Genre(s): All Books, BBW, M/F, Paranormal, Shape-shifters
Barnes & Noble
Reaper extraordinaire, Laney Larson, is stuck in Liberty, Oakwood of all places, for two reasons. One, there's way more paranormal activity going on than normal for a little town like Liberty. And two, a sexy as hell cop called Troy.
So when the proverbial hits the fan and they get wind of a demon break-out from the third hell, a prison even the demon king himself won't set foot in, what's a reaper to do but strap on her blades and help track the escapee down? But then the creature takes her man, and all bets are off.
A reaper, a demon and a cop...will Death claim them all, or just one?
Read an Excerpt
© 2014 Mina Carter
Liberty, Oakwood. A shitty little town in the ass-end of beyond. On first glance, there was absolutely nothing noteworthy about the place, apart from the fact it had a higher percentage of paranormals than any town I’d seen in years. Not normally a problem. Most of the paranormal persuasion kept to themselves and tried to avoid the notice of people like me.
You see, I look human. I walk and talk human, but I’m not, not really.
Let me introduce myself.
My name is Laney Larson, and I’m a reaper.
Yeah, you heard that right. Forget the boney old dude in the robes with the scythe, he’s not been around since the Middle Ages. At least. I’m his great-great-add-a-few-more-greats-grand-daughter. Or something.
Whatever, like every reaper out there, I carry a piece of him, my Grimm, within me. It’s what gives reapers their abilities and lets us see things others can’t. Like the lifelines of every living creature. It’s like some fancy sci-fi heads-up display, but I don’t get anything as useful as the time blinking in the corner of my eye. Instead, I get active lines, like a pyrotechnic ‘to do’ list that never ends. Once one ‘goes active,’ I track it down and separate the soul from the body for its onward journey. Kinda like a final destination air hostess.
But without the snazzy uniform, and more attitude.
Reaping these days is modernized…to a degree. Most of us still use bladed weapons, I use sickles to cut the soul from the body, but we get assignments via email from the head office. My department is Violent Deaths. Violent, human deaths.
Then I’d stopped off at Oakwood and the shit hit the fan. Not only was I attacked by a werewolf in an alley (and believe me, only the dumbest fucking werewolf would ever tangle with a reaper willingly), but I was ‘saved’ by one sexy-ass cop by the name of Troy Regan. A guilty pleasure I really shouldn’t have allowed myself, but dayum last night had been one hell of a ride.
The werewolf breaking into his house during the night had been a bit of a downer, but not as much as my hot lover’s insistence on calling the damn cops after I’d killed it. Which made sense, he was a cop after all. But when your working life tended to include the presence of bodies on a regular basis, often just after the point of death, avoiding the cops was more than a smart move, it was a necessity.
Needless to say, I split before the boys in blue arrived. Yeah, yeah…I know Troy’s a cop and the old boys’ network would listen to what he said. Old habits die hard, though.
In the darkness of night, I felt more at home, despite the fact all my spidey-senses were telling me something weird as fuck was going on in this town. The last time I’d seen paranormals move into a location en-masse like Troy had reported, a hellgate had re-activated.
I kicked a pebble by my boot and watched it roll away across the asphalt. It couldn’t be a hellgate. They were all mapped and the nearest one was a good eight hour drive away. At least.
Whatever was happening here, I felt more like myself this morning. Especially when my bike had been waiting for me, and the Grimm had come back ‘online’ so to speak. I’d expected orders to high-tail it out of town, but instead…nothing. No new timelines popped up in the corner of my vision and the Grimm was uncharacteristically quiet. No grumbles about my night off, if you could call a span of six hours a night off. The thing usually pitched a bitch-fit about my need to sleep, so this was weird, to put it mildly.
I’d managed to get a couple hours of shut-eye at a motel on the edge of town after leaving Troy with the dead Were. Even managed to snag breakfast and enough coffee to sink a battleship before four silver lines went supernova in the corner of my eye.
Silver. Human timelines. Souls ready to reap. Almost.
When I arrived at the scene—a typical road traffic accident involving speed and the stupidity of younger, male drivers—one of the passengers, a girl who looked all of twelve but dressed like an off-duty pole-dancer, clung precariously to life. Just. Poor thing. No one with that much blood outside of their veins could be described with long-term, or even medium-term survival prospects.
The state she’d been in meant her blood-thickened gurgles were incomprehensible, but I could hear things not in the mortal realm. In the Shade—the area between life and death reserved for the recently deceased and people like me who could enter it at will— her soul cried in pain for her mother. I couldn’t help with that, my duties didn’t involve next of kin notification, but stepping between the worlds, I gave her peace by pulling a sickle from its sheath at the small of my back and cutting her lifeline so she didn’t suffer anymore. So it was a little before her time, sue me. I’m not that much of a bitch that I can watch someone writhe and die in pain.
A normal reap, I shouldn’t have stuck around, but the little voice in the back of my head pointed out that in a small town like Liberty, cops were cops. Which meant no traffic cop cliques, but people like Troy heading out to things like this.
And bingo, I was right. Uniformed officers arrived first, and worked out that they were dealing with the dearly departed. Wreathed safely in the Shade, they didn’t notice me so I stuck around.