Reaper (End of Days)

Chapter Two

Ten years, three months and four days. That was how long it had been since the worst day of Andy’s life. Of course, since that date coincided with the Apocalypse—Doomsday, Armageddon or whatever you wanted to call it—it had been a pretty shitty day the world over.
Things hadn’t got much better. She settled her backpack more securely on her shoulders and studied the road ahead. She’d walked these roads since that day, always on the move, never stopping for more than a night or two. She’d tried to in the beginning, but she was just too different to hide amongst humanity for long.
She trudged along the road, the tightening in her calf muscles telling her she was heading up an incline. She wouldn’t have known otherwise, after a while everything looked the same. Dust and f*ck-all else leading into foothills and mountains in the distance. Apart from yesterday…yesterday she’d passed a tree. It had provided hours of entertainment.
Reaching the top of the incline something new caught her eye. Pausing to rest her booted foot on the bumper of an abandoned car, she shielded her eyes and squinted. Despite her dark glasses the bright sun foiled her vision, making the dark smudge on the horizon dance and waver.
She growled under her breath. Why the hell couldn’t she have gotten useful abilities like some other paranormals? The ability to change form and run like a Lycan, or the night vision of a Vampire…either would have been useful. At least, far more useful than what she did have, dangled on the end of a chain at the disposal of fate, chasing silver threads only she could see. It sucked, big time.
Of course, most people would tell her to look on the upside—she couldn’t die. Would’ve helped if she’d known that before she’d tried to commit suicide. Three times. That had been the year after the war. She’d been way unstable back then. Mind you, when you were forced to kill your family, friends—hell, everyone you knew, then it was bound to knock a few cogs loose upstairs. Since then she’d come to terms with what she was, somewhat, and just did her job.
The smudge on the horizon resolved itself into a plume of smoke. Five silver lines, the sort only she could see, flickered and lit up in the corner of her vision. They headed off straight towards the smoke.
She sighed. Another job. No rest for the wicked.
The small black mark on the horizon grew larger and larger as she walked. Eventually it became a small town. Andy studied it as she trudged closer. Most humans lived in places like these. Towns fortified against any sort of attack—be that attacks from other humans looking for supplies, or attacks from any of the paranormal types.
This one had particularly good defenses. The person who’d put them together had really known what they were doing. She passed an outer redoubt of steel and iron barricades, nodding at the stony-faced guard stationed at the lookout post.
The silver lines she was following didn’t lead into the town. Instead they branched off to the right. Like a good little puppy she followed them. The skin between her shoulder blades itched as she walked. Within seconds more armed figures appeared on the main wall, silent and watching. She was impressed. These people were on the ball.
Turning the corner she found what she was looking for. A funeral pyre smoldered away, billowing black smoke high into the air. The wind changed direction for a second. Wrinkling her nose she tried to breathe through her mouth. Humans smelt bad enough when cremated, but Ghouls were even worse.
She didn’t need to count the bodies on the pyre. Five silver lines fed straight into what she was looking for. Five souls, the ones belonging to the remains on the pyre, stood waiting for her. Standing in a nice little line, ready and waiting for her to reap them.
Used to the drill Andy took a deep breath, and let her spirit slip into the Shade. The layer between life and the afterlife, it was where the souls waited for a Reaper to come along and send them into the afterlife.
The world changed hue, painted in shades of black and grey. There was no color here, no life to speak of, and the truly alive couldn’t enter this place. She looked over her shoulder at the figures on the wall watching her. To them she would appear to be looking at the pyre. She could step bodily into the Shade if she had to, but figured that would freak them out too much if she just disappeared.
As it was, they wouldn’t see her reach around and under her pack, drawing the twin sickles sheathed there with practiced movements. A good thing, because she didn’t fancy being hit with enough lead to drop a rhino. She’d only had this jacket a couple of weeks, and the last thing it needed was ventilation.
The weapons filled her hands, their well-used handles as smooth as silk under her callused palms as she walked towards all that remained of the Ghouls. Twirling the twin blades around, she sliced her way through the souls with ease.
With the souls already separated from their bodies, it was easy. They only put up a fight when she had to both kill them and reap their souls at the same time. She could understand that, most people were kind of attached to breathing. Sometimes she caught a break—death by old age or something like that—but most went down fighting, all the way.
As soon as her blades touched them the souls shattered, disintegrating like smoke blown away by a stiff breeze. As the last soul broke up, a tendril separated itself and wrapped around Andy’s wrist for a moment. A surge of relief and gratitude filled her, welling in her chest and bringing dampness to her eyes. She smiled, knowing it was the soul’s way of saying thank you.
