Unreap My Heart (The Reaper Series) (37 page)

“That’s not what I want to hear, Ari.”

Dropping her gaze, Arianne nodded. “Yes. I need your help pulling out the dagger in Death’s chest.”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “You should have said so.”

Arianne’s jaw dropped. “I thought that’s what I just said?”

“Ari, if you asked me to help you I would have.”

“What?”

“Redeemers are sworn to help when asked,” Balthazar grumbled like the information annoyed him. “But Zakariel wouldn’t have let you go.”

“I could have convinced him to let me go.” Carrie fearlessly thumped Balthazar’s chest. “I can be very persuasive. Now you have half of Haven after you.”

At the same time, all three of them looked over their shoulders. In the distance, a cloud of white neared.

“I didn’t think the Underverse had white clouds,” Arianne said.

“It doesn’t.” Balthazar’s lips disappeared into a thin line. He faced forward again. “Hold on.”

Arianne’s reply died when her stomach jumped into her throat. They plummeted at breakneck speed. Going up she didn’t mind. Going down from this height, on the other hand, she hated like broccoli. In true Carrie fashion, her sister raised both her arms and screamed in delight, like they were riding a roller coaster.

The Nightmare Steed landed in a swirl of dirt and dust. Balthazar reached behind him and grabbed a fistful of Arianne’s shirt from behind. In a swift tug, he lifted Arianne off the horse and plopped her on her feet. Balthazar quickly followed. Carrie reached out to him and he pulled her off the horse too. Arianne gritted her teeth at Balthazar’s gentleness toward her sister. Why couldn’t he treat her more like that?

Balthazar manifested his scythe and twirled it like a baton before he ripped an opening through the Crossroads barrier. Without speaking, he grabbed Arianne again and manhandled her into the hole he’d made. Carrie followed without having to be pushed in.

“Hey!” Arianne lost it. “Quit the physical abuse.”

“I’ll hold them off,” Balthazar said to someone behind Arianne. “Get them to D’s office. Then bring the Redeemer back here.”

As soon as Arianne whirled around to see who Balthazar was barking at, Tomas touched her shoulder and the scenery changed. Her vision tripled when they arrived at Death’s office. She didn’t have time to worry about Balthazar facing down an army of angels and one pissed off Heavenly Host.

Her shoes stuck to the ground when she tried to move. She looked down and made out something dark. Her gaze followed the spot and quickly realized she stood in the pool of blood coming from Death. She gasped. If she thought Death couldn’t look any worse than he did before they’d left, she’d been so wrong.

The once androgynous being who had oozed power had been reduced to skin and bone. His golden hair hung limp and white, clinging to his sunken cheeks and sweaty forehead. His skin rivaled the gray of the Underverse sky. His once alive robe only twitched on the floor around him, soaking in his blood. The room had a sickly sweet smell. It choked Arianne every time she breathed in.

“What…” he rasped out.

“Don’t speak, Master,” Tomas said—the weight of worry on every word. “Arianne has returned with the Redeemer.”

Like staring at a wreck, Arianne couldn’t take her eyes away from Death. Carrie moved forward, uncaring if her white gown soaked up the blood on the floor. She wrapped her hand around the hilt of the dagger. With one quick tug and a sickening squelch, the blade slid out of Death’s chest.

Death inhaled as if for the first time. His frail shoulders rose in relief before a blinding light engulfed him as if he were on fire. Tomas grabbed Arianne’s arm and pulled her and Carrie out of the office. The double doors shut after them with a loud bang.

“Is he gonna be all right?” Arianne asked, never taking her eyes off the doors. In her head she could still see Death at the brink of death—or something really close to it since Death couldn’t really die. Not in the human sense.

“He’ll be fine now.” Tomas sounded as relieved as Death’s gasp had sounded.

Carrie called her name, and Arianne turned to face her sister. The blade she held in her hand glowed red. She let it go, and it hovered in the air in front of her. Before Arianne could ask about the blade, Tomas touched her shoulder again and she found herself back in the room she’d woken up in the first time, Carrie right by her side.

