Kim Harrison - Early to Death, Early to Rise

Ron gave Paul an inferior amulet? Why am I not surprised? Nakita was laughing, and even Barnabas snickered. “How come you were on my roof?” I asked, eyes fixed on the sparkling jewel as Barnabas turned the blade so it caught the dim light from the front porch.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Barnabas said, starting to wield the sword, testing the blade’s balance with a series of rapid, intricate swings almost too fast to follow, his duster furling as he moved. I was used to the angel’s proficiency, but Paul was staring with openmouthed awe. The sword had been created by Paul’s amulet, and until he drew the energy back into the stone, his amulet would be diminished. I’d once taken control of Nakita’s amulet by seizing her sword. Paul had a right to be concerned.

“Give me back my sword!” Paul said, and Barnabas looked him up and down as he stopped swinging. The anger in Barnabas’s eyes was new, and I didn’t like seeing it there.

“Why were you on the dark timekeeper’s roof?” Barnabas demanded, and I realized how much it had bothered him. It bothered me, too, and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Nakita, we pinned Paul against the fence. Behind him, Sandy whined. It was starting to rain in earnest, and I swear I could smell wet feathers.

Paul was silent, his eyes glinting in the lamplight as his chin rose. I put a hand on my hip, almost ready to let Nakita have her way, when a faint voice from inside shouted, “Madison?”

Crap, it was my dad. Wincing, I looked up at my bright window. It had sounded like he’d called from downstairs, but that could change really fast.

“I’ll take care of it,” Barnabas said as he handed me Paul’s sword. It was warm in my grip, slick from the rain, and again I was struck by how wrong it felt in my grasp. After giving a warning look to Nakita for her to behave, Barnabas jogged to the front door and rang the bell.

“Get back in the shadows,” Nakita hissed, and I shifted to stand in the narrow overhang of the garage. This was where I usually got onto the roof when sneaking back in, and I fumbled for the two dog biscuits I had on the garage windowsill, throwing one over the fence to keep Sandy occupied while my dad answered the door. Paul ducked as the dog treat went sailing over his head, the tips of his hair dripping.

“You can’t touch me,” he said to Nakita, though he, too, looked anxious not to get caught.

“She can outright kill you,” I said bluntly, and Grace sighed heavily. “It was a reaper blade that killed me.”

Paul’s eyes widened, and Nakita smirked. “Didn’t know that, did you?” she whispered as my dad opened the front door and Barnabas said hello.

“There once was a man with an ego,” Grace sang softly, slowly losing altitude until she landed on the filthy windowsill, “who thought that he was a big hero. Like a dark reaper, he scythed a timekeeper. But it only made him a big zero.”

She was talking about Kairos, the timekeeper whose amulet I now had. He’d not only tried to kill me to retain the position, but he’d killed his predecessor to gain the title early.

Paul was properly cowed, so I edged to the front of the garage to peek around the corner. A shaft of light spilled out into the dreary night, illuminating Barnabas and seeming to make him glow around the edges. I knew it was my imagination, but my dad looked pale by comparison.

“Hi, Mr. A,” Barnabas said, sounding completely normal. “I know it’s late, but I have to take Nakita home.”

A pang of guilt struck me, and I winced when my dad’s silhouette eclipsed the light and his rumbling voice said, “I thought she was spending the night. Come on in.”

“She was,” Barnabas said as he wiped his feet and went inside. “But she didn’t—”

The door shut, and I never heard the lie.

“Gabriel’s broken feathers,” Nakita swore, glancing at the window. “Now I have to go make an appearance. Madison, will you be okay?”

“Sure,” I said, hefting Paul’s sword. “Just don’t take too long.” I was going to give Paul his sword back as soon as she got out of sight. If he tried anything after that, Grace would keep him tripping over his own feet.

Unaware of my plans, Nakita gave him a vehement look to behave. Slipping out past the garage roof, she jumped almost straight up, grabbing the overhang of the garage and swinging herself up like a star athlete. It was how I got up there, but I needed the trash can to do it. I was a lot less graceful, too. Getting to her feet, she brushed the grit from her jeans and made the short hop to my window. I heard, more than saw, her slip inside. Alone at last…

“If he tries anything,” Grace said from beside me, “I’m going to sic Sandy on him.”

I didn’t want to know how she was planning on getting Sandy past the fence. It might involve lightning. Exhaling a breath I’d probably taken two minutes ago, I looked Paul over. “Here,” I said, handing him his sword, the point down. “Sorry. Nakita is a little intense.”

“Madison!” Grace exclaimed, turning three shades brighter, and I ignored her.

Sure enough, Paul didn’t make the smart decision. “I won’t let you kill again!” he shouted, and I sprang away as he leaped forward, my back hitting the side of the garage. Something that felt like cold, black feathers slid through me, and I gasped.

“Hey!” I yelled as I realized he had taken a swing at me. “What’s your problem, dude?” I exclaimed, ticked as Sandy barked furiously.

Grace was laughing, her voice rising up out of my range of hearing as her glow wildly shifted through the spectrum. I, though, failed to see the humor.

Paul was staring at me, his sword tight in his grip as the rain made trails down his face. “I hit you! I know I hit you!” he said, sounding betrayed. “It went right through you, and you’re okay! You really are dead!”

“You think?” I said sharply as I tugged at my shirt to see if he’d cut it. Grace was rolling on the grass, a violent red as she laughed. “You want to be dead, too? Just keep it up, you nutcase. What the devil is wrong with you?”

Still he stared, backing up until he hit the fence. Sandy jumped at him, and he took a distracted step forward, wet dog prints probably all over his back. “Ron said you were,” he stammered.

“He does occasionally tell the truth.” Fortunately Paul’s sword was designed to sever souls, not cloth. My shirt was okay. “Do you have any idea how much this cost me?” I asked, relieved I wouldn’t have to explain a foot-long tear to my dad. “Just because you run around looking like Luke Skywalker doesn’t mean the rest of us want to dress in rags!”

“Paul was a rising timekeeper, who wanted to be like a reaper. He swung his big sword, like a medieval lord, and it made him look like a creep-er.”

“That almost makes sense, Grace,” I said, and she found the air again. She glowed softly, and a sifting of dust fell from her as she got rid of the rain dampening her wings.

Paul’s eyes darted around when he realized I wasn’t as alone as I looked. Unsure, he was silent until our eyes met. “You’re not what I thought you’d be.”

I shrugged, leaning back against the garage to stay out of the rain and crossing my arms over my chest until I realized it made me look vulnerable, and I put my thumbs in my pockets instead. “Ron told you I was death on roller skates?” I said, still huffy over the sword thing. “Did he tell you that he lied to me about who I was? After I was dead and everything? Did he tell you how he hid my existence from the seraphs so they couldn’t give me my body back and I couldn’t go back to living? I’m dead, Paul, and it sucks.”

Paul dropped his eyes. Grace, too, was silent, probably remembering her part in all of it. Ron had used her as well. A soft roll of thunder came distantly, and the streetlight shone on Paul’s wet hair. It looked black now, but when I’d seen him in the desert, it had been brown.