Reaper's Blood (The Grimm Brotherhood Book 1)

by Kel Carpenter

  “Tam, the dude just strolled up out of nowhere,” I said, filling my friend in on the prior night’s events while stuffing the last of a cupcake in my mouth. I’d made a special trip to the gas station before heading home from the cemetery to load up on Hostess goodies. If ever there was a time to indulge, I think a near-death experience qualified.

  I was already unwrapping my second one when she responded, “Do you really think a reaper would be in on it, though? Why would he be killing his brothers?”

  “I dunno,” I said, speaking around the chocolate cake in my mouth.

  “Can you just swallow already and save snack time for when I’m not on the line?” Tamsin griped. “You’re worse than the bitches I live with.”

  I snorted. “Says the girl who’s called me, more than once, while a guy is going down on her.”

  “Fair point,” Tamsin conceded. “Carry on.”

  I snickered even as I rubbed sleep from my eyes. It was way too early to be awake right now, but Graves insisted we up our training game. “Who knows why Dom is after reapers? Maybe my brother found out something he wasn’t supposed to. It makes it even more important that we summon him. I need to know what Shepard knew so that we can take care of this asshat for good.”

  Tamsin let out a soft exhale. “Salem, he’s like head bitch in charge over there, outside of the Council. You don’t actually believe you’re going to be able to find anything on him, do you? Nothing that will stick anyway.”

  “Oh, trust me, Tam. By the time I’m done with him, Dom the Fuckface is going to seriously regret ever messing with my family. He may think he knows about the Shrouds, but he’s about to get up close and personal with Salem Kaine.”

  Laughter startled me out of my impromptu moment. And it wasn’t just coming from the phone, although Tamsin’s cackles were definitely coming through the speaker. My eyes darted to the left where Graves was walking up the drive. He’d heard every damn thing I’d just said.

  “Et tu, Brute?” I asked Tamsin. I wasn’t surprised Graves would laugh in my face, but I’d thought Tamsin would know me well enough to believe my threat.

  “Salem,” she laughed. “As soon as you start referring to yourself in the third person, I’m out.”

  I sighed. “I have to go anyway. The sadist is here.”

  “Have fun getting sweaty! Oh, and if an opportunity to just bang one out with him presents itself, you should totally take it.” The line went dead, and I gaped at my phone before shoving it in the pocket of my hoodie.

  Graves was standing just in front of me by that point, and he snatched the uneaten snack out of my hand.

  “Hey!”

  “You’re in training,” he said, sending the cupcake flying in the air. “No more cupcakes.”

  “But-but-I was going to eat that, you asshole,” I complained.

  “What you’re supposed to be doing is running,” he said, glowering in my direction as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Not eating your feelings while gossiping with the succubus who lives in a house full of other succubi—all who have advanced hearing, by the way. Awesome oversight on both your parts there.” Graves grabbed the hem of his shirt and whipped it off, tossing the material on the porch next to me. My jaw dropped open for more than one reason.

  “What crawled up your ass today?” I said, getting to my feet and trying—and failing—to not ogle Graves’ body.

  “Someone just had to go and run their mouth last night, getting me into some serious trouble with the president. All of this after she left her house and did the exact opposite of lying low like I asked her to.”

  He turned, and that electric blue gaze seemed to see straight into my soul as I ate up every delectable inch of his perfectly sculpted abs. As my eyes wandered up, I noticed that his entire chest was covered in tattoos. Two scythes spanned the width of it, crossing at the handles. Above them his last name stretched across his pecs. “That a you-thing or a reaper-thing?” I asked, nodding toward his chest.

  Graves rolled his eyes but still answered. “Reaper, and before you ask—yes, Shepard had one. Once a reaper transitions over, they’re tattooed to signify the change.”

  “Weird,” I said, twisting my lips. “I am so not getting a tattoo.”

  “Well luckily for you, if no one knows you exist in the supernatural sense—you won’t have to. Why don’t you use that as your motivation for staying out of trouble? Because clearly not getting caught by the Council isn’t enough.”

