Reaper (End of Days)

Chapter Four

Grim determination flowed through Andy’s veins as she stepped towards the Were. Her non-human instincts were in full force. Its lifeline was bright red, ready to be reaped. Trouble was, the soul was still firmly embedded in the body, and she knew from the look in its eye that it wasn’t giving it up without a fight.
She grinned. Just the way she liked them.
Time slowed to a crawl as the creature barreled towards her. She dropped to one knee, the other leg stretched out for balance, as it sailed over her. Spinning the sickle in her right hand she sliced across its belly. The contents of its abdomen evacuated the premises in a torrent of blood and heavier things.
Andy ignored it as it thudded to the ground to twitch its last. The soul and the body were separate, and that was all she cared about. Most corpses tended to twitch a little before they realized they were dead.
She turned her attention on the other wolves. Some of the humans were already dead—there was nothing she could do about that. All she could do was protect those that still lived. Muscles filled with the power of her calling, Andy swept through them like a hurricane.
Her blades sliced and diced, ripped and danced, as she caught fur and bone alike, slicing through the body to catch the soul inside.
Within seconds she stood in a pile of lupine bodies. Her eyes were flat and unemotional as she watched the remaining wolves beat a hasty retreat. She didn’t blame them. Vamps and Weres—both thought they were the top of the food chain. Did them good to come across something more powerful…something they couldn’t beat, couldn’t kill.
Slowly she became aware of her ragged breathing, and the pain streaking like wildfire down her arm. She wrinkled her nose as she looked at her shoulder. “Dammit...”
The bullet had ripped through the fabric, and from the feel of it, was still lodged in her flesh. Great, surgery before lunch. She sighed. She needed a vacation. Somewhere hot. She’d heard Hawaii was nice this time of year.
“Here, you’re bleeding. Let me.”
A voice at her side made Andy jump a little. She turned and looked up into warm eyes. A smear of blood marked his cheek, but Andy was caught instead by the small laughter lines at the corners of his eyes. He must have smiled a lot at some point. The desire to get him to smile at her was nearly overwhelming.
“This? It’s just a scratch.”
She flinched as he slapped a field dressing over her arm and applied pressure. To her, it was little more than a hole in her skin. She wouldn’t call it a wound. Such a name gave it an importance that was unwarranted. Whatever she did—dressed it or allowed it to bleed—nothing untoward would happen. No matter how much blood she lost, she wouldn’t bleed out.
“Just a scratch, huh?”
His lips quirked into a half smile. The expression transformed his harshly handsome face into something that took Andy’s breath away. Oh, for God’s sake girl, get a grip. He’s a good-looking guy and you’re an intelligent woman. No need to start thinking with your damn ovaries.
“I suppose if you lost your leg, you’d claim it was a mere flesh wound, eh?”
“Something like that.”
Her smile turned into a hiss of pain as he pressed hard onto her arm. It hurt like a bitch, but her reaper physiology only needed a little help. Already the bleeding had stopped, and she could feel the skin starting to close. She could feel something in there, which meant she was going to have to open it up later to get the damn thing out. Trust her to get hit by the only shotgun in the group, just her luck.
“How’s it feel?” His pale eyes studied her with a perception Andy found disturbing and thrilling at the same time. It was like he could see right through to her soul. If she even had one…the jury was still out on that. Still she had a feeling that, of all the people she’d come across in the last ten years, Mason was the one who would see past her human disguise to the real woman beneath.
She wiped her blades off on the nearest furry carcass with swift swipes and sheathed them with efficient movements. They slid back into place with a satisfying click. Waving his hand away, she gingerly peeled back the field dressing to look. As she’d suspected the ragged tear in her skin was closed and fresh, pink skin had taken its place. She flashed him a smile as she dropped the dressing back into place.
“Good as new, thanks.”
Mason arched an eyebrow. “What, no pain? Feeling dizzy, anything like that?”
She gave him a long look. “Not human, remember?”
“Hmm...you still bleed like the rest of us.”
His voice was low as he looked around the small group. They were scattered around the scene of their showdown with the wolves. A couple just lay on their backs, staring up at the sky as they dragged harsh breaths of air into their lungs.
“Yeah. So do wolves.”
Mason frowned, looking at the small pile of lupine bodies in front of them. “That’s odd. They normally turn human again when you kill them.”
