Touch If You Dare (41 page)

Jarvis grabbed the matching swan off the table and stood over Death. “I’m going back home.”

“You’re not going back. You crossed the line. You’re mine. You’re done.”

Jarvis heard the finality in Death’s words, and he felt a tugging from the direction of the white cloud. The tractor beam of heaven. It was true. He was really dead.

Stunned, he let the swan fall from his hand. It shattered across the floor. He’d gone and died, and he hadn’t finished his mission. His brother. The world.
Reina.

She was on her own now. She had to harvest Augustus? She’d never be able to do it. He’d sworn that he’d help her. He’d
promised
. And he’d gone and turned himself into vulcanized rock.

Rock that was destroying the world right now.

He leaned against the table, too stunned to move. It had never occurred to him that he’d fail. Not really. Not once she’d shown up and cut through his shit. He’d thought she could hold it off long enough to do what he had to do.

But he’d let down his brother. Betrayed the world. And worst of all, he’d failed Reina. Not just by not saving her sister, but by
dying
on her. He slammed his fist into his palm. He shouted an unearthly bellow of anguish and devastation, the evisceration of his soul.

Jarvis!
Reina’s voice was filled with tears now, and his body went cold. “Reina!”

“She can’t hear you, you nitwit. But she can feel your life force bleeding out of you. Terrible to be on the living side of that sort of experience, but I suppose she’s an expert at it now.”

Jarvis swore as her agony hit him. She was in so much pain. He was killing her. She’d suffered so much, and he’d made it worse.

Death worked his way to his feet, still hunched over, one hand on his nuts, the scythe in the other. “Let’s get it over with. On your knees, warrior. Die with honor.”

With honor. For what? For letting down everyone that mattered, because he wasn’t man enough to fight off the hate? Yeah. It was time for him to blow this joint. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “Do it.” He wasn’t worthy of honor.

“Excellent. A fine way to go out.” Death took a backswing, and then a white dove flew out of the puffy doorway and landed on Death’s shoulder. He dropped the scythe with a shout of glee. “Mom!” Death lightly kissed the bird’s beak and nuzzled her feathers. “I miss you so much, Mama. I come here almost every day searching for you. I’m so happy you came out today!” He beamed at Jarvis. “Say hello to my mom. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Jarvis stared numbly at the feathered creature. “Your mom’s a bird.”

“No, dumbass, she’s a person. But everyone in heaven gets the ability to change into doves to travel. It’s a perk of getting the good Afterlife.” Death jerked his thumb toward Jarvis. “You’ll be flying around before you know it, too, big guy. Never thought you’d get heaven, but who knows how this shit works?”

“How I got heaven?” Jarvis looked at the white fluffy door again. Scanned the room. No other entrances or exits. Just that one white door. “I’m… I’m going to heaven?”

“Well, duh, what part of ‘pearly gates’ did you not understand?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”
He was going to heaven?
But he was hate. He was bad shit. He was a monster.

Then he thought of the way Reina always looked at him. As if he were more than that. He’d thought she was naive. Blinded by her cheery world view. But as Death was his witness, she’d been right. Heaven didn’t lie. Heaven didn’t get duped, and heaven was inviting him in.

He was good. Good? Him? But it was impossible—

Death’s phone beeped. “I’ve got to run, Mama. The Godfather is almost finished killing off that girl.”

Natalie. Reina couldn’t save her by herself. “Reina,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Death cheek-kissed his mom. “Later, Mama, I miss you.” Death sighed as he watched the bird fly off, then he turned and picked up his scythe. “Okay, warrior man, it’s time—”

Jarvis realized he couldn’t feel Reina’s anguish anymore. The emptiness hit him like a tremendous void. Like someone had ripped his soul out and strung it up by its fingernails. “Where is she?”

Death began to swing the scythe. “She cut you off. She’s got a sister to say good-bye to, an assassin to fight off, and assorted other obligations. No time for a broken heart.”

“A broken heart?” Jarvis leapt across the room and pinned Death up against the wall. “A broken heart? Because I died? Because she loves me?”

Death went still, so still, his staff clutched in his hand. “You tell me.”

Jarvis closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. The way he used to do with his sword when he was trying to sense hate, fear, and terror. This time, it was just him, and he wasn’t sure how to do it. He pictured Reina, the laughter in her eyes, the smoldering passion in her eyes when he’d finished making love to her, the way she’d held his face to give him peace, the tenderness of her touch. Something swelled inside him, something he’d never felt before, and he
knew
. “She loves me,” he whispered. And not the way she loved everyone else. She
loved
him.

“Very nice, my boy.”

Jarvis opened his eyes to tears glistening in Death’s eyes.

The new Reap pulled out his handkerchief. “You did it. You let love reach you. Do you realize how powerful that love must be?” He blew his nose. “I swear, it just gets you right here.” He thudded his ribs.

Jarvis’s own chest hurt like he’d never hurt before. The pain of being impaled by Blaine’s blade during “Maim a Warrior, Stab a Friend” day at the Den was nothing compared to how he felt right now. Heat was burning in his chest. Stinging his eyes. It was fire, and it was energy, but not hate. It was something different, something that breathed life into his very pores.

“I can’t send you back, my boy. But true love is a rare gift to be cherished. If you can get back to her, I’ll let you go.”

Jarvis blinked. “I can go back? How?”

“Same way you’ve done it every time before. By sheer force of will.”

“But I’m dead—”

“Not until I separate your soul from your body.” Death sheathed his blade. “You’ve never been this far over the line, and I’ve never seen anyone recover from this, but if anyone can do it, it would be you.” He took Jarvis’s face in his hands, and his face was solemn. “I live for the fairy tale endings,” he said. “Make me happy.” Then he kissed Jarvis’s forehead, stepped back, and vanished through the wooden table.

