Authors: Liz Long
A Reaper Made (27 page)
Perplexed, I shook my head. “I never thought anything of the sort.”
Helena had the good grace to look both relieved and a bit ashamed. “We know there is talk, of the supposed hierarchies between Mades and Trues. We Originals, it was never our intention to create disharmony. Not all of us felt the way Alistair did about being chosen to reap.”
“Not all,” I repeated slowly, raising my brow, “then how many?”
She shook her head. “Alistair was the only one with the balls to try something.”
I could swear I saw mischief in her eyes and my lips twitched at her wording. I never would’ve expected an angel like her to say such a thing. I must’ve still looked concerned, because she pursed her lips as though debating to continue. After a minute, she seemed to trust me enough to confide in me.
“The elders, we will be conducting extensive trials for Mades and Trues alike. We will make sure this kind of event never happens again.”
“Not a bad idea,” I murmured.
“I have spoken with the elders about your heroism,” Helena said. “They believe you should also be rewarded.”
I looked up at her, wondering if that meant crossing over. She read the question on my face and gave me an apologetic look.
“I am sorry, but that is out of the question. You were right in that the prophecy applied to Tully, but the ascension was only for one Reaper.”
I deflated, withdrawing my hands and placing them back in my lap. “I understand. I hope you know that I don’t expect or need a reward. I’m proud of what we did and my only real request is that you don’t banish me as a spirit or reap my soul because of my actions.”
Helena laughed, a lovely tinkling sound that reminded me of wind chimes. “Child, we would do no such thing. You saved Fate itself. We are more than willing to overlook your keeping an eye on living family in order to protect them.”
“I’m glad. The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to cross over. I really do like helping souls move on.”
She smiled. “I know. You are quite good at it. I imagine in a few hundred years, you will be an excellent mentor, as well.”
I breathed a sigh of relief out of habit, but knew I looked as confused as I felt. “What’s the reward then?”
“The elders decided that, in your unique situation, you may be allowed to help your family’s spirits cross over when their times come. You will reap their souls when they die, which will give you an opportunity to say goodbye.”
My jaw dropped, emotion making my chest feel tight. “Really? You’re sure that’s okay?”
Helena placed her delicate hands on my knees. “Tully said you were a fluke and he was correct. You were meant to stop Alistair and help Tully and those souls ascend. I also know you never had a proper farewell with your family; this is our way of saying thank you.”
“Thank
you
,” I said. “This is better than anything I could’ve asked for.”
Her smile nearly blinded me. “I am glad you think so. We wanted to express our gratitude for what you did.”
“If you all need help…with anything at all, please let me know. I want to be of use. I know I’m young and just a Made—”
She cut me off. “You have proven you were meant to be one of us, no matter how it happened. Believe me when I say I will personally be coming to you soon.”
Evidently the end of the discussion, Helena stood to walk me out. We reached her doorway and she paused. To my surprise, she reached out and squeezed my hand.
“Thank you, Grace, for everything you’ve done. We look forward to having you with us for years to come.”
“Me too, Helena. Me too.”
Acknowledgments
It’s a list of the usual suspects, but there are also a few new folks I’d like to thank for their help. THANK YOU: my husband Jason for becoming a teacher so his days of lesson-planning ease the guilt of my writing for 8 straight hours; Morgan Wall, my eagle-eyed editor and fabulous sounding board; Erica Dickson, my brilliant cover designer and cheerleader; my amazing beta readers Ethan Gregory, Christina Marie Mitchell, Ginny Lurcock, Emerald Perpete, and Rhiannon Thomas. Special thanks to the fantastic bloggers who helped with this release as well as the authors who so generously donated for the online release party!
The Links
Thanks so much for reading!
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If you’d like to read the first two book in the Donovan Circus series, you can check
Gifted
and
Burned
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Witch Hearts
, available on Amazon and B&N. A paranormal thriller, this standalone novel focuses on a serial killer hunting witches for their power.
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Special Excerpt
Ink: Fine Lines
Bella Roccaforte
I’m frozen by his words. I’m sure I didn’t mention her name because I almost never say it out loud anymore. Who is this guy? “What did you say?”
“I would like you to draw me a picture of...”
His words are cut off by heavy footsteps on the dock and a grumbling voice, “Move it along douchebag.”
I look to see who it is. I jump up. “McNab!”
McNab tilts his head toward me. “Hello Shay.” He’s always so serious. “You heard me Nigel, move it along.” McNab kicks Nigel’s shoe.
Nigel stands up, putting his hat on his head and smiling. “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying, now can you?”
“Trying what?” Who the hell is this guy?
“Yes I can, now make tracks before I kick your ass.” McNab flinches toward Nigel. Nigel starts backing away toward the main dock. “It was truly a pleasure meeting you, Shay. Hopefully our paths will cross again.”
