Rogue Reaper

by Riley Archer

  Rogue Reaper

  A Reaper Collective Novel

  Riley Archer

  Copyright © 2019 by Riley Archer

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at rileyarcher.com

  Cover Designer: Covers by Combs

  Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  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 the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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

  ISBN: 9781709409073

  ASIN: B07ZS426K6

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. The Glitch

  2. The Promotion

  3. The New Identity

  4. The Roommates

  5. The Peeping Tom

  6. The Unoriginal Black Market

  7. The Wet T-Shirt Contest

  8. The Bad Boy

  9. The Break-In

  10. The Nightclub

  11. The Kidnapping

  12. The Laughing Puppeteer

  13. The Paper People

  14. The Necromancer Queen

  15. The Reverse Snow White

  16. The Brother from Another Monster

  17. The Minions

  18. The Heist

  19. The Kidnapping, Take Two

  20. The Devil’s Instrument

  21. The Trials

  22. The Therapy Group

  23. The Phantom Whipping

  24. The ABC Calamity

  25. The Apprehension

  Also by Riley Archer

  About the Author

  1

  The Glitch

  There was smoke, crimson asphalt, and a chorus of screeches—a high-pitched whine both metal and human. It was like the world itself had slowed to watch this gruesome moment.

  Yeah, I was convinced even Mother Nature could be guilty of rubbernecking.

  I was on the sidelines of something equal parts tragic and frantic. In other words, it was a regular Tuesday for a Collector in my specialty. And I’d just arrived at my place of collection.

  Now, where is my objective?

  Ah, there.

  She was at the border of the scene, her jaw twitching back and forth like a rusty seesaw in a storm. Her coloring flickered, like a struggling lighter almost out of fluid. She didn’t notice as I took careful steps toward her; she was consumed by the gore of her mangled body and what used to be her beater of a car. Thanks to the tree she’d hit, it was now something beyond beaten.

  I stopped a foot away from her. Getting too close would be stupid. And stupid meant failing.

  “Hailey, right?” I gave her the tentative wave of a long-lost acquaintance.

  She perked just a bit, a small lift of the chin. She was still partly receptive, which was a win in this business.

  My job was to talk her, and other risky souls, off the ledge and guide them into the Abyss.

  The word abyss made it sound like an ominous place, but that was just the slang term reapers had come up with. I wasn’t sure what the afterlife was really like—after all, my death had been interrupted, so I never made it there—but I’d heard it was different for everyone. Depended on who or what you prayed to, preyed on, et cetera. Could be heavenly or hellish or anything in between. What did I know?

  Well, I knew Hailey would never get there if she glitched first.

  I’d seen her type before. Young and pretty but with delicate worry lines, slight bruising under the eyes. Tired. She’d lived a hard life, nothing handed to her. Childhood trauma was an everlasting weight on her back—which, okay, I knew from her file, but I’d have known that even if her life story hadn’t slapped my desk ten minutes prior to my arrival. Anyway, she’d worked away most of her youth, and now, she was gone too early to reap the rewards.

  She’d never caught her break. And though her death was dramatic, for a life like hers, it was anticlimactic.

  That was why she had been deemed a high risk to glitch. Most Glitches were powerful enough to wipe out a neighborhood, some entire zip codes. Not that anyone would know what had hit them. Reaper Collective had ties to government agencies all over the world, so sentiments like, Hey, that Glitch sure did a number on us last week! would never make it to the mainstream. Other tragedies were used to cover up a Glitch gone wild. The most powerful Glitches—a rare, select few—could wipe out metropolitan cities and consume every living thing inside them.

  So, which are you, Hailey?

  I hoped I wouldn’t find out. “Hailey, focus on me.”

  She finally gave me her attention. Her dead stare felt heavy on mine. Her eyes had been blue in life, but they’d turned gray. Cloudy. She was close to tipping.

  I dialed my tone just right. “I know this is confusing. Not how this day was supposed to end, much less this chapter of your life, right? But guess what. It’s not the end. It’s just a new page. A move. You deserve to move on to better things. Are you ready for the rest of your story?”

  She opened her mouth and closed it, and some of the darkness left her gaze. I was getting somewhere.

  I held out my hand. “Will you follow me?”

  A tiny squeak escaped her ethereal throat.

  Before her palm could touch mine, a spectral wolf-whistle pierced the air. No, not a wolf-whistle. A siren call, an alarm. Something unholy.

  It seemed to stab Hailey right in the chest. I lasered in on her and gripped her shoulders as if that would keep her steady. What had once been a tiny squeak grew into a monstrous gurgle. Her eyes deepened to the color of ink, and she opened her mouth so wide that her jaw unhinged. Her skin shredded like gooey paper, making way for the dark mass beneath it.

  Shit.

  “Hailey! No!”

  The force of her glitch threw me to my tailbone, and since I wasn’t a spirit form like her, it sent a shock wave of hurt up my spine.

