A Grave Full of Stilettos: Reapers in Heels, #3

By Jason Krumbine

There's something brewing in the reaper community. Something dangerous. Something sinister.

Stanley Morris is a loan shark. A low life. A thief. A con man. A man of questionable ethics and morality. He is also a lover and a fighter.

Up until six months ago he was Brooke Graves' boyfriend. Most of the time.

However, for the last six months, Stanley Morris has been in a coma and Brooke has been wracked with confusion and guilt. She didn't know what to do with her life. She didn't know how she felt. All she knew was that Stanley Morris was in a coma and that it was her fault.

But eventually Brooke came to terms with her decisions, with her life. She was ready to move on.

And then Stanley Morris woke up.

But he isn't Stanley Morris anymore. He's someone different. He's someone who's more monster than man and the monster is in control.

A war is coming. And before it's over, the living and the dead won't ever be the same again

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Krumbine
• Release date: Oct 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393571643

Jason Krumbine

Jason Krumbine loves to write! He's happily married and lives in Manhattan, NY where he enjoys reading in Central Park, going to movies and discovering new stand-up comedians. You can connect with Jason at either his website, www.jasonkrumbine.com, Facebook, Twitter (@jasonkrumbine) or good ole' fashion email [e-mail]. He's always up for a talk about the newest Star Trek movie or what's happening in the world of comic books and TV. 

Book preview

Chapter One

Lucy-

No.

Aw, come on.

No.

Just…Come on!

What part of no are you having a hard time with? The ’n’ or the ‘o’?

You know, there’s something about your tone that’s starting to make me feel like you don’t want anything to do with me.

Lucy Fabian was a short blonde with an even shorter haircut. Her mother always chastised her for cutting her hair so short, saying that it made her look like a boy. Lucy always countered with the fact that she had inherited her mother’s voluptuous chest. Nobody was going to mistake her for being a boy, no matter how short she had cut her hair.

The man chasing after her as they made their way down the halls of Saint Mercy’s was a second year intern who went by the name of David Chadwick. He was tall, ridiculously so. More often than not, he had to duck to enter rooms. Despite the constant look of earnestness on his face, he was actually known as something of a Lothario around the hospital.

To say that Lucy and David were dating was a generous use of the word dating. It was more like they had had a series of intimate engagements that foolishly led to dinner with Lucy’s parents.

Lucy stopped abruptly just before the nurses’ station and turned around to face David. The move was so abrupt that David nearly tripped over himself.

You should probably not do that, he said. Or, at the very least warn somebody before you’re going to just stop like that.

She looked up at him. Lucy liked her men tall and they didn’t get any taller than David. At least, she hoped they didn’t. There was almost a nine inch difference between them. It didn’t sound like much. But she had gotten a stiff neck more than once when they were making out.

Lucy poked him in the chest forcefully. "You called my mother a milf."

David held up his hands in self defense. Hey, that’s supposed to be a compliment. You don’t use that term and it not be in a complimentary fashion.

And yet, I’m not feeling very complimented. She glared at him.

Well, technically it was a compliment for your mother. So…

If Lucy’s eyes could have turned red and blasted out laser beams, David would have been a smoking corpse.

He took a step back. Okay, I’m not sure how this is a bad thing, he said.

If I have to explain it to you, David, then it’s going to be that much worse. She shook her head and resumed walking down the hallway.

David stood there for a moment, scratching the back of his head as he tried to figure out where everything had gone so horribly wrong. After a few seconds he hurried after her.

She stood outside room 310, checking her clipboard.

I didn’t say it to her face, David tried to explain.

Lucy shot him a dirty look. Is that your idea of making this better?

David frowned, making his puppy dog eyes as big as possible. Is it working?

No!

Then absolutely not. He shook his head.

Laura growled at him. "You’re an idiot. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking bringing you over for dinner!"

She stepped into the room.

To be fair, David said, following her. I did say that it was probably a bad idea.

