A Shadow in the Reaping

"That depends on what you tell me about how and why you cast the spell, and what happened afterward."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "I just gave you my blood, said a bunch of stuff that I hoped wasn't gibberish and then you woke up. You said my name, I said some more crackpot shit then I smacked you in the head and took off. I left you with that grabby asshole and you two were the only ones I saw there. End of fucking story," I say as my hand snaps out and I grab my mug, downing the rest of my coffee even though it's still too hot and it burns my tongue. I clunk my mug onto the granite and glare at Ashen. "Satisfied?"

Ashen looks at me for a long moment. The only movement is the surging blood within his heart and the brightening glow of flame in his eyes. "Grabby?"

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. "Out of everything I just said, that is the thing you worry about? I could have made you into a two-headed snake and you're worried about a handsy human douchebag?"

"Yes, in fact," Ashen says, his voice menacing. The flame erupts in his eyes and smoke billows across the countertop. "What do you mean, handsy? He touched you?"

I smack my flat palm onto the granite and point in his Reaper face, my eyes glowing with red light. "You listen here, Reaper. I can look after myself. Which is exactly what I was going to do when you rudely interrupted me from my well-chosen meal of retribution."

"Maybe so, but I only did it to save you from a pack of werewolves," Ashen says with a smug expression as he leans forward in a challenge. I give a dramatic roll of my eyes and level him with a glare.

"Well riddle me this, batman. You were the last one of the two of us to see Jessie in the alley, so what did you see there, huh? Any werewolves when you woke up? Anyone watching the grandmaster smoke demon looming over the douchebag human as he pissed himself behind Cheese Louise? Interrogate that," I say, giving him a mic drop motion with my hand that turns into a middle finger as I sit back and cross my arms. I give Ashen my fiercest vampiric glare but I see a smile fighting to break free on his face. "Don't you dare."

"Don't what?" he asks, the smile brightening as he loses the battle to keep it at bay.

"Don't you laugh at me," I say, still trying to look serious even though part of me so wants to hear the sound of his laugh again. "I just dropped a mic on you. You're not allowed."

"Is that the rule? You never told me that rule."

"It's implied. Longstanding vampire tradition. Vampire drops mic, no laughing or arguing allowed. Vampire wins."

That does it. Ashen laughs. The sound bounds through the space around us, musical and warm. I wonder for the first time if he can sing. I imagine it would be a rich baritone, bright like brass in the sun.

"All right, vampire. You win. I did not see anyone else in the alley when I woke. There was no mist either. But that doesn't mean Semyon wasn't watching from nearby." Ashen is still smiling when he leans back and takes a sip of his coffee. He watches me for a moment with amusement still bright in his eyes as he takes a bite of his toast. He looks down at his phone, sliding it toward me. "I think this is worth checking out. Selborne Brickworks," he says, pointing to the map.

I run my hand across my arm, trying to smooth the goosebumps that erupt in my flesh as I look down at the dropped pin. "You think that's the one?"

"I did some digging. It was shut down in 2011 but was purchased two years ago by a company called Klyk Corp, a chemical engineering firm owned by Semyon Abdulov."

"Couldn't get much more likely than that," I say, zooming out of the map. "It's quite a drive though, and it's going to raise questions if I don't show up today in Sanford. Bian will probably hunt you down herself."

"I have no doubts about that. And Ediye would be fast on her heels I'm sure," Ashen says, draining his cup and taking both our mugs and his plate to the sink.

"We also can't really rock up there just the two of us all 'wassup bitches, we're here to check if all your hybrids have giant dicks'. We need a plan."

Ashen glances at me over his shoulder with a smile as the water cascades over the mugs, washing the last scents of coffee away. “Very true, but there’s another stop we can make that’s on our way back to Sanford. Before you woke, I found a potential co

I’m about to ask some questions when the smell of ci

"Is a half-pound of butter per piece of toast not enough? You have to eat it with a vat of icing and ci

"What do you mean?" Ashen replies as he sets the plate next to the mugs. I can sense the confusion in his voice. He turns the tap off, and then I hear it. A fluttering sound. Faint. Rapid. Like a hummingbird trapped behind a veil.

"Do you hear that?" I ask.

The world around us slows and speeds up, both in the same instant. I blink and when I open my eyes Ashen's palm is flat on the granite in front of me. I think that I could count every drop of water rolling down his skin.

In the next moment, his weight and momentum are crashing into me as he slides across the island that separates us. He knocks me from the chair. His arm folds around my waist as I fall backward and we strike the floor. Ashen takes the hit of the landing and we roll, enveloped by thickening smoke and the smell of cinders and ink. We come to a halt and within a beat of my heart Ashen's arm and his weight are gone. Sparks hiss as they die on the cold stone.

When I look up he's standing with his back to me. Smoke cascades from Ashen's shoulders in the shape of a wide set of wings. I’ve never seen him like this before, and I know on instinct it must be bad. Embers and licks of flame fall to the floor as the wings unfurl. I see his silver sword through the diaphanous black vapor flowing from his back like liquid. The hellfire burns bright across the metal he grips between his hands.

"Anu