Reaper

By Hickory Mack

She's destined to change the world...

Elsie stayed under the radar for four years, but now the hunters have found her. They want her back, and they’ll go to extreme lengths to make her into the Clan’s personal reaper. They tie her life to that of a dangerous wolf demon and cast a curse that will kill her if she refuses to cooperate.

Forced to assist the hunters in vile acts, Elsie’s morals go to war with her desire to live.

When her mates start showing up, including a man she rejected in the past and a woman who can be whomever she wants, everything changes. They won’t let her give up, and together they'll work to free her from the Hunter Clans.

Along the way they discover that there's more to Elsie than any of them could have guessed. Her choices have to potential to save the world from a bigger threat. The Earth is dying, along with one of her mates, and Elsie has the power to change it.

Reaper is third in a shared universe, and closely tied to the Taming the Elements series. These are the same Hunters who have made Chiori's life a living Hell. Many characters cross over from one series to the next and events from both series will directly influence each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hickory Mack
• Release date: May 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005073886

Book preview

Prologue

Elsie walked through the dimensional door she’d created and stepped on Earth’s soil for the first time since her mother had returned for her. She slid out of the way so her mother, the Goddess of Death, could follow. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, reveling in the heavy, earthy scent of fresh rain.

An unfamiliar ache centered itself in her chest, right above the chakra point. Elsie rubbed it with a pained expression. She was the daughter of a goddess and a fae king. Physical pain wasn’t something she was accustomed to these days.

What is it? Santisima asked, watching Elsie neatly close up the tear between dimensions so nothing would leak through to either side. Elsie looked up at her mother and grimaced. She knew exactly what was causing the pain.

It’s my mating bond, Elsie complained. I thought it was broken, but after all this time, it’s still there.

The goddess gave her a gentle smile. It means that neither of you have given up on the other. You should think about what that means for your future. The hunters have no sway over you now. You can go to him if that’s what you want.

Elsie looked into the woods, her pale eyes haunted. It’s been six years since we last saw each other. He probably hates me.

I seriously doubt that’s true. Santisima rested a hand on her shoulder. It’s been six years for us, on Molta, but it’s only been one for him. He hasn’t had as much time to move on as you have. If you give him the chance, your mate may forgive you.

Elsie looked at the ground, biting the inside of her lip. Saint might forgive her, but she’d never forgive herself. She still hated herself for what she’d done. She’d been cruel to him when she sent him away, forcing him to leave by threatening both their lives if he refused. Her closest friend, the only person she’d trusted with her life, her lover. Although six years had passed on her end, she’d continued to miss him every single day.

How could I face him now? She shook her head. He deserves better. Someone who will fight for him.

A mating bond was a rare and wonderful thing, for those who wanted them. The bond didn’t exist in some species at all, but for witches, it was a lot more common. It brought together magical pairs based on compatibility, and how likely they were to love one another.

They weren’t meant to be broken, but they could be, if either or both were against the pairing. The bond wouldn’t thrive and would eventually die. It’s death was physically painful, and would leave a mental scar for the remainder of the pair’s lives, a forever reminder of what they’d given up. There was another way. The way Elsie had taken. It was abrupt and brutal and fast, a full rejection of a mate.

She’d failed. As hard as she’d pushed Saint away, their bond hadn’t been entirely erased. A small part of it stubbornly held on, trying to pull them back together again.

Santisima didn’t comment, but when Elsie looked up at her, she saw the condemnation in her eyes. Her mother never approved of negative self-talk, and Elsie had 27 years of the habit under her belt. Santisima had spent a lot of time trying to push the habit out of her youngest and final daughter. The last reaper.

You must not let fear of scenarios created in your imagination stop you from finding happiness, the goddess said after a long moment’s pause. "If you do, the future you deserve will be lost. Take my advice, mija. Think about the good that could come of it instead of the negative."

I’ll try, Elsie said, though she wasn’t sounding particularly confident.

Santisima looked at their surroundings for a time, then turned back to her daughter. Where will you go from here? Now that your training is finished, you can go anywhere and do anything you wish. There is nothing on this or any planet that can hold you back.

Elsie knew that most of her sisters had taken many years to wander the universe when they’d finished their training, and the majority of them had never stopped their travels. They went where the wind took them, punishing the souls most deserving of their attention. There were hundreds of reapers, but they were so spread out, they were a rare sight, on Earth or anywhere else.

I haven’t decided yet, Elsie said. Part of her wanted to go into hibernation until the pain in her chest faded and she could breathe properly. Another part wanted to travel, while yet another wanted her to find Saint and reclaim him as her own. All of those desires were at war with each other inside of her head.

There’s no need to rush the decision, her mother assured, petting her hair before opening her arms. Elsie stepped into Santisima’s embrace, resting her head on a soft shoulder.

Where will you go? she asked, knowing this was goodbye. There was no way of guessing when she’d see her mother again. The Goddess of Death was even more transient than her daughters. Santisima kissed the top of her head, continuing to pet her.

One of your sisters is in need of guidance. Her heart is in a dark place, and I’m afraid that if no one steps in, she will be lost. I will go to her and help her through this time in her life. From there, who knows? She smiled. You know how to contact me if you need me. Even if you don’t feel it, I’ll always be keeping an eye out for you.

I know you will. Elsie squeezed her mother before she let go. She’d spent so many years of her life living among the hunters, and her mother had known everything she’d been through.

I have a gift for you, Santisima said with a smile. Holding her hand out, a scythe materialized, the same scythe the goddess had used for the past several centuries. The weapon had become an iconic piece of the goddess’ mythology. Elsie’s eyes widened as she took a step back, shaking her head in denial.

Mother, I can’t accept this, she nearly stuttered. Santisima ran her hand fondly over the scythe’s staff, then pushed it into her daughter’s hands.

