Reaver(90)

What was done was done.

“Thank you, Eidolon.” Reaver clasped the doctor’s hand in his. “I know you don’t normally make house calls.”

“Are you kidding? I’m always making damned house calls.” Eidolon reached into his medical bag and handed him yet another pair of scrubs to replace the ones currently Swiss cheesed and drenched in rain, mud, and blood. “I’ll admit I have an ulterior motive.”

“Are you offering me my job back?” Reaver asked as he stripped out of the destroyed clothes.

Eidolon gave him a sheepish shrug. “I’m desperate.”

“Wow.” Reaver paused to yank on the scrub pants. “You really know how to sweet talk a guy.”

Eidolon laughed. “So? Is that a yes?”

“Yeah.” Reaver flexed his shoulder blades under the scrub top, feeling the loss of his wings as a distinct, too-light sensation of phantom limbs. “I need a little time first.”

He was back in the human realm, but now there was fallout to deal with. He hadn’t had a chance to spend time with the Horsemen, and right now Limos, especially, was a priority. And Harvester… he had no way to contact her, but he had to try. His feelings had shifted the moment he learned the truth about her, and then they’d grown during their time in Sheoul. Now, being away from her left a hole in his chest where a ghost organ beat, much like the wings missing from his shoulders.

Then there was the issue of the brewing war between realms. A war that, if it boiled over, would be his fault.

Eidolon walked toward the Harrowgate that sat on the southern edge of the Megiddo plateau, and Reaver joined him. “Come back when you’re ready.”

They stepped into the gate, and Eidolon selected the caduceus symbol that would open into Underworld General. When the emergency room appeared, E stepped out. “Be safe. There’s trouble brewing in Sheoul, but I’m guessing you know that.”

“Little bit.” Reaver waited for the gate to close. When it was dark inside, with only the glow of Sheoulic symbols and map lines on the wall, he tapped until he found the Harrowgate that was closest to Limos’s Hawaiian house.

Losing the ability to flash himself anywhere in the world was one of the worst things about being booted out of Heaven, and Reaver cursed as he walked the sandy path from the gate to Limos’s house. When he arrived, it was Arik who met him at the door and surprised him with an enthusiastic embrace.

“Reaver, man, it’s good to see you.” Arik stepped back. “I heard you spent some time in Sheoul. Is it true that you rescued Harvester? And that she was a spy for our side?”

Reaver followed Arik into the beach themed living room. Limos was conspicuously absent. “Yeah. She’s been reinstated as an angel.”

“Cool, I guess.” Arik gestured beyond the canoe-shaped bookcase to the kitchen. “Offer you a beer?”

“Thanks, no.”

Socially required niceties over now, Arik sank onto the wicker couch as if his legs had given out. “Shit.” He braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. “I’m so glad you’re here. Limos is… I don’t know. I feel like she’s gone.”

Reaver’s heart squeezed painfully hard. “Where is she?”

“Bedroom.” Arik looked up, the shadows under his eyes speaking of a lot of worry and restless nights. “She doesn’t come out. I can’t get her to eat, and I have to carry her into the shower or she won’t even do that. She doesn’t talk. She doesn’t even cry.” He jammed his hand through his hair, leaving unruly grooves in the dark waves. “Help her. Please.”

Reaver would do anything in his power to help. He just hoped he could. Steeling himself, he went to the bedroom and found Limos curled under the covers, only her tanned feet sticking out from the lacy pink bedspread. An empty cradle sat in the corner, Thanatos’s scrollwork lovingly etched into the wood.

Heart breaking, Reaver sank down on the bed next to his daughter and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Li?”

The Limos-lump moved under the covers. “R-Reaver?”

She clawed her way out of the tangled mess of blankets and sheets and threw herself at him, her arms clamped so tight around him that he could barely breathe. And Limos, who rarely cried, bawled until his neck, shoulder, and chest was wet with her tears.

He said nothing, simply holding her as she wept. If he’d learned anything at all about females… mostly from Harvester… it was that it was easy to say the wrong thing, and more often than not, saying nothing at all was the right thing.

Finally, Limos’s sobs turned to sniffles, and he twisted around to get a box of tissues off the bedside table. Very carefully, he dabbed the wet streaks from her cheeks and brushed the matted hair off her skin. There was nothing Limos liked more than to be pampered, and Reaver was prepared to do whatever it took.