Reaper

By Mina Carter

The World after the End of the World will never be the same again…

Sanctuary. Clichéd name, but the sentiment is still the same. Ten years after the end of the world, ex-soldier Mason and a small group of humans defend their fortified town against creatures of myth and legend made real. But with dwindling game to hunt and a lycan pack in the area looking for an easy meal, just surviving is getting harder every day.

Andy has a few screws loose, and she knows it. She’s been on the road since the bombs fell and changed humanity forever. Driven by inhuman instincts, she tracks the newly and soon-to-be dead and dispatches their souls to the afterlife. Sometimes they go quietly, most put up a fight. She doesn’t care either way. Her ambition in life is to find her next hit of coffee and one day, maybe, sleep in a real bed again.

Then Andy’s instincts bring her to Sanctuary and its enigmatic leader, Mason, and even the world after the end of the world will never be the same again…

Warning: Contains a snarky female Reaper with a hair-trigger temper and a caffeine addiction, a hot ex-commando with an attitude and a twisted sense of humor and a happily ever after that defies death itself.

NB: This title has previously been released with another publisher

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mina Carter
• Release date: Dec 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386345930

Mina Carter

Mina Carter was born and raised in Middle Earth (otherwise known as the Midlands, England). After a slew of careers ranging from logistics to land-surveying she can now be found in the wilds of Leicestershire with her husband, daughter and a cat who moved in and never left. Suffering the curse of eternal curiosity, Mina never tires of learning new skills which has led to Aromatherapy, Corsetry, Chain-maille making, Welding, Canoeing, Shooting, and pole-dancing to name but a few. A full-time author and cover artist, Mina can usually be found hunched over a keyboard or graphics tablet, frantically trying to get the images and words in her head out and onto the screen before they drive her mad. She's addicted to coffee and Dairy-lea cheese triangles.

Book preview

1

T hey say she roams the old roads, looking for her victims. Human, paranormal…she don’t care. She’ll kill anything .

The raspy voice echoed around the half-empty bar. Like a chill wind it reached into the corners of the candle-lit room, found all those who were listening and pulled a shiver from the very depths of their souls. Forget the bogeyman, since the war people had learnt there were far more dangerous things than the pretend monster under the bed.

Those in the room listened anyway. Chair legs scuffed on the worn wooden floor, disturbing the sawdust scattered over its battered surface. Shadows crowded against the steel-grilled windows that showed evidence of the bars use as a last line of defense.

At the back of the bar, Mason snorted into his whiskey. Good old Fred. He sure did like his ghost stories, even if they did scare the crap out of the customers. Not that they had many. Normally the place was filled with locals. It had been that way since the world went to shit in a storm of fire and brimstone.

Mason rolled a mouthful of the amber fluid around his mouth, before letting it burn its way down to his stomach. Stuff would rot your gut, but hell did it have a kick, exactly what a man needed at times. He leaned back against the wall and swirled the rich colored liquid around in his glass as he watched the bar as a whole. After wandering in here six years ago, badly busted up from an altercation with a couple of Lycans, he’d gone from recovering patient to self-appointed town protector.

Right now his attention was on a group of youngsters at the other end of the bar who’d waltzed into town earlier. After scoring refills on their water bottles and a pack-load of supplies, they were living it up in the bar, full of bravado, and crazy-ass stories of escaping a nest of Vamps.

Mason had been up close and personal with a couple of Vamps, and they were tough bastards. It’d be hard, not impossible to escape a whole nest of the bloodsuckers, but you’d need surprise, skill and some fucking awesome luck on your side.

Two girls, three boys. Way too young to have survived on the roads. He pursed his lips, feeling the scar at the corner pull slightly. He remembered his days as a wanderer. It was a tough life. Practically everything out there wanted to screw you over, and eat you. Or screw you, and eat you. Or screw you whilst eating you…there were some kinky-ass critters out there.

He lifted his glass to his lips again. He never sat at one of the middle tables, preferring to keep his back to the wall with his gun free and easy by his side. Even in the supposed safety of the town Mason carried, locked and loaded. The light from the candle on his table caught the rim of his glass, twinkling in the corner of his eye.

He looked at the group again and caught his breath. Between the light spots from the candle and the flickering shadows cast by the other candles in the room, the group of visitors looked different. Changed.

