He shrugged, putting on his best old-Reseph face. “Yep. I’m just going to go get myself a place to live and then maybe hit the Four Horsemen.” Lie. Huge fucking lie.
Yes, he needed a place to live, but he was never again stepping foot in the underworld pub where he’d spent countless hours doing countless females. He only wanted Jillian, so more than likely he was going to go hang out in her barn like some sort of creepy invisible Peeping Tom.
“Don’t give me that crap,” Limos said softly. “I know you too well. You miss Jillian, don’t you?”
Sure his voice would crack like a pubescent teenage boy’s, Reseph merely nodded.
“Then get her back.” Limos looked down at the sand for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. “If you’re worried about Pestilence, maybe you should consider the way you came out of your torment when she was around. Maybe she can help keep you level and in control.”
He shook his head. “Even if that was true, she’ll never forgive me for what happened to her.”
Limos stomped her foot. “Bullshit. That human gave you her freaking mind in order to help you, and she did it after learning that Pestilence hurt her. She loves you.”
He swore he heard Pestilence laugh, and the memory of her attack started to spread through his brain like spilled mead. Where had Reseph been? Why hadn’t he fought to stop what had happened to Jillian? Reseph was just as responsible as Pestilence was.
“I know what you’re thinking, but Pestilence hurt her,” Limos said. “Not you. And I realize I sound like a hypocrite, but you have to remember that Pestilence tormented us almost daily for a year.” She glanced back at the group, where pretty much everyone was watching them. “He killed Torrent, who Ares loved like a son. He hung my staff from trees. He stole Arik’s soul. Worst of all, he tried to kill Logan. These aren’t things we’re going to get past easily, even if we know it wasn’t you who did them.”
He closed his eyes, fighting to keep the memory of preparing to slaughter the newborn at bay, but what he couldn’t stop was the nausea. In a clumsy rush, he stumbled to the surf and threw up. Tremors racked his body so violently that he could no longer hold himself up, and he crashed to his knees in the waves.
He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, head bowed, water lapping at his legs, when arms came around him and lifted him to his feet. Reaver. Reaver was holding him upright.
“I’m sorry, Reaver,” he began, and then paused, because was he supposed to call him Father now? “What I did to you in Harvester’s lair—”
“Stop.” Reaver gripped Reseph’s shoulders firmly and gave him a little shake. “None of us need apologies. We need you to put yourself back together.”
Easier said than done. Tormenting your family and killing millions of people wasn’t an easy thing to put behind you. Although he had to admit that Harvester’s “Sheoul voodoo,” as Limos called it, had gone a long way toward making that happen. But why had she done it? She hated him, and with good reason.
“Reaver… do you know why Harvester was fired as our Watcher?”
“No, but maybe you can shed some light on that. Did she help Pestilence in any way?”
He nodded. “It was her idea to trick The Aegis into taking Thanatos’s virginity so his Seal would break. She wrote the document that made them think a baby was the key to averting the Apocalypse.”
Turned out, the baby had been that key. He’d also been the key to breaking Than’s Seal and starting the Apocalypse. Logan had come into the world with a lot of weight on his tiny shoulders.
Reaver frowned. “Were you aware that Regan can sense emotion when she touches ink on skin or parchment?”
“No, why?”
“Because she confirmed that whoever penned the note believed every word they wrote. So if what you’re saying is true, Harvester knew all along that Than’s virginity wasn’t his agimortus.”
Reseph sucked in a harsh breath. “So she knew the baby was.” He rubbed his temples, trying to get a grip on this new information. If she’d known, why hadn’t she told Pestilence? He hadn’t figured it out until later. Something wasn’t adding up.
“Whether she’d known or not, it’s clear she was helping Pestilence, which is a broken Watcher rule,” Reaver said.
“Maybe that’s why she got taken off Watcher duty and replaced by the douchebag.”
Reaver looked troubled. “Maybe. But it seems like overkill to have her dragged to hell for the punishment.”
“She’s being tortured,” he said. “Lilith said Lucifer wants something from her. Something with the power to draw out Pestilence. Do you know what it could be?”
Reaver’s frown deepened. “No idea.”
The party music started up again, Reseph’s cue to get out of there. A year ago he’d have joined in, started up a game of volleyball or some sort of drinking challenge. Now he wanted to join in, but he wanted Jillian with him. He’d take her out in the waves to surf, and maybe he’d mess with her a little underwater, where no one but she would know what his hands were doing. Later, when everyone was gone, he’d make love to her on the beach with all the reverence she deserved.
A pang of loneliness and loss ripped through him. “Thank you,” he said to Reaver. “Thanks for giving me Jillian for a little while.” He regarded his father, wishing he’d known the truth sooner. Like—when he’d been a child would have been good. “It was you, wasn’t it? The night she was attacked, she said she heard wings. You were there.”
“Yes.” He touched Reseph’s hair with surprising fondness. “It was hard to keep track of Pestilence, since he was so often in Sheoul. But that night—”
“That night he was hunting Aegi,” Reseph said, remembering the dozen Guardians who’d lost their lives over the course of a couple of hours.
Reaver nodded. “I was finally able to catch up with him. I’m the reason Pestilence was interrupted that night. I might have whispered in a cop’s ear that he should do a routine patrol of that lot.”
Pestilence and the demons had taken off since their victims had been pretty much used up anyway. The sick bastard.
“Let go of the guilt over what happened that night,” Reaver said. “It wasn’t you. You and Jillian both needed each other to heal what Pestilence did.”
“I needed her. She didn’t need me.”
“You’re wrong,” Reaver murmured.
Reseph didn’t think so, but he didn’t feel like arguing. He had to find a place to live, kill a few more of Pestilence’s asshole buddies, and hang out in Jillian’s barn like a loser.
Yep, his calendar was full.
Full of suck.
Jillian didn’t answer the phone for two days. She’d never ignored Stacey’s calls before, but how was she supposed to explain what had happened with Reseph? The situation wasn’t exactly your typical breakup.
So… my boyfriend killed a lot of people.
No, that didn’t have the proper ring to it.
Turns out that my lover murdered millions of people.
Better, but still didn’t quite achieve that jaw-dropping horror factor.
Before I found him frozen in a snowdrift, my half-demon lover tortured and slaughtered men, women, and children by the millions.
Perfect. And as Stacey’s old Bronco pulled up to the house, Jillian braced herself for the I-told-you-so. But first she had to get through the why-the-hell-haven’t-you-answered-the-phone lecture.
Sure enough, the second Jillian opened the door, Stacey lit into her.
“Why the hell haven’t you answered the phone? Do you know how worried I’ve been? I was sure you were dead in the woods somewhere!” Stacey took a break to breathe, looking Jillian up and down. “And when is the last time you combed your hair or showered or got dressed?”