Lost Reaper (The Reaper Series Book 1)

by Shelley Russell Nolan

  Moving slowly, careful not to jostle my head, I squinted my eyes against the punishing glare of the bathroom light as I got out of the bath and wrapped my towel around me. I switched off the light and then fumbled in the medicine drawer for stronger migraine medication. I swallowed two of them, washing them down with water from the tap. Then I braced myself against the sink and waited to see if the tablets would stay down.

  Thoughts jumbled, movements sluggish, a staccato rhythm pounding on the inside of my skull, I stumbled into my room and pulled on my pyjamas. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, bringing tears to my eyes as I closed the curtains. I shut the door and put the ceiling fan on full to drown out noise. Then I lowered myself onto my unmade bed, pulling the covers up to my neck. I lay motionless, concentrating on my breathing as I waited for the medication to kick in. Only time and sleep would get rid of this migraine. I would tackle my reaper problem when I woke up.

  I expected to sleep for a couple of hours, to wake with a headache reduced enough for me to be able to function with the help of standard headache tablets. Light inched its way through gaps in the curtains and I thought I hadn’t slept long enough, but only a dull ache remained in the back of my head, and the tension in my neck and shoulders had eased.

  My throat was dry, one of the unpleasant side effects of migraine medication, and I got up and stumbled into the kitchen in search of my water bottle.

  ‘Morning,’ said Sarah, ‘or what’s left of it.’ She sat at the kitchen table, a magazine spread out in front of her. ‘I guess a good night’s sleep was just what the doctor ordered. You look heaps better than you did yesterday.’

  ‘Yesterday?’ My voice squeaked as I peered at the clock on the microwave.

  Eleven am. No wonder my headache had almost gone, I’d been asleep for over twenty hours. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t had anything other than coffee for even longer. I made myself a bowl of cereal and sat down opposite Sarah. I held the spoon up to my mouth, stopping short when I caught her watching me.

  I put the spoon back in the bowl and stood before heading into the lounge room and plonking myself on the couch. How could I sit across from her and eat breakfast like it was an ordinary Saturday and we were best friends again? I shovelled cereal into my mouth, chewing and swallowing each spoonful even though my appetite had vanished.

  ‘Tyler, I screwed up, I know, and I am so sorry I hurt you. Please talk to me, tell me how to fix this so everything can go back to the way it was.’

  I dumped my bowl on the coffee table, the spoon over balancing and leaving a puddle of milk on the smooth timber surface. I took a deep breath, willing back tears as I confronted Sarah.

  ‘There is no going back. What you did, if it was anyone else I’d be able to forgive them. But not you. You were more than my best friend. You were my family. I loved you and believed nothing would ever come between us, and certainly not a guy. I hope the sex was worth it. If not, you screwed away the best part of your life.’

  I stared at her, watching as tears spilled down her cheeks, tears twins to my own. She put out a hand towards me and I shook my head. Her hand dropped to her side and she turned away, long brown hair falling forward to cover her face. I could hear her sniffling and had to stop myself from moving towards her. I’d been there for her through every triumph and disaster over the last twenty-one years, ever since the day we’d sat next to each other in kindergarten.

  But today I had no comfort to give. She’d lost the right to my support, even though I could do nothing to staunch my own tears. My heart ripped down the middle as I backed away from her, leaving her standing alone in the kitchen as I fled to my room.

  Like a whirlwind, I whipped around the room. The bed got made and I dressed in seriously quick time, choosing a cowl neck top that would hide the necklace Grimm had chained me with. Then I dashed into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I didn’t want to face Sarah again, couldn’t face her. I couldn’t even face myself, avoiding my reflection as I scrubbed away tears and covered the evidence with makeup. Each time I took a breath, slowed down, the image of Sarah with her hand outstretched and her hazel eyes full of entreaty hammered at me.

  It became harder and harder to push it away, to blank my mind. I needed to keep occupied, to get busy and find a way to think about anything other than the loss of my best friend. If she’d died, it would have been easier to let her go, heartbreaking but final. Betrayal was turning out to be an endless source of torture.

