Reaper's Blood (The Grimm Brotherhood Book 1)

by Kel Carpenter

  I whipped the Impala around and took it easy going down the driveway as the gates opened. Headlights flashed in my rearview just as I turned onto Mansion Lane. It wasn’t actually called that, but given that’s all that was on the road, it was a fairly accurate name.

  I shifted gears then slammed on the gas, taking off like a pro. The car shot forward as I tested the limits. One might think that after being in an accident, I’d take it easy. Thing was, this time I was wearing a seatbelt, and I wasn’t searching for Hostess cupcakes—although now that I thought about it I kind of wanted some. I was also on a straight road that led basically nowhere. It was probably the safest place to do this. At least, that’s what I told myself.

  Truth was, I was a car junkie.

  Not for the rebuilding aspect, but for the speed. The power.

  Behind the wheel of a sick ride like this, I was on top of the world, until my own gates came into sight. I realized a second too late that I didn’t have the remote control to open the gate.

  Stopping out front, I debated the merits of hopping it and decided that ten-foot monstrosity would be a bitch to climb. I was still considering my options when Graves’ car rolled up behind me. The giant S filigree split apart as the entrance opened.

  That bastard must have had Shep’s clicker. As I rolled down the driveway to the Shroud mansion, I made a mental note to steal it out of his car before he left.

  My brother and I kept our mother’s last name: Kaine. But my father was a Shroud. His ancestors, along with the other founding families like the Graves’, created Farrow’s Square. There were also the Mortes’, the Scythes’, and a few other death-like names. In hindsight, I should have realized something was up sooner before it took me dying to find out. But, hindsight was a bitch like that.

  I stopped halfway around the circle driveway and hopped out. Tamsin wasn’t here just yet, and I suspected it might be a little while given her free rein with my credit card.

  Graves stopped behind me and came to join me as I started for the door.

  “What are you planning to tell your aunt?” he asked as we approached.

  I shrugged. “If I’m lucky I won’t even have to explain. She’s not all there anyways.”

  Little did I know how fast my point would be proven.

  I opened the front door and standing there in the living room right off the entry was my aunt, Esme.

  Naked. Painting a canvas on a standing easel with an oversized palette in her other hand.

  My jaw dropped as I tried to find the words.

  “Salem,” my aunt said happily. She set aside the paint palette and brush, and I saw way more of her than I ever wanted to in that single motion as everything up front was now on display. “I’m so happy you decided to come home—”

  “Esme, what are you doing?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest uncomfortably. Graves was silent beside me, and I didn’t even want to look and see what his face said.

  “Painting,” she answered, like it was obvious.

  “Without clothes?” I prompted, trying to see where she thought this was a good idea.

  “Well, they get dirty every time,” she said. “Even with a smock on I somehow end up with paint everywhere. I figured this way I could just shower off when I’m done.”

  Well, there was a certain amount of logic there.

  I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me. She always was a bit more . . . eclectic in her hobbies. Like my father, she inherited a vast fortune that made it where she didn’t need a real job. In lieu of that, she’d taken up some rather interesting hobbies over the years. Tree shaping. Making ASMR YouTube videos. Taxidermy.

  You know, the usual stuff.

  “Can you just . . . cover yourself or something?” I asked in a pained tone, staring at her forehead.

  “Don’t be a prude, Salem, dear. The human body is a beautiful thing.”

  Graves started to laugh but covered it by coughing.

  “So that’s a no on the clothes, then?”

  My aunt lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “I have nothing to be embarrassed about. I don’t see why you do.”

  “Of course you don’t,” I muttered, grasping Graves’ arm and pulling him along behind me. It’s hard to forget, but spend enough time away and you eventually do. While a strong woman, Esme was also a bit odd . . . and just a few bolts short of being certifiably cuckoo.

  “Nice to see you again, Esme,” Graves called over his shoulder as I dragged him out of the foyer and down the hall on the left.

