Praise for Graveyard Shift,
Book 1 of Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc.
“Graveyard Shift is an impressive feat of imagination built on a broad knowledge of world religion. It's also great fun! No small accomplishment.”
-Christine Wicker, best-selling author of
Not in Kansas Anymore: The Curious Tale of
How Magic is Transforming America
"Darkly comic and wildly imaginative. Angela Roquet gives us an afterlife we've never seen before."
-Kimberly Frost, best-selling author of
The Southern Witch Series
"Graveyard Shift is sacrilicious. Roquet's first book in the Reapers Inc. series will be a huge hit with fans of authors like J.K. Rowling and Neil Gaiman. I look forward to getting my hands on the rest of the series."
-Lance Carbuncle, author of
Grundish and Askew
“I love sci-fi and fantasy. Horror is also one of my favorite genres. I have had a lifelong love of mythology in all it many varied forms. It is rare to find a book that combines more than two of those with both a joyous wickedness and intelligence. Angela Roquet has managed it beautifully in her novel Graveyard Shift. She has artfully woven many different religions and mythologies into a believable afterlife.”
-Darla Cook, literary guru
Titles by Angela Roquet
Graveyard Shift
Pocket Full of Posies
LANA HARVEY, REAPERS INC.
BOOK 2
Copyright © 2012 by Angela Roquet
All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published August 2012
For my son.
If you believe in nothing else in this world,
I hope you at least believe in yourself.
Chapter 1
“Baseball is religion
without the mischief.”
-Thomas Boswell
Gabriel always looked like he had just rolled out of bed. He wore the same dingy drawstring pants he always wore, and I wasn’t even sure he owned a shirt. He shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth and jumped to his feet, throwing a buttery fist in the air.
“Catch the ball, asshole!” he shouted at the muddy diamond below.
“You know they can’t hear you, right?” I rubbed a hand over my throbbing forehead and groaned, almost wishing I had stayed home and studied. Almost.
The sun was annoyingly bright, and it had sucked up most of the moisture from an early morning rain, creating a sticky humidity that made breathing a chore. The air was heavy with the smell of stale popcorn and cut grass.
Josie was going to have an apocalyptic tantrum when she found out that I had pushed off studying to catch a baseball game with Gabriel. Of course, the ball field was conveniently located next to the cemetery where two funerals were about to take place for my last catches of the day.
Harvesting low-risk souls was a walk in the graveyard, especially after Grim’s last assignment, hunting down a high-risk replacement soul to keep Eternity from deteriorating back into its former wilderness. The chaos that would have ensued, had I failed, would have brought on the Second War of Eternity. And only one man had been looking forward to that. Seth. Now he was on the run. At least, I hoped he was on the run.
Most expired gods embraced retirement and puttered around their respective afterlives like favored grandfathers. Seth wouldn’t hear of it. But then again, he wasn’t exactly favored in his realm. Probably because he made Hitler look like the Easter Bunny. The creep didn’t care what happened to Eternity or anyone who lived there, and if he couldn’t be king, starting a war would be just as amusing.
“Oh! How could you miss that?” Gabriel shook his head, bouncing around his tangle of blond curls. “You’re not worth the crusty peanuts between my toes.” He grunted and plopped down next to me on the roof of the concession stand.
“He is human, Gabriel.”
“Well, it shows,” he said.
I glanced over my shoulder and spied a small and weepy crowd filtering into the cemetery and congregating around the first death hole. “I better go get that soul before he’s six feet under.”
“And miss the last inning? Are you crazy?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re shouting at people who can’t see you, let alone hear you, and I’m the crazy one?”
Gabriel flicked his wings and folded his arms. “Do what you have to. I’m gonna stay here and keep an eye on number three. That home plate’s been calling his name all afternoon.”
“Well, number three can’t hear that plate any more than he can hear you, pilgrim.” I stood and swept the popcorn off my robe.
“Someone help!” A lady in the bleachers bent over a wheezing, elderly man and slugged him on the back hard enough to dislodge a lung. “We need a doctor!”
Gabriel looked up at me. “Sure you don’t wanna stick around and pick up an extra commission later?”
“You don’t see another reaper around here, do you?” I pulled up the hood of my robe and ducked down, hoping to avoid a confrontation with one of my coworkers. If wheezy there had a medium-risk soul, another reaper would be showing up any minute to collect it. I didn’t want to get caught playing on company coin. Grim had enough reasons to send me to the proverbial guillotine.
“He’s a low-risk. I can tell you that right now,” Gabriel said.
“How would you know?”
“I saw him get out of his car. He has a Darwin bumper sticker.”
“Oh.” I relaxed a little. “If he’s a low-risk, someone will be assigned to collect him later.”
“Lana.” Gabriel dropped his chin and gave me a look that paused somewhere between confusion and frustration. “He’s right there, easy money, not to mention brownie points with Grim.”
