WINGED REAPER
By
SHELLEY RUSSELL NOLAN
Winged Reaper
Published 2016.
Copyright © Shelley Russell Nolan 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval systems without the prior written permission of the author or publisher, Atlas Productions.
Publisher: Atlas Productions
Greenslopes QLD 4102
Web: www.atlasproductions.com.au
Cover design: Kris Sheather, Two Decade Designs, www.twodecadedesigns.com
Wing illustration: Katie Litchfield
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or where locations, characters and incidents are based on experience, history or established locations, they are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. Any news events or historic characters cited in this novel have been fictionalised and any slight of specific people, research or organisations is unintentional.
Also by Shelley Russell Nolan
Lost Reaper (first in the Reaper series)
Angel Fire
(Sisters of the Shadows: Volume 1)
Specul8: An Execution in Waste Disposal
Central Queensland Journal of Speculative Fiction
Issue 1
Specul8: The Well
Central Queensland Journal of Speculative Fiction
Issue 2
For Fluffybutt and Fleabite
1
I hovered over the twisted body of my latest client, streetlights in the large roundabout shining down on the accident scene. So young, he looked to be barely out of his teens, face oddly serene despite the carnage surrounding him. He lay on the verge of the highway leading west out of Easton. Skid marks decorated the road, motorcycle wreckage was strewn for metres in all directions. No sign of another vehicle.
This late at night, it could be hours before he was discovered.
I sighed, wishing I could help him. But in astral form there was nothing I could do, and even once I returned to my body I couldn’t risk exposure by notifying the authorities. In the past week I’d had more than my fair share of contact with the police, and any more would bring with it a scrutiny I couldn’t afford if I was to keep my identity as a reaper secret. Although part of me longed to call Sam, Detective Lockwood, and tell him the truth.
I shook my head, hair flowing around me as I forced thoughts of Sam and his steady hazel gaze out of my head and focused on the task at hand. I clutched the necklace that had turned me into a living reaper and called forth my client’s soul. It sprang free, eager to continue on its journey, full of light and hope. A sense of contentment and goodwill swept over me as I stored the soul in my necklace, extinguishing its light. Immediately, the familiar draw of my physical body pulled me back to Chris’s penthouse.
That’s Chris Bradbury, former reaper, would-be lover, and the man I’d sacrificed my mother’s soul for.
Jonathon Grimm, the Grim Reaper, had warned me what would happen if I didn’t turn Chris’s soul over to him – he had promised to torture my mother’s soul for an eternity if I defied him, and I had done it anyway. I’d had no choice. I couldn’t give in to Grimm’s demands, no matter how much I wanted to set my mother free. Too much was at stake. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Grief choked me as I floated through the ceiling of the penthouse. My body lay on the queen sized bed in the spare room I’d been using for the last couple of days. My arms were crossed over my chest, fingertips brushing the necklace that bound me to the Underworld. I slipped into my body and waited for my senses to awaken, tears dampening my cheeks.
A crash followed by shouting met my ears and my heart rate sped up. I forced sluggish muscles to work, wrenching myself into a sitting position and throwing my legs over the side of the bed. I lurched to my feet and stumbled towards the door. Each step woke me up that little bit more and by the time I reached the hallway I was running, breath coming in gasps.
I burst into the living room.
Chris stood with his back to the wall, one of the dining room chairs held up in front of him as Professor Michael Killian thrust a knife at his chest. One arm in a sling, Chris was still able to counter the Tr’lirian’s every move. Tall and with well-built frames, they were evenly matched, neither able to gain the upper hand. Killian lunged forward and Chris again swung the chair to block him. Then Killian disappeared.
I gasped. He must have slipped into the astral plane. Unlike Chris, I couldn’t see into it when in physical form. His eyes narrowed as he tracked the professor’s movements, then he pivoted at the hips and swung the chair around a scant second before Killian reappeared and thrust the knife at his chest.
I grabbed the first thing I could find, an empty glass off the dining table, and threw it at Killian. It hit his shoulder and he spun around to face me. Nostrils flaring, dark blue eyes locked on mine, he stalked towards me.
I clutched my necklace with one hand, and held the other out in front of me. ‘Drop the knife or I swear I’ll reap your soul.’ The necklace warmed beneath my hand as it sensed my intent.
Eyes narrowed, he stopped and let the knife drop to the floor. Behind him, Chris put down the chair and scooped up the knife. Then he moved to my side.
‘Are you okay?’ Chris leaned in close, blue eyes concerned.
I shook my head. ‘What the hell is going on here?’
‘Killian’s pissed we didn’t let Grimm kill us and came back to do the job himself.’
My eyes widened. Killian’s clan leader, Cade, had planned on using us to free his ancient enemy from Hell, or Demania as they called it, so he could kill him once and for all.
That was where Chris and I came in.
My necklace was the key that would open the doorway between the Underworld and Demania, while Chris was the bait to lure Almorthanos into the open, only we both had to be dead to play our parts.
