Ghost Market (Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. Book 6)

by Angela Roquet

  "Charming and hilarious...

  Sookie and Betsy have some competition!"

  —MaryJanice Davidson, New York Times

  and USA Today Best-Selling Author

  “The emotional energy was just amazing. Keep those books coming, Ms. Roquet!”

  —Kory M. Shrum, author of the Dying for a Living series

  “Roquet’s style is entertaining, and her fast-paced plots keep readers glued to the page.”

  —Monica La Porta, author of the Ginecean Chronicles

  "Darkly comic and wildly imaginative. Angela Roquet gives us an afterlife we've never seen before."

  —Kimberly Frost, best-selling author of The Southern Witch Series

  "Pocket Full of Posies has just enough laughs, lots of mystery, tons of action, some great romance, a cast you can't help but love, and a story that never lets you rest!"

  —Literal Addiction

  “Graveyard Shift is an impressive feat of imagination built on a broad knowledge of world religion. It's also great fun! No small accomplishment.”

  —Christine Wicker, best-selling author of Not in Kansas Anymore

  "Graveyard Shift is sacrilicious. Roquet's first book in the Reapers Inc. series will be a huge hit with fans of authors like J.K. Rowling and Neil Gaiman. I look forward to getting my hands on the rest of the series."

  —Lance Carbuncle, author of Grundish and Askew

  by Angela Roquet

  Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc.

  Graveyard Shift

  Pocket Full of Posies

  For the Birds

  Psychopomp

  Death Wish

  Ghost Market

  Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. short stories

  Dearly Departed (featured in: Off the Beaten Path)

  Hair of the Hellhound (featured in: Badass and the Beast)

  Season’s Reapings (a holiday short story standalone)

  other titles

  Crazy Ex-Ghoulfriend

  Backwoods Armageddon

  Blood Moon

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  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

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  LANA HARVEY, REAPERS INC. BOOK 6

  Angela Roquet

  Copyright © 2016 Angela Roquet

  Distributed by Smashwords

  All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

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

  For Paul. Again.

  I know a lot of authors who dedicate their books to the same person over and over. Through the years, I’ve tried to spread the love around. I’m breaking habit and dedicating this one to my husband again. He deserves it, and so much more, for taking care of our son, our home, and me, day in and day out. None of what I do would be possible without his support, encouragement, and crazy good love.

  ♥

  Chapter 1

  “A vacation is what you take when you can no longer take what you’ve been taking.” —Earl Wilson

  A warm, furry body nuzzled under my arm, and the smell of wet dog assaulted me as I woke. Saul licked my ear, his muzzle grazing my cheek when the houseboat rocked, and even though I groaned in protest, a smile curled up one corner of my mouth. I rubbed my face dry on the wool blanket.

  Beelzebub’s muffled singing drifted down from the upper deck, accompanied by a gurgling hiss, and a moment later I smelled espresso. It motivated me to finally crack my eyes open. I blinked a few times, adjusting to the light that spilled past the gauzy curtains hanging over the small window of the lower cabin.

  Saul’s tail wagged and his tongue slipped out for another kiss, but I pushed him away.

  “I’m up. Okay? See?” I rolled off the bed, taking the blanket with me and accidentally knocking my hound to the floor. He jumped to his feet with a yap and raced up the cabin stairs to the main deck.

  I followed him, emerging to find Bub standing stark naked at the helm, a cup of steaming coffee in hand. Scars wrapped around his left calf in a marbled pattern, but the round smoothness of his ass was unmarred. His black hair ran past the nape of his neck, grazing the tops of his shoulders, and I grinned at the faint lines my fingernails had left there the night before.

  The morning sky was bright orange, streaked through with wispy gray clouds. They reflected across the muddy waters of the Styx and repeated into the distance, hiding the peaks of the mountains that served as the backdrop of Bub’s Tartarus property. The crew of trolls he’d hired to rebuild his summer home had almost finished with the stonework, and our afternoon plans included taking a peek at the progress.

  Bub turned to greet me as I walked across the deck, letting his steering hand slip from the wheel to wrap around my waist. He pulled our hips together, leaving only the thin blanket between us.

  “Good morning, my love, my dark queen of the night, my—”

  “Drinker of coffee,” I injected, nodding at the cup in his hand.

  Bub snorted and tilted it to my lips. I closed my eyes and took a long drink, moaning my thanks. When I’d had my fill, he pulled the cup back to his own mouth slowly, darting his forked tongue out to lick a smear of coffee from the side I’d drank from. The gold flecks in his eyes swirled with lust. It was a look I knew all too well.