“You really have to warn me before you do that teleporting thing, Tomas.” Arianne clutched at her stomach, ready to puke.

“Your thread has been cut,” Tomas said in response.

Arianne’s already queasy stomach flipped like a pancake. “You said you could fix it.”

“Not me.” The worry in Tomas’s wise old eyes worried Arianne tenfold.

“Death,” Carrie said.

Unable to speak, Arianne faced her sister. She’d begun to tremble, and breathing got really hard all of a sudden.

“Only Death can fix this,” Carrie finished for the benefit of Arianne’s speechless state.

Again Arianne found herself painted into a corner. She could see it now. If Death really was the only one who could reattach her thread to her body—or whatever he had to do—another bargain would have to be struck. Ben had sacrificed his life to save hers. She’d sacrificed her life to save Niko’s. What more could she give? Had Death played her this whole time? Could he have known Carrie was the Redeemer? Arianne fell to her knees when the realization struck her like a physical blow. A chill ran down her spine.

She hugged herself. “In the Underverse, nothing is free.”

Chapter 41

BIO

O
UTSIDE
T
HE
C
ROSSROADS
, just beyond the barrier, ten angels surrounded Balthazar in a loose circle. He flicked his gaze at each one of the faces he could see and used his sixth sense to keep tabs on the ones he couldn’t see behind him. He’d sent away the Nightmare Steed so it wouldn’t get in the way of his scythe. He’d hate to accidentally kill another one.

No one moved except for Balthazar who was spinning his scythe. The air the rotation kicked up ruffled the feathers of the angels nearest the scythe. Zakariel stood at a distance, his arms folded. More angels gathered behind him. The wing Balthazar had lopped off had healed like he’d told the sisters. He grinned at the twitching wing. The new feathers growing in must itch, and Zakariel—with his pride as Heavenly Host—refused to scratch.

“Itchy?” Balthazar asked. He’d dug his grave already. A few more feet wouldn’t matter much. “Bitch to be you right now.”

“You cut off my wing,” Zakariel said, enunciating each word like they tasted bad in his mouth. “I should have let your mother kill you when she had a chance.”

“Wow, that’s the best you can do?” Balthazar’s smile reached his eyes. He’d laugh if it wouldn’t distract him from the horde of angels waiting for their leader’s attack signal. He couldn’t let his guard down, not until Tomas returned with Carrie in tow. “I get it, my mother hated me. At least she had the decency not to sleep with a prick like you.”

Zakariel’s nostrils flared. “If it wasn’t an insult to your mother, I’d call you a son of a bitch.”

“Ah, but you just did.”

A pinch of pride at chopping off Zakariel’s wing made getting beaten to a pulp by a bunch of winged pansies worth the bruises. He’d always wanted to catch the Heavenly Host by surprise, and now that he had, he didn’t care what they did to him. The angels couldn’t kill him. They could try, and it would hurt when they did, but the only one who stood a real chance at ending him itched like a madman a few yards away. Maybe a laugh wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Come on, Zakariel. I was just doing what I had to. A bargain is a bargain.” Balthazar planted his scythe on the ground by his side and shrugged dramatically, adding a head tilt too. “I needed the Redeemer. You wouldn’t have let her leave Haven, so I took matters into my own hands. Basically, nothing you wouldn’t do.”

“I wouldn’t hurt someone to get what I want.”

“That’s the difference between you and me.” He folded his arms, puffing out his chest. “Bad guy, remember?”

“You cannot just take the Redeemer from Haven, Balthazar. There are consequences.”

“From the looks of your goon squad, I see that. But if you wait a little longer, I’m pretty sure she’s done pulling my mother’s blade from D’s chest. Then we can move on and no one has to die.” He eyed the closest angel and showed fang. The angel stood firm, but Balthazar couldn’t mistake the slight wing tremble.

Zakariel dropped his arms. “Brianne’s Bitterness?”

Not the reaction Balthazar expected. He hid his own surprise with a smirk. His mother, still a monumental headache from beyond the grave. What had she done now to deserve utter shock from Zakariel?

“The one and only. My mother—” Balthazar shook his head “—always made the most annoying things. She even made a blade that could kill me. Can you imagine that?”

