Fear the reaper, p.1
Fear the Reaper, page 1
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © December 2021 by Jami Gray
All rights reserved.
Fear the Reaper - The Collapse: Fate’s Vultures - Book 4
Revised Publication: May 2022
Celtic Moon Press
ISBN: 978-1-948884-58-7 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-4-948884-59-4 (print)
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Cover Art: Deranged Doctor Design
www.derangeddoctordesign.com
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Initial Publication: September 2019
Escape Publishing - HarperCollins Australia
ISBN: 978-1-4892-911-58 (ebook)
Contents
Acknowledgments
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
The Collapse: Fate’s Vultures
PSY - IV Teams Books
Arcane Transporter Books
Kyn Kronicles Series
Also by Jami Gray
About the Author
To Ben, Ian, and Brendan—thank you, just… thank you.
Acknowledgments
This whole writing journey has been a wild ride and no matter the twists and turns, I’ve been blessed to have a great support system helping me hold on. As with every book I can never thank my Knight in Slightly Muddy Armor or my Prankster Duo enough for their endless patience with take-out dining options and my tendency to mentally wander off with no warning. To my writing partners in crime—DeAnna, Camille, Dave—love you guys, this wouldn’t be half as fun without you. To you, the readers, thank you so much for braving the dangerous world of Fate’s Vultures and cheering them on.
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One
As Lilith sat next to her sleeping daughter, she couldn’t escape the terrifying truth that a child held her mother’s greatest hope and deepest fears. Sweeping waves of love and worry fought against the tide of guilt that eroded her heart. Not for the first time she wondered what good was it to be queen if you couldn’t protect the one who needed it the most?
Bitterness rose, but she choked it back. It wasn’t easy. Capricious and corrosive, her emotions were a mess, and she blinked away the hot press of rage-driven tears that threaten to escape. Lilith took a shuddering breath and Tabby’s sleeping face came back into focus.
Her baby was alive and here.
She gently untangled her fingers from Tabby’s loosened hold and traced a feather light touch over the endearing scatter of freckles, carefully avoiding the fading shadows of exhaustion under her child’s closed eyes. Those shadows and the nightmares that stalked her precious daughter were glaring evidence of Lilith’s failure to protect the thing she held most dear.
Once she brought Tabby home, the well-intentioned had offered empty words of comfort not understanding they were only pouring salt into a festering wound. It had gotten so that if one more person made some asinine comment about how lucky Tabby was, Lilith’s knife would be buried in their sanctimonious heart.
Yes, Tabby had escaped the Raider’s captivity without being physically violated, something Lilith got on her knees in thanks for every damn night, but that wasn’t all Tabby endured. The scars left from being kidnapped, beaten, and witnessing another young girl being brutally raped, had shattered her daughter’s innocence beyond repair. Her compassionate, outgoing baby had turned quiet, withdrawn, and wary. Lilith’s destructive rage at seeing those changes in Tabby frayed her calculated control, and when you wielded as power as Lilith did, that was a dangerous thing.
No matter how long it took, no matter what she had to do, she vowed those fucking Raiders and whoever they were in bed with would pay for what they stole—from Tabby, from Lilith, and from all those other grieving parents whose children didn’t come home.
Various scenarios of how to enact her vengeance played through her mind in brilliant, bloody detail because a mother’s vengeance was a terrifying thing—merciless and patient. Two of Lilith’s defining characteristics. Visualization was a key factor in any successful endeavor, and in this, she would accept nothing less than success.
Tabby’s soft whimper derailed Lilith’s bloody plans and she hummed a soft lullaby until Tabby settled once more without waking. Lilith waited until Tabby’s breathing deepened, then waited a little longer to ensure her sleep remained undisturbed. Finally, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Tabby’s forehead. “Sleep well, baby.”
She tucked in the blankets, left the lamp’s soft light on as Tabby didn’t do well in the dark, and slipped out of the room, keeping the door ajar. She padded barefoot into the living room, nabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then she picked up the half-filled glass from the low-slung table and sipped the watered-down whisky as she wandered to the tall windows that overlooked the nearby forest.
Flames snapped and crackled in the immense fireplace behind her, their dance reflected in the night-blind glass. The outside chill was held at bay from the combined efforts of whisky’s burn, the blanket’s cocoon, and the press of heat from fire at her back. Clouds passed over the moon and played peek-a-boo with the surrounding trees, the shadows veiled in shades of black. Wild and dark, it matched her mood.
