Weekend with avery, p.1
Finding Death, page 1
FINDING DEATH
By
J.E. Taylor
Finding Death © 2024 J.E. Taylor
2nd Edition
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
FINDING DEATH
Finding Death Chapter 1
Finding Death Chapter 2
Finding Death Chapter 3
Finding Death Chapter 4
Finding Death Chapter 5
Finding Death Chapter 6
Finding Death Chapter 7
Finding Death Chapter 8
Finding Death Chapter 9
Finding Death Chapter 10
Finding Death Chapter 11
Finding Death Chapter 12
Finding Death Chapter 13
Finding Death Chapter 14
Finding Death Chapter 15
Finding Death Chapter 16
ABOUT J.E. TAYLOR
FINDING DEATH
When I set out to squash the reaper rebellion, I never thought having the positions of both Fate and Death would be a liability.
Boy, was I wrong.
Seriously, an ultimatum from Heaven never makes for a great start to the holidays. On top of the heavenly host trying to obliterate me, I’ve been cursed in the cruelest of ways.
I cannot touch anyone without destroying them.
If Heaven finds out about this particular affliction, I don’t think even Sam and Dean would be able to stop the resulting Armageddon.
Finding Death Chapter 1
I AM THE FIRST.
I’m the first offspring of Fate and Death that was conceived after they had taken the roles. In other words, they were not living, breathing beings when I was born. But the annihilation of the devil made so many weird things possible, including me.
I have no entry in the Book of Fates. Having no entry isn’t normal. Every soul has an entry, a timeline that can be searched in the Book of Fates, but not me. In all of Earth’s long and rich history, there has never been someone without an entry. To make matters more bizarre, I apparently can wipe out the entries of those I protect. So, now there are almost two dozen people running around like me with no written path.
The power to kill reapers has been solely Leviathan’s gift. That, of course, does not include wielding either Heaven’s blade or another ancient knife that was made just for that purpose. Those were the only things that could rid the world of a reaper. Until I unleashed my true potential. So, I am the first human to harness that little trick, and that was before I became a dual deity.
Which leads me to my current predicament. I now hold the role of both Fate and Death—while breathing, I might add, which is another historical event. Blood flows through my veins with every beat of my teenage heart.
I’m not the only one alive, either. It seems I’ve given my parents a moratorium on death, too. For the first time in decades, they have a steady heartbeat.
But all this mojo, all this ethereal juice, didn’t come without a side effect, and what a doozy it is. I can’t touch anyone. Well, except my father, but that’s only because he touched me after my transformation into duel-deityship.
My touch isn’t deadly per se. It’s so much worse.
I absorb souls when my flesh connects with anything harboring a life-force.
So, although my dad is breathing again, he has no soul. Once his life is over, there will be no happily ever after for him and my mother in the land of the dead.
My only saving grace: Heaven does not know about my latest curse.
However, when they find out, I’m sure they’ll send an army of assassins after me. Even now, just having a single being at the helm as both Death and Fate was enough to get Heaven’s panties in a wad.
The trees pass as my father drives down the winding roads leading us home from Kittery. I glance at him for a moment as the silence surrounds us. His dark hair falls onto his forehead unchecked. The man doesn’t look a day older than I am, and yet he had been Death for fifty some years. He gives me a smile and then looks back at the road, navigating us home. Well, to the only home that I’ve ever known, anyway.
My father seems pleased now that the first of my obstacles has been taken care of. Taking on the reapers wasn’t all that challenging, in retrospect.
I guess having the power to annihilate reapers who harbor ill will toward me and my family helped, but it certainly made it anticlimactic. I mean, as soon as I wiped out half the reaper legion, the remaining horde of reapers bowed to show their alliance pretty damn quick.
Although stripping the reapers from existence didn’t feel like my finest hour.
I huff at my internal dialog as my father pulls into the Ryans’ driveway. The house is a pretty two-story colonial on a bluff overlooking the ocean. We can actually see Papa’s house on Roaring Rock Road from our backyard.
“What?” my father asks from the driver’s seat.
“She is just mourning those she killed,” Levi, the German shepherd in the backseat, says.
He really isn’t a dog but a monster in drag, protecting me from harm at the direction of my father. You see, Leviathan is seriously loyal to my dad because before my father even became Death, he set Leviathan free. I guess if I had been chained since the dawn of time and someone freed me, I’d be protecting them with everything I had, too. It’s actually kind of sweet.
I look over the seat and roll my eyes at Levi. I’m not mourning the reapers I killed. Not really. Well, maybe. Damn, I hate he could read my deepest feelings.
The house looms before us, and I bite my lower lip. Before we left to deal with the reaper uprising, an emissary from Heaven had been sent to annihilate me. Thankfully, he has a mind of his own.
