Angel of Death: (Reaper Series, Book 1)

  FATE

  Despite what both Charon and Azrael had told him, Darius was still concerned. Days passed and he could not get over the feeling that something was wrong and that the woman, Peyton Paradisa, was somehow involved. Furthermore, he was driving himself crazy with the thought that he had seen her before, but no matter how hard he tried to remember where he might have seen her, the knowledge eluded him. He began to tell himself that it was only his imagination, that she only looked like or reminded him of someone else he had once known. Or perhaps he had only seen her in passing during a previous Reaping. He told himself numerous reassurances, ordered himself to focus, to not worry about her, to forget he ever saw her... but he couldn't.

  One day, almost a week after he had first seen her, Darius decided to revisit the hospital and see her. It was against the rules, but he had to check on her, if for nothing else but to confirm her fate had been written and ease his troubled mind. When he saw her, though, he knew he had made things worse for himself.

  Darius experienced two different sensations when he set eyes on her. She was assisting a patient, an elderly man who Darius knew with only a glance would die in less than three weeks, despite the fact that he was currently smiling and flirting with his young, attractive, nurse. The first sensation that Darius felt when he looked at Peyton was one he had grown accustomed to; that feeling of nagging familiarization. He knew her from somewhere. Maybe not knew her personally, but he felt certain that he once knew her name and her face, but had long since forgotten. Again, he wondered if he knew her when he was mortal, but frowned at the thought. That was over two-hundred years ago and this woman was little more than two decades old. Knowing her back then was an absurd thought. Then he wondered if maybe she was a descendant of someone who did live back then. It was possible.

  But still, why can't I remember?

  The second sensation Darius felt was a cold prickling down the back of his neck and spine. A feeling so foreign to him now, after centuries of fearing nothing, that it took him several moments to place.

  It was dread.

  An almost overwhelming feeling of foreboding, of feeling confident that something terrible was going to happen very soon. And he knew exactly why he was feeling this way. Peyton still had no fate.

  Darius stared at her for almost forty minutes, hoping that he was mistaken, that her fate would be written for her at any minute, that her ultimate destiny would reveal itself to her if only he looked hard enough. He followed her around the hospital, watching her go about her duties, helping patients, caring for people, laughing, smiling, talking, completely unaware that she had no future.

  Surely a fate would have been written for her by now, Darius thought.

  Everyone needed a fate written. It was the rule that all Reapers and other beings of the afterlife followed to keep order. For this woman to go almost a week without a fate... it was unthinkable. Fates could be changed, Darius knew this. But they could not be erased.

  As Darius watched Peyton, wondering why she still had no fate, a thought occurred to him. He wondered if maybe her lack of a future was not caused by the rogue. What if she had never had a fate written? What would that mean? What was she, if not mortal?

  Darius noticed Peyton lean over the desk of the nurses station and sigh audibly. Another woman, one Darius knew was called Tina, began to speak with her and Darius moved closer to listen in, invisible to their eyes as he hid in the veil of shadows.

  "How much longer do you think they're going to take?" Tina was asking Peyton.

  "Who knows?" Peyton shrugged. "Can't be too much longer, though. They've already been in there, what, an hour? Hour and a half?"

  "Something like that. At least we know you're not taking the blame for him."

  "Can you believe he suggested I do that?" Peyton asked, sounding incredulous.

  "I wonder what they'll do to him?" Tina wondered aloud. "Whatever it is, he deserves it for trying to pin a death on you."

  "Yeah, I guess..." Peyton sighed again.

  "What's wrong?"

  For a moment, Peyton didn't answer. Then she said, "The family was in here this morning. They were talking to Spencer and Anscomb."

  "Are they suing?" Tina asked.

  Peyton shook her head. "I don't think so. To be honest, I don't think they could afford a lawyer even if they wanted to sue. It was only the mother and the brother. I don't think they have anyone else. It was just sad, is all."

  Suddenly, the general peace of the hospital emergency room was broken by the sound of a door banging open and shouts coming from down the hall. More than one voice was yelling, all different things.

  "Stop!"

  "Voss, calm yourself!"

  "Where is she?"

  "DAMMIT, Voss!"

  The double doors burst open and a furious faced Voss barged in, his eyes darting around the room, searching for something. They finally settled on Peyton.