My hand waves goodbye absently, still unsure of who he is or how McNab knows him. Turning to McNab, I pick up my backpack. “How did you know where I was? And how do you know Nigel?”
“Simple, Shay: I’m an investigator. Finding things is what I do. Nigel? I know him from the business. He’s a reporter, a freelancer, a hack. His birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory.” I love the way McNab talks; it’s always so urgent even when he’s saying simple things like ‘pass the salt’ or ‘hand me that pen.’
“You look hungry, kid. Have you eaten? I can tell you haven’t eaten dinner, let’s eat dinner.” McNab rattles off in his own special brand of speech. See what I mean? Urgent.
“Sure, let’s eat dinner,” I answer. It’s usually pretty hard to get a word in edgewise with him, but it’s okay. Walking up the dock, I pat him on the shoulder. “Thanks for stepping in there.”
“Whoa, you know the rules: nobody touches McNab.” He says, moving away from me with his hands raised like it’s a stick-up.
McNab doesn’t like to be touched. He says it disrupts his psychic field and he ‘can’t work with that.’ I have a private chuckle at McNab’s expense.
“Not funny.” McNab continues walking without turning around.
INK: Fine Lines (Book 1) - FREE
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Special Excerpt
Bait
K.C. Blake
The knowledge she was no longer alone in bed should have scared the crap out of Bay-Lee and normally it would have, but she was still floating on the fragments of a blissful dream.
The soft whisper of a lover’s hands surfaced with her consciousness.
She’d been dreaming about being in love, the kind that inspired people to die for each other, the Romeo and Juliet sort of love.
Beyond that nothing seemed real to her.
An odd smell pierced the veil of sleep, and she wrinkled her nose.
Jack Daniels
?
The next thing to grab her attention was the feel of a hard body crowding her on the narrow mattress.
Warm breath lightly blew a trail down her face from forehead to mouth like the soft wings of a butterfly brushing against her skin.
Fingers slid up one arm to curve around her shoulder.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she smiled up at the gorgeous stranger.
Fantasy wove a complicated tapestry with reality, and she decided she was still dreaming.
The dark-haired boy’s gaze settled on her lips.
She could practically read his mind.
He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could breathe.
Still living on the leftover residue of an imagined love, she was going to allow it.
A tingling sense of anticipation had her nearly breathless already.
She closed her eyes again, mentally preparing for the kiss.
She waited.
The bed creaked as he leaned in to give her what she desired most.
His hot breath teased her lips, and the smell of whiskey intoxicated her.
She clenched her hands into tight fists, grabbing and holding bunched up bedding, silently willing him to hurry before she came to her senses.
Outside of this moment nothing existed, not school, not her boyfriend, not the troubling circumstances that forced her to constantly move from state to state, nothing.
When her lips remained cool and untouched, she opened her eyes to find the boy staring down at her with pure contempt.
A menacing light emanated from his eyes.
He parted his lips on a soft growl, reminding her of a werewolf, and her blood turned to ice.
“You ruined my life,” he whispered in a semi-harsh tone, accusing.
Wide awake now, facts hit her like an avalanche.
A stranger was in her bed, her gun was in the dresser, and he was big enough to overpower her.
Feeling vulnerable made her sick to her stomach.
It also filled her with unquenchable anger.
How dare this stupid boy invade her bedroom, her
bed
, and threaten her!
Speaking in a firm tone without the slightest quiver, she asked, “How did you get in here?”
He rolled off the mattress, no hurry, while she pulled the sheet higher to hide the bunny pajamas.
They were ridiculous, sky blue with fluffy scampering white rabbits.
Knowing her hair was a mess, she automatically reached up to smooth it down.
At the last second she stayed her hand.
Why should she care if he thought she was pretty?
“Did Connor let you in?”
Her uncle wasn’t known for having the greatest judgment in the world.
The intruder grinned and took two steps back until beams of moonlight exposed the left side of his body.
Tall and muscular, the guy was built better than any of the boys at school.
If she had to guess, she would say he was between eighteen and twenty-two.
Utterly masculine, he also had a lot of features girls would be envious of, long lashes, thick hair, and beautiful eyes.
They were the most amazing shade of green, like a place deep in the forest after a violent thunderstorm.
He grinned as if hearing her thoughts.
“I thought it was every teen girl’s secret fantasy to have me in her bedroom.
Was I wrong?”
It was then she recognized him, Tyler Beck, lead singer for the notorious band called Bad-Rock.
There was a celebrity in her bedroom.
Gulp
!
For a moment she forgot to breathe.
How was it even possible?
Why would a rock star come to her home in the middle of the night?
She had to be dreaming.