  I blinked, a little taken aback. We joked around a lot. Well, I joked around a lot, and Graves typically took it like a champ. This time, he seemed genuinely pissed. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “Look, Graves, I’m sorry I got you in trouble with Dom the Fuckface. I’m telling you, though, that guy is shady. He’s literally in the woods at the same time as I was attacked, and someone called the werewolf off. What more do I need to prove that he’s our guy?”

  Graves shook his head, starting in on his stretches. “Reapers are sent out to check the traps regularly, Salem. There were probably a half a dozen of them in the woods when you got chased. Which really, just makes it even worse. That means even when we’re looking for it we can’t seem to catch the damn thing.” He dropped into a runner’s stretch, and I came to stand beside him, awkwardly moving my arm around like it was doing much of anything.

  “Maybe you can’t catch it because it’s working with one of you,” I said. “Ever think of that?”

  “Salem, that’s—”

  “Brilliant,” I said, finishing the sentence for him the way I wanted it to end.

  “Ridiculous,” he deadpanned, giving me a look. “Grimms and other supes don’t work together. Period.”

  “You and Tamsin are,” I pointed out. Not really sure if that was the greatest example.

  “That’s different, and you know it. Tamsin and I aren’t actually working together by choice. We were just thrown together because I was the dumb idiot that happened to find you in the woods that night.” A muscle in his jaw ticked, and I pressed my lips together.

  “You don’t really think that. You know how I know?”

  He looked at me. “No. But I’m dying to hear it,” he said sarcastically.

  “I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you most of the time we’re together. For some reason, though, you’ve decided not only to put up with me, but my best friend too, even though you guys are like mortal enemies. If you really thought they were so awful, you would have just washed your hands of both of us and turned me into the Council. But you haven’t.”

  I looked at him with a shit-eating grin and the intensity that he had staring back made my skin tingle.

  “Let’s go running,” he said, eventually dropping the conversation. I let it go. For now. “If you’re going to make stupid decisions and leave the house, the least I can do is try to make sure you’re fast enough to run away.”

  “You know, I don’t really need to be faster. If you’re there I just need to trip you and keep walking.”

  He gave me a glare, and I smiled sweetly like the asshole I was because everything was back to normal. Sort of. At least he wasn’t being pouty and throwing my food in the bushes. “You owe me a cupcake, by the way.”

  Graves rolled his eyes and started jogging in place. “I’ll tell you what. You beat me to the top of the hill, I’ll buy you a whole box.”

  Now that was some motivation. Graves was already off and running by the time I got my legs pumping. It was a struggle not to stare at his ass as it flexed beneath his pants. The material wasn’t snug by any means, but it hugged his man curves way better than it had any right to. It wasn’t until I stumbled over my own feet that I was able to drag my eyes back up to the horizon.

  I was panting hard, hair sticking to my neck and face by the time I caught up with him.

  He glanced over at me, his brows lifting. “You’re getting faster,” he said, not remotely out of breath. “That means we can finally pick up the pace.”

  “What do you
mean ‘finally’?” I gasped, my mouth hanging open as Graves jet ahead like some kind of human rocket. My little plan to trip him as a means of escape was looking a hell of a lot less plausible. With as fast as he was moving up the hill, I could be in a car and still may not catch up with him. The guy hadn’t been kidding when he said reapers were fast.

  I couldn’t help but wonder just how much he’d been holding back with me. The thought stoked a fire in me. I didn’t want to be babied. Even if I did hate every second of this. I wanted to be able to hold my own, which meant, like it or not, I was getting up that hill.

  Sucking in air, I pushed my body forward, pumping my arms and lengthening my stride. The houses became a blur as I moved. By the time I reached Graves, he was already at the top, doing a few more stretches to keep his muscles warm while he waited.

  Sweat was dripping down his torso, one specific drop stealing my attention as it ran down the center of his abs.

  The sound of a slow golf clap kept my eyes from dropping any lower. Even though they really wanted to.

  “Good job. It looks like your power is starting to kick in. We should be able to start extending our routes now.”

