by Zoey Woods
“So you saying I’ll probably screw it up? That I’m a virgin reaper?”
He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Your words, not mine.”
“Stop it.” I playfully pushed against his shoulder, a giggle escaping my lips for a second. I glanced back over to the bartender who pushed two full mugs of beer in front of a couple. “Then how do I get her somewhere less crowded?”
His fingers trailed up my arm, making my breath hitch. Our make-out session had left me craving more. “Humans can’t see your weapon until it’s cutting their thread. Draw the tip of it out and nick her.”
I leaned back. “You’re serious? Yank out the huge scythe and tap her thread?”
“No, her.” He traced the lines in my palm. “Drawing out her thread will take more than just touching the blade to her. This will make her feel unwell.”
“Ah. She’ll need to leave the bar. You’re a sneaky devil.”
“Fate.” He bowed his head.
“Can I get you anything else, luv?” the bartender asked me.
I spun around to her, imagining my weapon in my palm that still tingled from where Patrick touched me. But nothing happened. I shook my fingers out, willing the blade to reappear. Damn it!
“Oh, honey, I don’t know sign language, can you write down what you want?”
“No thanks. Um…another silver bullet.”
“You got it.” She turned away to fill my order.
“Why didn’t it work?” I hissed.
Patrick held up his hands. “What’s your guess? It’s different for every reaper.”
“You’re no help,” I grumbled, but forced a smile when she handed me my drink.
“Really?” He nuzzled my neck, making goosebumps racing up my arms. “I think I’ve been very helpful, don’t you agree?”
I sighed, leaning into his touch. “Nope. Not in the least. If you were, I’d already have reaped her by now.”
“Try again.”
With a gnawing sensation of worry, I closed my eyes and tried again. Still, nothing. I opened my eyes to find Patrick watching me.
“No luck?”
I bit my lip. “Maybe I’m having performance anxiety. Like I’m worried someone will see the weapon and freak out.” I know I would if I was sitting at a bar and someone all of the sudden had a giant scythe.
“That’s impossible. No human will be able to see it. Trust me.” He pushed back his hair hanging in his eyes. “Imagine the feel of it. The weight. How it is perfect for you in every way like an extension of you—of your soul.”
Once again, I tried to follow his advice, but first, I downed my drink. This time the liquid didn’t burn as much as the first time and was fairly smooth. I needed to do this. Get the scythe so I could get the bartender alone. And I needed her to tell me who the other members of their weird, demonic coven or whatever it was, were.
I concentrated on the weapon. On how it felt when I’d first touched it and the sensation when it shrunk and attached to my arm.
My skin started to glow along the tattoo and finally, the full weapon emerged in my hands. Adrenaline pumped in my veins.
“Congrats,” he said, “you did it. Now, when she comes over, scratch the tip of the blade across her skin. It doesn’t matter where.”
I nodded, elated that I’d done it, but afraid I might lose the weapon back into my tattoo if I did something wrong. Keeping one hand on the wooden rod of the scythe, I leaned forward. “Ready to close my tab when you get a chance.”
She caught my words and gave me a nod.
A few moments later, she brought my bill. Wait, how was I going to pay? I had no wallet or money. The dead couldn’t take their riches with them my Grandmother always warned. My heart suddenly pulsed hard and painfully in my throat.
“Patrick.”
“Hmmm?”
The music shifted to a fast-based rock song that matched my swelling panic.
“I don’t have any money.”
“Use the scythe, then I’ll cloak us.”
My hands were sweaty as I pretending to lay money down under the bill. I pushed it forward. When Emily reached for it, I jerked the scythe at her hand. It sliced a line down that shone like a strobe light.
“What the hell?” she shrieked, looking down at her hand. “Did you just cut me?”
“Fuck!” Patrick grasped my hand and everything around us zipped into darkness.