This is not an ordinary scythe, the goddess said. Its name is the Staff of Sanaia, and it once belonged to the first elemental witch, an elf who possessed all seven elemental magics. This was her staff, her magical conduit, and her weapon. It can take the form of any weapon you wish; the only limitation is your imagination.

Elsie held it reverently. It was so much heavier than she’d expected. But why me? she questioned. Out of all my sisters, why would you choose me?

Because you are the one who will use it to change the very fabric of this world, Santisima said, and Elsie shook her head at her. Her mother was always saying strangely cryptic things like that, but she never explained anything, no matter how much Elsie asked. You must become so familiar with the staff that it shows you its true form. You only have until the year of the lamb to master this.

When is the year of the lamb? Elsie asked, mystified. It was the first time her mother had mentioned it.

I cannot tell you, but you will know it when it comes. Elspeth, it is very important that you be ready before then. Santisima held her gaze, her dark eyes pressing the importance of what she was saying into her heart.

Why can’t you just tell me what it is I need to be ready for? Elsie asked, exasperated by all the secrets.

You will build a coven of legion and bring magic back to this world, Santisima answered, the most she’d ever given away. Elsie’s brows knit together. Coven of legion? Magic? The world already had magic!

That doesn’t even make any sense, she complained, and her mother smiled.

I’m sorry, my darling, it is all I can tell you. If I tell you the rest, nothing will go the way it needs to. Everything you must do, must happen because you choose it to happen. Any guidance on the matter, and you will fail.

Fail? This isn’t fair! How can I be expected to succeed in whatever this is if I haven’t been told what I need to do? Elsie asked, frowning in frustration. "You’re expecting too much of me, mi madre."

I have already told you what you need to do. Try not to worry about it too much, Santisima said. She kissed her daughter’s forehead. I believe in you, Elspeth. You have everything you need inside of you. The next time we meet, you will have changed the world.

Chapter 1

Three years later

Elsie lit the first dish towel on fire and casually walked away. She’d tied two of them together to give the flames a little extra time before reaching the gas tank, so there was no need to hurry. He really should have known better. Driving an antique vehicle using gasoline instead of one outfitted to take advantage of solar power was just asking for trouble. It was practically a miracle the thing still worked.

She stood on the crumbling sidewalk, which barely deserved the name anymore considering the concrete was reduced to gravel in some places. Facing a butter yellow, cookie-cutter ranch house, right in the heart of their tiny human town, she waited. The yard was well kept, with an assortment of hardy miniature bushes and a trimmed lawn. It was the perfect place for a rogue boar demon to hide in plain sight, and he’d certainly done his best to fit in. Until now.

She bounced on the balls of her feet in anticipation. These were her best shoes, plenty of sole left to give her better traction. For her plan to work, she only needed to make it three and a half blocks. The boar lived just outside of the main strip of the tiny business district, making this easier on her.

Light from the dish towel was still visible in the dark, so she figured she had a few seconds. Elsie took a small pendant of a black-robed figure from beneath her shirt and kissed it, a habit she’d picked up over time.

Mother, protect me, she whispered, her nerves prickling. The air took on that heavy quality it sometimes did when something frightening was about to happen. A kind of tingly instinct warned her to be ready for anything because something was about to go wrong. She was made for these moments. Elsie’s senses expanded, taking in every sound, her vision sharpening and allowing her to see the trails of magic coming in and out of the house.

It was a special talent of hers. Though it was only part of what made her the best, it had made her highly sought after during her time with the Hunter Clans, back when she’d been captain of the top squad. She could identify any magical creature by the bits of magic they left behind everywhere they went, and it allowed her to track anyone that needed to be found.

Thwump. His car exploded. Heat from the blast struck her, whipping her hair back and rumpling her clothes. Glass rained down, sticking in Elsie’s hip-length blue hair. She’d started growing it out the day her mother had taken her back from the hunters. She didn’t react to the blast. Even vehicles as old as this one had special glass, designed with safety in mind. It wouldn’t cut her.

Her eyes remained trained on the front door, a deep oak color, with an oversized brass knocker. She slipped a raven mask over her face. It was decorated with sugar skull designs she’d hand-painted. Her mother’s words rang in her ears. ‘You are an executioner, my dear. Always cover your face, so those you condemn cannot curse you.’

The door opened and Samuel Appleton stepped out, his eyes glued to his preciously expensive, antique sports car. A commodity pretty much anywhere, but especially so here, in this little place. Enough so that Elsie had wondered how he’d even gotten his hands on the thing.

Cars were great for showing off around town, but they were useless outside of their village. The roads connecting Providence to the nearest town were filled with cracks, wash-outs, and landslides. It hadn’t taken nature long to reclaim her land when human civilization had crumbled. Most people around here had bikes or motorbikes, which were far more versatile.

His first reaction was disbelief. Samuel’s hands went to the top of his head in a pretty decent imitation of what a human would do if he suddenly found his car had exploded. His jaw dropped open, and he sputtered out a few noises, unable to form actual words. Elsie tilted her head and waited, watching his reaction with interest. He stood outside his door, staring at his vehicle, actually stumbling back a step.

After a few moments of scrambling, the disbelief faded, replaced by growing anger. Samuel threw back his head and screamed at the sky, stomping across the yard toward the car. Already, his piggy eyes were a little smaller, a little further apart, a little less human, confirming what she already knew. He was slipping.

Elsie flicked open her lighter, then clicked it closed. Samuel jerked his head around at the slight sound, his demonic hearing focusing on her. Tusks jutted out of his lower jaw, and the hair he’d so carefully dyed black faded to a dull grayish brown as it thinned, pulling back into a sparse, wiry mohawk.

You did this? Samuel hesitated for only a second as he realized exactly who had come for him. Then he let out a bellow, lowered his head, and charged after her. Elsie mentally ticked off the first objective on her list of things to do that night. ‘Make Samuel Appleton so angry he loses his ability to use reason. Check.’