‘You’re crazy if you think we’re going to let you kill us so you can get Almorthanos out of Demania.’
Killian smoothed down his dark brown hair and straightened his suit as he frowned at me. ‘I did not condemn myself to a mortal existence just to have you little brats ruin everything.’
I shook my head. ‘And you have no problem with killing innocent people just to get your way?’
‘Innocent.’ He snorted. ‘Please. You both have blood on your hands. ’
I flinched, the truth of his words hitting me like a slap across the face.
‘You can’t blame Tyler for reaping the souls of Wraiths who were trying to kill her,’ said Chris, ‘or for her half-brother. She did what she had to, to save lives.’
Andrew, my older half-brother, had been a serial killer, murdering women who looked like me. He’d shot Chris in the arm and shoulder and I’d been struggling with him, desperate to stop him from killing more people, when the gun he’d been holding went off. I may not have pulled the trigger, but guilt at his death still haunted me.
Killian’s full lips formed a sneer. ‘That may be so, but what about you? How many lives have you destroyed? Not including hers.’ He pointed at me.
Chris stepped forward. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I know exactly what I am talking about, but I see Tyler is unaware of the role you played in your previous life.’ Killian smirked at me. �
��Tell me, Tyler, was it worth it? Sacrificing your mother’s soul for the man responsible for her death?’
‘That’s enough.’ Chris grabbed Killian’s arm, knife aimed at his throat, and ushered him to the front door. ‘You’re leaving.’
A cold shiver swept over me as I scurried after them. ‘What are you talking about? My mother died in a car accident.’
Killian looked over his shoulder at me as Chris pushed him outside. ‘Ask him what really happened the day your mother died.’
Chris slammed the door shut, locking it with a snap. Then he grabbed the chair he’d used as a shield and carried it to the dining table, slotting it in its place. He put down the knife and picked up the glass I’d thrown at Killian.
‘I need a drink. Want one?’ He disappeared into the kitchen without waiting for my answer.
I followed him. ‘What was he talking about? What do you know about my mother’s accident?’ She’d died in a car crash when I was a baby, and Grimm had kept her soul to use against me twenty-five years later.
Chris kept his back to me as he poured a large measure of scotch into his glass. ‘Forget him. He was just trying to cause trouble. He’s pissed he gave up his wings for nothing. His big sacrifice is worthless if he can’t get Almorthanos out of Demania.’
While I didn’t doubt Killian was annoyed his plan had failed, the way Chris was avoiding my eyes set my pulse racing. ‘Look at me.’
His broad shoulders stiffened as he slowly turned, glass at his lips, eyes shadowed.
‘Tell me the truth. What did he mean?’ I wiped sweaty palms on my jeans before crossing my arms in front of me.
‘Tyler, please, you don’t want to know this.’
‘If you won’t tell me, I am out of here.’ I backed up, letting him know I meant what I said.
He set the glass on the bench and walked over to me, putting both hands on my shoulders. I pulled away, chilled by his bleak expression.
He sighed. ‘Why don’t we sit down?’
‘No. Tell me now.’
He gave another sigh. ‘I was walking home from the pub. My licence had been suspended six months earlier for drunk driving. I’d had too much to drink and could barely stand let alone walk a straight line. I ended up in the middle of the road and your mother had to swerve to avoid hitting me. That’s when she lost control of her car.’
I shook my head, nausea bubbling in the pit of my stomach. ‘Andrew said it was me, my crying that caused the accident.’
‘He was just a kid. I doubt he even saw me, and I was long gone before anyone else turned up.’
I covered my mouth with both hands, stifling the scream threatening to erupt.
‘Tyler, I am so sorry. I never meant for it to happen. I was going to turn myself in to the police when I realised someone had died, but never got the chance.’ He gave a rueful shrug. ‘I got my licence back the next day and, after too many celebratory drinks at a mate’s place, I lost control on a sharp bend and slammed into a lamp post. Then I wound up as Grimm’s newest recruit.’
I pulled my hands away from my mouth, letting them hang at my sides. ‘How long have you known it was my mother you killed?’
‘I recognised your name from the news reports. I wanted to tell you, but there was so much going on; hiding from Grimm and being Lockwood’s number one suspect. It never seemed like the right time.’ He grabbed my hand and held tight. ‘I tried to make it right. Told you I would give my life to free Grace, was willing to hand myself over to Grimm to save her soul, but you wouldn’t let me.’
I tugged on my hand but he refused to release it.
‘I meant it then, and I mean it now. If we can’t find any other way to free her I will turn myself over to Grimm. I’ll do it right now if that’s what you want, just please stop looking at me like that.’
I closed my eyes, conscious of the heat of him, of the strength in his large hand. I retched, sickened to think of his hands touching me. Thank God I’d never given in to his attempts to get me into bed, bad enough I’d let him kiss me, hold me.
