Reaper of Earth

by Jen L. Grey

  Reaper of Earth

  The Artifact Reaper Saga

  Jen L. Grey

  Reaper of Earth Copyright © 2018 Jen L. Grey

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Proofread by Kendra Gaither

  Edited by Frankie Blooding

  Cover Design by Covers by Christian

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  About the Author

  Also by Jen L. Grey

  To my readers, friends, and family—thanks for everything. Hope you enjoy my new series.

  1

  Nights like this suck, but I have a job to do. Lord knows, if I fail, I’ll never hear the end of it. Dim overhead lights flicker in the dark alleyway behind Club Felix, and the stench of piss and vomit infiltrates my nose. I remain several feet away from the back entrance and hide behind some empty boxes, trying to stay out of sight.

  The couple out back are up to no good. The guy’s dark hair is tied up in a low ponytail. He adjusts the waist of his jeans, doing a half-ass job of tucking in his polo shirt before taking something from the woman’s hands. He huddles over it and puffs away. Even from where I’m standing, it isn’t hard to see how dilated his pupils are. It’s clearly not his first hit.

  The woman beside him leans all over him like she can’t get enough—either of him, or the drugs. Maybe both. Her brown hair flows over her shoulders and brushes her breasts, which are barely contained by her red tube top. They press against the man’s body as she runs her fingers up and down his chest.

  Gag me now. My target better come out soon. I’m not sure I can watch this show much longer. This club isn’t one of the most reputable around Atlanta, so there isn’t any telling what could go down. If he doesn’t hurry up, I’m going to have to go in and track him down, which is the last thing I want to do.

  The guy outside, having finished whatever he was smoking, gropes the woman, pushing her up against the wall and pressing his mouth to hers.

  Great. Like this night can’t get any better.

  The back door flaps open, and a man with dirty blond hair stumbles out. He side-steps to the left a few times before righting himself, leveling his muddy green eyes at me. Or past me. I can’t tell if he’s sober enough to see anything.

  Finally. My target.

  Falling to the ground, he moans into the concrete, and my heart pounds in my ears.

  There he is. That’s the soul I’m to reap tonight.

  Of course, the couple doesn’t pay any attention to him. They’re too busy going at each other to even notice that someone is out here with them.

  I hold back a laugh. This is just my luck. My target tries to die before I even begin reaping him. Sighing, I step out of my hiding spot and make my way to him. I better hurry before my parents show up and wonder what’s taking so long. The joys of still being a reaper in training.

  When I reach him, I bend down and turn him over. “You need to get up.”

  The light from above the back door shines in his eyes, causing him to wince. “Hey, turn out the lights. I’m trying to sleep.”

  Tugging on his arm, I pull him upright. “Outside a club in the middle of the night?”

  Still half out of it, he doesn’t respond but does assist in standing up.

  At least, that’s something. I throw his arm over my shoulders and guide him to a more isolated area, where my parents are waiting.

  I turn the corner, and Mom’s pacing. Her short blonde bob is immaculate like always, and her beige designer suit is still wrinkle free. The only sign of distress is her slightly pale pallor.

  Dad’s propped against the wall with his arms crossed. His rumpled brown hair stands out, and the top two buttons are undone on his shirt. “Where the hell have you been?”

  This is going well. By this point, this guy has passed out so I’m dragging him over to the wall. I prop him up against it and stand to stretch out my back. “He was difficult getting here. It’s fine now.”

  Dad clenches his jaw. “When you have assignments, it’s important to be efficient.” He takes a step toward me and points to the poor guy passed out on the wall. “There are times you will have multiple targets in one night. You need to focus.”

  For once, could he just spare me the lecture? It seems like this is the same conversation we have day after day. “I know. I get it.”

  Huffing, Mom joins us, her heels echoing against the walls. “Just get this,” she motions her hands toward the poor guy, “over with. I’m ready to get home.”

  A sour taste rolls in my mouth. This is the part I hate. The part I despise.

  Taking a life.

  It doesn’t feel natural to me. Even though I’m a reaper, I’ve struggled with this dichotomy between what I am and how I feel. And over the last two years, it’s gotten worse.

  “Come on, Christina.” Dad sighs. “We don’t have all night.”

  Moving a step toward my target, I take a moment to close my eyes. It would be perfect if time could speed up right now. However, it’s moving at a snail’s pace.

  My shaky hands reach out and touch the guy. I hesitate as I take him in. He can’t be older than thirty.

