Reap in Peace

by Zoey Woods

  There's no happily ever after death ... right?

  When I died, I just expected emptiness. What I got was a new job that comes with a magical scythe and three gorgeous hunks.

  I'm still coming to terms with death deities and grand designs, including earning back my soul so I’m not stuck here forever. First, I have to stop my murderer before time runs out and he drafts more women to this morbid destiny.

  The longer I work the Fates, the more I'm falling in love with each of them. But I can’t stay here. Not when each stroke of the scythe chips away pieces of my humanity and I fear I’ll end up exactly like the devil that put me here.

  Reap in Peace

  Zoey Woods

  Copyright © 2019 by Zoey Woods

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: Swoonworthy Covers

  For my Family and all my crazy friends including Sherry who was absolutely inspiring as a writer and a person. Thank you!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  About the Author

  Also by Zoey Woods

  Chapter 1

  Midnight black eyes fell on me, I couldn’t move, let alone breathe. The noise of the crowd and music faced into the background. Even the flashing lights that strobed out on the dance floor seemed to slow down. I longed for this stranger’s hands to touch me in a way I had never been taken before.

  And he seemed to know that from the way he stared at me giving me just enough time to blush before he gave a crooked smile and looked away.

  This was the fifth night I was here. I never frequented bars, but ever since I’d first seen him here last month, I couldn’t stay away.

  By the third night, I started stalking him. Something I’d never, ever done with a guy before. I asked the bartender if she knew his name. David Starr. I’d looked up every piece of information about him online.

  Now his presence seemed to fill the scene and press into my heart like seeing a chocolate cake with fresh icing was like for a dieter.

  Rumors said David Starr was dangerous. That he left heartbreak in his wake. I told myself that I didn’t need to complicate my life with a player. Didn’t need to sate the curiosity that burned in me every moment of my day since that first time he’d sauntered into this bar.

  How his lips might feel against mine. How rough did he like it and would he finally be the one to satisfy me in bed? To take me to the peaks of an orgasm.

  I shivered from the thoughts. When I turned back to the dance floor, he was gone. Had he left already? Usually, he stayed until midnight. I checked my cellphone. It was only eleven thirteen. I bit my lip, cursing myself that I hadn’t gotten the balls to go over and ask him to dance. Now it looked like I had missed my chance. Again.

  “Someone stood you up?” a deep baritone voice asked behind me.

  “Wha—” I spun on the barstool, ramming my knees directly into his groin.

  David’s face flushed purple and he bent over, gasping.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” I reached to pat his shoulder when he waved me away.

  He hunched over, trying to draw in air. Embarrassment heated my entire face and a few people around us chuckled.

  When David stood, his glare stilled my breath. He looked angry enough to strangle me.

  “I’m so sorry, let me buy you a drink.” I waved a hand at the bartender.

  “You need to come up with a better way to pick up men.” He winced as he sat down next to me. “Or you could just ask to check my junk instead of crushing it.”

  “I-I didn’t mean to.” My mouth suddenly dried like I hadn’t drunk anything all day. “Let me make it up to you.”

  Emily, the bartender who had given me his name, slid a fresh beer in front of him. Then she gave me a refill on my vodka martini and whispered. “On the house.”

  “Don’t know that alcohol is going to help much with my wounded ego or privates.” But he grasped the bottle’s neck, taking a long sip as he watched me over the rim of the bottle.

  I imagined him gripping the back of my neck that way as he drove inside me. Shaking my head, I pushed aside my vivid imagination, my face flushing with heat once again. What was wrong with me? I was Twenty-six years old, had been on my own since I moved here at eighteen, and held a good job as a paralegal at a law firm. So why was I tongue-tied and acting like a lovesick teenager in his presence?

  He sat the empty beer in front of me. “How about a dance then?”

  For a moment, I blinked at his outstretched hand. Holy fuck! He had asked me to dance?

  “Unless you think you’re going to do worse to me than kneeing my balls up into my pelvis?”

  I choked out a laugh. “No, no.”

  His hand was warm in mine and sent a shiver up my arm and into my belly.

  The music shifted to a slow rock song as he led me out onto the dance floor. He moved his hand from mine to my lower back, drawing me in close. His scent of woods and musk enveloped me as I wrapped my hands on his shoulders. God, I could breathe him in all night.

  His lips grazed my neck and my knees buckled. If I hadn’t been holding onto him, I’d have fallen on the dance floor. I leaned into him, my body melting against his, and never wanted this night to end.

  Euphoria filled me and I couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening. David moved his hands lower on my back, cupping my ass. I ground myself against him. All of my inhibitions gone and I felt like we were the only ones in the world.

  Music thumped against me. A cool tingling sensation flooded me. I shivered, not even David’s body heat kept me warm.

  My stomach folded in on itself and I gasped in pain.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, but he seemed more bothered than concerned.