Surprise filled Andy, but she hid it as she looked sideways at him. She’d under-estimated him. Again. After seeing the way he had the town set up, she should know better. “They do. Well spotted. I take it you’ve killed a few in your time?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Spent a couple of years on the road before settling down. Traveled with a witch for six months…seen just about everything that’s out there.”
A witch. It made sense now. The defenses at the town weren’t random—they were planned with experience of protecting such a location.
“I saw. Nice touch with the devil’s trap on the main gate. Almost didn’t spot that. Good setup, I’m guessing you’re ex-military?”
Surprise filled his eyes. “You saw that? It’s invisible.”
“To a human maybe. As we’ve already established, I’m not human.”
“Good point. What are you?”
Blunt and to the point. She liked that in a guy. The smile that had been trying to break free for the last couple of minutes spread across her lips. She tapped the side of her nose. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”
Mason looked at her for a long moment, the corners of his lips twitching suspiciously. Then, as though he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he burst into laughter. “Oh, I intend to, sweetheart, I intend to.”
Andy’s heart, an organ she’d long thought dead, skipped at the warm smile and flirtatious look on his face. Oh hell, this man could charm the birds from the trees if he wanted. A second later though, it was gone as he flicked a glance down at her arm. His jaw tightened, and she could sense the inner battle raging from the tenseness of his body.
“You should come back with us. You know…in case that gets infected.”
“Breaking your own rules, Mason? Tsk, tsk. Shame on you.” She softened her refusal with a smile. “I’ll be okay. You get your guys back to safety before the rest of this lot come looking for their friends.”

“Of all the stubborn, mule-headed, bloody stupid…”
Bloody women. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them and most of the time they drove normal, sensibly minded guys completely insane.
“You aright, hun?” Cleaning tables on the other side of the room, Valerie paused and looked up at his outburst.
He grimaced as he leaned back in his chair. Maps of the local area spread over the table in front of him, highlighted by a shaft of sunlight from a nearby window. He watched, his thoughts in turmoil, as dust-motes danced in the sun.
He couldn’t concentrate. All he could see was the blood running down Andy’s arm. She was paranormal. What type Mason didn’t know—his usual acuity in spotting what a person really was seemed absent in this particular case. Whatever she was, so far she hadn’t harmed any of them.
In fact, she not only had not harmed anyone in town but she’d come riding to the rescue when they were in trouble like some kind of white knight. Mason sighed and ran his hands across the short stubble on his scalp. The way she moved… Pure lethality and grace in motion. Like a combination of a ninja and the hottest super model he’d ever seen all rolled into one uber-sexy package. His perfect woman…and he’d let her go injured into the wilds alone. What kind of f*cking idiot was he?
“Nothing. Just a little tired, that’s all.”
Valerie looked less than convinced. Giving the table in front of her a last swipe with her cloth she picked up the bottle of cleaner and headed towards him.
“Mister-I-don’t-need-sleep-invincible-Mason-Callahan is tired?” She plonked the bottle and cloth down on the table and flopped onto the seat in front of him. “Yeah, right. Try something believable...like…you moonlight as Santa Claus. That I might believe.”
He gave her a blank look, but the expression on her face said she wasn’t having any of it. He swore. The vicious curse did nothing but elicit laughter from the blond bar-keeper.
“It’s that girl, isn’t it? The one that was in here last night. What was her name...Andrea or something?”
“Andy,” he replied begrudgingly. No point in trying to hide anything. If V was confronting him about it, then she already had the answers. Just like a woman to work that way, and V was as manipulative as they came.
He sighed and rearranged his maps for the tenth time since opening them up. He was trying to plot a route to the nearest town. Something that wouldn’t leave them in the open too long, was on the least blocked highways and avoided both the local Werewolf packs and Vampire nests. That just left the other stuff to worry about—wandering Were-packs, nomadic creatures like banshees and plain weird shit he didn’t have a name for.
“Andy. I knew it was A something. Julie says she was out there today.” V ran her finger along a deep grove in the tabletop. “Said you lot would have bought the farm if she hadn’t turned up.”
Mason just nodded.
“Had us surrounded. Must have been stalking us for a while. I just didn’t see it. Julian broke formation, so they got to him first. They were about to take us all out when she showed up. Took on three herself, like there was no stopping her.”