The isolated cabin was her private retreat. Built decades before by a paranoid bastard with more money than sense it backed into the mountain, which left a winding, narrow trail as they only approach, and blended into its surroundings effortlessly. It hid a collection of special properties—hidden arsenals, solar generators, a panic room, bullet proof, non-reflective glass, and camouflaged escape routes.
Known only to her and one other, it was the perfect safe house, which was why she brought Tabby here. It was an escape from the wagging tongues that plagued their day-to-day existence. Her daughter needed time to heal, Lilith had decisions to make, and both of them craved privacy.
Years of being submerged in the demands of her position and the weight of responsibilities had left Lilith emotionally empty. The hollowness that threatened to swallow her whole only disappeared when she was with her daughter and finding time to spend with her daughter was a damn crapshoot.
Lilith’s role required burying and keeping a variety of secrets, and one of the biggest was Tabby’s familial connection. Staying quiet was far from easy and required ugly concessions, the kind that coated a layer of grime over Lilith’s splintered heart. For years, the truth drove her every decision, because Tabby’s well-being was more important than Lilith’s soul. Then came Tabby’s abduction and every devil’s bargain fell by the wayside as Lilith’s skewed priorities came home to roost with brutal talons.
God, she sucked as a mother.
Her darker emotions slipped guilt’s hold and surged forward, hungry for acknowledgement. Hundreds of ‘what-ifs’ echoed in her head, each dragging along an alternate scenario until she wanted to scream in frustrated fury and self-directed disgust. Instead, her fingers tightened on the crystal glass in her hand. She fought back the urge to throw it against a stone wall and watch it shatter, because the clean-up would be a bitch. Instead, with disciplined control, she raised the glass to her lips, the bitter bite of whisky a twin for her thoughts.
She wallowed in her self-pity for a heartbeat, maybe two, then kicked the entire mess back into a dark hole. It was time to focus and move forward, starting with her top priority—her daughter’s safety.
“Better late than never,” a snide little voice mocked.
Her lips curled in a silent snarl, but she froze, her inner turmoil silenced, when a flash of light hit the glass. Another burst hit, and this time she caught its direction—behind her. She turned and zeroed in on the silent, repetitive signal coming from the lamp next to the couch.
The silent alarm was triggered when someone found their way through the abandoned mines that seeded the nearby mountain and breached the basement escape route. The maze of unmapped tunnels was daunting and dangerous, so for a visitor to make it all the way to the basement meant they should be friendlies. However, 'should be’ wasn’t good enough for Lilith, not with Tabby asleep down the hall. Her muscles coiled and her senses sharpened with predatory anticipation.
S he crossed the room to the mantel, set her drink down, and then went to crouch by the coffee table in front of the couch. She let the blanket fall to the floor and pressed a finger against the hidden lever underneath the table’s edge. There was a quiet click, and then she shoved aside the thick wood top and reached into a hidden compartment to retrieve the gun inside.
She checked the magazine, then the chamber with practiced ease before thumbing off the safety. She straightened, crossed the flagstone floor, her bare feet silent, and brushed her fingers over the old tech security panel. The locks released with a muffled thump.
She pushed open the thick door that led to the basement and was greeted by a cool darkness. With the gun held ready in one hand, she slipped inside, reached back, and eased the door shut behind her. She activated the security by memory and locked the door behind her. Old tech or not, it would offer an impenetrable layer of protection for Tabby.
She glided down the stairs, her eyes adjusting to the shadows. She hit the bottom step, ignored the light switch, and relied on the darkness to mask her presence. She crossed the room and utilizing her memory of the room’s layout, avoided the furniture. When she reached a heavy, reinforced door set in the back wall, she stepped to the side of an empty fireplace. With her gun aimed at the floor, she used her other hand to unlatch the well-oiled lock.
She slowly twisted the knob, then pulled the door open just enough to squeeze through. She stood inside the stygian darkness at the top of a short flight of stairs, and carefully closed the door behind her. The darkness was deeper, heavier than the one on the other side of the door. Cool air curled around her and carried the familiar scent of the Colorado Mountains, leaving a whisper of chill against her skin. A sixth sense, the one that warned when you were being hunted, kicked into high gear.
Someone waited below.
She cupped the gun, raised it, and with her arms bent and her finger soft against the trigger, she inched down the stairs, letting the barrel lead. She made it two steps before grit shifted under her bare heel, the sound overly loud in the humming quiet. She stilled, waited, and barely dared to breathe.
“Lilith?” The low question emerged from the darkness.
