Reaper (40 page)

Shit. Scrappers rained down on me. I managed to stab one in the chest as he tumbled into me. Two grabbed my hands. Another bit my knee.
 
I telekinetically threw the two back and kicked Knee Biter away, but more came. There were too many. I held up a force field in front of me. Scrappers ran into it several times, like dumb birds hitting a clean glass window, before realizing they couldn’t get me. So they turned and ran.

Great, Anora, just
great
, I cursed at myself. I took off after the one I had kicked. My blow and landed in his face, and he lost some speed with his pain. But the thing was still fast. I leapt over tangled weeds, fallen logs, and pushed my way through low branches and prickly bushes. The blade sank into his back like a knife into butter. He was a harmless pile of ash in seconds.

Angered at the loss of another pack member, the scrappers flew out of trees, hissing and shrieking. One swung and kicked me, square in the back, knocking me flat on my face. My skin tore on fallen tree limbs. I rolled over just in time to send him flying. The impact was hard, hard enough to stun him for a heartbeat to give me time to stab him.

I stood still. I closed my eyes. And he fell for it. I jumped, thrust my arm forward, and took out another. A large scrapper raced toward me, brandishing a rusty sword. Behind me, two more let out a battle cry.

Hunter, I need you!
 
My heart pounded. Adrenaline took over. I kicked the one with the sword and sliced through another. That’s three…where are the other two? I jinxed myself by wondering, for they Geronimo’d out of a tree and landed on me. I fell hard, knocking the wind out of me. Someone tore into the bite on my knee, its grotesque tongue lapping up my blood.
 
Two pinned my arms down. Swordy bit my side. I screamed.
  

Pathetic, I thought, to die at the hands of Scrapper. I thrashed against the little demons. One clawed and chewed at my fingers until it took my dagger. “NO!” I shouted hoarsely.

And then he was there, standing over me, growling the fiercest and most beautiful growl. My arms were freed. I pulled myself back, telekinetically smashed the demon to the ground, and took back my dagger. Hunter had already ripped one to shreds. Seeing better in the dark than me, Hunter led the chase.

We followed them to the west side of my property and to the other side of the tree line, into a dark, empty field. The ruts from the harvested corn were easy to trip on, and I struggled to keep up. Gasping for air, I didn’t realize the danger in store when the scrappers stopped. Blood rushed down my leg but I felt no pain. I wiped it away, smearing my bloody hands on my shirt. The scrappers looked at each other and made a noise that had to be demonic laughter.

 
In front of them lay a street. Several hundred feet west was a petite white farmhouse. A plastic slide and a green turtle sandbox were bathing in florescent light under a security lamp. Through the big, curtain-less windows, a flat screen TV played
Toy Story
. A teenage girl yapped on her cell phone, glancing over her shoulder at the two little boys captivated by Buzz and Woody.

The demons licked their lips.

They were fast, but Hunter was faster. He could get to the door and hold them off until I happily turned them all into ash. Easy kill.

I was wrong. One scrapper raced for the house. The other went west, down the street, heading for the main road and more houses.
You go that way!
 
I mentally shouted to Hunter, and he took off, heading for the main road. I stumbled my way across the ditch and into the street. The scrapper raised his sword and jumped, meaning to crash through the window. I jumped too, and grabbed his scaly ankle. We fell, his sword cutting through the screen and scraping against the glass. The girl—no older than fifteen—screamed. I was back on my feet in no time, but the demon was gone. The back door. He must have gone for the back.

All sorts of commotion was going on inside. The girl was still screaming. Someone else, an older man by the sound of it, was yelling too.
 
Swordy was in a tree. I knew he was…I just couldn’t find him. All around me, the world grew still. I watched. I waited. Then the light above the back door turned on. No! The man I had heard shouting bust through, shot gun aimed at me.

Swordy jumped.

The trigger was pulled on accident; the shot rang through the air. I raced forward, pulling Swordy off the man. Do I kill him in front of a human? My breath quickened. What would Ethan do? He’d kill him.

