Unreap My Heart (The Reaper Series) (4 page)

Despite the pain, D chuckled.

“A little warning would have been nice,” Balthazar grunted out. “You’re such a prick sometimes. No, scratch that. You’re a prick all the time.” He got up and stared at D. He had the urge to hit something—mostly D—but he didn’t know what that would do to him, so he settled on pumping his hands to dissipate some of his frustration.

“I would have told you not to enter my mind, but you always loved jumping the gun, didn’t you, Balthazar?”

He hated the way D said his name. It always sounded like he had affection for Balthazar, like a disappointed father would for a child who disobeyed him. The pretentious tone always pissed him off. He suspected D did it for that reason alone.

“Can the ’tude, D. I came here to challenge you for your seat, but it looks like someone beat me to it. Now, tell me who this bastard is so I can hunt him down, make him pay for stealing my chance at kicking your ass, and restore some order here. The whisps get annoying when they don’t have someone ordering them around. Plus, the shadow guards are getting antsy. You know how they are when you’re not in control.”

“I’m surprised you don’t recognize the dagger.” D pointed at the inch of the blade still sticking out of his chest.

Balthazar leaned in and studied the partial inscription. He didn’t need to read the whole thing to know what it said. The script alone showed enough. He straightened and shook his head.

“You really know the best people to piss off, huh?”

D snorted. “Last I heard only you knew the location of this dagger. Did you get chatty during your banishment?”

Balthazar flipped D off. “Unlike some of your pansy ass Reapers, I can keep my trap shut. No matter how much I hate your guts and everything you stand for, I still honor my word. Something you obviously don’t, judging from the dagger sticking out of your chest. I’m surprised whoever stabbed you didn’t go in from behind. You really aren’t going to tell me?”

D shook his head once. “I will take care of the traitor myself. I just need to get the dagger out first.”

“And how do you propose to do that? That’s Brianne’s Bitterness, the only thing in this world that could hold a being as powerful as you down. Worse, whoever stabbed you is currently sucking out your power. Didn’t I tell you pissing off my mother would bite you in the ass one day? I guess dying didn’t stop her from getting her revenge.”

D got really quiet all of a sudden. For a second Balthazar thought he’d died. Impossible since Death couldn’t really
die
. Not in the traditional “dying” sense anyway. If someone wanted D dead, he or she had to challenge him for his seat. Once defeated, which would be a long shot, D would fade away into nothingness, thus transferring his power to the victor. Balthazar knew better than most that it took a lot to defeat Death, and Brianne’s Bitterness, born from the soul of a really powerful Heavenly Host—in this case, his mother—slighted eons ago, didn’t have that kind of power. Using his mother’s dagger meant someone had cheated. The blade merely kept the stabbee in place for the stabber to siphon all the creature’s energy. D wouldn’t die from that. But Death not having any power meant he’d lose control of the Crossroads. If that happened, well…it would make the Nethers look like a theme park. Balthazar didn’t even count that as the worst part.

“If you lose control, the chaos would spill into the human world and the rest of the Underverse,” Balthazar said. “I’m pretty sure that’s going to piss off a whole lot of powerful forces who could bring down a ton of hurt here.”

“We can’t allow that,” D whispered so softly Balthazar had to remind himself he actually heard the words.

“
We?”
He tilted his head. “Where did that ‘we’ come from?”

D shot him a pointed glare. Balthazar had to admit, from D’s seated position while bleeding out, the stare looked pretty intimidating. But not intimidating enough. His eyebrow twitched.

“You seriously think staring me to death will work? I’m not helping you.”

“You said it yourself.” D’s breathing turned labored and really raspy, like he’d been smoking three packs a day for twenty years. “If you want to get a chance to challenge me for my seat, I need to get my house in order. For me to do that I need the dagger out and the traitor dealt with. You see, I would love to beat your ass into the ground again for your impertinence, but I can’t exactly do that with this damn dagger in my chest.”

Balthazar threw back his head and laughed. The sound bounced off the walls. Then he doubled over and hugged himself, the force of his laughter shaking his entire body. Once he managed to pull himself together, he breathed in deeply and wiped away a stray tear from the corner of his eye. He sighed, a huge smile on his face.

“Precious!” He slapped his thigh, another round of chuckles escaping. When he could speak again, he continued. “Are you seriously trying to use my hatred for you and my desire for your position to con me into helping you?”

D gave him a half grin. “Is it working?”

“Damn if it’s not.”

Balthazar slapped D on the shoulder. Before his hand could make contact, the invisible force threw him to the back of the room. He knocked D’s desk over, spilling piles of Death Certificates everywhere. This time, it was D who laughed.

In the rain of parchment with the names of people supposed to die, Balthazar cursed like a sailor. He picked himself up off the ground, suppressing his groan by spitting out the nastiest words he could think of.

“Oh, that one’s new,” D said from his seat. “Where’d you pick up that particularly colorful description of someone’s mother? It’s really creative.”

Balthazar snorted. “Demons know their stuff. Why do you think the possessed have the most colorful vocabulary?” The movie
The Exorcist
hadn’t messed up that part. Demons, especially those trapped in the Nethers, had the foulest language in all the Underverse.

“I take it your stay in the Nethers did you some good?”

“If you think having to survive on a daily basis and having to kill my way through the nastiest things this world we live in could create as having done me some good, then yes. And to that I say, up yours.”

“Put your finger down, Balthazar. There’s no need to be vulgar with me.”

He dropped his hand to his side and frowned. “Do you really believe pissing me off is in your best interest right now?”

“You’re right,” D said.8

“What?” Balthazar cupped his ear and turned it toward D. “Can you say that again? I don’t think I heard you properly.”