Elsie turned on her toes in a move she’d learned from early hunter training and bolted, feeling an uncomfortable pull on her calf. She was out of practice. There hadn’t been anything to hunt down in months, and it had made her lazy. Luckily, her body knew what to do, and the adrenaline kicked in as her brain told it they were being chased by a murderous demon, helping her hit a full sprint before she crossed the neighbor’s driveway.

Boars were tricky, and they tended to be pretty temperamental. Almost every boar she’d ever come across was intelligent enough to be intimidatingly formidable. However, their power types and levels fluctuated so greatly she was never entirely sure what she was going to encounter when engaging with one.

They were considered lesser demons, though she’d heard of one male in the South that had transcended the label. One ornery little piggy powerful enough to become a Lord if he so chose. As far as she knew, he had not made that choice.

Elsie was only glad she didn’t live in that area. There were some insanely powerful demons in the South, which was where Samuel claimed he was originally from when she interviewed him upon his arrival. But the boar was nowhere near the level of that singular legendary beast.

She was pretty sure Sam was more along the lines of the ‘fighting with brute strength’ type, rather than the ‘turn the Earth itself against her’ type. Something he verified by chasing her rather than attempting to grind her to dust with his magic. Which was exactly why this plan would work.

She spared a glance back as she ran, already starting to feel the burn in her muscles. Damn, she needed to run more often. Samuel was right behind her, his face contorted with rage. Good.

There were only a handful of demons in their tiny town in the western backwater reaches of what used to be Alaska. Most of the non-humans living there were lesser demons, barely worth the time it took for Elsie to investigate them and find out why they were there. She kept a catalogue of every magical creature in the area, demon and otherwise.

Usually, they did what they could to blend in, as they were typically there to avoid detection in the first place. Providence was one of a handful of places left unmolested by the demon Lords in the South. They were too small of a population and too far away from regular civilization to be bothered with. The majority of demons who came were transient, only staying a few months before moving on their way.

Samuel was a full-time resident and had arrived shortly after Elsie. He’d been there for the entire three years she had lived in Providence Village. The folder containing his file was relatively slim, considering what he was.

Sam kept to a daily routine. He had a coffee and a bagel every morning at the café before going to his job as an accountant, and he did a great job maintaining his vegetarian diet. Most demons were completely vegan, with the exception of snacking on the odd weaker demon here or there, and human flesh when they thought they could get away with it.

Elsie dictated a strict set of rules they had to adhere to in order to be allowed to stay in her town. Just like the demons, she was there to avoid a specific group of people, and so far, it was working. They hadn’t figured out where she was, and that was how she liked it.

A quiet town with no demonic activity was summarily ignored, and she’d kept it that way for three years. Until several weeks ago, when Mrs. Gracey’s elderly black cat went missing. That cat rarely left Mrs. Gracey’s front porch, where he could be found sunbathing every day. Elsie had tracked him down, only to find what remained of him. A couple of fractured, hollowed out bones in Sam’s backyard.

She’d watched him closely after that. Like she didn’t have anything better to do, with her full-time job as a meditation and self-defense instructor, as well as painting commissions she was weeks behind on already.

Samuel hadn’t appeared to be behaving any differently. Usually, when a demon living a flesh-free lifestyle took and consumed a life, there were obvious changes—aggression from the influx of power, a pungent scent in their sweat, dilated pupils—but he exhibited none of them.

Though she continued watching him, Elsie had let it go. She had no tangible evidence other than the location where the cat’s body was found. There hadn’t been any further incidents in a month. Until this morning.

A young child was reported missing. She’d gone to school that morning but hadn’t come home. The news had only reached Elsie an hour ago, and after a short bit of investigating, she’d discovered that Samuel hadn’t gone to work. She found that whenever a demon was involved, there were no coincidences.

Her feet pounded the pavement. Elsie rushed past the single screen theater and skidded into a turn, taking her into the alley between the town’s only theater and the family-run café next door. Behind the two, blocking off the alley, was the back wall of the old fire station.

A dead end.

Samuel was hot on her tail—she could almost feel his moist, stanky demon breath on the back of her neck. He let out a squeal of excitement when he saw where they were, and she grinned. Sam thought she’d made a mistake. He thought he was going to win. He thought wrong.

Elsie kept running right up the wall, kicking off and doing a backflip then spinning so she landed behind him, facing his back. A puddle on the ground reflected a dim, flickering light above them, and Samuel’s eyes glittered when he turned to face her. She held out her hand, and the silver charm from her bracelet responded. In seconds, the impossibly heavy charm in the shape of a spear became the real thing.

We had a deal, Sam. You could stay here so long as you didn’t call attention to yourself. What the hell were you thinking? Elsie demanded, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. His beady eyes narrowed, but he looked away.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Huntress, he grunted, his words muddled and distorted by his tusks.

Don’t you? I tracked her right to your house. If she’s still alive and you tell me where she is, I’ll give you a painless death. If you choose otherwise, well, let’s just say I’m not opposed to a good evisceration. She slid the spear into an offensive position, the tip following him as he swayed side to side. You’ve pissed me off, pig. This stunt of yours is going to lead them straight to us.

Maybe to you. I’ll leave you nice and trussed up for them. By the time they find what’s left of you, I’ll be long gone. While they were talking, Sam’s fingernails were hardening, sharpening into weapons. His round, human-shaped ears now protruded, wiry hairs sticking out from within, and his human feet had shrunk into hard cloven points.

I’m giving you one last chance, Sam, and only because I actually kind of liked you until now. Where is the girl? Elsie asked again.

Why do you even care? You’re no longer a member of the Hunter Clans. We both know you have no legitimate reason to come after me.

