Reapers, Inc. - Demon's Game: Reapers, Inc., #5

By B.L. Newport

In this final installment of "Reapers, Inc.", demons roam the mortal plane wreaking havoc wherever they can. When Magroth, a particularly devious demon, finds a pawn in a lonely, outcast boy, he sets the stage for his favorite game: Chaos. Convincing his new puppet he has the power of magic, the boy calls up the Grim Reaper with the intent to make it carry out his vindictive wishes.
John Blackwick is still on holiday leaving Brigit Malone to continue filling in as the temporary Grim Reaper. When Brigit is caught up in a spell cast by the demon's pawn, she is involuntarily entered into the game that could have dire consequences for mortals and spirits alike. Will she be able to help keep the balance between light and dark, angels and demons? Or will someone lose their existence all together?

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.L. Newport
• Release date: Oct 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310186400

B.L. Newport

B.L. Newport was born with a strong belief and sensitivity in the supernatural side of life. A habitual observer of real life, she writes what amuses and interests her imagination. After growing up in the small Northwest Arkansas town of Siloam Springs, she has lived in New York City and Las Vegas, Nevada. During these journeys, B.L. has discovered the joys of hard work, good friends and a good cup of coffee.

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Reapers, Inc., -Demon’s Game

by

B.L. Newport

Smashwords Edition

© 2014, B.L. Newport

This book is also available in print

ISBN: 1502309033

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents are purely a product of the author's imagination. Any similarity to actual persons - living or dead - places or events are entirely coincidental.

Also by B.L. Newport on Smashwords.com

Reapers, Inc. Series

Brigit’s Cross

Rogue Reaper

Dark Souls

The Hunter

Mackleberry Ridge Short Stories:

Buddy Hatch & The End of the World

Dani Mackleberry & The Bike

Other works:

The Assassin’s Bargain

Acknowledgements

To my family, fans and friends – Thank you a million times for your love, patience and support. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.

1: Mid-October

What’s this?

Randy Lambert looked up from the algebra problem he was attempting to solve and focused his sight on his mother where she stood at the small kitchen’s island. She had come in from work with a bag of groceries under one arm and the week’s collection of mail in the other. At the moment, she was holding one of the small orange cards the postman puts in the box to alert someone they have a package waiting at the post office. Randy quickly looked down at the date he had written under his name on the page where he was laboring through the equations that had been assigned as the night’s homework for a class he was pretty sure he would not use in the life he envisioned for himself. Looking at the date, he rapidly did the simple math in his mind. He counted back to the day he had ‘borrowed’ his mother’s credit card and ordered the books from the online bookstore that promised rare titles in good condition. Due to his age and the fact that he was using his mother’s credit card the boy had placed the order under her name. He had held hope that the package would be delivered directly to the front door of the small house they were renting. That method of delivery would allow him to grab the package before his mom really had the chance to question the mysterious charge that she might – or might not – notice when the bill finally arrived. Randy had selected the least expensive shipping rate, however, he had not thought to double check the delivery method…

What is it? Randy asked, hoping he sounded innocently curious.

Apparently, there’s a package waiting for me at the post office, his mother replied as she glanced at the clock on the wall.

Randy could tell she was calculating the time it would take to drive back to the tiny post office in the middle of the small town she had recently moved them to. Randy looked to the clock as well. She’d never make it in time tonight. The post office closed in ten minutes.

I don’t know what it could be, his mother sounded perplexed. I’m not expecting anything and I don’t have time to go get it tonight. I guess it will have to wait.

Want me to get it? Randy offered. I can pick it up for you after school tomorrow.

How will you get home? You’ll miss the bus if you go to the post office, his mother pointed out.

I’ll walk home, Randy answered casually. It’s only four miles. I don’t mind.

That’s quite a long walk, honey. Are you sure?

Yeah, it’s no problem, Mom.

His mother stared at him for a second before approaching the small table where Randy did his homework before they took their dinner every night. She plucked the pen from his hand and quickly signed on the line that would authorize Randy to accept the package on her behalf. She handed the pen and the card to her son and smiled before returning to the small island to sort the groceries. Randy stashed the orange card in the front pocket of the black book bag at his feet before setting his sight back to the algebra homework.

