Reaper (The Reaper Chronicles Book 1)

by Apryl Baker

  REAPER

  The Reaper Chronicles

  By Apryl Baker

  REAPER

  Copyright © 2021 by Apryl Baker.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: May 2021

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Book Pages By Design

  Cover Design: Deranged Doctor Design

  ISBN-13: 978-1-954194-14-4

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For everyone who lobbied for the return of Eli Malone.

  You guys made this happen

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ella

  High school sucks, especially when you’re new and it’s the middle of the school year. Thanks to being an Army brat, I’ve moved more times over the last three years than most people do in a lifetime. I can’t wait until I graduate next year and can go to college and settle down in one place for longer than six months. Mom may love all the moving, but my sister and I definitely do not. It’s not an adventure for us like it is for her. It’s a nightmare.

  “So, do you think they’re going to stare?” Cecily bites her lip as we both contemplate the odd structure that is Jacob Falls High School. It’s not a concrete monstrosity. This building is made of stone and wood, like it belongs in the woodsy environment where it finds itself.

  “Yeah, but we’re used to it.” I give my baby sister a confident smile, even though I’m dying on the inside. I hate that Dad did this to her during her freshman year of high school. We moved three times my freshman year, so I got used to it quick, but Cecily is such a gentle soul. She cries if she accidentally kills an ant. I don’t want her to worry about kids being mean to her.

  Not that anyone is ever mean once they actually speak to her. She has this personality that draws people to her, that makes them want to protect her. It helps that she’s quite beautiful. She has Mom’s sun-bleached blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes. I inherited Dad’s blazing red locks and green eyes. They’re bright green, like a jewel. It’s my only point of vanity. My hair is blonde at the moment, though, because I lost a bet to Cecily. I'll go back to my red locks soon enough. I don’t care about my looks, but Cecily has watched thousands upon thousands of hours of YouTube makeup tutorials. She looks runway model-worthy on her worst day. Me? I’m meh about how I look on my best day.

  “Why couldn’t they have just waited the two months until I finished freshman year?” Cecily worries her lip to the point I have to wonder if she’s going to draw blood.

  “That’s just the way it is, Cec. Now, stop dragging your feet and let’s get this done. The sooner we do, the sooner the initial stares will wear off and we can finish our day in some peace. And you might make some really cool friends.”

  Of that, I have no doubt. My sister can make friends in the most hostile of environments. Just look at the time we ended up in a gang-riddled Los Angeles area. She had the drug dealers on the corner looking out for her as we walked to school. Girl’s got skills.

  Me, not so much. I’m much too quiet, prefer to stick my nose in a book, and have been known to go for days without speaking a single word to anyone.

  Ella Banks—socially inept teenager.

  That’s how I’d describe myself.

  I give my sister’s hand one last squeeze and get out of the car, knowing she’ll sit there until I do. She’s always waited for me to take the first step, and like the good big sister I am, I do just that.

  When, in reality, I want to go home and stick my head under the blankets. Ever since I woke up this morning, I’ve had this really bad feeling. Something keeps telling me to go home, to stay inside, to do anything but get my butt to class.

  Shaking off my nerves, I hit the fob and lock the car. The one perk we got this year was that Dad’s new post came with a car, and we got to use his old Toyota Camry. It still looks nice, too, since Dad is anal about taking care of his vehicles. He’s already threatened me and Cecily with dire consequences if we don’t do the same.

  I’ll eat a burger in my car if I want to.

  As long as Dad doesn’t see me doing it.

  “What if they don’t like me?” Cecily frets as we walk toward the school.

  “Of course they’ll like you,” I assure her. “Everyone always likes you.”

  “Martha Clyburne didn’t.”

  “She was just a nasty person who was insecure herself. Don’t let her bother you.” Martha had set about trying to ruin Cecily in seventh grade. Fortunately, it didn’t work simply because Cec is the sweetest person alive. And I had words with the girl. I threatened her. I’m proud of it, too. I may be shorter than my Amazonian sister, but I’m the one with all the grit. No one messes with my baby sister.

  “Catch!” a guy shouts.

  I look up in time to see a football whizzing in my direction. I don’t have time to do anything either. Someone knocks into me, and I fall flat on my butt. He catches the football and then turns around and extends his hand.

  “Sorry about that.”

  The most gorgeous aqua eyes I have ever seen flash impishly. He has a dimple when he smiles, and blond hair glints like honeysuckle in the sun. He’s beautiful.

  It takes me a second to realize he’s trying to help me up. When I do take his hand, a little jolt of electricity buzzes up my arm, and I want to snatch my hand away, but if I do, I’ll fall again. I’ve already humiliated myself once in front of my new classmates. I don’t need to do it again.

