of my fingers still lingered like a glowing tattoo. “Why did you touch me?”
“I was just trying to help.” I flexed my fingers, trying to stop the shaking. “I was taking some of the pain away. There’s so much…”
He dropped his hand to his side, where I noticed thick black smoke swirling up from his scythe. He shook his head as an ominous pit of shadows and screams spun into existence below him.
“I don’t need you to take it away,” he growled. “I earned it.”
“But—”
He held his hand up and his chest heaved with anger. “Stay away from me.”
In an instant, the ground dropped out from under him, and the dark pit swallowed him whole.
Chapter 5
Easton
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I tapped my ash-covered boot against the tile floor of the hospital, waiting for the bleeding waste of space hooked to the monitors to give up already. It was too quiet here. Too still. Even the screams of the dead had faded into the back of my mind, making room for a skull full of thoughts that I’d been trying to avoid. I rubbed my hand over my face, where Red’s touch still lingered, as if I could scrub the memory of her away. I gritted my teeth, thinking about the calm that her innocent touch had left behind. It hadn’t lasted long, had taken only seconds for the fire inside me to burn the serenity away, but the ghost of it haunted me, waging a losing battle with the darkness that owned me.
And I hated it.
I didn’t deserve that kind of peace. And I sure as hell didn’t need some do-gooder angel’s pity. Almighty! I needed out of this room. Off this planet. I needed the heat of Hell. A little pain to ground me. I wrapped my fingers around my blade and closed my eyes, trying to remember the quick slice of pain that would take the peace away. It wasn’t there. The only thing I saw behind my closed lids were calming, bottomless blue eyes intent on taking away the only thing that kept me in my skin. Screw Cyril’s help this time. I was taking this one into the pits myself.
“Come on, you miserable bastard,” I groaned, leaning back in the chair beside the bed. “Give up!”
I stood and jerked my small curved blade from its holster at my side, watching the wrinkled human in front of me suck in his last greedy breaths.
“Somebody has their panties in a twist today,” a voice said from the doorway. I closed my eyes, summoning enough patience not to turn my blade on the jackass in the Orgasm Donor T-shirt, leaning on the doorjamb. Cash, better known in the afterlife as one of the only shadow walkers in existence, the newest member of the “undead” on the block, and the guy who had managed to seduce the most unseduceable girl I’d ever met in my life—or afterlife, for that matter.
Anaya.
Anaya, the Heaven’s reaper turned guardian, whom I’d inadvertently developed a soft spot for over the past four hundred years. The girl I was trying really hard not to resent for getting involved with this asshat and leaving me high and dry, with two territories to cover.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” I lowered my scythe and shoved it back into its holster, scowling at the other jackass in the room, clinging to life and wasting my time.
Cash waltzed into the room and sank into one of the waiting chairs, propping his boots up on the bed. “You say that like she’s my keeper.”
“That’s exactly what she is.”
He flipped me off and folded his hands behind his head. “I told her I was having a Steven Seagal movie marathon at Em’s. That was enough to buy a few hours.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“You wish.” He grinned. “I got the call halfway through Under Siege about a soul popping up around the hospital. Apparently the poor guy missed the memo that he’s dead.”
I leaned against the wall and attempted to block out the growing screams rattling my skull. “Any luck?”
“Nah. He’s an elusive little bastard,” he said. “Figured I’d come harass you until he lets his guard down.”
I looked over at the heart monitor, willing it to die. “Lucky me.”
“Speaking of flying under the radar, you’ve been noticeably absent lately.”
A nurse popped into the room and stopped when she saw Cash. He flashed her a Hollywood-worthy grin and dropped his boots to the floor.
“Can I help you?” she said, checking her chart. “I didn’t know Mr. Owen had any