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Nat stared at me for a long minute. “I wondered why I sensed no other Reapers and wasn’t called to the scene myself.” He set down his quill. “What do you need from me?”

“Can you show yourself to regular people?”

“Yes, but it risks them seeing my other form. Many say seeing Death before your time can shorten your life.” He looked worried. “I’m uncertain of the truth of that, but we all take caution with showing ourselves to the living."

Was I putting Hardy and his partner in danger? “How likely is this to shorten Hardy’s life?”

Nat shrugged. “You understand the weave of fate better than I.”

A risk. Sure. But what was the alternative? If I told Angel and he told everyone else, they’d think he was part of this. I paced, trying to weigh the pros and cons. “How much evidence will be trampled in the meantime?” I stopped. Met his gaze. “Fuck. Please, help me.”

Nat studied me for a long moment. Then he stood, rounded the desk, and took hold of my bicep. “All right. Lead the way.”

“Oh. And there are these little shades.” I struggled to find the right word. “I don’t know what to call them. Remains of souls?”

I swallowed hard, thinking about how little was left of them. An echo of pain for all eternity. That had to be worse than being a ghost. “Maybe there’s a way to help them move on? Release them? Something?”

He tipped his head in confusion. “Show them to me.”

19

ANGEL

Victor standing outside the interrogation room couldn’t mean good things.

I raised a brow at him, but he just motioned for me to follow. Merrill gave us both a wide berth and scampered off down the hall, his footsteps echoing until they faded into silence.

Too much silence.

The corridors of the SED were empty. No agents rushing between offices. No muffled conversations behind closed doors. Just the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant click of a janitor’s cart somewhere floors below.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

Victor didn’t answer until we reached the elevators. He pressed the button, waited, then said, “The warehouse.”

“I thought the scene had been cleared.” The lingering memory of the morgue left a chill in my gut.

“Hardy found signs of cult activity.” Victor paused. “And more bodies.”

I cursed.

The elevator doors opened. We stepped inside. Victor hit the button for the garage level, then turned to face me, his expression unreadable.

“How many?”

“More than a dozen so far. Beyond the ones that rose.”

I flinched, grateful he hadn’t mentioned Jude, though I knew he suspected.

“The place was lousy with cops. Abandoned by the SED.” Victor growled. “Our teams decided it was an accident. But Hardy said an unfamiliar man approached him. Pointed out a back corner outside the warehouse. Loose soil. Hardy found ritual marks. Candles. Charred bones sticking up.”

The elevator doors opened onto the garage. Cold air seeped in, carrying the smell of damp concrete and exhaust. Victor waved me toward my vehicle, keys already in his hand.

I followed, my dead arm throbbing in time with my heartbeat, thankful he planned to drive.

“Unfamiliar man?” I wondered as I got in the passenger seat.

“Disappeared the second Hardy poked at the ground and found another body. Wade thinks it was Nat.”