“You’re welcome.” She flicked her blades back along her forearms and sheathed them with a small snick under the pack again. “I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.”
Job done, Andy returned to the spot she’d entered the Shade. It was easy to spot. Behind her, stretching back into the world of the living was her own lifeline. It wasn’t the silver of the Ghouls, or the gold of humanity, or any other color that marked a creature that was truly alive…instead her lifeline was black as pitch.
She snorted in amusement as she stepped back between the worlds. Twin sickles, which when you looked at them were just very small scythes, black on black clothing and a black lifeline… All she needed was to become anorexic, wear a black cloak and she could really rock the Grim Reaper image.
She ignored the watchers on top of the walls as she headed back towards the main gates. Like every other town she’d visited there was another guard on the gate.
“Morning, ma’am, what’s your business in Sanctuary?”
The greeting from the guard was polite enough—even if the smile didn’t extend to his eyes and there was absolutely no way he could hide the threat in the casually held shotgun. To his credit he didn’t even try.
“Just a quick stop off to trade for supplies and water. Perhaps a night’s sleep without having to keep one eye open.”
The guard nodded. It was a familiar story, probably one he’d heard countless times. Still his eyes swept her in a quick but thorough assessment. Without asking, she knew he’d be able to describe her from the weaponry she was carrying but wouldn’t be able to remember her hair color.
Black. Fitting for a Reaper.
“Okay, step under the arch please, ma’am, just there on the red cross. Thanks.”
With a frown she did as she was told, standing right in the middle of the crude cross sprayed in red on the rough concrete. A shiver ran down her spine as magic surrounded her. The guard’s gaze flicked up, so Andy followed suit. There was nothing on the underside of the arched gateway. Frowning, she flicked her vision back into the Shade, and was almost blinded by the devil’s trap painted up there.
Clever. Someone here knew how to mix holy water with PVA glue to make paint invisible to the living eye but capable of use in a spell. She kept her expression level and slightly puzzled, as though she wasn’t sure what the kid was looking at. No need to alert anyone to the fact she wasn’t homo sapiens.
“That it?” She injected a bored note into her voice. “Or would you like me to dance a jig as well?”
He chuckled, and a rueful smile spread over his face. Andy grinned back. Under the wariness and the worry on his face, the kid was rather good looking.
“No, you’re okay, ma’am. You’re good to go.” He nodded through the gates into the town. “Best place to go is Val’s. Just head up the road and it’s on your left, can’t miss it.”
“Thank you.” She inclined her head, shrugged her pack to a more comfortable position and walked into Sanctuary.
Inside the walls with their impressive defenses it was pretty much the same as every other town she’d visited. Dilapidated buildings lined the streets, and as she walked further she passed inhabited houses like small fortresses.
It didn’t take her long to reach Val’s bar. Like the rest of the town it was a little worse for wear. Right at the moment though, it looked like heaven. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stopped. Sitting in an actual chair rather than on the ground would be a novelty, and if they had running water and a bath, she might just think she’d died and gone to heaven.
The hackles on the back of her neck rose a second before the door in front of her burst open. A young lad stumbled out, glaring over his shoulder to snarl. “You’ll regret saying no. Jed doesn’t like people who don’t play ball.”
Andy stopped. The kid righted himself, his yellowish gaze sweeping over her, and all her instincts went into high alert. He wasn’t human, not with eyes like that. Her palms itched, but she fought the compulsion to draw her sickles.
“What you lookin’ at?” he snarled, recoiling a little from her presence. Without realizing what he was doing he kept her in front of him as he skirted around her. He couldn’t know what she was, but most paranormal creatures recognized the ultimate predator when they saw one.
Shrugging, she carried on into the bar. Perhaps they had coffee. Her brain all but shut down at the thought. She could smell it already, taste the stuff on her tongue. It was her only vice, if you discounted bloody murder and reaping souls. She’d run out weeks ago and cold turkey was no fun. It made her cranky.
She caught the swinging door on the way out, halting it with a flat hand on the wood and pushing back inwards. Her fingertips came away tingling. A devil’s trap at the gate, and active ash-wood inlaid in the door? This place got any more interesting, and she’d have to raid an old cinema for popcorn.
After the bright sunlight outside, entering the room was like being plunged into cool water. Andy stood in the doorway and let her eyesight adjust. Her sense of smell kicked in first. The stench of blood under pine floor cleaner was unmistakable—as was the fact someone had tried to scrub more than one kind of blood off the wooden floor. Under the Ghoul she could make out Vampire, Were and…Brownie? Holy hell, if they’d managed to see off a Brownie infestation then these people were serious players.
