Death Wish (Reaper Reborn Book 1) Read online

  Speaking of the asshole sorcerer, I looked around the deserted parking lot and saw that I was indeed alone. Like I had thought, Tristen James Williams had been transferred to his afterlife orientation, or wherever new spirits went to, and I had been brought here on the other side of the door. Alone.

  When he was done, he’d either be relocated to this supernatural hereafter or a Hell dimension. Depending on his behavior on earth.

  And from our tussle before, I assumed we wouldn’t be seeing each other again.

  I rubbed my neck, remembering Tristen’s hands around it, squeezing. Something had sparked in my mind then. Random twinges of feelings but nothing else. Could it have been a flashback to a moment when I was alive? Possibly.

  Had it been related to the way I had died somehow? No clue.

  Maybe there was no connection at all, and I was trying all I could to find a smidge of insight into my time alive. That was more likely.

  Even though it had been a year since my death, I was still considered newly departed. The nine other reapers in our group had at least a century to their afterlives, so it was understandable that there were some things from my human life I was still struggling to get over. As time went on, it would get easier, or so I had been told. Things like breathing or blinking or even feeling certain emotions. They were “pesky” human habits that I no longer needed. Not to mention that for a reaper, they could greatly hinder my ability to do my job. Like my life memories, which had been completely stripped from me after my death. Twenty-eight years full of things and people and places, all gone to me now.

  A complete mind-wipe freed me of any attachments to the living world. I understood that, too, in a way, but it didn’t stop me from being a little bitter about it. I had essentially lost who I was and had been forced to start over. Left to wonder what my life was before this.

  Styx Corp. couldn’t even give me the actual details of my death. I had no idea how or when it had happened. The first memory I had was waking up in Azrael’s office. Then I had been thrown into extensive training with Simon, another reaper of supernaturals. He taught me what I needed to know to cross over all the witches, sorcerers, shapeshifters, weres, and vampires in the world when their time came to an end.

  When I tried to dig a little deeper in my memory for an explanation of the strange feeling of recognition, all I got was a strange emptiness. Annoyance flared. There was no way I was ever going to get the answers I wanted. Damn memory wipe.

  I spotted the building I had assumed to be the Super Mart when I was changing planes. Not a grocery store but a large library, closed now in the late hour. That made sense. There was no need to eat anymore. Since both the living and nonliving worlds mimicked each other, most of the map and landmarks were the same, but there were some modifications, like here. Restaurants, cafés, and bars still existed, but because they were places to socialize, not necessities.

  Standing, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my work tablet. Surprisingly, the thing had managed to survive another rough trip. Not even a scratch, yet my ass was sore as hell. I pressed the button, and Tristen’s profile popped on screen.

  I skimmed the stuff I knew—name, age, race, supernatural type—and went right to the bio. As I read, I wanted to smack myself for my stupidity.

  Self-acclaimed misogynist… Known to assault his female companions… It went on to list those cases with detailed descriptions and the poor women’s names. I skipped a bit. Arrested in 2007 for battery and attempted murder against fourth girlfriend, Sarah M. Berges, but was released once charges were dropped…

  I stopped there. That was all I needed.

  So much for my theory of Tristen being a family man and leaving behind a loving wife and a handful of kids.

  Why hadn’t I read the damn biography? It would have made things so much easier.

  Sighing, I added it to my mental list of must-dos in the future.

  A green light flashed at the top of the tablet, and a notification bubble came on screen with Styx Corp.’s company logo in the center, a circle with a man paddling a boat through some treacherous-looking waves in the center. Greek inspired, of course, like their choice of a name. A play on the River Styx in Greek mythology and the boatman who crossed over souls to the underworld, the birthplace of the grim reaper legend.

  My stomach sank at the sight of the incoming message. It could only mean one thing.

  I was in trouble.

  Should have seen that coming. Fighting with a soul I was meant to help pass on? Not exactly the best work etiquette, but what did everyone expect? The guy started it. I was defending myself.

  As I did every time I got summoned to headquarters, I wondered if there was any way I could get out of going. Pretend I hadn’t seen the alert or claim I’d been busy with an assignment and had forgotten.

  But as quick as the thought surfaced, it was squashed. How many times had I tried that? Never worked. Azrael then sent Simon on my tail, and being a were-creature, he was too good at the tracking part of his job for me to stay out of Azrael’s grasp long. Even though he was my mentor, Simon had never disclosed what his animal side was or showed me his alternative shape, but it had to be a talented hunter because he always found me.

  But maybe this time, I could—

  A loud beeping came from the tablet in my hands, and the green light blinked faster, cutting off my thought.

  “What the fuck—”

  Suddenly, Azrael’s face appeared, his dark hair and sideways grin unmistakable, like an alley cat facing down a cornered mouse.

  “Heck,” I corrected myself quickly. Cursing in front of my boss and the Angel of Death? Unwise. I had filed that one under another one of my mental lists a long time ago. A list of big fat no-nos.

  “What’s a matter, Jade?” he drawled, his green eyes flashing. Immortality looked good on him, permanently making him look in his mid-thirties at most. When I had first met him, I even thought him handsome, but after many trips to his office to be reprimanded, the allure faded fast. “Didn’t expect to see me? Was hoping to run off again?”