Shoot… I might as well be the freak who saves people from the things that go bump in the night.

The scrapper’s head banged against the cement stairs as I yanked him down. I conjured an orb, tossed it up to blind the man, and drove the pointy end of my dagger into the demon’s chest. The orb burst into a million little threads and I telekinetically tossed the ash into the air.

Panting, I rose from the cool cement stairs. “Mountain lion,” I said, my voice shaking, completely knowing how unfeasible that notion was. The man gaped at me, his shot gun loose in his hands. The girl peered out the window and screamed again.
 
I must look like a lunatic, wearing hoochie-mama short shorts, a midriff showing tank top, covered in mud, blood, and holding a dagger. Yep, I was the town freak for sure. I froze, staring into the man’s eyes before turning and running.

I followed Hunter’s calls. He had killed another. I met him on the corner of the highway. My lungs burned from running. Ethan was right; I did need to get into hunting and fighting shape. I sank down uncomfortably on loose gravel, my chest heaving for air. Hunter pressed his nose to my face, breathing new life into me. The scrappers had retreated into a drainage pipe.
You take one end…
I nodded. Hunter knew exactly what to do.

Hunter sprang first, scaring a Scrapper out towards me, where I greeted him with the sharp end of my dagger. Instead of two lowly demons, three resided in the tunnel.

“Seriously?” I groaned as a particularly small demon dashed back inside. Hunter grabbed another by the back of the neck, jaws crushing his spine, leaving him paralyzed and ready to be eliminated with a stab from the magical weapon in my hand. He went for the remaining demon in the tunnel, chasing it out of the ditch and into the road.

Neither of us saw the headlights. Neither of us acknowledged the distant rumble of the oncoming semi. We were both caught up in the fight, concerned only about killing these pesky demons. My head snapped up at as the driver blew the horn. Hunter appeared at my side just in time for me to grab him and leap into the tunnel. The Mack truck’s breaks squealed and hissed. The load threatened to jack knife. And the scrapper never saw it coming.

Hunter snatched the body. Mangled beyond recognition, he brought it into the drainage pipe. The poor semi driver was on his cell, frantically describing what had just happened, looking under his rig for any sign of a body. A
human
body.

 
Do you think the police will look in here?
 
I asked Hunter, eyeing the nauseating pile of road kill that used to be a scrapper. Rattled breathing made me jump. I had forgotten about the other, nonmoving Scrapper. Blood streamed from Hunter’s bite. Luckily, he was alive enough to go poof from the dagger.
It’s really convenient how this works
, I thought to Hunter, feeling like I owed whoever created the dagger a huge thank you. Hunter told me he’d gather up the bodies that need burning and meet me at home.

Though we had won, I felt defeated. I hurt, everywhere. A flap of skin hung loosely from my knee cap, and every step was painful. The bite on my side was still bleeding. Little scratches covered my whole body, head to toe. And I was a good ways from home. It took me almost twice as long to retrace my steps through barren fields and jumbled trees than it would have to walk down the highway to my street, but I didn’t want anyone stopping me. I would be taken to the nuthouse for real this time.

The horses had been spooked. I could tell by the way they breathed and the way the white of their eyes were showing. Mystery pranced nervously, breathing loudly. Even lazy Neptune was agitated. She cantered around, huffing. They had good reason; in the middle of the arena was a trampled scrapper.

“Good boy,” I told Mystery, assuming it was him who killed the beast. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “It’s ok, guys. We’re safe now.”

 
But were we? One had gotten past me. I sent Hunter the message to collect this body too. I checked the horses up and down for teeth marks or scratches (I didn’t find any) and gave them extra hay once they were settled back in their stalls. This had Melcovel written all over it.

I trudged in the house, stopping to stare at the faery in a jar on my counter. A laugh rippled from deep within me, escaping from my lips and sounding foreign. I ran a hand through my messy—and dirty—hair and shook my head.

