Reaper vs. Ripper: Fear the Reaper Saga

By Stacey Rourke

History knows me by many names. Nyx, the Goddess of Night. Lilith, the Lady of Darkness. Selaphiel, the fifth angel of God. But the course of my life has been determined by my greatest mistake. I opened the gate and allowed Lucifer to fall. Booted from Heaven for my sin, I serve my penance as a reaper. By collecting history's most twisted souls, I work to one day earn my ticket home.

Case #663

The heinous crimes of Jack the Ripper are known throughout the ages, yet his true identity remains shrouded in mystery. Scythe in hand, it falls to me to claim his soul. Who he is, I don't care. What made him this way makes no difference. My lone goal is to ensure that he face final judgment.

Ring the bell and alert the Bobbies. It's reaper versus Ripper in a battle for the title of the true harbinger of death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anchor Group Publishing
• Release date: Oct 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215566800

Stacey Rourke

RONE Award Winner for Best YA Paranormal Work of 2012 for Embrace, a Gryphon Series Novel Young Adult and Teen Reader voted Author of the Year 2012 Turning Pages Magazine Winner for Best YA book of 2013 & Best Teen Book of 2013  Readers' Favorite Silver Medal Winner for Crane 2015 Stacey Rourke is the author of the award winning YA Gryphon Series, the chillingly suspenseful Legends Saga, the romantic comedy Reel Romance Series, and twisted fairy tale Unfortunate Soul Chronicles. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two beautiful daughters, and two giant dogs. She loves to travel, has an unhealthy shoe addiction, and considers herself blessed to make a career out of talking to the imaginary people that live in her head.  Visit her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/staceyrourkeauthor or on Twitter or instagram @Rourkewrites.

Book preview

Chapter 1

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Blackbeard slammed the rest of his tankard of rum, then fired one shot into the kneecap of his first mate. Blood spurting from his wound, the shrieks of Israel Hands ignited chaos aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge. Crewmen came running—some to offer aid, others prepared for battle with their weapons drawn. One glance at the scene and each face folded with confusion.

Planting his boot on the edge of the table, Blackbeard shoved his chair back and rose to his feet. He tossed his arms up, letting his voice boom off the creaking sidewalls of the ship. "Why would I inflict such pain on one of my own? Because if I don’t shoot a crewman from time to time, you will forget who I am!"

His men had the audacity to look shocked. Frightened, even. Ironic, considering all those they harmed at their captain’s command.

From the shadows of that grisly scene, I emerged. Hidden beneath the black shroud that embodied the mystique of my kind, I adjusted the grip on my scythe and stepped out into the flickering candlelight. Well, you could try to endear yourself to their hearts by being an outstanding leader. Or, you know, randomly maim some folks. Really, you can go either way with that.

Shocked gasps rose at the sight of me. Some among them crossed themselves in hopes a god they had long since forsaken would protect them. It was good that they were struck with a healthy dose of fear. It would make what came next easier. Planting the staff of my scythe against the weathered floorboards, I leaned against it and let the poison of my presence seep through the cramped quarters.

At the feminine lilt of my voice, Blackbeard’s top lip twitched into a snarl. Well, aren’t you a brazen lass for stowing away on my ship. Do you know what I do to women I find at sea?

I do. With my hood covering my features, I dipped my head in a deep nod. "But it’s so fucking classy, I would love to hear you say it out loud."

Closing in on me with heavy footfalls, Blackbeard brought with him the stench of booze and syphilis. (Yes, it has a smell. No, it’s not pleasant.) I strangle the life out of them, then toss them overboard to spare them from being raped and abused.

Had he been able to see beneath my hood, he would’ve watched me flip sky blue bangs from my eyes and offer him a tight-lipped smile that in no way masked my blatant disdain. "Look at you, the outstanding humanitarian! No wonder your wife fell so in love with you. How proud she must have been to call such a forward-thinking man her husband. That is, right up until the moment when you gave her to your crew. Tell me, Mr. Teach, how many times did she beg for mercy? Did you hear her call out your name? Begging you to save her from the grisly fate to which you fed her?"

"Aboard this vessel, you will call me Captain!" he roared, his face morphing into a mask of hatred.  

But we aren’t really here, are we? My head tilted, daring him to argue with my eternal truth. You died long ago and have been stuck ever since in an endless loop of your own sins. I must say, I’m impressed by how you managed to maintain the stench of vomit and rotting fish in this haunt. Rarely do I visit one that is quite this... visceral.

You’ll wish this wasn’t real when I’m through with you. Rocking back on his heels, the malicious pirate dragged his tongue over yellow teeth. You claim I allowed my own wife to be violated? What makes you think she wasn’t enjoying every minute? That she wasn’t mewing for more at the attentions of all those men? Maybe you need to try it for yourself and see?

Jabbing two fingers in his mouth, he whistled for his crew. The lot of them swarmed like sharks to chummed waters.  

With a sigh, I rolled my shoulders and let my shroud fall in a pool at my feet.

Some gasped.

Others grunted their appreciation.

Yet it was the wisest of them who took one look at my blue hair, dermal piercings, and tattoos and backed up a few paces. For damned souls, they were surprisingly astute.

I’m tired of having to breathe through my mouth on this rancid ship. Let’s get this over with. Turning in a slow circle, I beckoned the crew closer with a curl of one finger. So, who’s going to be the first to step up? I should warn you, this won’t go the way you think it will.

I haven’t seen a woman in three ports! A ruddy-faced scallywag with missing teeth and a scraggly beard shoved his way through the crowd to get to me. I’ll take me chances!

Clapping a hand on my shoulder, he spun me to face him. His tongue slapped hungrily over sun-cracked lips.

Offering him a sad smile, I laid my hand over his.

The air rippled.

Bells clanged.

The others could only look on in horror as his hand crumbled to dust and blew away in the stale breeze that wafted down from the decks above.

Gaping down at the stump of his forearm, a shriek tore from the mate’s lungs.  

Lifting one brow, I leveled the rest of the men with a glare. And that was just his hand. This is an excellent moment to talk about the importance of consent before touching a woman.

With no desire to wait and hear my lecture, they raced topside in a heavy-footed stampede that caused the ship to sway.

Only one remained... the infamous captain himself.  

Alone at last, I purred, twirling my scythe in one direction then the other with a roll of my fingers.  

Dragging a hand over his bushy beard, Edward Teach peered down his nose at me with palpable disgust. "So, it’s you then? The harbinger of death come to claim my long dead soul?