Chapter 10
Suddenly, Patrick and I were outside the bar, with me having no idea how we got here this fast. My stomach heaved and I bent over, dry-heaving. Nothing was coming out.
Finally, my insides stopped screaming and I sat back on my heels in the grass.
“What was that?” I asked. “I thought humans couldn’t see the scythe.”
“They can’t.” He frowned, then looked over his shoulder at the bar.
I wiped a shaky hand over my face. “So she’s not human?”
“No, she is.” He squatted beside me. “I could smell the mortality on her.”
“Then how?” I stood on shaky legs. The memory of the night I died flooding me. “Wait, could it be because of the ritual sacrifice they did to me?”
“Possibly.” He rubbed his chin.
The back door to the bar flew open, banging against the wall. Emily stumbled out into the night.
“Fuck you, bitch.” Her face scrunched up with hatred. Shadows danced across the ground around her. “What the hell did you do to us?”
I took a step forward, but Patrick grasped my arm.
“Don’t get close to her.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. Something was off with this bartender and the fact one of the fates was worried had my skin crawling.
My scythe lay on the ground between me and the bartender. Her eyes narrowed on the weapon.
She lurched for it the same time I dove. For a fraction of a second, I thought I had grabbed the weapon before she did. But her hand clamped down on the handle. Her eyes turning a bright, sickly orange color.
“Power over death is ours.”
Lightning crashed into me, frying my insides.
“Don’t let go of the scythe,” Patrick yelled.
Like I could if I wanted to. The weapon’s essence or magic or whatever ripped through me. Like every atom was being electrified. I gritted my teeth as pain blasted me into a million pieces.
“Give it to me,” Emily snarled, sounding more like a demon than a young woman.
Her aura around her shifted to an inky black. Didn’t need a rulebook to figure out that letting her have the weapon would be mucho bad.
“No!” I yanked hard on the scythe, its magic lashing out, slicing my flesh and soul alike.
“Reap her,” Finn’s voice penetrated through my pain. “Before it’s too late.”
What was he doing here? My body heated with irritation and passion.
The wooden staff of my weapon spinning in my hand from the slickness of my sweat. I was going to lose it! Her laugh grated along my skin. Using all my might, I jerked hard to the left, spinning as I went. The leverage tearing the weapon from her grasp. She screamed, sounding like a hundred howling cats.
Her hands morphing into claws, scratching at the flesh along my back. Cold pain shot up my spine.
“Hurry up, what are you waiting for?” Finn crossed his arms like he was bored.
Could he not see that I was fighting some demon woman?
Emily, or whatever the hell she was, rushed me. My body quivered in pain. Somehow I knew if she got the blade from me this time, I’d be dead. Forever.
I couldn’t let her win. She and David Starr and ten others had taken my life and they needed to pay for it. They needed to be stopped before others got hurt or worse.
Tossing the scythe over my shoulder, I swung it as hard and fast as I could. Like all those years in softball practice where I always fouled out no matter what I did, but I always hit the ball.
The tip of the blade whistled through the air until it hit flesh. I
expected some resistance. Hitting bone or something, but it sliced right through her. The momentum careened me forward and I lost my balance. Falling onto my knees.
She made gasping sounds before clutching her throat. I stood, the scythe suddenly feeling heavy in my hands. There wasn’t any blood or guts. Just a pulsing light inside her that faded with each beat of her heart before she collapsed at my feet.
My throat tightened. “She’s not dead, is she?”
“That’s the point of a reaper,” Finn lit a cigarette. “What did you think was going to happen when you reaped her?”
“No, no, no!” Shit, I’d never killed anyone before. “Where’s the blood? Shouldn’t she be bleeding or something?”
Finn took a drag and let out a long puff. “Look, luv, you’ve got a supernatural weapon…you don’t need to slice and dice someone spewing blood to end them. It’s a simple cosmic thread.”
“Lay off,” Patrick snarled. “This is her first time.”
“Obviously.” He tsked. “She didn’t even make a clean cut.”