Jarvis braced his hands on the table and reached out with his mind to the one man who could help him. A being more gifted as a healer than anyone he’d ever met. The man who had helped him back from the brink every time.
Nigel. I gotta get back to the girl. Help me.

There no response. Just a cold void.

Nigel had to be there, fighting over his body. Nigel always knew when one of the team needed his healing. He would be there. Jarvis was sure of it.
Nigel!

Again, just a barren emptiness. Jarvis realized what the problem was. Without hate, he had no energy to tap into. No passion. No fire. He was powerless. Without hate, he was nothing.

He threw back his head and roared with frustration. “Reina!” All the times he’d come back, and now, when it really mattered, he was stripped of the power to do it.

He grabbed the table and hurled it across the room. It cracked against the wall and shattered, fragments shooting across the room. One wooden leg impaled itself in the heart plaque above the door. It severed the heart right down the middle, kind like how his own body felt right now—

Then he studied the mist swirling around his feet. Mist that was open to him because somewhere inside him was something worthy of heaven.

Because of his heart? Love and hate, two sides of the same emotion?

His pulse began to skyrocket. Was it really possible? No, it wasn’t.

But even as the words chanted through his mind, he sat on the floor. Crossed his legs. Folded his hands in front of his chest, just like he’d done so many times in Meditation for Warriors. But this time, instead of searching out the storm inside him and trying to ease it down, he sent his mind to his heart, into his emotional center.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Just a frigid gap in his chest.

He whispered Reina’s name, pictured her face, heard her voice, felt the fullness of her presence fill his soul.

And then his heart began to beat, truly beat for the first time in his life.

Reina yanked up the hood of her borrowed cloak, gripped her scythe, and raced into the ballpark. “I’m with the Grim Reaper,” she shouted to the guards as she ran past them.

They didn’t bother to look up from their canasta game.

She bolted up the nearest ramp and emerged from the tunnel into the reserved seats. The stands were full of cheering women dressed in their most beautiful finery. The stadium lights were glaring, and luxurious cascades of maroon velvet were draped over the seats and floor. Dozens of crystal chandeliers were suspended from temporary wiring, and the Boston Pops orchestra was set up behind home plate. Banquet tables adorned the outfield, and a massive, round stage was rotating in the middle of the infield. The hotdog and pretzel sweatshops had been transformed into a night of glitz, glam, and murder.

On the stage were her sister and the Godfather. They were behind an almost sheer curtain that put them in shadow, but it was clear they were naked and getting it on. Six women in black evening gowns were standing in a semi-circle around the soon-to-be-murder scene, their faces somewhat strained with the effort of not dropping to the floor in writhing ecstasy. The scoreboard in right field was listing the accolades of the Godfather, while a woman in a sparkly silver gown read off it.

The Reap was standing off to the left, arms folded,
looking huge and terrifying as he glared down at everyone.

“Oh, oh, oh!” A woman beside Reina clutched her abdomen and went down, writhing in delight. “Kill me now! That’s my sixth orgasm!”

“My abs are going to be killing me tomorrow!” another shouted.

Reina tore down the stairs, vaulted over the railing, and sprinted across the infield. “Natalie!” She was almost to the stage when something hit her from behind, sending her sprawling into the grass.

A tall woman in a strapless gown and serious biceps pulled her to her feet. “Got another overload! Take her into one of the padded rooms,” she shouted as more bouncers descended. “Strap her down so she doesn’t hurt herself.”

Reina jerked her hand free and sprayed death dust over all of them. They all dropped as Death stepped out onto the stage. He was followed by four men in chains and Cameron, who was stark naked, wearing only a golden bow, a quiver strapped across his chest, and long flowing hair. He surveyed the crowd with great delight and bowed deeply.

“These women to my left are the winners of the Kill Your Love with Love auction that took place during the foreplay session,” Death announced. “Here are their true loves, who they have commissioned to die.” He gestured to the men who were looking quite pleased to be on stage in front of thousands of screaming women. “Now, we shall see the newest incarnation of death: Death by Love!”

Reina sprinted toward the stage again. “No! Cameron! Don’t do it! Jarvis—”

Another group of bouncers tackled her, locking her hands uselessly behind her back. “Let me go!”

“Death by Love?” The Reap whirled toward Death. “That violates everything we stand for!”

Death ignored the Reap. “I present victim number one.”

The man was led forward, and he noticed Death. And the Reap. His eyes went wide and he started screaming.

The crowd went silent.

“He fears death, but this will change,” Death said. “No longer will anyone need to fear—”

The Reap slammed his scythe down on the back of Death’s head.

The women on the stage shrieked, and Death dropped to his knees, holding the back of his head. “Give it up, you archaic remnant from the past!” he shouted. “It’s my business now!” He slung his own scythe toward the Reap’s throat.

The cloaked ghoul blocked it with a clang of metal that reverberated over the sound system. Muscles flexed, macho grunts, speckles of blood. Women leapt to their feet, cheering, applauding, and hooting. Shouts of “Fairy Tale Hero” rang out.

The bouncers turned toward the stage, riveted by the ancient macho battle, forgetting they were supposed to have Reina under lockdown. She leapt back up and fought her way past the admiring throngs toward the stage.

Cam was flexing, but no one was paying him any attention. His puffy face began to contort with anger. Apparently, the Guardian of Love didn’t like being ignored. Great. Because all they needed was to get him on the offensive as well. Love was one of the most vicious motivators of heinous crimes, and from the look on Cam’s face, he wasn’t that far away from that point.