Her gaze searched mine again, then she nodded and gave me a somewhat tremulous smile. "That must be it.” She reached out and touched my hand, steeping me in her grief. And in my own guilt. And once again I found myself resisting the impulse to pull away. "Thank you, Risa. Thank you.”
"I'm just sorry I couldn't be the bearer of better news,” I said honestly.
She lifted her shoulder—a half shrug that somehow seemed so sad. "We knew. We just needed—”
"I know.” I squeezed her fingers, then stepped back. "I have to go.”
"Thank your mother for me.”
"I will.” Then I turned and escaped. The shrouded reaper was still waiting in the hall. That surprised me, but also gave me hope. Maybe the matter of the child's passing wasn't as settled as it seemed.
Once free of the ward, I all but ran for the elevator, wanting, needing, to get out of this place—and away from its oppressive atmosphere—as quickly as possible.
Once on the ground floor, I headed with speed for the front doors. Outside, it was raining again, but I didn't give a damn. I just stood there on the top step and raised my face to the sky, letting the moisture soak my skin, washing away the scent of death and the feeling of wrongness.
It was only when I began to shiver that I opened my eyes and looked around me.
And saw my reaper.
He was standing at the bottom of the steps, staring up at me. He was still half naked, the rain beading on his warm, suntanned skin and running lightly down his six-pack abs. The leather holding his sword in place seemed to emphasize the width of his shoulders, and the wet denim of his faded jeans clung to his legs, hinting at their lean strength. Stylized black tatts that resembled the left half of a wing swept around his ribs from underneath his arm, the tips brushing across the left side of his neck. He stood like a fighter—lightly, warily, as if he expected trouble at any moment.
And if he was coming for me, he was certainly going to get it.
I continued to stare at him, unspeaking. Unmoving. For all I knew, this sword-carrying reaper might be responsible for the atrocity that had happened upstairs. And if he could do that, then God only knows what else he might be capable of.
"So,” he said, after what seemed like an age. "You can see me.”
His voice was mellow and rich—the total opposite of what I'd expected. On any other man it might have been sexy, but this wasn't a man. He merely held that form.