“What happened to you?” Nikolai asked, his voice too loud for his small size. I was half tempted to throw the jar against the wall. Deciding against it, I set the dagger in the sink and carried Nikolai upstairs. I stood at the top of the stairs. Ethan was sick. He didn’t need to know about all this just yet; it would upset him too much. “What are you waiting for, lass?” Nikolai’s honey smooth voice echoed in the hall. I turned and held the jar out over the stairs.

“Another word and I drop you,” I threatened.

He nodded. Silently, I crept past the bed and into the bathroom. I let out a breath when I closed the door without waking Ethan. I turned on the shower and looked at Nikolai. Not wanting him to watch me shower, I put the jar in the closet, on a shelf with my shoes. Since I didn’t want to come off as a total bitch, I turned the light on for him.

I winced as the cool water flowed over my fresh cuts and bruises. The bites hurt the worst. My right knee was starting to swell. Did demons have rabies? Slowly, to avoid any extra pain, I slid down the shower wall until I was sitting.

Hunter was bringing back bodies to burn. I had a faery in the closet. Ethan was sick. I looked like the loser in a dog fight. My favorite shorts were in the garbage. Something attracted the scrappers…were my reapers hanging around again? Or maybe something had
sent
the scrappers.

Melcovel.

I started picking leaves and burs from my hair, watching rusty colored water swirl down the drain. I felt so overwhelmed. Bracing for pain the soap would bring when I washed my wounds. I washed my hair and skipped the conditioner.

 
I gingerly wrapped a towel around my battered torso, patting my torn up skin dry enough to bandage. Crap. I didn’t bring any clean clothes in with me. And I was
not
going in the closet in only a towel. I had pajamas in the dresser in front of our bed. Thank goodness my bras and underwear were in the nightstand next to the bed.
 
It was difficult to get my legs through a pair of yellow and blue plaid shorts. Putting any weight on my right leg was excruciating.
 
For once I was thankful for Ethan’s pile of laundry. I pulled one of his tee shirts over my head.

“Why are you limping?” Ethan asked feebly.

“I’m not limping.”

“Mhh-hmm.” He sounded so sick and sad I felt even worse for lying to him.

“It’s probably your eyes. You know, since you’re, uh, sick.”

“What’s wrong with your knee?” Ethan lifted his head off the pillow. Damn him for being so freakishly observant. How he could see in the dim light…I shook my head.

“I, uh, fell.” I stuck my arms through the sleeves, the material catching on my scratches. “I’m fine. Go to sleep. You need to rest.”

“I know. Will you make me Jell-O?”

“Of course.” I smiled and hurried back into the bathroom to get the faery. I put my finger to my lips and didn’t pick up the jar until Nikolai nodded in understanding. I stuck him under my arm and shimmied out of the room. I set the jar on the kitchen counter and started making the Jell-O.

“Why did you lie to that man?” Nikolai asked and buzzed around the jar.

“Answer my question first and maybe I’ll answer yours.” I slid the tray of Jell-O juice in the freezer, hoping it would set faster than normal.

“What question?”

“What exactly are you?”

“My name is Nikolai, and I’m a faery from the Domovoi clan. I’ve lived most of my life in The Realm but have taken a shine to your world. I come here from time to time. My family has always been friendly with humans; my gran says she used to be a nanny for a witch. I never believed her,” he sighed and shook his head.

I didn’t blink. I don’t even think I took a breath until I shook myself. As if things weren’t overwhelming before…

“What’s the deal with the water then?” I asked. The second a drop of water hit him, Nikolai shrunk down to fun-sized.

“Ah, yes. That would be the labor of love.”

“Huh?” I put my elbows on the table and rested my chin in my hands.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a heart breaker. Had a nasty falling out with a water nymph. She cursed me.” His small eyes glossed over and he sighed. “She was a beauty, that one. Wild too. With a bit of a temper, as you can tell.”

“A water nymph?” I asked incredulously.

“What, you don’t think I’m their type? I happen to have quite a way with nymphs. Took a holiday with a wood nymph before, oh a century ago.”