  I watched in either horror or awe as globular black matter bubbled from her mouth, nose, ears, and eyes until it loomed six feet above my head.

  Good-bye, Hailey. Hello, Glitch. Excuse me. Ginormous Glitch.

  I pressed the tiny red button sewn into my sleeve and hoped Otto would show up in time.

  I had probably ten seconds before this thing swallowed me, the paramedics, and the onlookers whole. But they couldn’t see the monster or the danger they were in. Lucky them.

  I tossed my spirit net at the oversize ink spill, but instead of my net enclosing around it, the thing sucked it in, yanking my arm with it. I pressed into my heels and yanked back before I realized that pulling it toward me was a bad idea.

  Reaper Collective could afford to lose a net. I couldn’t afford to lose my soul.

  As soon as I let go, my net was no more.

  My heart sank a bit. I really enjoyed that piece of equipment, even if I only used it to piss off my sparring partners. If a reaper couldn’t play dirty, who could?

  “Otto!” I screamed at the sky, positioning myself between the Glitch and civilians. “Yeah, sure, take your time!”

  “Should I head back then? You look like you have things under control,” said a deep, annoyingly calm voice from my back. His black cloak brushed my elbow as he moved beside me. “By the way, you should probably address me as Grim Tanaka—or just Grim if you want to be personal.”

  The arrogance that came with promotion.

  I crossed my arms. “But you’ll always be
Recruiter to me.”

  “How unlucky am I to be assigned to you both times?”

  I almost laughed, but the Glitch moved at us—and fast.

  Why the hell isn’t Otto doing anything?

  “Okay, Mr. Grim! Can I get some help here?”

  I dodged the Glitch, circled, and pelted five spirit barrier balls at it, but the inky mass caught them before they exploded. With each, the Glitch shivered and grew, as if absorbing the energy.

  Finally, a weighty clink shook the ground. Lord Grim had deigned to unveil his scythe—aka do his freaking job.

  “Hailey!” I said, just in case she was still in there somewhere with the aim to distract.

  Otto was in the air now, the curve of his blade aligning to its target. The burnished silver winked in the sunlight before it came down.

  Three swipes and the Glitch was out. Severed, shriveled, and poof. Gone.

  Me: 0. Otto: 1. Hailey: –1,000.

  A spirit elevator opened up, the off lighting and stale stench similar to one from the physical world. Except that real-world elevators didn’t transcend layers of reality. Reaper Collective tried their best to surround their recruits in the familiar; they had even added quiet, eerie music to accompany us back to the office. It was almost comical. What wasn’t comical was the report that was waiting for me on the other side.

  A Grim had been called in. A soul had been lost instead of collected. Fail and fail. I’d get an interrogation—both paper and face-to-face. I felt like taking it out on Mr. Grim Otto Tanaka, who’d lowered his hood to show off shiny, wavy black hair. He’d let his facial hair grow out a little. I wished it made him appear messier, just a smidgen less composed. Instead, it just gave me the urge to run my hand along his pristine jawline and made me hot with more than just annoyance, which annoyed me even more.

  I stared at the tiled ceiling. “You know, you’d probably be out of a job if they bothered to give me something pointy.”

  Otto protectively moved his scythe away. “But, Ellis, we wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.”

  I crossed my arms. “That’s Collector Kennicot to you.”

  Then he patted my head, and I thought him lucky I hadn’t been given anything to cut with.

  2

  The Promotion

  I laid down the pen and stretched my hand. Why RC Form 5000: Soul Glitch Report couldn’t be typed was a mystery I’d never solve. I reentered the bustle of the Command Section and slid my report into the due-ins slot. I waited for whoever was behind the wall to receive it to give me instructions.

  The intercom buzzed with staticky noise, and a nasal-sounding voice blared, “Grim Tanaka and your caseworker will see you in Interview Room One. Thank you.”

  In true form, Otto was still in his lush black cloak, sitting next to a tiny blonde woman in a sleek gray suit. I was in a long-sleeved white shirt and loose, thick charcoal pants lined with pockets for all my gadgets. We weren’t a colorful bunch, but I could tell my caseworker didn’t approve.

  I could practically hear her incessant nag, Business casual in the office, Ellis. Not adult-angst casual. To which I would reply—only in my head—Bite me, Linda.

  I sat across from them in the position of interrogation.

  “Collector Kennicot.” Linda straightened some papers in her hand. “How are you this evening?”

  “I’d be better if I knew where this hiccup put me on the promotion line.”

  Linda gave me a tight smile. “Reapers don’t promote; they evolve.” She paused for increased effect.

  The effort was wasted on me. Linda had been my caseworker for my entire three years as a Collector, and I knew how to push her buttons.

  “Now, why don’t we start at the beginning? What state was Hailey Godwin in when you arrived?”

  I detailed everything. Otto watched with his analyzing mocha-eyed stare. Linda gave nothing away. At least, not until I told her about the siren call—or Glitch call, if you will. That’s when her composure broke, and she regarded me like a child who’d snuck food out of the fridge at midnight, fed it to the dog, and then lied about it.