Yeah, I thought you were being charming.

I was, wasn’t I?

"Right up until the moment you called my mother a milf."

Which was after dinner, he pointed out. So, technically, I think I should be given some credit for dinner.

Lucy whirled around back on him again. "Technically? When my father asked how we got together, you told him about the time we hooked up in the supply closet after working two doubles!"

That is when we got together, though, isn’t it? David asked. I mean, we weren’t a couple before that. Am I missing something? I feel like I’m missing something.

Lucy’s face turned bright red as she gave another frustrated growl. She gripped the clipboard so tightly David was pretty sure she was going to snap it in half. "That’s not what you say to my parents! I am never going to be able to go home again."

"Well, I don’t think it’s that bad."

Last night I had a nightmare of you sleeping with my mother! she snapped at him.

David held up his hands in self defense. Okay, I could see how that might make you feel a little uncomfortable.

"You think?! Lucy just shook her head. You’re an idiot. I’m an idiot."

Then we’re perfect for each other.

Shut up.

This could make for a hilarious story to tell our children someday, you know.

Lucy smacked her forehead with the clipboard and groaned loudly. Please just stop. Go away. Go far, far away.

I’m just trying to make this better.

Well, you’re failing miserably. Congratulations.

David threw his hands up in defeat. Now I’m really confused.

I’m not talking about this with you anymore.

Well, there’s an argument to be made that you’re not actually talking about it with me right now.

Lucy bit her tongue and shook her head, pulling back the privacy curtain around the first bed. She willed herself to be a little more professional. Not that the patients on this floor necessarily cared one way or another how professional she was. But she did.

Also, on the oft chance that coma patients did hear what was going on around them, she really didn’t want any of them hearing about how she had a bad habit of giving out blowjobs in supply closets before the first date.

What the hell? she muttered.

What? David peeked around her.

The bed was completely empty.

Lucy checked her clipboard again. What the hell? she repeated.

The bed’s empty, David said, trying to be helpful.

She glared at him. Yeah, I can see that, asshole.

Okay, well, ouch.

She checked the clipboard again. The bed’s not supposed to be empty.

Lucy walked back out to the nurses’ station. Hey, Shirley, what happened to the guy in room three-ten?

Shirley, an older black woman, looked up from her computer. As far as I know, nothing happened to him.

Well, something clearly happened to him, Lucy said. Because his bed is empty.

Shirley checked the computer and shook her head. There’s nothing here. Last check was last night at ten. Everything was normal.

Seriously?

Shirley turned the monitor around so Lucy could see for herself. Right there.

Somebody messed up.

Shirley shook her head in that way only an older black woman could. Well, it wasn’t me.

Maybe he woke up, David suggested.

Both of the women just looked at him.

What? He held up his hands. It happens.

Coma patients just don’t magically wake up without anybody knowing, Lucy said.

I didn’t say he magically woke up.

"Well, considering he’s been in a coma for the last six months without any change in his condition or response to typical stimuli, I don’t really see any other option than it being magical."

It could be miraculous.

She just glared at him.

David scratched his nose. Maybe he just magically disappeared?

Lucy pinched her nose and took a deep breath.

Boy do you know how to pick ‘em, Shirley said.

Remind me to tell you how dinner went with my parents, Lucy said.

"Oh, this should be juicy."

"He called my mother a milf."

Shirley literally clapped her hands together like a gleeful child.

Not to her face, David added. He looked at Shirley and repeated, I didn't say it to her face.

But Shirley didn’t stop bouncing around in her chair. Hon, that don’t make it any better, she said laughing.

Why is this now a thing you’re sharing with everybody? David asked. A second ago you didn’t want our children to know.

Shirley finally started to calm down with a few deep breaths and looked at Lucy, but she didn’t say anything.

Lucy sighed and nodded her head. Yeah, it gets better. She turned back to David and handed him the clipboard. Make yourself useful.

I feel like now I’m being punished.

