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“We gettin’ those mafia fuckers or what, Manic?”
I lifted my finger and flipped off Rael.
His dark chuckle joined Bodie and Jigsaw’s laughter.
I felt at home among these Reapers. Accepted. Their darkness and monsters were kindred with mine. Same with Maddog.
I was still learning about the shadow inside me. Lucifer didn’t give a lot of details when I signed his contract. From what I understood, he liked to let us figure this shit out ourselves. Amusement for him, in a way. Maybe it broke up the monotony and boredom of immortality. Who knew?
The main house was dark when we approached, not a single light glowing inside or out, not even the twinkling white lights that usually lit up the veranda. I’d gotten used to that glow outside Bianca’s room and the upper floor. Silence crept across the lawn, entangled with the low fog rolling across the grass. Unease traveled up my spine, and I gripped Bianca’s hand tighter.
“Something is up,” Rael hissed.
“I know.” We stopped in the shade underneath a crop of nectarine trees. “We need to check on Craven.”
Bianca stiffened. “You think he’s okay?”
“He’s wonderfully resilient,” I replied with confidence. “I know he can handle himself. I just need to be sure.”
She accepted my answer with a tight smile.
I didn’t add that I worried he could be caught up in something dangerous.
We took the gravel path that led to his cottage, one of the few places I considered home, and approached the small, tidy building. Outside, flowers and bushes were meticulously upkept, along with the surrounding lawn and foliage. Craven enjoyed the work in the early morning hours when the sun wasn’t blazing down on his home or the vineyard.
Such a contrast to the bloody, macabre life he led in the night, where he studied anatomy and prepared corpses for burial—two halves of one soul. I never saw the connection or how it mirrored my life until now. Craven was also a shadow. A phantom in his own way.
The door stood ajar when we were close enough to see it. I dropped Bianca’s hand and ordered her to stay with Rael as I rushed inside. The place had been overturned and ransacked.
Bookcases toppled over with numerous volumes scattered across the floor. Drawers stood open on his desk, and papers littered the surface. Chairs lay on their side. The dining room table had been shoved against the wall.
I didn’t see or smell blood, but that didn’t matter. Someone had come here to find something, and when they didn’t, it enraged them.
“Craven,” I called out as loud as I dared.
“In here,” he groaned in a strained voice.
Fuck! I found him sitting on the bed in his room as he held the side of his head. Blood trickled through his fingertips.
“Craven!Padre!” I shouted without thinking, dropping to my knees in front of him. “Let me check your wound.”
He moved his hand enough for me to see the gash above his left eye. “Master Benny.”
“Who hurt you?” I growled, knowing they would be dead before morning. I scanned his body, unable to find any other injuries. “Are you okay?”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s nothing. I can handle it.”
I wanted to object, but he didn’t give me a chance.
“Russo is here.”
My body stiffened with rage. “Is he the one who hurt you?”
“No. One of his men. He called him Bruno.”
Bruno. The same man who bent me over and robbed me of my childhood. I will never forget his name.
My upper lip lifted in a snarl. “He’s a dead man.”