  She rubbed her lips together and blinked too many times. “There’s never been such a thing in recorded history.”

  I shrugged. “Then I guess it’s new, or it’s never been recorded.”

  Otto rubbed a thumb along his jaw, and I tried not to stare. “Who would benefit from a soul glitching instead of moving on?”

  I shrugged again. “Another Glitch. A smart, lonely one.”

  Linda closed her notepad. “Glitches don’t think; they just consume and destroy.”

  This wasn’t going anywhere. Why let it be boring? “Maybe their origins got their rabies shot before they died.”

  Linda did a polite little cough—her tell when she was annoyed. She excused herself and clacked her way out of the room. Otto shook his head, aware that I was prodding her. Whatever. I knew I had a year or more until I hit Recruiter, and another mouthy, bad day wouldn’t impact much.

  “I’ll do some research,” Otto said once she was gone.

  He moved to leave himself, and my disobedient hand reached out and grabbed his wrist before he passed me. His warm pulse thrummed beneath my fingers, and I swore my heart gave a single, heavy beat before embarrassment stilled it. I yanked my hand back and ran it along my ponytail.

  He was looking right at me, still as stone. I chose not to meet his eye.

  “Um, it felt intentional—the call. None of the civilians heard it. It had a specific target, and it hit the bulls-eye.”

  Otto nodded, said nothing more, and left.

  My cheeks and neck burned the entire way to the cafeteria. Embarrassment had a way of spoiling an appetite, but I kept to my routine anyway. Reapers required less consumption, being human with a dash of spirit matter and all, but eating was a crutch of normalcy.

  The cafeteria kind of reminded me of a hospital. The food was hit or miss, and way too many people ate Jell-O.

  It didn’t matter what they were serving up tonight. I’d need something Michelin star-worthy to stop thinking about that utter mess-up. Make that two utter mess-ups.

  I couldn’t believe I’d touched him.

  “Hey, Death Collector,” a familiar voice called out while I plucked things to add to my tray.

  Diana sat alone at a table behind me. Dirt patches peppered her clothes and her dark brown skin. But her smile gleamed. She’d had a successful day.

  “Yo,” I said back, attempting a halfhearted salute.

  We had NDs—near deaths—around the same time. Both moved up to the High-Risk Department early, which, if done well, was a gravy train to Recruiter. And since we had both been recruited by Tanaka, we were practically sisters. Semi-antisocial sisters.

  “Woo,” she whistled and took a bite of her overcooked spaghetti. “I won’t ask.”

  Like I’d said, practically sisters.

  I gave her a grateful nod. I took a gulp of blended mush, devoured an apple, and headed for the gym.

  Work sweat was so much better than nervous sweat.

  My muscles ached in all the best ways when I lay down to sleep, my ashy-brown hair stringy and wet from the shower.

  In Low-Risk, we had bunk beds. This itty-bitty single room felt like a sanctuary. Shared showers, but still a significant step up. Actual salary and a private bathing space wouldn’t come into play until I reached Recruiter—when it was possible to live in the physical world again.

  That was my light at the end of the tunnel—my goal, my motivation. It sucked that reapers were barred from contacting people from their past lives, forbidden from a true attempt to rejoin that part of society. I tried not to focus on that. I focused on what I could control, which was the quality of my work.

  I knew what Linda had been thinking earlier. That I wanted to protect my near-perfect track record, so I’d made up the glitch call I had heard. I hoped Otto believed me. He seemed like he did. And then I had gotten all touchy-feely and made it weird.

&
nbsp; Shame coiled in my chest, but I wrangled it free.

  In the safe, protected zone of my subconscious, I let the (truly minuscule and innocent) crush I was harboring stretch its limbs.

  Otto would never take me seriously in that way, which was probably why I let the little seed of attraction fester in the dark of the night. Besides, he made my gears grind raw half the time with his stoic, sarcastic, unreachable presence. In training, I’d often wanted to yank that scythe from him and see what damage I could do, except that I knew he’d kill me. And since I’d lived through one death, I wasn’t keen on experiencing another.

  It was just something to preoccupy my bored mind when I was alone. But if this slight fantasy had started invading my wakened life and making my hand jump out at the guy, it was probably time to squash it.

  I let myself dive into that secret space again. One last visit before I locked it up.

  I thought about the flex of his jaw, the warmth in his hand. His tortuous non-smile. The way his dark eyes would sparkle when I amused him, though he’d never admit it. Now, I could add the feel of his rhythmic pulse, powerful but faint. It was like that for all of us half-alive beings—specially made to cross barriers. He seemed more alive, more solid than the rest of us. But maybe that was my skewed perspective.

  Something airy fluttered through my core, and then I caged it.

  Sleep flittered in and out of my head, restless. I was sinking, sinking, sinking until I was submerged. Paralyzed within my twenty-one-year-old body, unable to change my movements or decisions as I ascended the stairs to my death.