Darkness Unbound

  “That I cannot tell you.”

  I raised an eyebrow—and felt somewhat surreal even as I did it. I mean, I was sitting here in the middle of McDonald’s with a reaper. The day could not get any weirder if it tried. “Cannot, or will not?”

  He studied me, and for the first time I noticed the hint of stubble around his chin. It made his face less perfect, and yet somehow more appealing.

  I blinked. A reaper appealing? Someone obviously needed to knock some sense back into me.

  “Cannot,” he said, eventually, “because I do not know who or what is responsible. But we will endeavor to find out.”

  I paused. “We?”

  “The Mijai.”

  “The what?”

  “Mijai,” he repeated. “We are the dark angels, the soldiers.”

  “Hence the sword.” And the winged tattoo. “But why would reapers need soldiers? Especially since reapers don’t take unwilling souls?”

  “Because, as I said, there are other things that do. The Mijai are responsible for stopping such thefts.”

  And for a whole lot more, I was betting. “Meaning someone screwed up big time when it came to that little girl.” I paused, taking another sip of Coke. “So is that why you were following me? Was I a suspect?”

  “How could I suspect you when I didn’t even know the soul had been stolen?”

  “Then why were you following me?”

  He hesitated and leaned back in his chair. If the sword across his back was giving him any discomfort, he certainly wasn’t showing it. In fact, it almost seemed an extension of his flesh—a metallic limb, of sorts.

  “Where did you get that necklace?” he countered.

  I blinked and automatically knew he wasn’t talking about Ilianna’s charm, but rather the gold filigree droplet I wore around my neck. It was shaped like two wings, and very much represented my heritage.

  “It was my father’s.” Apparently, he’d given it to my mom the night of my conception, and Mom had passed it on to me when I was old enough to start asking questions.

  “Indeed,” he said, and I had the distinct feeling it was information he already knew. “When?”

  “Twenty-eight years ago.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That is your age, yes?”

  “Why is my age important?”

  “It isn’t. I just want to talk to your father.”

  I nearly choked on my Coke. I coughed for several seconds—while he watched dispassionately—then somehow managed to say, “Well, I wish you luck with that.”

  “So you’re saying you’ve had no contact with him recently?”

  I swallowed a hiccup, then said, “I’ve had no contact with my father my entire life. He might have provided the seed that formed me, but that was his entire input.”

  “And yet he is apparently here in Melbourne.”

  “Well, if you know that, then you know a hell of a lot more about him than I do.”

  I didn’t even know what he looked like, other than the fact that he had violet eyes and silvery blond hair, just like me. Of course, Mom’s hair was also a silvery blond, but neither that nor the blue of her eyes was natural. As a Helki werewolf, she could subtly alter her appearance, and the silver and blue not only suited her psychic business better, but also enabled her to use her true form when she didn’t want to be noticed.

  Admittedly, she had tried to answer my questions about my dad, but the truth was, I was the result of a one-night stand, and Mom’s entire time with him had totaled little more than six hours. Hardly long enough to form any lasting impressions.

  I studied the reaper for a moment, wondering if he was telling the truth, then wondering what he’d have to gain by lying, and added, “Why do you think my father would even bother contacting me after all these years?”

  “He has come to Melbourne for a reason. We believe you might be that reason.” He shrugged—a small, economical movement.

  “On the other hand, he might just have come home to die.” After all, the Aedh only bred when they sensed their death was near, and while I was just over twenty-eight years old, that was merely a heartbeat in Aedh years.

  “That is also possible.”

  I finished the last of my Coke, then pushed the empty cup away and crossed my arms on the table—an action that brought me closer to the heat of him. It trembled across my skin in waves, warm and disturbing. But oddly, he had no scent. He might wear the flesh of a man, but he didn’t smell like one.

  He didn’t smell like anything, really. Not even the rain that still beaded his skin.

  “Meaning there are others like you out there searching for him?”

  He hesitated, then nodded—another brief but oddly lyrical movement.

  “But why? What has he done to incite such interest from the reapers?”

  “It’s not what he has done, but what he might do.”

  Frustration rolled through me, but there wasn’t much point in venting it. It wasn’t exactly wise to get annoyed at someone who could steal your life away between one heartbeat and the next. And though it was obvious he wanted to use me to get to my father, that wasn’t a comforting thought. Not when I knew so little about the reapers as a society or as individuals.

  “So what is he up to that’s causing you so much consternation?”

  He crossed his arms, and I had to resist the urge to let my gaze linger over the lean, muscular goodness such an action revealed.

  Damn it, I either needed to get to Franklin’s—a discreet, upmarket wolf club—or break my vow to stop using Tao. This was getting ridiculous.

  “To answer that,” he said, after considering me for entirely too long, “I really need to know just how much you know about us.”

  I replied, “As much as any half-Aedh knows.”

  “Which is not helpful, as I am not aware of what a half-Aedh might know.”

