He keeps looking at my hand, his expression now somewhat curious. “My mother held magic. A magic, though not as strong as hers, that she passed on to me. I guess you might call her a priestess though she hid her faith from the white men and women. She used to study people’s palms and tell them what she saw,” he says.
“What do you see in my palm?” I ask, shivering at the feel of his touch.
“I don’t claim to have the understanding my mother did, but… you have been deeply hurt and had your heart bruised, but not broken,” he says, following a line across my palm. As he looks closer at the pad below my thumb, he seems more and more fascinated by what he sees.
“You gain strength from your grandfather. Whenever you felt like giving up, you pressed on for him.”
This went from a cute little amateur palm-reading to some crystal ball shit really fast.
“How do you know that?” I ask incredulously. “I’ve never talked to you about my grandfather. Jesus, I don’t even know if that’s true. I stayed strong for Grampy?”
Leo’s no longer looking at my hand, and I feel his thoughts deep in my heart, even into my soul. He’s reading me. He’s not just learning a thing or two from the geography on my palm; he’s absorbing my deepest thoughts and feelings. My sweet ghost is more than just a dead man.
I could ask another personal question to test him or to find out something about myself, but I decide to get things back on track.
“Will this love last more than one night?” I ask softly.
Leo leans in. “It will last more than one lifetime,” he says.
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until Rowen returns with an apology. “He’s not known for his patience,” she says with a glance toward the vampire she just waited on. “As to your situation. You wouldn’t want my help.”
“Why not?” I ask, my heart plummeting.
“What I do does not bring back the whole essence of a person. Your love would not be the same if I tried.”
I wince. “It would Pet Sematary him?”
She nods, getting a reference that my ghost boy definitely does not.
I sigh. “But there has to be a way. Right? There’s magic everywhere, Leo is the son of a magical priestess, can’t someone cast a spell or something?”
She frowns. “I imagine it’s possible, but it’s beyond my pay grade.”
I’m very close to throwing a few glasses around in frustration, but Leo squeezes my hand, and I take a breath, trying not to let my anger overwhelm me. “Do you have any idea who might be able to help?”
She looks at me for a second and then glances down to the other end of the bar. “See that sexy blue-haired beauty over there?”
I nod, admiring the gorgeous woman with a hoop nose ring who looks distracted by an agitated black cat. It’s so freaking hard to keep my eyes on the prize with all the distractions. This is a really weird party.
“That’s Nyx. A reaper who I hear is a former archangel. Experience-wise, she’s got me and Anders beat. She might know something.” Rowen turns away with a wave. “Best of luck, lovebirds.”
I sigh and stand. “Let’s go talk to her.”
Leo hesitates. “How about we enjoy our drinks first. I’ve waited so long to be with you. I don’t want to waste a single moment.”
“I don’t want to either,” I say. “But if there’s a chance we can have this forever, shouldn’t we try?”
He nods slowly then downs the rest of his drink. “After you.”
5
Although I approached Rowen with a little trepidation, I bustle over to Nyx like I haven’t seen the bitch in months and she owes me money. Leo trails behind, trying not to step on people’s feet as I drag him along.
The blue-haired reaper doesn’t look up when we get to the end of the bar and stop beside her. She’s got a clear drink in her hands, making me think it’s pure alcohol, and her gaze is unwavering toward the bar. I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to the punch.
“What’s he like?” she says under her breath.
At first, I think she’s talking about Leo, and I’m about to backhand her for even letting my man enter her thoughts, but then I check myself long enough to see where she’s looking.
Her thoughts aren’t on Leo--they’re on Anders.
“What’s he like?” I repeat the question, wondering if she wants to get more specific. She just nods.
“He’s… nice? Makes a good cocktail. A bit sweet for a whiskey drinker like myself but still good.”
Nyx takes a big gulp of her drink, and a brief grimace confirms my suspicion that homegirl is drinking the hard stuff. “Does he look like the kind of guy who would hide his true agenda from you for centuries then crush your heart under his boot?”
“Uh... no?” I start to look back at Anders, my brain briefly intrigued by the prospect of playing supernatural matchmaker, but then I shake it off and get back to my mission.
“You’re Nyx? You’re a reaper-slash-archangel?”
For the first time since we arrived, she looks away from the attractive bartender. Her eyes dart between me and Leo as she tries to figure out what we want before I get a chance to ask.
“Why?”
I suck in some air, ready to say too much again, when Leo thankfully steps in and saves me the work.
“I’ve been dead for a hundred and sixty years,” he says, starting with the good stuff. “I’ve been granted a body for one night…” he stops for a momentary look into my eyes, not like he’s turning to me for the answer but staring at me because I am the answer.
“But I need it to be forever.”
I’m lost in his eyes, even more lost in his words, but feel like we shouldn’t ignore the person we’re asking this massive favor from. When I look back to Nyx, she seems far less impressed.
“You’re dead, but you don’t want to be anymore?”
We’re both a little struck by her candor but nod anyway.
Nyx downs the rest of her drink and then shakes her head.
“Couple things,” she starts, leaning against the bar in a sort of power move. “I don’t have my scythe. If I did, I could bring your man back for a night or so. But here he is, so that’s already been done, and you don’t need me. The second thing is that love sucks.”
At first, this feels like an affront, like this saucy bitch is telling me that what Leo and I have isn’t real. A few more seconds of looking into her pained, angry eyes tells me there’s a little more to it.
“Everyone dies,” Nyx says, her eyes back on Anders. “Love doesn’t bring you back, certainly not for an eternity or whatever shit you’re hoping for. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
And she’s off, scooting past us, a determined sway in her hips as she moves closer to her prey.
My mood momentarily plummets as she moves away, sorrow squashing that little bit of hope growing in my heart. But no, screw it. This conversation isn’t over. She’s got powers, and I’ll accept whatever consequences come from her spells. If all she’s doing is chasing bartender tail, then she can afford a few seconds to at least try to make some goddamn dreams come true.