Sin
Daughter of the Grim Reaper
Book 1 of The Reaper Series
The characters, names, and places mentioned in this piece are nothing more than a figment of the author’s imagination and are for fictitious purposes only. Anything of a similar occurrence is nothing more than a simple coincidence and should not be viewed as anything otherwise.
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And
Create Space
Copyright 2015 © Delizhia D. Jenkins
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Other Books by Delizhia D. Jenkins
Nubia Rising: The Awakening
Love At Last
Viper
Coming Soon
Arian’s Tale
Blind Salvation
Escape
“All I need in this life of Sin
Is me and my dad Grim…”-Sin
Chapter 1
There is nothing neither simple nor easy about being the daughter of the Grim Reaper: a descendent of death. My father is a terrifying son of a bitch with a penchant for pain that is out of this world. I should know; he is the one who trained me. Growing up in the pits of hell was never pleasant. You get to see horrific shit that you don’t want to see and come to understand truths that will rip into the very fabric of your soul. Humans are stupid. I have come to understand that as well, especially the ones who refuse to believe in the concepts of both Heaven and Hell. I have been to Heaven, once with my father. He asked me to accompany him on his tour through the pearly gates. Of course, being what we are, we were only allowed into the first realm before quickly being escorted out by the Warrior Angels. I was told by a messenger angel that once the war was over, when humans were set free of the spiritual chains that sent them to my father’s doorstep, we would be allowed entry. But until then, Hell is where it is.
My name is Sin and I am named after the curse inflicted upon mankind for his disobedience. My father is the Grim Reaper, also known as the Angel of Death, and the most feared and revered of all of the spiritual entities that hide behind the veil that separates the living from the dead. As of right now, I play many roles on my father’s behalf and one of those roles is similar to what humans call a bounty hunter. For instance, every once and a while some idiot attempts to cheat my father of his due by going to a strong witch and after paying a hefty fee (his soul usually) she turns him into a thing of the night: zombie, vampire, etc… When that happens, my job along with a few other trained killers is to come up and bring that entity down where he belongs: in hell. I also go after witches, warlocks, and anyone else that tries to tamper with the natural order of things. Occasionally, I am sent up as a hired assassin by my father. Sometimes humans get a little beside themselves and decide that it is a great idea to use science to eradicate the entire human populations or a select group emerges from the cesspool of science and tries to play God by tampering with DNA in hopes of creating something that would ultimately destroy the human race. I am what one would consider the last resort before God decides to move his hand, and trust me; He is pretty close to doing it again. Of course, He did send His Son a couple of thousand years ago, which ultimately stalled out everything out, but the Big War is coming and what I do is try to keep humans from inadvertently starting it at least before the pregame show.
In human years, I am around thirty years old. I am actually half human. My father was roaming the earth as usual; seeking out those whose number had been called and had not been allowed entrance into Heaven when he stumbled upon my mother, who was a successful lounge singer at the time. And so the story unfolds in the same manner as any story where a nonhuman entity falls for a human: he disguised himself as a human, seduced her and nine months later I was born. She did not survive the birth however, and my father in a rare moment of guilt did not send her to hell. He placed her in a realm that is neither Heaven nor Hell where she would remain comfortably until the end of the Big War. As for me, he took me away from human hands and raised me in Hell where I have remained ever since. I do not get to see my mother much because good old Grim thinks that would activate my human side too strongly and he needed me to free from human emotions. Personally, I think he just wants her all to himself. He is just that kind of guy.
Thanks dad. You are the absolute greatest…not!
I spend most of my days sparring with demons that envy me with a passion. They are at the command of a being I really want nothing to do with while I maintain my free will…oh and it does hurt their feelings a little bit that I have an actual physical body. They have to utilize abilities such as possession and even soul snatching in order to manifest fully among the living. There are very few of them that managed to maintain their original solid forms, but those who were capable were of stronger angelic breeding prior to the fall. Most of the time, outside of the sparring, they don’t bother me. Every once in a blue moon do I encounter one whose attitude needs an adjustment, but other than that I have no worries.
Being the daughter of the Grim Reaper has its perks as well as its downside. My father can be a real prick sometimes with his rules and zero tolerance for disobedience. For instance when I was sixteen, I decided to sneak out through a half opened portal that one of the lesser demons left behind in hopes of creating a path of my own. I had barely stepped out of the veil and into a small town in southern Mississippi when good old dad comes charging out of night sky on a chariot made completely of brimstone and fire. Not only did he destroy the entire town with a level five tornado but he snatched me by my robing with his cold, bony hand and dragged my ass back to hell and locked me deep in the Abaddon pits (which is the deepest, darkest pit in all of hell and where pure evil thrives) for an entire year. For 365 days I had to fight for survival using every technique I had learned from daddy’s private lessons. By the time Grim had remembered where he had placed his black and beating heart and released me, I was half starved, gravelly wounded and longing for revenge.
