The Witching Hour (The Grim Reaper Saga (Urban Fantasy Romance)) by Marie Hall Page A

was time, origin, everything. Somehow he knew when this world passed away and he was nothing, not even a memory, Lise would remain. She was the chosen one.
    It was a cold shiver down the spine type of thought.
    He was suddenly yanked from his reflections when he saw a white glow spread from between Lise’s fingers. Like a spiraling helix, they shot through his witch’s flesh. She radiated from the inside out. A dark-haired priestess caught within a silky, ivory web.
    The ground trembled. Glass bottles behind the bar shook and rattled, not from music that had gone suddenly quiet, but from the living force springing from Lise’s hand.
    He expected to see stunned looks upon the faces of those dancing. But there were no looks of shock. No one had even stopped dancing. He knew then that the music hadn’t stopped. So much as Lise, himself, and the three sisters, seemed to be within some capsule of time completely separate from the outside world.
    Now aware of it, he felt the cocoon’s embrace. It was warm, inviting, meant for privacy more than anything. It rippled like the soft lapping of a stream against a bank.
    His witch grunted. An obsidian winding curl of smoke escaped her parted lips. Then as if someone had cut an invisible string holding her up, she slumped to the ground.
    He ran forward. Not thinking about what he meant to do--the need to comfort overruling his desire for stealth. All he wanted was to touch her. Hold her and keep her safe.
    The emotion was alarming and stopped him cold in his tracks. He backed up, into the safety of shadow. Who would find comfort from death?
    The sisters helped his witch up. Her golden eyes were wide with shock.
    Lise gripped her shoulder. “I’ve tasted your fears, it is time to let go. Live and love again, my dear witch, he would want it that way.” She turned her unnatural gaze to Cian.
    He took a sharp breath and heard the old woman’s voice in his head. Well met, Death. Be ye welcome here.
    Cian gave a solemn nod. Chosen.
    “Come sisters three,” Lise spread her arm wide, “I’ve saved you the best seat in the house.”
    With those words, the music returned, along with the sharp smells of bodies pressed close, and alcohol tainted breaths. The scents were suddenly overpowering and cloying, seeming to stick to the roof of his mouth and he grimaced at the stench.
    The women sat down in a corner booth next to the dance floor. All three heads joined together to form an odd circle of gold, black, and red. No doubt they were talking of the incident and what it had meant.
    There was nothing to do now but wait. So Cian walked over to the bar and sat. He dropped his stealth, nothing more than essence he’d draped himself in. He wouldn’t call it exactly going invisible, but unless someone looked in just the right spot they wouldn’t see him.
    “What’ll you have?” The bartender was cleaning a glass with a dishrag, staring at him and waiting patiently for his answer.
    “Fire water,” he said without thinking.
    The bartender nodded, poured him a tumbler full of the green stuff and slammed it down on the grainy wood. He hadn’t actually expected the mortal realm to serve drinks created in the lands of magick.
    His lips quirked as he brought the tumbler to his lips and took a sip. Just as he remembered it. Smokey, with a bitter hint of overripe cherries. It smoldered going down, making him feel like the flesh was being stripped off his throat.
    “Reaper.”
    The rumbling voice that always made him think of a volcano ready to explode, could belong to none other than Bezel, demon of the lower night abyss.
    He turned and stared into glowing lavender eyes. “Bezel,” he frowned, “what are you doing in mortal realm?”
    The blond, trucker cap wearing demon raised a brow. A lascivious smirk crossed his face as he hooked his thumb over his shoulder to the retreating figure of a man. “Been bound.”
    Cian stared at the pale, freckle-faced sorcerer cutting a path through bodies