  The wool blanket slipped from my naked shoulder, sending a shiver through me. Bub dropped the coffee mug to the deck floor and ran his hand through my tangled curls, dragging my face to his. Our mouths met savagely, tongues and teeth taking purchase wherever they could. Bub’s other hand left my hip to claw at the hem of the blanket, tugging it down the length of my back until it fell to my feet.

  I laced my fingers behind his neck and pulled him in closer. My breasts flattened against his chest, aching blissfully as his hands groped my body. I was dizzy with need and ready to take him right there at the helm. So when a throat cleared at the opposite end of the deck, all I could manage was a visceral growl.

  Saul let out a startled yap, and Bub jerked away from me, nearly losing his balance as he turned to face the unwelcome arrival. A small cluster of flies swarmed around his head, as if he were on the verge of dispersing to attack.

  Our guest, an armor-clad member of the Nephilim Guard, stood at attention with his spear crossed over his breastplate. I couldn’t tell if the wideness of his eyes was more out of fear or embarrassment.

  “Greetings and apologies, Captain Harvey. I am here to deliver an urgent message from President F
ang. She requires your advisement on a sensitive matter. You are to report to her at Afterlife Council Headquarters at once.” The guard finished with a stiff bow and took flight, fleeing the houseboat as suddenly as he’d arrived.

  “A sensitive matter?” Bub’s lips pursed thoughtfully.

  I scoffed. “President Fang? This promotion is going to her head.” I nuzzled against Bub, but he leaned away to look down at me.

  “We should probably head back to the city,” he said. I gave him a sour look as he kissed the tip of my nose. “We’ll pick up where we left off tonight—provided the world isn’t coming to an end.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

  My feet tripped over the abandoned wool blanket, and I stooped to pick it up, yelping when Bub’s hand squeezed my backside.

  “A little forget-me-not,” he said with a chuckle.

  I tossed my hair back and cocked an eyebrow at him as I headed for the cabin stairs.

  Jenni had better be up to her eyeballs in some hellish wrath, otherwise she’d be getting an earful. At the same time, I really hoped that hellish wrath had a quick and easy solution. This vacation was going too well to be cut short.

  Chapter 2

  “If I had my choice I would kill every reporter in the world, but I am sure we would be getting reports from Hell before breakfast.” —William Tecumseh Sherman

  The rest of the ride down the Styx was depressing. After I put on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, I took Bub’s place at the wheel so he could dress too. I hadn’t packed anything business casual, but Jenni’s message seemed urgent, so I wouldn’t be making time to run home and change.

  My agitation grew as Bub tied up the houseboat near the gates of Hell, and by the time we coined off on our separate ways, I was drowning in a stew of anxious irritation. Seriously, what was so damned important that it couldn’t have waited until Monday?

  Limbo City’s restricted coin travel landed all incoming traffic on the main dock pier at the harbor. It was quiet when I arrived, which I expected with most reapers off harvesting at this time of day. What did surprise me was the abandoned market area. It was Saturday morning. The Three Fates Factory employees were off work and should have been swarming the place.

  Abe, the nephilim guarding the dock entrance, nodded stiffly as Saul and I passed by. He hadn’t spared me much more than that since last fall, when I gave him the slip while he was supposed to be babysitting me for Grim. I didn’t hold it against him, but I still gave him a wide berth, remembering the time Loki had tricked me by taking on the guard’s face.

  From the sidewalk beyond the dock, I noticed half the tented booths down Market Street were closed, their tables tucked inside and curtains drawn. A warm breeze pushed a paper coffee cup across the asphalt until it found the gutter, joining an assortment of crumpled receipts, candy wrappers, and cigarette butts. Saul lifted his nose to sniff the air and whimpered softly.

  On the opposite side of the street, a yellow taxi was parked along the curb. I caught a glimpse of Skipper, the troll who owned the only cab business in Limbo, cramming an entire donut in his mouth.

  The travel booths were faster and cheaper, so Skipper’s business had taken a beating after the big transition. The nephilim driver he’d employed had joined the guard, and his tree spirit cabbie had to take on a second job waiting tables at the Phantom Café.

  I tapped on the window, giving Skipper a start. He swallowed hard as he pushed the button to unlock the back door.

  “Didn’t see you there,” he said, rubbing his sleeve across his wide face. His voice was rough and soft at the same time, and it never failed to remind me of Batman.

  “Got time for a fare to Reapers Inc.?” I asked, sliding across the back seat. Saul hopped in next to me, taking care to keep his clawed toes from injuring the upholstery.

  “Kid, I got nothin’ but time,” Skipper said. He pushed a beefy finger down on the meter button and glanced at his side mirrors before pulling away from the curb.

  As we turned left onto Morte Avenue, I realized the market wasn’t the only part of the city suffering a lack of activity. Half the store windows were dark, even Purgatory Lounge, which was usually open by now for the early lunch crowd. I spotted a minor Roman god and a nephilim as they exited Bank of Eternity, but that was it.