  I blinked. “Of course not.” I faked a cough to regain myself. “I didn’t expect to see you on here. What is this anyway? Have you always been able to pop up whenever you want?”

  “No. We’ve made some upgrades. You know to keep with the times.” He paused for emphasis and locked gazes with me. “And our employees.”

  So, because of me. Heard that one loud and clear. “Ah, I see,” I said. “I was on my way to you. Just have to find a portal and…”

  “A block down Summers Street, turn right onto Caroline. Walk two blocks. You’ll see it.” He never broke eye contact as he said it, only raised one brow.

  So much for getting out of Azrael’s summons from now on. “Got it.”

  “I want you here in no later than five minutes, Jade. Five minutes.” The screen went black. The green light shut off, too. I waved my hand over the tablet to make sure Azrael wasn’t going to just materialize again. When nothing happened, I stuck it back in my pocket.

  Man, I hoped he couldn’t do that whenever he wanted. Guess I had no choice now. I had to suck it up, get to the portal, and go to Styx.

  I went over to the spirit door I had drawn on the parking lot’s blacktop and smudged the chalk with my boot. Instantly, the orange glow extinguished, confirming the door was closed. Then, I followed Azrael’s directions, walking down Summers and Caroline, and came to the portal right where he had said it’d be. It was in between two storefronts, in a small alley, partly hidden from plain view.

  Portals were stationed at random points throughout the afterlife, marked with a sign and designed to help spirits travel short or long distances. Since there were no cars, trains, or airplanes, portal-travel was the only means of transportation. Besides walking, that is. But since I was in Carmel, Indiana right now and Styx Corp. was in its own dimension entirely, I couldn’t reach it while taking a nightly stroll.

  Like with the spirit doors, portals wo
rked in a similar way. They were marked with an intricate symbol and transported whoever stepped on them to their desired destination.

  I stood over the symbol. As the pattern glowed white as it activated, I was hit with a strong sense of déjà vu. I had been sent to headquarters so many times over the last few months, it was becoming a bad habit.

  Speaking clearly, I said the two words I dreaded, “Styx Corporation.”

  Warm air rushed all around me, tossing my hair up and over my face. I brushed it back in annoyance as the dark alley and store buildings blurred. Then they disappeared altogether, and in the next second, a giant white marble building surrounded by huge columns loomed in front of me. Like something right out of ancient Rome. White steps led to a grand entrance. Two stone-carved women statues flanked the large glass doors, one holding a baby to her naked bosom and the other with a human skull in her outstretched hands. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they represented.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I trudged up the steps and went in.

  The outside may have been modeled after Greece, but the inside of Styx Corp. mirrored modern-day corporate America. A grand foyer stretched out in front of me, all high ceilings, straight lines, and polished marble. Brushed silver with some abstract touches made up most of the decoration scheme.

  At the very center of the room, a huge metal lighting fixture hung right above a U-shaped desk. Styx’s main receptionist, Maryanne, sat behind it.

  The old crone fixed me with her typical piercing stare the moment I stepped through the doors.

  “You can’t seem to stay away, can you?” she quipped, pushing her huge glasses up the bridge of her nose.

  “Hello to you, too, Maryanne,” I said, not missing a beat. “Did you know that after my assignment today, I stopped at a museum and saw a couple of your relatives in their new fossil exhibit.”

  She harrumphed. “You think you’re so original, don’t you?”

  I smirked. Poking fun at Maryanne was the only upside to being called back to Styx so often. Don’t let the gray hair and sweet grandmother façade fool you, either. The woman was a viper.

  “Let’s see if you’re still wearing that grin after your meeting with Azrael.” She hooked a thumb toward the hallway to the right. “He’s been waiting.”

  All my bravado died in an instant. I really needed to stop getting myself in trouble like this. How many more times was Azrael going to give me another chance? It was very possible that I could be about to walk into his office only to be given the axe and Released.

  Apprehension bubbled up as I started toward the elevators.

  I didn’t need to look back at Maryanne to know she was enjoying my sudden silence. I was sure I’d hear about it again once I came back down.

  If I came back down, that is.

  The hall was long and slender. Elevators lined the walls on both sides, all going to different departments and afterlife dimensions. My destination was the gold one at the very end.

  There was no need to press the up or down button. As soon as I got close, the gold doors opened, and I stepped inside. When they closed again, the small space filled with soft jazz music.

  I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I wondered if he picked the music just to fuck with me.

  The elevator never moved. At least there was no feeling of movement either upwards or down, but the journey itself only took a few seconds. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened again into a giant office. I stepped out. Three walls of floor-to-ceiling windows revealed pale blue skies and passing clouds, as if Azrael’s office was floating in the sky.

  Speaking of the man, I spotted Azrael on one of the red couches at the far end of the room. Like he always did, he wore a high-quality charcoal grey suit, looking more like the CEO of a Fortune 500 company than the Angel of Death. No wings or halo in sight. If he did have those cliché angel features, I wasn’t privileged to see them.