  I swear his lips twitched as he said it—almost as if he was restraining a smile. I wondered again if reapers were capable of amusement, or whether it was simply a function of hormones that—for some damn indefinable reason—seemed to find him attractive.

  But that could have been deliberate on his part. If he knew I was half Aedh, then he more than likely knew I was also half wolf, and the form he’d adopted could be an attempt to appeal to my more sensual nature. After all, the full moon was only a couple of days away, and for most werewolves this was the time of the moon heat.

  But I wasn’t a normal werewolf. My Aedh DNA had apparently curtailed much of my wolf heritage, and while I had werewolf sexual sensibilities and drive, the moon had no pull on me and didn’t force a shape change during her full bloom. Hell, I couldn’t take wolf shape anytime, no matter how hard I tried. And I’d certainly tried more than once.

  And yet, weirdly enough, I had inherited Mom’s Helki skill for face-shifting. I didn’t use it often, but I could, if I wanted to—and with a fair degree of effort—change basic things like hair, eyes, and facial structure. And like my mom, I could hold my altered shape for fairly long periods.

  Which was handy for fancy-dress occasions, but not much else.

  “Well,” I said, “this half-Aedh knows that reapers are soul guides. You take them to heaven or hell, depending on what their allotted fate is.”

  “We do not call it heaven or hell. Those are human terms.”

  “Then what do you call them?”

  “The light or dark path.”

  “Which is basically the same thing.”

  He merely shrugged, but something in the way he studied me suggested I was an idiot for believing that.

  Irritating, to say the least.

  “And is that the sum of your knowledge?” he asked.

  “I know there are gates between this world and the next—one for your so-called dark path, and one for the light. I know that Aedh priests used to guard them, but the priests no longer exist.” I eyed him for a moment. “Have the Mijai taken over that role?”

  He hesitated. “Not really. We hunt
what breaks through them, but we have no power over the gates themselves.”

  “But you’re reapers,” I said. “Reapers escort the souls from this world through the gray fields to the next. How can you not have power over the gates?”

  “As you said, the Aedh were the gatekeepers. We are merely the guides.”

  “So how do the guides get the souls through the gates if they have no power to open them?”

  Again his lips twitched. Part of me wished he’d smile for real. The other part was damn glad he didn’t. This man—this being—was dangerous enough.

  “The gates are attuned to souls and automatically open when one approaches. But the term gates is really a misnomer. Each gate is more a series of energy portals, not an actual structure.”

  “As you are not actual flesh?”

  “I am flesh as of this moment. I am as real as you.”

  “So why isn’t everyone in this place getting weirded out by the sword-carrying half-naked guy?”

  “Because they do not see my true form. They see what they expect to see—whatever that might be.”

  “But this isn’t your true form, is it? Reapers are energy beings, just as the Aedh are.”

  “It might be more accurate to call us shifters. We are all born with both an energy and a flesh form, whether Aedh or reaper. The reapers can take on other forms, however, to suit what their assigned souls expect. The Aedh cannot.”

  I nodded. The Aedh were also winged when they found flesh, which is why many people mistook them for angels. Thankfully, the wings were something we half-breeds missed out on. “As interesting as all this is, it’s not explaining why you’re so keen on tracking down my father.”

  He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his forearms comfortably on the table’s edge. The sheer force of the heat and energy radiating off him had pinpricks of power crawling across my skin—a sensation that was uncomfortable but not exactly unpleasant.

  And yet it scared the hell out of me. Uncle Quinn was the most powerful being I’d ever met, but I might as well compare a bonfire to the sun.

  “Your father,” he said slowly, “is on a very dangerous mission.”

  “Well, that certainly explains everything.” Not.

  He didn’t seem to get the sarcasm, and continued in the same flat tone, “The portals, as I said, are set to open automatically for an approaching soul, but they can be temporarily opened via other means. Magic originating from this world has been the chief offender, but if enough power is gathered from the dark path, that gate can be opened by those on the other side.”

  I frowned. “How? I mean, hell is hell. You know, a place filled with suffering, pain, and all that. How would they even have time to gather such power?”

  “As I’ve already said, hell is a human term and not truly accurate. The dark path is more a place where the sins of a soul’s lifetime must be atoned for before he or she can move on, and that does not always involve suffering.”

  But sometimes did, obviously. “So all the souls who walk the dark path are redeemable?”

  “Yes.” He hesitated. “Those who are not are killed. That is another reason for the existence of the Mijai.”

  A chill crawled down my spine. It was a stark reminder that I was sitting in front of a man who could end not only this life, but every one of my lives, for all eternity. I rubbed my arms and said, “Once the souls are redeemed, are they reborn?” When he nodded, I added, “How?”

  “There is only one way in and out of the dark path, and that is back through the portals.”

  “Meaning the gates are two-way?”

  “Yes. Once souls are allowed back through the portal, we escort them across the fields to the light path.”

  “Are they instantly reborn there?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes not.” He shrugged. “It depends on demand and how many souls are already waiting.”

