by Zoey Woods
When his fingers closed over mine, a ripple of heat and pleasure cascaded through me. His lips parted and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his mouth. Was he as affected as I was from our touch?
“Now what?” I managed to croak out.
He blinked a few times, his brow furrowing for a moment before he spoke. “Think of the weapon as part of you. Part of your aura so you can call it back into the metaphysical world when you need it.”
“I don’t need it.” I bit my lip. “Now or ever.”
His shoulders tensed. “This is your destiny now, Rebecca. Until your spirit dies, you are the Fates’ new reaper.”
“What happened to the previous one?”
“The darkness, the same one chasing you, got him.”
I shuddered. “Sounds like this is a dangerous job. Not sure if I’m qualified.” I tried to keep my voice light, but it came out strained. “Get yourself someone else.”
When I tried to push the scythe into his hands, it only stuck harder to my palms.
“A Fate cannot also wield the scythe.”
“Don’t you guys cut a thread or something?”
His chuckle warmed me inside. “We fates only hold sway over certain lives nowadays. There are too many people in the world and others…death deities…decide when their time has come.” He shrugged. “Others make their own time.”
“So then why do you need me?”
“Have you ever seen an accident that should have hurt the person or killed them? Yet they walk away unharmed?”
I nodded. There were bloopers like that all over the internet.
“Those individuals were guarded by us, the Fates, until their thread is called to be cut…they get lucky as you say.”
“That’s not exactly what that term means.” My face heated.
“Oh? I don’t get out in the world of men much with my responsibilities.”
I swallowed. “When was the last time you were…out?”
“Nineteen thirteen.”
A squeak came out of my mouth. “Is that like the year?” Couldn’t be. That would make him over a hundred years old.
“Was that a bad time?”
“No, I just can’t believe all of this.” My gaze flicked down to the scythe between us. “Was the person who did this before me this clueless?”
“Barry?” He laughed. “Yes, at first, but he took to the job quickly enough.”
I squared my shoulders. Okay, I could do this. Had to do this. No way could I walk around holding this huge weapon. “I’m ready. How do I get this thing to sheathe again?”
Chapter 4
I tried once more, following Patrick’s words of imagining the scythe as part of my psyche. Nothing happened. I closed my eyes trying again. This time, I pushed aside the feeling of Patrick’s hands on mine and imagined my palms empty.
“God, I suck at this.” I opened my eyes.
“Looks to me like you did fine.”
I gape at my hands. Empty. But Patrick still held onto both of mine, turning them over to expose my wrists. There on my left one is an outline of a scythe. The blade sat just below the line of my wrist.
“Whoa.” I pulled my hands from his to touch the mark. “At least this tattoo didn’t hurt.” My face burned at my slip. When I was eighteen, dared by two of my best friends, we had all decided to get matching tattoos on our hip. Half a butterfly wing later, I was in tears and ran out of the shop. The outline of the wing was raised slightly and still lay unfinished on my skin.
Patrick didn’t comment on my declaration though his eyebrows rose a fraction.
I rubbed my palms on my jeans. “Thanks for helping me get rid of that.”
“It’s not gone.” He frowned. “It’s part of you. Forever.”
“You said the other guy retired. I’ll do that too. Find a replacement for me so I can get on with my lif—” I was dead. There was no more life left to go to.
“There are only two ways out of this job, as you call it.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the wooden table where I’d found the scythe. “First, you reap a thousand innocent souls.”
My stomach heaved. “If they are innocent, why do I need to kill them?”
“All souls have a time, remember? No one can live forever or the universe would be thrown out of balance.”
I nodded, swallowing the burning acid that hit the back of my throat. “And the second way?” Hopefully, it would be the opposite of the first. Like hunt and reap down a thousand bad guys. I could do that. I think. I had never hurt anyone before. Not even thrown a punch even when it was deserved.
“Find and bring your killer to justice.”
“That’s it?” How? I knew that bastard David Starr and the bartender had to be involved. “But there were twelve of them, I have to reap all twelve?”
His face paled, but he schooled his features and dropped his hands to his sides, his fists clenched. “Yes.”
“Alright.” I ran a shaky hand through my hair. “So you’re one of the fates…tell me where to find these twelve and I’ll take care of them.” If I could even get the scythe thing to work. If I could hurt someone. No, not just hurt them, kill them. Wouldn’t that make me no better than my murderers? I couldn’t do this though, for eternity? Reap good and bad people just because? I had to get out of this as fast as possible and if it meant bringing those who had forced this upon me to justice, then so be it. I didn’t have any other choice. Cause killing a thousand innocent people wasn’t going to happen.
What if they were children? The floor felt like it dropped out beneath me. I pushed the horrid thought aside. No, I’d go after my killers.
I rolled my shoulders back, still feeling sick to my stomach. “What now?”
“We go to meet my two brothers.” He held out his hand.
I stared at it for a long time without moving. Not even sure if I breathed during that time. Something deep inside me said this was final. That if I took his hand, like I had the scythe that there would be no turning back. No way to get back to the person I had been. This would change me forever.