Elsie’s brows knitted together; she hadn’t told anybody in this town that she’d ever been associated with the Clans. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one doing her homework around here. She’d have to add checking his house for information on her to her list of things to do, and by the sound of people shouting in the direction of his house, she’d have to mess with time a bit to do this right. Elsie frowned in irritation. Time manipulation wasn’t her greatest talent.

Fae blood was tricky that way. There was no guarantee the child of a powerful fae would be as strong as her parents, and Elsie was only half. Her fae blood gave her physical strength, but it hadn’t given her much of a boost with magic. That came from her mother’s side.

"If the kid is still alive, I can alter her memory, make it look like she wandered off and got lost. We’ll call it a nearly tragic accident, frightening enough to warn young children away from the woods, but not enough to attract their attention. Where. Is. She?" Samuel leaned forward with a grin as though to tell her a secret, his glittering eyes holding hers, and Elsie gritted her teeth.

"I ate her, and I have not one single regret. The beastie was tender and so delicious. When we’re done here, I’m going to go finish sucking the marrow from her bones," Sam said, his grin widening while he talked. Elsie’s heart dropped with his confirmation. The child was dead. She’d been too late to save this one. She looked down in disappointment, then back at him just in time. He charged forward, his meaty hands curled into claws, swinging at her face.

In the second before he’d moved she’d seen his muscles bunch together, his weight shift, the quick glance of his eyes. All clear warnings, telegraphing his next move. He thought he was being clever and sneaky, but she was ready for him.

Elsie jabbed at him with her spear. Sam had the strength, but she had the range. He danced out of her way, cursing and spitting at her feet. Once he was out of reach, Elsie gripped the shaft of her weapon in both hands and gave it a twist, shoving alchemy magic into it.

The spear widened, the shaft rounding out into a wickedly spiked club. It wasn’t as long as the spear, but she could put a lot more weight behind her swings. That feature alone easily made it her favorite weapon for when some dung heap of a demon had pissed her the fuck off. She rarely broke it out for lesser demons, but Sam had successfully crossed the line.

Seeing his chance while the weapon was changing, he charged again. Elsie raised a knee and hit him in the gut, but she wasn’t able to avoid his claws. They raked across her forearm, tearing through her thin jacket and taking three even slices out of her skin.

Damn it, Elsie hissed. It had been far too long since she’d sharpened her reaction time by fighting demons. She’d gotten slow. She certainly hadn’t missed the sting of poison eating away at her flesh. It was a fun little feature of some demons’ claws.

Blood soaked her sleeve below the slashes in the fabric. It was early August, and the mosquitos had just hatched. She couldn’t afford to lose her jacket just then; the little fuckers loved her. Elsie growled with irritation and brought the club down, flinching back as Sam threw another punch.

Boars were notoriously tough—the thick-skinned bastards—but even though she was off her game, Elsie had the advantage. The club connected at the same time as his fist with the side of her head, and she felt his bone shatter. He’d given her a glancing blow, but it was still enough to make her momentarily see stars.

The squeal he let out was so loud it might as well have been a scream. Elsie swayed where she stood, but she shook it off faster than he did. Taking advantage of the second of relief his pain provided to get her head on straight, she stood over him, ready for her next attack.

"You filthy little bruja!" he grunted, and Elsie swung again. He was smart enough to dodge out of the way this time, and she was smart enough to know that his injury wasn’t enough to count him out.

She smirked at the rage in his eyes. He wasn’t even good at insults. Why did men always go for the obvious? Little? He wasn’t wrong; she was only five foot four. Her Latina heritage did not include a lot of tall in the genetic makeup. She considered it a fact, not an insult.

Bruja made her smirk grow into a smile. He had no idea.

Elsie twirled the club in her hand, skipped a step forward, and swung. Sam tried to move out of the way, but he ended up slipping in the puddle she’d successfully avoided. It wasn’t as easy to keep his balance on cloven feet. He went down, and she smashed her spikes into his shoulder. Another bone shattered, and Samuel squealed in pain. She hit him again, breaking his knee, then straightened, looking down at the boar with a sneer.

Kneel, she demanded. Her weapon had started to glow with the bright silvery-blue light of ethereal magic.

What? I can’t—

I said, kneel.

Elsie used her alchemy once more. The shaft of her club lengthened, the spikes flowing together, and it became a spear, though a bit different than before. The pointy end wasn’t quite as long. Samuel looked up at it, his beady eyes widening in fear, then the blade of a scythe slid into existence and he lost all color in his face. Her weapon could take any shape she could imagine, but only one form would do what she needed.

No… he whispered.

"Oh, yes. You’ve been lax, stupid cerdo, to not have realized it sooner," she scoffed. As Elsie spoke the words in the ancient language that would bind him, a circle of runes the same color as the glow tracing the edge of her blade surrounded Samuel.

Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll leave town, and you won’t have to be afraid of the hunters coming. I won’t kill any more kids, I swear, Samuel tried. Elsie frowned. She hated it when they begged, when their entire demeanor changed the second they realized they’d lost and what kind of creature they were facing.

You’ve misunderstood. I’m not afraid of the hunters; I just despise them. They’re annoying as fuck, she said, swinging her scythe not at Samuel, not yet, but into the air above his head. The atmosphere sizzled with her power, and she ripped open a hole into another dimension.

A stiff, hot breeze came through along with a purple glow and the distinct coppery scent of blood. The scent was overwhelming, even for her. She couldn’t imagine what it was doing to the demon’s heightened senses. Elsie fixed Sam with a smile. This was one of her favorite hell dimensions.

Please, you don’t have to do this. I didn’t know you were a reaper!

Runes lit along the edge of her blade in that same silvery blue of the ethereal, and Elsie’s pale lavender eyes lit from within, taking on an inhuman shine to match.