You see, Heaven sent Papa Ryan’s dead brother back home to take care of the situation, but none of us truly knew what that meant. Luckily, Papa’s brother didn’t seem all that keen on carrying out their orders to destroy me. But that was before I took care of the reaper uprising.
Now that that particular roadblock has been taken care of, I don’t know what will happen next.
“Are you coming?” My father had climbed out of the car while I was lost in my own mental review of my situation. He opens the back door for Levi.
The front door to the house stands open and the person in the doorway erases all the random thoughts piling up in my head.
Zane Bradley stands at the front of the growing group. His bright-green eyes lock with mine and the relief that washes over his features is enough to get me moving. He’s really stunning to look at, with his dark hair gently shifting in the ocean breeze and his muscular physique that supports his side gig as a home improvement guy, but I would never in my wildest dreams tell him that. Just seeing him brings a smile to my face. I guess having my lifetime crush still present after the insane weekend we’ve all had is enough to light the fire underneath me.
My best friend, and de facto sister, elbows her way through to stand next to Zane. Her red hair blows in the breeze and if I could freeze this moment, I would. My victory seems small compared to the love that radiates from the house, and I slowly climb out of the car.
As I round the grill and step into the rays of the garage spots, Holly’s mouth drops open. But it’s Zane’s slow smile as he scans me from head to toe that makes my heart skip a beat.
You see, I never changed from the leather outfit I conjured for my face-off with the reapers. And it is kick ass, with a fitted bodice and flared skirt with a slit that is probably too high for a sixteen-year-old. I guess I composed it right because it certainly has the effect on Zane that I had been going for when I put it together in my mind.
He licks his lips and starts toward me. But then his smile fades, and he draws to a stop. The glaring truth extinguishes his momentary excitement. He cannot so much as brush his hand against me, never mind wrap his arms around me and kiss me like I want him to.
My momentary spike of anticipation falls to the ground as effectively as a mic drop. It crushes my insides, turning my mood darker, and dropping me on the edge of despair. I almost turn and run because although I feel their love in waves, being near these people is dangerous.
At this precise moment, my father, who is the only one here who can touch me, throws his arm over my shoulder as if he knows I’m a flight risk and smiles at the crowd at the door. “She had them shaking in their hoods,” he says with a grin, breaking through whatever darkness grabbed hold of me.
I roll my eyes and shake his arm off my shoulders. His explanation doesn’t paint me in the light I want, although it’s totally accurate. I had them quaking and dropping to their knees, but it wasn’t out of respect.
Zane cocks his eyebrow and I know what the question floating in his mind is. I shrug. I had gone a little GoT on the reapers. The disappointment that flashes in his eyes and rounds his shoulders turns my stomach sour.
I’ll have to fill him in later. I have one more dangerous enemy to deal with and its emissary steps out of the house. His dark hair blows in the breeze and his piercing blue eyes echo all those related to him by angle blood. I jut my chin out, staring him down like we were going to be thrown into a cage to fight to the Death.
His lips twitch into a cocky grin, as if he would welcome a bloody fight. But then he gives me a nod, like I have done something that he respects instead of something worthy of destroying me. Holly’s Papa had once said he was the wild one of the two of them. The one who didn’t always walk on the right side of the law, but he had lived through hell after their father died. Despite whatever trials Tom Ryan had been put through, Papa said he definitely had the bigger heart.
I certainly hope so, and that somehow I’ve won him over. Otherwise, I am walking into an ambush I am ill prepared to defend.
Finding Death Chapter 2
IN THE FAMILY ROOM, I pull a kitchen chair into the corner, away from any chance of knocking anyone. I don’t need another soulless person around who had no eternal future. The guilt over my father is enough to carry; I can’t imagine that burden multiplied.
My mother remains in her spot in the kitchen, her gaze jumping between my father and me like she didn’t know whether she wanted to hear what happened. She brushes a stray blonde hair out of her face and puts down the dishcloth she had been using when I walked in.
Zane drags a chair next to mine and sits as close as he dares without touching me. It’s oddly comforting because I can feel his essence. It leaves me warm enough to sigh, even though everyone else is acting odd, as if I am a stranger.
Holly sits on the floor so the adults in the room can either congregate on the couches or at the dinner table that ends where the family room begins. She leans against the edge of the couch and crosses her arms. “So, are you going to clue us in as to what happened?”
I glance at the rest of the people in the house. Alex and Faith, Holly’s parents, lean on the kitchen island with coffee cups. Alex runs his hand through his dark hair as he waits for me to answer, and Faith just keeps twirling a strand of her fiery hair on her finger. It is one of her nervous habits and I wonder what exactly was said while my father and I were dealing with the reapers.
