A reapers secret, p.1
A Reaper's Secret, page 1
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2024 Sam Crescent
ISBN: 978-0-3695-0526-2
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Lisa Petrocelli
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WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A REAPER’S SECRET
The Reapers, 1
Sam Crescent
Copyright © 2024
Prologue
“What’s our next stop?”
The sound of rustling set Billy on edge. He was already too nervous, but listening to a couple of tourists was the last thing he wanted to do. The only reason he stopped in this little lay-by was because it was far enough away from where he’d just come, and seemed impossible to find. He hadn’t even been able to locate it on a map, and he was hoping no one else was able to either.
His hands trembled as he lifted the black coffee to his lips. They would be out looking for him, and he needed to remember that. Staying in one place for too long would be his guaranteed death sentence. Billy couldn’t believe he had gotten this far. He’d never heard of anyone evading them, but then he’d never heard good things about those who had stolen or betrayed them.
All he’d done was stolen from them. Nothing too bad. He hadn’t betrayed them, and it wasn’t like it was a lot of cash either. About twenty to fifty thousand in cash, no big deal. He imagined most of them would have this kind of cash safely hidden away.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as a door opened and another customer entered. Was this mysterious diner usually so busy? He suddenly felt a little hot beneath the collar, and he knew for a fact that wasn’t usual.
It was hot outside, but inside he felt like he was boiling. He couldn’t help but glance around the diner and wonder who was staring at him, who was trying to check him out, to squeal on his location.
“Ah, this is it, Lost Creek.”
At the mention of that town, Billy couldn’t help but freeze in one place.
“Lost Creek? You’re sure.”
“Yep, it’s right here in our plans. Remember, this has got the rumored … The Reapers.”
Coffee spilled over the edge of his cup, and Billy had no choice but to put it down on top of the counter. The sweat that had been slowly building suddenly felt like it was starting to drip from him in one continuous stream.
What the fuck? Why were they talking about fucking Lost Creek, and what was more, why the fuck were they talking about The Reapers?
“Come on, dude, seriously. You’re going to listen to gossip? We’re only passing through to check out the wildlife and if we’re lucky, see some bears or some shit. I’m not into trying to find any kind of … killer gang.”
“I know, but come on, you have to admit it is pretty cool,” the other guy said.
“Yeah, you’re right, it is cool, but what if they don’t exist? Come on, they’re probably just some myth to keep the thugs at bay. It’s a tourist town, and there are plenty of locals around, I imagine they use it to their advantage, and you know, anyone steps out of line, it’s probably the whole town.”
“It’s not the whole town,” Billy said. He just couldn’t take it anymore. “And trust me, if you intend to go to Lost Creek, to cause trouble, then trouble is what you will find.”
“Yo, man, you been to Lost Creek?”
Billy nodded, but he didn’t want to admit the truth out loud. Maybe if he advised these guys not to go to that town, it would be an act of redemption, and it would give him a chance to run and hide. He was fucking terrified.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way, not once, but then he’d not stolen from The fucking Reapers before. Shit, what the fuck had he done?
“The Reapers are real?”
Billy simply nodded his head for a second time.
“I heard they’re a secret society.”
“No, I heard they’re a gang, and you know, like to kill people.”
Billy reached into his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills, leaving them on the bar for the waitress. No one ever remembered a good tipper, not really.
“Trust me, if you can, avoid Lost Creek, and if you can’t, don’t try to piss off the locals. Everything you heard about The Reapers is true.”
“They’re a freaking urban legend, dude. No one knows who they are.”
“No, not until it’s too late,” Billy said. You only ever have a hint of who it is. For Billy, he had a feeling the bar called The Reaper was owned by one. He just had a feeling. There had also been rumors of lawyers, mayors, everyone, providing they had the same goal and had proven themselves to the group.
Billy didn’t even know for sure if he had stolen from them, but he had stolen from The Reaper bar, and that was a good enough reason to believe he had done so.
The two tourist men tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t interested in continuing a dialogue with them. He’d already said too much, and it was now time for him to move on. The only way for him to survive was to keep moving.
Leaving the diner, he stepped out into the hot summer night. It was still light out, but the sun was slowly starting to set. He was going to have to get a move on if he wasn’t careful. He’d already ditched his car, because he figured that monster would leave a trail for them to find, and he didn’t want to make it too easy for them.
There was also a chance he was panicking for nothing, and no one was going to be following because it was all just rumor. He shook his head. No, that was bullshit. The Reapers existed, and they were not men to trifle with.
The temptation of the money and an easy life was just too irresistible for him, and he’d already taken the cash before he truly thought about what he’d done.
Now, he knew he was fucking everything up. He also felt a horrible need to turn around, go back, and beg forgiveness. But if he did that, he was going to have broken body parts, and he wanted that even less. He didn’t like pain.