He let me go and I stumbled to the sink, barely making it in time to empty my stomach. He reached over me to turn on the tap and I cupped my hands to bring water to my lips, desperate to wash away the taste of bile and betrayal. I gulped down water and then rested my head on the cool granite bench top. Chris rubbed my back and I pulled away.
‘Don’t touch me.’ I wiped a dripping hand across my mouth, eyes wide.
‘Tyler, tell me, how can I make this right?’
I bit off a scream. Nothing could make this right. I had sacrificed my mother’s soul for him, for the man who had killed her.
I raced to my room, grabbed my bag and threw my belongings into it. I zipped it up and headed for the door.
Chris blocked my way. ‘Can we please talk about this?’
‘There is nothing to talk about.’ I brushed my long fringe out of my eyes and glared at him. ‘You lied to me, you knew who I was all along, and you never said anything. How could you do that to me?’
‘I was wrong, I see that, but I was so scared of losing you.’
I shook my head. ‘You never had me to lose. And you never will. I don’t want to see you ever again.’ I pushed passed him and strode to the front door, refusing to look back as I wrenched it open. Tears blinded me as I stabbed the call button for the elevator.
Inside, with the doors safely shut, I wiped my eyes with the back of one hand. The elevator doors opened and I hurried through the foyer. In the visitor car park, I located my Corolla and tossed my bag on the passenger seat. I drove all the way home trying to block out the last image I had of my mother, being dragged back to the Underworld, terror in her eyes.
There had to be another way to free her soul from Grimm.
I just had to find it.
2
I pulled into the driveway of my flat and got out of the car. I was almost at the front door when a figure stepped into view, shrouded by shadows.
I dropped my bag, ready to run. No-one with good intentions would be waiting on my doorstep after midnight on a Thursday.
Then …
‘What the hell?’ I took a step forward.
‘Hello, Tyler. My name is Emily, and I’m really sorry to just show up like this, with no warning, but I think I might be your cousin.’
I opened my mouth, too shocked to form words. She looked just like me. Same heart shaped face, caramel skin and long black hair, though she had a blunt fringe. Even the curve of her mouth mirrored mine and her brown eyes, currently filled with hope, were eerily familiar. We could have been identical twins, let alone cousins.
I swallowed heavily. The uncanny resemblance meant she had to be a descendant of Malia, Almorthanos’s sister, like me. ‘Wow, yeah, from the looks of us, you could be right, Emily.’
Her face lit up and she bounced on the balls of her feet.
‘Oh my God, I am so excited to meet you. I have been waiting here for hours, wondering what I would say to you and what you would say to me and if you would believe me or not, and here you are, and you do, and this is the most exciting thing to ever happen to me.’ She clapped both hands to her cheeks.
I laughed, I couldn’t help myself. With the week I’d had, and the night I’d just endured, it was a change to be around someone who was genuinely pleased to see me.
‘How did you even find me?’
‘I saw your picture on the news and it blew me away, I thought I was looking at a picture of myself, but the reporter said you were Tyler Morgan, from Easton, and that your half-brother was a serial killer who killed your best friend and tried to kill you too, and I was like, whoa, that is so scary.’
I stiffened and her face fell. ‘I am so sorry, I’m such an idiot. You lived it, you don’t need to hear some stranger talking about it, even though we are cousins and ...’
I put up a hand and she thankfully stopped talking. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I would have to get used to the notoriety that came with bei
ng in the news. ‘Why don’t we go inside, and you can tell me why you think we are cousins.’
She nodded and moved aside so I could unlock the door. I switched on the living room light as she scooped up a suitcase and followed me inside.
She set her suitcase by the door before taking a seat on the couch, crossing her legs at the ankles and holding her clasped hands between her knees. She looked like a chastened school girl even though I guessed she was close to my age.
I sat beside her. ‘So, Emily, where did you come from and how did you figure out we were cousins?’
‘Well, to be honest, at first I thought we were twins, we look so much alike, but the reporter said you were twenty-five and I’m only twenty-three, so that ruled that out. But then I started to wonder if maybe one of us, or even both of us, had been adopted, and we were sisters at least. So I went to my parents, sure they had been lying to me all my life. And they had, but not the way I’d been thinking. It was my father who’d been adopted.’ She gulped in air.
‘Dad said Grandma and Grandad Wilson adopted him when he was five. Of course, I wanted to know why no one ever told me, though it explained why I didn’t look anything like my cousins on the Wilson side. Not that I look like the cousins on my mother’s side either. I’ve always been the odd one out, until now.’ She gave me a quick grin.
‘My mother was adopted,’ I said, voice quiet. It hurt to talk about her so soon after Chris’s revelation. ‘She died when I was a baby.’
‘Which is great. Not that she’s dead. I mean that she was adopted too, because it means you are most definitely probably my cousin because my dad said he had a baby sister who was adopted into a different family. But he didn’t know who took her, and never tried to find out. Which I thought was weird, I mean, if you were adopted and knew you had a biological sister somewhere, wouldn’t you want to find her? But he said the Wilsons were his family and he didn’t need another one.’
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