laid in the last hundred and fifty years, and I get laid a lot.”

Jarvis!

He whirled around at the sound of Reina’s desperate call, her agony and despair feeding a frenzied need for him to find her. “Reina!”

There was no answer.
Shit.
He fought to remember what had happened, but his mind was blank. “Where is she?”

Death looked severely disappointed. “You don’t remember?” He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. “Come on, man, you gotta know.”

“I was in the car.” Jarvis fought to clear his head. “With Reina and the Reap. And a deedub grabbed her—” He suddenly remembered Reina getting attacked, that hellacious feeling when he’d been sprinting toward them, terrified beyond anything he’d ever felt before, a sheer, raw panic that he’d be too late, too late, too late—

He grabbed Death by the lapels. “Is she okay? Tell me I wasn’t too late!”

Death broke into a huge smile. “That’s my boy! Yes, yes, she’s fine. You capped his ass with great aplomb and timing.”

“Mother fucker.” Jarvis’s knees gave out and he fell to the fluffy white carpet like some pansy. He braced his palms on his thighs, barely able to hold himself erect, the relief was so great. “She’s okay.”

“Well, for now. Augustus is on his way to get her. Can’t imagine she’ll survive that.”

Jarvis jerked his head up. “You set her up to die, didn’t you?”

“Not at all. I thought there was a faint possibility she could bring herself to kill him. Obviously, I overestimated her.” Death’s disdain was apparent, and fresh fury rose in Jarvis.

He stumbled to his feet, lunged at the old man, and slammed his hands around his throat. “Reina Fleming is an amazing, courageous woman, and the fact she can’t kill is a testament to the hugeness of her heart and the love that guides her.” His fingers tightened, and red marks appeared on Death’s neck. “If you had any humanity in your soul, you’d see her for the light she is.”

Death raised his eyebrows, apparently unfazed by the assault. “If she’s so fantastic, why’d you leave her?”

“I didn’t leave her! I died!”

“You gave it up.”

“I gave it up? What is wrong with you people? Hate wins! You can’t stop it—”

“You bore me.” Death sounded disappointed as he unfolded his scythe. “Time to say bye bye, warrior.”

“It’s not permanent yet?” Jarvis grabbed for his sword, found nothing.

“Haven’t you ever heard you can’t take it with you? Includes swords.” Death gripped the scythe, and Jarvis ripped it out of his hands.

He had it at Death’s throat before the beast could move. “I’m better with weapons than you are,” he said. “Send me back.”

“No.” Death waggled his fingers at Jarvis, and black powder shot out of it, knocking Jarvis flat on his back. Immobilizing him like a mummy.

Shit. That’s right. Death had pulled that on him before, hadn’t he? Always smart to forget what your opponent can do. Jarvis tried to summon the hate that had knocked aside the stun gun moment the last time… but he had nothing this time.

“I couldn’t delegate your harvest to one of my Guides. I’m too impressed with you, and I wanted to do it myself. I made them put the awards ceremony on hold just for you. Congratulations, and welcome to my world—”

Jarvis!
Reina’s desperate voice cut through the inertia pinning Jarvis to the floor.

Death swung the scythe and Jarvis rolled to the right, leapt to his feet, ripped a swan ice sculpture off a white marble table, and upended it into Death’s family jewels. “You don’t get to have me.”

“Mother of pearl! How did you break my hold?” Death grabbed for his crotch and went down like a boner at the sight of Angelica. “That’s a brilliant tactic. The only chance you had to take me down.” Then his face turned green and he rolled over, moaning. “But I’m going to kill you when I can move again.”