A Reaper Made Read online

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Acknowledgments

  Online Links (Amazon)

  Excerpt: Bella Roccaforte

  Excerpt: Kasi Blake

  To my sister Jules, for whom I would go to hell and back. No worries sis, your soul’s safe with me.

  143, yfs

  CHAPTER ONE

  The old woman in the hospital bed took in a ragged sigh that sounded like a struggle. She looked around the room, to the bouquet of wildflowers that sat in a plastic jar at the foot of her bed. Then her watery blue eyes focused in on me, sitting in the chair next to her. I sat up, leaned in to take her wrinkled hand in my smooth one.

  “Who are you?” she asked, her tone fearful.

  “I think you already know the answer to that, Anna,” I said, keeping my voice low and smooth. No need to further frighten them before they passed on.

  “An angel?”

  I shook my head, a curtain of dark hair swaying with the motion. She swallowed hard.

  “You’re Death.”

  “Not quite. More like an escort.”

  “A R-reaper.”

  Many humans knew us by name, but it still surprised me when they came out and said it. I nodded, a slow movement to prevent her from panicking. Everyone feared dying. It was my job to help them transition.

  Anna looked to the closed door and back to me. “You…can anyone else see you?”

  “When I want them to, yes. Right now, however, it’s just you and me.”

  The old woman blinked hard and when she opened them again, a single tear streaked down her cheek. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “Anna, it’s all right. You’re moving on.”

  “To where?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t answer that. No one can. You must discover it for yourself.”

  Anna withdrew her trembling hand from mine, put it over her heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

  “What about my family? My daughter, my grandchildren? Can I say goodbye?”

  “You saw them this morning, don’t you remember?”

  Confusion crossed her face. Anna had been struggling with dementia in addition to her illness, but I knew to be patient. It was in the job description. When she still didn’t speak, I prodded a little.

  “Anna, it’s time.”

  She gave me another scared look. “Will it hurt?”

  “No,” I assured her. “All you need to do is close your eyes and relax.”

  Anna appeared to consider her options, her grip tightening on the thin sheets. She sucked in a deep breath, wincing at the rattle in her lungs. Then she steeled herself, looked at me and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  I gave her a warm smile and put my hands on hers. “Close your eyes.”

  She did as instructed, the scared look on her face fading as she relaxed into the bed. I sent warmth from my hands to hers, waited for her soul to disengage from her physical body. After maybe ten seconds, I felt a shift in Anna. A sigh escaped her, the air leaving her withering lungs and decaying body. Keeping my hands on hers, I stood and waited.

  Then Anna’s spirit came forward, her hand in mine as she lifted herself from the physical plane. Without problem, Anna stood tall next to me, looking younger than she had in years. Her body may have been old and weathered, but her soul, as like most others, appeared younger, vibrant. Most of the older souls, once out of the body that held them back, were happy to feel alive again. It was one of my favorite things about the job, to see the light shine in their eyes after years of aging and physical pain.

  Anna gripped my hand, looked back to her body lying peacefully on the bed. She gave me a relieved look. “You were right, that didn’t hurt at all.”

  “I’m glad,” I told her with a smile. “Do you want to say goodbye?”

  “To that old thing?” she said, waving her hand at her wrinkled body. “I suppose I should, but now that I’m out, all I can think about is the next step.”

  “Not unusual,” I said, the corners of my mouth turning upward. Now that Anna was free, the spunk she’d had in her youth returned. I motioned my head towards the door. “Come. Walk with me.”

  She didn’t let go of my hand as we walked through the door and out into the hallway. No one so much as blinked at us as we wandered. At first, Anna tried to skirt around obstacles and people, before she realized she went right through them. Before we’d even reached the end of the hallway, she was practically skipping.

  “I haven’t felt this good in years,” she said. “Do you think I’ll reunite with my husband?”

  “I can’t answer that for certain, but he’ll know you’re coming. He’ll find you if he can.”

  “He used to say he’d follow me anywhere. I’ve missed him so much.” She smiled at the memory, then paused as though realizing something. She turned to me. “What is your name?”

  “Grace.”

  “Grace,” she repeated. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Would you like to continue walking or do you think you’re ready?”

  Anxiety flashed across Anna’s face before she swallowed hard and nodded. “I think…I think I’m ready to go.”

  I squeezed her hand. “May you find peace in your afterlife.”

  A warm breeze swept through the hallway, though the living continued as though nothing were happening. The wind found us, circled around and played with my and Anna’s hair. I let go of her hand and took a step back as Anna looked around.

  “Am I supposed to walk into the light?” she asked.

  I couldn’t help but smile at the question; it seemed like everyone always asked. I shook my head. “There are no bright lights. It’s okay - take a deep breath and be patient.”

  Souls didn’t need to breathe, but I always saw them do it before they moved on. It seemed to calm them down as it would’ve had they been in their human bodies. Old habits died hard, I supposed, but if that helped them feel better, I saw no need to point it out.