One step forward and my hand was in his. Warm. I let out a shaky breath and he curled his fingers around mine.
* * *
In the next second, we were in a mansion. Gone was the decaying building and shadows outside. Sunlight winked through multiple windows. White furniture was splayed out across the room in perfect precision. I felt like I’d been transported to a millionaire home magazine.
Patrick brought my hand up to his mouth, leaning over me, and kissed my knuckles. “Wait here. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
All I could do was nod as my heart sped up. Which was weird, since I was supposed to be dead. He left me in the huge living room and the sensation stopped. Was I imagining things? I placed my hand on my chest. Nothing. No thump or beat or any indication that I had a heart.
The leather couch engulfed me, beckoning me to sink deeper into its cushions. My curiosity wouldn’t let me sit still. I stood and walked toward the glass windows with white curtains billowing in the breeze.
My boots clacked against the white marble floor that upon closer examination showed three lines racing through the pristine texture. Silver, gold, and copper color. It made the marble sparkle when the sunlight shone across the surface.
Behind me, I’d left a track of mud. Shit. Carefully, I took off my boots, not wanting to ruin their super-clean room further. I turned around the spacious living trying to find a cloth or something to clean up the mess, when my footprints sunk into the marble, leaving behind a clean floor.
I gasped. What the hell? So this place was magic? No wonder it stayed looking so crisp and fresh. Wish I’d had a house like this that would clean itself.
The marble was cool under my feet despite my socks. I went toward the closest window and pulled back the curtains. An ocean churned below while the house stood on a cliff. It was like looking out into a new world. The water was turquoise with perfect caps at each wave. Even the sky was un
real with an amethyst sky and perfect-shaped clouds.
From the kitchen, voices murmured drawing my attention. I crept closer. If Patrick had a roommate or wife who didn’t want me here, I wasn’t going to impose. Part of me doubled over inside at the thought of him with someone else. I had believed we had a connection as he helped me remove the scythe and brought me past the shadows how had chased me.
But wouldn’t that be my luck? Meet a great guy and he’s married. Well, at least it would be an improvement from meeting a wonderful man and he ends up one of the twelve murderers.
“And you brought her here?” a male voice froze me in place. “Untrained?”
“She picks up fast and already sheathed the scythe,” Patrick said.
“So? Until she takes her first reaping, she’ll be vulnerable.” His voice rising. “She’ll draw every fucking demon and shade for miles to our door. Is that what you want?”
Patrick mumbled something that I couldn’t make out.
“Leave it to you to bring every stray home. This time you’ve gone too far. She can’t stay.”
“Where do you suppose I take her?”
A fist slammed down on a counter and I jumped.
“Here,” Patrick continued, “We can protect her. She has a chance to learn how to reap correctly.”
“And she’s fine with this?” The male voice scoffed. “That she’s our new reaper to escort dying humans to the underworld at my command?”
I jerked straighter. His command? Just who was this guy that he ordered deaths? If what Patrick had told me was true about them being the grandsons of the Fates, then each of them held a strand of thread for every individual. One weaved into the past, the other carried it for the present, and one…one cut the thread in the future when the person’s time was up.
My hand flew to my mouth as I backed away. Is that what happened to me? This Fate that Patrick spoke with had sliced through my thread and brought me here?
Fuck if I was going to be their damn puppet. I turned and ran for the door, feeling like the biggest fool ever. This had been a mistake.
Chapter 5
I grabbed my boots and marched to the door, determined to be out of this fancy cage now. No way was I going to go around slaying people just because some weirdo told me too. If we were here, then that meant others were as well. I could find shelter somewhere else where I didn’t have to hurt anyone.
My hand reached for the doorknob.
A hand grasped my shoulder, spun me around, and pinned me to the door. A man crowded my space, stealing my breath. He wore a crisp, white buttoned-up shirt that accented his tanned skin. His blond hair was trim and neat. Even with the business-look, he was super sexy. Like a GQ model fresh off the pages. He’d probably look even hotter if he wasn’t scowling at me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His blue eyes flashed.
I straightened. “Anywhere but here.”
He let out a low chuckle that vibrated through me, waking up parts of myself I had no idea existed. Dark, dangerous, fierce slivers in my soul that purred from his attention.
“You think you’re ready for the underworld out there? Doubt you’d last an hour.”
“Like you could do better?” I’m sure he could if he was one of the fates and trained by the original three women of ancient times. No sense in feeding his ego any more than it seemed to be by saying he was right and I didn’t want him to know that he both intimidated me and spiked my lust.
Sunlight highlighted sections of his hair, making the stands look like a mixture of golden and bright copper. His eyes narrowed to a predatorily stare as his gaze swept over me, making me feel suddenly feverish. His hand shot out and clasped my chin. He was so close now that I breathed in his woodsy and spicy scent that sent my gaze shooting to his full, perfect lips that now curled into a smirk. His sapphire eyes darkened and my breath hitched. He was a stranger. Some weird guy that I shouldn’t have any feelings for whatsoever. Yet, I couldn’t break free from the spell he seemed to weave through me. How my core tightened in anticipation while he glared at me like I was going to be a puddle at his feet.