“What do you mean?” I stood on shaky legs, the scythe now a tattoo on my arm again. “She’s dead.”
“But did you gain anything from her death?”
I glanced from him to Patrick. “What does he mean?”
“Fuck, cousin,” Finn smirked. “What have you two been doing all this time? Painting each other’s toenails?”
“It’s not his fault.” I clenched my fists. Hating that I was still attracted to him as I was angry with him. “Just tell me what you’re talking about.”
“A reaper gains…power from his or her victims. Sometimes it’s memories of the person’s life.” Finn shrugged. “Sometimes it’s increased skills. At the very least, the reaper gains strength and you look like you’re about to faint.”
“No, I’m not.” I glanced down at Emily’s body. “I-I need to know why she and eleven others killed me in a ritual sacrifice and who they are.”
Finn moved so fast at Patrick that he was a blur for a second. “You bastard! You’re letting her hunt down her murderers? Are you insane?” He punched Patrick in the face before adding a kick to his stomach.
“Stop it,” I leapt between them, holding my hands up. “He’s helping me. Unlike you.”
He blinked, looking down at me like he’d never seen me before and for a moment, my heart stopped. Then he shook his head. “No, sweetheart. I’m the only one helping you by leaving you be.”
I lifted my chin, pushing down the disappointment. “Oh? Well, I don’t plan on staying here longer than I have to. As soon as I have the twelve brought to justice, I’ll be able to continue on to eternity without having to deal with your arrogant ass.”
The muscle in Finn’s jaw twitched, making a sinking sensation hit me.
“What?” I asked, not wanting to know the answer, but knowing I had to have it.
“Tell her, Patrick.” Finn never took his gaze off me.
His presence towered mine. Yet, I didn’t feel threatened. Nope. Silly me was starting to remember our kiss back at their house and wanting to know if he would kiss me again.
“I-I didn’t think she would reap the girl. She was only supposed to question her,” Patrick said.
Finn flicked a glance at Emily lying motionless on the ground. He brought his cigarette up to his mouth and took a long drag before speaking. “And see how well that turned out. Now tell her the consequences of what she’s done.”
“Hold on.” I held up a hand. “I’m ya’lls reaper, right? So what does it matter that I had to reap her? And what was I supposed to do? She tried to get the scythe. Something I was told a human couldn’t even see. She was all acting possessed.”
“No, you’re supposed to reap who we tell you to reap.” His smoke curled in waves toward my face. “Not whoever the hell you feel like taking out. Now you’ve set a time bomb on yourself.”
“What the hell is he talking about?” I stepped backward.
Patrick rubbed his hands over his face. “Killing the bartender put a timer in motion. If you don’t find the other eleven killers in eleven days, which will be the dark of the moon, your soul will be chipped away into nothing.”
The world around me darkened.
Chapter 11
“What?” I shook my head, wanting to dislodge Patrick’s words from my mind. “No, I was to bring my killers to justice. Reap them to escape this fate.”
“Not reap them, expose them.” Finn flicked his cigarette into the dirt, stomping it down with his shiny shoes. “Not kill them. Not slay them.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” I hunched over.
Patrick rushed to my side, rubbing my back, but I pushed him away. I didn’t want either of them near me.
“Wh-Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“Because Patrick lives in the present, remember?” Finn cleared his throat. “He doesn’t understand the repercussions of his words and actions like me or Dave.”
I snorted. “Right. So you could’ve easily told me all of this before.” Like when he was pressing me to the door and driving me insane with his kiss before he strolled away and left me wanting.
“A thousand different futures had her overcoming you and destroying your soul if I had.” Finn adjusted his button-up shirt. “This way, at least you've got a chance to learn the scythe and how to control it before each kill chips more and more of your soul away.”
“Fuck you.” I pushed against his shoulder. “You’ve got a fucking way with words. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be your goddamn reaper girl. Now back off.”
