Chapter Eight

Two hours later, he was on worst side of Four. Atsuko, the commander in that sector, had called in a sentencing request. Some Demon had gone bat-shit, and now Razor was hot on his trail, glad to have something to kill rather than to think about.

Unlike their neighbor Celeste Nation, and its need to feel superior in every way, Shadow Realm was like any other place in the world; it had its nice areas and it had its slums. Some of the Others liked that, living in less-than-safe conditions. And no matter how much he and his brothers had attempted to better some parts of Shadow Realm for them, they’d refused to move. Shadow Realm was a rich territory, though not in paper money like Celeste Nation. Any money that came in was money that went back into improving the city. Razor, Sin, Edge, and Night made most of their personal income on investments they had all over the world, and off the Night House. They weren’t millionaires, but they had enough to live comfortably. In their world, paper money was almost an afterthought. Land, magical power, and natural resources made up the real wealth everyone was looking for, and Shadow Realm had it in spades. It was good to know that when the day came when the Hellhounds no longer walked the earth, their legacy would go on and Shadow Realm would keep moving forward.

Though, it really didn’t take much to make him happy. In the Underworld, Razor and his brothers had been seen as little more than Erummon’s mutts, his glorified attack dogs, and they were certainly treated as such. Ever since taking over their land in the human realm, that had changed drastically. It was certainly nice to be able to walk down the street without having someone spit out a slew of derogatory terms their way.

When he turned the corner onto the alley where he’d cornered the Semuro Demon, Razor gagged on the smell. It wasn’t only the alley; it was the Demon, too. Death, rot, and days’ old excrement. This one had really gone off the deep end.

Semuros were usually a calm race and looked mostly human, except for the purple horns protruding from the sides of their heads, and their shark-like teeth. A Semuro needed brain matter to sustain themselves, though they could also eat animal parts bought from a butcher shop as part of their diet. They were given two brains a month from the recently deceased, and it was more than enough and more than fair. Sin had done thorough research.

This idiot shaking and mumbling apologies had broken more than one law. He’d gone on a day trip to the outskirts of Shadow Realm, thinking no one would ever find out about his mini-vacation. An entire rural village of deer Shifters had lost their lives to this fucker. Some assholes just needed to die.

The Semuro continued to weep and whimper, but Razor didn’t even pause as he strode to him. Faster than the guy could blink, he put two Kremortium bullets in the bastard’s skull. Kremortium, a metal found only in the Underworld, killed anything and anyone by exposure alone. Except Hellhounds, of course. His father being the evil genius (bastard) that he was, didn’t miss that small detail when he fucked with their DNA. Kremortium didn’t kill them like it would any other species, but it was still painful as fuck.

Since it was so damn hard to smuggle out of the Underworld, he had the weapon makers mix it with gold, which was toxic all on its own, but not deadly. Together, the metals destroyed tissue and bone in nanoseconds. He couldn’t say it had been his idea to mix the two; Sin got all the credit on that one.

Relishing the sound of the Semuro’s body dropping with a thump, he was about to put his weapon away when something made him stiffen. His senses went on high alert as he slid farther into the shadows of the alley.

A moment later, the scent of his visitor reached him. Relaxing, Razor grinned and stepped forward.

“I can’t get a moment’s peace with you guys, can I?” Locke said, amusement touching his denim-blue eyes. The Reaper leaned against one of the graffiti-filled walls of the alley, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked as casual as ever, even with a dead body feet way.

He wore his blond hair long, the ends reaching his shoulders, with two thin braids hanging on each side. Still, not even the hair, the short beard, or the tattoos that started below Locke’s clavicle and covered almost the rest of his body could make his face look any less boyish. He was almost pretty, with rosy cheeks, pink lips, and long eyelashes. From what Razor knew, he’d place Locke’s ancestors from one of the old Scandinavian countries.

According to Archer, Locke was the youngest of the three. Which didn’t mean he was a kid. It only meant he wasn’t ancient like Archer or Sasha. He didn’t know how long Reapers lived, but he knew Archer and Sasha were a few centuries old. Probably older than Razor and his brothers.

“You love it and you know it, buddy. Isn’t soul collecting, like, life fulfilling or some shit?” Razor scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “Or was it orgasmic? I can’t remember which one Archer used the other day to describe the experience.”

Because of how often they crossed paths, he considered the Reapers friends. Well, then there was Sasha, and their fucked up song and dance.

Thinking of her brought the memory of her kiss, of the way her smart mouth had tasted, and his cock was instantly half-hard.

Locke’s laugh pulled Razor back from the direction his thoughts had been taking.

“Something like that, I guess. Though, Archer isn’t having the right kind of sex if that’s the case, because it certainly doesn’t compare to the real thing.”

