Page 9 of Reapers Don’t Ride

Dearest Vampire King,

This coming weekend, my escort and myself will be prevailing upon your hospitality. I do hope that blood bags and more angelic fare will be up to par.

~The Ruby Blood

I squinted at the blurry writing, then put it in the envelope with cherry blossoms printed on it. I wrote, ‘The Vampire King’ across the front and then went outside to find the angel, holding my glass of unfinished blood. Writing to the Vampire King had dampened my appetite, but I needed to drink in order to be less of a threat to Gavriel. And I needed him to see me drinking blood in a civilized way. At the Vampire King’s court, civilization would be a very distant memory.

He dropped down beside me on the narrow balcony the moment I’d stepped outside, the familiar scents of Singsong City swirling around us, but unable to dampen his own wonderful smell. Compared to him, the blood bag was particularly unappetizing.

“Could you deliver this, or have one of your angel associates deliver it?”

He looked at the letter I held in my hands, not touching it. “You’re going to get an invitation from him directly? Bold.”

I wouldn’t tell him exactly what was inside the envelope. “I need to go clothes shopping. Does the team have a budget for this mission, or should I use my own finances?”

He kept frowning at the letter until he finally looked at me. “Do slaves have their own finances?”

I bared my teeth in a smile and nudged him with my elbow. “I’m not a slave. And yes, they do when they work for Mr. Good. He likes to give as much autonomy as possible while still maintaining control over those parts he finds useful. The thing is, I don’t like to spend money on clothing unless it’s actually something that helps me kill people. Pretty clothes rub me the wrong way, so I’ll spend as little as possible on them. These clothes were paid for by my lawyers, which is why they fit so well and are of such high quality. They’ll probably last forever,” I said, feeling glum as I looked down at the red sheath, and the heels in particular. I hadn’t lost either one of them in our dizzying flight from the coast.

“Wear what makes you comfortable.”

“No, I need a fancy dress. I just don’t want to pay for it.” I cocked my head and studied him. Was this weird to him? Me pushing for money like a drug addict who needed her next fix? “Will you pay for my dress?” For some reason, I really wanted him to say yes.

“You want me to buy a dress for you?”

“No, I just want you to pay for it.”

“A dress you don’t want.” He shrugged and looked out over the shadowy undercity while a werewolf howled in the distance. “Very well. But first, you have to tell me why you don’t like pretty clothes.”

“I prefer weapons and gear. Isn’t that logical?”

“Being pretty, feeling pretty is psychological, not logical. You’re a vampire, and all vampires are beautiful, so you know that you are absolutely exquisite. Why would you dislike clothing that suited who you already are?”

These were shockingly insightful questions. Were angels always so good at unpacking one’s inner turmoil? It was also shocking to hear an angel like him tell me that I was exquisite. “I wasn’t a pretty person when I was alive. It feels disingenuous. As though there were some perks about being a vampire. It’s all right to be a soulless, blood-sucking beast because you’re so pretty. No. Beauty is a lure, and I have no prey I’m trying to attract.”

“Like there is nothing that you want. Yes, I see.” He handed me a white card. “For your use while we are on this mission together.” He took the envelope addressed to the vampire king. “And I will see that this is delivered quickly once I’ve escorted you to the dress shop, where you will remain while I am gone. It will only be a few minutes.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll run?” I asked, gripping his white card with a slight sense of glee.

“Yes. I’m worried that you’ll run into trouble, but I’ve read your file. You are capable of standing on your own, as you’ve had to do for the last century.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?”

“I’m still drinking my blood.”

“Then drink it.”

“The young are in such a hurry.”

“The ancient are so slow.” He gave me a slight smile and then leaned against the side of the building, relaxing next to me like we had all the time in the world. I wasn’t an ancient vampire, not close, but I was very old compared to him. Angels didn’t live forever. How lucky.

I sipped my blood and found myself relaxing next to him, looking into the darkness and feeling content. It was like old times, killing alongside my specter, only I wasn’t killing anything other than time.

“Who can kill time without injuring eternity?” I murmured.

“Eternity was meant to be injured. I say this as someone outside the constraints of time.”

“What does that even mean?”

“What does anything mean? I’m too young and delusional to properly explain anything to such an ancient soul as yourself.”