How was school today? his mother asked as she opened the refrigerator door to put away the carton of milk she believed Randy needed to maintain his still growing frame.

It was okay, Randy offered shortly.

The truth of it was that it had been another miserable, lonely day. He stood out like a sore thumb in the small town school. He was sure he looked like a freak to all the kids that had been born and raised in the tiny farming community. Feeling them stare so openly as he walked the school’s halls in his black trench coat and knee-high black boots, hearing them whisper behind him about the blue-black dye in his hair – it made him miss the anonymity of the large inner-city school he had attended prior to his parent’s messy divorce. He had fit in there. He had a few friends he could talk to there. Despite the affectation that he didn’t care how his new peers reacted to the oddity he apparently presented to their perfect little town, deep down, it really bothered him. Quite often, it made him angry.

Sometimes it just takes a little while to settle in to some place new, honey. I always had a rough couple of months whenever we moved to a new place, his mother sighed.

Randy tuned her out. He had heard the story a hundred times over the summer while waiting for the school year to begin. His mom had been the only child to a lifelong military man and his obedient, adoring wife. The constant moving from base to base, state to state or even overseas had made it hard for her to make and keep friends. The problem had been exasperated by the fact that she was natural-born wall-flower. It was a trait Randy seemed to have inherited. The first two months of school had already come and gone. Randy was pretty sure nothing would change by the time winter break finally rolled around. It was okay, though. He had plans.

Randy?

He snapped to attention and realized his mother was watching him intently.

Yes, Mom?

Are you almost finished with your homework?

Just about, he answered.

Good. Finish up and set the table. Dinner will be ready soon.

What are we having? Randy ventured to ask.

It didn’t really matter what they were having. Ever since they had become a single income family, the dinner fare had become the same every night. Simple and whatever his mother could afford for that week. That was another point in the boy’s pot of anger. His father had made sure they knew he was gone from their lives for good. He did absolutely nothing to make sure they were okay after his fucked up way of leaving. It was as if his father made it very clear his ex-wife and son were nothing but mistakes. Randy was sure he’d never talk to his father voluntarily ever again.

It’s a surprise, his mother offered with a smile. Just finish your homework.

Yes, ma’am, Randy replied before setting his attention back to the troublesome algebra problem.

The next day, Randy could hardly wait for the final period’s bell to ring. He practically ran the four blocks from the high school to the tiny building that housed the town’s post office. He ignored the disbelieving look from the post lady behind the counter as he handed over the orange card his mother had signed. Randy tried to maintain his cool as he waited for the woman to return from the back of the building with the package. It was all he could do to keep from dancing with excited anticipation. When she finally returned and passed the box across the counter, Randy snatched it up like a thief and turned toward the door. He barely remembered to thank the post lady as he strode from the building and headed toward home.

Mag was going to be pleased. Randy hoped so anyway. It had been a couple of weeks since Randy had seen the man, the only one in the hick town to befriend him. As Randy remembered their last meeting, he clearly remembered Mag’s parting words to him: Call on me when you have them…

Randy smiled to himself as he walked beside the road. The weight of the package in his book bag reminded him with every step that he was going to be fine now. Mag had assured him the books would teach him everything he needed to know.

Mag had been the only one not to treat the boy like a freak. He supposed it was because Mag was as much of an outcast as he was. The man had never fully explained why, but Randy had automatically felt a kinship with the odd-looking man who lived so far out in the middle of the cornfield that surrounded Randy’s small house. It didn’t matter that Mag was old enough to be his father. It was a friend. Such a feeling of kinship told Randy that he could trust his new friend – his only friend. Mag would never lie to him.

As if the reminder of Mag’s tiny abode caused it, Randy turned his sight to the withering cornfield he walked beside. The field seemed to stretch for miles. The field across the road was high with dying cornstalks as well. It also appeared to stretch for miles in that direction. Randy frowned. He was really beginning to dislike the color yellow, no matter what hue it came in anymore.