The Heavenly Host pointed at him. “Don’t speak of her that way.”

Oh
, Balthazar was scared now. He rolled his eyes. The big bad angel threated him by pointing. “Come on, Zakariel. This doesn’t have to get bloody. Tomas will return Carrie soon. If you just wait—”

“You forget what pulling out Brianne’s Bitterness means for the one who does the act, you bastard. You just condemned the Redeemer.”

This caught Balthazar off guard. He never knew of any consequences involved in the removal of the blade. Yes, only the Redeemer could handle the blade. He assumed this because his mother was a Heavenly Host and had a penchant for all things heavenly—well, except for his father. Balthazar almost spat at the thought, but he swallowed his ire and continued his conversation with Zakariel. The more time he bought, the less likely it was he’d have to fight off the angels. He had to conserve his energy for his showdown with D. The Crossroads would be his soon. Just a little more patience.

“Then tell me what I’m missing,” Balthazar said nonchalantly.

A self-satisfied smile spread across Zakariel’s face. “Finally, something I know about your mother that you don’t.”

“What are you? The encyclopedia of all things involving my mother? You need a hobby.” Balthazar bit the inside of his lip. “Spit it out, you dick.”

The sobering of the Heavenly Host bothered Balthazar more than it should have. The gray clouds above them grew darker. In the distance lightning still reverberated from Solara’s anger. Balthazar had a lot of thinking to do when it came to pissing off powerful chicks. But in seconds, what he thought didn’t matter. Zakariel might as well have stabbed him with his next words.

“The one who removes the blade stands as replacement.”

“Replacement?” Balthazar asked, the word not making sense in his head right away.

Zakariel cocked his head along with an eyebrow as if accusing Balthazar of being slow. He spread his wings then folded them back in place. “Oh, I think you know what I mean.”

“Son of a bitch!” Balthazar didn’t know if he should be pissed or delighted. He went for pissed instead. It seemed like the right emotion to have. “You mean to tell me the Redeemer is the new Death?”

“Until you find the original Death, the Redeemer stands as the replacement.”

“I call your bluff.”

The Heavenly Host merely shrugged at him. “Why don’t you go see for yourself? We’ll wait out here.”

Balthazar had heard enough. He picked up his scythe and slashed at the angels. Most of them managed to avoid the blow except for the last one who didn’t quite time his jump right. The black blade sliced cleanly through the angel’s legs from the knees. The screaming distracted the rest enough for Balthazar to run up to the barrier, cut his way in, and sprint toward the Crossroads. Dust swirled in his wake.

Carrie the new Death? It’s not fucking possible.

As soon as the thought entered Balthazar’s mind, he knew the “not possible” part was a lie. His stomach dropped. No wonder Zakariel hadn’t attacked him himself. The bastard of a Heavenly Host had been waiting for the inevitable. Balthazar—the con of all con artists—had been royally conned. All this time he’d been played by D.

Balthazar refused to panic. He’d make it in time and this would be settled one way or the other. If he had to slice down the Redeemer to get what he wanted, he had no problem with that. He’d take over the Crossroads, and Zakariel would have to return to Haven Redeemer-light. Then Arianne’s face flashed before Balthazar’s eyes. In his fit of rage, he’d forgotten about the chit. She wouldn’t stand for Carrie’s death—again. Then he’d just have to go over her dead body. Balthazar pushed the option away as soon as it entered his head. His bargain with her prevented him from inflicting bodily harm—and how was he to protect her from himself? Damn it!

Fury bubbled up his throat by the time he’d made it to the wall. He barely saw straight from it. One leap later, he landed in the calm courtyard. Where chaos once reigned, now only order remained. Shadow Guards—those not at their posts—surrounded him. Balthazar licked his chops and cut his way through the swath of them. They stood no chance against him. The minions moved out of his way. They only attacked if their master Reapers asked them to, and right now, the Reapers were too stunned to order anyone to do anything. They’d finally made it into the Crossroads. The lockdown had ended. Which meant they didn’t know the whole story. Balthazar took advantage of their ignorance. The less resistance he went up against the better.