Chapter 3

Three

KOHL

M any of the beings who dwell within the safety of Fate’s Falls are long-living species. Much longer than humans. Some are ageless and immortal. Thus, I am not often required in the magically protected town. That doesn’t prevent me from returning. Regularly. I cannot stay away from Shay.

Reaping is a solitary existence, but the aloneness I first experienced after leaving Shay in the earthly plane fifteen years ago is nothing compared to when I left her in the Goodwin witch’s yard several days ago. After being face-to-face with her again, the frequency of my visits has increased to occupy every moment of available time. And then some.

Souls continue to call from the in-between, but I don’t hasten to tend them. There are enough reapers to fulfill the duties. My brethren can guide the departed to their next destinations. The pull toward Shay is the call I choose to answer. Whatever this endless yearning is, I need to address it before it interferes to the point of failing my purpose entirely.

Nighttime’s blanket is wrapped around the town already when I materialize in Shay’s backyard. Lights inside her house throw diffused beams through the glass, making fuzzy bands of soft white on the grass. I stand beyond them, masked in darkness, waiting for her to step out the back door with a garbage bag, as she always does at this time of night. Part of her evening routine, which I know as well as if it were my own.

“Not happening, Cookie. Back inside you go,” she says to the ginger cat who attempts to follow her outside. “I know Minerva let you wander at all hours, but that’s now how things work in this witch’s house.”

I wait until the door clicks with the cat safely contained before addressing her. “Sounds like things are going well with your new housemate.”

Shay’s shriek cuts the silent air, the sound immediately followed by a loud feline yowl through the screened window where Cookie sits. Her protector’s protest subsides when his feline gaze locks on my form.

“Kohl?” Shay says when I step out from the cover of shadows. “What are you doing here?” The whites of her eyes become more prominent in the darkness as she stares at me. “Oh shit, are you here for me this time? Because I’m not ready. I have to call my mom. And make arrangements for the mew crew in there.” She hooks her thumb toward the house. “At least let me write a note.”

“I’m not here to reap your soul,” I say, moving toward her. “Even so, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to make those arrangements. No mortal being knows when their time in this plane will end, even a seer. Reapers can’t pause the transition process to afford the newly departed time to make calls and write notes.”

“Oh really? You did a lot more than pause the process for me.” The challenge in her voice doesn’t mask the underlying softness.

I like both tones equally. “You’re unique.”

“Not so unique, since you brought my friend Dela back, too,” she says, continuing toward a silver trash can near the fence. “Which I’m thankful for, by the way. Dela is a truly good person who deserved the opportunity to have a happy life, and now she has one.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” I wait until Shay has finished with her chore and is in front of me again before I continue. “But your circumstances were not the same. The Oracle chose to give Dela the opportunity to return to her mortal life and come to Fate’s Falls.”

Shay’s smile beams in the moonlight. “I told Dela fate had a hand in the direction her life took.”

“As it does in all things, even if less directly.” The words have barely left me when the realization hits. Perhaps my actions were part of the Oracle’s plan for Shay all along.

“Hey, if you have any way of getting a message to the Oracle, would you say thank you on my behalf? I’m not sure why I got a second chance at life, but I’m sure fate had a reason. Any chance you know what it is?” The lightness in her voice is reflected in her expression—until I fail to respond. At my silence, she shutters her gaze, crossing her arms over her chest.

I don’t have to reach for her soul to know she is raising her walls to protect herself from being hurt. Walls she had lowered for me, whether consciously or not.

“The Oracle did not direct me to return your soul to this realm.”

Her beautiful eyes blink slowly. Once. Twice. Then open wide. “You were supposed to let me die that night?”

“That is what I believed, yes. A reaper’s duty is to guide souls to their next place. I should not have been present at your death, yet I was called to your soul here, in this plane, while you were mortal.”

Her dark, curly hair floats over her shoulders with the shake of her head. “I don’t understand any of this, including why you’re telling me.”

“Because I want you to know.”

“To know what, Kohl?”

That I love you. “The Oracle works in many ways, some direct and others, less so. Whether I truly used free will and defied the intended order of things, or my actions were subconsciously guided by the Oracle, it was the only time I have made such a decision. I chose to return your soul to your body, to bring you to Fate’s Falls. Once in all of my existence, Shay.”

“If it’s such a monumental thing, why did you wait fifteen years to tell me?”