  If my aunt replied, I didn’t hear it. I was too busy booking it to my room.

  “Shep always said your aunt was eccentric, but that’s the first time I got—”

  “An eyeful?” I supplied.

  “Yeah.”

  Dropping his arm, I opened my door and walked into my old room. It was exactly the way I left it. Band posters lined the walls, a sweater was tossed over the corner of my bed, and a book was open on my desk like I’d stepped out in the middle of reading, which, come to think of it, may have been the case.

  “I see the love of 80s music was something you and Shep had in common,” Graves said, still standing in the doorway as his eyes scanned the room.

  I shrugged and moved to the bed, my hand reaching automatically for the little stuffed sheep Shepard had crocheted for me. It was hideous. A baby blue sheep with little white bones stitched on top of it like a weird suit of armor. Esme had been going through a crochet phase, which was one of her more normal hobbies, and Shep had been eager to learn. The stuffie may be ugly, but it was still impressive, considering.

  Setting it back down, I faced Graves once more. “It could have been worse, I guess,” I said, returning to our talk about Esme.

  “Worse than your aunt being naked?” he asked with a bemused lift of his brow.

  “Yeah. She could have been doing her throat singing. Or taxidermy. Or there was that time she was selling sex toys, and kept trying to get me to test them out and give her reviews.”

  Graves held up his hands, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Okay, I get it.” He laughed a little longer and then looked at me with curious eyes. “So, did you do it?”

  “Do what?” I asked.

  “Test out her toys?” The sensual curve of his lips as he grinned made my cheeks heat.

  “Why, do you need some?” I replied like a smartass, ignoring the way my heart began to beat faster. “I think there’s a drawer that still has a few in their packaging. I’m sure if you ask she’d be more than happy to make a personal recommendation for you.”

  “I’m good, thanks,” he said, his lips still twitching with laughter.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Thought about what?” Tamsin asked, pushing past Graves as she walked into my room, dragging a hot pink suitcase behind her.

  Any amusement lingering on Graves’ face vanished at the appearance of my best friend. In response, she pulled the suitcase up in a standing position and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Grimm,” she said, lips pursed.

  “Succubus,” he replied in kind.

  I groaned. “Are you two seriously going to do this right now?” I asked them both. They looked between each other and me. Tamsin broke first, letting out a frustrated breath.

  “I’m sorry; it’s just an adjustment. His kind and mine don’t get along well. Largely because they like ripping our souls out and shredding them. Kinda hard to find a middle ground when that’s the starting point,” Tamsin said. Graves’ stare only hardened at her words, and I sensed this going downhill quickly.

  “You’re the one that suggested this meeting, Tam. Hard as it might be, get it together, because I’m a Grimm now too. You need a middle ground? You’re looking at it.” I motioned to myself and the tension left her shoulders.

  Graves sighed. “So where do we start?”

  “I think you two need to accept that you’re different species, and while you don’t like each other, when I’m around you nee
d to at least try to be civil. Sort of. We don’t have all of eternity for you two to argue—wait, do we?” I asked. “Is this like books and movies? Do I get to live forever?”

  The concept of eternity was entirely new and insanely scary when it was a real possibility.

  “No,” Graves answered. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “But that’s a great example of why we need to do this,” Tamsin followed up, coming to sit next to me on the bed. “You need supernatural 101, so to speak. What you are. What you can do. What you can’t do—and why. All that jazz the rest of us learn when we come into our powers.” She took my hand and squeezed. The moment was short, but sweet. Then she got up and hauled the suitcase across the room, closing the door as she did so.

  “Okay, so, what’s first?” I asked.

  “The history,” Graves said.

  At the same time, Tamsin answered, “The Council.”

  And just like that, we were back to them glaring at each other.

  “If we start from the beginning, it’s easier to head off her questions,” Graves said, defending his position.

