Reapers of the West End Book One Origins

By Sebastiaan Faasen

In 19th century London, The Grim Reaper Society West End is opened for one reason and one reason only. Hunting a single criminal. Headed by the Lord Sebastian Vander Kemp and Dr. Adriaan Kaarver, the groups one and only mission is bringing the rouge reaper, Andrew Craven to justice once and for all. As they follow his trail of dead prostitutes through the seedy streets, they uncover a scandal that will rock both the human and reaper worlds to their core.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sebastiaan Faasen
• Release date: Oct 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463058633

Sebastiaan Faasen

Sebastiaan Faasen is the author of the book, Starfire Sought, Book One in the Starfire Trilogy under their former name Mackenzie Slade. They are currently working on a new series of books called the Reapers of the West End with the first one due for publication in August. They are working on their Bachelors of Fine Arts in Creative Writing and holds an Associate of Arts in Media and Television from Pellissippi State Community College. They currently live in Flagstaff, Arizona

Book preview

Prologue

Lord Sebastian Vander Kemp stood at the cabinet of archived life records and searched for the second one he needed. He had found the first one quickly. It as new and had been set in the For Review drawer. Sebastian had also called ahead and Tome the archivist had made sure he knew where it was.

After a few moments Sebastian found what he was looking for. He walked back over to the table and set the record back on top of the file. He started to gather the files and records when the whole building shook. He looked up and then back at Tome who was now standing at his disk. The archivist shrugged. Sebastian finished packing and turned to leave when suddenly the ceiling of the archive room started to collapse.

He turned and saw a large chunk land on Tome.

Tome! he screamed.

He secured his bag and headed over to where the other man had been standing just a few seconds ago. Just as he reached him, a large slab of concrete landed on Sebastian knocking him to the ground and the air from his lungs. Crawling, he made his way over to the other man ignoring the pain in his face and head.

Tome the half demon archivist, was in bad shape. One of the ram’s horns on his head was broken. A large bleeding gash crossed his forehead. The other man was alive, barely conscious, and struggling to get up. His left leg was pinned under the slab of ceiling and a gaping wound was oozing onto the floor.

Sebastian grabbed the slab and pulled it off the other man.

Can you walk? he asked Tome.

I think so. The archivist answered shaky.

Sebastian pulled Tome to his feet. The archivist had a look of horror on his face.

What? Sebastian asked.

Your Grace, your face! the archivist croaked.

Sebastian reached up and touched his face. A large chunk of flesh was missing from his hair line to just level with his left nostril. Where the eye had been was a gaping hole. He shook his head. He would worry about that later. Sebastian looked around for an exit and spotted what looked like a stair well door. He pulled Tome in the direction of the door and kicked it open.

The archive as two floors below the rest of the building, so what ever had happened had to have been very large. Thankfully the partially detached stairwell was clear of debris. They made their way to the first-floor landing. The floor was clear. Sebastian set Tome down and checked the door leading to the lobby. It was blocked. Next, he checked the door leading outside. It was locked but clear. Sebastian pulled his death scythe from his belt, expanded it to its full length, and sliced the door to ribbons opening an escape route. He stored his scythe and went back for Tome.

He reached back and grabbed Tome. The other man was fading fast from blood loss. He pulled Tome to his feet and half dragged him out the door. They got roughly seventy-five feet from the door before neither man could go any further. Tome lay in the grass mumbling as Sebastian looked around them.

The main building of the Grim Reaper Society headquarters was in shambles. Large chunks of the white coated concrete were lay heaped upon each other, the floors pancaked as if hit by an earthquake. Sebastian figured they were at the back of the building, and no one knew they were there.

Tome. He spoke.

Tome just groaned. He was in a bad way.

I am going to look for help. Just hang on old man. Sebastian said patting his shoulder.

Sebastian stood on shaky feet. His own injuries were catching up to him now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He made his way left to what he hoped was the front of the building. A medic from the hospital facilities was standing next to a triage area. There were Reapers laying in various areas with varying degrees of injury. The medic recognized Sebastian and ran to his aid.

Your Grace! the medic said shocked.

Forget me, Sebastian half gasped. The archivist, Tome, he is behind the building. He has a bad head wound and is fading unconscious fast. One of his horns is broken as well.

The medic nodded and turned to some others in white uniforms. He spoke, but Sebastian could not hear what they were saying. His ears started to ring. The medic pointed to the general direction to where Sebastian had stumbled from, and the two men ran off with a stretcher.

The medic took Sebastian over to what he suspected was the most critical of patients and sat him down on a small cot. He looked at the wound and shook his head. He grabbed some bandages and started to clean and cover the wound. The medic finished the bandaging just as the bleeding, pale Tome was brough to the area and put on another cot.

In the next area, a young woman who Sebastian knew from administration sat numbly rocking back and forth. She had a cut on her cheek, and blood in her hair. The tip of one of her cat like ears was bleeding as well. The earring as missing. She looked over at Sebastian and started to cry.