"Samuel Appleton of the Southwestern Boar Tribe, I find you guilty of taking the life of an innocent and disturbing the peace of my town. The price of this crime is your life and your soul. I sentence you to an eternity in the hell dimension of my choosing, to be carried out immediately," Elsie decreed.

She didn’t give him the chance to beg any further; she didn’t want to hear any more excuses or lies. The blade and the spear changed positions, becoming a war scythe with a long, wickedly sharp pick, rather than the classic reaper shape of lore. Elsie hefted the scythe in one hand and moved smoothly forward. It sliced through the air in a graceful arc, severing the pig’s head with a single blow.

It hit the ground with a wet slap, and his body slumped over. Her magic transformed him, showing the world what he really was behind what remained of his glamour. Samuel was a stinking, horrible boar demon with greasy, wiry hair covering his body. His knees had twisted around the opposite direction into the hocks of a pig, and his tusks grew even further, accentuating what he was.

Elsie twirled her scythe around and let it collapse into itself, using more alchemy to condense it, forcing its atoms into compliance, creating a charm with intense density. She clipped it back onto her bracelet and waved her hand across the air in front of her, closing the portal into the hell dimension and trapping Sam’s soul on the other side. She personally knew some of the demons there. They’d make sure Sam had a great time during his stay.

A stiff breeze reminded her of the holes in her jacket, and Elsie frowned once again, inspecting it. Maybe she could get one of the local biddies to fix it for her. If she could get the blood out first. She slipped the raven mask off her face and tied it at her hip, one hand gripping her necklace before taking it off to glare at the figure of her mother, a woman of many names.

Some called her the Lady of Shadows, the White Lady, or the Lady of Night. All called her Santa Muerte, the Lady of Death. Elsie had known her as Santisima, or simply, Mama.

Elsie’s mother had been a powerful bruja in her youth. Sanctified, revered, and worshipped for her vast magical abilities until she ascended by the will of her followers. As a goddess, she was Death. She was the mother of all reapers, and Elsie was her final daughter.

She’d never met her father—some asshole fae king with a thing for dangerous witches. When he’d tried to kill her mother, he’d attempted to kill Death. Of course, Santa Muerte wasn’t the only creature with dominion over the dead, but she was among the most powerful and the most beloved.

Santisima had not been afraid for her own safety. She could handle most of the fae, even if he was a king, but she couldn’t fight him and keep Elsie safe at the same time. So, to her great sadness, she’d sent her last daughter to be raised for a time by the hunters, temporarily sealing her ethereal powers.

Elsie touched the dark markings at her throat. The seal had been temporary, but the markings were permanent. Before her mother returned and released the ethereal within her, she’d only been able to work with her light moon magic, completely ignoring the dark moon magic that came from her father.

Most magical creatures and witches used magic associated with one or two of the elements. One of the three moons, the Earth, fire and water, even air. A rare few took their power from the sun itself. Then there were the ethereal, all the powerful beings that the other monsters of the world were afraid of. They were the reapers, the hellhounds, and the shadow walkers, among other things. There were shades, too. Creatures so strong even the reapers had trouble with them.

Her mother had been incensed when she’d returned, dressed in black robes of protection, to find that instead of protecting her as they’d promised, the hunters had turned Elsie into one of them. They’d been at the mercy of an enraged goddess, who then took Elsie back.

She’d spent six years in training with her mother, learning how to use her ethereal magic. Becoming familiar with other dimensions was still something that gave Elsie great joy. Santisima had literally opened entire worlds for her to explore.

She gripped the Staff of Sanaia in her hand, feeling slightly guilty. She hadn’t given the weapon as much thought as she should while hiding out in the human town. She rarely used it at all.

You will need it when the time comes, Santisima had said cryptically, refusing to explain herself. You will understand when you need to understand. I need you to promise me you will continue your training. Keep yourself safe and avoid those who would do you harm. You are important to this world, Elspeth.

Elsie wasn’t entirely sure what her mother had been talking about but decided it had something to do with the hunters. Leaving the Hunter Clan wasn’t something one did lightly. Most did not survive the attempt to run, and Elsie knew that better than most.

It wasn’t long after that conversation that Santisima had disappeared again, this time leaving Elsie completely alone.

That was the year she’d turned twenty-seven. Three years had already passed since she’d last seen her mother, with no word or whispered rumors of where the Lady of Death might be. Elsie held her mother’s image over her arm, showing the figure her wounds. She firmly believed that wherever she was, Santisima was watching over her as she always had.

You didn’t protect me! She swung the necklace around in several circles, then looked again at the corpse she still had to clean up. She hated dealing with this kind of crap. She’d rather be snuggled up on her couch, eating junk food and reading a book. Elsie pouted her bottom lip then sucked it back in and spun on the spot, leaving the nasty beastie where he lay.

Somebody would report what had happened here, and those irritating hunters would arrive soon enough to investigate the missing child and the car she’d blown up. Things like that didn’t happen in small towns like this, especially not on the same day. They’d have to come, and when they did, they could deal with the corpse.

When they discovered the threat was already taken care of by a reaper, the hunters would hopefully leave town instead of looking for her. They would have no way of knowing which reaper had done it. Elsie sighed, turning down Main Street and heading toward her postage stamp-sized one-bedroom apartment. She needed a big, fat sandwich. A tumble in bed with her current lover, Mara, a pretty blonde with voluptuous hips and kissable lips, wouldn’t hurt either. Then a good long sleep.

She looked at the figure of Santisima, the onyx reflecting the light of the full red moon ominously, like her mother was trying to warn her about something. Yeah. Life was never that easy.

Chapter 2

The grocer that her apartment was situated above moonlighted as a place to buy various cooked foods on the side. The menu changed wildly from one day to the next, depending on what Mrs. Cutler felt like cooking that morning. Her choices were often made based on what stock needed to be used before it spoiled. The positive was the variety. The negative was she was unlikely to make the same thing more than once or twice in a great while.