  Normally, a family get-together would have been the last thing I craved. But today I almost welcomed the coming lunch. Dad and the others were sure to give me plenty to focus on, none of it good.

  When I emerged from the bathroom Sarah’s bedroom door was closed and I let out a sigh, grateful I wouldn’t have to face her again. I went back into my room and grabbed Dad’s present out of my wardrobe before heading into the lounge to find my bag and keys.

  Sarah’s VW was parked on the front lawn so I had no trouble backing my Corolla out of the driveway. Once I’d suffered through lunch I could continue searching for the lost reaper and find a way to break my contract with Grimm.

  Chapter 8

  ‘Where’s Logan?’ My half-brother, Connor, asked the second I walked through the front door of the weatherboard house I’d grown up in, craning his neck to see around me from his position on the couch. He held up a stubby cooler with a nude woman’s torso on the front. ‘I’ve got a cold one ready for him.’

  ‘He’s not coming.’ I sidestepped his outstretched feet. ‘You’ll have to drink his.’

  I stopped in front of Dad’s armchair and held out his present. ‘Happy birthday, Dad,’ I said as I waited for him to take his eyes off the TV and acknowledge me.

  He grunted, tilting his head to one side for the obligatory birthday kiss. On the cheek, of course, Robert Morgan never kissed anyone on the lips other than his current wife and never in public view. He put his stubby cooler down on the lamp table by his chair and accepted my present, unbending enough to give half a sideways smile.

  I dropped my bag on the floor beside the other armchair, then sat down and checked my watch. Eleven forty-five. I’d made better time than I’d thought but it would be at least two hours before I could get away. Two hours of football and family. I should have bought a magazine.

  An ad came on and Dad started talking to Connor about the highlights of a game he’d watched the night before, my gift sitting unopened on his lap.

  ‘Aren’t you going to open your present, Dad?’ I asked

  He gave another grunt before using calloused fingers to rip away the ribbon I had painstakingly tied. Then he pulled aside the wrapping paper and frowned when he saw a large block of rocky road. He picked it up in one hand and tossed it to Connor.

  ‘I’m on a diet,’ he said to me. ‘Your brother can have it.’

  I turned my grimace into a smile and waited for him to notice what else I’d put in his parcel.

  He held up the football jersey I’d ordered over the internet, squinting at the label. ‘XXXL. Bloody hell, girl, how big do you think I am?’

  ‘I thought you’d like some room to move,’ I said, startled by the black looks I received from both him and Connor. I’d rung Rhonda weeks ago to check what size Dad wore.

  ‘Geez, Ty, an elephant would have room to move in that,’ said Connor, saluting me with his beer before taking a swig. ‘Nice one.’

  I stuck my tongue out at him, and then twisted around when the front door opened. I smiled when my older half-brother stepped inside. Andrew never had any more luck than I did in pleasing Dad, maybe even less seeing as he was male and therefore supposedly capable of so much more. His latest disaster would take the heat off me. He carried a gaudily wrapped present under one arm, a fishing rod, no amount of ribbon able to disguise its shape.

  While grateful for his timely arrival, I didn’t get up to greet him when he stepped into the middle of the lounge. I settled for a murmured hello as he made h
is way over to Dad. The familiar and overpowering scent of his aftershave assailed me as it wafted along behind him and I put a hand up to cover my nose and mouth, rubbing a spot between my eyes.

  My eyes started to sting. I could taste his aftershave in the back of my throat and, nose twitching, held my breath. Andrew handed his parcel to Dad. Connor sat on the edge of his seat, his eyes on Andrew and not Dad as he unwrapped the rod. My younger half-brother had a smug grin on his lips, and my stomach muscles clenched.

  ‘Happy birthday, Dad,’ said Andrew. ‘I’ll bet you catch heaps of fish with this one. The man at the shop said it was a beauty and I heard you’ve wanted to buy yourself one for a while.’

  Andrew received one of Dad’s expressive grunts. ‘Got the rod I was after this morning, from Connor. He knows what his old man likes, don’t you boy?’