Lucy smiled. Finally, you’re understanding something I’m saying.

He looked down at the clipboard. But I don’t want to be punished.

That’s usually how it works.

I don’t think I should be punished.

I didn’t ask you.

To be fair, if there were things you didn’t want me to say to your parents, you probably should have mentioned that before you let me have dinner with them, David said. So, in a way, you might even say that this is your fault.

Shirley started laughing again. "Oh, this is rich."

Lucy took another deep breath and tried really hard not to smack him. When she felt like she had achieved a modicum of self control, she said, David, I’m not losing a coma patient on my watch. So please, find out what happened to Stanley Morris.

Chapter Two

So. Bryce Arnold just let the word hang there for a minute. He didn’t follow it up and instead watched the woman sitting across from him, waiting for her reaction.

It was the middle of the afternoon. Bryce was seated with the prettiest woman in the diner. She had long brown hair and soft features that needed no makeup. And normally, she hung on his every word. Or, at least had the courtesy to pretend to. Instead, right now, Avery Graves just stared down at her empty plate. If she had heard Bryce, she gave no indication.

This wasn’t the reaction he had been hoping for.

Bryce cleared his throat loudly. He was in his forties and his short, salt and pepper hair made him look a little older than that. He had a George Clooney appeal about him: mature, yet ageless. Handsome, sophisticated and fun. It was the hair, of course, that made the age difference between him and Avery most noticeable. Or just noticeable enough.

The sound of Bryce clearing his throat still didn’t catch her attention.

He sighed and snapped his fingers in front of her face. Hello? Earth to Avery? Anybody home?

Finally he had her attention.

Avery looked up, brushing the long brown hair out of her face. Her light blue eyes were unfocused for just a brief second, as though she had been lost in some distant memory. But it passed and her attention was fully on Bryce again. I’m sorry.

He held up his hand. It’s okay.

No, it’s not.

Hey, don’t worry about it, he said. It’s not like I was in the middle of telling you this moving story about of the last time I saw my dad before he died.

Avery made an awkward face. I’m the worst.

You’re not the worst.

You’re sharing with me and I’m off in la-la land.

He shook his head. It’s really not that bad.

And to make matters worse, you’re being super nice about it. She dropped her face into her hands and groaned pitifully. "I’m the worst."

Bryce looked around the small diner, but nobody was paying them any attention. Yet.

Please stop, he said, reaching across the table and gently lifting her head out of her hands. It’s really not that big of a deal.

She frowned. If you were doing this to me, it’d be a big deal.

That’s a horrible way of looking at things, he said.

I don’t think so.

Why don’t you just tell me where your mind was at? he suggested.

Avery shook her head. No. You were telling me a story. You were sharing a memory. We were having a moment. She placed her hands on the table and looked him in the eyes. Please, finish.

Avery, you’ve obviously got something on your mind, he said. What’s on your mind?

Well, right now, I’m thinking about what kind of horrible person I am.

And before the self flagellation?

Avery hesitated and then shook her head. Nothing really.

Nothing?

Nothing.

You were completely zoned out, Bryce said. I happen to have it on good authority, that this story about the last time I saw my Dad alive, it’s gripping stuff.

This isn’t helping me.

Seven out of ten times I tell the story, there’s not a dry eye in the house, he continued.

Okay, well, now I’m wondering about the authenticity of this story.

And you were completely zoned out, he finished. Completely. I’m pretty sure a herd of dancing elephants could have pranced through here and you wouldn’t have bat an eyelash.

Oh, I don’t know. That would have been a hard sight to miss.

My point, exactly. He sat back and held out his hands. Come on, Avery, talk to me. What’s on your mind?

She didn’t answer. Instead, Avery sat back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head. She was dressed in a white t-shirt with a pair of giant ruby red lips plastered across her chest, and faded jeans. Her breasts hiked up as her arms stretched back.

Bryce just sat there, arms folded, watching her eyes.

