Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
While he was distracted with the show of revealing his face, I grabbed the scythe from the ground. Plucked it right out of the earth and gripped it with two hands.
It singed my palms, but I didn’t care about the pain. Smoke rose from my clenched hands as the power of the scythe hissed and burned through my skin. I raised it over my head with the blade pointing right at him.
Now it was his turn to be afraid. I could see the fear on his face, widening his eyes and tightening his pale skin. His grave-colored lips parted. He rose his hands in desperation.
I clenched my jaw and swung the scythe down with all of my might. The curved blade sunk into his chest and he let out a gruesome macabre scream that chills me to this day.
His body imploded in on itself, crunching into a tight ball before disappearing with a crack.
The ground opened up at my feet, bright orange light shined up from the depths, and I got sucked into the lair of the Soul Collector. It was the first time I laid eyes on him, but it wasn’t going to be the last…
A sibilation distracts me. No, several of them. More souls ready to be collected.
I turn in the direction the murmur is coming from and slide through space and time until I arrive on the scene.
A giant bridge. Broken vehicles everywhere. An upside-down car with the wheel still spinning. Shattered cubic glass on the concrete. People screaming. A radio playing too loud—the female disc jockey happily talking about her dog seems jarringly out of place. Frantic sirens in the distance rip through the misty air as I take in the scene.
Four souls to transport. I can feel them. Sense them.
One calls to me more than the others. My body prickles with an odd sensation as I feel the soul pulling me toward it.
In the century and a half I’ve worn the black, I’ve never felt anything like this.
I’m more curious than anything, but another of the four souls wanders in front of me, distracting me from the call.
It’s a man. About fifty-seven or so.
His face flashes with recognition when he sees me and then terror takes over.
Before he can scream, I slice my scythe through his torso, disappearing his body and sending it to the Soul Collector.
Two more wandering souls are next. Two slices of my scythe and two more souls are in the collection. Preserved in the afterlife for all of eternity.
And still, the fourth soul calls.
I tremble as I feel the pull intensifying. Something is wrong. No, not wrong… different.
If I had a heart, it would be pounding in my chest as I wander through the wreckage, letting the sibilation of this unique soul draw me in.
That’s when I see her.
Sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bridge, gazing out at the water. In all of my days as a Reaper, I’ve never encountered a soul cloaked in peace like her.
I can feel the tranquility emanating from her body. The harmony. The serenity.
Her battered body is strapped into the flipped car behind her, her precious blood leaking onto the concrete. Yet, she doesn’t react. Doesn’t break out into hysterics. Doesn’t break down in tears.
Even as I slowly approach with my skin tingling, her soul doesn’t turn to me in terror. She doesn’t look upon me in fear.
She sits and gazes out at the calm water in peace.
That’s when something in me changes. Something snaps.
It’s not love. Grim Reapers are not capable of love. Although, it feels like… No. It’s not possible.
Reapers are supposed to be immune to feelings, but I sense them circling inside, growing stronger as they fight their way up from the murky depths. Possessiveness, protectiveness, desire, lust.
I want this girl. I need this girl.
One look at her stunning face and I already know I’m about to commit the cardinal sin.
The Soul Collector is not getting her. Not now. Not ever.
Her soul is mine.
She slowly turns to me and smiles sadly.
My legs buckle. I nearly drop my scythe for the first time in a century and a half.
Those lips… So full of color. So full of life. I stare at them in stunned silence, mesmerized by their beauty.
Her brown eyes are like poetry, both mysteriously cryptic and stunningly beautiful. They make what’s left of my soul sing.
I don’t know what to do. I’m at a loss.
My body is humming with energy as I stare at this treasure. There are no angels in this universe, but if there were, she’d be one of them.
Her long black hair is framing her face in a modern style. Normally, it wouldn’t be appealing to me, but with her, it’s utterly perfect. She’s perfect.
The screeching siren of the ambulance cuts through the air as several EMTs flood the bridge, looking for survivors to help.