“Lay off, Finn,” a deep male voice said from behind me.
Everything inside me froze at those words. Patrick was to my right while Finn was directly in front of me. I knew that sexy, hypnotic voice. It had lured me back here the first time I heard it. That voice had his midnight blue eyes had gotten me killed.
I whipped around, gasping even though I knew who it was, to see David Starr watching us. He was leaning against a tree with a smug look on his face. His jeans hugged his muscled thighs down to his cowboy boots. Jet black hair and those mesmerizing eyes transfixed me and I hated it. His polo shirt accented his tanned skin, showing off the numerous tattoos on his arms that called me to trace my fingers or hell my tongue over each of them.
Well, since I was already doomed, why not add another kill to my list today? I jerked my hands out, calling my weapon to me. This time it leapt to my bidding.
“Time to die, asshole.” I lunged, thrusting the scythe out in front of me and straight for his gut.
Patrick and Finn shouted something behind me. What did they care about who I slew? This one was one of the bastards that killed me. He deserved this. Hell, he deserved a lot worse.
I clutched the wooden staff tighter. Just because Emily had gone down smoothly didn’t mean I’d get lucky twice in a row.
Then he vanished. One second he was staring me down like I was a goddamn nuisance, the next, gone.
The momentum of my run had me going several steps past where he was and I struck a tree with the tip of the scythe. The bark crumbled and the small pine teetered over like an invisible hand had knocked it down.
“What—where did he go?”
Finn chuckled, shaking his head. So he thought this was funny? Maybe I should run him through too. See if he fell as fast as the poor tree.
“Easy, Rebecca.” Patrick held out his hands, his brow pinched. “You don’t want to hurt Dave.”
I blinked. Had I heard him right? “Dave? No, you mean slimy David Starr who lured me here and killed me.” I glanced past him and Finn. “Where is he? Come out and show yourself, coward.”
“Put the weapon away,” his voice sent chills down my body.
How could his mere words affect me like this? I hated it.
“Sure. Once it’s planted into your skull,” I said as sweetly as I could stomach.
“Goddess, I really like this one.” Finn sauntered forward. “Can�
�t wait to see how this plays out. Ten to one she slices off his dick.”
“Grow up,” David…Dave whatever the hell his name was. “Or maybe you’re too screwed up to be able to do that.”
“Fuck you.” Finn snarled. “Your timeline is set in stone. You don’t have to live a million different futures at the same fucking time.”
“No.” He stepped out of the shadows, making my body freeze like all the other times I’d seen him. “I can’t change the past. Ever.”
I clenched my fists. Shit! Where was the scythe? The stupid thing had implanted on my inner arm and wrist again. I threw out my hands, willing it to come back, to end this bastard. My palms tingled. But no weapon.
Fine. I’d kill him with my bare hands if I had to.
As though sensing my mood, his midnight black eyes narrowed. “Leave me and new reaper alone. We need to talk.”
“I’m not going to be anywhere alone with you now or ever.” I didn’t move a fraction. Yay me!
“I wasn’t asking.” He reached out and snagged my arm.
Before I could draw in a breath, I was inside the bar, music thumping against my chest. The scent of beer mingled with spicy cologne and stale perfume filled my nostrils. Strobe lights flashed along the dance floor, but it was empty of people. Eerily so.
I was standing along the back wall, the entire bar except for the restrooms in my line of sight.
From across the dance floor, David sauntered toward me, almost like the music was made for just him. Each beat one of his footsteps. He wore a vintage black leather jacket and leather pants complete with spiked boots. He looked more like a hot, motorcycle biker than the supposed Fate that ruled the past. And with each step, my breaths quickened, until he stopped in front of me. His presence enveloped me. I didn’t want him to have any hold on me. He touched my cheek and I flinched, yet he forced my face up to look at him. His touch heated me all over and I hated it.
I tightened my jaw, forcing myself to look straight ahead instead of acknowledging him.
