Conjuring Wrath (Seven Deadly Book 3)

by Michelle Gross

  Conjuring

  Wrath

  Seven Deadly: Book 3

  MICHELLE GROSS

  Conjuring Wrath (Seven Deadly, #3)

  Copyright © 2019 by Michelle Gross

  All rights reserved.

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

  Cover Artwork: L.J. Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations

  Editor: Shantella Benson of S.T.A.R. Editing

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Character Glossary

  Previously in Seven Deadly…

  Author’s Note

  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

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Virgin Lust

  About the Author

  The age of the Reapers has ended.

  With the new threat of the Harvesters and the approaching end of the world, the troubles are here to stay.

  Barron Reaper, the bearer of wrath, knows that more than anyone. With the sin of rage in his veins, his life is a chaotic mess of gloom. The vicious immortal has never stopped or relaxed a moment in all his years to feel hope. Especially not when another problem arises on top of everything else—an old demon tradition is being brought back on the Blood Moon.

  The worlds are crumbling around his feet, but that doesn’t stop fate from forcing Barron and Gwendolyn Dolson together.

  Gwendolyn is stuck in a hospital waiting on a chance at life that she will never get when she witnesses a cloaked figure slip through a patient’s door. Seconds later, a man perishes in that room.

  This dying girl is about to find out how drastically life can change.

  Character Glossary

  Here are the seven deadly sins/curses for the Reaper siblings—in order from oldest sibling to youngest. Their immortal heritage traces back to their entity parents.

  Sebastian—Sloth

  Barron—Wrath

  August—Greed

  Maureen—Pride

  Prudence—Lust

  Joy—Envy

  Kara “Kitty”—Gluttony

  Isabella Wen—marked soulmate to Sebastian Reaper.

  Payne Jones—fellow Reaper and friend of the family. (He’s the son of Fear.)

  Grim “Killian” Reaper—Father to cursed siblings. First entity created by God.

  Melanie Reaper—Mother to cursed siblings. Once human, then reborn as a second entity created by God.

  The three entities created by the Devil are:

  Jackal—marked soulmate to Maureen Reaper.

  Harvest—the enemy who plans to steal the Devil’s throne.

  Fear—friend of the Reaper family. Payne’s father. (reformed villain).

  Harvesters—A new group of demons carrying out the demands of Harvest.

  Melinda Thymes—A witch who knows past and future events and will aid the Reapers.

  Previously in Seven Deadly…

  Isabella Wen has awakened the sleepy sloth, but their love sets in motion a terrible fate when Harvest unleashes a vortex that promises to end all Reapers.

  Jackal has calmed pride, but there’s another threat to tackle.

  The Harvesters destroy most of New York City.

  And now…

  Author’s Note

  Although book three focuses on a new couple, I HIGHLY recommend that you read the previous two stories. The plot is ongoing, and everything, EVERYTHING at this point is important.

  And forewarning, some might consider the age difference between the couple in this book to be taboo for some. Just throwing that out there for anyone that might not enjoy that. Also, things are about to get crazy. I hope you guys like weird!

  Happy Reading!

  Chapter 1

  Gwendolyn

  Thump… Thump… Thump…

  Thump! Thump! Thump!

  Since forever, my heart has never favored me. One second its beats were too slow, and I’d become lethargic and hazy. Other times, it beat too fast until I was smothering and unable to breathe.

  The fluorescent lights flickered in and out.

  “She’s going into cardiac arrest!”

  But they weren’t flickering. I was the one fading in and out.

  Dying.

  “Defibrillator!”

  That was why it didn’t hurt. I recognized this cloud of darkness. Three years ago, when I was seventeen, it happened.

  A congenital heart defect.

  I’d lived a pretty normal life with it. My case wasn’t bad… Until it was. I needed a heart transplant. I was second in line for one, but as my mind fought to stay coherent, I knew I’d never survive until then.

  So close… Yet impossible…

  I shouldn’t care that I was dying. As an orphan, I’d bounced around foster homes all my life. My heart caused too much trouble. Too many check-ups. Too many restrictions and medications. And then, the Pattisons found me when I was twelve, and I’d been a burden to them ever since.

  If I were honest, I didn’t care about anything but skating. I hadn’t even been able to do that since my first heart attack.

  I shouldn’t care, anyway.

  But I’d had an insatiable thirst for life ever since I was a child—tossed aside and forgotten. I loved waking up each day. As my life drained, I fought to open my eyes. Everything was a blur above me—heads faded in and out while the lights etched black dots in my vision.

  I was truly dying.

  The world was falling apart. Sicknesses and unnatural weather phenomena had the entire religious community talking about the end being near.

  But I was desperately clinging to life.

  If the world must end, I wanted to die with it, not before it.