Elsie breathed in the scent of something spicy and shushed her grumbling stomach. Mrs. Cutler was a great cook, but her arm was covered in blood and her body was bound to be bruised from her fight with the boar. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself, especially while carrying her mask around.

Reapers were nearly as frightening to the general population as demons themselves, which wasn’t all that surprising. They weren’t as common as hunters, and even they had a healthy fear of her kind. There was only about one reaper for every few thousand hunters, and then there was the whole ‘Priestess of Death’ thing. Elsie rarely came across other reapers. When she did, they were always the kind that had needed to train hard their entire lives to be what they were, not those who were born into it, like she was.

She knew she had dozens of siblings out there somewhere, but she’d yet to meet any. The Lady of Death had borne daughters to become reapers and sons to guide souls through reincarnation. Elsie didn’t consider any of the bastard children her faerie father had running around out there to be kin. Not that she’d met any of them, either.

A wooden set of stairs attached to the outside wall of the market allowed Elsie access to her apartment without having to go through the store. She climbed them with a heavy feeling she couldn’t place, squinting when she noticed how dark her windows were. It was possible the light she always left on over the stove for Frida, her cat, could have burned out, but that didn’t feel like the right explanation.

Elsie slid her key into the lock, but she didn’t bother turning it. She twisted the handle and pushed, waiting outside for anything that might come barreling out of there. She never left her door unlocked. Not once. Someone either was—or had been—in her apartment. A familiar thud came from within, then a quick shuffling step came at her in a creamy brown blur. The cat climbed Elsie’s clothes and nestled its head under her chin, making small chirping noises.

It’s okay, Miss Kahlo, Elsie murmured, snuggling the kitty close. Frida wasn’t a normal cat. Elsie had found her in a human-laid trap out in the woods shortly after moving to Providence. It was obvious she’d been there for days, and when Elsie had picked her up, she was lifeless, unable to move. The poor kitty had been straddling the line between life and death, and even with her ability to shove souls back into their bodies, Elsie had barely been able to save her.

Elsie had gone back into town and demanded answers. There was no good reason for trapping, it was a cruelty and a travesty, but no one had been willing to tell her what they did with the animals caught in those traps. They certainly weren’t wearing the furs, and she doubted they were eating them. These traps were for weasels and the like. She’d gone on a personal campaign, hunting down and destroying every trap for miles.

Nobody had ever reported it, though she knew there were rumors that people suspected her. For a while, new traps had replaced those she’d ruined, and there were even cameras placed in front of some of them. Foolish. They were pitting themselves against a bruja who could literally stop time and continue moving around in the absence of it. She still went out a couple of times a week, but she hadn’t found any new traps in months. They’d finally given up, though she’d never figured out what the humans had been doing with the animals they caught.

It had taken Elsie weeks to nurse Frida back to health, and her brush with death had changed her. She’d become an alebrije, a spirit guide. So, sometimes she looked like an ordinary long-haired house cat, while others, she was something else entirely. For now, however, she was presenting herself as a cat.

Once she’d healed, Elsie had made it a habit of taking Frida on outings with her whenever possible. She taught meditation with the cat in her lap and jogged through town with Frida draped across her shoulders. She’d gotten many comments on her strange pet, but not one person had ever asked her where she’d gotten it.

Frida wasn’t as upset as Elsie thought she’d be if there was still someone in there. She peered into the darkness and sighed. There was only one way to find out if they were still in there. What a pain.

Elsie walked in, flicked the living room light on, and kicked the door shut behind her. She saw them out of the corner of her eye and inwardly groaned. There was no way they’d have arrived that quickly in response to Samuel, which meant they’d tracked her down, and this was personal.

She sent her senses out into the apartment, getting an idea of who was in there and who wasn’t. Mara hadn’t come over yet, thank the Gods. Her lover was sweet, but so innocently human. She wouldn’t have known what to think or do if she’d encountered the men Elsie felt inside. There was a considerable amount of power between them, meaning the hunters had chosen among their strongest to send to her. However, strongest didn’t always mean they were the best.

She hung her keys up on the nail in the doorframe and dropped her jacket on the stool next to the door. Then walked past them, straight into the bathroom without so much as a glance in their direction. If they wanted to talk, they’d just have to wait their damned turn.

Flicking on the light, she rolled up her sleeve and examined her cuts. Two of them were pretty deep, and though the poison coating Samuel’s claws wasn’t particularly potent, it was preventing her body from starting the usually accelerated healing process that was a perk from her father’s side of the family.

She’d have to scrub the wound clean. Elsie opened the medicine cabinet and fumbled through its contents before finding a bottle of saline and some gauze. Gritting her teeth, she rinsed it with the saline first, the salty water bubbling as it made contact with the poison.

She focused on the cat winding its way between her legs, rubbing up against her, refusing to make a sound. She didn’t want those bastards inhabiting her living room to hear a single moment of her weakness. Elsie rinsed it again, letting the pink tinged saline go down the drain. When it stopped bubbling, she used the gauze to scrub the wounds clean.

The pain left her light-headed. Elsie gripped the edge of the sink and closed her eyes, breathing slowly, then carefully bandaged her arm, only to keep any more blood from dripping. With the poison cleaned out she could heal now. Even the deepest of the three cuts would be closed by morning, and the scars would fade to nothing within a week.

Elsie took her shirt off and walked into her bedroom, tossing it into the hamper then pulling on a black tank top and a pair of sweatpants. Fuck the hunters. She’d make herself comfortable in her own house. Pausing in the doorway Elsie scowled, realizing she’d left her phone in her jacket pocket. Since Mara wasn’t already here, she’d be on her way soon.

