Reaper

by Lena North

  Reaper

  Lena North

  Copyright © 2018 by Lena North

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Cover design: Copyright © 2018 by FAB Publishing.

  Illustrations on cover: Copyright © 2018 by Lena North

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents 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.

  Discover other titles by Lena North:

  Birds of a Feather series:

  Wilder

  Sweet Water

  Picture This

  Black Snow

  The Dreughan series:

  Courage

  Reason

  Joy

  47 Sweet Street

  Bitter Sweet Street

  Sissa Raudulfsdatter:

  Runes of Fate

  My thanks

  As always, to my family.

  Prologue

  I hid in the shadows, protecting the group. When they needed it, I helped, and when I judged it safe, I interfered. Shielding and aiding a man and his friends, and perhaps protecting myself at the same time. I had too many secrets. Too much to lose.

  After weeks of preparations, they finally got ready to fight, and I watched them. The scout had been there for a while with her sharp-eyed man, and their voices were muted when they shared what they'd found. Both the leader and his daughter suddenly seemed to sense me and raised their heads to search the alley with pale amber eyes, but I was there through the eyes of another, and we stilled.

  Soft steps announced the arrival of a tall man, and I recognized him immediately. The genius’ man, carrying his heritage from the kings of our past like a cloak, regal and proud with his long golden hair held back at the nape of his neck. His gray eyes sliced through the shadows like a razor-sharp knife and I pulled back from his gaze until he turned with a shrug.

  When the last one finally rolled in on a low, black cruiser, my breath hitched as if it stumbled a little on its way down my throat. His long coat was black as the night. As black as his eyes and the marks on his neck.

  The man was a warrior, a killer, all strength and composure as he approached the others with a confident stride. In a whisper-soft rustle, his bird swept down from above to rest on the arm he had raised, and their eyes met in perfect accord.

  The Reaper had come.

  His mother was there and they nodded slowly although no words were spoken. I saw her slide a small hand over his arm, though, and his smile in return.

  The group stayed silent as final preparations were made. It was unusual to find them all gathered like this, and I thought back on the last time I'd seen it. The Reaper had been there then too, fighting the men who had held the girl in the basement. I’d searched day and night just as they did, and found her, a little by chance but mostly by skill and determination. Word had been passed to the group and they’d gotten her out of there, bruised and battered, but alive.

  “Let’s go,” the yellow-eyed man grunted, and they spread out.

  I followed them into the building, hoping they had what they needed to succeed. Worrying that I'd not done enough for them. Wondering if I could have done more.

  An ambush awaited in the huge open factory, but they knew in advance that it would, and pressed on even as shots were fired.

  “Find him!” the leader called out, and they spread out yet again.

  I knew who they wanted, and hoped from the bottom of my heart that they'd kill him. Cameron Strachlan. Abuse victim. Murderer. Lost boy. The devil.

  From nowhere, a loud explosion resounded and a small woman was thrown from her spot on a walkway. She hit the wall with a sickening thud, and the whole world stopped breathing for a second.

  Then the man in the black coat started running.

  One glance at his mother crumpled on the floor in a corner, and then a roar vibrated in the air. I’d never heard anything like it before, and I never want to, not ever again. It was the pure, undiluted sound of pain.

  He got up and I saw how his eyes had gone blank. They were dark, bottomless pools of madness and fury, filled to the brim with destruction.

  There was a blade in each of his hands when he started walking, and the others didn't hold him back like they usually did. They followed him into the battle with their own weapons raised. Flanking him, and shielding him. Helping him.

  I’d seen him fight before, but not like that night. He wielded his knives with all the skill he possessed, and the echoing screams contrasted with the complete silence of the Reaper dispatching vengeance for his mother. Then the bees came to their aid, flushing out men from nooks where they hid. Dragonflies swarmed through the building in their wake, and the birds came from everywhere, screeching and clawing.

  When it was over, he went back to his Ma. On his knees, with his hand on her cheek, he murmured a final soft sentence. A final goodbye.

  Then he walked away, and his face was completely void of emotions, but there were tears on his cheeks. His cousin ran after him, only to get brushed off with a hoarse whisper.

  “I have to tell Da.”

  When the roar of his bike had faded, I started weeping, silently and helplessly.

  The Reaper had left again, beaten and grieving.

  And I loved him.

  The time to step out of the shadows had come.

  Chapter One

  Arriving

  “Shit,” I muttered, knowing he wouldn’t hear me over the roar of my bike.

  He wasn’t supposed to be at Double H.

  “Andrew Farnham’s office?” I called out and tipped my chin up when he used a hand to indicate I’d find the ranch manager in a low building to the side.

  Rolling past him, I kept my eyes firmly on anything but him until I stood in front of a dark blue door with my hand raised to knock on it. “Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look,” I mumbled soundlessly.

  “He’s not there.”

  I gave up a startled squeal when he spoke right behind me. He was big but there still hadn’t been a sound when he walked up to me, although I might have been too busy ignoring him to hear it.

