by Pamela Labud
REAPING THE IMMORTAL
A Nocturne Falls Universe Novel
By
Pamela Labud
Dear Reader,
Nocturne Falls has become a magical place for so many people, myself included. Over and over I’ve heard from you that it’s a town you’d love to visit and even live in! I can tell you that writing the books is just as much fun for me.
With your enthusiasm for the series in mind – and your many requests for more books – the Nocturne Falls Universe was born. It’s a project near and dear to my heart, and one I am very excited about. I hope these new, guest-authored books will entertain and delight you. And best of all, I hope they allow you to discover some great new authors! (And if you like this book, be sure to check out the rest of the Nocturne Falls Universe offerings.)
For more information about the Nocturne Falls Universe, visit http://kristenpainter.com/sugar-skull-books/
In the meantime, happy reading!
Kristen Painter
REAPING THE IMMORTAL
A Nocturne Falls Universe Story
Copyright © 2017 by Pamela Labud
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction and was made possible by a special agreement with Sugar Skull Books, but hasn’t been reviewed or edited by Kristen Painter. All characters, events, scenes, plots and associated elements appearing in the original Nocturne Falls series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kristen Painter, Sugar Skull Books and their affiliates or licensors.
Any similarity to real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or Sugar Skull Books.
Published in the United States of America.
CHAPTER ONE
"What do you mean, I don't have a room?"
Holly Dent, member of the Fifth Guild of Reapers, stood in front of the registration desk of the Nocturne Falls Woodwynds Inn. Wearing her full Reaper regalia of a black hooded robe and sensible shoes, clutching her ceremonial death scythe in one hand. Her familiar, Artemis — a snow white cockatiel shifter — and her bird cage in the other, Holly knew she must have been a frightening sight.
The only things she wanted was a hot meal and a soft bed. By the looks of it, that wouldn't be forthcoming for quite a while.
The cockatiel hissed in echoed frustration.
It had been a long, cross country train ride. Though they'd had a sleeping compartment, it had been narrow, the mattress hard, and it all reeked of mildew. Oh, yeah, only the best for government workers, right?
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I just don't see your reservation," the desk clerk, a short, wispy-haired wood sprite said. Perched on the top of a two-step ladder, he squinted down at the computer screen.
"That's not possible. The Guild always makes the arrangements."
"And we know they never make mistakes," Artemis grumbled beside her. "Except for that time in Albuquerque, or again in Lincoln, or Chicago..."
"Bird, please," Holly hissed. She turned her attention back to the desk clerk. "It's all here. My name is Holly Dent and I've got a room reserved through next week, though hopefully, I won't be here more than a few days," she said. "I'm a Reaper, sent by the High Council. You can see that my documents are in order." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the glowing stone.
"Hmm," he said. "I believe there is an error here."
"An error? What kind of error?"
Didn't anybody tell this guy not to mention such things in front of a Reaper? Holly's frustrations manifested in dark clouds that had started to gather overhead. Her mood affecting the weather was just a side benefit. It added to the air of mystique that helped her when dealing with the public.
"It appears that your council's secretary tried to book the room and we informed them that because of annual Black and Orange Ball, we're full and will be booked solid for the next forty-three years."
"You're kidding me."
"It's a very popular holiday around here. Perhaps you could try again in a decade or so?"
Holly leaned closer, standing to her full five-foot-five-inch height.
"Listen to me, you little gremlin..."
"Wood sprite," he said, leaning forward so that they were nearly nose to nose.
"Whatever. The High Council sent me here and here I will be staying. So, you better find me a room." Thunder rumbled around them.
"Okay. What will it be? Vampire, werewolf, gargoyle, witch, warlock, demon, Shinigami, or any number of assorted deities..."
"What are you talking about."
"Just checking to see which one you'd prefer bunking with, because if you plan to stay here, you're going to be sharing a bed. Oh, and I'd watch out for the Shinigami, I hear they tend to bite."
"Great. I get it. There’s no room. What am I supposed to do now?"
"Beats me, Reaper. Every Inn, hotel, hostel, motor lodge and kennel is full up. Like I said. Very popular holiday."
Furious, Holly crossed her arms and tapped her foot, trying to figure out where she was going to go for the night. "What about the nearest town? Anything reasonably close?"
"The entire region is filled. You can always try knocking on doors."
"And scare half the town into an early grave?" She motioned to her attire. "The Council can barely keep up with the incoming expirations as it is."
He shrugged. "There’s the old Hyland place."
A tiny, almost molecular ray of hope seeped into her soul. "Do they take visitors?"
"You could say that," he chuckled. "It's a funeral home. Got all sorts of space. It's six blocks south on the right. Big scary house. You can't miss it." He handed her back her documentation. "Maximillian Hyland is the Funeral Director. Tell him Woody sent you."
Holly stared at him open mouthed for a few seconds.
"What?" He drew back.
"Woody, the wood sprite? Really?"
He let out an indignant huff. "Is it my fault my parents had a sense of humor?"
