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Chapter 10

Anaya

I stared at Cash’s house, feeling so twisted inside I wanted to be sick. I’d never seen a place covered up in so much death. The brick looked bloodstained under the dying sunset. Shadows dripped from the awnings and splashed through the gutters in a mad dash to join the cloak of nightfall. The windows, shaded with toffee-colored curtains, glowed with light. That glow signified life. Life I was about to take away.

I closed my fingers around the pretty pearl handle of my scythe. Its warmth melted through my fingertips and raced through my body like lava. It was almost time. I closed my eyes, unable to believe I was about to do this to him after everything I’d already done. After I’d looked him in the eyes and said I wouldn’t let anything hurt him.

What a lie.

I opened my eyes when I heard Finn’s familiar voice and realized he was standing on Cash’s walkway, headed for the front door with a cell phone in his hand. I allowed the sun’s warm rays to soak through me, fusing me together cell by cell until I knew I was visible to him.

“Finn?”

He stopped, a shocked look playing across his face before he shoved the phone in his back pocket and made his way toward me. His skin looked sun-kissed and his green eyes were warm and alive.

Easton may have always looked like he was born from the night, but Finn always looked like he’d been dipped in summer. Especially now.

“Being human agrees with you.” I smiled at him and looked back at the house.

“You’re human too,” he said as he stood beside me, squinting at the sunset. “Dead. But still human.”

I sighed and chewed on my bottom lip. My scythe was so warm it would’ve burned me if I’d been alive like Finn. I was stalling, and if I didn’t stop it was going to get me into trouble. “I wish I could be as optimistic as you.”

“You could be if you wanted.”

“No.” I shook my head, feeling my braids snake across my shoulders. “I can’t. Not anymore. The afterlife may have turned out to be some sort of fairy tale for you, but it’s not like that for the rest of us. I’m still here. Taking life. Never giving it back.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Finn narrowed his gaze at me. “You love your job. And what are you doing here anyway…”

Finn’s gaze darted down to my hand, wrapped tightly around the scythe there. It burned between my fingers, making them glitter and glow. He frowned as he slowly made the connection. His eyes swung from the house to my hand and back again like a pendulum, until I could practically hear the pieces click into place inside his mind.

“No.” It was only one word, but it spoke thousands. Finn stepped in front of me, blocking my view.

“Not him, Anaya. Not after everything he’s already been through. It’ll kill Emma. Just give us some time to figure it out. Help us.”

“For once, this doesn’t have anything to do with Emma,” I said, taking a deep breath. I didn’t need it, but the pressure in my lungs felt good. “I got a call. I’m doing my job.”

Balthazar had made it very clear what would happen if I didn’t. It wasn’t worth the risk.

“You don’t have to.”

I turned my golden glare on him, letting his words swim around in my mind. If only they were the truth. I would have given anything. “Yes. I do.”

I pushed past Finn and seeped through the brick, leaving the suffocating warmth of the oncoming summer behind me. The second I stepped into the empty hall, the scent of everything Cash hit me like a slap in the face. But this wasn’t just Cash. This was his father’s cologne. The scent of their dinner simmering on the stove. The smell of leather and cigars and the leftover scent of paint that followed

Cash wherever he went. This was everything that made up his family. His life. There was so much more to him than that cold studio filled with portraits of the dead. I wondered if he’d ever see it. I doubted it after today.

I drifted down the hall and stopped at Cash’s bedroom. Finn was banging on the front door. I just wanted to see him one more time before I broke everything all over again. I needed it. I let my fingertips linger on his white doorframe, waiting for him to emerge. Cash breezed through the doorway, pulling a T-shirt over his head. Reaching out, I let my fingers brush over his bare ribs just before the shirt covered them, then cursed myself for doing it. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it. I had to make him stop. Had to prolong this moment. Delay the inevitable. I just wanted him to have a few more seconds of peace. Cash stumbled to a stop, looking confused, and ran his hand over the very spot I’d grazed. He closed his eyes like he was trying to compose himself and then darted down the hall.

I sank down onto the carpet and pulled my knees up to my chest. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t take this away from him. Not this. I glanced down at my scythe, burning, throbbing, wanting the soul it came to take.

“Whoa! What the hell are you talking about, man?” Cash backed into the hall and Finn followed. He caught sight of me hunkered down like a coward in the hall and pressed his lips into a tight line.

“She’s going to take you,” Finn said looking at me. “She’s here. Now.”

“N-n-n-no, she’s not.” The color drained from Cash’s face, leaving it ash white as he combed his fingers through his damp hair. “She’s always here.” He spun around, searching. “Tell him, Anaya. Tell him what you told me. You said it wasn’t time yet.”

I swallowed and closed my eyes, feeling like another piece of the puzzle that was me and Cash had snapped into place.

“Damn it, Anaya, tell him! You promised me.” His chest started a steady rise and fall as he tried to catch his breath.

Finn narrowed his gaze at me. “You talked to him? You let him see you? What were you thinking?”

Finn groaned. “Balthazar will have your head for this.”

If only he knew the sick game Balthazar was playing. I was just another pawn. I nodded and smoothed my white dress over my knees as I stood. I couldn’t help but think it shouldn’t be so white, so pure. With all of the death I’d touched, I should have been cloaked in bloodred or, better yet, Easton’s darkness.

“Why won’t she let me see her?” Cash shouted. “Come on, Anaya. I thought we were past the hiding.”

“I’m not here to take him,” I said carefully, looking at Finn as I slid the blade from its holster at my side. Finn took a slow step back and turned his attention to the kitchen, where Cash’s father was scraping something that smelled burned off a frying pan.

I moved between them and stopped at the end of the hall. But I didn’t look at Cash. I didn’t look at

Finn. I couldn’t. Instead I spoke to the ceiling, hoping Finn would hear.

“Tell him…I’m sorry.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I heard the frying pan clatter to the floor and my eyes opened. I didn’t listen to Cash shouting behind me. Didn’t even flinch when he rushed right through me like I was nothing more than a wisp of wind. I followed him into the kitchen where he knelt over his unconscious father and beat on his chest.

He scrambled for his cell phone and uselessly called 911. All I could think about was the heat burning me from the inside out. Needing. Wanting. Clawing.

I closed my eyes and let the weight of the blade slice though the smoky kitchen air and sink into his father’s chest.