Luke’s jaw locked. “I don’t really give a fuck what becomes of the Reaper. If you can get close to him, then you can get Amber away from him, correct?”
“Yes.” Luke hadn’t given him the answer he’d sought but…
“She’s what matters to me. Get her back for me, and you and I—we will deal.”
Interesting. “And the Reaper?”
Luke’s eyes heated. “If he’s touched her, then I’ll throw him in my prison and he will never get out.”
Fair enough. Smiling, Gregory held out his hand. “Deal?”
Luke’s fingers curled around his. “Deal.”
Satisfaction curled in his gut like a heavy snake. “You know…” Gregory murmured as his hand still gripped Luke’s. “I know one witch in particular who lives in the area. Marguerite has been in Florida for years. And she can search from above for us.”
Luke jerked his hand free of Gregory’s.
“Why don’t you use that dark power of yours?” Gregory pressed. “Call her in on the hunt…and let her know I’m on your side. She owes me, and Marguerite will come running to your aid so fast when she knows I’m here.” He smiled at Luke.
Smiled…
And plotted the bastard’s death.
Chapter Twelve
“So…what’s the deal with the scythe?” Amber’s index finger traced over the tattoo on Cass’s back. “Another gift from Luke?”
“Yes.”
Isn’t he the generous one? Only, Luke wasn’t. Not under normal circumstances. “Why did he give it to you?”
“Sometimes, it’s hard to get touching-close to my prey. When I can’t get physically close enough to my target, I can throw the scythe. It always finds its prey.”
So Luke had given him the magical scythe so that Cass would be even better at killing. “Always?” It never misses?
“Yes.”
Swallowing, she pulled away from him. A quick glance outside showed her that night had fallen. She knew that meant they’d be leaving soon. Running again. Amber rose from the bed and dressed. Her clothes were relatively blood free but Cass…
He rose, too, and he stared down at his body. “Think anyone will notice that my clothes are soaked in blood while I’m walking around town?”
She bit her lip, then waved her hand.
Instantly, fresh clothes appeared on his body.
Cass stiffened.
Well, hell, since he gets new clothes…She waved her hand and fresh clothes replaced her rather grimy garments.
“How’d you do that?” His voice rasped at her.
She offered him a wan smile. “Magic.” She’d been hauling that suitcase around before not because she needed the change of clothes—she’d been hiding the Blade of Truth in with the other garments. She’d lied when she gave him the story about the bag containing everything she owned. The bag had contained the thing of most value to her—the knife.
Suddenly, he was right in front of her. “You never told me…what you are.”
No, she hadn’t.
“Trust cuts both ways, you know.”
She supposed it did. “My mother was a fairy.”
Her father…he’d been something entirely different.
Shock filled his gaze. “Fairies haven’t been around for hundreds of years.”
Amber shrugged. “So I look good for my age.” Her head tipped back as she stared up at him.
“All of the fairies are dead.”
“All of the full blooded fairies are dead,” Amber corrected. “I’m still here. I just don’t have as much magic as I used to possess.” Due to the whole missing wings bit. “Once upon a time…” Wasn’t that how the best stories began? Or the worst ones? “Fairies had the purest magic in the world. They were supposedly the first of the ‘good’ paranormals. Always wanting to help people, always wanting to fix things.” To tinker with the world. She swallowed. “But then others found out that their magic could be taken, that it could be tapped if you cut the wings off a fairy. But what our enemies didn’t get—or maybe, maybe they just didn’t care—was that without our wings, the fairies died.”
He’d put his gloves back on. Her gaze lingered on those gloves as a lump rose in her throat.
Someone had cut off his hands…just as someone had cut off her wings.
Only… “I think those gloves are made of fairy wings.”
He stepped back. She stopped her lips from trembling and stared him in the eyes. “I knew it, the first time you touched my scars with them. It was like…a hum of power hit me.”
His gaze turned horrified.
“Fairy wings or angel wings…even before you touched me, I knew it had to be one or the other. Nothing else could harness power that way.”
He started to rip off the gloves.
“Stop.” Her heart hurt.
He’d gone pale. “How can you bear for me to touch you?”
“Some fairies…they gave up power from their wings willingly. To help others. Maybe…maybe that’s where your magic came from. Maybe a fairy wanted to help so she or he gave the magic that allows you to touch.” That was what she had to tell herself. “Without the gloves, you will kill everyone you touch.”
“But when you look at the gloves…”
She remembered what she’d lost.
“How did you survive without them?” His voice was gruff.
Forcing a smile, she said, “I told you…my mother was a fairy. My father was something quite different.”