  “Did I overlook a big holiday, Skip?” I pressed my face against the window as we passed Destiny Avenue, trying to catch a glimpse of the city park, where the souls gathered to celebrate on occasion.

  “I don’t think so.” Skipper sighed and handed me a magazine over his shoulder. It was the newest edition of Limbo’s Laundry, the gossip rag that had shit on my name more times than I cared to count.

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who reads trash talk.” I made eye contact with Skipper in his rearview mirror and frowned at him.

  He shrugged. “Limbo Weekly won’t be out until Wednesday, and The Reaper Report didn’t say much about it.”

  “About what?”

  “The soul scare,” he said, turning right on Ghost Alley.

  I looked down at the magazine and crinkled my nose in disgust. The lead story was about the new soul organization, the Apparition Agency, headed up by Naledi, the soul on the Throne of Eternity. Bold text read: Have the inmates taken over the asylum?

  Several of the Afterlife Council subcommittees weren’t fully on board with the new addition, and with Grim MIA and Jenni Fang having only just filled his shoes, the power struggle was getting intense. I was more than happy to pass when the reins were held in my direction, and I felt better about that decision every day.

  Next to the tacky cover story, a sidebar of smaller photos and captions caught my attention. Gabriel and Amy’s on-again, off-again romance was showcased between a speculation piece on whether or not Seth was alive and an article about several souls going missing in the past week. Folks didn’t read Limbo’s Laundry for their ability to prioritize important issues.

  I flipped the magazine open to the directory and found the listing for the soul article. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to see that it only warranted a single page. They’d even squeezed in an ad for overpriced protection amulets that readers could order directly from the magazine, of course.

  I rolled my eyes and skimmed the article, looking for the bits that weren’t just sensational fluff. A “noticeable spike in CNH souls” could mean anything from two to two hundred, so I refused to let the vague comment concern me just yet, though I was bothered by the mention of three factory souls disappearing.

  Souls in the city didn’t just disappear. The travel restrictions made that impossible. Unless they somehow slipped past the guards at the harbor and boarded a boat, they had to be somewhere in the city. The article went on to propose that they had grown sick of factory work and run away, refusing to fulfil the century term of their contracts with the Fates. It was a believable enough scenario, until I recognized one of the names.

  Ruth Summerdale. I’d harvested her soul back in the early twenties. She had five, maybe six years left on her contract. That was nothing. There was no way she’d jump ship. Not this close to retirement and on the verge of a celebrity rebirth.

  My brow furrowed as I read the rest of the article. Souls being nabbed from both sides of the grave, and no one knowing how or why, had everyone in a panic. No wonder they were staying out of sight.

  “Here we are, girl.” Skipper parked the car in front of Reapers Inc. and turned back to face me. “That’ll be eight big ones.”

  I gave him a coin with ten marks left on it and told him to keep the change. Then I stepped out onto the vacant sidewalk with Saul close on my heels.

  The damage Reapers Inc. had suffered in the zombie soul stampede last fall was still under repair. Scaffolding hung from the skyscraper in several places, and a few of the windows with more serious cracks had been taped off, awaiting replacement.

  I pushed through the front doors, wanting to get the meeting over and done with as quickly as possible. I
t was probably delusional to think Bub and I would make it back to the houseboat in time for dinner, but a quiet night at home didn’t sound half bad.

  Saul found a corner in the downstairs lobby and circled it a few times, giving it a good sniff before lying down. He rested his muzzle across his paws and yawned. It was our new routine whenever I had to stop at the office. He wasn’t fond of the elevators, and Jenni threw an even bigger fit than Grim whenever I brought the hounds to work with me—especially after Coreen’s helljack puppies chewed a leg off one of our dining room chairs. Something about all the antique furniture at Reapers Inc. amped up Jenni’s canine prejudice.

  I took an elevator up to the seventy-third floor, the Afterlife Council Headquarters, and Maalik met me as I stepped into the fancy hallway that led to the meeting rooms. His gray wings bunched up behind his shoulders. I’d seen them do that enough to know that he was unpleasantly surprised by my presence.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said in a hushed voice, taking my arm and steering me into a less visible corner of the foyer.

  “Ow. Do you mind?” I jerked my arm free and glared at him.

  “Why do you always seem to show up at the worst possible times?” Maalik pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. His dark hair was unruly, and his robe was spotted with coffee, but at least he didn’t smell. Adjusting to the life of a councilman was a gritty process—especially for the upstanding sort like him.

  “I was summoned by President Fang,” I said, rolling my eyes. “So if you’ve got a problem with me being here, take it up with her.”