Page 12 of Veil of Death and Shadow (Order of Reapers #1)

12

MAREENA

Present Day

F or a full minute, my only reaction was to laugh. “You honestly expect me to believe that you’re my guardian angel?”

Kieran continued to watch me, a bemused look on his face. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

I waited, expecting him to break into a raucous laugh, too, and then, hopefully, to offer a real explanation as to why he was stalking me.

But he didn’t.

“Wait,” I held the warm cup of tea between my hands, focusing on the heat of it to help ground me, “seriously?”

He arched one of his dark brows, the color in such contrast with the silvery-white hair on the top of his head. He nodded. “Seriously.”

I took a long pull of the tea, savoring the burn as it coated my throat and chest on the way down.

When I thought of angels, chubby babies and blond-haired harp players came to mind.

I studied Kieran, my eyes locking on his piercings, his tattoos, that fuck-me-smirk he often wore like a dare. He looked like a drummer in a punk band more than some winged protector.

Not to mention he didn’t exactly fuck like an angel either.

“You don’t look like the type,” I said.

“Yeah?” He shot me a devilish grin. “Type, eh. How many angels have you known exactly?”

Okay, fine. We could play this game if he wanted to.

It wasn’t like I was busy—he’d quite literally gotten rid of my only two customers. And they didn’t even want anything other than steam. Now, I understood why.

“And do you regularly fuck your charges?”

The curve of his lips flattened.

“No, that’s not exactly allowed.” He considered for a moment. “Or at the very least, if it’s not directly punishable, it’s incredibly taboo.”

“But you fucked me,” I said, as if he needed reminding.

“I did.”

“So . . .”

“You weren’t my charge then,” he said with a sigh, as if this whole conversation was growing very tiresome. He spread his arms out. “Now, you are. Meeting me before was just an . . . unfortunate coincidence.”

Ouch. Way to knock a girl when she’s down.

“But the day of The Undoing—” I frowned, “you saved me from becoming a human pancake. That’s a very guardian angel thing to do, assuming I believed in such a thing.”

He tilted his head and, just like that, guardian angel or not, I felt like his prey again. “So it would seem.”

“What were you doing there that day then? And why did you save me if I wasn’t even your . . . charge?”

“I was seeing to a different charge.” He sniffed, then drummed his fingers soundlessly on the booth. “And then you were there, and I just . . . stopped you.”

“How many charges do you have?”

“One at a time.”

“Say I believe you; how long will you be my guardian angel?”

He shrugged. “Until my job is finished.”

“What exactly is your job? Have I always had a guardian angel?” I asked, slowly starting to come around to the fact that maybe he wasn’t fucking with me. “And also, angels are actually real? Does that mean that there’s a heaven and hell? Is hell different from the world that opened up in The Undoing?” I leaned over the bar, considering, “Is this hell?”

“You’re a lot chattier than you were earlier. I think I preferred you then.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He exhaled, closed his eyes, then leaned his head back against the booth, exposing the dark tattoos that lined the column of his neck. “No, not as you know them but, yes, there are dead people who take on . . . jobs of sorts. I don’t know, I don’t know, definitely not.”

It took me a moment to track which answer went with which question, especially because he conveniently ignored the first two. “How can you not know if hell is real but also be sure this isn’t it.”

He swallowed, and I hated how intently my eyes tracked the movement. “I’ve been to realms far worse than this one. So either this isn’t hell, or the definition of hell as you know it is an incorrect one.”

I walked to the door, turned the sign back to closed, locked it, and then sat at the booth opposite of him. “Why didn’t Sora see you? And why can I?”

“I don’t know.” He opened his eyes, tilting his head until his stare latched onto mine. “ You’re not even supposed to be able to see me. You shouldn’t be able to see Claudine or Greta either. And I sure as hell don’t why you’re able to. You shouldn’t have even remembered our . . . encounter last week, or at least not that I was the one you had it with anyway. Like I said, you’re an unusual girl, Mareena. It’s a bit agonizing, but I imagine it has something to do with The Undoing. You must have absorbed some shadow magic that day, and it’s given you this unfortunate sixth sense into the world of the dead.”