I still owe him one for that.
There was also the time when I turned 21 and I had fallen for one of his demon warriors. The guy was well over six feet, built like a brick house with massive black wings that extended to a full eight feet when spread. Long raven dark hair fell in waves across his shoulders, while his eyes burned with a red hot heat that I simply could not resist. We had been on several missions together and one night temptation reared its ugly head and I gave up my maidenhood to one of my father’s best men, thankfully not in Hell but on an island somewhere inside the Bermuda Triangle. It was the best night of my life, but I should have known better. I have lived in a realm where someone is always watching, and being that I am daughter of the Grim Reaper did not leave me the exception. I am willing to bet it was one of those holier than thou angels that take their guardianship over the humans a little too seriously because not even 24 hours after I cried out to the heavens (multiple times) word had gotten back to my father and he had his best warrior executed. The poor guy is still being tormented somewhere in one of the many levels of Hell. As for me? I was banished from visiting the earth realm; stripped entirely of my position as head bounty hunter, and left to wander around the various levels until I either went mad from pure boredom or died from the mundanity of it all. Oh yeah, and in a moment of rage, he sent me back to the pits only to have
me return a few days later still stripped of my title, and banned from the earth realm.
Of course Grim came to his senses after six months when one of the Hell Hounds broke loose and I am the only one capable of bringing them back without having to harm them. And then shortly after that, a small civil war broke out between succubae and the harpies and who has the diplomacy to work that out? You guessed it, me. And then not even a month later, a very brave soul of a former rapist and serial killer managed to escape his chains and stole Grim’s Scythe before returning to the human world to wreak pure havoc. Again it was me whom my father sent to go after the bastard and clean up whatever mess he made. The founder and creator of Hell showed absolutely no gratitude whatsoever, he just blew me off without so much as a thank you, but dad was pretty happy. Well, as happy as an Angel of Death could possibly be. I was fully reinstated back to head bounty hunter and was given my freedom and now here I am.
Hell is in an uproar again. Humans are still being stupid and my father has gotten himself into a world of trouble. A human has gotten ahold of the first Seal of the Apocalypse and the Warrior Angels think it is my father who is responsible. My father’s fate rests solely in my hands as does the rest of the world, so I have been released into the earth realm to not only find the seal and return it to the powers that be and drag the foolish soul down to hell where he belongs. My name is Sin, and I am the Grim Reaper’s daughter, and this is my story.
Chapter 2
Stepping out of the sulfuric fumes and brimstone from a hell portal is not the grand entrance I had intended on making. I am still in need of some practice in opening dimensional portals but my dad was in a hurry and he had no time to gather me up a small traveling force to accompany me on this mission. For the first time ever I am on my own, but if need be I do know how to call for help. So, as I step out of the sulfuric fumes with bits of brimstone sparking up behind me in the busy intersection of the L.A neighborhood, I damn near cause a three car collision. Horns honked in the background while I struggled to orient myself to my strange surroundings. One guy even leaned out of his car window to shout some very not nice things at me. I turn to face him and the brute had to be no taller than me (which is around 5’7”) with a scrawny build, black hair that was slicked back exposing his wide forehead. Dressed in a two piece suit, he possessed the demeanor that told the world he had it all, but in reality he had less than two weeks to live. Unbeknownst to humans, each and every one of them is marked from the moment of birth, and as they grow older the mark fades until it completely disappears. Each mark is unique to its owner, just like fingerprints and is usually placed on the forehead, hear the third eye chakra. Unless they are granted special angelic protection from the powers on high, an unmarked human is one that will receive a visit from my father, and judging by the fading mark, his cocky demeanor and overall bad attitude, his death was going to be violent.
The doomed human shouted at me again, and I scurry across the street quickly to avoid meeting my own demise. Busy onlookers stopped in their tracks to observe me in my obvious state of confusion until I realized that my wardrobe was drawing more attention from the onlookers. In Hell, robing is a necessity. It provides plenty of ventilation, and is lightweight and aerodynamic…but clearly I do not have enough to cover very important parts of my body. I look down at the garb my father insisted that I wear: perfect for everyday attire in Hell, but not so perfect for walking the human streets. A sheet of fabric (black) is tightly wound around my breast, exposing my stomach, while extending down in a looser fashion around my waist, before draping in a leafy fashion several inches above my knee. Sandals cover my feet while their lacings wrap all the way up my calves in an ascending spiral. Strapped across my back are my poison tipped arrows-the poison coming from the blood of one of the dozens of Harpies that terrorize the very bottom levels of my world. And then attached to my hip are my bow; sword and a cute little dagger I stole from my father’s possession one evening…and don’t worry, he doesn’t even know that it is gone.
