Chapter 41
Of course, the moment we were back in the apartment and I’d confirmed Ivan was safe with the Murder Twins glued to his every step, my brain latched onto a new catastrophe. I’d messed up Angel’s soul with my amateur stitching.
“I feel fine,” Angel assured me, his voice warm and sated as we showered off the rooftop interlude.
“A stellar review,” I snarked, scrubbing a hand through my wet hair. “Fine. The official medical term for not currently dying from my mate’s magical malpractice. I should add it to my resume— ‘Proficient at bullshitting life threads into a state of unknown existential crisis.’”
He shut off the water and caged me against the tile, his warmth drawing a contented sigh from my lips.
“You didn’t mess anything up. Though…” He paused, a thoughtful frown on his face.
“I do have this strange, sudden craving for sweets and archaic books on necromancy. You think that’s Nox’s influence leaking through? ”
“You’re blaming my familiar for your sugar addiction?” I asked. “You introduced me to an otherworld bakery that could likely survive on your patronage alone.”
He raised a brow, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “Just exploring all the variables.”
“Right. And I’m supposed to believe those variables are a National Geographic guide to fae dragon eating habits, and not, I don’t know, tentacle porn?”
He gave me a side-eye. “That’s a suspiciously specific example. How much tentacle porn do you have?”
I sputtered, my face heating. Didn’t everyone read at least some? How would I know if it were my thing or not if I didn’t try it?
Angel leaned to nuzzle my throat. “You can play with my tentacle anytime you want.”
A laugh burst out of me. “I just did.” I nudged his shoulder lightly, but my gaze drifted to the faint, shimmering thread only I could see, connecting him to the tingling presence lingering on the edge of my senses.
Nox hadn’t left his perch above, but I could feel him linked to me as if he’d never left my side.
“But seriously, what if I messed up something? I barely know what I’m doing. ”
His playful expression softened. “How about you let Nat be the judge?” He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “See if he’ll meet us on the way. We’ve got a crime scene to break into.”
As we dressed, I pulled out my phone, my thumbs flying over the screen.
Can you look at a weave? I might have messed Angel up.
The reply was immediate:
Is he acting off?
No more than usual. But I might have shared my familiar with him?
Fifth and Portland, near the Commons. One hour.
We found him there, leaning against a tree that had long since been pulled across the Veil and arched into the air like a gnarled old witch’s hand.
For a moment, he was just a man, tired eyes, a tweed jacket, looking like a weary academic.
Then he stepped toward us, moving from the Veil’s influence into the mundane one, and the illusion shattered.
The scholarly demeanor dissolved, replaced by the skeletal visage and dark, depthless wells of the Reaper’s black void of eyes.
Two more steps and he crossed the Veil again, becoming the man of bookstore mystery, making me wonder why he could only look human across the Veil.
“Did you see him change?” I asked Angel.
“No.”
“And he shouldn’t,” Nat added. “Only those on the verge of dying see a Reaper’s true form in this world.”
I gaped at my boyfriend. “Could have led with that before introducing us. Does that mean I’m going to die? I’ve seen him change several times!”
“Everyone does eventually,” Nat said. “You’ve been busy,” he added, though his focus was on Angel.
“Did I fuck it up?” I breathed, hoping he could undo anything I’d fumbled into.
He circled Angel, expression thoughtful. “Interesting.”
“What?”
“I feel fine,” Angel repeated.
“Who did the original cover-up?” Nat asked.
“A practitioner with the military,” Angel said.
“Hmm.”
That was not a reassuring sound. “They look terrible, don’t they?” I asked, desperate for a professional opinion. “All snagged and frayed?” As if the spells weakened his aura of life itself.
Nat stopped his circuit to peer at the zombie mark I’d rewoven. “Once cast, these spells are nearly impossible to remove. Slowing down the impact is the best most can do. But you… you’ve pulled all the venom out of this one. I would never have thought it possible. Fascinating.”
“Feels like being a bug in a specimen jar,” Angel grumbled, though he remained stoically still.
“It was a zombie spell, right? To drag his body back.” I prodded, my mind racing.
Nat threw me a beaming, unnerving smile. “Look how fast you learn. Yes, that was its function. But the underlayment was far more insidious. If his heart had faltered, it wouldn’t have just dragged him back, it would have stopped his heart preemptively, ensuring a fresh, compliant puppet.”
I flinched. Holy fuck. The sheer cruelty of it stole my breath. “And now?”
“Now?” Nat gestured to my work. “Now it’s a bit of an Uno Reverse.
If he’s badly injured, he’ll heal faster.
Pulling a tiny bit of energy from all the thousands of threads connecting to him.
Community on blast. Harmless to others, unless he’s somehow severed from everyone who cares about him, but a supercharger for his healing power.
” He then waved a hand at the shimmering, silvery thread connecting Angel to Nox.
“And this is clever. A soul tether that doesn’t drain but reinforces. It’s an upgrade.”
The relief made my knees weak. “And it won’t hurt Nox?”
“Your fae dragon? No. The fae are permanently tethered to the source of life itself. They are, for all intents and purposes, cosmic batteries. It’s precisely why power seekers hunt them.
Your little dragon here? He practically hums with excess energy.
” He leaned closer, studying the link with intense focus.
“Would you have done something different?”
“This skill is beyond me. Far beyond most weavers. I’m not sure most could even read the subtle perfection of the lines you’ve stitched.”
Again, with the not normal. “That’s good?”
Nat gave a slow, approving nod. “It is. But work like this is noticeable. It shines in the dark.” His Reaper’s gaze pinned me. “Be careful where you shine your light, Jude. The things that live in shadows are always watching.”
“That’s what worries me,” Angel said.
“Wise,” Nat agreed. He tilted his head at me. “As is caution.”
“What about the rest of the runes?” My mind was already racing over the other snags in Angel’s soul. I had to study them to understand them, and then even longer to try to reweave. He had dozens of them. “Which should I focus on unraveling next?”
“What you’ve done here is the equivalent of microsurgery,” Nat said. “Attempting a full soul scouring now wouldn’t just unravel your sanity—it could fray Angel’s very essence.” He let the warning hang in the air between us. “It would, quite literally, explode that pretty little brain of yours.”
“Yeah, let’s not do that,” Angel said, his arm tightening around me.
“Let this settle,” Nat instructed, gesturing to the space between us. “A bond like yours needs to solidify. That is your foundation. It could take years to mend all the rest.”
“And we don’t need to,” Angel interrupted, his voice firm. “I’ve made my peace with them.”
“But this one is sound?” I asked, needing the confirmation. “The one I just fixed?”
Nat gave a single, definitive nod. “It is. Trust your instincts, Jude. They are good.” His form blurred at the edges, bleeding into the surrounding darkness. “But remember, you are not immortal. Death comes for us all. Don’t rush to meet it by burning your soul out trying to fix someone else’s.”
With that final piece of grim advice, he vanished completely, leaving us alone in the silent, chilling dark.
“You have the weirdest friends,” I grumbled.
“Says the man who just got life advice from a Reaper,” Angel countered, pulling me toward the road. “Come on. Let’s catch up with the team before they decide to case the place without us.”