“Ren and Lenora saw you.”

His brows furrowed.

“The couple from the other night. They,” I felt the blush creeping up my neck, “the ones that invited us to the private room.” My stomach sank. “Oh god. Are they dead too?”

“Oh,” he said, “them. That night was different. I was on,” his nose scrunched up, “vacation of sorts.”

“Vacation? Guardian angels get vacations?”

“Why? Shouldn’t we? Or do you expect us to be worked to the bone?” He grunted. “Fecking capitalism. Doesn’t even stop when you’re dead, eh?”

“I don’t know, do you even have bones?” I took a sip of tea, less because I was thirsty and more for something to do. “So you can turn it on and off then? The seeing and not seeing you thing?”

He shook his head, then held up one finger. “The boundary between our worlds is thinnest on the anniversary of The Undoing,” he added a second, “Incendiary functions as a bit of a catalyst for shadow magic, which is what my power pulls from, making it an ideal space to be corporeal,” a third, “and I used up all of my strength to sustain my body in the human realm that night. I won’t be strong enough for another proper foray into the world for a very long time.”

“But you look more—” I studied him, searching for a word, “I don’t know, more solid than Claudine? Once I knew to look for it, I mean—she seemed more ephemeral than you do.” I kicked my foot out beneath the table, testing a theory, and winced when it crashed into his shin with a little more enthusiasm than I’d been intending. “Sorry. I can still touch you, I mean. Claudine couldn’t touch me.”

“You’re my charge,” he shrugged. “You’re the only one I can touch without using up power I don’t have. And like I said, you’re unusual, Agony.”

“Okay, Casper,” I shot back, “say I believe you,” I fidgeted with my ring, focusing on the familiarity of it. “Why do I have a guardian angel? Why now?”

Why not when I’d needed one most. Why not when I lost Amto Amani? Or Rina? Or when Sora and I were barely scraping by those first few years on our own?

Relative to the rest of my life, I was actually doing okay right now. I was stable—more or less anyway. There were so many people in need of protection and guidance more than me.

He was silent for what felt like a much longer time than it probably was. “I’m here to help you lead a better life. A happier one.”

“I . . .” Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that. “Um, what?”

“You don’t have enough fun, I’m here to help you live a better version of the life you’re currently living. To push you to do things.”

“I like my life.”

“Do you?” He didn’t ask the question like it was an accusation or a challenge, but for some reason I couldn’t shake the feeling that’s what it was anyway. Then he reached forward, pointing to the space between my eyebrows. “Because you’ve also had that particular frown on your face all day. You seemed much more relaxed, some might even say happy, last week.”

“Last week was a kind of vacation for me, too,” I said. “And you’re starting to sound suspiciously like one of those guys who goes around telling women that they look prettier when they smile.”

“Your frown is just as pretty as your smile, Agony.”

“Stop calling me that.” I stood up, glaring down at him, as frustration flared from my chest to my feet.

“There she is,” he said, his mouth curving into a vicious grin. “I don’t think I will, actually. Now that I know it brings that out of you.”

“We can’t all just go fucking strangers outside of demon clubs every day of the week you know,” I said, ignoring his comment. “I have responsibilities. Not every single day has to be filled with euphoria.”

“Euphoria?” he asked. “Was last week euphoric for you then?”

“Oh, shut up.” I grabbed my empty teacup and took to tidying up the place. “My point is, I don’t want a . . .” I gestured at him. “One of you. A guardian angel. I’m good. Go fix someone else’s life. Someone who needs your . . . services.”

“That’s not quite how it works. I’m tethered to you until my job is done.”

“You’re what?”

“Tethered to you.” He shrugged. “Like it or not, I’m here until I’m called away. Can’t leave your side for extended periods of time. Consider this the official notice of your life audit. See,” he smirked, “even in my world it holds true—the only things you can count on are death and taxes. I just happen to have one foot in each field at the moment.”

“I’m happy,” I shot back as I made my way behind the corner. With a huff, I started washing the dishes that were already clean, just for want of something to do other than look at him. “Overjoyed, some might say.”