His sight caught a glimpse of the gray thread of smoke snaking toward the afternoon sky from the middle of the cornfield. Mag. He was home. Randy smiled. He would go straight to Mag’s with the books. There would be time. His mom wouldn’t be home until almost six tonight. It was the one night of the week she worked an hour longer than normal.

Being so lost in his thoughts, the boy did not hear the rumble of the vehicle racing up behind him. It wasn’t until he heard the cry of delight piercing those thoughts that he turned in time to see the truck bearing down on him. Standing in the bed of the truck, their hands braced against the cab’s roof, he could see the laughing faces of Buck Hood and Andy Dwyer. He glanced into the truck’s cab and quickly recognized the rest of the passengers. They were the remaining seniors of the school’s baseball team: Jamie Winters, Clark Byrnes and Gerry Paige – and they were all laughing as the truck drew closer…

Randy was frozen. He could hear his heart thundering in his ears.

At the very last second, Gerry Paige yanked the steering wheel to the left and the truck swerved around Randy with a roar. Randy turned and watched as the vehicle came to a screeching halt on the blacktop. Frustrated that he could still feel his heart racing, Randy flipped his middle fingers up at the passengers in the truck’s bed and forced a ‘fuck you’ smile to his face. That smile faded, however, when Buck and Andy jumped from the bed of the truck and began running toward him. Their delight had turned to fury. Their intentions could be easily read across the space they were quickly crossing.

Without thinking, Randy bolted to the right and plunged into the cornfield. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him, uncaring that the dry, sharp stalks beat at his face like lashing whips. He pushed against the fronds that felt as if they were reaching out to wrap around him and hold him until his pursuers could catch up. Twice, he stumbled, his body lurching as his feet fought to correct themselves. His hands immediately went to the bag at his side to protect the package. He was running through the cornfield. If he could just make it to the center, or as close to the center as possible – he could yell for Mag. The man’s presence would protect him. Randy was sure of that.

When he stumbled a third time, the boy could not manage to remain upright. He landed face first in the dirt, his mouth open to exhale the grunt that escaped him and to receive the manure fed soil that sprayed up from his impact.

Randy lay where he fell. His ears strained against the sound of the applause created by the surrounding cornstalks at his dismal attempt to escape. The applause was all he could hear. Did that mean Buck and Andy had given up? Or did they know the cornfield better than he did and were merely hiding in the nearby rows? Slowly, Randy craned his neck and looked over his shoulder. Nothing moved behind him. Justly as slowly, he turned his head in the opposite direction and looked over his shoulder. Nothing moved there either.

Spitting soil from his mouth, he heaved a sigh of relief. Stiffly, he pushed himself up to his knees and exhaled three quick breaths through his nose to rid himself of the stench of manure. He hadn’t run – for any reason – in a long time. On the verge of laughing at the thought he had just out run the school jocks, Randy rubbed his face and winced against the flair of stinging pain under his hands. Gently, he ran his fingertips over the welts on his face and frowned. His mom would be able to see the welts if they were as big as they felt. She would be full of questions.

Hey there! Randy, is that you, son?

The eruption of the cheerful voice startled the boy from further exploration of the welts. It was Mag, somewhere close by. Randy began to search the empty row to his right as the sound of stalks rustling surrounded him. Suddenly, Mag stepped into the row where Randy still sat on his knees, a big, toothy (albeit a crooked toothed) grin on his scarred face. It had taken the boy awhile to control his reaction to Mag’s disfigurement, but eventually, he had grown used to seeing the grotesque face that always appeared with a smile when he came around.

What are you doin’ out here? Mag asked as he hobbled toward Randy. How come you’re sittin’ in the dirt?

I fell, Randy admitted as he accepted the meaty hand that had been extended to help him up.

What’d you do that for? Mag chuckled as he watched the boy brush the dirt from his front.

I was being chased, but I think I lost them.

Mag looked over Randy’s head and all around him quickly, concern flooding his fire-darkened features. Randy saw the look in his friend’s eyes and felt a flood of relief. He knew he was for sure safe now. Mag wouldn’t let any harm come to him.

Was it them fellas that’ve been givin’ you a hard time at school? Mag asked. Randy nodded and the man clicked his tongue in disappointment. Well, they’ll get theirs soon enough. Did you hear anything ‘bout the books yet?