  My coworker, Simon, was standing beside him, looking grave in his black on black attire. Like the other reapers at Styx, he was more traditional in his clothing choice than I was.

  “Jade.” Azrael’s booming tone made me jump the way it always did. He wasn’t reprimanding me or anything—not yet, anyway—but there was a power to his voice that struck me right in the gut. More than a boss scolding an insubordinate employee. As if my subconscious sensed how dangerous he could be if he wanted.

  As an angel, he was on a completely different level than I was used to. He was a celestial being, after all, one of the highest and most powerful spirits in existence. Not being at least a little scared of him would be stupid.

  “Come. Sit.”

  Both orders. Ones I knew better than to not listen to. I sat in one of the oversized chairs opposite his stiffly.

  Azrael gave me another one of his wolfish smiles, which only heightened my nerves.

  “You’re starting to make this a habit, Jade,” he said, leaning back. He draped an arm over the back of the couch. “If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you are disregarding rules on purpose.”

  “I do enjoy our talks,” I said. The sarcasm dripping off my words was too obvious, and I scolded myself.

  Keep your mouth shut, Jade. Don’t be an idiot. You’re in enough trouble as it is.

  Simon shot me a warning look, but Azrael just laughed.

  One of his perfectly manicured nails tapped the dimple in the middle of his chin. “They are entertaining, aren’t they?” he mused.

  Unsure if he was joking or not, I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep my sharp tongue at bay.

  There was a moment of uneasy silence. During it, I wondered why Simon had been called to this meeting, too. He hadn’t been at the other ones. Were they going to throw me back into some kind of training again? Another six months?

  “I’m sure you know why I summoned you here,” Azrael said.

  Trick question. But did I play dumb or answer it truthfully?

  The way Azrael’s gaze bore into mine told me his earlier playfulness was a ruse. He really wasn’t in the mood.

  The truth it was, then.

  “I have a pretty good idea,” I said. “Did the dirtbag snitch on me?”

  Simon gasped, his horror clear on his face.

  “What? That wasn’t a curse,” I protested. “I learned my lesson after last time.”

  “Can you believe it, Simon? Something stuck.” Azrael’s tone teetered on a sharp edge of amused and annoyed.

  Simon didn’t move. His rigidness was making me even more uncomfortable, like I had missed something very important before coming.

  I glanced around nervously.

  Azrael shifted, resting both his elbows on his knees so that he could lean closer to me. “This sorcerer may have been a dirtbag, as you call him, but he was still a soul in our care, Jade. One you beat up before throwing through a spirit door. Am I correct?”

  Another trick question, but I knew better than to answer this one.

  He sighed and pulled himself up to stand. Pacing across the ornate rug, he continued. “That kind of behavior doesn’t look good for us. Just last month you were refusing to cross over the shifter boy in a coma—”

  “Dillion Leon Hendrickson,” I added.

  Azrael waved away my comment. “Yes, that one. Henderson.”

  Picking at my fingernails, I resisted the urge to correct his mistake again. I had an uncanny knack for remembering every person I’d ever been assigned. But even if I didn’t, I’d never forget Dillion. He was a hard one to forget. At only five years old, he and his mother had been in a major car accident. His mother had escaped with just a broken femur and a few bruises, but poor Dillion had been left in critical condition. According to his profile’s bio, his body wasn’t reacting to any of the treatments.

  I had walked into the hospital with his mother sitting in her wheelchair beside the bed, sobbing. How could I not feel sympathy for her? She was losing her child.

  All I had done was whisper some words of encouragement to
him. Told him his mother needed him to get better. To my surprise, the boy woke.

  Was it a miracle? Seemed like it to me.

  Of course, all cases weren’t like that. Dillion had been special. I doubted my words had done anything to help him at all, but from Azrael’s fury later that day when I had been called into his office, I’d obviously done something wrong. Even when I’d tried to argue it was a good thing—the little boy had survived after all—he didn’t want to hear it. Something about protocol, questioning his authority, judgement, and all that. Honestly, I hadn’t paid attention.

  “My point is that one week you’re ignoring your orders, which in turn allows an assignment to live, and today you’re assaulting another. Is there no middle ground with you?” Azrael asked, pulling me back to the conversation at hand.

  I couldn’t ignore his use of the term “assignment” instead of little Dillion’s or Tristen’s names. To Azrael, even to Simon, they weren’t people. They were duties, a job. That’s all. Simon had told me once that it would be easier for me if I disconnected myself emotionally. How to do that? Stop thinking of them as living beings and focus on the job. Go in, do it, and get out. That’s it.

  It had never been that easy for me. And I’d tried. Oh, how I’d tried.

  “Did you even read his profile?” Simon chimed in finally. “Did you read all details before carrying out the job? Educate yourself fully on the assignment? Like I taught you? Do you remember any of that?”

  I hesitated, wondering if I should lie this time or not. “Uh… I read most of it.”

  “How about the part saying he had been arrested over eight times for assaulting women, serving jail time for attempted murder and leaving one in the hospital unconscious?” Simon asked, his voice rising in desperation. “Did you read any of that?”

  Dammit. I really should have read the bio. “I must have missed that part…”