He waved her off and then popped out in a cloud of smoke.
The bird in her cage coughed dramatically. "Don't you hate smokers?"
Holly let out a breath. "I'm not very fond of that one."
With that, she turned and walked back down the road, dragging her luggage behind her. "Easy does it, big foot," Artie squawked at her. "You're getting seed everywhere."
"Be quiet, bird, or I'll take you to the nearest cat rescue."
"Not funny, Reaper girl. So not funny."
It wasn't a long walk, but to Holly, it seemed like miles. Not only that, but the sun was going down and the crispness to the air deepened to a definite chill. Usually, she enjoyed the outdoors, but being so bone tired, suffering from the train’s boxed food menu, and downright ticked off, she was not having a good time.
"There it is," Artie said.
"Thanks, Sherlock," she snapped back. Of course, then she felt guilty at talking to her best friend that way. "Sorry."
"You're a hot mess right now. Think nothing of it."
Wow, she thought as she arrived at her destination. The funeral home, looked like a stereotypical funeral home — right out of the eighteenth century. "Do you think the place has running water?"
"Hey boss," the bird said as it preened its chest feathers. "That name sounds familiar."
Ready to fall over, Holly dragged herself up the last few yards to the front door, setting down Artie's cage and pulling out her cell phone. A few clic
ks and she was on the app with her assignment listing.
That's when it hit her. "Oh, man," she sat on the railing. "It can't be possible."
"What?"
"It's our guy. Our subject. Maximillian Hyland is the client I'm supposed to Reap."
"Huh. How about that," the bird said. "Well, this might be the shortest Reap in all of history. If we hurry, we can be on the next train out of here."
Before Holly could answer, she heard a creaking sound and looked up to see the funeral home's front door opening.
Jumping to her feet and wishing she'd had the chance to freshen up before dispensing her duties, she looked up to stare in the face of her next job.
And stopped dead in her mental tracks.
This guy wasn't just drop-dead gorgeous. He was stunning. Warm brown eyes found her first, followed by a square jaw and dimples that took her breath away. And, to top it all, his chestnut hair was long enough to touch the top of his shoulders.
Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest, which would have been a bad thing for anybody, let alone a Reaper.
And, then there was the rest of him. Slender, but muscular, with a swimmer's body, dressed in an Armani suit, exquisitely filling out every inch of the fabric.
"Hi," she finally managed to say in a voice that sounded like the cross between a frog's croak and a strangled cat.
"Well, hello." He glanced around her to see her rolling suitcase, back pack, and bird cage. "Come to arrange a funeral service, have we?"
Dear god. He had a British accent.
For the next few seconds, Holly's emotions went from completely gaga to holy crap. She was a Reaper. He was her Reap-ee. Immortal or not, he was going to be crossing into the next ethereal realm and she was going to the next job. A nursing home in Omaha, if she remembered right.
Worse yet, Reapers had a sworn code to follow. She had to tell him the truth at the moment of their meeting.
"Hi, again. I was sent here by Woody, and he said that since every place in town was full that you might have a room I could rent for a while. Oh, and one more thing..."
"What's that?"
She reached into her pouch and pulled out the affidavit. "I'm Holly Dent, officer of the Fifth Guild of Reapers and by the order of the High Council...I've come for you."
#
Max couldn't believe his eyes. A small framed woman dressed in a black robe that only hinted at the slender but curvy figure beneath, stood staring wide-eyed at him, a three-piece luggage set and a decorative bird cage sitting on the porch beside her.
Stunning was the first word that came to his mind. A riot of thick auburn hair that she'd unsuccessfully tried to control in the hood of her robe, framed her heart-shaped face. Almost immediately, her clear emerald eyes captured his attention and held him in thrall. Add to that a flawless porcelain complexion with a smattering of freckles across her nose and she was beyond attractive. Hers was a beauty that captured one's soul.
While she might have been mistaken for a Wandering Waif, or Woodland Fae, he instantly sensed she was not. A strong magic emanated from her. And, judging by the clouds stirring in the sky above them, she could be dangerous.
Deep within him alarm bells rang but he was never one to back away from danger.
Especially when it was contained in such an amazing package.
"I beg your pardon?"
She huffed, obviously frustrated. Clearing her throat, she tilted her head to stare up at him.
"I said, I'm from the Reapers Guild and your number has come up. You're about to take the long trip on the Styx, you know, the boat ride to the afterlive, enter into an ephemeral existence..."
"They still do that? Um, the boat and all?"
She ground her jaw and Max swore her eyes grew a shade darker. "It's a figure of speech. Bottom line, you surrender your soul and I do the rest." She stepped forward and held her hand out to him.
Max took a step back and put his hands up. "Right. Um, well, I'm afraid you've been mis-informed. Some sort of cock-up here at the front office, I imagine. I'm an Immortal."
"Immortal, tinker, tailor, spy, whatever, I've been given orders to Reap you".
Max crossed his arms and considered her a moment.
"I'm not going," he said at last.