It was a spilt-second, as though their masks had slipped a little and allowed him a glimpse at the creatures beneath. The one Mason had tagged as the leader turned around, looking around the bar with an assessing eye. Too assessing, and way too hungry.

Mason took another drink as though nothing had changed. But this time he didn’t savor the drink as it went down. Before the war Mason had been a soldier. A damn good one. In that life he’d seen lots of corpses, but he’d never seen one walk and talk until ten years ago. Like the one scanning the bar as if it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Ghouls. How the fuck had they gotten past the defenses? They had everything from warding sigils carved into the plaster of the walls under the hangings to a demon-trap painted on the underside of the floorboards by the door. The first drink of water visitors to the town were given contained a dash of holy water, and the cutlery they got was silver-plated. With all their precautions, the town was loaded for everything but bear.

His gaze flicked around the room. Just his luck, most of the locals were in tonight. A heavy sigh escaped his chest as he drained his glass. He fucking hated Ghouls.

Getting rid of them was always messy.

His lips compressed as he placed his glass on the table in front of him. Seeing an empty, Valerie, the bar-owner, headed over. Her hips swayed as she walked, and there was a smile of invitation on her lips as she approached.

All done there, sugar-bun? Want me to get you another?

No, thank you, I’m good. Listen, V, I need you to start moving people out. His voice was low and firm—completely at odds with the brilliant smile he flashed her. Anyone looking their way would assume the two were flirting, which was exactly what he wanted.

Valerie’s face dropped. Aww, no… Those kids? You gotta be kidding me, Mason. They’re barely old enough to be out on their own.

Exactly. They aren’t old enough, or anywhere near tough enough. They’re not human, V. Don’t be fooled by the cute mask they’re wearing. Otherwise next week it might be your Suzie’s.

Valerie’s face went stony. The only thing that made her madder than a bunch of wet hens was a threat to her daughter. Mason had no idea what had happened to the kid’s father. He’d never asked. Out here, no one did. Everyone had a past they would rather forget, things they’d had to do to survive. Most of the time those things didn’t make for a good night’s sleep.

Give me five minutes, I’ll get it cleared. She started to turn, and then paused to look back at him. Make it quick and clean, would ya? The girls look scared, like they don’t want to be here. Plus, it took me weeks to get the bloodstains out of the floor last time, and I’m all out of sawdust.

Mason nodded, pitching his voice a little louder. Sure thing, sweets. Leave it to me.

His tone was friendly and flirtatious. For good measure he leaned over and swatted Val on the ass as she passed him. She squealed in delight, wagging her finger at him as she headed back to the bar.

Throughout the room the locals carried on drinking, or talking, but he knew they’d caught the signal. The last time he’d flirted with a woman and meant it, mankind had a future, not this squalid mess they were trying to survive in.

The evacuation didn’t take long. As soon as Valerie had dropped another glass off at his table with a wink, there was a slow, but determined exodus. The non-combatants left as the rest found reasons to go talk to friends on the edge of the room.

Except old Fred, who sat on the table next to the Ghouls. It was his favorite spot. The table never moved. It couldn’t, it was riveted to the floor. Even now Mason knew that Fred’s finger was on the trigger of the shotgun rigged underneath it.

Lady of Death? Ohhhh purlease, old man, that’s just a kid’s tale. Like the bogeyman, one of the Ghouls scoffed. Mason had already tagged him as the leader. Loud and obnoxious he was the sort Mason would want to waste even if he was human.

You wanna be careful, sonny, Fred warned. He was an odd choice for a front man, but he was one of Mason’s best. A crack-shot with that gun, he looked like everyone’s favorite grandfather. No one suspected Fred, even if his life depended on it.

Oh yeah, Pops. Why’s that?

The Ghoul spun his chair around to face Fred and straddled it. The skin between Mason’s spine itched. He’d seen what Ghouls could do. They could rip a man apart with their bare hands without breaking a sweat. The instant the kid looked like he was even thinking of making a move towards Fred, Mason would put a bullet between his eyes.

"They say the lady sees all, and knows all. There’s no way to escape her. Don’t matter if you don’t believe in her, as long as she believes in you."

Mason watched Valerie busying herself at the bar out the corner of his eye. She was wiping glasses, her attention seeming to be half on the conversation going on and half on her work. He knew better. By her left knee, next to the defunct cash register there was a fully loaded rifle. When the shit hit