“Unlike you—” D sighed “—I’m not afraid to admit when I’m wrong. You’re right. I shouldn’t antagonize you more than I already have. My apologies.”

Damn if that didn’t make Balthazar feel superior. Getting the tough guy to admit he’d been wrong felt better than slicing through a banshee just to get it to shut up. Then he asked the question that had popped up the second D asked for his help.

“What makes you think I’m your guy for this? I could just as easily stab you in the back. Well—” he pointed at the dagger “—not that you don’t already know how that feels.”

D snapped his fingers, and Balthazar’s scythe manifested without Balthazar summoning it. Another thing he hated. Since he’d chosen a scythe, it meant D had some power over it. Balthazar had worked hard for centuries to wean his weapon from D’s influence. It seemed he had more work to do. He slanted his gaze at the scythe and mouthed the word “traitor” at it. The thing quivered.

“You have the Keeper’s Key.”

“What about it?” He didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking.

“You’re the only one who can get in and out of the Crossroads right now.”

“And?”

“You’re taking Arianne with you,” said someone from the entrance to D’s office.

Chapter 4

OMG

T
HE
L
ETTERS
W-H-A-T and a giant question mark danced around in Arianne’s head. What Tomas said distracted her enough from the grisly scene in Death’s office, forcing her to look up at the old Reaper.

“What?” It had to be asked. The word already floated around anyway. “Hold on a sec. What do you mean I’m going with him?” She pointed at the guy standing beside a clearly bleeding-out Death. Like way too much to be a good thing.

Tomas glanced down at Arianne and gave her a smile that said
sorry
and
please
at the same time. “Remember when I said we’ll need your help? Now’s that time.”

His words flew over Arianne’s head. She stood there slack-jawed like she’d been smacked. Sure she’d help out, but to have them pass her off to…to…she looked back at the guy dressed in all black.

Besides his floor-length coat and boots, buckles covered almost every part of him over his leather pants and shirt, jingling when he crossed his arms. Her wondering gaze landed on his face. He looked too young to have that silver hair, and in the right light or when he titled his head like he did just that second, it looked like the strands had white highlights. Not possible. But since she found herself in a place called the Crossroads where they processed the souls of the dead, nothing seemed all that impossible. Weird, for sure, but not impossible.

His hair fell like needles over his forehead, stopping just above his eyes. And what awesome eyes they were—all black with a white center. They reminded her of a bull’s eye but without the red in the middle. Those eyes looked at her now, and she shivered. He seemed to see straight into the place where she hid all her secrets.

He had a face made for magazine covers. Could someone say
GQ
model? That razor sharp jaw and those angular features caught the light prefectly. If she’d had a camera she wouldn’t mind snapping a few pictures. And those lips…she stopped. She didn’t know him, and something told her she
shouldn’t
get to know him.

She reminded herself to focus on Niko. He slept in that coffin, and if she didn’t say yes to whatever Tomas and Death had planned, God only knew what would happen to him. Tomas had said Niko couldn’t stay in the coffin for long. If she resisted or wasted more time, she had no idea how it would affect him. She wanted him back alive and healthy, with all his parts intact. She hadn’t come to the Crossroads to save him only to lose him in the end because she didn’t help out. She could do this. She repeated the words in her head like a mantra. She couldn’t consider the alternative if she failed.

She tore her gaze from the creepy, staring
GQ
-model guy and settled it on Death, finally seeing what kept him in the chair.

“Why doesn’t anyone just remove the knife?” Her voice climbed an octave when she said knife. Even if she’d made up her mind to help, it didn’t mean she was a hundred percent okay with it.

The guy beside Death snorted. “You’d think we would have thought to do that by now.”

She didn’t like his tone, which translated to her not liking him at all. Yes, that made things
so
much easier.

“Balthazar,” Tomas said. He made the guy’s name sound like an exasperated sigh. “I should have known you would be the one who could break into a lockdown.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, old man.” Balthazar grinned.

Arianne crossed her arms and scowled. She decided she didn’t like that grin either. Did they really expect her to go anywhere with this guy? Oh, she could already feel the aggravation he’d cause her. Arrogant types like him were hell to work with.

“He found the Keeper’s Key.” Death finally spoke, but his voice sounded really weak.

For the first time since she’d met him—even though he’d just tortured Niko into returning to his post as Reaper of Georgia—Arianne felt sorry for Death. Even if he wanted to take away her eyesight and memories of Niko in exchange for Niko’s humanity, no one deserved to be stabbed in the chest. She winced. The knife must be really hurting him for him to sound like he stood outside Death’s door. Ironic, really. Maybe, in the back of her mind somewhere, she did think he deserved it. A little.

Tomas’s voice pulled her back into the conversation. “Impressive. Took him long enough.”

“Whoa! Back that truck up.” Balthazar raised both his hands. His face contorted in confusion. “This has to be some kind of massive joke. Are you saying you sent me to that godforsaken hellhole just so I could come back with the damn key?”

His voice ended in a snarl, and Arianne backed up a step and put Tomas between herself and the increasingly pissed off guy. Or was he some sort of creature? Maybe one of the Reapers? Whatever. She couldn’t be sure until the people in the room started explaining.

“Shouldn’t we start figuring out what we need to do next?” she said from behind Tomas.

“Shut up, little girl!”

Balthazar’s acidic tone forced her out of hiding. “Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

Mischief glinted in Balthazar’s eyes. “Trust me, that’s the tamest thing I’ll call you. But don’t tempt me.”

Arianne returned behind Tomas’s protection. “Jerk.”