The room resolved itself into a large, almost cavernous space with a long bar at one end. At one time four pool tables had stood near the door, rings on the floor marking their positions like invisible sentinels. Sauntering down the center of the room, she headed towards the bar. Every set of eyes in the room was on her, which didn’t surprise her after the Werewolf.
She reached the bar. Elbows on the wooden surface, she planted a booted foot on the rail and smiled at the woman wiping glasses behind the bar. Andy knew the smile didn’t reach her eyes, but it didn’t matter. The dark glasses did more than shield her eyes from the sun.
“Howdy. What’ll it be?”
The barmaid put a glass away next to an army of its cohorts lining the shelves. Andy wasn’t fooled by the easy manner. If the woman didn’t have at least three weapons within easy reach she was a monkey’s uncle. Or aunt. Whatever.
“A refill of water, and if you’ve got some coffee I’ll love you forever.”
Andy pitched her voice to polite and friendly as she put her water bottle on the bar. Invulnerable she might be, but being shot hurt. Since she had no active job in this town, all she wanted was to resupply, and perhaps get a good night’s sleep.
“Room for a night, if there’s one available. If not, I’ll kip down in here…with your permission, of course.”
The woman, Val presumably, inclined her head. “One water and a meal on the house, coffee you gotta pay for.”
“You trade?” It was what Andy had expected. Her hands were already in her pockets as she withdrew a few trinkets she’d collected on her travels. Lip-salve, a box of old plasters with smurfs on them and a couple of disposable lighters. All suitable payment for the supplies she needed.
Val’s keen eyes assessed the offerings, and she nodded towards a table nearby. “Can do, have a seat and I’ll bring them over. No rooms, you sleep in here. There’s someone on the bar all night.”
Andy’s lips quirked as she turned and headed towards the table indicated. In other words, there will be someone with a gun on you all night, so don’t try anything funny. Good policy.
Reaching the table, she slid her pack off her shoulders and shoved it under the table, out of the way. The intake of breath behind her warned Andy that her sickles had been spotted. She ignored it and sat. Since the whole thing was spelled to be inconspicuous, then that meant there were spells here that countered illusion. She really was going to have to pick up some popcorn.
She lounged back in the chair and took her time looking around the room. She didn’t bother with the people, instead she scanned the walls and the ceiling. She couldn’t see them, but she knew the enchantments were there.
Her water and food arrived. Andy gave up her search. With tricks like holy water and PVA glue to draw devil traps she was sure they’d gotten inventive here too. If she wasn’t very much mistaken then her cutlery was silver plate, and she’d bet her bottom dollar that the water had a drop of the holy stuff in it as well. Boiling Vamps from the inside was a new approach. Nice.
She studied the food in front of her for a while. One of the figures the other side of the room peeled himself from the wall and headed her way. Andy watched him from the corner of her eye. He didn’t walk, he stalked…a predator like her. The rifle in his hand seemed an extension of his being, like her sickles were, and a pistol played peek-a-boo from his shoulder holster.
Most men didn’t bother with holsters, just shoved their pistols into the waistband of their pants. Andy had always wondered how many had done the gene pool a favor and castrated themselves. Stupidity like that didn’t deserve to breed.
“Good work with the Ghouls. I’m impressed,” she commented as he reached the table and spun a chair around to straddle it. He looked back, his blue-grey eyes as blank as his expression.
Cute and hot. Very hot.
She might not be human, but she was female. Everything about this guy—from the blond velvet-like stubble on his scalp to the solid, ripped body the tight T-shirt hinted at—called to every feminine instinct she had. Worse, in the middle of a cruelly handsome face sat a perfectly straight nose and a sinful pair of lips that made even a reaper think wanton thoughts.
“The Brownies impressed me more though.” Andy leaned back in her chair and studied him more closely. To his credit he didn’t flinch. “How’d you manage to waste the little freaks? They’re worse than a bad dose of the clap.”
Mr. Tall, blond, and less-than-chatty shrugged but didn’t answer her question. Instead he nodded at the plate in front of her. “Not hungry?”
The voice didn’t match the rest of the package. Andy had traveled the length and breadth of the land. She’d tracked and reaped virtually every creature within living legend and a fair few that weren’t. The guy in front of her was human, but the voice. Ohmygod, the voice was something else.