  “Annie Walker?”

  I turned slowly and looked at the long sleeved, dark gray henley stretching out in front of me.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Huh,” he grunted. “I’ll show you the room.”

  I blinked slowly.

  “But,” I said, and closed my mouth again.

  There was a long, embarrassing silence and I could have kicked myself. I was acting like a moron, and I wasn’t one. At least, I tried really hard to not be one. I hadn’t been prepared to meet him, though. I’d been so sure he’d be in Norton with his da, or perhaps in Marshes with his cousin. What the hell was he doing at Double H?

  “You coming?”

  He didn’t sound angry, but his voice wasn’t happy or welcoming either. He sounded emotionless, or perhaps a little bit bored. I sucked in air, forced myself to focus, and raised my eyes, only to chicken out and keep my gaze on the top button of his shirt. It was open, and I could see a few strands of chest hair.

  “Absolutely,” I said, tried to smile and stretched out my hand. “I’m Annie.”

  “Yeah,” he said and turned to walk away.

  I stared at my hand and then on his back.

  “Well, that was rude,” I mumbled.

  My voice had been quiet, but he heard and turned slowly until our eyes met for the first time. I’d wa
ited eagerly for this moment, dreaming up all kinds of scenarios for how it would be, and nothing was the way I’d imagined. His eyes were supposed to be kind, and soft. I’d expected them to be the comforting color of sweet chocolate, but they were almost as black as the tattoos on his neck, and I knew I was looking straight into the eyes of the Reaper.

  It felt as if my gut did a free fall and I swallowed nervously.

  “What?” he asked.

  I straightened my back and forced myself to look calmly at him.

  “I’m here for an interview with Andrew Farnham, and you are clearly not him. I don’t know who you are so I’m not going with you to some room somewhere.”

  His brows went up and his shoulders moved a little with a sigh as if I was nothing but a nuisance.

  “You worked for Morgan,” he stated, not putting it as a question and since I’d put that on my application for the job as a stable hand, there wasn’t any need.

  “Yes,” I answered anyway.

  “You’re still alive. No interview needed.”

  There wasn't a hint of humor on his blank face, but I almost laughed anyway. I knew about the reputation Gideon Morgan had, and how it in many ways was extraordinarily well deserved. Most people called him a dictator, a slave driver, or simply a jackass, and I did too sometimes, although most of the time I just called him grandfather.

  The man in front of me tilted his head a little to the side, narrowing his eyes as if he’d seen a hint of my reaction.

  “I’m Olly,” he said, finally. “Andy pulled his shoulder, asked me to show the room. He’s back in an hour.”

  Okay. Several sentences, that was better. I forced my mouth into a smile and walked over to where he was waiting.

  “I’m Annie,” I said.

  “You told me,” he said and started walking. I was about to tell him again just how rude I thought he was when he turned his head and muttered, “Several times.”

  Our eyes met for a split second, and there was suddenly a faint flicker of humor in his.

  “Okay then,” I sighed, and followed him toward a big barn-like building.

  The sliding door was huge and heavy, and he looked at me when I struggled to close it behind us.

  “There’s another door in the back. Might work better for you.”

  I nodded slowly as I looked around at what I knew was their training facility. There was something which looked like a boxing ring in the center, various kinds of equipment, mats and other training paraphernalia to one side and on the other, there were couches and some comfy chairs. On each side of the room, stairs were leading up to lofts, partially walled off but not completely enclosed.

  “Yours is up there,” he muttered. “I’m on the other side.”

  I turned my back toward him and worked frantically to remain calm. We’d share a house?

  “Everyone trains down here,” he said and I turned back with a small, polite smile firmly pasted on my lips. “Mostly daytime, though.”

  “I don’t work out a lot,” I said, mostly to have something to say.

  His eyes slid over me, briefly, and then he muttered, “Obviously.”

  My breath caught in my throat, and I turned toward the stairs he’d indicated.

  “I’ll just go and…”

  My eyes burned and I blinked furiously but my voice was calm and I kept my back straight. I knew I wasn’t slim or super fit, and had neither genetics nor ambitions to be either. I’d been chubby as a child but I'd lost weight when I hit puberty, so I wasn't fat, and I both skied and hiked which kept me in reasonably good shape. I didn't mind, and I hated working out, so I'd never cared about the few extra pounds around my hips or how skinny my arms were. Not until that moment.

  He muttered something that I ignored entirely, and walked into the loft studio which apparently would be my home for a while.

  “Crap,” I breathed as I sat down on the bed.

  A low buzzing sound approached and one of my friends came through a small window that was slightly ajar. The beautiful dragonfly swept through the room and let its wings caress my cheek.

  “Annie…” it crooned. “Beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  I knew the group from Norton could hold silent conversations in their minds with their birds, but it didn’t work like that at all with my tiny friends. I heard them in my mind, although it was mostly just single words, and they understood me, but I had to speak out loud. I could see what they saw when I wanted it, and hear what they heard, and I used those abilities when I needed them.