  “I already gave her the gist of it,” Tamsin answered haughtily as she unzipped the suitcase and started unpacking it into the chest of drawers. “You assholes have been killing off my kind and everyone else’s for a few hundred years; lately we started fighting back. There. Done.”

  “That is such an oversimplification it’s not even accurate—”

  “And your version of the history is?” Tamsin asked, lifting a well-defined brow.

  “Alright,” I said, cutting them both off as they opened their collective mouths to go at it some more. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” I got up and plucked my old hairbrush off the vanity, extending it toward Graves.

  “You’re giving me a . . . hairbrush?” he asked, looking from it back up to me. “I’m not sure what this is supposed to do exactly—”

  “It’s your mic,” I answered, pulling out my cell phone. “Each of you gets five minutes. You pass it back and forth and neither of you can talk when the other has the mic. Got it?”

  My answer came in the form of disgruntled huffs under their breath. Given what I was working with, I’d take it.

  Graves’ hand wrapped around the brush, a fire lighting in his eyes as he started. “In order to understand what you are, it’s important that you know why reapers exist. The Black Plague wasn’t because of a bunch of diseased fleas carried by rats like you were taught in school. It was actually a pack of rogue vampires. In order to reestablish the balance, reapers were created to cull the rogues and keep the peace. Boundaries were drawn, all with the purpose of ensuring humans never found out about our world. When those boundaries are threatened, reapers step in and eliminate the threat. We’re actually named for the Brothers Grimm. They were the two most famous reapers,” he added when I opened my mouth to ask why. “Their stories have been modified over time, but the originals were retellings of their most infamous supernatural takedowns. ”

  Tamsin scoffed, and I glared at her. She rolled her eyes and mimed locking her mouth.

  “So we’re like the police, and the judge and jury?” I asked.

  Graves nodded. “Yes, originally. As you can imagine, it’s quite hard to kill a supe. Every species has a weakness, but a reaper is the ultimate weapon against all supernatural kind. We were created for this purpose. We are faster, stronger, and more gifted than those we hunt. We have to be. It’s how we’re able to capture the condemned. Once captured, we remove the soul from the body and shred it to ensure that the creature cannot come back to life and continue breaking the law—which even a succubus can admit would put the entire supernatural community at risk.”

  “Seems harsh,” I muttered.

  Tamsin gave me a look that clearly said, “You think?”

  “So what happens to a soul once it’s shredded?” I ask.

  Graves shrugs. “It depends. Most fade away, but sometimes a very powerful being can attach itself to an empty vessel—”

  “Attach itself?”

  Tamsin coughs, not so subtly saying, “demons,” under her breath.

  Graves glared at her but did not correct her. “It’s what you’ve heard of as possession or hauntings,” he said to me. “Both are caused by shredded souls that have attached themselves to something physical in order to stay anchored to this world.”

  The phone alarm went off, and Tamsin was already holding out her hand demanding the hairbrush. Graves handed it over, looking like he was far from finished. I reset the timer.

  “Okay, go.”

  “So fast forward a few hundred years. The Council was made to help establish equal representation for all supernatural species. Grimms aren’t allowed to just decide who gets to be reaped anymore. They did that for so long that many species are on the brink of extinction. Yes, reapers are still the head of the Council, but now there are rules that say what level of punishment is allowed for certain crimes. For more complex cases, the Council has to agree on a reaping. Everyone in Farrow’s Square is governed by the Council’s laws. In fact, once a supe comes into their power, they need to register with the Council. No one is permitted to leave their town without permission from the Council. It’s part of how they ensure that the human world is kept safe from us.”

  “Are there other Councils?” I asked.

  “Outside Farrow’s Square?” Tamsin replied.

  “Yeah.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “That’s why all supes are required to register and stay in Farrow’s Square. It’s the only supe haven in the world.”

  “But I left town,” I said. She smiled, but it wasn’t happy. It was like she knew I was going to say that.

