Chapter 23 #2
I brush dust off my sleeve like I am showing off a new manicure, all smug calm and mischief. That’s right, baby boy. I’m all-powerful again.
“Long story short?” I say. “Pain and I had a heart-to-heart while I was locked in the murderer’s van.”
“A talk fixed everything?”
“You can say so.” I tip my chin, letting the mystery hang there for now. “I’ll tell you everything later, promise. But right now I’ve got… somewhat of a problem.”
That does it. He exhales hard, the tension draining out of his shoulders as if he’s been holding it in for hours. He tucks the gun behind him again and settles it under his shirt. “What kind of problem?”
I glance into the pan and at the food he’s cooking because, for a second, I genuinely don’t know how to say this. I know I should hurry. I know I have limited time. Still, my brain catches on one stupid detail anyway.
Is that chili?
It looks like it.
“Rhea and the girls want us to kill the murder duo fast,” I say. “They’re lingering all around the hospital.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, the first couple of crows land somewhere on the railing outside. After the stunt those birds pulled last time, I recognize the sound as easily as my own breath.
“Ah, yes. Don’t worry,” Nathaniel murmurs. “Cassian is preparing everything in the basement. If he gets impatient, he’s going to finish the job in a moment or two.”
No. That is exactly what I’m worried about.
My heart spikes a beat, and I only manage a single blink at Nathaniel before action wins over explanation. The moment my brain decides what needs to happen next, I’m already moving, floating through floors, slicing through the building like it’s made of fog as I hunt for Cassian.
Somewhere above me, I hear Nathaniel calling my name like he has completely forgotten I’m a living-not-living girl who can pass through things whenever she wants. I ignore him.
Like I said, I’ll tell him everything later.
Right now, I need to stop a catastrophe.
I reach the basement in no time at all, and then, oh hail, there it is.
Cassian is setting a tank filled with water right on the table in front of murder number one, the wife.
Her hands are tied behind her back with zip ties, and her husband is right beside her.
Mark sits on the opposite side, watching with a terrified expression that looks like it might crack his face in half.
Cassian is back to his usual self.
“Hey there, soldier,” I say, appearing right behind him. Just like Nathaniel, his whole body flinches. Unlike Nathaniel, he doesn’t reach for a weapon like I’m a threat. A second later his shoulders loosen, and he turns to look at me.
The surprise is in his eyes, alright, but my powers don’t seem to be at the top of his list, because he doesn’t even mention them.
“Hey,” he murmurs, sliding a hand to my waist and pulling me in close.
I turn solid just in time for his touch to land. It feels almost instinctive, like my body attunes to him before my mind can catch up, and before I know it he’s hugging me in front of our lovely audience.
“Weird, I thought Nathaniel’s little poison didn’t work on you anymore,” I mutter into his neck.
“It doesn’t,” he says. “But I’m still glad to see you.”
Something about that melts my bones.
“I’m glad to see you, too,” I murmur, and then I pull back just enough to look at him. “How is your wound?”
Cassian unzips his jacket and angles his body so I can see the bandage wrapped around his torso. It isn’t soaked through anymore, and I can’t see much beneath the gauze, but the sight still lands like a punch. It still feels like shit to look at proof of what I did.
“I hope you know I didn’t mean to shoot you,” I try to joke.
“I hope you know I will wear this scar with pride,” he replies, completely serious.
“Don’t,” I say automatically. “I’ve given you enough scars already.”
His gaze flicks over my face. I don’t know how he’s done it, coming from the place he came from, but he has truly mastered the I love you gaze. It’s right there, plain as anything, like he can just set it in front of me and wait for me to trip over it.
I don’t have time to fall into that trap.
We both know how it always ends. I let go, I let him do whatever he wants to do to me, and he always wants to do a lot.
By the time it’s over, it’s like I’m operating with half a brain.
Not this time. I take one more step back, and then I press my palm to the bandage.