  ‘Enough with the boy stuff, old man.’ Connor stood and faked a jab into Andrew’s midsection. ‘Course, if I’d known you were going to get it for him, Andy, I’d have grabbed something else.’

  Andrew gave a strangled laugh. No doubt Connor had been the one to tell Andrew what to buy, so he could sit and watch as his half-brother made another mistake. Nothing like sibling rivalry to bring a family together.

  We didn’t look like a family. Well, to be honest, everyone else blended in. Andrew and Connor both took after Dad, with the bluest of eyes and golden blonde hair. Handsome, tall, and with athletic builds, their physiques would turn to flab once they hit middle age if they continued to mirror Dad. I could picture all three of them in years to come, sitting on the couch, able to rest plates on their stomachs.

  I, on the other hand, may have grown up without my mother but she was with me each time I looked in the mirror. She’d been adopted so I had no older female relatives to give me an idea of what future my genes might hold in store.

  Looks weren’t the only thing my mum and I shared. I’d been told countless times that I had her stubborn streak. Dad didn’t mean it as a compliment, but I liked knowing I wasn’t the only one not to fit the Morgan family mould.

  ‘What’s Logan up to this morning?’ Andrew asked.

  I continued to rub at my face, taking shallow breaths in case his aftershave was still at lethal force, while my brain searched for a plausible excuse. I had been determined to avoid getting into a discussion about my disastrous love life, but something about the beseeching expression on his face made me decide to tell the truth. He’d already been conned by Connor. He didn’t deserve to be lied to as well.

  ‘I have no idea what Logan is doing and I don’t want to know. We’re not together anymore,’ I said.

  The room went silent, three sets of blue eyes pinning me in place and I squirmed, pulling my hand away from my face to fuss with my hair. Andrew’s aftershave had dispersed enough for me to be able to breathe without choking, but my level of discomfort remained high as Dad, Connor and Andrew continued to stare at me.

  ‘It’s no big deal. People break up all the time.’ I gave a shrug, and then made a show of digging in my bag to check my phone.

  ‘What did you do?’ asked Connor.

  My head flung up and I glared at my younger half-brother. ‘I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t working out.’

  He snorted. ‘You must have done something to make Logan break up with you.’

  ‘For your information, I broke up with him.’

  ‘What would you do a stupid thing like that for?’

  I swallowed down the lump in my throat and tossed my head, making my hair slide over my shoulders. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Stick with your football and rocky road.’ I waved a hand at the gift my dad had so easily discarded.

  ‘It was your decision to go to university, wasn’t it?’ Dad frowned. ‘Logan has never been happy about it, and he’s right. Men don’t want a wife who spends her time swanning around trying to pretend she’s doing something important.’

  ‘Being a journalist is important, and anyway, Logan and I weren’t serious or anything. We’d only been together for three months.’

  ‘It would have been serious if you’d had your priorities straight. Nothing is as important as taking care of your man.’ He grabbed the phone from its cradle on the lamp table and tossed it over to me. ‘Call Logan. Tell him you made a mistake and you’re giving up on this pipe dream of yours.’

  I gripped the phone in fingers curled like claws. ‘I am not quitting uni, and I am sure as hell not calling Logan.’

  ‘Watch your mouth, girl. Now, do what I told you. Ring Logan and tell him to get his arse over here.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I will,’ said Dad.

  ‘We are never getting back together,’ I burst out. ‘He cheated on me.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? Logan cheated. I caught him in bed with another woman.’

  ‘Men have needs, you know, and if you weren’t so caught up in pretending to be a journalist Logan wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere.’

  I froze, staring at Dad with stinging eyes, nails digging into my palms.

  ‘Dad, maybe this isn’t the best time for Tyler to be ringing Logan,’ said Andrew. ‘He’s probably not too happy with her right now and needs time to cool off before she talks to him again.’

  I bowed my head as I listened to Andrew, biting my lip to stop myself from exploding. If Dad thought my language unbefitting a woman before, his ears would be scorched if he heard what I wanted to say now.

