Chapter 34 Peter
PETER
Reaching Foxford, Luisa quickly took off to find Benedict and Lucy at Hawthorne House, where Peter had left them before he returned to the castle.
The lights were off in Stoker’s Café and the shutter was down, but the deadbolt wasn’t secured to the ground, so Faye must have closed it behind her.
Peter lifted it to find the door unlocked.
He hurried through the café, where he found that the concealed door by the pantry had been ripped off its hinges.
Dread coiled around his neck like a serpent as he ran up the stairs. The wards were still intact, so Ian would be severely weakened, but his bloodlust would embolden him to reach his prey.
The apartment door was ajar but intact. Peter smelled burning flesh, char, and death.
It was too quiet.
“Faye?” he called, terrified he was too late, nudging the door open. He didn’t feel the call of her soul to his.
Stepping inside the apartment, he saw that the curtains had been ripped down from the windows, letting the sun fill every inch of the place. He closed his eyes as the destruction overwhelmed him. Soft animal whimpering made him open them again.
“Scarlett?” he called, but the little beast didn’t come. He turned the corner into the kitchen, looking for her.
The love of his life lay, far too still, on the tiles with Scarlett curled up into her side.
Peter stumbled back against the fridge as he sank to the kitchen floor.
He heard someone shouting, crying, pleading, and it was only when Scarlett bared her fangs at him as he reached for Faye that he realised the tormented sounds were coming from him.
He pounded his fist against the tiles until his hands bled and cracks started to appear.
Through his tears, he looked from the stake still clutched in her hand to the pile of ashes sticking to the tiles as it mixed with pools of black, putrid blood.
The smell was what was left of Ian. She had killed him.
Oh, Faye, I'm so proud of you for facing up to him. But why did you have to do it alone?
He wanted to bring Ian back to life just to kill him over and over again.
To track down his soul and rip it to shreds, only to let it heal and tear him apart all over again.
But he couldn’t venture to Hell; it was forbidden for Reapers.
Faye had not only killed Ian, but also protected Peter from his own damnation.
He rubbed the tears from his eyes, staring at her closed eyes, her lips, and wanted to rip his heart from his chest. He hadn’t known loving could hurt this much.
He didn’t know how he would survive eternity without her, without her laugh, her smile.
Clutching his chest, he tried to focus his energy on silencing his emotions.
It was too much to bear. It had been agony when he had lost his father, but it was nothing to this.
Not even death could spare him from his grief.
Scarlett’s crying pulled him out of himself, filling his heart with empathy and replacing the burning hatred. Right now, he needed to comfort her. Faye would hate to see her hurting.
“It’s okay, beastie,” he managed to choke out, not wanting to frighten her.
When he tried to hold her, Scarlett let out a painful whine that tore him apart.
He checked her for wounds, but it wasn’t her blood on her scales.
She refused to leave Faye’s side, lashing out and biting him, but he didn’t care about the pain of her claws and teeth slicing his skin; she was only trying to protect her fallen owner.
“She’s safe now,” Peter told her, and Scarlett whimpered.
He crawled over and gently lifted Faye’s limp, lifeless body onto his lap.
“You’re safe now,” he whispered, cradling her tightly against him. He kissed her forehead, ignoring her wounds, and rocked her in his arms, willing her back to life. Closing his eyes, he used every ounce of his power to call for her soul, but there was nothing.
She was gone.
Faye was gone.
“Time to let her go.”
Gregory’s voice echoed through Peter’s grief. He looked up to find his mentor standing over him. His neutral expression suggested that Faye’s death wasn’t a surprise to him.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Peter said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
He refused to let go of Faye. If this was going to be the last time he held her, he was going to savour every second, because once he let go, that was it. Their story was over, and he wasn’t ready for that.
“She wasn’t supposed to be alone. I thought—” Peter couldn’t finish the sentence.
“You thought that if you, if she, changed her path, it would change the destination,” Gregory said plainly.
Peter hated how he was able to be so indifferent. It occurred to him that there was only one person who could claim one of his charges if he failed to do it.
“You were here in her final moments?” he asked, trying not to choke on his words.
“I helped her find peace, yes.” Gregory’s calm expression didn’t falter, a stark contrast to Peter’s emotional turmoil.
“You knew what she was going to do?” He knew Gregory had done what he couldn’t, but the sense of betrayal was crushing.
Gregory let out a long sigh. “Faye told me of her plans. She knew her time was coming. She didn’t want you to suffer – she didn’t want you to see her at her worst and be unable to save her.”
“I wanted to be there. I promised Faye I would be there,” he snapped. Instead she was alone and in pain.
“We both know this task was too much for you,” Gregory said.
“Let me see her, just for a second. I need to know she’s alright,” Peter pleaded desperately.
“You know I can’t do that.” Gregory shook his head.
“Her death was traumatic, so her soul is healing now. She’ll be in a state of rest for a time, and then it’ll be up to her what happens.
She needs time to adjust to her new state of existence; seeing you would only distress her.
It would be cruel to put her soul through any more turmoil. ”
“She would want to see me!”
“That might be true – we all long for our loved ones once we leave our mortal shells – but you know the rules. There’s a protocol to follow, and she wouldn’t want you to get in trouble; that’s why she made me promise not to tell you her plans.
You put her in this position. You broke the rules, and these are the consequences,” Gregory said.
