Reaper

Reaper

Book two in The Guardian Legacies series

©Emily Goodwin 2012

www.facebook.com/theguardianlegacies

www.emily-goodwin.blogspot.com

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Cover art by MAHDesigns

www.mahdesigns.deviantart.com

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Acknowledgements:

I would like to thank everyone who helped me in writing this book. To my beta readers: thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it. You guys are awesome and I appreciated your feedback more than you know! To my friends: Thank you for putting up with my social recluse behavior and constant talking about ghosts, magic, and demons while writing this! To Lori Parker: I do not think I can ever repay you! From beta reading, scheduling blog tours, and helping me with anything I pestered you about, you have gone above and beyond. Thank you!

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To my dad

Whose sense of optimism taught me to never give up.

Chapter 1 - In the Dark

“I promise I’ll be fine,” I said with a smile, watching my boyfriend pack a bag full of ammo. He shoved a loaded magazine into his Beretta.

“I know you will, but I still want Hunter here with you.”

I sighed. I didn’t like the idea of my Guardian not being with me, not one bit. “I’d feel better if you took him. Besides, he’s bored and could use some fun.”

“Since when is killing demons fun?”

“Since he stopped covering up the fact that he is a bad ass magical Guardian in the form of a huge German Shepherd,” I told Ethan. My eyes settled on my Guardian, who stood loyally by my side. He didn’t like the idea of not being with me either, but he was built for this. Weighing in at one hundred and sixty-four pounds of pure muscle, Hunter was brilliant when it came to taking down anything demonic.

“I wish you could come with,” Ethan said with a resentful sigh.

“I gotta stay here and do important things,” I reminded him. Though, I had graduated high school a semester early, didn’t have a job, and had no local friends; we both knew that was a farfetched lie.
 
As a witch descended from the Coven of Sacred Guardians, I was handy to have around on a hunt as well. My Coven was famous in the supernatural world for our daggers, daggers forged by magic that could kill any demon with a single stab. The trick was that someone from the Coven had to be the one holding the dagger in order for it to work.

But, the truth was, I wouldn’t be allowed in on the hunt, not as the regular person the rest of the hunters thought I was. Belonging to the ancient Order of the Mystic Realm, Ethan hailed from a long line of demon hunters. His father had called and asked for Ethan’s assistance on this particular hunt since one of the hunters originally assigned came down with the flu. Ethan and his father both agreed it would be best to keep my identity from everyone, save a few trusted hunters. David, Ethan’s father, told us it was because I would be bombarded with questions and requests to join in on hunts.

Ethan accepted that as if it was the complete truth. There was something in David’s eyes when we spoke, however, that led me to believe there was more to the story. I wanted to bring it up and ask him, but Ethan and I hadn’t seen David much since we moved from New York into my Great Aunt’s old farmhouse in Indiana.

“I’ll miss you,” Ethan said as he zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“I’ll miss you more,” I replied.

“I doubt that,” he told me with a half smile. I followed him down the stairs, picking up the bag I had packed for Hunter earlier that morning. “I’ll come home as soon as I can,” he promised. We loaded the bags in the back of his black X-Terra. I buckled Hunter’s seatbelt harness around him and made Ethan promise to buckle my beloved Guardian in every time they drove. I opened the door and Hunter gracefully jumped in the backseat.

 
Once Hunter was buckled in the SUV, Ethan and I locked arms. I rested my head against his chest and sighed. I didn’t want him to leave. Though we’d lived in Indiana for a little over two months now, I hadn’t managed to make any new friends. Without my boyfriend and my Guardian, I was going to be very lonely.

“I love you, Anora,” he whispered, hugging me tightly. I looked up into his brown eyes.

“I love you, too.”

 
He kissed me, his arms tightening even more as he picked me up and pressed me between him and the SUV. I wrapped my legs around his waist and passionately kissed him back, not wanting to let go. Regretfully, Ethan set me down.

“I’ll call you once I get there. Be careful, Annie.”

“I will be,” I said and meant it, though I wasn’t worried; absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had happened since we moved here. I waved as Ethan drove down the long, gravel driveway and watched him disappear down the country road. Shivering in the early March weather, I ran back into the warmth of the white Victorian.

“It’s just me and you,” I told Romeo, my ferret, as I settled back into my bed. It was five-thirty in the morning; I hadn’t gotten up this early in months. I closed my eyes, wanting to go back to sleep but was unable.

 
“Pathetic,” I said to myself, unhappy with the unease that crept over my heart. Knowing I wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep, I threw on my coat and ventured to the barn. I fed my two horses and attempted to keep busy cleaning. The barn was brand new and still clean; I ran out of chores after only half an hour.

I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house, baking cookies, and looking at my hair in the mirror. I had gotten four inches cut off yesterday. Though my hair was still long, it seemed too short and I missed those four inches dearly. I logged onto my Facebook account, grimaced at a picture of a moth my best friend, Laney, posted on my wall as a joke, and was somewhat surprised to see a friend request from Clare Cross, the stylist who had cut my hair. We had talked the entire time she worked on me; she was a very nice, friendly person who said she remembered what it felt like to be new in town. I smiled at her thoughtfulness and accepted her friend request.

I rode both of my horses, organized the spices in the kitchen in order of magical importance, and practiced telekinetically moving heavy objects—it took a lot of effort and always gave me a headache. The more I practiced, though, the easier it got.