He shook his head, still amazed at what he’d seen. “The rest ran. Like they were scared shitless of her. Don’t blame them, I would’ve been too.”
Valerie looked up, her expression serious. “So, what do we think? Vampire?”
He shook his head. “Not the right vibe for a Vamp.”
“Something worse?”
“Worse than a Vamp?”
Mason chuckled, but Valerie’s words struck a chord deep within him. There was something dangerous about Andy. Something Werewolves ran from, something he was sure would scare the un-dead crap out of Vampires too. It was the same thing that called out like a siren to him.
He stood in a lithe movement and gathered his maps.
“She helped us, and she got hurt. Wouldn’t come into town because of our rules. That doesn’t sit right with me. Human or not, the last thing anyone needs out there is to be bleeding from a fresh wound. I’m gonna go look for her…she’s on foot. Can’t have gotten far.”

“F*cking…hell!”
The sound of Andy’s curses reverberated back at her, echoed nicely by the concrete of the old bridge she’d made camp under. There was a small tent in the backpack next to her sleeping bag but she rarely bothered to unpack it unless the weather was crappy.
More curses spilled from her lips as she glared at the bloody mess that was her shoulder. Small knife in her hand, not one of her sickles, she squinted and tried to spot the pellet she knew was in there.
“Stupid cow. You should have dug it out there and then, not let it heal over.”
Gritting her teeth, she probed with the knife again. Just because she couldn’t die didn’t mean she couldn’t feel pain. Right now, she was feeling shed-loads of it. Her blade scraped against bone, sending razor sharp needles of pain through her, and twisted her gut into a cat’s cradle of bile and nausea.
Not throwing up, not throwing up, she chanted the mantra in her head as she tried to force the feeling back down. She hated being sick. Hated it with a passion. Always had, and always would. Leaning back against the rough concrete wall, she tried to use the cold surface to leech some of the heat from her body as she waited for the feeling to subside. By slow degrees it did, until she could think straight again. Grimly she gathered the courage to try again. Finally she lifted her head to study the edges of the wound again.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Andy jumped, and lost her grip on the knife.
“Oh bollocks! Look at what you made me do,” she snapped, searching in the folds of her sleeping bag for the bloodied knife. It came away from the fabric with a wet smear that made her wince. “Great, that’s gonna need sponging off or the flies will have a field day. What the hell are you doing out here anyway? Thought you’d be tucked up all nice and safe in your little town?”
Mason stalked into the circle of light cast by the small fire. “Looking for you, that’s what. Wanted to make sure you weren’t doing anything stupid…like trying to carve up your arm with a god-damned butcher’s knife!”
She frowned at the blade in her hand. Sure, it was a little on the long side but it was the only straight blade she had. Her sickles were sharper, but knowing her luck, she’d probably amputate her own arm.
“Huh? This thing? It’s nowhere near heavy enough for a butcher’s knife.”
Ignoring him as he squatted in front of her, she dug the knife into her arm again. The pellet was still in there…she could feel it.
After her second bout of swearing Mason reached out and plucked the knife from her hand. “Here. Let me. I’ll make less of a mess than you are. You trying to end up with a scar?”
Andy shrugged. “Wouldn’t make a difference. I don’t scar.”
“Yeah, right. Everyone scars…only things that don’t are Vamps. And you aren’t a Vamp. I might be human, but I’m not stupid.”
His voice was amused as he studied her arm. Light from the fire behind him caught the tips of his cropped hair, casting the hard plains of his face into shadow and giving him a fiery-red halo. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Felt nice to let someone look after her for a change.
“I could be a day-walker Vampire.”
He chuckled. “Sorry sweetheart. This is reality, not a Hollywood blockbuster. Only Vamps we got are the ones who don’t tan well.”
Fingers moving gently, he probed the ragged edges of the wound in her arm. Then he paused. “This looks different. What have you been doing to it?”
“Doing to it? You mean, other than digging around in it with a sharp implement?”
It was sarcastic and she knew it. But Andy couldn’t help it. She’d always had a sharp tongue and spending years traveling with only herself for company…that was bound to warp even the healthiest of minds. She didn’t want to think too closely on her mental state. If a psychiatrist assessed her, she was sure the words homicidal and possibly fruit-loop would feature heavily in their report.