Avery sighed and sagged forward in her seat. If it’s worth anything, I immediately hated myself for trying to do that.

He nodded. "I guess it’s worth a point or two. Look, Avery, I’m not a mushy guy. In fact, my ex-wife is my ex-wife specifically because she didn’t like the fact that I wouldn’t communicate about my emotions more often. So I want you to understand, that this isn’t the sort of thing I necessarily feel comfortable talking about. But what’s going on?"

Avery tried to play dumb. What’s going on?

He shook his head, not buying her act. Where are we going here?

Avery checked the time. Well, I thought there was a real possibility that we were going back to your place for a little afternoon delight. Seeing as you’re comfortably well off and I don’t have any dead souls to hunt down. I mean, that’s usually how these afternoon dates go down.

Exactly.

She sighed. Bryce…

He shook his head again. No. Look, like I said, this isn’t my strong suit and I’m the last guy to turn down a fun time. But I’m starting to feel like this is going to move past just being a fun time and I’m not sure that’s something you want.

I told you I just got out of a longterm relationship, Avery started.

That was six months ago.

Has it been that long already?

He gave her a small smile. How time flies.

And I told you, all those many, many months ago, that I wasn’t looking for anything serious, she continued.

Which is every man’s dream, he said. Which is also why we’ve kept this to afternoon get-togethers. Because apparently nothing says ‘not too serious’ more then a light lunch and then sex.

At least that’s what my sister says, Avery muttered.

Which, he continued, is why I’m not complaining.

This is you not complaining?

But, it has been six months.

And you want to know where this is going?

He shrugged. I don’t know that I’d use those exact words. It’s kind of mushy for my taste. But it’s certainly one way of putting it.

She paused for a long moment. Yes, it has been a little longer than I originally anticipated.

He gave her a raised eyebrow.

That might have made me sound a little more like a slut than I really am, Avery said quickly. Because I’m not. That’s my sister.

"I’m familiar with her M.O. But since this was supposed to be fun, I haven’t actually met her, Bryce said. So I’m only familiar through your stories."

Avery threw her hands up. I don’t know, Bryce. Is there something specific you want me to say? I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t want to sound like a cliche, but I kind of had a broad plan for how my life was supposed to go.

How broad a plan?

Well. She shrugged. I tried to leave a lot of wiggle room in it, but let’s just say I didn’t anticipate being back on the market.

Bryce just frowned at her.

Okay, you’re right, she said. This isn’t supposed to be a pity party for me. You’re not my girlfriend.

I’m kind of wondering if I’m even your boyfriend.

"I think you are?"

That doesn’t fill me with confidence, he said.

You should know that I’m not thrilled with the tone of my voice in that answer, either, she assured him.

Avery, he started.

Hey, up is down. Left is right. My life is basically inside out. She caught herself before she could go any further. You know what? No. I’m not gonna do that. That’s not the kind of woman I want to be. I’m not going to blow this out of proportion.

I want to say something like, ‘that would be a first for womankind.’ But I feel like I have the upper hand here, Bryce said.

You’re funny, you know that?

He nodded. As a matter of fact, yes I do.

Modest, too.

He shrugged. So there are some things I don’t want to argue with a pretty girl about. I don’t know if you noticed this, but I’m not exactly a spring chicken here.

You’re also not exactly eligible for the senior citizen discount, she countered.

That’s true, he agreed. But I’m also old enough to know that I probably shouldn’t be fooling around like this for too long with a woman like you.

Avery raised an eyebrow. Like me?

You know what I mean.

Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.

We’ve gotten looks, you know.

Please, it’s not like you’re twice my age, she said.

No, but it sure looks like it.

Now I have no idea where this is going, Avery confessed.

I just want to be absolutely clear that I’m not taking advantage of you.

The thought never crossed my mind.

And I want to make sure that you’re not taking advantage of me.

Avery just sat there with a smirk.

I’m being serious.

She sighed. I know. Look, I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention to your story.

That’s not what this is about.

