Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
“ D eath, wait, what?” Cass blinked as he kneeled on the stone in the middle of the glowing witch garden’s pond.
How on earth was he supposed to meet the actual Grim Reaper?
“Voit. La Mort t’attends.” Madame Ioshta, her fingers stained with smears of Cass’s blood, slammed her palm unto his forehead, and he descended into nothingness.
His skin prickled with pins and needles as the temperature dropped. A faint, mildewed odor tainted with smoke seeped into his nostrils as he searched the frosty darkness around him. The stone and gardens of Madame Ioshta’s yard had disappeared, leaving him alone in the unnerving void.
It wasn’t long before he saw him. The Grim Reaper.
The very image seized Cass’s heart with a frigid grip. He had seen many things in his life but nothing quite like this. He was left speechless as the tall and lean shadow of folded black robes glided toward him from a gray fog, an old, tarnished sickle in his skeletal hand.
His mouth turned dry as he swallowed his growing dread.
The thought of pre-teen Tilly meeting this gloomy creature in her bedroom without any warning suddenly hit him, and he couldn’t help but be filled with respect for her bravery. She had called this her only family during her foster care years.
His heart ached for her.
“Lilith and Ambrus’ son,” the shadowy apparition proclaimed in a low, sonorous tone.
“My parents are Charlotte and Antoine St-Amand,” Cass countered.
He was aware that Mom had been reincarnated a few times over from an ancient Celtic witch named Lilith, but the only father he recognized was the French-Canadian settler named Antoine St-Amand who had married his pregnant mother in the seventeenth century. His dad had fallen so in love with the young Charlotte when she’d arrived on this continent as a so-called King’s Daughter—women brought over from France as brides for the single male settlers—that he’d accepted her brood of six sons as his own.
“Perhaps,” Death conceded with a small rustle of his gray hood. “But you are half demon by blood.”
“News to me.” Cass was uninterested in his heritage at the moment.
“He wants to know you, apparently.”
“I’m not here for that.” He raised a brow with impatience. “I’m here for Tilly.”
“Ah, yes. Mathilda.” His voice contained a hint of sorrow.
“Is she alive?” Cass held his breath. Maybe he still had a chance.
“Yes,” Death said. “But not for long.”
“You know, and you haven’t done anything?” He had to work hard to contain his anger. How could the Reaper call himself her protector and not help?
“I do not hold the power you believe I possess.” The hood bristled again. “I am but a transporter of souls. When her time comes, I will see her safe to the blessed beyond.”
“She’s a banshee.” Cass damn near pleaded with Death. “One of yours. Doesn’t she have powers that could save her?”
“Her scream, when produced correctly, would shatter her opponent.” His voice softened. “But she has not yet managed to harvest that power. You made her immortal when impregnating her.”
“I don’t understand. How can that be? And if she’s immortal, then why did you foretell her of her death?”
“A union such as yours is rare, powerful, and transcends the borderlines between mortality and everlasting life. She has been infused with some of your immortal characteristics, but she’s much more fragile than you are. The knife of sacrifice will be lethal.”
“So, she’s powerless.”
The hood nodded, and deep frustration made Cass want to rip it off to see his real face.
“Her curses are effective,” the Reaper continued. “In fact, the one she has just cast will manifest but not early enough to save her.”
“So you’ll do nothing?”
“I cannot.” Sadness was evident in Death’s tone. It was clear he was fond of Tilly. How awful for him to know he was powerless to help her. “I appear to you as whole, but I do not possess the ability to change the course of events.”
“But I do.”
“Yes, you can.”
Cass stopped being angry and realized that the Reaper was actually trying to help.
“Where is she?” he pressed, aware he was racing against time. “I know it’s a church, but where?”
“St-Marie de Bon-Secours,” Death finally answered.
“I know it. It’s been around for a couple of centuries. It’s near the old market.”
“Farewell then,” Death seemed to unfold himself to his full height, “and good luck, son of Ambrus. I have done all I could.”
“Will you be with her now?” Cass dreaded to think of Tilly all alone at the mercy of crazed killers.
The Reaper flashed from Cass’s vision.
He found himself staring blankly at Madame Ioshta.
“ Mon dieu , Cassiodore.” She was grabbing at his shoulder and eyeing him with a panicked expression. “Are you okay? Your eyes were all white.”
“Yes.” He shook himself out of his trance and stood on the stone in the middle of the pond under an emerging light drizzle. “I know where she is. Bon-secours. We have no time.”
“The church?” She snapped her fingers and they both found themselves at the outer edge of the water. “It’s been abandoned for a good five years.”
“Perfect set-up for these fuckers.” He cursed as he rushed up the garden path toward the back of the store, the wind picking up speed around him.
“You want me to come with you?” She was right behind him as he opened the back door for her.
“Stay here, please.” He followed her in. “My family is coming. Griff, Emme, maybe others. Tell them where we are.”
“I will.” She looked at him with a pained expression.
“I’ll get the bastards.” He stormed to the front door. “Second Sons, my ass.”
“You walk with Death now,” she commented.
“What do you mean.” He paused at the glass door for a fraction of a second.
“Your hair,” she said.
He caught a glance of himself in the large gilded-framed mirror by the entrance and saw the thick streak of white hair brushing the side of his temple.
“Well, baptême .” He shook his head at his new status and escaped outside where a storm was brewing. “These motherfuckers will regret the day they came for my family.”