  Not that I was a believer—I simply wasn’t sure what to think. I was just Gwendolyn Dolson, a twenty-year-old ice-skating fan. I liked my coffee black. I wore flip-flops year-round in all sorts of weather.

  “We’re losing her!”

  But I could hear them!

  That was always the most bone-chilling part. Please, no! My eyes were too heavy. But there was no pain, and it was even more frightening because it felt good—tranquil. Did everyone die that way? Aware like me, yet unable to do anything?

  No!

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “Again!”

  My body surged from the hospital bed, and with it, my eyes fluttered open for a fraction of a second. Long enough for ice to fill my veins. What was that?

  Standing near my bed was a towering figure—much taller than the doctors and nurses—draped completely in black. Cloak and hood? Couldn’t be right. But I could feel th
e hate pulsing off whatever it was. It was so suffocating in the room that it was like madness manifested itself. Its energy bounced off the walls.

  My vision blurred, and as panic kick-started my heart, I realized maybe I didn’t want to see it. Oh, Jesus, was I already dead? Why did I have a strange pinch in my gut telling me that it was there for me?

  What was beneath the black?

  Everything went blank after that, but not before I wondered… What came after death?

  Chapter 2

  Gwendolyn

  I was alive.

  The weakness in my body told me so. If I were dead, I’d think there wouldn’t be any pain. Not even tiredness, right? If my heart was as energetic as the soul it was trapped with, then I’d be gliding across the ice, doing axels and loops. Perfecting what I’d taught myself through videos. It didn’t matter that I didn’t get to step foot on the ice or wear my first skates until the Pattisons fostered me. Movies and figure skating competitions birthed my love for ice skating. I loved the beauty of it, how perfect the skaters looked, and it was embarrassing to say, but to me, they appeared regal like kings and queens on ice.

  Before my heart acted up, it was, well, life standing in the way. I didn’t have the means to ice skate being bounced from home to home. Some of those places shouldn’t have been called a home—the memory made me shudder. Not having an ice rink close by didn’t help. Then the Pattisons came along, and they felt too good to be true. When they handed me my first pair of skates, walked me inside a rink, and practically dropped me in the middle, I simply cried as I fell on my ass repeatedly and thought, “I can’t believe I’m falling in skates. I’m in Heaven!”

  Alas, my heart couldn’t keep up with my personality. I had so much to give and just couldn’t give it, which was why I lay there in a hospital bed struggling to open my eyelids.

  “I think she’s waking,” Mrs. Pattison whispered. There was a creaking noise, followed by the scratching of a chair’s legs scooting across the floor.

  “Gwen?” Mr. Pattison said. “Can you hear us, honey?”

  I tried to open my eyes, but all I could do was flutter them. After another painstakingly, annoying minute, as the Pattisons continued to coax me awake, I finally pried my lids apart. “There she is.” Helen was right above my face as she smiled, her grayish-blonde hair tickling my nose.

  “You…can’t,” I rasped, my tongue dabbing my cracked bottom lip as I found my voice. “Get rid of me that easy.”

  Tears coated their eyes, but I always ignored people crying. I didn’t want their sadness; I wanted their happiness. “She sounds good to me. Let me go get the doctor.” Harold patted my head before disappearing from my view.

  “Can I get something to drink?” I asked, the foul, dry taste in my mouth making me sick.

  “Yeah.” Helen raised my hospital bed, grabbed a bottle of water, and then stuck a straw inside it as she held the container to my lips.

  I sighed happily as the fluid flowed into my mouth and down my throat. “Much better,” I told her as she set the water on the stand. I felt weak, but I could still scoot up and adjust my pillow behind me. It just took a bit of time for me to get moving—most of it done with a lot of nagging from Helen. I chuckled, used to her fussing. “Who came to visit me?”

  Helen pulled the blanket up only for me to push it back down. “Well…” She smirked, then stepped aside so that I could see behind her. Balloons and flowers covered the entire room. “That’s not even half. Harold had to take a carload home. I think everyone from your college was here last night. The hospital kicked most of them out for being too loud.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  Just like that, the goodness I felt at people being there for me evaporated. The get well soon gifts were a reminder that I could never get well without a new heart. So, until that happened, I was in a holding pattern waiting for something that I might never receive.

  “So, when can I leave? Do we know yet? I-Is today Saturday or have I been asleep longer than a night? I still haven’t found a dress for Penelope’s wedding.”

  “Gwendolyn, honey, slow down. You had a heart attack last evening. What you need is rest.”

  “I know I had a heart attack, but Penelope and Jessie want me to go with them on Sunday to pick out some dresses. Today is Saturday, right?”

  “Gwen,” Helen’s entire demure and tone changed into something I hated. All serious like we were going to a meeting. She took my hand in hers. “It’s okay to be scared. You don’t have to act the same.”