She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. But that’s about as much as I can give you right now. Can you work with that? That’s all I’ve got to give right now. So can that be enough? Just for now?

Bryce watched her for a moment. Her eyes were completely focused on him this time. He turned his hand over and wrapped his fingers around hers, squeezing. Yeah. Sure. I can do that.

Avery smiled. Thank you.

Thank you.

Why am I getting thanked?

Bryce gestured for the waitress. You’re a pretty girl who’s feeling conflicted about her life and slightly guilty for ignoring me.

Yes?

He smiled. It’s gonna be a good afternoon.

Avery laughed. She couldn’t help herself.

Chapter Three

Brooke Graves swore loudly.

The man who’s face was between her legs didn’t think anything of it. So he stayed his course.

When she swore the second time, he realized that her tone was off. He stopped and looked up at her.

What’s wrong? he asked.

Brooke pushed her hair back out of her face. She was laying naked on her bed in her tiny studio apartment. The man who had his face between her legs two seconds ago was just as naked. He was handsome in that Abercrombie store model kind of way. His face often had a rather vacant look that was usually either filled with an expression of self satisfaction at a job well done, or just blank confusion. Right now, it was the later.

Brooke swore a third time. What in the name of all that is right and holy and sexual are you doing down there?

He looked down between her legs and then back up at her. What?

Don’t answer my question with a question, she snapped. What. Are. You. Doing?

What I always do.

Really? Because I doubt that. I very much doubt that. Because if you were doing what you always do, I’d be having a damn orgasm right now, she said. Not feeling like you’re just using my vagina as a gym for your damn tongue!

He frowned. I don’t understand.

What’s not to understand? What the hell are you doing down there? she snapped, propping herself up on her elbows.

Instinctively, he looked back down between her legs. I don’t understand.

"All you have to do is one thing."

I’m doing what I normally do, he said, looking back up at her. What I always do.

"Really?"

Really.

"Because it feels like you’re trying to use your tongue to dig a grave for my orgasm in my vagina. So that it’ll have a place to go after you’re done killing it," Brooke said.

He started to look back down between her legs, Brooke smacked the side of his head. "Stop doing that. That’s making it worse."

I seriously have no idea what’s going on, he said.

That part’s obvious, she snapped at him.

He pulled back from between her legs, sitting back on the edge of the bed. You’ve never complained about my technique before.

That’s because, before, your technique didn’t involve your tongue feeling like sandpaper, she said. Are you actively going out of your way to suck all the moisture up from down there? Did you have anything to drink before? Because that’s the only reason I could think of for why you would be trying to drink from my vagina like it was a frickin’ oasis in the middle of the damn desert!

Now, come on. It wasn’t that bad, he started.

"It was that bad."

He shook his head. This has never been a problem before.

Don’t I know it, she grumbled.

You’ve never had a problem with my technique before, he said.

She rubbed her face. "Stop saying technique like you’re some kind of artist asshole. You’re a bartender who used to have a talented tongue."

Used to? he echoed.

Well, I don’t know what you have now and I really don’t want to get to know it any better.

Hey, come on.

Somebody replaced your tongue with a disaster that feels like a brillo pad.

This is starting to hurt my feelings.

Good.

Good?

Yeah, because now you have a tiny little inkling of how my lady parts feel. Brooke sat up, pushing him off the bed. He landed on the carpet with a soft thud.

He scrambled to his feet. I am really confused now.

Stop saying that. She got up and grabbed his littered clothes from around the room.

What’s going on now?

I’m kicking you out. Brooke shoved the pile of clothes into his arms and pushed him towards the door.

You’re kicking me out? But what about…? He glanced down below his own waist.

Brooke looked down, too.

Remarkably, he was still hard.

Are you that thick? she asked him.

The look of confusion that had been on his face for the last five minutes was briefly replaced with his other expression, self satisfaction. Well, that one’s fairly self explanatory.

Brooke rolled her eyes. Don’t be disgusting.