Walking down the long road, he didn’t see any cars. Was that normal? He didn’t even know if The Reapers had any kind of sway, and as he took another step, he heard it—the sound of a twig snapping. He spun around in a circle, hand raised into a fist, ready to take on whatever came at him.
The perspiration was dripping off him at this point, and he couldn’t seem to control it. He felt sick to his stomach. There was no sign of anyone, no indication of someone walking close by, or for that matter, any reason why he heard the twig snapping. He was losing his mind, it was so clear to him now. The paranoia was eating away at him and causing him to hallucinate.
Billy started to walk forward again, and this time another twig snapped, and as he spun around, about to do the same dance, he froze. Three men stood in line a few feet away from him. None of them moved or spoke a word.
He knew exactly who they were and what they were doing here. Fear raced down his spine, and without another word, he took off, trying to run, only to come to a stop. While he’d been looking behind him, another man had appeared in front of him.
“Hello, Billy,” he said.
Billy froze. He tightly gripped the bag with the stolen cash inside. This was supposed to be his meal ticket, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt he wasn’t making it out of this alive. No amount of begging or pleading was going to work.
He was a dead man, and it was all his doing.
“Are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?” he asked.
Every fiber of Billy’s being was begging for him to do this the easy way, but then he drew out his pocketknife, flicking it open. He wasn’t going down without a fight.
There was a chuckle from the man in front of him. “Good, I was worried for a second you were going to make this easy.”
And in that moment, Billy knew what made The Reapers so terrifying. They were not afraid of death. They did not feel fear, and any threat actually thrilled them. No one would ever be a match for them, and he knew by the end of the night, if not the end of the hour, he wasn’t going to see daylight.
Chapter One
Amy Flynn was a waitress down, but she wasn’t going to allow that to stop her café from getting the job done. They were at the height of summer, and the tourists were flowing through town like a nice stream. So far, for the season, everything had gone smoothly. Most of the visitors were only there to see the views, a few families had opted to stay at one of their many hotels as well as the B&Bs that were spread through the town.
It hadn’t been too bad of a season, and Amy, for one, was loving it, but she also had a feeling that tourists were the reason her main waitress, Penelope, wasn’t in that day. Penelope was hoping to find her millionaire soul mate who had come to Lost Creek to find the woman meant for him, and leave. Penelope was looking for an escape every chance she got, and had been doing so for nearly ten years now, and so far, nothing.
She and Penelope were the same age, but where she loved the town of Lost Creek, along with the café, Penelope hated it. She wanted out, but rather than just take a chance and leave, she didn’t. For some reason, Penelope opted to stay, wait it out for the right guy, while at the same time enjoying the fresh visitors and the to urists.
Amy had never slept with a tourist, and she had no plans to do so. She’d seen the damage firsthand from giving in to a tourist. Now, she didn’t for a second believe they were all bad, because she also knew there were several guys who’d found their true loves, but they hadn’t left Lost Creek. They had come to stay, to build a life here. Which is what happened to her own parents before they passed away over fifteen years ago.
She was able to think about them without crying, but she did feel their loss all the time. Losing her parents at fifteen hadn’t been easy. She’d been close to her parents, but she had also seen how desperate they had been to have a vacation together, even just a long weekend. That was all it was meant to be. Amy had promised to behave as she went to stay with her grandparents, and then late Friday evening, her parents hadn’t even gotten to a hotel. There had been a hit-and-run at the local gas station, but it had soon escalated as the retreating car had been fired upon. Both her parents had been killed.
After the funeral, her grandparents had handled everything, and she lived with them. Now, with her grandparents gone, she owned two homes and this café. It was crazy how life had turned out. For a long time, all she had ever wanted to be was a doctor, but working at the café, her grandmother and even her mother had said she had a knack for feeding people, so that was exactly what she did. She fed people, and she did so well, which was why Flynn’s Café was on the map.
To keep the tourists coming all year round, she changed the menu up to entice them. Even through the summer, she would have multiple changes, and then there were her takeout options as well.
The locals loved this about the café. She would have Retro or Old Favorites Week, where food they used to love would be back on the menu.
This week was all about the different salads, with chicken, meat, and seafood. Living by the coast offered an array of exciting fish dishes, and she loved it. She was also friends with local farmers, and shopping locally was something her grandparents had felt passionate about, as did she. That way, if there was ever nothing available, she would change it up for what was available.
While Penelope was out, she at least had Martha, her grandparents’ friend, who had worked for them on and off for the last thirty, if not fifty years. She wasn’t quite sure how old Martha was, and it was not exactly polite to ask. Either way, Martha handled her way around the kitchen, and Amy took care of the pesky customers.