Holly’s Papa takes a seat at the kitchen table, along with his brother. I can tell who is related to the angels just by glancing around the room. Every single one of them has piercing blue, iridescent eyes. It reminds me almost of neon blue, especially in the low lights, like now. I’ve never seen eyes like that outside the family.
Usually, being the center of attention with Holly isn’t a problem, but tonight it gets under my skin like a bad case of poison ivy. I refrain from itching my skin in response. Papa’s brother’s stare makes me shift in my seat. He is the one Heaven sent to destroy me, but he doesn’t seem all that eager to follow Heaven’s orders.
Although I’m leery of him, he isn’t the one who sets off alarms in my head as my gaze passes over him. It’s Kylee and her husband Michael who make me want to wield my scythe in self-defense. Every sense of mine tingles just looking at them, and Michael won’t so much as look at me. Even Kylee averts her gaze when I glance her way.
Something is gravely wrong here, and it takes me a moment to realize what is missing. I scan the room and then tilt my head, listening for a television somewhere in the house. Nothing. No electronics of any kind are on.
“Where are your kids?” I address Kylee.
She barely meets my gaze. “We sent them over to CJ’s house with Smoke and Phoebe to put them to bed.”
Zane’s nod confirms her statement. And it sounds reasonable, given it’s late enough, but that didn’t stop the warning bells in my head. Twisting, turning doubt blooms in my belly.
“Why wouldn’t you go with your kids?”
“We, uh, we wanted to be here for you when you returned.” Kylee stumbles on her words.
I nod and glance at the ground, rummaging around through Fate’s memories swarming in my head. Alarms are sounding like the house is engulfed in flames, but I can’t read Kylee. She is acting completely squirrelly.
“What happened?” Holly asks again.
I shrug. “Unfortunately, they wouldn’t listen, and now there’s a lot of dust and ash floating around Fort McClary.”
She grins and her eyes sparkle as if this were one of her freaky supernatural shows instead of real life. She’s enjoying this, but then again, Holly has always been twisted, so this is right on point for her character. She’s warped, and for a minute, the binds of our friendship seem solid. But then she asks, “So, you toasted all of them?”
“No. I only eliminated those who would harm you.” I let that sink in. I don’t want the people closest to me to think I am some kind of bloodthirsty fiend. “Any of you.” I glance around the room to make sure they know that extends to everyone here and not just my immediate family. “And any reaper who had a violent reaction to me taking both roles. The rest were willing to kneel to show their loyalty.” At least, I hope they were going to be loyal.
Michael fiddles with something under the table and Kylee stares at him with a crease in the space between her eyes. They seem lost in their own thoughts, and those thoughts don’t seem all that kosher.
I glance at Alex and then over to Michael, silently relaying my blooming concern with my eye movement. He’s never been able to read me, but Alex and Faith and Papa can get into most of the people’s heads in this room with their psychic connection. The silent communication between Alex, Faith, and Papa begins. Papa’s eyes narrow and he cocks his head as though he picked up a bad wavelength.
“What are you doing?” he asks Michael, pulling everyone’s attention away from me.
Even Papa’s brother now looks at Michael with curiosity.
“Nothing,” Michael says, but he continues to stare at the table, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
“Heaven sent you to kill me?” I ask, reading his face with a certainty that left me cold, but Papa’s expression is downright chilling.
Michael hisses and reaches up to his temple, bringing his hands into view from underneath the table. One hand goes to his temple and the other stops with a glistening crystal-blue knife.
Whatever headache Papa is creating eliminated Michael’s surprise attack, but he keeps his grip tight on the handle despite whatever pain he’s experiencing.
Both Faith and Alex gasp at the blade he holds.
“You brought Heaven’s blade?” The growl in Papa’s voice slams home.
Faith’s gaze jumps to my father. From what I gathered from all of Faith’s stories of her run-in with Lucifer, she left Heaven’s blade with Death.
But it clearly is now in Michael’s possession. Anything even nicked with that blade ceases to exist.
My chest tightens. Heaven got to him, too. How many others in my close circle were doing Heaven’s bidding?
My father’s gaze narrows, as do his lips, and his eyes shift to Kylee. The former siren who procured ancient weapons as a hobby. She has almost every known weapon in the universe locked up tight in her fortress in San Diego. Except this one. Heaven’s blade is here.
The last time Heaven’s blade had been out in the general human population was when my mother faced off against an escaped demon. It was used to turn that rebel into dust.
And now, from the look on Michael’s face, he means to turn me to dust.
One minute, Michael winces in pain, and the next, he launches the blade at me. I stare at it as it circles, end over end. If I dodge right, I plow into Zane and strip him of his soul. To my left is a wall. I’m stuck and as helpless as I’ve ever felt.
I’m not the only one shocked in the room, but someone recovers their wits because the blade stops less than a foot from my chest. He aimed it at the biggest part of me. The one surefire way to at least nick me if I wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way.