Well, there is nothing to do but remedy the problem. I need to find a shop where I can purchase some proper human attire. I know my way around the human world pretty well, but I did not come properly prepared. The best way to acclimate myself to this unfamiliar terrain is to simply walk around, so I casually begin to stroll down the narrow pavement. I try to keep my focus ahead of me but it is difficult to not feel out of place when humans insist on reminding that I am. Their inquisitive stares and sidebar snickers tempt me into ending quite a few of their miserable lives but I have to remind myself of the consequences of such a hasty reaction. I bypass what appear to be shops that sold tools for contraptions that I have yet to fully understand before having to cross another bus street. I study a group of humans ahead of me, and I walk quickly to follow their lead. They pause at the light and wait for the light to signal them with the image of a strange looking human figure with a missing neck and a body that leaned forward like he is about to sprint away. I have seen these quite a bit in various human neighborhoods and I must say it is odd. But whatever, when they cross so do I and once safely across I continue my stroll for a good forty minutes before happening upon a boutique of some sort that sold various styles a garb. I am sure the salesperson will be more than able to assist me in what I am looking for.
Once inside I look around at the varying styles of women’s fashion, and just as I approach the hand bags and shoes a young woman possibly no older than 20 greeted me with a warm smile.
“Hello,” she said, pulling her chestnut brown hair back into a bun.
“Greetings,” I say studying her closely.
“Do you cosplay?” She quizzed taking note of my wardrobe.
I have no idea what cosplay is and judging by her curious glance I am willing to bet it is something sexual considering sex is the second thing that seems to be at the forefront of the human conscience. “No, I’m afraid not,” I reply casually.
She blinks several times before sizing me up again. “Well where are you off to?”
“I am off on a mission and I need some proper hu-attire. I need some new clothes.”
Again, she stares at me blankly. “What kind of mission? What are you in? The CIA?”
Her questions are triggering a high level of annoyance and I can see why my father enjoyed his job so much. All I needed was a few changes of clothes yet I am trapped in a series of twenty questions by a girl who was in desperate need of a career change.
“Do you always ask so many questions?” I breathed finally.
“Oh I am sorry,” she expressed regretfully. “My parents always told me I would never find a husband because I talk too much.”
“My apologies for the parental cruelty,” I say. “Now would you please show me around? I am not good at…uh dressing myself.”
She gave me another once over before handing me her hand. “My name is Amina by the way.”
I give her a confused look as she stood there with her hand extended and then I realized that this was another human greeting. I take her hand into my own and upon contact I learn everything I need to know about Amina. The images hit me hard and fast: Parents are the owners. Born in Lebanon but immigrated to the states to escape child bride customs. In college… (whatever that is). Studying fashion design and wants to start her own clothing line… Loves everything about Justin Bieber… Will live a long life… Excellent. She is oblivious to the fact that I was able to siphon any type of information from her, and starts chatting away once more about their latest shipments, inquiring about my size in pants, shoes and dresses and before I knew it she had shoved me in the dressing room with an armful of merchandise.
Needless to say I spent three whole hours in the store trying on outfits that she had put together, including a similar garb that she herself wore: a royal blue romper pants set. She said that the color and the style looked great with my dark skin and dreads, and being that it is indeed closer to spring I needed to purchase it ASAP (which I interpreted as immediat
ely). She even assisted me in selecting matching shoes for the 7 outfits that she proudly selected for me. “You are really pretty,” she had said when I had come out of the dressing room wearing a pair of high waist denim with a crop top. “My uncle dated a black woman once,” she continued. “He said she was the best girlfriend he ever had.”
In Hell, breeding is not based upon ethnicity even though there are not many of us that were actually born and raised down there. What matters most are the powers one possesses and physical strength; the level of evil one submits to…deception, ambition, and mental domination…none of that other stuff humans tend to worry themselves over. “Thank you,” was the only thing I could muster. I could care less about human courtships. The last time I was courted the entity was executed and I was banned from ever returning to the earth realm. By the time I was ready to leave and she had tallied up everything, my total amount came up to $550. Not a problem. I just had to remember how to materialize money without her knowledge. “Ok…how do you accept your payment?” I asked stalling her out.
“Cash, credit, debit, checks…” She said casually.
“Can you check in the dressing room and see if I dropped my wallet in there?” I said pretending to search myself as if there could possibly be any pockets on my body.
“Sure! Be right back,” she said stepping away from the register.
Sighing in relief for the brief opportunity, I closed my eyes as my father had taught me and pictured American money. I had to be careful and not focus on anything else such as the Euro dollar otherwise we would have a huge mix up. I pictured the green paper material that made the world what it was and I made sure to picture lots of it. In just a few seconds I had a handful of $100 bills in my hand and when she came out, she seemed a little irritated.
Sin: Daughter of the Grim Reaper (The Reaper Series Book 1) Page 1