Martha, even though she was a nice older woman, wasn’t a people person, or at least, not a tourist person. She had no time for them, but when it came to the locals, she was a sweet old dear. Amy loved her, and she wouldn’t be without her.
“Good morning, welcome to Flynn’s Café, can I take your order?” Amy said, approaching the table in the corner. She quickly slid her glasses up her nose, and then looked past her notebook to see none other than Daniel Long, owner of The Reaper bar, sitting alone, reading the local paper.
“I’ll have my usual,” Daniel said.
She couldn’t help but smile. “You do realize I got out of having to remember everyone’s usual, by changing the menu up.”
He chuckled and winked at her. “Yeah, I got that, and now that I know, I’m going to tell everyone the truth.”
She let out a shocked gasp and pressed her fingers to her lips. “I’m so scared. Please don’t tell anyone.”
They all knew it, but the truth was, Amy knew everyone’s favorite. Again, this was why she’d been told she had a knack for taking care of people, and certainly for feeding them.
“Let me guess, the house special—waffles with extra maple, bacon, and scrambled eggs?”
“You got it.”
“Coming right up.”
“How are things?” Daniel asked.
She was about to step away when he spoke up. “Uh, good, everything is going pretty well. I can’t complain. You?” she asked.
“Yeah, a couple of arguing tourists, but then, when you mix them with beer, what do you expect?”
She couldn’t help but smile. Daniel was a good guy, she liked him, and she enjoyed going to The Reaper as well. She wasn’t a regular, but some Friday nights after a long week, she just needed to relax, and having a little dance helped her unwind.
The Reaper was the only bar in town. Where there were a lot of fast-food joints, as well as random snack bars that appeared and disappeared within a season, no one would dare compete with The Reaper. She didn’t know if that had to do with the scary rumors about Lost Creek, or if people were just afraid of Daniel.
Either way, it didn’t matter. She liked Daniel, he was a good guy, but she also knew he had a bad side she didn’t want to be on.
“Very true, but I feel if you started to mix with nonalcoholic beer, there would be a big problem.”
“Oh, yeah, huge problem. There would be riots.”
She chuckled. “Let me go and get your breakfast.” She chanced a glance around the café and saw no one else was waiting, or had entered.
Making her escape to the kitchen, she watched as Martha stood at the stove, handling the bacon.
The waffle batter was resting on the counter. Every morning, Amy came to the café and started the waffles from scratch. There were never leftovers, and if by chance there ever were, she tended to package them up, and whoever was last in the café got a little goody bag.
She had seen a rise in people staying quite late, which she didn’t mind. She hated the thought of anyone going without food, and there was not a homeless shelter in town, otherwise, she’d send to them. Amy loved to help where she could.
“I saw that handsome hunk,” Martha said.
Martha had been married for years, but she lost her husband a few years back to cancer. Amy had been there for her. She’d seen a lot of death in her time, but through it all, Martha only had eyes for her man. At no point did she ever call any man other than her Nigel a handsome hunk.
“Who?”
“That Daniel Long.” Martha gave a low whistle. “If I was ten years younger, I would take that boy for a spin, and trust me, he wouldn’t know what happened to him.”
Amy couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure.”
“I know, but then, my Nigel was alive, and I know my love wants me to have fun.” Martha reached for her locket, kissed it, and then sent a prayer up. “I know he’s keeping an eye on me. Always taking care of me.”
“I bet he is,” she said.
“Oh, trust me, he is. I have no doubt about it. He loves me, and he wants to make sure I’m safe and taken care of. But I already know Daniel is taken.”
“He is?” Amy asked. This was news to her. She’d never known Daniel with anyone. Well, she knew he’d been with women, but she’d never actually seen them.
“Oh, yes, I know there is a special woman out there for Daniel, and like I was to my Nigel, she will have to be one of a kind.”
****
Daniel knew he didn’t have to wait long before his food came out. Amy served the best food, and her service was always efficient. He didn’t know of anyone ever complaining about her, not that they would dare.
“Here you go,” she said. “Waffles, extra syrup, bacon, and eggs. Just the way you like them.” She put his plate down in front of him, along with the small pitcher of extra syrup.
“Thanks. Do you want to sit with me awhile?” he asked.
Amy glanced around the café, and he saw her checking on each and every single person, before sliding in opposite him. He nudged his coffee toward her. Not that she would admit to it, but she tended to take care of everyone else, and rarely herself.
Martha had promised him she would keep an eye on her and make sure she ate. One of the days, several months ago, there had been a lot of noise coming from the café. Martha had been away, and Penelope had snuck off with a tourist, promising her the world. Amy had been alone.
He knew Amy got to the café early in the morning to start up the food, and she’d not eaten anything. Working in a hot kitchen, doing the job of three or four people, she had passed out, only no one had gone to check on her.
