Page 50 of Reaper’s Curse

And the landing hurt. A lot.

With a groan, I lay there, unmoving, allowing all my still-healing muscles and wounds to protest adamantly.

Could be I’d granted too much faith to the swell of certainty that had ballooned in my chest.

Breaking in and climbing the stairs it would have to be.

Releasing a grunt and a moan, I pushed to my feet, wiped the dirt and dust from my reaper leathers, and stalked back to the building. A yank and tear later, I stepped through an exposed broken window, forged through the empty building, and climbed the stairs to the rooftop.

A strong kick against the last door blocking my path and access to the roof was granted. I took a stride forward and paused. I’d been here before. Felt that truth tingling along my nerves and coiling in my muscles. I’d not been here to reap but for another reason. A reason I couldn’t quite remember. The reason I’d given the boy sounded rather unlikely—to save a goddess.

Gods and goddesses didn’t need saving by creatures such as myself. But I was meant to do something important. And since I’d not been recalled to the Underworld, that something still needed to be done.

Drawn by the view of the surrounding citadel, I shifted to the edge and peered at the distant palace.

Raven was there, somewhere, roaming the rooms and halls of the monstrous structure.

My gaze flickered to a tower set apart from the others, and I could have sworn I heard the faintest of whispers. Had something otherworldly beckoned me?

A light shimmered in one of the highest windows, and surrounding that window, a shifting shadow of onyx. A shiver rolled over me. I needed to go there. I needed⁠—

A scream pierced the early morning, snapping my attention away from the palace. The sound was near. So near, in fact…

I leaped onto the roof of the next building. Ran the length and jumped to the next, and the next. I repeated the process several times until I screeched to a halt at the very edge of a terracotta-tiled crown.

My feet stopped working, and my limbs froze.

A large black bird dove for me. Dropped a note and gonked, then it flew into the distance without verifying I’d received the delivered message. But it was not the crow deposit that held my motion. It was the sea of black birds circling in the sky above and, more specifically, the fury-driven female in the small court below.

My lips parted, freeing a short breath, as my gaze transfixed.

Raven was screaming. A wrenching combination of anger, sadness, and fear. But it wasn’t her screaming alone that held my movements hostage. It was the fierce way she was attacking the Killian.

“Hellfire,” I mumbled with an internal groan.

Without giving the crow-delivered message a glance, I snatched it from the ground, shoved it in one of my side pockets, and then leaped from the roof…right into the middle of a violent, reaper-fueled confrontation.

15

The Killian didn’t fight fair.

Not that I particularly cared in my present state of mind. Sure, I wasn’t remotely okay with his want for my death. Not in the slightest. I wasn’t ready to cross that bridge. But the more compelling drive currently pushing me was an inner storm of fire and ash and total oblivion. I wanted to break things. Destroy them beyond comprehension.

A whoosh, whoosh, whoosh filled my ears. Vibrated across my skin.

I was furious with the Killian, but I was equally angry with, basically, everyone. I was mad at Valen for being a pushy, irritating jerk. Mad at the queen for trapping me in the current situation. Mad at Winter because he eased the discomfort of the ice magic lingering in my system and confused my feelings.

I hated feeling beholden to him. Hated needing him in such a manner. Hated going against my motto of not getting involved.

I was mad at Aldine for dying and abandoning me and Chace in the damn reap of a task…not that I could truly hold him at fault. And I was mad at Chace for leaving me alone to figure out the reaping job. Rationally, I knew his absence wasn’t his fault, but that didn’t stop the anger from roiling through my body and soul.

Every kick and swing I took at the Killian failed to land its mark. He used whatever magic he had that stopped time, thus enabling him to shift feet and yards around me in nothing more than a blink.

And it wasn’t just the Killian I was fighting, because his image kept flickering between the many faces of those who ignited my emotions. Winter, Chace, Valen…the Killian.

If I could get one hit upon my target, maybe I’d feel better. Be able to expel all that ugly energy building inside of me with violence. Send the darkness away from me through the harsh contact.

As if sensing my need, or possibly taunting me, the Killian stilled, allowing me to land my boot straight to his abdomen. The slam of my foot against his body was like kicking a wall—hard and immovable. The hit rattled my bones.