“It was never my intention to share this information with you.”

“I see,” she says, though she cannot possibly, when even I don’t understand.

The casual sweatpants and t-shirt she’s wearing are vastly different from the clothing she chooses for public. I’ve watched her enough to know the polished exterior, along with her aloofness, is a form of armor. Though always beautiful, it’s her fiery spirit and the compassionate heart she works so hard to hide that call to me. Yet, when she takes a deep breath, causing her full breasts to rise and stretch the fabric taut, the parts of me which are currently man physically react to her exterior beauty. Beneath my cloak, my cock hardens, as it has only ever done for Shay.

“I don’t know if you ever have to rest, but it’s late for me, so…” She tilts her head toward the back door. No further questions or demands for answers to the ones I skirted. Just a statement of exit. Dismissal.

I do not know what I expected from this visit, or what could possibly happen between us. With nothing to guide me, I’m at a loss to say anything other than, “Goodnight, Shay,” and watch her disappear into her house.

SHAY

“Is everything okay with you?” Dela asks when I follow her into the staffroom at the end of our Thursday shift at The Brew . “I’m starting to feel guilty for taking time to breathe because you literally haven’t stopped going all week long. You’ve been on a mission every single minute.”

“There’s a lot to do, and I hate when anything slips off my plate.”

Sitting in the chair across from me, she pauses untying her black canvas work shoes to stare at me from beneath one highly arched eyebrow. “You’re the most efficient manager I’ve ever worked with, anywhere. Nothing slips off your plate. Nothing even gets near the edge of your plate.”

“And I don’t want it to. I have to stay on top of things; we’re up almost twenty percent over last year’s numbers.” Now it’s my turn to issue the raised eyebrow, only I do both, adding a wiggling motion. “Though, that bump could be from your big red demon who only began coming in for coffee when you started working here.”

Dela tosses her balled-up barista apron at me. She’s beaming, though. Love, happiness, and feeling truly safe looks good on her. “Raz hasn’t bought that many coffees. Now that you mention it, though, I have noticed we’re getting more daytime traffic the past couple of months. I thought it might be a seasonal thing.”

“I’ve worked here since I moved to town, and we’ve never had noticeable seasonal changes in transaction numbers or revenue. Always steady growth from year to year, though this is a significantly bigger increase than any previously.”

“Fates Falls does have a bunch of new residents, even since I moved here. I guess we all love coffee?” Her laughter is always light and melodic, and now is no different. The sound tapers off to a sigh, and her expression returns to one of gentle, friendly concern. “But you haven’t been squeezing maximum productivity out of every minute because you’re in mega-manager mode. I know what inner turmoil looks like, and even your mask slips once in a while. You’ve been such a good friend to me, and I want to be the same for you. So, if something’s on your mind and talking might help, you can trust me to keep it just between us.”

If I can trust anyone—other than my mom, who is twenty-five-hundred miles away on the opposite side of the continent—it’s Dela. Other than my mom, Dela is the only person I’ve risked skin-to-skin contact with since the December day I touched a serial killer’s hand and saw things that changed my life forever. When I looked into Dela’s future, everything was beautiful. Peaceful. Full of love. It was almost enough to make me reconsider my complete ban on physical contact. The nightmare I had later that night jolted that little dash of hopefulness from my mind.

“Walk and talk around the square before you go home?” I say when the noise from The Brew increases, as it does every day at this time.

The Brew continues serving coffee on the cafe side until six p.m., but the brew pub side of the business gets rolling at four o’clock. On any given weekday, the pub side will be in full swing by the time Dela and I toss our aprons in the basket, change our shoes, and head out the door.

Dela nods and returns to swapping her work runners for a pair of white canvas sandals with a yellow sunshine pattern. A gift from Raz. One of many. Intimidating as her revenge-demon boyfriend is, he’s a total sweetheart for Dela. A sweetheart who would literally tear someone to pieces if she ever asked him to, but has sworn off violence otherwise.

I finish zipping my knee-high leather boots, then lead the way out through the growing crowd. I only manage the coffee side of The Brew , but I should ask my boss if the pub side’s numbers have seen a big jump too. Or maybe I’ll just ask my managerial equivalent on the brew pub side. I’d probably get the answer faster. I’ve seen less and less of The Brew ’s owner since the hulking Minotaur met his fated mate.

Love is in full bloom in Fate’s Falls lately.