  “Excuse me.” I wrenched out of his arms and ran to the bathroom. My stomach heaved. The floor felt like it dropped out from under me and I slammed face-first into the water fountain. Blood coated the inside of my mouth and I spat out the metallic taste.

  Lights flashed around me as I struggled to stand.

  Strong hands lifted me up. I choked out a gurgle, blood streaming down my face and into my mouth. A robed figure picked me up. My feeble attempted to get free only made the guy clutch me tighter.

  “Stop fucking bleeding everywhere,” he hissed. “You’re gonna bleed out before we can sacrifice you.”

  Chapter 2

  Sacrifice? I shook my head but that caused a new wave of dizziness to shot through me. I vomited all over the robed guy and he dropped me. The back of my head hitting cement.

  “Fuck!”

  “Go get cleaned up,” a male voice sounded familiar.

  “Stupid, cunt,” the first guy said.

  New hands dr
agged me upright. Again, this guy was covered in cloak and hood. Darkness spun around me.

  “Hurry up, it’s almost midnight.” Was that the bartender, Emily’s voice?

  What the hell was going on? I felt sick again, but as the man holding me hurried out of the bar and outside, only dry heaves would come out. My stomach felt like it was twisting inside out.

  Blackness crept along the edges of my vision.

  I was laid on a cold, stone slab. Several hooded figures stood around me. One held a gleaming dagger that caught the light from a nearby torch. A scream stuck in my throat. I couldn’t move, couldn’t call for help. Nothing.

  “We honor the midnight, we honor the sacrifice,” the group of men and women chanted.

  All of me surged upward to get off this stone slab and run for my life, but I remained motionless. This kind of stuff happened in the movies, not real life.

  The chanting grew louder, filling the night air, bringing pinpricks across my skin that soon grew hot and painful like needle stabs.

  How was no one hearing this? We were outside under the moon in some kinda wooden area from what I could see without being able to move my head. Tears streamed from my eyes as I couldn’t even blink, couldn’t move them but side to side.

  I tried to scream again, the sound bubbling in my throat, refusing to break free.

  In the distance, a church bell chimed.

  “Now,” one of the men shouted and raised his blade. He thrust it into my heart.

  Pain erupted through me, my body convulsing. Then another knife from one of the other cloaked figures jammed theirs into my chest too, and another and another. Each time the bell chimed, another blade sunk into my flesh.

  My blood rushing out, coating the stone beneath me. Twelve stab wounds, twelve strikes for midnight, and my death.

  * * *

  I awoke to a flickering light above me. Gasping, I rose, grabbing my body to remove the knives in me, but there were none. No blood, no holes, just me in my black, dressy tank and jeans I’d worn to the bar last night.

  The sacrifice. I spun around, finding myself in grey woods absent of color. The stone slab was a few feet away from me. Stark crimson blood covered it. I swallowed, remembering the feel of each knife invading my body and bringing me closer to death.

  Was I dead? I laid my fingers along my neck to feel for a pulse. Nothing.

  My breathing quickly turned into gasping pants. I doubled over, holding myself and trying not to pass out. This was all a dream. Some freaky nightmare that I’d wake up from and be so relieved that it wasn’t real.

  I pinched my inner arm hard. “Fuck!”

  It hurt like hell and the grey world around me didn’t change.

  “Hello?” I called out, walking away from the stone slab toward the bar.

  Would it even be open? I had no idea what time it was but a dull sun shone overhead. It was like I was everything was covered in a shade make only greys, blacks, and dull whites appear. Like moving through a haze.

  At the bar, I reached to open the door, but it was locked. I banged on the wood.

  “Hello? I need help, please.” I glanced around, finding nothing but woods around me. No cars or even a parking lot. The road leading up to the bar was eerily quiet and I shivered.

  I walked toward the freeway, surely there would be people driving to and from work. Someone.

  But as I neared the main entrance, the major freeway was empty. Desolate. I should feel peace or nothing if I were dead, right? Instead, anger and helplessness tangled in my gut. I shouldn’t have died. Not yet. It didn’t feel like it was supposed to be my time. And where was the damn white light or tunnel everyone who had near-death experiences talked about? Was I in some kind of limbo or was this my hell.

  Too many questions that I had zero answers for. My legs were suddenly heavy at the weight of my situation crashed down on me. I collapsed onto the grey grass. My life was over and I was stuck in this barren land.

  A strange grinding sounded behind me. When I turned, shadows crept along the ground toward me. I scrambled up. My heart feeling like it was beating triple time against my chest. The darkness snapped at my feet as I dashed backward.

  Soon the shadows rushed toward me. I ran. The darkness rose up like a giant wave, ready to crush and drown me.

  “Help,” I screamed again, tears choking me. Not that I expecting anyone to answer because they hadn’t before and I’d found no living soul around.

