Rogue Rider

Twenty-six

Harvester couldn’t get out of Ares’s house fast enough. She all but ran down the hall, knocked over Ares’s servants in the great room, and slammed Reaver out of the way as she darted through the front door.

“Harvester!” Reaver’s booming voice followed her as she hit the steps off the porch. “Fallen!”

She paused as the spark required to flash out of there skimmed over her skin. “What?” she snarled. She didn’t even know why she’d answered. But, she thought, maybe it was because this would be the last time she saw him.

“What’s going on in there?” Reaver strode over and stood imperiously before her.

“I just made sure Reseph and Jillian will be taken care of.”

“Taken care of?”

“Fuck off, Reaver,” she sighed. “I’m tired of your constant needling. Just give me sixty seconds of peace. Can you do that?”

“My needling?”

A breeze spun up, bringing with it the fresh scent of the sea, the sand, the olive groves that dotted the island. It was the scent of freedom and life. She inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. She wanted to remember this forever.

“Harvester?” Reaver grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “What is wrong with you?”

She wrenched free of his grasp. “Nothing. Leave me alone. Can’t you take a hint? Or, you know, a direct command?”

Reaver stiffened at her not-so-veiled reference to his inability to follow orders, a character flaw that had gotten him booted from Heaven several years ago. “Something’s going on. Does it have to do with the Horsemen?”

“No, it has nothing to do with them.” She sniffed. “Which means you have no right to question me.”

The sapphire glints in Reaver’s eyes hardened into crystal shards. “You’ve done a lot of things to me that you had no right doing, so you might not want to go there.”

She spread her wings, letting the breeze ruffle the sensitive tips. This would be the last time she felt the wind on her skin, in her hair. This would be the last time the sun touched her body. The dark vibration she’d felt in her soul over the last couple of days grew stronger, more urgent. She had to go. Punishment was always worse if someone had to be sent to drag you back.

She inhaled again, recording all the scents to memory. Including the spice that was uniquely Reaver. She eyed him, wondering if she had time to cash in on the day of pleasure he owed her. What a perfect way to go out—with a bang.

The vibration inside her grew more insistent, as if someone had stomped on the gas pedal and the engine responsible was revving at the edge of burnout.

So much for good-bye sex.

“Take care of them, Reaver. Keep their children safe.” She wished she could have held Logan just once. Yeah, it was stupid of her to allow sentimentality to soften her now, when she needed to be tougher than ever, but it was just so unfair that the baby boy was here because of her, and she couldn’t even rock the child in her arms for a moment.

Then again, she’d accomplished everything she’d set out to do. At this point, whatever happened was out of her hands.

She sparked the energy she needed to flash herself to Sheoul, but in the split second it took to open the connection, Reaver grabbed her again.

“Stop!” He got up in her face, his jaw set in stubborn determination. He had always been magnificent in his anger. “If you tell me what’s going on—”

“What? You’ll help?” She shoved him, maybe not with as much force as she could have, but with enough that he stumbled backward. “As if I’d believe that. And even if I did, I don’t need it.”

Reaver threw up his hands. “I give up. Go be bitter somewhere else.” He spun on his heel and stalked toward the house.

The breeze kicked up again, and so did the dark vibration, this time to a paralyzing level. No, oh… no.

She wheeled around to face two massive angelgoths—fallen angels who had been mutated into skeletal monsters. At one time, they’d been like her… until they’d done something that got them punished with eternal ugliness, slavery, and misery.

Harvester would be lucky to merely share their fate. Hers was going to be so much worse.

“I was just going,” she said, but they didn’t allow her to flash. One sank his clawed hands into her skull, hooking her as if she were a fish. Pain and blood exploded, and all she could hear were her screams and the crunch of bone.

And then she was lifted by her head and flashed into the dark depths of hell.

Straight into Satan’s living room.

An indescribable wave of terror shredded her insides as the king of all demons rose slowly from his throne of bones, his massive wings extending all the way to the thirty-foot ceiling. Punching up through his luxurious mane of black hair, two razor-sharp horns swiveled like tiny radar dishes. His clawlike fingernails scraped the arm of his chair, and another wave of terror slithered over her skin.

“Harvester.” His voice was cold, like a long-dead corpse.

Trembling so hard her teeth rattled, Harvester doubled over in a deep bow. “Hello, Father.”

Harvester’s screams were still ringing in Reaver’s ears as he blasted the remaining angelgoth’s chest with a stream of what amounted to supercharged napalm. The evil bastard burst into flames and screeched loud enough to make Reaver’s eardrums ache.

The creature somehow doused the flames and returned fire, snapping a long, whiplike rope of electricity. Reaver dove out of the way, hitting the ground in a roll and popping to his feet. He summoned an elemental sword and swung. The blade, capable of utilizing the natural elements around it, took on the power of the sea and bashed the evil being with the force of a tidal wave.

The angelgoth’s body hurled backward and crashed into an ornamental pillar, shattering the thing into a million pieces and a shower of dust.

The sound of running footsteps joined the sound of the angelgoth’s groans, and then Ares, Than, and Limos were there.

“What the fuck?” Ares said, but Reaver didn’t give the warrior a chance to ask more questions. He grabbed the evil angelgoth by the throat and slammed him hard against another pillar.

“What did you do with Harvester?”

The thing smiled, its rotting lips pulling away from blackened teeth. “She… will… suffer.”

“Explain.” When the former angel said nothing, Reaver slammed him into the pillar again. “Where is she?”

The angelgoth shuddered, and in Reaver’s fist, he turned to ash. A ripple of sensation skittered over the back of Reaver’s neck, and he wheeled around to the source of the malevolent vibe.

The huge male fallen angel Reaver had seen with Gethel materialized, dressed from head to toe in black leather, his bald head glinting in the sun. His wings, black and leathery, were spread wide, with sharp bone tips at the ends. Pointedly ignoring Reaver, he strode toward the manor, his spiked boots thumping on the stone pavers.

Thanatos moved to intercept the newcomer. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Hello, Horseman. I’m Revenant.” The male’s icy smile would flash-freeze a human. “I’m your new Watcher.”