Familiar faces smile, and all manner of hands, paws, claws, etc. wave as Dela and I pass. A lot of those appendages belong to romantically unattached people, a few of whom have asked me out over the years. Declining was easy. I’d made my decision and most of the time, didn’t feel like I was missing out.

Watching everyone I consider a friend fall head over heels—or hooves—in love has made the solitary life sting a little. More than a little. I don’t remember what it feels like to kiss someone. Or any of the other things. Solo time only takes the physical edge off. It doesn’t replace the simple intimacies.

“Yoo-hoo, Shay…” Dela waves a hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my internal pity party.

Blinking, I look around and find we’ve walked the length of a full block. Autopilot. It’s how I get through all the shitty stuff. Through a lot of life.

“It’s okay if you just want to walk and not talk,” she says when all I do is stare straight ahead. “But I’m worried about you, so I’m probably going to keep trying to help.” She’s a true friend. More like a sister, which I’ve told her before.

Except, I’m the older one. I should be the helper, the advice giver, not the other way around.

Another long stretch passes in silence. But I do want to talk. I need to talk this stuff out, and not over a phone call with my mom.

“I was the only seer in my family’s coven,” I say, focusing on the rhythmic cadence of our synchronized footsteps. “The older witches call it a special gift, but it sucks. It sucks to have no other magic when everyone around you has powers. It sucks to get visions of the future whenever I touch someone’s skin.”

“Of course it does. Who would want that? It sounds horrible.”

“Right?” I say, turning my head to meet her eyes. “Special gift, my ass.”

She tilts her head to glance at my butt, then winks at me. “Don’t insult your ass like that. It’s pretty spectacular.”

Without thinking, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and squeeze. I’m wearing my gloves, but with both of us in short-sleeved shirts, the possibility of skin contact is still there, even if slight. I’m not afraid of what I might see because I’ve already looked into Dela’s future. The only bad thing that’s going to happen is her eventual death, and that’s in the distance, after a long and happy life.

“You—you’re—this,” she stammers, her eyes nearly bugging out of her face. When I drop my arm, she stops in front of me on the sidewalk, waving her hands around, seeming unable to assemble the desired words.

“I should’ve asked. I didn’t intend to hug you. It just… I guess I needed it, and you’re kind of the only safe place I have and—” The next sound out of my mouth is an “oof,” when Dela pulls me into a real hug. The kind with both arms wrapped around me.

Goddess, it feels good to be close to someone. To be comforted.

I am not going to cry. Not. Going. To. Cry.

There’s no controlling it. The warmth rolls down my cheeks, unstoppable. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a hug,” I whisper against her hair. “Fifteen years.”

“That’s not right, Shay. You can have as many of my hugs as you want, okay? Anytime. I will always be your safe place.”

Nodding, I pull away, swiping my fingers across my face before anyone in the vicinity might see. As nice as it is to have Dela’s concern, I don’t want anybody else’s.

“Pretend you’re looking at your phone while I pop into Amazra’s bakery for a sec. I’ll grab a couple of her Carolina reaper scones. It’ll give us an excuse to have watery eyes.”

Following her suggestion, I slide my phone out of my back pocket and focus on it until she reappears and hands me a scone missing its tip. The one she keeps looks the same. “Had to taste test both?” I ask.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d actually want to eat something this spicy—I sure can’t—so I ripped off bite-sized chunks on my way past the garbage can.”

“This crafty sneakiness is a whole side of you I didn’t know existed,” I tease, as we resume our walk, heading for the town square.

“Therapy has helped me reconnect with the person I was before I became a spineless, quivering doormat for my ex. And now that I have Raz…” There are practically stars in her eyes when she sighs. “He makes it so easy to just be myself. But enough about me. We always talk about me. Unless we’re discussing your seemingly endless selection of sexy boots.”

“Boots are life,” I say, and she laughs. Crossing the grass in the immaculately manicured parkette, I move my mouth in chewing motions for the bite of scone I didn’t actually take. Faking is second nature. Has been since I was a young witch who wanted to feel like part of the coven instead of a useless oddity.

There’s nobody at the fountain, and the gentle water noise will give some cover to my voice, so I lead us there and sit on the concrete lip.

“Short version—I left my coven, moved to a city three and a half hours away to have a ‘normal’ life and realized that wasn’t possible because of the seer thing. I won’t go into detail about how unsexy it is to see someone’s future while you’re in the moment .”