  "You!" he cried, pointing at her. He began to charge at her, running with his fists clenched and his eyes wild with rage. "This is your fault!"

  Before he could reach her, an orderly rushed him from the left and tackled him to the ground. Voss tried to get up, struggling and screaming in rage at the man on top of him, but the orderly was large and pinned him easily. Spencer, Anscomb and several other people in a combination of doctor's coats and suits came quickly into the emergency room, looking fearful. When Spencer saw Voss pinned on the floor, his worry gave way to anger.

  "Dammit, Voss, you're only making things worse for yourself!" he almost shouted. "Stop making a scene, you're scaring the patients."

  "To hell with them!" Voss cried, spit flying from his mouth. "It's this bitch's fault, you know it! I told you! She killed the guy! Fire her, you idiots, not me!"

  Peyton was watching the scene in shock, having frozen when Voss charged at her. Her mouth was slightly open as she watched a once respected doctor flail about on the floor with a former college-linebacker sitting on top of him. Everyone was watching Voss with varying degrees of shock, distaste and pity.

  The orderly hoisted Voss onto his feet, but held him in place with his arms pinned behind his back. Spencer marched over and stood right in front of Voss, forcing him to look him in the eye.

  "Get a hold of yourself this very instant," Spencer said, his voice deathly quiet. "If you calm down, I will still allow you to leave the hospital without handcuffs on your wrists."

  Voss stopped struggling, but continued to sneer at Spencer. Spencer took a deep breath to calm himself, then went on.

  "As you insist on making this a public scene, fine. I can not, and will not, tolerate dishonesty among my staff. Especially when a life has been lost because of a mistake. Had you owned up right away instead of blaming a nurse, I might have been more lenient. But your mortality rate has been increasing over the last couple of years and, frankly, it's a concern. It all makes me wonder if you actually want to be a doctor. At least, for the right reasons, anyway. I suggest you see the silver lining here. This is a chance for you to think about what you really want. Now please, peacefully leave the premises."

  The orderly slowly, cautiously, loosened his grip on Voss' arms. Everyone held their breath, expecting Voss to fly off the handle again, but he didn't move. He was still for a long time, breathing deeply, staring at the floor. When he finally looked up, his expression was one of calm acceptance, but Darius could sense the true feelings behind those cold eyes. He knew what Voss truly wanted.

  Revenge.

  Without a word, Voss calmly marched through the exit. Before he vanished from sight, however, he glanced back into the ER. Directly at Peyton. Darius followed his gaze and looked at the expression of surprise that had frozen on Peyton's face from the moment Voss barged through the doors.

  The vision hit Darius like a sledgehammer to the back of his skull. In his mind, in a flash, he saw Peyton struggling against someone. That someone had her pinned on the floor. There was music playing, a song Darius didn't know
, but Peyton enjoyed. The person holding her down lifted something up above their head, the object flaunting with menace in the dim lighting. A knife, long and sharp, taken from any normal kitchen. Darius saw the face of the man holding the knife. Darius saw Voss scowling down at Peyton as she continued to struggle against him. Then Darius saw Voss bring down the knife. He saw the knife plunge again and again, over and over, relentlessly into Peyton's body. Blood spray flew with every plunge of the blade, going across the walls, spreading quickly over Peyton's face and body. She was screaming, screaming in pain and terror, but one final plunge of the knife silenced her forever. Voss stayed kneeling over her body, panting hard, his face and hands covered in the blood of the young woman he had just murdered.

  Darius snapped out of the vision and nearly fell, the ferocity of what he had just witnessed having caught him off guard. He was looking quickly around as though trying to figure out where he was, taking short breaths, his eyes wide, but his eyes quickly returned to Peyton. She was still standing in the same place by the nurses station, now talking quietly with Tina and some other staff members, still visibly shaken and surprised by what she had just witnessed. Feeling the dread close over his chest, Darius lifted his left arm and passed his right hand over the watch on his wrist, thinking of Peyton as he did so.

  The pearly-white hands appeared, but only three of them. The others were stationary in the 12 location, faded to jet black. Darius then knew what had happened. Peyton's fate had been written. Voss had made the decision to kill her, sealing her fate.

  And she had only hours left to live.