  “Reaper.”

  That single word echoed through my head and I sighed again.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  When I walked down to get my saddlebags a stunningly beautiful man waited for me. I recognized him immediately as Falk Mackenzie, one of the men from Norton. Wilder Johns' boyfriend. It felt strange to know who everyone was when I'd never met any of them, but I pushed my uneasiness back and walked up to him.

  “Hello,” I said and stretched my hand out. “I’m Annie Walker.”

  “Hey, Annie, I’m Mac,” he said as he shook my hand. “I’m the vet here.”

  I glanced around and he understood who I was looking for immediately.

  “Olly is leaving, so I’ll show you around instead,” he said as he shuffled us toward the sliding door.

  “Okay,” I said quietly.

  I was relieved Olly was leaving and unhappy about how he’d treated me, but I would have wanted to see him one more time.

  “Was he rude?” Mac asked casually, clearly sensing something was off.

  “Yeah.”

  He slowed down and turned to me.

  “Just ignore it. He’s a good guy, but he has some personal shit going on.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Olly was by his bike outside the main ranch house and our eyes met. I wanted to look away and cursed myself for holding his gaze but I couldn’t do anything else. He was big and strong. A lethal warrior. He had family and friends surrounding him but the loneliness in his eyes made my belly clench, and I wished there was something I could do. Investigating and finding his mother’s killer was suddenly not enough. I’d thought I knew what love was, but nothing had prepared me for that fierce feeling of protectiveness, or the warmth running through my heart as our eyes locked.

  I wanted to hold him.

  Of their own accord, my lips curved into a small smile and it made his face soften, although it was so subtle it might have been purely in my imagination. He nodded, once, and leaned down to fiddle with his bags.

  “Hey!” a tall girl with white blonde hair called out.

  Wilder Johns passed Olly, squeezed his shoulder and murmured something to him, but she kept walking until she reached us.

  “I’m Wilder,” she said.

  “Annie,” I murmured.

  “Aha, you’re the one who survived Gid Morgan. Welcome to Double H.”

  She watched me curiously as if she expected me to say something but I didn’t oblige her and just calmly met her gaze.

  “You met Andy?” she asked.

  “No.”

  There was another silence and then she nodded and asked Mac, “You’re showing her around?”

  He murmured a confirmation that he would, but he sounded preoccupied and aimed a concerned glance at Olly. “He’s coming back?” he asked quietly.

  “Not sure,” Wilder said. “He’s heading home.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  They were clearly worried about their friend, and I felt awkward, but also a little annoyed with them. They shouldn’t stand there and talk about him in front of me.

  “When will Mr. Farnham be back?” I asked. My voice was a little forced, and I made an effort to relax. “I thought I was here for an interview.”

  “Andy will be here tonight. Come, let’s take a look at our stables,” Mac said resolutely, ignoring my question abou
t the interview and indicating with his hand where we were supposed to go.

  I followed him, struggling to keep my head from turning back. Wilder had said that Olly was heading home, which I assumed meant Norton and his father’s house, and I hoped he would stay there for a while.

  I knew all of them, in a way, and had investigated the members even more thoroughly when I decided it was time to contact the group. I wanted access to what they knew so I could combine it with my own findings, and run even more complex queries. There had to be a pattern, and with more information, I’d find it. I hoped.

  My first step was to make sure I could trust them, though. Wilder and Mac would be the easiest for me to get close to, so there I was, moving into a loft in a barn at Double H, and feeling a little bit like a fraud. Once I knew they were safe, I’d tell them selected parts of who I was, and share some of the work I’d done. If that went well, I could share the rest with them and see how they reacted. I'd decided it would be best to not involve all of them, and most certainly not Olly.

  The bike roared behind us and I tried to convince myself the feeling in my chest was relief that he was gone, but I wasn’t very successful.

  ***

  Wilder was tough, curt and impatient but a few weeks later I was pretty sure she could be trusted. She was just like my brothers in so many ways and the way she made sure everyone at the ranch felt like they were a part of her family was surprisingly sweet. Mac was easy going and intelligent, and together they made a formidable couple. There weren’t any reasons for me to not trust them but I’d found one excuse after another to remain silent. It wasn’t that I was scared, I told myself. It totally was, though, so I decided it was time to stop stalling and talk to them.

  I was on my way to the main house when a car passed me and a tall, gorgeous girl climbed out the second it stopped. Wilder came through the front door immediately, calling out her welcome to Olly’s cousin in a loud and happy voice. I watched the man still in the driver seat. The outline of his dreads was the only thing visible and he seemed to be doing something with his phone. It didn't matter, though. I knew who it was. Domenico, Snow's boyfriend. Sharp-eyed and dangerous. I didn't want to meet them so I started to turn, hoping Wilder wouldn’t have seen I was on my way over.