Razor snorted. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

Locke lost his amusement. “Oh gods, no, don’t do that. Then he’ll probably find a way to prove he has ‘incredibly hot’ sex. Probably by conning me into watching him fuck.”

Razor chuckled. “That is very likely.”

“Let me get to work now, will you?”

“By all means.” He gestured gallantly towards the body.

Pushing off the wall, Locke shook his head and strode over to the body. “I was just uptown collecting from Edge. The soul was just floating there, like a firefly. What was left of the body was all ribbons of flesh and…stuff. Your brother is a scary man. ”

“Yes, he is,” he replied proudly. But the info Locke had just dropped worried him a bit. Edge wasn’t the type to leave such a mess. He was a clean-kill type of guy. It was the Guild’s preferred method. Unless, of course, he needed to send a message. It’d been a while since the last time Edge had done so, though. “We wouldn’t have Shadow Realm if we weren’t willing to spill blood,” he added, feeling the need to defend Edge.

Locke crouched next to the body, his fingertip touching the center of the Demon’s chest. “Your rule is a fair one. I wasn’t implying otherwise,” he said, pausing a second later. He stayed there for a moment, then shifted his finger and placed it right over where the Semuro’s heart would be.

After another few seconds, Locke cursed and shot to his feet. He turned to him, frowning. “What did he do?”

“Who? Are we still talking about Edge?” He was confused. Reapers never asked questions about the dead, much less what crime they’d committed. Not like it helped; dead was dead.

“No, this Demon.” Locke’s eyes flicked back and forth between Razor and the body. “What was his crime?”

“He went on a killing spree, decimating the entire cast of Bambi, plus other Disney critters.”

The other man cursed again and then began pacing. “How much do you know about Reapers?”

“Not a whole lot. When it comes to information about yourselves, you fuckers are as tight with it as a virgin ass.”

Locke didn’t even laugh at the joke, which meant whatever Razor was missing was important.

“Reapers don’t have normal souls. When we die, our souls go into this sort of limbo where we wait to be reborn. It’s a cycle. When we come back, we’re always Reapers. And always…us.” He motioned to his body. “Like this. No clean slate for us. But we do have a choice. We can keep coming back as Reapers, or we can try to earn a place in the Realm of Eternity, or the Pit, if that’s your thing. If we choose Eternity, we are then given three souls to save, called Salvae. Plainly put, the Reaper has to ensure the Salvae souls go to Eternity in order to earn their own place in that realm.”

Well, that was news to him. It was still confusing, but it was more than he’d ever gotten before. And the fact that the other man was discussing this with him could only mean bad news. “What if a Reaper chooses the Pit?”

“I don’t really know the specifics.”

“You don’t really know the specifics?” he repeated, eyeing the other man, but didn’t press him on that. “So, why are you telling me this?”

When the Reaper still didn’t speak, only stared at nothing and turned an unbecoming shade of puke, he had to ask, “Why do you look green, Locke?”

As if his words had broken something in the Reaper, Locke’s face crumpled. “You just killed one of Sasha’s Salvae.”

Well, of course I did, Razor thought with a frustrated growl. Why would he catch a break now that things with her had seemed to be improving? The Universe must really hate him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He did not want to ruin the little progress they had already made. But most importantly, he couldn’t afford to. He didn’t want this partnership with Sasha to fail. It would be another point against him.

Panic rose in his gut, and an idea surged.

“Dude, you have to help me hide the body,” he urged Locke.

The look the Reaper threw at him was full of horror and disbelief. “You can’t be serious. You know she’ll know one way or another, right?”

“Yes, yes, but it’ll give me time to think of a good explanation so she doesn’t gut me on the spot.” Razor rushed over to the body, picked up the legs, and motioned for Locke to do the same on the opposite side by making a gesture with his hands. “Dammit, hurry your blond ass up.”

Locke stepped back with his hands raised up in the air. “No, no, Raz. You’re on your own with this one. You can kick my ass if you want, but I won’t hide this from Sasha.”

“Godsdamn you and your integrity, you bastard.” He put as much venom as he could into the words, even though he didn’t really mean them.

Sighing in resignation, he let the legs drop carelessly to the ground. Although he hated knowing that this situation would probably kill any chance he’d had left at making any partnership with her work, he couldn’t blame Locke for his loyalty.

In fact, he actually really liked it. As much as the coming confrontation with Sasha promised to be painful, knowing the other Reapers had her back made Razor respect them even more. And since he wasn’t one to run from his problems, he would face her like the brave man he was.

Running a hand over his buzzed hair, he pulled out a smoke. He lit it, took a long drag, then cupped his balls with his free hand.

“Fuck it, I’m ready. Call her.”