I sputtered, my face heating. Didn’t everyone read at least some? How would I know if it were my thing or not if I didn’t try it?
Angel leaned to nuzzle my throat. “You can play with my tentacle anytime you want.”
A laugh burst out of me. “I just did.” I nudged his shoulder lightly, but my gaze drifted to the faint, shimmering thread only I could see, connecting him to the tingling presence lingering on the edge of my senses. Nox hadn’t left his perch above, but I could feel him linked to me as if he’d never left my side. “But seriously, what if I messed up something? I barely know what I’m doing.”
His playful expression softened. “How about you let Nat be the judge?” He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “See if he’ll meet us on the way. We’ve got a crime scene to break into.”
As we dressed, I pulled out my phone, my thumbs flying over the screen.
Can you look at a weave? I might have messed Angel up.
The reply was immediate:
Is he acting off?
No more than usual. But I might have shared my familiar with him?
Fifth and Portland, near the Commons. One hour.
We found him there, leaning against a tree that had long since been pulled across the Veil and arched into the air like a gnarled old witch’s hand. For a moment, he was just a man, tired eyes, a tweed jacket, looking like a weary academic. Then he stepped toward us, moving from the Veil’s influence into the mundane one, and the illusion shattered. The scholarly demeanor dissolved, replaced by the skeletal visage and dark, depthless wells of the Reaper’s black void of eyes.
Two more steps and he crossed the Veil again, becoming the man of bookstore mystery, making me wonder why he could only look human across the Veil.
“Did you see him change?” I asked Angel.
“No.”
“And he shouldn’t,” Nat added. “Only those on the verge of dying see a Reaper’s true form in this world.”
I gaped at my boyfriend. “Could have led with that before introducing us. Does that mean I’m going to die? I’ve seen him change several times!”
“Everyone does eventually,” Nat said. “You’ve been busy,” he added, though his focus was on Angel.
“Did I fuck it up?” I breathed, hoping he could undo anything I’d fumbled into.
He circled Angel, expression thoughtful. “Interesting.”
“What?”
“I feel fine,” Angel repeated.
“Who did the original cover-up?” Nat asked.
“A practitioner with the military,” Angel said.
“Hmm.”
That was not a reassuring sound. “They look terrible, don’t they?” I asked, desperate for a professional opinion. “All snagged and frayed?” As if the spells weakened his aura of life itself.
Nat stopped his circuit to peer at the zombie mark I’d rewoven. “Once cast, these spells are nearly impossible to remove. Slowing down the impact is the best most can do. But you… you’ve pulled all the venom out of this one. I would never have thought it possible. Fascinating.”
“Feels like being a bug in a specimen jar,” Angel grumbled, though he remained stoically still.
“It was a zombie spell, right? To drag his body back.” I prodded, my mind racing.
Nat threw me a beaming, unnerving smile. “Look how fast you learn. Yes, that was its function. But the underlayment was far more insidious. If his heart had faltered, it wouldn’t have just dragged him back, it would have stopped his heart preemptively, ensuring a fresh, compliant puppet.”
I flinched.Holy fuck.The sheer cruelty of it stole my breath. “And now?”