And he was back to being confused. I’m confused. Really confused.

No kidding. I picked up on that. She opened the door.

He held up a hand. "Wait. Wait."

Brooke sighed. What?

What if, you know, you just faked it? he suggested. You know, just this one time? Just, because, you know, we’re kind of already here and ready.

She glared at him.

Okay, you know what, I’m thinking that sounded much worse than it was supposed to.

I don’t know about that.

What I meant to say, he said, speaking as fast as he could. "What I meant to say is, maybe, more like, you know, fake it till you make it? You know, go with the flow and then maybe you’ll get in the mood?"

"First, I was in the mood, she said, and then you got me out of the mood by assaulting me with your tongue in such a way that my vagina feels like it’s suffering from PTSD."

Oh, come on, he started.

"Second. Brooke raised her voice to cut him off. I don’t fake it. For anyone. Ever. Brooke shoved her naked date out into the hallway. Goodbye and good riddance."

Good riddance? he echoed. Wait a minute-?

Brooke slammed the door in his face, cutting him off. She leaned her back against the door, folding her arms across her naked breasts and sighed.

What the hell, she muttered. She looked down between her legs. Seriously, what the hell? What’s wrong with you? This isn’t supposed to be a problem for us. Why are you doing this to me? There’s only so much in this world that I actually enjoy and you’re taking the biggest thing away from me. Seriously? Come on. Get your act together.

Naturally, there was no reply.

Brooke closed her eyes and rested her head back against the door again. Great. Now I’m talking to my vagina like it’s an actual person. This is officially rock bottom. It cannot possibly get any worse for me. She paused and then added, Unless of course I just start talking to the rest of myself, too. Nice one, Brooke. Nice one.

The phone on her nightstand rang.

Please be an actual human being and not my deluded imagination conjuring up a phone call from my own vagina, she whispered to herself and then answered the phone, Yeah?

Hey. It was Avery.

Brooke breathed a sigh of relief.

Avery must have heard it because then she asked, Are you okay?

Well, I’m not going to lie, but I’ve had better days.

Yeah? Well, you doing anything right now?

Brooke looked around her empty apartment and then down at her naked self. Nope, she replied. What’s up.

I got us some work.

Oh, thank goodness, Brooke said, genuinely relieved and excited.

There was a pause from the other end of the phone. Seriously?

Seriously. She was already grabbing her clothes. How soon can you pick me up?

Twenty minutes?

Make it ten.

Avery started to say something, but Brooke had already hung up.

Chapter Four

Avery was a couple of years older than Brooke. But Brooke made up for the age difference by being the taller one. Anybody who spent five minutes with them, though, would never mistake Brooke for being the older sibling.

You know, Avery said, checking the building numbers as they walked down Amsterdam Avenue, I can’t help but notice that you’ve been strangely silent.

Brooke didn’t respond. She was dressed in jeans and a tank top. Remarkably low key and conservative for her.

After a few seconds of not hearing anything, Avery looked back over her shoulder to make sure her sister was still there. Hello?

What? Brooke asked.

Did you not hear what I said?

I heard it.

And?

What? Brooke shrugged. Not everything needs to be a chat fest you know.

Avery stopped on the sidewalk. Are you feeling okay?

I’ve had better days.

Which means?

It means I’ve had better days. Can we please focus on the job? Brooke nodded down the street.

Avery closed the small distance between them and rested a hand on her sister’s shoulder. You’re saying things that are starting to scare me.

Like what?

Like you want to work, Avery said. I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to answer as honestly as you possibly can, given the potential situation, okay?

Oh, brother, Brooke muttered under her breath.

Have you been possessed?

Avery, Brooke started.

She cut her off. It’s a valid question.

That depends on what you consider to be valid.

You’ve been unusually quiet, Avery continued. "Not just today. You’ve been like this for, like the last couple of weeks. You’re focused on work. And, last but certainly not least, at dinner with Mom last night you didn’t argue with