  The breeze picked up, turned into an unseen tornado that swirled around Anna. Her hair went in every direction but her posture stayed still. As she closed her eyes, I saw a smile grow on her face. Then the wind took her, and Anna’s soul faded away in front of my eyes. Warmth grew in my chest, as it usually did with each peaceful passing, and I smiled briefly before turning back into the retirement home to find the next soul.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Death created Reapers to collect souls. My mentor told me most of these Reapers have been around since the dawn of time, watching over humans and ensuring their souls are appropriately handled. As the pop
ulation increased, the number of souls needing help to pass over became too great. Because Reapers can’t procreate, however, Death gave his first Reapers - “the Trues” - the ability to create new Reapers. We were called “the Mades,” and originally began as humans. We are born, then we live, and when we die, some of us are chosen (offered, really) to carry on with these immortal duties.

  I was still relatively new to the whole Reaper gig, so I’d been assigned the older souls at a retirement home. In life, I’d been in nursing school and spent most of my free time volunteering at the hospital, so working with those who were already expecting death was easier than say, those who fought against leaving this earth. In time, I would learn how to calm those souls and help them pass over, but until then, I was happy to help with the souls who already had their bags packed.

  I’ve always felt I was one of the lucky ones, being asked to be a Reaper - I think being chosen for such an important duty says that I did well in my short human life. It’s not to say Mades were unusual, because we’re not. My mentor said the increasing population in the last few centuries had led Reapers to regain control and bring Mades to our world. Mades and Trues alike could select humans who would be worthy of helping with their purpose. With more of us around, we could be sure souls were cared for and passed on rather than left to hang around the earth - or worse.

  I was nineteen when I died; a drunk driver hit me while I headed home one evening after a volunteer shift. The drunk driver walked away without a scratch. I, on the other hand, died instantly upon impact, my soul jerked from my body to wander around the scene and wonder what the hell happened. I screamed for help, trying to reason with every deity I knew as I watched the blood trickle down my still face.

  “No one can hear you screaming, child,” a voice had sounded from behind me.

  I’d whirled around to see a strange looking man standing there. He was stout, with a boxer’s build, but his gentle expression gave no hint of aggression. His attire, while not unusual, still seemed from a different era: his shoes worn, pants that stopped short at the ankles, thin white shirt, and black suspenders. Perhaps in his mid-thirties, he had a shock of messy ginger hair and a thick, wiry beard to match. His bright blue eyes popped against a ruddy complexion.

  I couldn’t hide the waver of fear in my voice when I asked, “Who are you?”

  He took another step toward me, a slow, fluid movement that I hardly noticed. “My name is Tully.”

  “I don’t want to die, Tully.”

  “You weren’t supposed to go this soon,” he’d said. His voice had an Irish lilt that almost sang to me as he spoke. “But I’ve seen you at the hospital, watched you with the patients. You have a way about you.”

  “Doesn’t help me much now, I’m afraid,” I’d responded. His calm demeanor somehow put me at ease despite the situation.

  “Oh, but it does, child. You have a gift. Do you know what I am?”

  “I was sort of hoping you were an angel.”

  He had shaken his head, an amused smile on his face. “No, I am what’s called a Reaper.”

  “You’re Death?”

  “Reapers are not Death, nor do we carry it wherever we go, according to certain tales. We appear to the dead and take their souls home.”

  “To Heaven?”

  “That I cannot say; only they will know once they pass into the afterlife. We are, however, allowed to make certain…offers to those we deem worthy.”

  I’d crossed my arms over my chest and given my body another stricken glance. “You can bring me back to life?”

  “No, child, you are no longer meant for that life. Do you want to continue helping others?”

  “How?”

  “You could be a Reaper, like me.”

  I’d scoffed. “How does that even work?”

  “There’s a whole world out there you don’t know about, child. I can show you, teach you how to be one of us.”

  “What’s the other option?”

  He shrugged. “To move on.”

  That was three years ago. Tully was my mentor now, teaching me how to be a Reaper. Even now, I know deep down that I chose his offer to become a Reaper because I was scared of what I’d meet on the other side. The unknown frightened me enough to keep me where I was, and so I accepted Tully’s offer to learn what it meant to guide souls to their destinies. Sometimes I wondered what would’ve been, but when I got that warmth in my chest from helping a soul move on, I knew I’d made the right choice. Tully had seen it in me and I was grateful to him for the chance to feel like I was still worth something. And actually, I turned out to be good at it. Tully wasn’t placating me when he said I’d had a gift. Souls were a lot like hospital patients; reaping souls in my retirement home was similar to my old life.

  As it turned out, Tully was right about that “whole other world” part. The wealth of knowledge I’d gained about my new existence was almost frightening. Reapers were nonthreatening, peaceful, and stayed neutral on all terms. We had to; we weren’t the only things that harbored souls and it was our job to make sure we got to them before anything else - like demons - could.