Her name in a familiar voice shifted her finger from the trigger to rest along the slide. As tempting as it was, it did her no good to shoot her unexpected visitor. “A little late to be visiting, isn’t it, Charity?”
A soft click was followed by a spill of light as Charity a solar lantern. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” As a shadow within the shadows, Charity remained just out of the light’s reach.
As Charity was the only other person in the know about this safe house, Lilith couldn’t fault her for using it. Still. She stifled her sigh, moved down the last few stairs and dropped her gun to her side. “Considering your entrance—” she tilted her head towards the opening that stretched behind the other woman, “—I kind of figured.” When a few feet separated her from the road-stained blonde, Lilith stopped. “What happened?”
Covered in signs of a long, hard journey, Charity’s normally electric blue eyes were dark with exhaustion. Dirt, sweat, and dust left her hair a lank mess. “Ran into a situation.”
“Did you now?” Lilith murmured.
The sound of someone approaching shifted her attention to the tunnel. She reached past Charity and grabbed another lantern from the shelf on the wall. After twisting it on, she held it up to illuminate the earthen passageway. The shadows that lurked just outside the edge of the light morphed into distinctly human shapes. “I see you brought the situation with you.”
Charity went and stood on the other side of the opening and the additional light from her lantern revealed her tag-alongs. “I didn’t have much choice.” An edge of an apology rode her voice.
Lilith’s attention sharpened on the figures coming up the tunnel. Shadows and light battled it out as the figure in the lead came into view. Her heart seized as Karma proved the ultimate bitch when the one man guaranteed to upend her life strode into view. “What the hell?”
“Hello to you too, babe.” Reaper’s sardonic drawl was unmistakable and highly unwelcome.
Yet Lilith couldn’t stop herself from taking him in, from his devil dark eyes, to the inky strands tied back at his neck, to his equally dark beard, age had only refined his allure. He stepped out of the shadows and filled the space with his wildly dangerous presence and a tiny part of her purred in anticipation.
“There’s a bounty out on the Vultures,” Charity explained. “They needed a place to lie low.”
Oh, hell no!
She bit back her automatic protest and caught the unmistakable mix of frustration and defiance shading Reaper’s face. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one unhappy about this situation, but his discomfort was clearly not going to keep him from insisting on invading her privacy.
Typical Reaper.
Resentment strained her self-control, but she refused to reveal how much his presence bothered her. “So naturally, you bring them to my door?”
Reaper stopped by the tunnel’s entrance, shifted to the side, and waved the ones behind him forward without looking away from Lilith. “Alliance, remember?”
She held his mocking gaze. “As if I could forget.” It wasn’t like she need the reminder since the alliance was her idea in the first fucking place. A necessary evil at the time, but now, she was rethinking things. Unfortunately, she couldn’t give in to her urge to kick his ass out of her cabin because she wasn’t her own person. Hadn’t been for a long while.
Charity braved the tense silence and pointed out, “The last place anyone would think to look for them is here.”
Lilith didn’t comment as two more men, one a shorter haired version of Reaper, the other lean and mean with a wild tangle of gold-streaked brown strode forward and into the basement. Recognition came quick—Math and Ruin. Both looked decidedly worse for wear but were upright and moving under their own volition. Whatever trouble trailed them had taken its toll.
Denying the bedraggled group sanctuary wasn’t nice, nor was it a smart play. In resigned acceptance, she shifted aside so the two could move further into the basement. When Ruin caught her eye, he tilted his scruff-covered chin in silent acknowledgement, and then beelined to Charity.
Reaper’s almost twin, Math, flashed her an impudent grin and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. “Surprise.”
Lilith returned Math’s affectionate squeezed and ignored the scent of night and travel that clung him. Luckily, she managed to hang on to the lantern and gun throughout the exchange. “You look better than expected.”
He pulled back and let her go, his dark eyes serious above his fading grin. “You listening to gossip again?”
“It’s not gossip if it’s truth.” Even though they hadn’t seen each other in close to a year, she easily fell into their familiar, teasing byplay. “You find what you were looking for?”
The assassin lost his amusement and regained his normal grim demeanor. “And then some.”
“Play catch up later.” Reaper bit out in an irritated demand.
Lilith stiffened, but before she could snap back, Math, who stood in front of her with his back to Reaper, rolled his eyes. Then, likely to just to get under his brother’s skin, he pressed another quick kiss to Lilith’s cheek before he turned and joined Charity and Ruin off to the side.
Lilith’s attention shifted back to Reaper, and she replaced her intended sharp retort with a question. “What happened?”