“Clearly,” he said with a sardonic look. Then, after a moment, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the booth. “Okay then, prove it.”

“I—what?”

“Show me what a day in your life looks like. What’s that phrase humans started using a while back?” He narrowed his eyes. “What sparks joy for you, Agony?”

“Definitely not that nickname.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Joy—perhaps not. But it definitely sparks something, and for now, I’ll take what I can get.”

I scrubbed the mug, taking my frustration out on the poor ceramic.

“Claudine and Greta weren’t wrong,” he said, his face two inches from mine as he leaned over the counter, studying me.

I jumped at his sudden proximity and soap suds went flying like splattered paint, all over my shirt.

“Life is wasted on the living.” His shoulders sank slightly, not in a release of tension, but like something was weighing them down. “You don’t even understand what a gift it is. To be alive.”

“What do you want me to do, go back to Incendiary and spend my days getting high on pheromones and mood lighting?”

“No, not that place. Like I said,” he gestured to himself, “I’m off limits to you now that we have a . . . working relationship. You can’t fuck your auditor, and I’m not entirely convinced you’ll have the restraint to resist me once your inhibitions are lowered.”

I bit the inside of my cheeks, a half-assed attempt to hold in my retort.

Truth was, it was possible he was right.

As annoying as I currently found him, he was also just as delectable looking as he’d been last week. And once Incendiary worked its magic, who knew whether I could keep my desire from leaking out all over him.

“Life isn’t supposed to be sunshine and rainbows every day you know?” I said instead. “And this whole guardian angel scheme sounds a lot like that toxic positivity bullshit plaguing the world before The Undoing. Who gets to decide how I’m supposed to live my life? Who told you to come to fix something that isn’t broken?”

He pressed his hands to his chest in mock surprise. “Did you just ask to speak to my manager, Agony?”

I considered him for a moment. “Do you have a manager? Is there, like, a head guardian angel or something? Do you have colleagues? Could I get a different one? Someone less . . . insufferable.”

Read: someone who hasn’t already been inside me or featured heavily in my fantasies this past week.

“Unfortunately, we’re stuck with each other for the foreseeable future.” He shot me a wicked smile that did unfortunate things to the knots in my lower belly. “Like I said, we’re tethered.” He took a deep, dramatic breath, as if he found me just as tiresome as I found him—except for the fact that while I was radiating anger, he appeared deeply amused. “Look, do I seriously look like a harbinger of toxic positivity to you?”

No.

But, as I’d already noted, he didn’t exactly look like an angel either. He was walking sex on a stick, and I’d have way sooner believed him to be the devil.

Then again, according to most lore, Lucifer was an angel too.

“I’m not asking you to smile until your depression disappears. I’ve been dead a long time but, believe it or not, I do remember that life wasn’t all, what did you call it—sunshine and rainbows? I’m simply asking you to show me around a day in your life. It’s so rare that I get to converse with someone on the job. This could be fun, if you let it. At least for me anyway. What makes you tick? What makes you happy? Like I said, consider today an audit. The faster you appease me, the faster I’m out of your hair.” He leaned in closer, “Assuming that’s what you really want, of course. Not that you’ll get much of a choice either way.”

“Very much,” I said, my tone clipped, though I couldn’t bring myself to meet his stare. Those eyes had an unpredictable effect on my brain.

“Great.” With a clap of his hands, he ushered me from behind the counter. “Let’s take the day off work then, go do something more enjoyable than . . . this.”

“I can’t just leave.”

“Got to say, Agony,” he surveyed the empty restaurant. “Don’t think anyone will miss you anytime soon.”

I couldn’t exactly argue with that, and maybe the sooner I did as he asked, the sooner I’d be rid of him. I had just been complaining about wanting more company, hadn’t I? “Fine. How does this work then? What do you want to do?”

“Good question,” he considered. “My top choices for fun have always been vices, and,” he scanned me head to foot, “like I said, we’re keeping things professional. So why don’t you show me what an ideal afternoon looks like for you. Seems like as good a place as any to start, doesn’t it?”