When the sun started to set, I turned on the radio and cranked the volume to my favorite rock station. I left the light in the family room on while I made dinner. Rationalizing that if I made a big meal I could save and eat the leftovers, I filled a pot with water. I turned the burner on, waiting a minute to allow the pot to warm up and then held my hand over it. Using magic, I instantly made the water boil. I dumped in a box of spaghetti and got to work on making homemade meatballs. I even went so far as to crush up garlic and attempt to make my own sauce. I didn’t, however, realize that the pasta would get done way before the meatballs. I had to reheat it in the microwave by the time everything else was ready.

I ate my dinner while watching TV. I twirled the noodles around my fork and lifted it to my lips. Before I could take the first bite, something crashed onto the back porch. I froze, fork hovering in the air. Fear radiated from my heart, making my veins feel as if ice water had been pumped through them.

 
I swallowed hard, shoved my fork in my mouth, and sprang up. Barely acknowledging the fact I had used way too much garlic in my sauce, I ran into the kitchen to retrieve my dagger. My eyes were wide open with terror and my heart pounded in my throat. I took a deep breath and went back into the family room.

I telekinetically turned off the lights and peered on to the back deck. I didn’t see anything; I knew better than to assume that meant the coast was clear. Pushing my fear away, I put a shaking hand on the doorknob and twisted.

A sheet of ice lay shattered on the cold wooden deck. Instantly feeling silly for overreacting, I laughed and looked around at the dark yard. We had spent the last two months focusing on the inside of the house: ripping down wallpaper, painting, buying furniture, and decorating. Other than the addition of my barn, we hadn’t done a single thing to the big yard. I was looking forward to the weather warming up so I could plant a garden.

After a disdainful look at the ice chips, I went back inside. I locked the door and sat back down to finish dinner. I made a big deal over getting the kitchen spotless before I went upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. My bed felt empty without Ethan or Hunter. Technically, the master bedroom was mine and Ethan had his own room at the end of the hall.

Since the move, Ethan hadn’t spent a single night in his room. The master bedroom was plenty big enough for the both of us but Ethan had yet to move his stuff in. If I was bored enough tomorrow, I decided, I would transfer everything here. Really, who were we trying to fool by having separate rooms? It was only us here, and he was my boyfriend, after all.

Originally, I never wanted to live with someone until I was at least engaged. However, being a demon magnet had changed that. Because I hadn’t wanted to put my friends and family in danger, I had moved to Indiana to separate them from me, and, in turn, the demons. Ethan moved in with me for two reasons: he loved me and wanted to be with me, and he didn’t like the idea of me having to face demons alone. Who better than my demon hunting boyfriend to come and keep me safe?

~*~

I ended up staying awake until four-thirty, but it was because I was too enthralled in the zombie book I was reading, not because I didn’t like sleeping alone for the first time since January. I slept in until eight-thirty, which really wasn’t sleeping in since that meant I only got four hours of sleep. I dragged my butt out of bed and fed the horses. Later that day, I was sitting in the octagon shaped sunroom, planting seeds in a miniature terrarium when something crashed into one of the large windows.

I jumped, sending basil seeds flying all over the cold tile floor. For a good ten seconds I didn’t move, waiting for whatever hit the window to do it again. I picked up my dagger—which I usually kept close by—and slowly walked to the window, half scared, half excited to see what hit it.

A large bird lay stunned on the ground. I rushed outside, prepared to scoop up the poor thing and nurse it back to health. I knelt down next to it, apprehensively reaching out to touch the crow. Right as my fingers graced the glossy feathers, the bird jumped up and flew at me. I covered my head and fell back as it flew away.

“I guess you’re alright,” I said out loud and went back into the house. It was an overcast and dreary day and storm clouds were rolling in. I finished up planting my little herb garden and situated it on a table under a window. I made sure all the doors were locked before I went upstairs to shower.

I was rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when I heard the voice. My heart momentarily stopped beating. I popped my head out from behind the curtain, listened, and heard nothing.

 
Sadly, hearing voices wasn’t uncommon for me. But I hadn’t seen or heard a ghost in this old house. In fact, I’d never felt safer or more at home than I did in the century old farmhouse. I assumed Aunt Estelle had put some sort of protection spell on the house and I was too grateful for the peace to investigate it further.

I turned the water off and heard the voice again. It was a female voice, and it sounded familiar. Not bothering to dry off, I wrapped a fluffy towel around myself and tip toed to the bathroom door, peering into my room. Light danced on the polished hardwood floor. I swallowed and took a deep breath, my body humming with adrenaline as the voices grew louder.

I laughed when I saw that the TV was on and that the familiar voice came from the lead character on my favorite sitcom. Water rolled down my hair and splashed onto the floor as I strode over to the bed. I picked up the remote, turned the TV off, and went back into the bathroom. I only got so far as flipping my head upside down before the voices came back. I froze, trying to figure out what was going on.

I picked up the dagger and edged to the top of the stairs. A conversation softly filtered up the narrow stairwell. Consternation building, my fingers tightened around the dagger. As quietly as I could, I made my way down the stairs.

 
The TV was on in the family room.

I knew I hadn’t turned it on. I stood rooted to the spot, my heart pounding. Water dripped down my legs and pooled at my feet. I shook myself and telekinetically turned the TV off. Wanting to get dressed before anything else happened, I jogged back up the stairs and threw on some clothes.

Hastily, I buckled a belt around my waist and attached the sheath of the dagger to it. Thinking this had poltergeist written all over it, I lit a sage smudge stick and wafted the smoke all around the house. The doors were still locked, which meant that if a person was doing this, they were still in the house. Though, even I had to admit, it wouldn’t make sense for a person to break into someone’s house just to prank them.