Elsie’s lip curled upward. She needed two things: food, and for Mara to be nowhere near this mess. Though not in that order. She sauntered out into the living room, Frida doing her damndest to trip her. Digging in her jacket pockets, she had a second of panic before remembering she’d slid the phone into the inside pocket. Taking it out, Elsie turned right back around and went into her kitchen.

She thoroughly enjoyed that half a squad of trained killers were just standing there like a bunch of idiots, waiting on her. They had so many damned rules to obey, including waiting for the target of a diplomatic mission to start the discourse. They wouldn’t speak to her until she spoke first. The theory was it gave the target a feeling of authority in the situation, and would make them more comfortable in negotiations. She considered it all a bunch of psychological bullshit.

Elsie quickly texted Mara, explaining that something had come up and they couldn’t hang out. She only hoped her lover wasn’t close. Mara liked to walk over instead of taking her bike.

Opening the fridge, she stared balefully at its meager contents. She hadn’t had time to do the shopping as she’d planned. Muttering about child-killing demons and their inconsiderate timing, she took out the remains of the chickpea salad she’d whipped together the night before. There was just enough for a sandwich and a small treat for Frida.

Pouring herself a glass of water, she took a long, satisfying drink. She’d installed a filter she’d created herself to remove all the chemicals intentionally added to the water supply. It was easier for the humans to survive a demon-run world with their sanity intact if they were drugged. She stood at the counter then hopped up to sit on it while she slowly chewed her dinner, planning out her next move.

There were five of them out there, silent as the grave. They were dressed in the differing robes of their classification within the Hunter Clans. She hadn’t seen everything in her peripheral vision, but one of them had been wearing a deep golden yellow and another a rich forest green. These men weren’t ordinary grunts in a low-level squad that took orders without question. They’d brought a healer and a fucking mage, dressed in deep red, into her house.

Elsie sighed and plucked a petal from a cluster of marigold plants she kept in a pot on the counter. She pinched it in the fingers of one hand while holding her necklace in the other.

Santa Muerte, give me clarity of mind, she muttered. The marigold took on a bright orange glow before she released it, the petal floating into the air then vanishing in a tiny flame. Elsie didn’t bother asking for protection this time.

She knew what her mother would say. I gave you the Staff of Sanaia and taught you how to use it, for Goddess’ sake. Protect yourself.

Her phone pinged, and Elsie picked it up to check Mara’s response.

Mara: Is it because I’m running late? You’re not mad, are you?

Elsie: No, babe, it’s nothing you did. I have to deal with something unpleasant right now. I’ll explain later, okay?

Mara: Oh. Okay. Later, then.

Great. That would be fun to navigate. Mara could get unreasonably pouty and sullen when she felt rejected. The girl was good in bed, but she was starting to get a little too needy.

Elsie hand-fed Frida a few bits of the salad and watched the kitty hunker down and eat it while purring loudly. She’d been watching them with her magic as she ate, but the hunters hadn’t moved. They were clearly here on a diplomatic mission, which meant they wouldn’t engage her until she acknowledged them. They wouldn’t want to escalate the encounter into something violent, which was smart on their part.

She wondered why they’d only brought five. Whoever had sent them would have known it wouldn’t be enough if they provoked her into a fight. She’d spent her time among the Hunter Clans as one of their elite, and she’d learned a lot since leaving.

Elsie finished her sandwich and licked her fingers clean. The alebrije inspected her hands to make sure it was all really gone. She loved people food.

Well, what do you think, Miss Kahlo? We may as well deal with this now, or they’ll never go away. Elsie pressed her lips together irritably and scooped the cat into her arms before hopping off the counter. The weight of the weapon on her bracelet was a comfort, reminding her of her strength.

Walking back into the living room, she flopped into her favorite chair as though she were completely unbothered by the men taking up all of her available floor space. Her apartment was pretty dang small.

She scowled up at them. Yes. A healer, a mage, two assassins, and a geographer. They were a squad, after all. She’d worked in one just like it. She grimaced when she noticed she knew their tracker. Son of a bitch.

You know, breaking and entering is illegal around these parts. We value our safety, privacy, and security around here, she started. Not that it’s considered polite anywhere else…

There was finally some movement among them, and though their faces were mostly hidden by the hoods of their cloaks, she could feel their unease. Once she looked at their magic trails and realized she recognized their healer too, her heart gave a squeeze. That magic was as familiar to her as her own. They’d brought Marley with them, but it wasn’t her that spoke first.

We didn’t technically break anything, the geographer said, his familiar voice grating against her nerves. Look at him, a real field agent now. A job she’d never thought he’d actually land. It was a miracle they’d let him back into the elite squads after what he’d pulled.

Using magic to open the lock counts, Callum. She rolled her eyes. I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Marley. What the hell do you guys want? Maybe you missed the memo, but I’m not the Hunter Clan’s monkey on a leash anymore. I refuse to dance on their orders.

Marley didn’t respond. She stood silent, looking at a space on Elsie’s wall, which made her curious. Did Marley resent her for leaving so suddenly? Or was it something else? She thought of the tension building in her squad during her last two years with the hunters and pressed her lips together. The healer had never fully trusted her again after she’d taken a demon as her companion, and it looked like their time apart hadn’t softened her attitude.

We’re not here with orders. It’s well known that you are a free agent. Callum looked at her suspiciously. It was unheard of, and she was sure those higher up on the chain hadn’t made it clear why she’d received special treatment. We were sent with a request from Commander Grant.

She didn’t know who that was; General Mordane had been in charge when she’d left. Elsie’s lip curled involuntarily. Someone near the top wanted something from her. She almost dismissed them just for that. Unfortunately, sending them away would only delay the inevitable. That wouldn’t be the end of it, and she knew it. Fuck.

What does Commander Grant want?