Her green eyes grew wide. "Seriously? You think you can refuse?"
"Did you not hear me say immortal? As in, not going to die? Ineligible for death? Beyond the reach of mortality?" He started to close the door.
She lunged forward. "Wait!"
The commanding tone of her voice stunned him. His better senses told him to turn away, run inside, lock the door, and not come out for a century or two.
Max stayed rooted to the spot. When a very attractive woman stood on your front porch, demanding your attention, you didn’t simply turn away. Even if she meant to take your life.
"Yes?"
"I need a place to stay. I came a very long way to get you and the hotel where I was supposed to stay got overbooked. Woody said that sometimes you open up your home." She stopped and looked at the 'Funeral Home' sign with a shudder. "For tourists."
There was no way he was going to let her 'Reap' him. If he were anything but immortal, he would have no say about it.
Under the law, most magical beings had to accept their fate when claimed by a Reaper. Of course, some were either very long lived or immortal. Some followed the path to the hereafter on their own, others were subject to soul collectors like Holly.
It was confusing enough as it was. But, he'd heard the Guild had been pushing for more legislation recently. Was claiming Immortals part of those changes?
Unfortunately, Max was not the best on keeping up with current events. Especially since ‘current’ to Max meant within the last five-hundred years or so.
Immortals were beings that existed outside of time. They could pick and choose how they walked through eternity.
So, no matter what orders she'd been given, Max doubted she was any real threat.
"You can stay, but this is a funeral home and therefore a no Reaping zone. What do you say?"
He meant to say more but almost immediately sensed immense power inside her. Her emotion was demonstrated by the wind rising around them. He suspected that if she chose to, she possessed enough power to take out a city block.
"It's not like I have a lot of choice, now do I?"
Max knew it wasn't in his best interest to give in to sarcasm, but he couldn't help himself. Something in her serious expression made him want to tweak her temper just a bit.
Grinning, he bowed formally. "You're welcome. Please, come in."
He held the door and she stomped by him, clearly not happy about the arrangement. "I don't require much," she told him. "A clean bed, an early wakeup call and a continental breakfast will be fine."
Max chuckled.
"Your room is on the second floor, first door on your right," he called after her. To his surprise, she'd left her baggage in the door way. "Oh, here, let me help you with your luggage."
Not waiting for her to comment, he lugged her suitcases up the stairs.
"Hey! You forgot me."
Max spun around when he remembered there was yet one more guest staying with her. The small, rounded birdcage. Leaving the luggage at the top of the stairs, he went back and retrieved the animal.
Bending down, he picked up the cage, and lifted the cover to peek inside.
"Well, hello."
It was an albino cockatiel with bright red eyes that glared. The exotic animal leaned forward. "Hello to you."
"Oh, a chatty little fellow."
"Pfft. I'm a lady and I'll thank you to lower my cover. This place has a draft."
"Right." He started to comply and then peered back once again. "You're the Reaper's familiar, right?"
"Well, aren't we a nosy one? I'm more than a familiar. I'm a witch and can turn you to stone if I choose to. So, you'd better watch out, mister.
"
"Right. A witch that encases itself in feathers, lives in a cage and has no bowel control."
The bird flapped its wings and hissed at him.
Deciding that he'd ruffled the thing's feathers quite enough, Max lowered the cover. The creature was almost as prickly as it's master.
This was one more complication added to a day of them. "A rat with wings."
"I heard that." The bird hissed again.
"Maybe it's time for me to get a cat."
When he'd reached the guest room, he knocked on the door. "Room service." He'd meant it as sarcasm, but somehow, he thought it might be lost on the snappy vixen.
It wasn't the first time he'd taken on guests, and to be honest, he usually enjoyed it. Being an Immortal, he wasn't one to have a lot of friends. Add mortician to that, and well, humans and Magics alike pretty much steered clear of him. Not that he'd hadn't been nice, or even friendly.
Nobody liked to hang around with a guy who dealt with the dead. Heck, even the zombies made it a point to leave his immediate vicinity whenever he entered a room.
As if he'd bother with the already dead.
You sucked if the zombies deserted you. They didn’t have high standards when it came to friends.
"Thank you," she said, opening the door. "Oh, let me get my wallet."
She'd already removed her robe and Max was delighted to see that despite the austere wardrobe required for her work, she had a fun, quirky side. Wearing a light green, tea length, floral print peasant dress, she accented the scoop neckline with a vintage string of pearls that matched her earrings and bracelet. It was a vintage nineteen-fifties look that ensnared him.
A guy could fall for a woman like her.
Any guy other than Max, that was. He was not a man to fall easy, or even fall at all. As a much younger Immortal, he'd found the girl of his dreams.
Or, he thought he had, but the feelings hadn't been mutual. A young witch who was mortified by having to spend an eternity with one fellow.
Turned out, it was hard to keep the magic alive when one had unlimited time and a heart for roaming. He'd wanted to stay with her for eternity. She ended the relationship after six months. It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way.