Dela’s nose scrunches up, her lips pursing as if she just drank straight lemon juice. “It happens every time?”

“Yup. If there’s a way to control it, I don’t have the ability.”

“What if you were drunk? Not that I’m suggesting you should be drunk every time you want to get intimate with someone.”

“Tried it,” I confess. “Turns out, seeing someone’s future is instantly sobering.”

Again, Dela grimaces. “That’s why you stopped touching people.”

“No, that was just an annoying side effect.” Lowering the uneaten scone to my lap, I shake my head. Take a deep breath. “I’d decided to move back to my hometown and try to embrace my place in the coven, limited as it was. But I was literally down to my last dollar, and too embarrassed and proud—aka, stupid—to ask my mom for money for a bus ticket. So I set up a table at a psychic fair to make some quick money, which is a big no-no. A witch isn’t supposed to profit from their magic. I told myself it didn’t really count, since everyone would think I was just another fake fortune teller. The last person who asked for a reading?—”

Good person that she is, Dela waits silently while I close my eyes, fortifying myself for what comes next. Details I’ve only shared with Kohl and my mom.

“He was a serial killer.” I speak the words quietly, and not because anyone is around to hear. Just saying it aloud floods me with doom. As if talking about that man might summon him somehow, though, logically, I know that’s impossible. Even if he found out I survived the fall that night, he can’t get to me here. “I didn’t just see his future, the horrible things he’d do to other women; I saw my future too, because I would’ve been one of his victims.”

“Oh my god.” Dela’s arms wrap around me again. A sideways hug that causes her hand to brush my arm.

The skin-to-skin contact conjures images of Dela’s happy future to slide through my mind, pushing the horrific memories away. “Thank you.” Simple words that don’t convey how much I mean them. But I think she can tell, because she keeps her arms around me until I shift out of her embrace.

“That’s why you’re in Fate’s Falls,” Dela says softly. “I’m so glad you got away before the visions could become reality.”

This is the part that hurts more than any other. “Some of the visions have happened. I recognized the victims on the news.”

“It’s not your fault, Shay. You know that, right?”

“Rationally, sure. But every time I see another familiar face in a missing persons’ report or murder case, I’m flooded with guilt. I tried to prevent all the visions from happening. I knew from the one of myself that he’d be waiting outside for me after the event ended. I let him believe he was successfully trailing me and led him to an abandoned train bridge over the Monongahela River. I’d explored it once, while out for a walk; I knew it had gaping holes. Everything was pitch dark—the sky, the bridge, the river. I didn’t think he’d be able to see the opening. I thought he’d grab me and we’d both fall the fifty feet to the river. But he must’ve jumped it at the last second. I fell, he didn’t. He lived, I didn’t.”

The gasp that leaves Dela’s mouth, even with her hand covering it, is loud enough to draw the attention of people twenty feet across the green space. “Sorry,” she says when they look away.

I flap a gloved hand at her. “I’d be concerned if you didn’t react like that. It’s a hell of a story—minus the hell for him, unfortunately.”

Her big eyes open wide. “That’s how you know the reaper who brought me back. He’s the one who brought you back, too.”

“Yeah, Kohl was there.” And this is where I could end the story. It’d be enough to have a friend who understands why I am the way I am. But goddess, I could use an opinion on the feelings I’m having. “Kohl didn’t just give me my life back that night. He stayed with me, shielding me from view with his reaper magic, comforting me while I cried for hours. Then he did his poof thing and brought me here, where I’d be safe.”

“Wow.”

“I know. It’s a lot.”

“But there’s more, isn’t there? All of that is backstory. The stuff I need to know before the part that you’ve been busting your ass trying to avoid thinking about.”

“Trying and failing,” I say, rolling my head side to side and getting no relief for the bundles of knots in my neck.

“Well, don’t even think about damming the flow now.” She picks off a chunk of scone and tosses it at me. “Cliffhangers not allowed. I need the rest of this story.”

“That’s the thing. There shouldn’t be more to the story. And I thought there wasn’t, until I was out for my predawn walk with Rune on Saturday morning, and Kohl was waiting for me at Minerva Goodwin’s house.”

“You left that detail out of the story when you told it on Monday. You said ‘a reaper’ gave you Minerva’s message about taking her cat. No wonder you’ve been distracted. Seeing him again stirred up all the horrible old memories.”