No way, I wasn’t going to worship at his feet. I jerked my chin from his grasp. But he pressed closer to me, trapping me, a wall of muscle. His thigh pressed between both of mine. His hands pinning me to the door. A shiver raced through me as his heat enveloped my body. I could have shoved him away, but I found myself frozen, wanting his hands on me. He let out a deep growl and my breaths quickened. Could he read my mind?
At the thought, my legs threatened to buckle.
He moved one hand to my hair, twisting the strands into his fists, then pushing my head back. His lips crushed onto mine and I gasped as passion shot through me like crackles of lightning, lighting up the dark desires I kept hidden for so long. Instead of pushing him away, as I should have done, I clasped his shoulders. My boots that had been under my arm tumbled to the floor. I hiked my leg up over his, feeling his erection press to my deepest core and I shuddered beneath him as he pressed me harder against the door.
Our tongues stroking and dueling each other’s. I wanted more. I wanted him hard and fast and deep inside me. I mewled as his free hand moved to my breast, kneading it hard through my bra and my nipple hardening from his attention.
A sting of something pierced the inside of my lip. Sharp, electrifying and jolted as though I’d touched a live-wire. I flinched, pushing against him. His hand moved from my hair to brush his knuckles against the side of my neck.
“What was that?” I asked, touching my lower lip.
He eased back from me, his eyes hazy with lust, a crooked smile making my pulse race. “That is insurance.”
What the hell was he talking about? I licked the inside of my lip, finding three tiny bumps. “Did you bite me?”
“More like marked.” He backed away, leaving me panting from our near-sexual escapade. “Now I’ll be able to know where you are at all times. Including your mood.”
“Fuck you!” I touched a trembling hand to my lip and his eyebrow arched from the movement.
“Another time, perhaps. I give you a week before you lose your soul.” He shook his head, turning his back to me as he sauntered away.
I clenched my fists, and shouted, “Hey, don’t you dare walk away from me. I want answers.”
“Which ones?” He spun. “The one where you succumb to the scythe and lose your soul, becoming a mindless, evil reaper who cares about nothing except your next victim? Or the one where you get devoured by demons screaming our names, but we can’t help you?” His face twisted into a sneer. “Or how about one of my favorites? Where you become the very thing you hate. Terrifying innocents and killing them to gain more power until you, yourself, become a death demon that lurks in shadows, feasting on others’ pain.”
He left me there, gaping after him, my whole body trembling from his words. Because somewhere deep inside me, knew that each prediction he spoke, had an equal chance of coming true.
Chapter 6
I didn’t even know his name, yet his words of my possible futures paraded in my mind like colonies of ants crafting a new home inside my skull. Fuck this. He didn’t know a damn thing about me. I would figure this out, no matter what he said.
Patrick had told me how to win at this game they played. I just needed to find the twelve members who murdered me and I already knew two of them: David Starr and the fucking bartender I thought had been on my side. When the whole time, she had played me—adding to my death.
I yanked up my boots lying next to the door and pulled them on. This time when I reached for the door, no one came. A pang of disappointment hit my middle. Wasn’t Patrick or whoever the other guy was going to try and stop me?
“Goodbye, I’m leaving,” I called out, instantly feeling like a fool. My gaze drifted to the hand on the doorknob and the scythe tattooed there.
Something banged in the kitchen followed by a crash of glass.
I bit my lip, staring from the door towar
d the kitchen.
“Everything alright?” I asked. No one answered and a tightness seized my chest. What if Patrick or someone was hurt? The least I should do is check on him.
I turned away from the door and stalked forward. Around the corner, the enclosed kitchen was dark with curtains drawn and a figure standing in the middle of the area. I inhaled sharply and caught a whiff of something metallic or burning metal. My feet froze in place as the shadow faced me with glowing eyes.
“You,” a deep male voice said.
I choked on a breath, willing my feet to move away, but I remained still.
“You marked her?” The shadow shuffled forward.
I blinked. Confused at what I was seeing for a moment. Patrick had the guy who had kissed me by the throat. Blood coated his face. Shards of glass from a broken dish lay scattered around them.
“Patrick,” I gasped. “Please, don’t.” He was going to kill the man. And as much as I hated what happened, I couldn’t deny that I’d been just as eager to rip off the man’s clothes and feel his body next to mine as him.
Patrick’s glowing eyes met mine, then he glanced down at his hands, choking the life from his victim. Then he tossed him aside. “Don’t worry, he can’t die.”
“That time,” the man’s voice was raw, “I do believe you could have.”
“Do something like marking her without consulting me and Dave and we’ll both see if we can kill you.”
While I liked his chivalry, I didn’t want to have a death on my conscious. I let out a hysterical chuckle.
“What is it?” Patrick moved to my side, concern lining his face.
“Sorry. I just had an odd thought about no one dying on account of me, but if what you say about me being a reaper is true, I’ll have lots of deaths on my shoulders.”