  I groaned. Leave it to him to kill any satisfaction I felt at my achievement. “Do you kick puppies in your spare time?” I grumbled. “Or are you satisfied with being a thief of joy?”

  “What are you going on about?” he asked, bending his leg at the knee and grabbing his foot behind him as he stretched his quad.

  “You are a thief of joy. You can’t let anyone be happy for longer than two point seven seconds before you snatch it away with some dire comment.”

  He blinked at me. “I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing. Here I was thinking I was keeping your ass alive.”

  I glowered in his direction because he wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t going to admit it.

  “You know, you’d probably be the hottest guy I’ve ever met if you just didn’t speak. I bet you’d get a lot more chicks that way too.”

  His gaping face as I walked by was the best part of this morning, and that was really saying something given I had eaten cupcakes. I jogged down the hill, using the momentum to keep me running. My legs were Jell-O and wanted to give out. My breath was coming so hard and fast I was partially convinced I’d pass out from too much oxygen—but I wasn’t stopping. Not when stopping meant he won. I was going to show his smug face where it was at, even if it killed me a second time.

  I passed the graveyard and looped around, the pounding of feet behind me as Graves ate up the pavement started to make me nervous. While soles against concrete and paws against dirt weren’t the same, the instinct to run out of a newfound fear still hit me. I used that to push myself harder, making it all the way up the hill without lagging and back down once more. When the Shroud gates came into view, relief filled me. My feet slowed to a stop before filling with lead as I dragged myself toward the driveaway.

  Behind me, Graves sprinted down the hill, at a crazy fast speed I could barely follow.

  He was breathing harder when he came to a slow walk next to me.

  “How did you do that?” he panted.

  “Do what?” I grunted, hobbling down the driveaway and mentally cursing my ancestors for putting the house so far back. I needed one of those automated walkways like at the airport to get me from one end to the other.

  “Run that fast,” he said. “You seriously picked up speed toward the end there. I couldn’t keep up.”

  I blinked, wiping the sweat from my eyes as the salt started to make them sting. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. I was running the same as before.” I shrugged.

  “No,” he shook his head. “You weren’t, but that’s okay. I’ll figure out what caused it. Fortunately for me, we’ll have lots of practice time now that I’m upping our training schedule.”

  He clapped me on the back, and I let out a huff.

  “Do I still get a box of cupcakes?”

  Graves let out a barking laugh. “You didn’t beat me up the hill.”

  “But I beat you back to the house and I ran the whole time. I think I deserve some cupcakes. Besides, if you’re upping the training schedule I’m going to need the calories to keep this rocking bod.” I motioned to myself, and Graves snorted.

  “You do realize it doesn’t work that way, right?”

  “What doesn’t work that way?” I asked as we approached the house.

  “You don’t eat a box of cupcakes to stay the same weight—” One look at my face and he stopped talking. “You know what, go grab your keys. I’ll buy you a box. One box,” he added. “You’re not getting this every time, though. And I expect you to push yourself this hard tomorrow, and every day after. Understand?”

  “Whatever, Graves,” I said nonchalantly, grinning ear to ear when he couldn’t see my face anymore.

  “And Salem?”

  I paused. “What?”

  “If you could avoid doing something stupid that almost blows this before the summoning, that would be great.”

  “If you bought me more cupcakes I’d be too busy eating to get into trouble—”

  “Go get your keys,” he sighed. “Before I change my mind.”

  12

  Rabid Stuffie

  The scene outside my brother’s window painted a sinister picture, and it wasn’t filling me with warm fuzzies. Especially since I was less than half an hour away from attempting to speak to his ghost. The full moon hung low in the sky and there was a reddish cast, making it appear far too threatening for something that resembled an overripe piece of fruit.

  I pushed the curtain the rest of the way open, letting the moonlight stream in to illuminate the makeshift altar behind me. Darla’s book had been sadly lacking in detail about what was required to create a witch’s altar, but a quick Google search filled in the blanks. At least, that’s what I was banking on. It wasn’t exactly like I would know the difference between a legit site or a bullshit one.

