Immortal Rider

Thirty-six

Reaver stood atop Mount Megiddo and cursed. Cursed until clouds swirled above him in an angry black vortex, and then he cursed some more. He couldn’t get to Heaven, not until his wings grew back. This was like being an Unfallen again, stuck between realms and practically powerless.

At least here he could call to his Heavenly brethren… assuming they’d answer. His body was full of marrow wine—but not enough. He craved it so bad he was shaking, and he either needed to score some more or get clean, and right now his brain was too pickled to consider the clean thing.

His scalp grew tight, and he turned as a strike of lightning torched the earth a few yards away. When it was gone, Harvester stood there with a burlap bag in her hand, her eyes glowing, her lips as blood red as the wine she’d forced down his throat.

“Someone’s a little pissed.”

Pissed didn’t cover it, and it took every ounce of restraint Reaver had not to launch himself at her. “What have you done?”

Cocking her head, Harvester smiled at him. “You just found out why I kept you prisoner, I see.” Thunder cracked, and rain pelted them with big, stinging drops. With a wave, she cast an invisible umbrella that shielded them both. “We couldn’t very well have you telling The Aegis not to send anyone to fuck Thanatos, now could we?”

Some of his fury evaporated, replaced by a sudden suspicion. She didn’t seem at all upset that Than’s Seal hadn’t broken, which told him she’d known it wouldn’t. Ending the Horseman’s celibacy hadn’t been the goal, had it?

“How did you know that his Seal wouldn’t break?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course I thought it would break.”

She was lying. But why? He looked up at the churning clouds and then back down at the evil fallen angel and realization dawned. “You know what Thanatos’s agimortus is, don’t you?”

“No idea.”

“You lie.” He lunged ,for her, but without his wings, she was faster, and his hand closed on empty air.

She stood three yards away, smirking. “I would never lie. I’m outraged that you would think that of me.”

“Outraged, my holy ass.” He ground his teeth. “How is it that you know about Thanatos’s agimortus and I don’t?”

“I’m special. You’re an angel with no memory of his past and with especially dirty wings. Oh, wait, you don’t have any wings at all, do you?” She reached into the bag she was holding. “Brought you something. Enjoy.” She tossed a bottle at him, and he caught it one-handed before realizing he should have let it break apart on the rocks.

Marrow wine. The flask burned his skin, almost as if it were sinking roots into his palm. Rain began to pelt him. Harvester was gone.

The wine… he watched in horror as his body disconnected from his mind, watched as he uncorked the flask and lifted it to his lips.

Stronger than this. I’m stronger than this.

The words penetrated his brain, but not because they were true. It was because he’d said them before, and he’d been wrong. But when? Why? The hazy memory was about as substantial as a phantom and harder to pin down. But the fact that he had any recollection, no matter how fuzzy, was a miracle.

Maybe a touch of Arik’s military-honed ability to recall important details was what had clung to Reaver when Gethel had separated his soul from the human’s. Interesting.

A thousand bursts of pain shot through his hand, and he looked down to see that he’d squeezed the flask so hard it had shattered. Clay shards were embedded in his palm, wrist, and fingers. Marrow wine mingled with blood and rain and ran down his arm and puddled on the parched ground at his feet.

Part of him wanted to get down on his knees and lick the wine before it seeped into the dirt. Somehow, he resisted.

Harvester was not going to win again.

Harvester flashed back to her place, where Whine was waiting for her, head bowed, eyes downcast. She’d been in a shitty mood when she’d found Reaver at Mount Megiddo, where he’d been cursing up a storm. Literally. She hadn’t wanted to see him again so soon after dropping him off, but orders were orders, and only a fool ignored Lucifer.

Feed his addiction, Lucifer had said. Keep him sodden. Easier said than done. Although she’d fed Reaver a steady diet of marrow wine while she had him in chains, he’d never asked for it, even when withdrawal tremors and fever set in. She’d stood nearby, wine in hand, waiting for him to beg.

Never once had he done so. She’d been forced to overpower him and dribble it into his mouth. Once he tasted the wine, he took it freely, but he’d possessed the incredible ability to never ask for it.

Such a proud, powerful angel.

She both admired and despised him for that.

Bitterness stung her tongue as she beckoned Whine to her. In a heartbeat he was before her, kneeling and kissing her feet. The scrape of his teeth on her skin infuriated her—the only time he was ever even a little careless in the way he touched her was when the full moon was rising in his native Hungary, which meant that she’d need to release him for three days in order for him to work off his warg energy.

Dammit. This day just kept getting better and better. Eons of planning was coming together and yet… it was so close to falling apart.

Arranging for the Aegis girl to get pregnant had been one massive gamble.

In nine months, that gamble would either pay off for Harvester or ruin her.

In nine months, the Apocalypse would either be averted… or it would break the world.