“Vices? You don’t really fit the angel mold. Not exactly what I would expect from an angel anyway.”

That wicked smirk again. “Maybe you need to adjust your expectations.”

“So, what? I’m just supposed to wander around town with some dude that only other random ghosts and I can see?”

“Phantoms. And yes, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

I stalled, not because I was against the plan, but because now that I was thinking about the things I liked to do best, I realized how long it had been since I’d done them.

We were well into paddleboarding season, and I hadn’t been out once yet this year. In fact, I hadn’t been out last summer either.

And I hadn’t gone swimming in the lake or gotten exuberantly drunk with Sora while we watched seals and sea lions chase salmon down at the Locks in ages.

Hell, even my biggest me-time hobby, reading, has been conspicuously absent from my life recently.

All my time went to managing Frank’s, lingering at the med center, and volunteering with whatever else was needed at any given time in the community. Trying to keep people alive and staying as busy as possible so that the chaos of this new world didn’t force me into an isolated cave of doom.

“Tell you what,” Kieran said, probably sensing that I was starting to spiral into a zone very far from joy, “why don’t we start out simple?”

I glanced up at him. “Simple is good.”

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes, Agony.”

I exhaled sharply at the ridiculous nickname but did as he asked. “Now what?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tsked, “patience is a virtue.”

“Thought you said vices were more your speed.” My eyes sprang open. “What’s the afterlife like?”

He shook his head like I was a child who’d stepped out of line. “Let’s get this out of the way now—we’re not doing the ‘twenty questions about what happens when you die’ thing. Anything you ask me about death, or my job will just be met with silence.” He sighed. “Besides being forbidden, that’s not why I’m here—and there’s no use lingering on death and what comes next when my whole purpose right now is to get you to live in the moment. To enjoy your life while you have it—the good and the bad.” When I opened my mouth to argue, he added, “Close your eyes, no talking.”

Jaw clenched, I did as he asked, though I didn’t see the point in hanging out with my guardian angel if I couldn’t even probe him about his death and what came after . . . this.

“Now,” he said, tone playful, “try to picture yourself the last time you were doing something just for you. Not for your restaurant, not for that shabby little center you pretend is a hospital, not because someone asked or forced you to do it. Something you did for yourself, nobody else. Picture it. Your body feels light, the tension in your shoulders is drained away, that perpetual scowl nowhere in sight.”

I popped open one eye. “Don’t push it.”

“Eyes closed, Agony. You want me gone, then you need to do things my way.”

I groaned but did as he asked. Demanded.

“Where are you?”

Heat exploded in my belly when the image of Kieran outside Incendiary, bent on his knees as he ducked under my dress shot into my brain like a bullet.

He cursed. “Whatever has that blush on your cheeks, clamp it down. We are keeping this PG, Agony.”

The fact that he could see my blush just made my cheeks heat more. “In the water,” I shot out, pulling the first non-sex-related activity from my arsenal.

“Like a bathtub?” he asked, his pitch rising in surprise.

I snorted. “No, the lake. On my paddleboard.”

“Right. And that’s . . . different than a surfboard, I take it?”

“Yes, different than a surfboard. You stand on it and . . . paddle.” I opened my eyes, studying him. “How long exactly have you been dead?”

“Too long,” he said, brushing the question to the side, just as he had the others. “Sitting on a plank in the water seems an odd choice for what’s supposed to be an exciting bunk off work.” He mussed my hair in that way adults often did when they were trying to appease a child. “But okay, Agony. Let’s go take a drift on your board thing.” Then, in an aside he added, “And maybe after we can have a discussion about what, exactly, constitutes a craic.”

I fixed my hair. “Are the dead always this judgy?”

“No.” He smirked. “Consider yourself lucky. You could’ve gotten stuck with one of the old boring guardians.”

“Maybe boring suits me.” I shot him a smirk. “Feel free to swap charges with another guardian at any time, Casper.”

“No.” His eyes dropped to my mouth, where they lingered for a beat. “I most definitely won’t be doing that.”