I scowled at him and tucked a black curl behind my ear. Gabriel was right. I could really use the brownie points, but he didn’t have to go and spoil my afternoon by bringing it up. I seriously considered ripping out a handful of his feathers and shoving them in his mouth.
I glanced back at the man in the bleachers and inwardly groaned. It had been nearly six months since I’d harvested a soul from a body so freshly deceased. I liked my tidy routine, simply reaching in a coffin and caressing a body that’s already been cleaned and dressed and positioned just right. And I hated, hated, hated heart attacks.
I could already feel the man’s eyes migrating towards the concession stand, ready to seize me with the helpless look of a puppy, right before it gets creamed by a bus. Like I could somehow stop it. He choked out his last breath and collapsed in the lap of the hysterical woman fanning him with a foam finger.
Several observers had popped out their cell phones. Ambulance sirens pierced the air. The umpire called a timeout, while one of the team physicians, a round man with swollen cheeks, hobbled up the stadium stairs like a wounded elephant.
“Gabriel, you suck.” I scooted to the edge of the roof and leapt onto the stands.
By the time I reached the man, the physician had begun a half-hearted attempt at mouth-to-mouth, sloppily struggling to catch his own breath while trying to pump air into the dead man. CPR always looked so clean on telev
ision. What a crock. I cringed and looked away, blindly reaching for the limp hand dangling off the bench.
The result was unexpected. Fire zipped up my sleeve, and the wave of heat that followed shoved me flat on my ass. I rolled backwards, flailing my arm around like an idiot. I found my footing and jerked the flaming robe over my head before pitching it over the bleachers.
When I turned around, Gabriel blocked my view. His huge wings pressed outward to their widest span, glowing softly from his holy rage. “Lord of the Flies,” he hissed. “Explain yourself before my patience gives way.”
I rose up on my toes to peek through the gap between Gabriel’s left shoulder and his wing. Beelzebub, the prince of demons, straightened his tie with a soft chuckle, keeping one hand firmly tangled in the leash attached to the soul I had unsuccessfully tried to harvest.
Beelzebub, or Bub, as his business cards said, was a handsome devil. I could give him that much. His suit was black, slick, and fashionable as ever. The collar of a silky red shirt peeked out around the edges of his jacket, enhancing the gold and amber flecks in his black eyes. His haircut was borderline edgy, longer than most businessmen keep it, and today he wore it slicked back. With his neatly trimmed goatee, he looked like a rock star ready for the grand jury.
“Gabriel, old boy, I thought you were on vacation.” Bub reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and gently tugged out a small leather pad stuffed with papers. “Here’s my registration and permits, not that you have a legitimate reason to request them.”
Gabriel’s cheeks flared as he snatched the leather pad and glanced over the tiny scribbling that declared Bub’s possession and soul seizure a legitimate heist.
“Sorry about the burn, Lana,” Bub said as I stepped around Gabriel.
“Those hideous robes aren’t free, you know. And I thought this guy was Atheist. What gives?”
Bub tilted his head to one side. “What gave you the impression he was Atheist?”
“The Darwin sticker on his bumper.”
“Ah. Must have borrowed the car. His son is Atheist, but he’s a Baptist. At least, he’s Baptist enough to go to Hell for being a pedophile and a crook.” He lowered his gaze at me. “And if you had completed the training Cindy requested of you, you could have avoided the scorching.” He clicked his forked tongue at me.
“What training?” Gabriel wheeled around with a belligerent scowl. Crap.
I hadn’t necessarily been lying to my friends. I just hadn’t been filling them in on all the smaller details of my current situation. In order to secure Cindy Morningstar’s vote for my placement on the Posy Unit, I had agreed to take a training course that would better prepare me for demon attacks. After witnessing the brutal death of Grim’s second-in-command, Coreen Bendura, the training course didn’t sound like such a bad idea. But between the classes I was taking at the academy and work, there was literally no time for anything else. I’d seen my boyfriend, Maalik, twice in the last month. Of course, his position on the Afterlife Council didn’t help our relationship much either.
The Posy Unit wasn’t even my idea. Horus, the Egyptian representative on the Afterlife Council, was blackmailing me into joining so I could do an illegal side job for him. He had even written up a placement proposal for the council to vote on, pissing Grim off even further.
Under normal circumstances, I would have told Horus not to let my scythe scrape him on his way out. I could have cared less about joining one of the specialty units. In fact, I preferred my low-risk souls. But as it was, Horus claimed to know my newly discovered secret. I wasn’t cast in the same mold as the other reapers. Khadija, the former soul serving on the secret throne of Eternity, had given me a unique ability, one that I only shared with Grim. The two of us could visibly see the potency of a soul. Not that the boss-man needed another reason to despise me.
My ability was a violation of the peace treaty between the gods. Reapers were not supposed to be gifted with any powers not sanctioned by the council. If word got out, it could mean a swift execution.
