Death Wish (Reaper Reborn Book 1) Read online

  Interesting thought. But no other powers had shown themselves during my year dead, and I had never heard of light spells repelling demons like it had with Xaver.

  Instead of answering him, I switched the conversation onto him. “What about you? A half-demon using guns? What about that fire manipulation? Seems pretty cool.”

  His hands gripped the wheel so tight, the leather squeaked and his knuckles popped.

  It seemed someone didn’t like talking about who he was, either.

  He was quiet for a while, even slowed the Jeep down to twenty miles per hour over the speed limit instead of forty. Then he muttered, “The fire stuff isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Believe me.”

  At the last minute, he swerved onto an exit ramp and slammed on the brakes to take the curve slower. The Jeep reared up on two wheels for a breath-taking second before readjusting, the tires screeching loudly. Cole didn’t even blink.

  “You said you knew the basics about demons, but I’m guessing you don’t know that the fire power we’re cursed with is corrupting. Meaning, every time it’s used, the more of the demon takes over the human half. It’s why I trained with weapons.”

  “Shit. Really?”

  He nodded. “Most half-bloods lose themselves to the demon side pretty early on. Then they’re recruited back to Hell. I’ve been able to dodge that by barely using that part of me. I’d rather not have it at all.”

  That’s when I remembered what Andre had said back at Red about Cole being on a useless mission to get rid of part of him. “That’s why you were tracking down Xaver tonight? To ask him to expel the demon in you?”

  “Not exactly,” he replied. “It’s not as easy as ‘asking’ for a cure. I’ve been hunting for a way to get rid of my demon half for years.”

  “No luck, I’m assuming?”

  His entire body stiffened as we pulled onto a two-lane main road and he was forced to slow down even more. Wherever we were, the area reflected more of a small southern town with a one-pump gas station and an auto repair garage on one side and a Waffle House that needed some major repairs to its roof and parking lot on the other. Every hanging stop light blinked yellow, as if the rules of the road were really up to the drivers instead of the law, and every car on the road was a different color pickup truck.

  “Have you tried an exorcism?” I asked.

  “That only works with possession. Like with your friend’s boyfriend.” He frowned. “I am close to finding the answers I need. Closer than I’ve ever been before.”

  “How about other spirits? Can you see them? Haunts?”

  “Like ghosts?” His brow rose. “No, I can’t. You’re the first and only dead thing I can see. Besides other demons, but they’re technically my kin, so…”

  “Our previous theory about you and Xaver seeing me has been officially squashed, then.”

  “Damn. You’re right.”

  The sky above the trees in the distance brightened to a fiery pink as the sun began to ascend. I glanced at the dashboard clock. Five forty-five in the morning. “Is your friend going to be pissed that we’re about to wake him up so early?”

  “Probably. But he’s used to it.”

  We drove over a hill, and at the very bottom, Cole drifted the Jeep onto the shoulder. The trees and sudden bend in the road made it hard to see anything besides forest, so when he turned right, I thought we were heading from disaster. Instead, we careened down a dirt road that was so buried in the woods, tree branches scraped the sides of the car, making a terrible screeching sound that grated on my nerves.

  It was a long, winding trip. The deeper we got into the forest, the less sunlight was able to peek through, giving the feeling of nighttime darkness again. Cole flicked on his high beams, but all I could see were the tire tracks that we were following and more and more trees.

  Then we came up to a tall chain-linked fence that stretched deep on both sides. Barbwire lined the top and along the bottom, and a thick keylock sealed the gate closed. It was an intimidating sight.

  “Either he’s trying to stay hidden way back here or he’s trying to keep people away,” I said, reading the posted signs. One read No Trespassing and the other Beware of Dog.

  “I’d say a little bit of both.” Cole threw the Jeep into park. “Wyatt doesn’t particularly care for people.”

  He opened his door and stepped outside. It was hard to see him in the darkness, but I could just make out his figure striding over to the gate and hear the jiggling of the chain and lock. Then there was a loud thud and a snap. The squeal of the gate being pushed open ripped through the silence of the early morning.