  “I’m Eli. That jerk who tossed the football is Jordan. Sometimes his aim isn’t so great, but we’re working on it.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter, feeling awkward. I hate feeling awkward, but this guy is gorgeous, and I’m reminded that I only wore my hair up in a messy bun with no makeup. Normally, I don’t care, but something about him makes me want to think about caring. Think being the operative word. I’d rather be comfortable than high maintenance. Anything longer than five minutes is too much for me.

  “I’m Cecily, and this is my sister, Ella.” Cecily smiles at Eli and Jordan in that sweet way of hers, and both guys are grinning like idiots. See? She can charm someone without even trying. And me? Again, not so much.

  “Are you two new here?” Jordan asks, his own hazel eyes smiling. He’s cute, too, all dark and smoldery, but not as beautiful as Eli. That’s the only word to describe him. Not handsome or cute, or hot, which he is all three, but beautiful is the only thing that does him justice. He looks almost angelic.

  “Yes, we just got into town over the weekend.” Cecily pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, a sure sign she’s into Jordan. He looks like a junior or senior, and I’m not sure Mom and Dad would appreciate him dating their fifteen-year-old.

  “And we need to get to the office so we’re not late to clas
s.” I take Cecily’s arm and start to lead her away from the boys. “Nice to meet you guys.”

  “You too, Shortcake.”

  Now, that stops me, and I turn to face the beautiful boy.

  “I might be short, but I can still kick your butt from one end of this place to the other.”

  His grin widens. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Huffing, I grab my sister, and we make our way inside. “Rude,” I mutter.

  “They’re cute.” Cecily smiles, glancing over her shoulder.

  “Dad won’t think so if you bring one of them home.”

  “Don’t ruin my fun, Ella.”

  “Mom’ll like the view, though.”

  “That’s gross, El.”

  I laugh as we go into the office and pick up our schedules. At least she’s smiling and not worried about the new kids. You’d think we’d be used to the staring by now, but with Cecily, it makes her anxious, which in turn makes me overly protective. To look at us, you’d never guess that to be the case. She’s 5’11”, and I’m barely five foot, but she’s the pacifist and I’m the brawler despite my penchant for being quiet. You have to really rile me up, though. And the fastest way to do that is to mess with Cecily.

  She and I find our lockers—which are side by side, thankfully—and stow our purses behind our combination locks before we part. I give her a chin-up pep talk and tell her to point out any idiot who dares to say something to her.

  My first three classes go by in a blur. Fourth period, world history, yields the beautiful boy from this morning. He’s in the back of the room with what I assume are more football players. The rest of them pale in comparison. I swear, he’s almost glowing.

  Angelic.

  That word pops into my head again as I sit down in one of the few empty chairs near the front. I’ve never met anyone who inspires that particular word, not even my mom, who is beautiful and works as a nurse. But this boy…I shake my head and open my book to the page the teacher tells us. Best to pay attention to the instructor than to let my imagination get away from me.

  When fourth period is over, I head to my locker to get my glucose meter. I need to check my sugar levels before I eat lunch. I’m a type I diabetic, and this is normal to me even if it’s a pain most days. The one week where I decided I knew better than the doctors, I landed in the hospital. It’s not a situation I want to ever repeat.

  “What’s wrong?” Cecily asks as she breezes up to me, a gaggle of girls behind her. I’m not surprised. I knew she’d make friends once she got past her nerves.

  “I can’t find my kit.”

  “You had it this morning in the car. Maybe you left it there?”

  “Yeah, probably. I have to go get it. You go on and eat. I’ll catch up later.”

  “You sure?”

  I wave her off and grab my lunch. School lunches are not good for me either. Too much sugar in everything. I’ve gotten used to bringing my own.

  Outside is just as busy as inside. It’s April, so it’s warm, and the kids are taking full advantage of it. I’ll probably end up sitting outside somewhere myself to give Cecily a chance to chat with her new friends. I’ll just read on my phone to entertain myself while I eat. I’m sure I’ll make a few friends before we move again, but if I don’t, I’m good with that too. I’ve learned not to get too attached. Cecily never did. God bless her.

  As expected, my glucose meter kit is in the floorboard. I must have tried to toss it into my open backpack this morning and missed. An athlete with perfect aim, I am not.

  My fingers are basically immune to the finger pricks of the little needle, so I don’t even flinch when I stab myself. A few seconds later, I’m waiting for my number to flash. A gracious 81. I’m good to eat my sandwich even if it’s on whole wheat bread, which tastes more like cardboard than anything else, but we diabetics do what we must to keep our numbers grounded.

  Shoving the kit into my backpack, I get out of the car and lock it. The sun is high, the birds are chirping, and I’m starved, so I navigate around cars and head back to the school, looking for a good spot to plop down and enjoy my tasteless sandwich and read the newest paranormal romance I downloaded last night.

  I blame what happens next on the distraction that walks out of the school doors and looks right at me.

  Aqua eyes that widen in alarm when they land on me.

