Page 21 of Reapers Don’t Ride

Gavriel sniffed and then launched into the air. He was slower that time, less rocket, more plane, and Richard was behind us the entire way. At the coast, he threw a firebolt at us, and Gavriel barely got out of the full blast. Meanwhile, it singed my hair and his wings.

“Sorry about that,” Gavriel murmured before he shifted me so I was in one arm and then hurled a sphere of darkness at the angel.

The world blurred beneath us as we flew, and then we were on the outskirts of Singsong City.

Richard was on us, his sword swinging down. Gavriel barely deflected the blow, and then it was a sword battle in the air over the city in broad daylight, with me occupying half of Gavriel’s arms. When Richard got close enough, I raked my nails across his cheek. After all, this was a fight scene, and I was a renowned killer.

Richard fell back at that, giving us enough space that Gavriel shot forward, flying down the nearest escalator into Song, cradling me against his broad chest as we flew. We buzzed right over a pack of werewolves who raised their heads to nip and howl, but we were already a street away. Then two. We wound through the streets with no sign of Richard. Had we gotten away? It shouldn’t have been that easy. Of course, he wasn’t really chasing us.

We flew around a corner, and an explosion caught us, knocking us back, tumbling until we hit a building and crashed to the ground.

“Gavriel!” I cried, pulling him upright. My cuffs were getting in the way so I ripped them apart, leaving a silver cuff on each wrist.

He blinked dazedly, then tried to take a step and fell. I caught him, then hauled him over my shoulders and ducked into the building behind us. It was an apartment building with a long hall down its length. I ran, arms full of angel, hating Richard with all of my heart. Singe him? I could smell angelic blood, and it made me want to kill Richard much more than I wanted to feed. I burst out the door on the back side of the building, coming out in a narrow alley that smelled like the worst things in Song. I shifted Gavriel and ran, leaping over boxes and trash until I got to the next door. It was locked, so I kicked it in, bursting into a kitchen that hadn’t been scrubbed down for at least a decade.

I froze, Gavriel’s blood trailing down my arm, as the table of outcasts stood, drawing a wide variety of weapons.

The elf with a monocle was the last to stand, but he didn’t draw a weapon, just studied me with intent, ageless eyes.

“Kill them, quickly,” some kind of sea-man hissed, with tentacles coming out of his chin and bulbous eyes. “Neither is good for eating, but angel parts go for good money.”

I snarled at him. “If you lay a finger on my friend, I’ll see that you and your little hovel are nothing more than a blur of blood.”

A large man in dark leather and spiked knuckle wrappers stood up, pointing at me. “It’s that blood vampire, the assassin.” His voice was resolute, although he was built like an enforcer. Unless I was wrong, this should be the back room of Lament. We’d actually made it. For some reason, with Gavriel unconscious in my arms, the mission wasn’t as important. I was going to kill Richard.

No, I wasn’t going to waste Gavriel’s pain. I tightened my jaw. If they knew my actual reputation, they’d never let us in. Then I’d take Gavriel to the nearest hospital and forget about trying to infiltrate this filthy place. But not until I tried. “That’s in the past. I promise not to kill you if you let me and my friend through.” If they tried to stop me, they were dead. Every one of them.

“Through to where?” the elven fellow said, taking his monocle down so he could polish it. “Your friend needs to stop the bleeding. The sooner the better.”

I flashed my fangs. “You’re not touching him with your filthy hands.”

He examined his hands, and they seemed immaculate. “No? And you are capable of patching up an angel without getting distracted by his blood?”

For a moment I panicked. I had to stop this pretending and get Gavriel some real help. The Bellham was an excellent hospital that would welcome the angel.

“I…”

The fish guy sighed and flopped back down in his chair. “Just because we were just talking about how we could use an assassin. She’s not to be trusted.”

“Of course not,” the elf with the monocle said, moving gracefully around the table. “No one here is to be trusted. That’s why we get along so well.” He held out a hand to me. “Welcome to Song’s Lament. I’m Tiago. I will help you save your friend.”