He would like you to work collaboratively with the hunters. We have a new facility in the South, whose security measures include being in an alternate dimension as a safety precaution. The heightened security is due to the types of creatures being held there, Callum explained. Elsie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. That didn’t sound like anything she wanted to be a part of.

It’s already built? she questioned, adjusting Frida in her lap. The cat stared at the intruders with narrowed yellow eyes.

Yes. Everything is ready to go, Marley finally spoke. Elsie looked toward the healer, starting to wonder why they’d specifically sent two people she was familiar with. Maybe to put her off her guard? Or maybe they’d been hoping seeing a familiar face would help sway her decision…

Then you already have a reaper working with you and have no need of me, she stated the obvious. They couldn’t have built the damned thing without someone opening the door in the first place. My guess is you guys weren’t paying her enough?

Reapers willing to work with the hunters were few and far between, and those who would be willing would charge a premium. With how few were out there in the universe, some of her sisters were known to be swayed by material comforts. Callum shook his head.

We fairly compensated Muriel. She was killed by one of the test subjects, he said, and Elsie’s skin crawled. Apparently, she was lured into trusting him over several weeks, and she began spending more time with him. He killed her.

What kind of facility is it? she demanded, stung to hear that she’d lost a sister she hadn’t even had the chance to meet. Just hearing the words ‘test subjects’ hardened her resolve to refuse them. She’d seen more than enough of what their experiments did to creatures. No matter what they offered, she wasn’t interested.

It is exactly as it sounds. A testing facility housing some upper-level demons. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you any more than that. It’s classified. You will be privy to more information when you are contracted to the job, Marley stated.

Oh no, there won’t be any contract between us. I’m not stupid, she snorted. Any contract with the hunters wouldn’t be a mere signature on a slip of paper agreeing to terms. It would be magically binding. You sound awfully familiar with the subject, Marley. What was my sister Muriel killed by?

Like I said— Callum started.

I asked Marley, not you. Do you really think you can convince a reaper to work for you without at least knowing what she’s getting into? Elsie scoffed. You’re dumber than I thought, and that’s saying something.

Callum let out a deep sigh. It was a satyr.

Elsie laughed but sobered quickly. The allure of a satyr and others of his classification like fauns, incubi, and sirens, could be overpowering to weaker creatures. But not reapers. Sex magic didn’t affect them.

He must have been in a terrible state for one of my kind to feel badly enough to form an attachment to him. What were you doing to him? she asked.

That’s classified.

Of course it is. What exactly are you wanting me to do for you? Play door woman? Open this dimension on demand? She raised an eyebrow expectantly. That sounds unpleasantly boring to me.

That’s part of it. There are actually two facilities, connected through a gate. There are four gates in total. You would also be charged with bringing us creatures from other dimensions, Callum stated.

For your… experiments. She left that hanging between them, not hiding her disapproval of what they were up to.

Correct. There is another creature we are anticipating, pending a successful capture attempt. We’ve been working on him for several years now, actually. We will need help containing him as we transport him to the facility, Callum explained.

"You plan to capture a creature the entire Hunter Clan cannot contain without help, and you expect me to do it for you? She laughed again. It sounded to her like they were running out of options if they’d come to someone they knew hated everything about them.. Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?"

Muriel did it multiple times, Marley told her. Elsie frowned. It sounded a lot like this Muriel woman had been worked to death, and it made her wonder what they’d had on her to convince her to stick around. Elsie didn’t have much interest in becoming a puppet.

We have people stuck over there, Elspeth, Callum said impatiently, finally showing a little emotion. She glared at him. Few people other than her mother dared to call her by her full name, and Callum damned well knew it. Please, we need your help.

Why me, specifically? There are plenty of other reapers out there that you could ask. I’m pretty sure most of them are a hell of a lot closer to your little operation than I am. You’ve come a long way to get turned down.

You spent most of your life among the Hunter Clans. You know how we work, and you know the creed, rules, and laws we live by. You owe who you are today to us, and we don’t think you’ll turn us down, Callum said heavily. Elsie stood and stretched, letting Frida climb up to perch on the back of the chair.

Look, it’s been great catching up, but I’m going to ask you to leave. You’re wrong, Callum. I owe who I am today to my mother, who taught me what your superiors didn’t in over fourteen years. I refuse. I don’t care how much you’re paying, she said, nodding toward the door. You can see yourself out.

That’s when she made the second biggest mistake of her life.

Callum reached up to pull the forest green hood down, and when she glanced his way, the mage moved. He crossed the tiny living room in two long strides and wrapped his hands around her wrist, muttering something under his breath. She sucked in a sharp breath, and her other hand came up to punch him square in the face. He stumbled slightly but wouldn’t be deterred, his lips moving fast.

What the fuck? Elsie growled, trying to yank her hand away. He held on tight, his magic glueing her feet to the floor. Frida yowled, a loud, angry sound that dropped to a hiss.

Elsie’s eyes widened, darting from the strange mage to Callum, her expression dripping with incredulity. Marley carefully avoided her gaze. Nobody attacked a fucking reaper if they didn’t want to be dumped in a hostile hell dimension. They must have insurance of some kind. Protection.

Her wrist grew unbearably hot, and then the mage stepped away, rejoining his brothers as Elsie looked down at her wrist in confusion. There was a seamless silver cuff clasped there. She tried to slip it off, but it was too tight, and there was no way to get it off.

You’ve got thirty seconds to tell me what this is all about, she growled, snatching the scythe from her bracelet. It expanded to its full size, giving weight to the threat she hadn’t spoken. One of the assassins had the good sense to take a step back, his eyes widening. What the hell did you do?

We know from experience how difficult it is to convince a reaper to help us, Callum said bitterly. But it just so happened that we knew of one who has recently parted ways from her powerful parent. A parent who controlled the most frightening beast in the land.

Elsie knew exactly what he was talking about, but she didn’t see how it was