  The angry bark of a large dog echoed farther down the dirt trail.

  When Cole climbed back into the car, I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. Anxiousness started to rise up. But I couldn’t let it get the best of me. Especially if I was about to enter into a dangerous situation. There were too many unknowns.

  The car lurched forward, and we began our trek again.

  “He gave you a key?” I asked him as the Jeep bumped along. The holes and mud were worse on this side of the gate, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that had been done on purpose as another deterrent for trespassers. If Cole’s car hadn’t been an off roader with four-wheel drive, there was no doubt that we would have gotten stuck in one of these pits.

  “Not exactly.”

  The forest opened up finally to a large lot. The barbed wire fence encircled a rusty double-wide trailer, several unattached storage boxes, and discarded pieces of scrap metal. An old Buick sat farther off. Even though it was partially hidden behind tall grass, it was obvious the vehicle had been used for parts since it sat on only its axels, the tires and hood having long been removed.

  This place looked more like a junkyard then a person’s home.

  On the porch, a massive German shepherd barked wildly as we approached, spit flying from its jaws.

  I must have gasped or something because Cole said, “Don’t worry about Angel. Once she gets to know you, she’s a sweetheart.”

  My brows shot up in disbelief. “A-Angel?” I sputtered. “Really?” There didn’t seem to be anything angelic about this beast. The name had to be chosen ironically.

  Cole stopped the car in front of the trailer and cut the engine.

  “Does she like you?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Nope. Not in the least. But I’m working on it.”

  Oh boy.

  Suddenly, the trailer door flew open, the rickety thing crashing against the siding so hard it sounded like a gunshot. Or maybe it was an actual gunshot, because the first thing to come through the door was the deadly end of a sawed-off shotgun, followed by a man dressed in complete cowboy attire. Right out of one of those old Western movies. Wide-brimmed hat, grey hair spun into two braids, a scruffy beard, and skin like tan leather with a permanent scowl etched into it, all the way down to the dirty plaid shirt, ripped jeans, silver belt buckle, and boots.

  This had to be Wyatt. Forget Virginia. This guy looked like he should be in the heart of Texas.

  With determined fingers fixed on the trigger of his gun, he pointed the barrel in our direction, and uttered the two words that made my heart jump into my throat.

  “Sic ‘em, Angel.”

  It didn’t matter if I wasn’t alive. Having the double barrel of a shotgun pointing in my direction was unnerving.

  I ducked out of reflex, but Cole did something even stranger. He shoved his hands between his seat and the center console and pulled out a big slab of dried beef jerky. With the other hand, he rolled down his window. The moment Angel leapt for the door, he chucked the meat like a frisbee across the yard. The dog was off running in the next second, sights now trained on the treat.

  “See,” Cole whispered, his rising and falling chest revealing that he was more scared than he let on. “We have a love-hate relationship.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. I didn’t mind dogs. Even better—puppies. Puppies were cute. They were snuggly. All
they wanted were kisses and love. What I did mind was massive beasts with sharp teeth that were trained to kill on command. Angel was no angel, that was for sure.

  As Cole reached for the door handle, he leaned close to me and whispered in a rush, “By the way, Wyatt doesn’t know what I am, and I would like to keep it that way.”

  I blinked, a little stunned. “What—why?”

  He opened the door and quickly jumped out of the car. “You’ll see. Oh, and be careful where you step.” He slammed the door shut before I could press for more.

  Sometimes he was really irritating.

  I got out, too, looking from Angel, who had found the jerky in the brush by the fence and was munching it, to the cowboy Wyatt, who still hadn’t lowered his gun. Every time Cole moved, the barrel followed him. I never thought I’d ever be so thankful for being invisible to the living.

  Some friend Wyatt was. Where did Cole find these crazies?