Heat floods down my arm. Beneath my hand I feel him, not just skin and bandage, but all the layers under it.
Threads of muscle, the messy geometry of torn tissue, bruised blood vessels trying to remember what “whole” means.
I pour a little of my power into it, and it answers like it has been waiting. His wounds stitch themselves up.
Cassian inhales sharply. “Skye…”
“Shh,” I murmur. “Don’t distract me.”
The pressure beneath the bandage releases. The hot throb in his skin quiets. Even the bruising drains back from the edges until there’s nothing left to chase.
Perfect. I knew it was going to work, but this was almost insultingly easy.
“Wow,” I whisper.
Cassian’s eyes stay locked on me. He swallows once, his throat working. “You couldn’t do that before.”
“Yup, I couldn’t,” I mutter, and then I grab the edge of his bandage and peel it back.
The skin underneath is closed.
All right.
I do not linger on what that means, not with everything else pressing in. I came down here for a reason, and it was not to stand around admiring my own abilities. I take another step back, putting a little more space between us, then point at the couple.
“Listen,” I say. “I know you wanted to kill these two fast, but I need you to pause that for me.”
Cassian’s jaw tightens. The change is immediate, like a switch flips behind his ribs.
“Skye…”
“Not because they don’t deserve it,” I cut in quickly. “They do. They absolutely do. But I need some time. I need to tell you something before you do anything irreversible.”
His gaze searches mine, suspicious and dark. “What is it?”
“Meet me upstairs,” I say. “And send a message to Talon. He should be there, too.”
He holds my stare for one more beat, then gives a sharp nod, like a soldier taking an order he hates but respects anyway.
I slide through the ceiling, leaving behind the basement, the table, the water tank, the muffled hatred, and Cassian’s attention pulling at me like a hook in my back. When I breach into the main area again, the smell of chili hits me hard.
Nathaniel is still at the kitchenette, but he is not cooking casually anymore.
He is standing with his shoulders squared, the overhead light turned on, his eyes fixed on the exact spot where I appeared last time.
The second I slide up from the floor, he exhales through his nose like he has been holding his breath for ten minutes straight.
“There you are,” he breathes.
I land on the tiles and lift both eyebrows. “Aw. You missed me.”
“More like I hate being left hanging,” he says. “Can you tell me what it is?”
I glance through the window. The number of crows has doubled. That is… not good.
“Can you set up a couple of wards in here, so we won’t be heard?” I ask.
Nathaniel’s brows pull together. “Now I’m starting to worry.”
“Really? I thought you started to worry the moment I jump-scared you.” I force a smile, but the nerves win, and it slips right off my face. “Please, Nathaniel. Just trust me.”
He holds my gaze for a beat before nodding. Whatever he’d been doing in the kitchen stops there. He abandons the quest for food entirely and reaches for the salt instead. By the time he’s drawn two of the four wards that will form a rectangle, Cassian joins us. Talon arrives not long after.
While Nathaniel finishes, I keep my eyes on the window and scan the grounds for any sign of the other Grim Reapers.
I know what it means to them to kill their murderers.
They want to move on, and I hate being the one to throw sand in their plans, especially after the van.
After Rhea helped me. After they still chose to trust us.
But that trust is exactly why it has to be now.
If we wait, they will already be inside, breathing down our necks, trying to rush everything along, and I cannot have that.
I need to talk to my guys in private while the Grims still do not suspect a thing.
“What is it?” Nathaniel asks the moment everything is prepared and the Grims cannot get inside. Cassian and Talon stand right beside him, waiting for my answer with the same sharp attention.
I straighten, squaring my shoulders, and meet their gazes head-on.
“We cannot kill those murderers,” I say. “Not now. Not ever.”
When they only stare at me, blank and uncomprehending, I force the rest of it out.
“If we do, the whole afterlife will collapse,” I say. “And when that falls, everything else goes with it. We might even… end the world.”