If Andy didn’t know better, couldn’t see better, she’d swear he was a Vamp, or even a fae…some being with the ability to hypnotize with sound alone. Smooth as silk, it went down like a good whiskey, making her think of languorous nights in front of a roaring fire. Then the bite kicked in, like the burn of a good shot as it slid down her throat. Satin over a core of pure steel. Of all the creatures Andy had come across on the roads, her instincts warned her that this one, this mere human, was the most dangerous.
“Not particularly.”
She met him look for look. Foolish perhaps but she found she rather enjoyed baiting him. She knew that, even at this moment, he was making the decision on her. One signal, and she’d be treated to the same fate as the Ghoul’s whose blood had decorated the floor beneath her feet.
“Neat.” She nodded to the items on the table. “Silver for Weres. Splash of holy water in the glass by any chance?”
He started, and Andy’s lips quirked again. She’d surprised him. Lifting the glass she took a long swallow then put it back on the table pointedly.
“Just proves you ain’t a Vamp. Take off the glasses.”
Her eyebrow winged up. There was no way to take that as anything other than an order. As a rule she didn’t take well to orders…
“Tell me your name.” She hooked a finger around the arm of her glasses and slid them down her nose to look at him over the top. Dark eyes met light, and her breath caught for a moment. Andy kicked herself. Oh for heaven’s sake, get over it girl. What do you think this is…some kind of great romance novel?
“Mason.”
Oh my, the sparkling conversation was going to be the death of her. She just hoped his talents lay in…other directions. Her mind hit the gutter level as she wondered what all those tight muscles under his T-shirt felt like. She sighed, and tried to get her raging libido under control.
“Pleased to meet you, Mason. I’m Andy. You’re not part-siren by any chance, are you?”
He recoiled, disgust written over his features. “I’m not part anything. I’m human through and through.”
Andy kept her skepticism to herself. There was something about him—she just couldn’t put her finger on it.
“So…Andy. How about you? You going to drop the charade, or pick up the silver so we can see what you really are? I warn you though, Old Fred behind you is a crack shot with that sawn-off.”
Amusement rolled through her as she took her glasses off, and placed them precisely on the table in front of her. If Fred was going to shoot her in the back, then she’d rather not be wearing them. Good sunglasses were damn hard to find these days.
“A little unsporting, wouldn’t you say? What happens if I pick the silver up, and nothing happens? Do I pass all your tests?”
His gaze hardened. “What makes you think you passed them all?”
A chuckle of amusement escaped her lips. She hadn’t had this much fun in years. “Let me see… Ash-wood in the door to bar witches…wouldn’t stop a warlock or a sorcerer though. The door-step has an iron strip, and you’d be hard pressed to find a real living horse this far out so those…” she nodded to the horseshoes behind the bar. “…are definitely imports.
“I’m guessing you have another devil’s trap by the door, but I can’t see it.” She scanned about the room, picking up each layer of protection she could see. “Wall hangings to cover warding sigils and the ones you have carved in the windowsills are some serious mojo. I’d recommend adding a couple to stop Banshee’s though…passed a band of them a couple of days ago heading this way.”
Picking up the silver fork she speared a lump of beef from the stew and popped it into her mouth, busting the theory she was a Were or a Ghoul. Silver burned the first, and the other couldn’t stomach cooked meat. She looked at him in expectation for a second and grinned at his shell-shocked expression. “Did I miss anything?”
His surprise disappeared under a glower. “What the f*ck are you?”
“Let’s just say I’m not a threat to you and your town. In fact, I’m intrigued. Where did you learn all this stuff?” She waved her hand, indicating the silver, the wards and the other protections in the place. “I’ve never come across a place so well prepared.”
“Playin’ dangerous games, sweetheart,” Mason bit out, holding his hand up in warning as someone in the shadows behind her cocked a weapon. “People around here get jumpy when it comes to non-humans. I’ll give you the same warning I did those Ghouls on the barbeque outside. Get your kit, and walk. You ain’t human, you ain’t stayin’.”
Andy rose to her feet. Below average in height, she’d long ago given up trying to attain the grace her mother had possessed. Finding out at the end of the world she was not only adopted but a different species altogether sure explained a lot.
“Can’t say fairer than that I guess.”
Swiping a razor-sharp nail over the pad of a finger Andy watched blood well up from the small cut. Leaning forwards she drew a symbol onto the table in blood.
“What the f*ck are you doing?” Mason demanded, his gaze sharp as it flicked from her to the symbol and back again.
Andy shrugged her pack on and picked up her glasses. “Copy the ward, wash the table and do the same with the water as you did with the symbol on the gate. It’ll keep those banshees out.” With that, she slid her glasses on and walked out the door.