  I hear the rev of the engine right before I feel the front end of the car slam into me and then roll over me.

  And still all I can focus on is those eyes of his until the world goes dark.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ella

  Have you ever woken up, but you’re really not awake? That place between dreaming and waking where your mind is aware, but you can’t move a muscle? You start to panic and sometimes even see or hear horrible things? That’s where I find myself. At least that’s as close a comparison as I can come up with.

  It’s dark, and I hear things all around me. Whispers and creatures crawling everywhere, ready to reach out and gobble me up. Everything’s fuzzy, like my mind’s in a fog, but it’s wide awake at the same time. It’s weird.

  I’m scared. I’ve never been anywhere like this, not even in my dreams. I try to shout, but my voice is missing, and I can’t call for help. Panic creeps along my limbs, and it’s worse because I can’t move. I don’t know where I am or how I got here. I wish my daddy would find me like he did when I was little and I got lost while we were camping. But somehow, I know he can’t find me this time.

  Cold wraps around me, and I shiver, trying to break free from whatever bonds are holding me hostage, but it’s useless. It seeps into my bones, and it feels like I’ll never be warm again. I’ve never been this cold before. Maybe I’m out in a blizzard somewhere? But how would that have happened? I was at school. It was a warm day.

  Where the heck am I?

  Hours pass, or is it days? Time loses all sense of meaning here. Only the fear remains constant. The things in the dark, they claw at me, wanting something I can’t give them because I don’t know what they want. If I did, I’d give it to them so they’d leave me alone.

  I hate this. Why am I here? What happened that no one can find me? I want my daddy to come get me, but I can’t even call out for him.

  Being unable to move makes this worse. I’m helpless to defend myself against the things in the dark. Please, someone help me.

  Please.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Eli

  I can’t get the image of her being hit by a car out of my head. She was staring right at me and didn’t see it coming. I barely looked up in time to see the car. She wasn’t breathing when I got to her, but thankfully, I was able to revive her with CPR. I even rode to the hospital with her because we couldn’t find her sister and I didn’t want her to be alone.

  That’s how I find myself sitting in the waiting room alone and confused. The car that hit her didn’t even stop. It kept right on going. As hard as I try, I can’t remember the license plate. I mean, who hits someone and then just leaves? I get that people get scared and panic, but still. You don’t run.

  There’s a shift in the dank air of the hospital, and I turn my head to see the Angel Muriel standing a few feet from me. She’s beautiful, as are all Angels. At least how she appears to me. Her true form is something our senses can’t handle. Even her voice is too much for most, but I can hear it. She was shocked, but I’m not. I do carry the blood of Angels in me, as my ancestors once upon a time drank the blood of an Angel to be able to see the dark things that need to be hunted and killed. It seems to be stronger in me than most, though.

  Her image shimmers, and she comes to sit beside me, her long silver hair flowing down her back, and her blue eyes serious. She’s been put in charge of me and likes to boss me. Or at least thinks she can. I listen to her and only do what I think is best. The ban on seeing my family is a hard rule and one I want to break, but if I do, they might not let me live, and if that happens, then what would I do about Mattie Hathaway?
I am her Guardian Angel, and if she truly needs me, I’ll always be there for her, but I need to be here to do that. Mostly.

  “Hello, Elijah.”

  “Muriel, what are you doing here?”

  It makes me nervous when she comes, because if she’s here, something’s either very wrong or getting that way.

  “The girl, Ella, is why I’m here.”

  “Is she another Guardian?” It’d be nice to have someone like me to talk to.

  “No, she’s a newborn living reaper.”

  My eyes widen. “What?”

  Muriel nods. “Her gift awoke when she died, and you are her new Guardian Angel. The bond began even before she died.”

  I want to tell her no, but that’s not true. The minute I saw her, I wanted to get closer to her, to know her name, and…I shake my head. No. This can’t be happening. Living reapers are rare. My family, the Malones, have it embedded into our DNA by the Angels to protect and care for living reapers. It was a solemn vow my family took back when we became hunters and drank the blood of an Angel. I only know of one other family in Europe with the same vow. We can’t not protect them. It goes against everything we are.

  “Why me? There are other Guardian Angels.”

  “I do not know why you,” Muriel murmurs quietly. “Perhaps because she saw you, and something in her recognized you as her protector. Perhaps because of your vow to protect living reapers. There could be any number of reasons. It’s not something even we Angels can predict or change.”

  “But I’m already Mattie’s Guardian. I thought we only had one charge. How can I protect them both?”

  “She has a new protector. We told you this. Your brother is capable of doing the job.”

  “The bond he has with her makes it impossible for him to fully protect her. Just look at what happened a few weeks ago. He felt everything she did, and they had to knock him unconscious to keep him from losing his mind. She would have died, Muriel, if I hadn’t gone to her.”