  Dad clears his throat, making me flinch.

  Ugh, pull yourself together. I’ve got this. It doesn’t matter if he’s not that old. This is my job, my responsibility.

  I touch his arm. His skin is warm and sweaty from whatever drug is running through him. Searching within, I pull from my core, activating my powers. The swirling begins, feeling out of rhythm with my body. I keep pushing it, but before it can pulse, Beth’s face springs to my mind—her hazel eyes vacant as she lay still against the bedroom floor, the blue blouse raised up from her fall, with her long, blonde hair spread around her.

  The pulse becomes just a sputter and I lose the connection to my core. Everything inside me dries up, and the image appears every time I close my eyes.

  “What’s the hold up?” Mom’s shoes clap against the concrete, echoing louder as she makes her way beside me.

  This can’t be happening. Not again. “I just need a minute.”

  Shaking his head, Dad scowls. “Why the hell do you need a minute? We’re reapers. This is what we do.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Just get the damn job done.”

  Rubbing my fingers together, I take a breath. I have to do this. I search deep again, desperate for the connection. I push away the image that keeps haunting my mind, but it still hovers right there at the edge of my awareness. My power begins pulsing but not at the level needed. I dig deeper and visualize a gold thread. I grab it and pull and it helps my power thrum. The stronger it gets, the more my body wants to reject the reaper magic building up. I reach my hands out once more and touch my target. I focus on increasing the power and nothing else, but my body is counteracting it.

  Large hands lay on my shoulders. “You need to concentrate.”

  Holy crap. What does he think I’m doing?

  His touch warms my shoulders, and his power seeps into me, mixing with mine. It increases my reaper power to where it’s as if a tornado is swirling inside me, coursing through me. I feel the soul being pulled from my target.

  His eyes widen for a moment as his life is sucked out of him. When his soul enters me, it’s a cool, ghastly feeling as if a ghost has taken up residence inside me. A chill runs down my spine and my skin crawls.

  After a few moments, the soul vanishes to its final destination, but those seconds of another person’s soul intermingling with mine bother me the most.

  Dad drops his hands. “This is absolutely ridiculous. You are supposed to be on your own in three months, and you still haven’t reaped one soul on your own.”

  “You need to concentrate.” Mom snarls. “You have to get over Beth, honey. It’s been two years. That excuse won’t last forever.”

  My lips flatten, and my breathing shallows. “She was my best friend.”

  Shaking his head, Dad pats my shoulder. “I know, honey, but this is our job. What your mother is trying to say is that you have to get past it. It was an unfortunate event, and we understand it affected you, but you have to move on. If not, there will be severe repercussions for us all.”

  “I know.” I stare at my feet, not wanting to meet their eyes. “I’m trying.”

  “Part of getting older is just doing it.” Mother takes my hand, and her lips smash into a straight line. “We don’t always enjoy everything we do, but we have responsibilities. You just have to put the past behind you and focus on accomplishing your tasks one at a time.”

  This is the same lecture I’ve received for the past several months now. “It’s just not easy for me.”

  Placing his hand on his forehead, Dad closes his eyes and exhales while shaking his head. “Despite the struggle locating your mark the first time, you never had any additional problems with any of this until Beth died.”

  I flinch. He had to go there.

  “Frank,” Mom hisses.

  “No.” He turns and points at her. “This has to be said.” He pivots back to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “Beth has been dead for two years.”

  Closing my eyes, I step back, desperate to get away.

  But his grip is firm and holds me in place. “No. You have to listen.” He gently shakes me. “It’s time to get over it and do your job.”

  My heart feels as if it’s being strangled, and I can’t breathe. I don’t think I’ll ever get over her death.

  Squinting his eyes, he clenches his jaw. “You have to come to grips with it and stop getting distracted.” He bends down, getting in my face. “I mean it, or you will make us all suffer.”

  He’s right. I do need to get my shit together. In three months, I turn twenty, and that’s when I’m expected to be trained and able to go off on my own. By now, reapers like me should be self-reliant and just need extra guidance for the odd occurrences. But, of course, out of all the families in the world, my power’s natural inclination is to restore life and not take it.

  I’ll never forget the day my powers began kicking in. I was twelve years old and was outside sitting underneath a tree reading a book when a bird fell out of the tree. I reached over and touched his chest and felt his life force fade from him. As soon as his essence left, my power churned inside. Soon, it was coursing through my hands, and the next thing I knew, the bird took flight and went back into the tree.