  Cole’s hands shot up into the air, and his shirt pulled up, revealing a strip of pale, muscular midsection, lightly dusted with blond hair. If there were any other time, I may have bit my lip and admired such a beautiful specimen, but I became a little distracted by what rode on his hips, a concealed belt fully stocked with bullet cartridges, two handguns, vials of Holy Water, and a sheathed dagger. He was packing in more ways than one.

  “Wyatt,” Cole called out as he approached the porch. “It’s just me.”

  Wyatt’s gun never wavered. “You broke my gate’s lock again,” he shot back. His voice was abrasive and raspy, like sandpaper scraping against metal. Harsh.

  “I’ll buy you another one,” Cole said, glancing my way, a silent signal for me to stay close behind him.

  Wyatt’s stare hardened. “You owe me six already.”

  “I’ll buy you six next time I come by, then. And a twelve-pack of beer. How does that sound?”

  That made Wyatt lower the gun, but his glare never eased. “I want the one Sean got me that one time.” He smacked his lips. “Somethin’ Bastard. Somethin’—”

  “Sean?” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

  “His son,” Cole mumbled, his lips barely moving.

  “Somethin’… Somethin’…”

  “Arrogant Bastard?” Cole offered.

  “Yes, that’s it. Expensive. Tasty. None of that cheap piss water stuff.”

  Cole’s hands lowered back to his sides. “Arrogant Bastard. It matches you.”

  He climbed up the porch steps and clapped Wyatt on the back. Wyatt, though, didn’t relax much.

  A prickle of warning raced up my spine, and I whipped around to find Angel sitting behind me, her ears perked up in curiosity and her tongue running over her lips from her recent snack. I froze, afraid to move.

  The animal was staring right at me, but the ferocious beast I had seen before was gone. She cocked her head to the side, as if she were only confused by me.

  I wasn’t surprised Angel could sense me here. It was unclear how much of me she could actually see, but she definitely knew I was here, in front of her. I found out fairly early during my training that animals were much more sensitive to the dead than humans were. They could track my movements.

  Ever get freaked out when a dog or cat stares at nothing? Well, you should be. More than likely, you have a spirit.

  A sharp whistle rang out, jerking Angel’s attention back to her master on the porch. Cole was staring at us with wide eyes.

  “What is with you, girl?” Wyatt called. “Come here.”

  Her head jerked my way one more time before running to the trailer. As she and Wyatt walked into the house, Cole stayed behind for me to walk over.

  “What the heck did you do to her?” he whispered.

  I shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “She saw you?”

  “I think so.”

  “It’s taken me years to get her to not take a chunk out of my leg. Hence the jerky. That’s the only thing that seemed to work for me.”

  I shrugged again.

  Cole touched the door, but before he walked in, he paused. “Oh, and as I mentioned before. Be very careful where you step. If you see any markings on the floor or walls, do not touch them.”

  What did that mean?

  Again, before I could ask more, he stepped inside.

  I was beginning to believe he was doing this on purpose.

  When I passed through the door, I stopped short. I knew trailers weren’t the most spacious of homes, but this one was packed in tight by boxes, books, and papers stacked on top of each other from floor to ceiling. They were everywhere.

  To my left was a small kitchenette, but the hoard had even stretched into there. Scrolls were shoved into the kitchen cabinets instead of food, and more boxes crowded the counters. To the right was a living room area, which was the most congested. A small path had been made from the door to a desk and a battered old armchair. Overpacked shelves lined the walls behind them, blocking a fairly big window. Actually, the more I looked around, the more I realized how dark the space really was. Every window had been covered, either by a heavy shelf or by plywood boards.

  He was clearly trying to keep someone out.

  Or something.

  Besides the dingy interior, layers of dust on everything, and not-so-pleasant smells of cigarettes, mildew, and old books, this place could be a librarian’s wet dream.

  Or nightmare. The disorganization would probably drive them crazy.

  Wyatt collapsed in his armchair and reached into his front shirt pocket for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. Angel curled up at his feet; this was their obvious routine.