  “I’m fine,” I gripped her hand reassuringly. “It’s everyone else that’s not.”

  Her lips trembled as the tears fell down her face. “Oh, sweet child, how are you so precious?” She dropped her forehead on top of our hands. “So brave.”

  “I’m okay now, Helen. No need to cry.” I patted her head. Everyone around me needed more comfort than I did. I just wanted to live happily. I saw nothing wrong in that. Since I hadn’t died, I still had the chance of getting a transplant. Things could work out, but I didn’t want to waste away idly waiting on something that might never happen.

  I’ve made and lost a lot of friends in that hospital over the last three years. Some were content with their situation. Others were frightened, realizing they were stuck in that place. Regardless, they were all optimistic. A few were like me, never wanting to stop for anything. It wasn’t fair that they couldn’t live outside of wheelchairs or beds. I was dying, but I’d been hospitalized enough to know that my life was a cakewalk compared to some. And that made me miserable, and then I realized I shouldn’t be.

  Was God behind taking lives early?

  Or was there nothing waiting for us on the other side?

  Then, as if my thoughts conjured up the memory, the image of the cloaked figure standing behind the doctors and nurses earlier filtered through, and I froze. The dash of fear sped up my heart, and I sucked in a breath.

  If hate was a being, it was whatever had been standing behind the staff watching me die.

  Helen’s head lifted. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I told her.

  “I’m sorry, Gwen, but you can’t leave the hospital.”

  “I can’t stay—”

  “You don’t have a choice. Just, please, listen to the doctor before you give me your speeches?” She stood and kissed my forehead. “We’re so close. You’re next in line for a transplant.”

  That meant I moved up, but that wasn’t good news.

  Complete heart failure would be the only reason to confine me there.

  Chapter 3

  Barron

  After three hundred years, the human festival is finally returning…

  The blood moon is upon us. Find your human and prepare for a night of sin.

  Ripping the poster off the witch’s shop window, I could barely contain my rage. It was the thirtieth I’d pulled down that day. My skin rippled, and the hairs on my arms stood on end. I took a deep breath, crumbled up the paper, and tossed it to the ground.

  Staying calm was foreign to me. I was a fucking monstrosity of unchecked wrath. Never settled. Never at peace. I battled with the need to tear everything to shreds until that fury won out, and I lost myself entirely to the emotion.

  Those signs hanging all over the Underworld tampered with what little control I had. I was a dark storm that was seldom tamed. My family thought I was in control, but I wasn’t. I simply lived with the dying urge to hurt everything around me, sometimes even them. To envision hurting the ones you loved. It fucked with your head, but at the same time it was so damned nice to kill Sebastian. Repeatedly.

  It was safer for everyone if I kept to the shadows, watching from a distance. When I missed my family badly, I’d pop in and reward them with my nasty presence.

  But lately, I saw them more than ever before, and it wasn’t for a good reason. Seven months. That was all the time we had left to stop the end of the world crisis courtesy of Harvest. We still hadn’t figured out
what the hell we would do, and Harvest’s group just made things worse. Over the last couple of weeks, the Harvesters had wreaked more havoc on the human world and the Underworld.

  Resurrecting the ancient event was too much.

  The human festival hadn’t existed since the birth of the angel of light—a.k.a, Mother Dearest. That was one of the first things she did when she became immortal. Mom shut it down with no help from Grim, my father. Not because he didn’t want to help—he couldn’t. He was created with the rules of both the Underworld and mortal one engraved into his very being. He couldn’t go against them. The same thing applied to sick traditions. Otherwise, he would have ended the practice long before Mom did. I couldn’t imagine it being easy having to stay on the sidelines and not intervening.

  That was before they became parents, so I’d never witnessed the festival. But I’d heard the stories of how they celebrated on that night in the City of the Dead. Demons were granted free rein into the mortal world on the days before the rising of the blood moon—the night the old tradition took place. Any creature or person could be plucked from their world and brought into the Underworld. The things that demons did to them...

  My red essence flared around me as I thought about those gruesome acts.

  With the human festival a little over two weeks away, the demons were already on the move. Humans were about to be held in the Underworld until the celebration where demons would show them off like prizes. Each creature had its own intentions for the mortals they grabbed. Some would become food while others would become entertainment or raped. Sometimes it could be all the above.

  Demons really amazed me. The fiends were bold trying to restart something the Reapers had shut down centuries ago. Did they really think we wouldn’t fuck their night up?

  Wrath intensified inside me. Reapers showing up and killing the demons sounded like a better idea.

  Plastering the Underworld with the posters had to be the work of Harvest and his Harvesters. What a load of shit. I couldn’t wait until we killed every single one of them.