  I didn’t understand it then and, honestly, still don’t. What kind of reaper can bring people back from death? If I thought my parents were disappointed in me now, I bet they would disown me if they ever found out the truth. A reaper’s sole purpose is to take lives to keep the balance between the living and dead and send souls into the appropriate spot in the afterlife. If we don’t adhere to these rules, the offense is punishable by death or torture and your family is stripped of their title and status.

  At this rate, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll make it. No matter how hard I try, Beth’s death will haunt me. If I don’t figure out why my powers aren’t cooperating with me, and fast, I may be joining her in the afterworld sooner rather than later.

  2

  Sitting at the desk in the corner of my room, I cross out another day on the calendar. The remaining days in May glare back at me. I have fifty-two days left before my twentieth birthday.

  Tapping my pencil on the calendar, I lower my head into the palm of my hand. I turn my head to the right and gaze out the window into the backyard. I don’t understand it. No one else has these problems with their powers. A reaper is made for the sole purpose of taking lives when the time comes. So, why am I struggling with this?

  I throw the pencil down on the table and stand, pacing the room. My parents have been disappointed for as long as I can remember. This life and skill set has never come easy for me, and it kills them that I’m not one of the stellar trainees who can lead our kind by example.

  The door downstairs opens and closes, and footsteps make their way into the kitchen.

  Great, Mom must be home, which means it’s getting close to time for another job tonight. Pots and pans clang, and the water turns on.

  Shit, I better find the new target before I have an audience. Even though I’m not supposed to know who my target is until I’m handed the folder, I have the uncanny ability to find things. At least this is the one part of the hunt I enjoy. My skin prickles, and I get a little breathless. This is the easy, fun part for me, even though my methods are… unconventional.

  I shut the door to my room and lock it. I do not want my parents walking in and catching me. That would begin the whole night off on the wrong foot.

  The night of my tenth birthday comes flashing through my mind.

  Almost ten years ago

  My heart pounded so hard, the sound echoed in my ears. I’d both been waiting and dreading this day for my whole life. This was the first big milestone in any reaper’s life. This was the age when I would begin to hunt. Finding a target was the most crucial step in the process, so parents were taught to train their children young. If you couldn’t find them, you couldn’t reap.

  Even though it was my birthday, Mom and Dad had to attend an elder’s meeting, so I’d been home alone most of the day. I wasn’t sure what to expect that night, but I couldn’t wait to be a part of the process.

  The front door opened and closed. Oh, they’re here. My pulse sputtered.

  “Christina?” My father’s tone sounded hurried. “Please come join us. It’s time.”

  This was it. This was my opportunity to shine. My short legs propelled me toward the hallway and down the stairs.

  As I walked down the stairs, I held on to the long, brass handrails and glanced at my parents down at bottom in the foyer. They stood by the front doors with their backs toward me. I wondered what it would be like if, for once, they would be turned my direction and smiling at my arrival.

  When I reached the bottom of the stairs, they didn’t even acknowledge my presence, except my mother who held out a picture to me.

  They had yet to tell me happy birthday, but I guessed it was okay since they acknowledged it by letting me hunt their next target. Taking a deep breath, I took the picture of an old lady. This must be one of their targets for
the night.

  My mom raised an eyebrow. “Don’t just stand there. Find her. Our family has done this for decades; it should be inherent.”

  Sweat covered my palms. One of our abilities is to transport to our target. That’s the only time we can travel that way and home afterwards. They had shown me, during the past month leading up to this moment, how to stare at the picture and let your body take over. However, when I did what I’d been taught, nothing happened.

  After a few moments, my stomach soured and hands quivered. This can’t be right. Nothing’s happening.

  My dad snatched the picture from me and glanced at Mom. “Is this even the right person, Janice?”

  She scowled. “Of course, it is. Why else would I have given her that?””

  I hated it when they fought like this.

  He handed the picture back to me. “Then, if this is the right picture, you must not be concentrating. Don’t overthink it. Just let your instincts take over. Both my and your mother’s family have been top-of-the-line reapers for decades. You will figure this out and fast.”

  Clutching the picture, I focused until it became blurry. Huffs and groans reaffirmed the disappointment that would reflect in their eyes when I was brave enough to look up.

  After a few more seconds, my dad clenched his hands. “That’s enough.” He snatched the picture again and glared at it. “We will show you how this is done one more time, but tomorrow, you will figure it out. Do you understand?”