  “Yes, because everyone thought you were human. Humans can come and go as they please. But the rest of us have to stay here. Why do you think I never followed you to LA?”

  I spluttered for a moment, and she lifted both eyebrows. “I thought you were invested in being a legacy at Grimm University,” I said.

  “That’s because I couldn’t tell you otherwise. I wanted to follow you there the whole time, but we don’t get to leave. If you register as a Grimm, that’s your fate. Whether or not they accept you—which they likely won’t because it’s been a sausage fest for their entire history.” She paused, looking at Graves’ face with a sick satisfaction. He clearly wanted to speak, but without the mic he chose to stand there and grimace.

  “Why has there never been a girl reaper before?” I asked.

  “Because the gene only goes to males,” Graves said, interrupting as Tamsin opened her mouth to answer.

  “First, it’s my turn, reaper. Second, how many women have your brotherhood tried to trigger before?” she asked.

  Graves opened and closed his mouth before finally saying, “None. Obviously. The only way to trigger a Grimm is for them to die by supernatural means.”

  “But I didn’t,” I said. “I got in a car accident.”

  “We’ll come back to that,” Tamsin said. “But first I want to address the obvious. What are the odds that every woman in the original families’ lines were actually reapers, just like Salem? What if you guys were just too misogynistic to even consider it, and because of that you think only guys can do the job? Just food for thought.” Tamsin was looking pretty damn proud of herself at that moment given Graves didn’t have an answer. “Now,” she said, turning back to me. “You died in an accident, but you said something ran into the road. What if whatever that was, was supernatural and therefore counted—which is why you transitioned when you died?”

  “I suppose,” I said, thinking back on it. “I don’t remember what it was exactly. Only that it had red eyes and a lot of fur . . .” Which, as soon as you think about it, really only led to one thing.

  “Red eyes,” Tamsin repeated, looking back and forth between me and Graves. “Sounds supernatural to me.” Graves opened his mouth to talk, and Tamsin said, “Don’t even think about it.”

  “But y
ou’re guessing based on a single detail,” Graves said, clearly exasperated. “Maybe it counted, maybe not. Either way, we don’t know if every girl is a reaper. Maybe it’s because Shepard died, and they were twins.”

  She glared at him. “It’s possible, but given you guys have never tested it, I’m not ruling it out. And either way, if she goes before the Council, the only species she can be lumped in with is you guys.”

  “But I don’t want to go before the Council,” I said, interrupting her, because unlike them I didn’t have to follow my rules. “We know I’m a Grimm. The Council doesn’t. And Graves here said a werewolf killed my dad and brother. If I go to the Council, they’ll then know what I am, because everyone is represented. Right?”

  They nodded.

  “Until I catch whoever, or whatever, killed my father and my brother, I don’t want to go anywhere near the Council.”

  Graves opened his mouth, but Tamsin beat him to the punch. “That’s easier said than done. If anyone catches you using your powers, they could report you. You’d have to hide what you are from everyone but us. Do you really think you could keep that up for long? You’re not exactly the most subtle person in the world.”

  “If I had to . . .” I started, but she wasn’t wrong. As both she and Graves pointed out, I was a shit liar.

  “We’ll protect you for as long as we can,” Graves said, speaking for both of them. Tamsin wasn’t thrilled about it, but she nodded alongside him. “Regardless of what you do about the Council, you need to learn how to use your powers. If you get caught unaware, you could out yourself without even knowing it.”

  “So what does that look like?” I asked Graves, already dreading his answer.

  “We start with the basics. Cardio, weightlifting, target practice.”

  I grumbled, not remotely about this plan.

  “Once your powers manifest we’ll go into seeing souls and how to remove and shred them. But for now, we’ll keep it simple. Tomorrow’s leg day.”

  Tamsin was smirking, knowing exactly how miserable I was at the thought alone.

  “I hate both of you,” I said, crossing my arms.

  Graves shrugged. “I can live with that.”