  Cole sidestepped carefully through the small pathway, and it was then that I noticed the strange markings spray painted on the carpet. He tried not to make his movements conspicuous, but I saw them. He was avoiding the marks, stepping around them as gracefully as he could manage.

  The symbols on the floor were foreign to me. They reminded me a bit of the ones that made up the spirit door and transportation portals, but the details were hard to see completely. Most of them were covered by the piles of junk, but if Cole was doing his best to avoid them, there had to be a good reason. I would have to ask him about it later.

  I mimicked his movements, following as close to the wall as I could so I didn’t touch the marks.

  “Where is Sean?” Cole asked, glancing around the room. I guessed the bedrooms in this place were off the kitchen and maybe Sean was in one. I wondered if they were as tightly crammed as everywhere else.

  Wyatt puffed on his cigarette. “He ran out to town. He should be back soon.” His scowling expression turned more suspicious. “Let’s cut the shit, Cole. Why are you here bothering me again?”

  “Straight to business. It’s one of the many things I like about you.”

  Wyatt rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, yeah.” He took another deep draw of his cigarette.

  Time to cut the bullshit, as the old man had said.

  “I ran into Xaver.” They were four simple words that to anyone else would have meant nothing, but by the way Wyatt’s eyes flew open and he half choked on his next puff, he knew exactly who Cole was talking about.

  He sputtered and coughed for a minute as he struggled to regain his breath. When he finally did, he stubbed out the cigarette and moved to the edge of his armchair. What was even more surprising was that the grimace was gone and a grin sat in its place. “You found him?”

  “You really didn’t believe I would?”

  “Hell no, I didn’t. Xaver isn’t some Halfling Hell minion. He’s a full-blood.”

  That was the second time I had heard that word. Halfling. First by Andre and now Wyatt. And the way Cole’s lip curled up in disgust each time he heard it made me think it wasn’t just some typical nickname.

  More like an insult.

  “I told you not to doubt my skills,” he grumbled.

  Wyatt ignored him. “Did you kill the bastard?”

  “Er—”

 
There was the glower again. “Some skill.”

  “Things got…” Cole paused, choosing his next word while glancing over at me. “Complicated.”

  He could say that again.

  “It’s a good thing I didn’t pay you to kill him,” Wyatt said. “It would have been a waste of money.”

  “If you had, then you bet he would have been dead. Money is a great motivator.”

  Wyatt huffed in disbelief.

  “Here’s the thing. I ran into Xaver last night. Without the solstice.”

  Wyatt’s brows shot up, and before Cole could utter another word, he pushed himself off the chair and walked over to one of his overloaded shelves behind the desk. After skimming the spines of the old books, he chose one and pulled it out. Opening to a random page, he grumbled something as he read it over.

  Cole kept talking. “He possessed a woman’s boyfriend over in downtown Fairport. A sorcerer. And was after the girl—a Medium.”

  The sudden snap of Wyatt closing the book made me jump. He cursed, tossed it onto his cluttered desk, and moved to another pile of leather-bounds by the armchair.

  Angel’s eyes stayed locked on me, and she whimpered softly.

  As Wyatt flipped through another book, he muttered, “A Medium would be a prime target for a victim.”

  Victim. Worry twisted in my gut. It only solidified how much trouble Kay really was in.

  He continued, “Depending on how strong this Medium’s gift is. But they are not only rare, they’re the middleman, so to speak, between our world and theirs. The living and the dead. It makes sense Xaver would want her. She can most likely survive long enough to produce his offspring.”

  I winced. The fact that the first thing he went to was Kay being pregnant with a demonic baby made me want to throw up. Wyatt and Cole knew more about demons than I did, and if they both were thinking the same thing, then odds weren’t looking in Kay’s favor.

  “Is there a way to confirm it?” I asked, but then realized only Cole would be able to hear me. Oh, and Angel, whose head perked up at the sound of my voice.

  Cole repeated my question to Wyatt.