If that wasn’t bad enough, I had also slain a lesser goddess last fall. It was in self-defense, but that would hardly matter to the council. Grim was the only one I had told, a decision I was still kicking myself for. It must have been shock that forced me into blurting out that horrid confession. At least he was just as horrified at the thought of anyone else finding out. Grim was an egotistical slug, but he still favored peace among the gods.
Bub shook his head at me. “Lana, Lana, Lana. You have less than a month until the placement ceremony. Cindy grows impatient.” His light English accent had a seductive edge to it. I just couldn’t picture him using that voice to command legions.
Gabriel was still frowning at me as he handed back Bub’s papers.
“I’ll figure something out,” I mumbled.
“See you soon then.” Bub snapped his fingers and disappeared with the soul, leaving behind a sickly yellow smog in his place.
“What training?” Gabriel tried to ask again, only to be cut off by a wailing sob from the cemetery. They were preparing to lower the first casket into the ground.
“That’s my cue.” I leapt off the bleachers and found my charred robe, the formidable uniform. I slipped it over my head and looked up at Gabriel. “I’ll explain everything later. I promise.”
“Sure,” he grumbled and turned his back to me. Angels could be so pissy sometimes.
Chapter 2
“The gods offer no reward for intellect.
There was never one yet that showed any interest in it.”
-Mark Twain
“Suck it up, Lana. You’re not missing class tonight.” Josie leaned her back against my front door, clutching her text book to her chest as she checked her watch for the fifth time. “Hurry up. Grace is handing out our final assignments tonight.”
“Hooray.” I leaned over my bathroom counter and resumed lazily applying my peach lip gloss.
Josie Galla was one of the very few reapers who I could tolerate being around. She was a century older than me, being of the seventh generation of reapers, which is probably why she had no problem ordering me around all the time. A no-nonsense attitude was her approach to everything. She applied it to work, school, relationships, and her personal style. She even sported a no-nonsense haircut that managed to look fabulous even when she haphazardly spiked it with gel, like she had done tonight.
On Monday nights, Josie and I went to the only class we shared, thank Khadija. The Wandering Souls course was taught by Grace Adaline, the only active first generation reaper. My mentor, Saul Avelo, had been a first generation reaper too. He was also one of the very few reapers who had died in the line of duty. That’s not what bothered me about being in Grace’s class though.
Craig Hogan, my creep of an ex, just happened to be taking the same course this semester. Had Grim not given me a special assignment last fall, Craig would have been happy to continue ignoring me like he had been for the past two hundred years. After our brief reunion at Coreen’s memorial service, where I made it perfectly clear that I still detested him, he had seemingly given up on the notion of reuniting with me to further his career. I should have known better. Craig was the youngest reaper ever accepted on the Lost Souls Unit. The pride still hadn’t quite found its way out of his system.
When he signed up for Grace Adaline’s Wandering Souls course right after Josie and I had, I knew I was in for a round two. Craig and I had dated off and on throughout our initial schooling and for a short while into our apprenticeships. I knew the game he played. Hell, I used to be his practice dummy. Craig was the kind of guy who threw himself at a girl with his eyes closed, hoping he could play it off like fate had brought them together. Sometimes, depending on how much time he was willing to blow, the trick even worked. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t enough time in Eternity to make it work on me again. The semester was finally coming to an end, and the only thing he had managed to arouse in me was my gag reflex.
Josie led m
e through the academy doors like I was a high-risk, celebrity soul. She was determined to see me pass Grace’s course, pairing up with me on every assignment she could to help balance out my lousy test scores. I already knew that if I didn’t turn this final project into a masterpiece, I was doomed on multiple levels. I needed this course on my resume if I wanted my placement proposal for the Posy Unit to make it to the voting table of the Afterlife Council.
With that in mind, I pushed through Grace’s classroom door and found Craig comfortably seated at a front table and chatting up two giggly colleagues of his from the Lost Souls Unit, Miranda Giles and Karen Durst. He had folded on fate and was now trying to play the jealousy card. No surprise there.
I paused with a mischievous grin, just itching to say something catty or embarrassing, when Josie grabbed my elbow and steered me towards a remote table.
“Wait until the semester’s over, please,” she said through gritted teeth.
I slapped my books down on the table with a frustrated sigh, drawing irritated glances from half the class, and slumped into a chair. Josie took the seat next to me and wasted no time as she reached under the table and pinched my leg.
“Sit up straight,” she snapped. “Can’t you at least pretend to give a rat’s ass if you pass this course? I swear, if you weren’t an apprentice of Saul’s, Grace would have booted you out of here months ago.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes and reclined back in my chair, daring her to pinch me again.
Grace was the last to enter the classroom. She gave her watch a tired glance and pulled the door shut behind her, flipping the bolt lock with an obnoxious pop that silenced us all. As if showing up late for her class wasn’t humiliating enough. Josie and I had only made that mistake once. Grace showed no mercy as she berated us in front of our snickering classmates. After that, Josie began escorting me to class ten minutes early.
2 Pocket Full of Posies Page 1