Your Grace! she said, shocked.

What happened? Sebastian asked.

The young woman reached into her handbag and pulled out a cracked hand mirror. She choaked back a sob and handed the mirror to Sebastian.

Your face my lord. She said, whispering.

Sebastian took the mirror from her and finally looked. The left side of his face was a mess. The skin from the hairline to level with is nose was completely sheared off. He could see the bone and tops of his teeth. The eye socket was a deep black cavern with a single point of red in the center where his iris should have been. He placed a finger in the socket and felt the orb still floating in there. The vision was intact, but to all around him he looked like a monster. Blood ran down the bone and exposed muscle. He pulled the bandage back over the wound, handed the mirror back to the young woman, and fainted.

When he came to, Sebastian was being loaded into a hospital carriage. He turned his head to the side and noticed the Bailiffs carriage was next to him. One door was opened. The Bailiff, a large man named Mick, was pulling a slender bespectacled fellow all in iron gray by the arm. The other man was in shackles. He looked straight ahead as they were loading him in. At the last moment, he turned his head and saw Sebastian laying on the gurney looking straight at him. The other man turned his head away and climbed into the Bailiffs carriage. Mick slammed the door behind him.

Sebastian turned and looked up at the sky above him and started to wonder.

Chapter One

It had been six months since the incident. The building had been rebuilt, the dead had been moved on, the living had gone back to work. Dr. Adriaan Kaarver watched out of the window of his cell in the Justice Building as it all played out around him.

He sat back down on his simple bunk and picked up the copy of the book he had been reading. He was the only prisoner and was enjoying the solitude. He had not yet had a court appearance and suspected if he did it would all be for show. The who organization knew who had caused the incident, and none of them wanted him to see the light of day again. For him, that would have been a blessing.

He did regret his actions of course. He blamed it on the Thorns he has contracted on assignment and tried to convince his solicitor of the fact. They had stripped him when he arrived taking his customary long coat, trousers, shoes, shirt, and tie. They left him his socks and gave him a gray one-piece jumpsuit to wear. When they were sure he was not a suicide risk, again, they returned his long black ribbon to him so he could tie his hair up. After some argument, his solicitor had gotten them to agree to let him have his spectacles back. They naturally confiscated his death scythe. They did allow him some books to pass the time. Mostly medical journals and the occasional loose fiction. He was currently making his way through a book about a woman named Jane Eyre.

He heard the door at the end of the long hall open and checked the sun’s position to see if it was mealtime. They had taken his pocket watch, and he now had to calculate the sun’s location in the sky to tell the time. It was past breakfast and tea was another hour off, so he knew it was not that. He solicitor was not due until tomorrow so he could not fathom a guess as to what was going on.

A man who looked to be in his forties walked up and sat down on the bench outside of the cell. His cloths were fine cut. His waist coat was of a deep blue-black silk. His cravat was a deep blood read with ruby and diamond pin holding it to the collar of his fine linen shirt. His trousers were a good quality wool and cotton blend. Even his well-worn riding boots were of good quality leather. The man wore a large leather patch over half the left side of his face with a small mesh in to, supposedly so he could see out. He had on black spectacles with thin lenses.

The man pulled out a file from a worn but finely crafted leather bag. Figuring him to be another psychologist, Adriaan ignored him and went back to his book. He had seen so many, he made up his mind not to talk to any of them further. He had explained his situation and none of them seem to be listening. He was, in their eyes, just another oddity.

Sebastian finally got a good look at the Reaper known as Dr. Adriaan Kaarver. He was tall and lean with ice blue eyes, long iron gray hair held in place with a black ribbon. His half-rimmed glasses were silver, and the left lens was thicker than the right indicating stigmatism. He had a long scar in the shape of a thorn vine running from his left temple to just under his jaw line crossing his nose. His arms were covered in similar scars. The file had stated he was afflicted with Thorns while collecting the soul of his former fiancé who died from what they suspect was consumption.

The man had good taste in clothing. His garments being held in evidence for his sham trial were of fine quality Yorkshire wool, cotton, and silk. His shoes were high quality leather, and his death scythe was made of the finest steel with silver. The odd part was the skeleton that adorned it. The file said it was harvested from a grave in Cardiff, and no record of who it belonged to. It as female, that is all they knew.

The other man sat on his bunk indifferently reading what looked like a well-worn copy of Jane Eyre. He had been evaluated by so many doctors as of late, Sebastian was sure the other man thought he was just another medical man there to find out what made the Mad Reaper tick. Sebastian cleared his throat.

Can I help you? the prisoner asked.

More like, can I help you. Sebastian answered.

Physical or mental? Adriaan asked.

Pardon? Sebastian asked in response.

What kind of doctor are you? Physical or mental? Adriaan responded sounding annoyed.

Neither. Sebastian responded a bit taken aback.

Then why are you here? Adriaan asked.

Adriaan