  Made Reapers worked a little differently from True Reapers. Mades like me didn’t have quite as many powers as the Trues. We were all naturally invisible and able to appear to both souls and humans, but Mades couldn’t change their appearance at will. We didn’t get telekinesis either, though Tully said most Reapers don’t even bother using it.

  Despite being neutral between the two worlds, all Reapers had emotional moments, even the Trues. We saw lifetimes of death, the awful ways in which humans behaved. For Mades, it took years before human habits wore off and even after hundreds of years, it wasn’t unusual to still get emotional. As prior humans, emotions sometimes snuck in even though we obviously needed to remain neutral (Tully often reminded me I smiled a bit too much.) Most of the newer Mades like me still felt human, even blinked and breathed. It was the little things we’d taken for granted while we were alive that were the hardest to forget after you died.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Reapers were loner types, busy with helping all the souls, but those of us who’d started out human often craved companionship. Being turned Reaper didn’t mean we instantly became neutral. According to Tully, the average time it took to purge every last one of your human emotions took anywhere from one to three lifetimes. We still felt sadness or anger, we laughed or rolled our eyes (too much in my case if you asked Tully) and most of all, we felt lonely. I didn’t know what happened if a Made Reaper stayed emotional, but I guessed the theory was after all your friends and family die, once you see so much death and your world is no longer the one you knew, you lost the emotions.

  In any case, Tully had never taken anyone under his wing before, but he was a Made like me. He’d wanted to help and introduced me to my now-best friend Tessa, who also happened to be a witch. Lucky for me, witches were immortal.

  I did my rounds at the retirement home, but no lives teetered on the brink of life and death. No soul pulled at my core, not even a twinge - no one would need me here for a few hours. Sometimes even Reapers need a break. I closed my eyes and thought of Tessa’s apartment.

  “Christ on a stick!” Tessa’s voice cried out. In her surprise, her eyes flashed purple, a witch’s true color. “Can you please stop doing that?”

  I grinned as I flopped down next to her on the comfortable suede couch. She hated when I popped in unannounced and scared her half to death. Tessa wasn’t easily startled, which made it that much more entertaining for me. It’d been a while since I’d shaken her eye color spell; that one pretty much stuck for every witch if they knew the basics.

  “Sorry, Tess.”

  “Gonna have to make a spell to keep you from teleporting in here all willy-nilly,” she mumbled. Despite her irritation, she offered me the bowl of popcorn she’d been munching on. I shook my head. Reapers could eat all day long, and often loved to snack, but I didn’t feel like it right now.

  “Haven
’t seen you in a few days. How’s it going in the world of soul-collecting?” she said through a mouthful of popcorn.

  I shrugged. “Same as usual. Had thirteen already this week.”

  “Lucky thirteen,” she said with a smile playing on her lips.

  Along with the magicked brown eyes, Tessa had given herself a cute button nose (she claimed her old nose was “hideously stereotypical”). Unlike Tully, who still clung to his old Irish roots, she had adjusted to each passing era. She dressed, talked, and acted like a regular human girl, as opposed to a witch who’d been around for a few lifetimes. Low-key and quick-witted, she was the total opposite of the shallow girlfriends I’d had when alive. I loved her for it.

  “Don’t you get tired of doing the same old thing every single day?” she asked me.

  “Uh, well, I’m dead, so that doesn’t affect me much anymore. And it’s sort of my job or whatever.”

  Tessa sighed loudly and I raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m bored, Grace. I mean, look at me - I’ve been around since the Salem Witch Trials and I still look eighteen! You know how many times I’ve done a spell on a bouncer to get in a place? More than an old woman should do.”

  “You’re definitely the only woman in existence to complain about getting carded.” I bit a grin back at her dirty look.

  “It’s not about how I look, though, not really. I can’t grow old which isn’t normally a terrible problem to have, but you’ve only been dead for a few years. Wait until you watch your loved ones grow old and die. Then you’ll see how mundane everything truly is,” she pouted.

  “That’s sort of why we’re not allowed to go back to our old lives after we die,” I said. This wasn’t the first time I’d had to make this argument with her. “Kind of why I’m here, remember?”

  Reapers could travel anywhere they liked - except home. Since we couldn’t change our appearance, Mades weren’t supposed to visit our past until after the people we used to know and love were long gone. The risk of being seen was too great. Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted to reap a soul I knew in life.

  You had to cut off contact from all your living friends and family after you became a Reaper. Tully had warned me of too many horror stories for me to mess up my mom that way, no matter how much I missed her. My family might have been typical and boring - happily married parents, little sister, twin kid brothers, cute dog - but they were my typical and boring. My heart ached for them and not a day went by I didn’t think of them and wish for their health and happiness. I refused to think about what would happen to them in sixty to ninety years.