He wasn’t angry or accusing. He just stated facts.
“She loved you very much, and it’s because of her that you aren’t going to be punished for your transgressions.
Her case is now closed, collected without issue; she did that for you.
Now you need to let her have her peace.”
“How could she have known what was going to happen? She didn’t have access to our files; she couldn’t have seen what her decision would...” Peter’s words trailed off as he realised what she had done. He stared down at Faye.
“Faye told Ian’s friend where he was being imprisoned. How to get into the temple, and how to get Ian out. I don’t think she expected Ian to go so feral and kill her, but no plan goes exactly how we hope.”
Peter felt like his heart was being pierced with a knife with every word.
“She wanted to face her fate; she wanted to finish her own story.” Gregory looked at him with pity.
“She w-wouldn’t have freed him,” Peter stammered, thinking he was going to be sick. How could she keep this all from me?
“She knew you were interfering with her fate. That you were trying to alter your orders. A Reaper appeared in her life out of the blue, and you expected her to remain ignorant. Not many have the strength, the courage, to face their fate with such conviction,” Gregory went on. “Her story wasn’t yours to dictate.”
Peter thought about her sudden mood swings and distant stares recently – how she been a little more clingy in the evenings and let herself sleep in more instead of rushing to open the café, just so they could stay in bed a few moments longer.
He carefully rested her on the tiles, standing up slowly.
Scarlett curled up between Faye’s head and shoulder.
“I never wanted to dictate her life. I just wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to live the life she desired. It’s not fair.” He balled his fists to stop his hands from trembling.
“Ten years you’ve been a Reaper. You should know by now that death doesn’t play fair. It was her time,” Gregory argued, a flash of anger finally visible.
The ugly truth. Peter loathed to hear it, and to know that Gregory was right. Furious, he lunged at his mentor, needing somewhere to put his rage, his grief and sorrow. Gregory didn’t even fight back when he punched him in the chin.
“Peter, stop! This isn’t you!” Benedict shouted, running in and pulling his brother off Gregory. Peter shrugged Benedict off and stepped away from both men before he did something he’d regret. Gregory was still calm, as if it was nothing he hadn’t seen before.
“This isn’t your fault, Peter,” he said, “but you made choices, and so did Faye. We did our job, and she’s found her peace. You need to accept it.”
“Faye?”
Lucy’s voice drew the attention of the three men, and Peter lost all interest in fighting, his rage extinguished by the tears in Lucy’s eyes.
She approached Faye and knelt beside her.
Peter admired how she didn’t falter or crumble.
She whispered a small blessing in Faye’s ear before closing her eyes.
“The ambulance is downstairs. We need to get her out of here,” Lucy said stoically. “I don’t want anyone else to see her like this; she deserves better than that.”
Peter looked at the couch and grabbed her favourite cosy blanket.
Those closest to him watched as he placed the blanket over Faye’s body and lifted her in his arms; anyone passing by would have thought she had fallen asleep.
He carried her outside, where Dr Ocean stood by the ambulance.
The shock on her face broke him. He didn’t want to explain, to see the grief on her face. He placed Faye gently on the stretcher.
“Aren’t you going with her?” Lucy asked.
“No, I can’t. Please take care of Faye for me.” All he wanted was to get away, but then he thought of the state of her home. He couldn’t let it stay like that, not after all the love and care she had put into the place. He needed to erase every trace of Ian; he had no right to be in her home.
“We’ll take good care of her,” Lucy promised, climbing into the back of the ambulance. She was the only one Peter trusted with Faye.
“What about Scarlett?” he asked, worried about the little dragon.
“Luisa will care for her – we’ll make sure she’s okay,” Lucy assured him.
Benedict went with his wife, after giving Peter a tight hug that said more than any words could have. They took his heart with them.
As the ambulance left, people on the street began to stare at him, and he looked down to see that his clothes were covered in Faye’s blood. They were already gossiping and whispering about what could have happened. She had killed Ian and died; what else was there to say?
“You need to come back with me and file a report,” Gregory instructed him, but Peter didn’t care about protocol. He just stared at his hands, knowing he would never touch her again, never hold her hand or kiss her face.
“You’re grieving,” Gregory continued. “But you need to follow the rules. Faye didn’t want you to get in trouble.
She knew how hard this would be for you, and she made me promise to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.
So, you either come back with me voluntarily, or I’ll drag you back and stand over you until you write and file your collection report. I don’t want you in front of—”
“She’s gone.” His broken voice sounded like a child’s.
“Yes, she is.” Gregory rested a hand on his shoulder.
“I thought I could stop it.”
“It was never up to you,” Gregory said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.
“I just want to wait until Luisa comes to get Scarlett. Faye wouldn’t want her to be alone—” Peter’s voice broke again. He didn’t want to start sobbing in front of the whole town.
“We can do that,” Gregory said, sitting with him on the curb outside. Silence fell between them.
“I’m sorry for punching you,” Peter said numbly at last, locking away his pain in a box to be dealt with later.
“I would’ve done the same.” Gregory’s smile was strained.
Peter wanted to thank him for being there for Faye when he couldn’t, but it was too soon.
He was too angry about how they’d orchestrated this horrific plan behind his back.
He had spent months trying to spare her this pain, and he’d completely missed how desperately she was trying to save him right back.