  Dad let out another grunt, then turned back to the television as the football came back on. But he gave off one last parting shot. ‘Make yourself useful, girl. Go help your mother. Tell her I’m ready to eat.’

  I swallowed my automatic retort. Rhonda was Connor’s mother, not mine. But saying so would lead to a full-on argument and I’d had enough drama in the last few days. Besides, nothing I said ever made a difference.

  I stomped into the kitchen and Rhonda cast a disapproving frown my way. ‘Your father’s right, you know. Men like women who put them first. You’re never going to find a husband if you don’t change your attitude.’

  Long brown hair pulled back into a severe bun, mouth in a familiar thin line, Rhonda smoothed down the front of her dress. ‘You could also have a go at dressing like a girl, instead of wearing jeans all the time.’

  Anger burned away my tears. ‘Rhonda, I am not going to get into this with you. Is lunch ready? Dad’s hungry.’

  Rhonda gave a sniff, then handed me a set of oven mitts and pointed at the stove.

  I ferried food to the dining room, plonking the hot dishes in the middle of the table.

  How could they think Logan’s behaviour was acceptable, that it was my fault he cheated? He slept with Sarah. I could never forgive him for that.

  Lemonade sloshed over my hands, soaking the tablecloth as I shoved a large jug into a gap between the potato bake and the lasagne. I wiped my hands on my jeans as I stepped back, and then rubbed at my temples. This lunch was shaping up as the worst family gathering of all time. I couldn’t let them provoke me, not today.

  Rhonda called out for the menfolk to come eat. I stood aside as Dad and Connor headed into the dining room with Andrew trailing behind. Dad switched on the TV mounted on the wall at the opposite end of the room as he took his seat at the head of the table, then the rest of us took our assigned places. Rhonda was always on Dad’s left, Connor to the right. I was seated beside Rhonda, with Andrew opposite me. Before Rhonda sat, she spread a serviette over Dad’s lap and made sure he and Connor had a fresh beer. Andrew and I were left to pour ourselves a glass of lemonade.

  We sat in silence as Rhonda piled up a plate with food for Dad and then repeated the process for Connor. Once the favoured family members were served, the rest of us got to tuck in and for the next few minutes Andrew, Rhonda and I passed around platters filled with homemade potato and pasta salads dripping in mayonnaise, roast chicken, corned beef with cheese sauce, lasagne and potato bake. So much for Dad’s diet.
Halfway through his food, he gestured for Rhonda to get him some more potato bake before she’d even finished filling her own plate.

  ‘What’s Sarah been up to lately? I haven’t seen her out at the clubs the last couple of weeks.’ Connor reached in front of Andrew and speared a chunk of chicken off the platter with his fork, shoving it into his mouth. ‘She got a new man?’ he asked in between chews.

  ‘I have no idea.’ I picked up my fork and used it to push the small portion of food on my plate around, wondering if I could choke any of it down.

  ‘Come off it, you two finish each other’s sentences, like you’re twins or something. You’d know if she was seeing someone.’

  ‘Why do you care?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve been thinking it’s time she and me hooked up.’

  ‘Sarah wouldn’t go out with you. She’s got way better taste,’ was my automatic response.

  ‘Ain’t nothing better than this.’ He banged on his chest, earning a slap on the back from Dad.

  ‘Do you mind, we’re trying to eat here?’ Andrew gave a grimace. ‘You’re putting me off my food.’

  ‘Your stomach ain’t the only thing off about you,’ said Connor. ‘I bet you’ve never even had a girlfriend. Good thing, too. You wouldn’t know what to do with one.’

  Andrew’s face flushed red and his knuckles whitened when he tightened his grip on the cutlery in his hands. He turned to Connor, fork raised and I pushed my seat back, stunned by the change in my usually mild brother.

  At the head of the table Dad stopped eating, lapping up the conflict between his sons. Rhonda would never step in without Dad’s permission, so that left me. But how could I diffuse a situation I had no experience with? Andrew hated conflict, the idea of him resorting to violence should have been ridiculous and yet as I watched him rise out of his seat I couldn’t think of anything to say to defuse the situation.