I’ve unloaded enough heavy shit on her. No need to tell her those memories are always close to the surface. “See, the thing is…I’ve kind of fantasized him over the years.”

“Ooh, we’ve arrived at the juicy part of the story.”

“Girl, please. There is no juice. My glass has been devoid of juice for fifteen long years, remember?”

“But you’ve thought about having a full cup. A cup filled with Kohl’s juice.” She giggles when I swat at her. “Tell me I’m wrong. I won’t believe you, but go ahead and deny it if it makes you feel better.”

“I’m not denying it.” I roll my eyes when she silently makes a cheering motion. “I was sure my brain latched on to Kohl because he’s good and safely out of reach, in every conceivable way.”

“You said ‘was.’ Did seeing him again the other night make you wonder if there’s more to it?”

“Yes,” I say, my cheeks heating at the admission. At all the things those fantasies have included, and how those thoughts were at the forefront of my mind both times I recently saw Kohl.

Dela spins her finger in a get-on-with-it motion. “I know there’s more. And that you’re itching to tell me.”

I simultaneously love and hate that she’s on to me. “He was in my backyard last night.”

Dela jerks back, her bottom lip dropping. “Why?”

“To tell me he brought me back without the Oracle’s direction, like he had for you, and to say I’m the only person he’s ever acted to make that choice for.”

“And then what?” she asks, leaning in.

“Then I told him it was late, and I went back inside my house.”

“You’re kidding, right? You didn’t just turn around and walk away after he told you that.”

I angle my body so she has a fully direct view of my stone-cold-serious face. “Girl, do I look like I’m kidding?”

Dela’s ginger hair shimmers in the late-day sunshine as she shakes her head. “And now? What are you going to do about it?”

“Do about what?”

“About your massive regret.”

Scoffing, I stand and point down the street, toward The Brew , where her car is parked. “Right now, I’m regretting telling you.” In my peripheral vision, I see her smiling at me. Not calling me out, though. She’s too nice to do that.

“If you’re not ready to address your feelings,” she says as we walk, “let’s analyze his. Because he obviously has some where you’re concerned. There’s no other explanation for his actions. Or his forthright honesty.”

“Forthright, huh. You’re starting to sound like your giant red boyfriend.” I shoot her a smirk. “Though I’m surprised you two find time to talk.”

She remains tight-lipped, but the blush flooding her face is an answer in itself. Teasing her about being hot for the grumpy revenge demon is part of our dynamic. I know she doesn’t mind, but it’ll keep for another day. Probably tomorrow, when Raz comes in for his daily coffee that he barely sips from. Even though they’re living together now, he still can’t seem to make it through her workday without seeing her.

I’d be jealous if I wasn’t so happy for her.

Fine, I can multi-task. I’m jealous and happy for her.

When we reach her car, she leans against it instead of getting inside. Meaning I’m still on the hook for an answer that’ll satisfy her.

“Kohl is a reaper. One of the first. I’m a thirty-six-year-old seer with legit intimacy issues. If there was a supernatural dating app, we wouldn’t be a match.”

“Because neither of you would be on it.”

“True,” I say, snorting a laugh.

“But you like him.”

When she continues to stare a hole in me, I release a long breath. “Also true.”

“And you trust him.”

“Of course I do. Reapers are neutral beings. There’s no reason not to trust them.”

Tsk ing, she waves her index finger back and forth. “Don’t play word games. Not ‘reapers,’ collectively. This reaper.”

“Hello, Ms. Sassy,” I say, crossing my arms. “Fine, put a check mark in all the yes boxes for Kohl. I like him. I’m comfortable with him. What I can see of him, I find very appealing. Even if he felt the same way, what could possibly come of it?”

She giggles. “You, hopefully. Him too, if reapers have the biology for it.”

“What a naughty girl you’ve become. I approve, but I think your sexed-up brain forgot an important detail.” I wiggle my gloved hands in front of her. “I can’t touch him. A reaper is forever. I can’t even imagine how many visions I might have.”

“So don’t touch him.” She shrugs. “Sure, it won’t be the same as a traditional relationship, but look around,” she says, with the sweep of an arm. “If ever there was a place to embrace differences, this is it. Plus, I seem to recall someone—and PS, it was you—telling me that if fate’s plan for you includes a certain person, it’ll keep putting that person in your path. If Kohl is that person for you, maybe you should see where the path leads instead of running in the other direction.”