He shot her a look.
Andy grinned, unrepentant. “What? Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer. Owww! Lay off with the squeezing, would you? That bloody hurts.”
“Cry-baby. It’s just a scratch. Remember?”
He ignored her glare with an innocent expression and carried on manipulating around the wound. Blood oozed thickly down her arm.
“It was just a scratch. Earlier. That was before I opened it up to dig a hole the size of freaking China to find the pellet one of your friends shot me with.”
“It’s the wrong shape.”
“What do you mean it’s the wrong shape?”
Andy winced and tried to wriggle away as he put more pressure on her upper arm and dug in with the knife. Bloody hell, with friends like this, who needed enemies? Pain lanced down her arm as he went after the pellet. Fire and ice shot through her body and brought a slick of sweat to her skin. She clamped her jaw shut to keep from crying out until she was sure the pressure was going to crack her teeth.
“Ahh, there it is.” Mason sat back on his heels, the small pellet between his bloodied thumb and forefinger. With satisfaction, he threw it into the fire.
“It’s the wrong shape for China. So, what do you mean by you opened it up? Had it already scabbed over?”
She recognized a leading question when she heard one. Humans healed slowly but still, most paranormal races would show some sign of such a recent injury—a healing wound, or a scar—something.
“Not scabbed over, no.” She paused. Was she ready to tell him what she was? He already knew she wasn’t a Vampire so she couldn’t give that excuse. Was being the physical embodiment of death worse than being a blood-sucking fiend from beyond the grave? What the hell…he already knew she wasn’t human. “It had healed over.”
The silence between them stretched out. His gaze locked with hers, and she couldn’t look away. Even if the bombs had fallen all over again, she wouldn’t have been able to move a muscle.
His expression was level and emotionless, apart from his eyes. His eyes blazed with suspicion and a deep, dark something Andy wasn’t sure she was reading right. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was…interest?
That couldn’t be right, even when she’d been human men had never found her interesting, much less attractive. Too short, too skinny, pale skin, dark hair. An all-round plain Jane.
Great. The first guy she was interested in and who just might be interested in her, and she was about to tell him she was the female version of the Grim Reaper.
The battle continued to wage in his eyes, the knuckles of the hand that held the knife white with pressure. His voice was tight and contained.
“I’ll ask again, for the last time. What are you?”

Mason’s heart did a tango in his chest as he waited for her answer. He’d come out to look for her because he’d been worried. Concerned about her safety out here all alone and injured. Concerned about a woman who’d taken down three fully shifted Lycan’s without so much as breaking a sweat.
Well done, Mason. That’s what thinking with your prick does for you.
Her dark eyes flicked to the blade in his hand. One by one he forced his fingers to relax. She might be about to tear his face from his skull but he felt a strange need not to scare her. She was small, female…and that delicate curl in the curve of her neck was driving him nuts. Of all the women he’d met—why did the only one that sparked an interest in him have to be a paranormal?
“You sure you want to know?”
Her arched eyebrow was a challenge he couldn’t ignore. Throwing caution to the wind he flicked his wrist and half threw-half thrust the knife into the dirt by his knee. With the speed she’d displayed earlier, no knife was going to help if she wanted to hurt him.
“The truth,” he said firmly. He’d had enough of being given the run around by this one. However pretty she was, with her masses of dark hair and soft lips that made a man think wicked things, he had a limited supply of patience.
Again that maddening half smile flirted with the corner of her lips. “The truth? You can’t handle the truth.”
Amusement rolled through him at her quick-fire reply. For a moment all of it fell away—the war, the hard fight for survival since, the fact the town was running out of food. For a few blessed seconds he could forget and just enjoy being in her company.
“You ever going to give me a straight answer, or just more movie quotes?”
“Depends.” She grinned, a quick flash of teeth against her pale skin.
He knew she wasn’t a Vampire, but still Mason did a quick dental check. No elongated canines or anything that could be remotely described as a fang.
“Depends on what?”
At his words the atmosphere between them changed. Her eyes darkened and he was stuck, caught in a web of fascination. Heat and smoke coiled in puppy-dog brown, changing her eyes from pretty to breathtaking. Need and desire hit him low down in the gut, sending shivers along every inch of his skin.
“On whether you kiss me or not.”