Even better, Randy beamed. I’ve got them.

You do?

I do. I just picked them up today, Randy confirmed, patting the black book bag lying against his hip.

Woo-wee! All right! Mag clapped his large hands and danced an awkward jig in delight. Randy chuckled at the sight of it.

When do you want to start teaching me? I’ve got some time today. My mom won’t be home until six, Randy offered.

Oh, Mag stopped his jig and looked to the sky, squinting lashless eyes against the sun. We need more time for that. No, not today…

What about Saturday? This weekend? I’ll finish all my chores by Friday night so I can come over first thing in the morning. Would that be okay? Would it be enough time? Randy asked as he thought about what his mother had said she wanted him to do around the small house during his days off from school. Saturday was two days away. He was sure he could complete his mother’s list by Friday night. The boy settled hopeful eyes on Mag. The man appeared to be thinking just as hard about the proposal.

That might be all right, Mag said as he finally began to nod his head in agreement. For the first lesson, yeah, that should work just fine, Randy. Are you sure you can get away?

I’m positive, Randy promised. Mag beamed the big, crooked toothed smile at him again and clapped him on the shoulder.

Well, all right! I’ll see you Saturday, then. You won’t forget?

No! I’ll be there, Randy assured his friend.

All right, Mag said again with a nod. You start readin’ them books and I’ll show you everything you need to know. Everything my old granny showed me when I was a little boy, I’ll show you. We’ll show them boys just who they’re messin’ with, Randy. I promise you that! Mag called over his shoulder as he started to hobble away.

Randy watched him go until eventually Mag was swallowed whole by the outstretched fronds of the yellowed cornstalks. Happy that his friend was pleased, the boy turned and started walking the direction back toward the road. Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

2: The Game

He paced the dirt floor of the small shack he had taken his residence in. Excitement carried him back and forth from wall to wall. It was too easy, but then, it usually was when he finally found the perfect pawn and set his mind to cause mischief.

Mortals were so predictable. First, he would find the weakest link, the loneliest, most downtrodden soul to be his tool. Then, he’d fill that soul with the false hope of rising above the mice surrounding them. He’d feed that soul with an illusion of power, teach them a few dark spells to catch the attention of the unsuspecting and superstitious. He’d encourage them to feed at the buffet of imaginary power. He’d delight and cheer the extremes the tool would want to go to in order to make the others pay for their lack of care or concern. He’d push the tool closer and closer to the edge of madness until the town’s people decided something needed to be done to stop the chaos the tool was creating, to end the source of their new and mounting fear. At that point, he would step back – withdraw from the show - and stand in the shadows to watch the reversal of the tide. He’d still whisper encouragement, but he would no longer allow the tool to see him. He’d dance in mocking delight when the superstitious began to call upon the Divine for guidance and protection. He’d acknowledge the eventual appearance of the angel sent to intervene, but by then, it was usually too late for the angel to do anything more than attempt to calm the chaos. He would blow off the idea of the angel actually being able to counteract the darkness he had already stirred through the community. And when it was all said and done, he would simply walk away from it all with a hearty laugh and a shake of his head. That was the game. He always won.

The angels sent to balance him were morons. None of them were ever brave enough, strong enough or smart enough to thoroughly balance the scales. None of them ever figured out the one thing that could actually balance the chaos. Even if they did, Magroth could always count on their lack of bravery to prevent them from doing what was necessary to be all they were meant to be. He had seen so many come and go. They were inconsequential to his existence. He tended to ignore them once he measured their characters and found them lacking.

It had been awhile since he had stirred the pot. Decades, in fact. It was not so easy now as it had been in the old days. Villages were hard to find and even harder to rile up once he did find them. If there was a strong sense of community within the smaller places, there was no chance at all of slipping his spoon into the cauldron of chaos.

He had chanced upon the town of Battle Butte late in the spring. He had lurked in the shadows with every sense tingling in anticipation of finding the newest puppet. He watched the town’s folk. He watched the young ones wondering, for the few seconds he kept them in his sight, which of them was the weakest link.

Then, the