  The dark wave rose higher, engulfing the blurry sun.

  “Shit!” I screamed as the edge of it burned the back of my legs and I ran faster, pushing myself harder. All the while tears streamed down my face. My throat tightened. I’d already died once, hadn’t I? And I really didn’t want to die a second time.

  Ahead, a light pulsed in an odd rhythm within a building. I pushed my weary legs harder. When I reached the building, I thrust my body at the door, locked.

  No, no, no! I slammed my shoulder with all my might, gritting my teeth from the throbbing pain. The shadow’s tendrils stretched out to me. I rammed all my weight at the door and it burst open.

  I fell inside. Backpedaling as the shadow outside rose and fell beyond the door like it couldn’t pass. I didn’t trust it not to come sailing inside and killing me. Hoping up, my right hip throbbed as I searched for the source of the pulsing light I’d seen.

  There, on a dusty table, was a large scythe-like the Grim Reaper in Halloween costumes carried.

  Behind me, the shadow crashed against the door, splinters of wood flying everywhere. It would only be a matter of time before it broke through whatever was holding it back.

  My mouth dry, I reached out a hand to the scythe. A weapon would help me in this crazy land. Never mind that it was weird as fuck to find this here.

  As soon as my hands curled around the handle, a jolt shot through me.

  “Bout time you followed your destiny,” a male voice said from the doorway.

  I spun, the scythe in my hand. Even though the handle was as tall as me and the blade longer than my arm, it felt light. Like it was made for me.

  The guy leaned against the doorframe. He wore leather pants that showed off his muscled thighs and a black T-shirt with a red skull and blood painted on it. His red hair was brushed back and his dark gaze took me in from my boots to my dark hair.

  “Wh-Who are you?” I held the scythe in both hands, ready to use it if I had to.

  “One of the fates.”

  I snorted. “The fates? Those aren’t real and besides, they are old ladies.” Not a handsome rock-style guy.

  “Sure, back in Ancient Greek times. But they retired and turned over the family business to their grandsons.” He bowed. “I’m Patrick Moirai.”

  “What is this place? Why am I here?”

  “You, my dear, are the Fates' new reaper.”

  Chapter 3

  I shook my head in denial and trying to clear it from his words that seemed to entwine around my heart. “No, no, I’m not a reaper.”

  But when I tried to throw down the scythe, the weapon stuck to my hands.

  “Too late, you’ve claimed the weapon and it has claimed you.”

  “I didn’t claim anything.” I jerked my hands harder. “All I was trying to do was protective myself from that black blob or whatever it was. Unless that was you and you tricked me.”

  He held up his hands. “Not me. I only work with the present threads of time. What you speak of is the abyss that likes to swallow up souls that have soon passed on. Damn hard to fight, but now that you’ve claimed the scythe, you can escort those who have died to the other side.”

  “What? No, nope, I don’t want to be here or have anything to do with dead spirits.”

  “Well, considering, you’re the new angel of death, kinda doesn’t give you much of a choice.”

  The inside of my mouth suddenly felt like I’d swallowed burning ash. “I’m…no…I’m not death or a reaper or anything but me. I’m Rebecca Gonzalez and I don’t belo
ng here. Can’t you send me back to my body…to the land of the living?”

  I know I sounded pitiful, but I didn’t care. I was exhausted and mortified about everything that had happened to me. “I was freaking murdered! Doesn’t that count for anything here? I can’t be the goddamn Grim Reaper.”

  He smirked, holding up a finger, “Not the Grim Reaper, one of many. Population has gotten so high that he’s retired too and hired hundreds in his place. He’s living the high life in Jamaica last I heard.”

  “You know you sound crazy, right?” I didn’t believe any of this bullshit. “Okay, you’ve had your fun, now tell me how to get rid of the scythe.”

  I held the weapon out in front of me horizontally, both hands locked on the handle, the tip of the blade pointing at Patrick. This had to be some hypnosis thing that he convinced my subconscious what he said was true, but it was all an illusion. It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.

  “Sorry. I can’t wield your weapon or any other scythe. It’s chosen you and you alone, Rebecca.”

  Him saying my name gave me goosebumps up and down my arms and I wanted to hear him say it again.

  “Well, I can’t be your reaper or anyone else’s, so take it or tell me how to get rid of it.”

  “The weapon will always be a part of you.” His accent was thick and sounded Greek.

  “Fine. Whatever.” I shook the handle again. “But I can’t go walking around with it. I might accidentally scythe someone.” Not that there was anyone around except the two of us that I’d found so far.

  He chuckled and uncrossed his biker boots as he sauntered away from the threshold and over to me. My breath hitched at his nearness. He looked even more handsome up-close. His eyes weren’t exactly dark, but a mixture of brown, gold, and some green that seemed to swirl in an ever-changing pattern.