  So what did the souls do if they weren’t reborn instantly? Float around playing harps? The thought made me smile, even though I recognized the foolishness of it. “So how does this relate to my father?”

  “Your father is a former priest. As such, he has some power over the gates and their locks.”

  My frown deepened. “I’m still not seeing the problem here.”

  “Your father,” he said, slowly and somewhat heavily, “is thought to be working on a device to permanently close the gates to all things that come through.”

  Confusion swirled through me. “But that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? It would save you the hassle of hunting down the bad things that break through, at the very least.”

  He was giving me that look again—the one that suggested I was an idiot.

  “The problem with shutting the gates permanently is the fact that it would not only stop things from breaking through, but also prevent things from leaving.” He paused, his oddly colored eyes searching mine and leaving a strange sensation of dread stirring in the pit of my stomach. “Which means no soul could move on. And that would be a disaster that could destroy us all.”

  I STARED AT HIM FOR SEVERAL MINUTES, THE implications running through my mind.

  The dead permanently caught in this world? A flood of ghosts who were both angry and confused, never able to move on and not understanding why? That would certainly be hell on earth for those of us able to see and feel them.

  But a disaster that could destroy us all? Wasn’t that overstating it a little?

  “Your expression suggests you don’t understand the true danger,” he said. “But think on it. If souls cannot move on, they cannot be reborn into new flesh. Where would that leave the human—and nonhuman—races?”

  “Up shit creek without a paddle, if your expression is anything to go by,” I said. “But by saying that, you’re suggesting no new souls are ever created. And yet the population of the world continues to grow, so that can’t be true.”

  He nodded gravely and entwined his fingers, oddly reminding me of a professor I’d had—both as a teacher and as a lover—in college. They’d both had the same sort of grave, all-knowing air.

  Although it has to be said that the professor had never been as hot as this reaper, in clothes or out.

  “New lives—and new souls—are created daily, true, but that doesn’t change the fact that the majority of these new beings contain old souls.”

  “Is there a finite number of new souls?” I asked curiously. “And is there a limit to the number of people the earth can carry? I can’t imagine it’s the master plan of whoever is in charge to keep adding souls until our world collapses under the weight of us all.”

  He smiled. Once again it was merely a quirk of the lips, but my pulse nevertheless tripped happily at the sight.

  “There are always limits,” he said, his deep voice low, creating nearly as much havoc as his almost-smile. “That is why there have been—and always will be—natural disasters. Once a limit has been reached, the clock is reset.”

  It was a hard statement to believe and yet, if you were inclined to believe in a higher power looking over us all, then it wasn’t such a big leap.

  “I still can’t see how the gates shutting would be such a disaster. I mean, people would still be born.”

  “Yes, but if no souls could move on and be reborn, then the majority of the newborns would be little more than mindless flesh.”

  I stared at him for a moment, for the first time actually taking in the implication of his words. And I sure as hell didn’t want to believe them. Surely if there was someone in charge upstairs, they wouldn’t be that cruel. “Zombies?” I said incredulously. “You’re saying they’d be zombies?”

  He hesitated. “No. Zombies are flesh brought back to life by the deadly desires of others. A body born without a soul is little more than a slab of meat. It is incapable of thought, emotion, or feeling. It has no needs or desires. It hasn’t even got the will to live.”

  Vegetables, not zombies, something within whispered. I shuddered, and tried not to ima
gine the hundreds of babies lying in ICUs all over the world, their tiny bodies being kept alive by machines but never becoming capable of knowing love or life.

  It made me want to throw up.

  But bad situation or not, it really didn’t make his following me any easier to swallow.

  “Look, I hope like hell you track down my father and stop him, but I really think you’re tackling it from the wrong angle. He’s never had anything to do with me, so why on earth would he want to do so now, when he’s about to embark on a course of action that could endanger all that I hold dear?”

  He shrugged again, but I had a suspicion that the nonchalance was faked and he wasn’t telling me all he knew. And that his reasons for following me were far more complicated than what he was saying. Though I wasn’t entirely sure why I felt this. It wasn’t as if his countenance or body language had changed in any way.

  “As I said earlier, him contacting you is only a possibility, but one we must explore.”

  “So, you’ve explored it, and I’ve denied it. What happens next?”

  He raised an eyebrow—another ever-so-elegant gesture. “Nothing. I will continue to watch you until we are sure there is no likelihood of him contacting you.”

  “I’m not really keen on the idea of a reaper shadowing me day and night.”

  Especially if he remained in this form. I might not have a werewolf’s troublesome, moon-controlled hormones, but I was still female, and a good-looking male could affect me as easily as the next woman. Even if that good-looking male wasn’t exactly flesh and blood.

  “It is not by desire that I do this, trust me.”

  The edge in his voice had curiosity stirring again. “Then don’t. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.”

  “That is not the point or the problem. The duty has been assigned to me, and I must comply.”

  “Why?”

  He looked at me like I was being a simpleton. “Because it is my duty.”