Page 8 of Reapers Don’t Ride

Chapter

Three

Having an angel in my small, uninspiring apartment above an underworld seafood restaurant was awkward. His suit was perfection, like the rest of him, and there was nothing perfect about my place. After being gone for so long, it was dusty but untouched. There was no sign of Crucible or any intruders.

I crouched over the ferret’s small bed, smelling it, trying to gauge how long it had been since he’d been curled up on his little pillow. It had been a very long time.

“Do you have clothing for the ball?”

I looked up at the angel standing against the wall opposite me, where he’d been since we entered. “No. What I’m wearing is as good as I have. And getting invitations won’t be easy after I publicly testified against Mr. Good. He’s associates with the Vampire King.”

“Of course he is. You had your own place while you were enslaved by his cursed dagger?”

He’d clearly read my file. “Yes. He only summoned me when he had a target for me.”

“And he didn’t make you drink from him to increase the binding?”

“Mr. Good doesn’t meddle with his people. If you aren’t competent, you wouldn’t work for him. He also dislikes being bound to others.”

“So if you’re going to be owned by an evil man, it should be Mr. Good.”

I shrugged and straightened up, checking the cabinet for the cans of pet food I’d left. They were still there, and I had a few blood bags in the freezer. I should drink one before I had to go close to Gavriel. I didn’t want to drink blood in front of him so that he really understood what kind of monster I was. I didn’t want the scent of his discontent with me to grow. I wanted him to like me, and not just so we could defeat Tralcon. Which was ridiculous. All these wants were impossible, and I didn’t cultivate impossible desires.

I went to the freezer, got out the first blood bag, and then ran it under hot water in the sink to melt it.

“How often do you need to feed?” he asked, soft, like he knew exactly how to pitch his voice for the keen hearing of a vampire.

“Once a month, but I’ve gotten accustomed to much more often.” Which might be a problem once we were at the Vampire King’s castle.

“Once a month? That’s not nearly enough.”

I gave him a slight smile. “Agreed. A blood pack every day has been luxurious. I’ve gotten very spoiled.”

His brow furrowed. “Eating every day isn’t being spoiled. Most vamps drink several times a day. Once a day is supposed to be an austere diet.”

I shrugged. He was really pleasant to look at, but I had to be careful about not staring. I had a few card games in the cabinet that I played with Crucible sometimes. Gavriel would probably be a better opponent. He wouldn’t chew on the edges of the cards, either. Not that we had time for cards. I needed to focus.

“I’ll have to go shopping. How close do you need to stay to me? It’ll be easier to get invitations if I can go alone.”

“I never go far from my friends. But I can be invisible.”

I studied the bag of blood as it softened and melted in my hands. It was almost ready to drink. Maybe it would be less shocking to watch me drink it from a glass. “If I had a reputation for seducing angels, then that would give us a reason to be seen together, other than that we’re taking down Tralcon.” I shouldn’t have said that about seduction. It was too close to my feelings, not my desire to corrupt him, but he was my ghost.

“That is a pity. Most angels aren’t very good at infiltrating the enemy with lies, anyway,” he said apologetically.

I turned to smile at him. “I suppose we’ll have to be honest. Breaking down the Vampire King’s front gate is an option.”

He narrowed his eyes. “One that we’ll try to avoid.”

“Or embrace. You’ve read my file. I have a reputation as a slightly eccentric vampire who talks to no one and ignores the real people. Tralcon kept me on the far side of sanity with bloodlust and despair. They would be interested to see how I’ve adapted without him. Without anyone. Vampires are interested in such experiments.”

“I’m going outside to check the perimeter.” The next moment he was gone, leaving a strong scent of discontent behind.

And I hadn’t even opened the blood bag yet. I sighed, pierced it with my fangs and drank, sinking into a crouch in front of my sink while I tried to think through logistics. Reapers were easily corrupted because they killed so many. I’d rather die than corrupt Gavriel. What a pretty name. I would make a point of not corrupting him, which would be amusing to all the vampires. Yes, our mission, with the two of us in close proximity, would be very amusing. He couldn’t be the Reaper to them, but an ordinary angel who was my guard in our hunt for the demon.

I straightened up, poured my blood bag into a glass, and went to the desk where I kept my stationery. I’d always loved stationery, even if I very rarely had anyone to write to. And if anyone wrote to me, I’d need someone else to read it.

I opened my jar of ink, licked the tip of my nib, and then started writing. Ever since I’d been changed, words were fuzzy at best, but I could still remember how they were supposed to be shaped, even if I couldn’t read them. It was one of the many tragedies of becoming a vampire, that I’d lost connection with one of my greatest joys as a human. No other vampire I’d met had trouble seeing words, but maybe they just didn’t mention it. There were thousands of years when reading wasn’t mainstream. Why could I see bullets and not letters?