  After comparing about thirty Wiccan pages, I’d settled on a setup that incorporated only the items referenced on all of them. Somehow, I didn’t think anyone else used a Versace scarf as the base, but the black and gold silk felt the most witchy out of everything else I’d found still living in teenage Salem’s closet.

  I was already wincing as I eyed the scarlet pentacle I’d drawn on the center of the scarf in Maneater-red lipstick. I could have used paint, but that would have required potentially alerting Esme, and I didn’t want to give my aunt any reason to inspect my handy work. Four unlit candles were set around the pentacle, along with a teacup filled with salt, and another with water. Completing the altar was my “anathema”—AKA the steak knife—and Darla’s book.

  I hoped it was enough because it was the best I could do.

  Now all I could do was wait for the others to get here. Graves had already texted to let me know he was running late. He’d gotten caught up in Gamma Rho business, but he was on his way and would be here soon. Tamsin had run downstairs to grab a lighter for the candles, so for the first time since being home, I was alone in Shepard’s room.

  Butterflies flooded my belly, although that seemed like far too delicate a comparison for the twisting knots in my stomach. Maybe geese would be a more accurate description. Stress geese.

  I didn’t like being in here; not without him. Even though he was dead, it felt like a violation. As twins, we shared everything, so our rooms had been our private sanctuaries. We were only ever allowed in by invitation. Being here now, surrounded by the memories of us together, was painful in a way I didn’t have words for.

  Moving to his bed, I’d lifted the stuffed sheep he’d given me. The ritual called for a personal item, and since it was the only thing I owned that he’d actually touched and created, I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate. Lifting it to my chest, I squeezed it, pretending that it was my brother I was hugging. Shep’s distinctive chlorine and sunshine scent filled my nose, and I breathed it in, letting myself
believe, for one selfish second, that he was there in my arms.

  The door crashed open as Tamsin stumbled in, shattering my moment.

  “I thought you were grabbing a lighter, not the whole damn kitchen!” I said, dropping the sheep and moving to help her.

  “Well, I was, but then Esme started being weird, so I grabbed some other shit to throw her off the trail . . .” Tamsin said, dropping her findings on Shep’s bed. I shook my head.

  While there was a lighter, she also grabbed two wooden spoons, a can of whipped cream, some chocolate sauce, and a rope—although where she got that I had no fucking clue. I groaned, shaking my head. “Tam, she’s going to think we’re having an orgy in here.”

  “We always could, you know,” she said with a lift of her shoulder. “I mean, Graves might be a dick, but he’s hot. Use the rope to shut him up and—” The words died on her lips with my scowl. “Fine. The lighter,” she said, handing it over. I rolled my eyes just as the front door closed once more.

  “Graves must be here,” I said, poking my head out the door. “We’re in Shep’s room!” I called.

  Heavy boots thudded against the hardwood floor as Graves’ dark head appeared down the hall.

  My heart jumped in my chest as his blue eyes met mine, but I reminded myself he’s here for Shep. Not me.

  I flung the door open and stepped back, letting him through. He unzipped his jacket and laid it tentatively on the bed. His eyes fell on the items Tamsin brought up and a dark eyebrow lifted. “I thought we were summoning your brother.”

  “We are,” I replied, avoiding his gaze as I moved to stand beside the altar.

  Tamsin came up on one side of me, Graves on the other.

  “So how do we do this?” he asked.

  I twisted around to grab the stuffed sheep off Shep’s bed. “First, we put this in the center of the pentagram.” I set the sheep down in the center of my Maneater creation. “Then we cleanse it,” I continued, dipping my bare fingers in the bowl of water. I lifted them over the sheep and let the droplets fall. “Next we form a circle . . .” I muttered, picking up the bowl of salt. I used the hand I hadn’t just dipped in water and stepped back. Picking up a fistful of salt, I started by Graves and walked around the whole altar, letting a continuous stream of salt pour. I was almost out of salt by the time I came back to Tamsin and stepped within the circle I’d created before closing it.