Chapter Nineteen
Frustration.
Less than pleased with how the abysmal meeting had gone, Asherik retreated to the realm of dreams. Waiting. Waiting. Why didn’t she come?
His world had become the sweet sound of her laughter, the proud curve of her neck, the radiance in her cheeks when he showed her something new. Asherik lived for the moments when she looked on him not in terror, but eyes glowing with what he knew must be love. She consumed his every thought, hardly remembering to care for the body he squatted in, in the real world.
Bathed in that love, he thought only of her happiness, doing everything within his power to bring it to her when she joined him each night. She’d built him into a new man, made over his soul just as she’d formed the body in her mind’s eye, and he wanted to be that man with every fiber of his being.
The urge to rend and tear faded, replaced by something new. Something remarkable. Something he never knew existed.
Why didn’t she come?
She’d seemed distracted the last couple of nights, the dreams ending abruptly as the real world intruded with shrieking alarms, robbing him of his lingering kisses. But Ash took comfort in the knowledge that she’d soon be his again.
Only… it wasn’t enough.
His thirst for her was all consuming. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to taste the earthly delights of the flesh. More than that, he wanted her to know him. Know what he was, and accept him, in every way. It had driven him out of the shadows, to seek her out in the sunlight that she cherished, to see her with human eyes.
He found her just as appealing, despite the dark smudges under her eyes (the effects of his appetites, to his deep regret). Ash could have stood drinking in her beauty for hours, but something compelled him to speak to her. To make her see him in the body he’d chosen, knowing her desires.
Of course, it was a disaster.
In all his years Asherik had never had to woo a woman before. He’d only to catch their gaze and any woman fell into a swoon at his feet. Every woman but the one he wanted most. Or was that why he wanted her so badly? Even with the hours spent talking to her in the dream world, the words had failed him as he stood humbled by her allure.
It occurred to him hours later why he’d botched it. He’d failed to mention the most important thing in his awkward attempt at conversation. He’d failed to speak of his love. For Asherik was convinced that he loved her.
Why didn’t she come?
It was long past the time when she usually sought her bed, and yet he could not reach her. The thought that he might not get to see her was unbearable. His fist lashed out, pulverizing the wall beside him in a shower of dust. Ash stared at the blood welling over the torn knuckles, feeling no pain. What fragile creatures humans were. He caught up a small cloth, understanding that he must stop the blood in order to heal. In just a few minutes the skin knit together, red and raw, but healing swiftly.
Why didn’t she come?
He had to see her. Asherik was moving almost before the idea became fully formed in his mind. He’d make her understand this time. He’d make her see him as he was.
On silent feet he scaled the metal contraption clinging to the building, pausing outside her window as an unaccustomed feeling seized his belly.
He was nervous.
Ash took a few extra moments to marshal his thoughts, intent on not wasting his words this time. When he was ready, he reached for the window sill only to be stopped mid-air. Though the window was clearly open, some unseen force kept his hand from going any further. His brows drew together into a single dark line as he poked and prodded the invisible barrier, trying to find the edge of it. In a fit of frustration, he lashed out and felt the newly healed skin break open again as his knuckles met the protective wall.
She lay sleeping within, maddeningly close, yet impossibly far for all intents and purposes. Ash drew a measure of peace from watching the rise and fall of her breast, taking some time to consider his options. He could call to her, and perhaps she would come to him. The brick walls felt mundane enough, he could break his way through to her, but likely that would frighten her. Neither option held appeal, and he decided to try her door. The better to cut off her escape route should she try to flee.
The decision made, he descended the stairs two at a time, easily jumping to the ground from the last landing. So intent was he on his prize, that the sudden appearance of the hilt protruding from his belly drew only puzzlement, until he felt the bite of the corrupted blade, drawing his power. Panic flared as he struggled to move before it was too late, but the reaper appeared much too quickly.
There was no triumph in his cold, blue eyes, only a deadly determination as he grabbed Ash’s arm, grasping his hand firmly in his. Ash knew what came next, and flinched as the obsidian blade pierced both their hands, joining them together, flesh to flesh. He didn’t have much time. Even as the reaper began to perform the binding ritual, Ash moved his hand an inch, and another. Flecks of foam gathered at the corners of his mouth as he struggled to raise his weapon. He’d come prepared this time.
Instead of reaching for the tainted dagger, Ash brought his hand up to the reaper’s chest, counting on the concentration needed to perform the ritual to keep him from noticing the muzzle of the gun before it was too late. “Not… this… time,” he bit out, pulling the trigger.
The reaper’s gaze flashed down an instant before it was too late. Twisting to block the shot, the bullet hit him in the shoulder rather than the chest. His grip on Ash’s hand loosened, the words faltering as he was blown back by the force of it. It was opportunity enough for Ash to pull his hand free of the obsidian blade. Ash fired the gun again, wild and high, but it forced the reaper to dive for cover giving him enough time to pull the rusty dagger from his belly. Freed from the poisonous blade, Ash transferred the gun to his dominant hand, but his wounded hand wouldn’t grasp it properly. His shots ricocheted harmlessly against the huge metal dumpster the man crouched behind.
The bricks behind him exploded in a burst of rubble and Ash came to understand that the reaper was returning fire. He’d never done that before. It did him no good to kill the host body, he had to trap Asherik in order to bind him. Ash fired again, blindly, unprepared when the reaper appeared from the opposite corner in a flying tackle. They rolled over the dirty pavement until, by accident or design, Ash landed on top. The obsidian dagger appeared in the reaper’s hand again, and Ash plunged his finger into the bloody wound at his opponent’s shoulder. A howl of pain escaped the reaper’s lips, and his grip faltered.
Bringing his gun up to the man’s temple, Ash squeezed the trigger, only to be met with the disappointing click of metal. He pulled the trigger again and again, but the muffled sound of gunfire came not from the weapon in his hand, but from the gun pressed to his belly. Looking down, Ash saw the pool of blood staining his shirt with alarming speed, and he lurched away from the reaper, staggering to his feet.
He understood that the wound was serious, despite the lack of pain. Soon his body would weaken and the reaper would be upon him. Ash could use his remaining strength to reach her side, but there might be protective sigils barring him from her door as well. He could ignore the pain and attempt to finish the blonde man off. The reaper was wounded badly as well, his shoulder bleeding profusely. Or, he could flee like a rat abandoning a sinking ship to choose another host body.
Even as he debated those things, the reaper regained his feet, advancing with dagger in hand. With a last look up at the darkened window above, Asherik stole off into the shadows. His own tolerance for pain and blood loss gave him an edge over the reaper, and he soon lost his pursuer. The wound in his belly had already started to close around the offending lump of metal, but Ash needed to feed to replenish his energy. Deprived of her love, the urge to strike out returned with a vengeance.