Soulbound

42. Ashe

I should have known that Dani summoning me through a backdoor would bring Public Affairs sniffing around, but with a backlog of cases it normally took a few days before they acted on any leads. I guess the First Precinct has been emphasizing efficiency of late.

I might have been impressed at their response time if I was not already caught up in a battle with two of their agents. And if my body was not still trying to heal itself from Catalina's so-called surgery, or from the silver that had poisoned my blood and nearly ended me, then this would not be such a struggle.

“It was a mistake to let you become a Reaper,” one of the witches snaps as he struggles to free his arm from my chain. “The Tribunal should've ended your life centuries ago!”

I grit my teeth as I shake off his attempt at a binding spell, two curved blades emerging from the back of my wrists. “They had their chance.”

The second witch snorts as he tugs on the chain wrapped around his arm. “Maybe back then, cambion, but you've outlived your usefulness. You just don't know it yet!”

He could only be referring to one thing: the Genesis Project.

I narrow my eyes, a primal growl rattling in my throat at his blatant threat. “I must've missed the memo, then.”

Before either of them can react, I yank my arms back. I can feel the incision in my chest tear open as the force catapults them across the floor like ragdolls, but I clench my jaw against the pain and propel myself off the staircase. My blade skewers the first through the chest as we collide halfway, killing him instantly as his back crashes against the wall. The second had managed to conjure an invisible barrier last minute that deflected my other dagger; the impact from slamming him into the wall still knocked the wind from his lungs and possibly broke a few ribs, if his ragged gasp was any indication.

The lifeless body of his comrade slumps to the ground as I recall the chain, and I'm prepared to slit the last witch's throat when a searing pain rips through my body. Wincing, I glance down at the palm pressed against my wound. A faint purple glow emanates from the witch's fingertips, the intensity pulsating with each twitch of his hand as he twists the psychic knife deeper, ripping through flesh and sinew as it inches its way to my heart. Fucking witches!

“You're on borrowed time, Reaper,” he wheezes, a thin trail of blood dribbling down his chin as he levels his gaze with the fire raging in my own.

I press the edge of my dagger to his throat. “So are you.”

“T-they'll come for you now. The Tribunal will have your head for this!”

“Then let them come.” Manipulating and hunting demons, experimenting with their own Reapers, forcing me to kill anyone who questioned their laws—after dealing with it for four hundred years, I was sick of it all. I was tired of being the monster they made me into. “I'm done playing their games.”

His eyes flick over my shoulder and his brow furrows. “I get why you'd want to hide a demon, but why risk your own necks to protect a human?”

“Because her life is worth more to me than yours.” I drag the blade across his neck without a second thought, watching as the light slowly drains from his eyes before letting his body crumple to the floor. Blood pools around my bare feet and I take a step back, shards of glass crunching under my heels as the Reaper's mark retreats back inside my skin.