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Full of love and contentment, I still feel the swirl of his vampire inside my heart. “We’re going to be wonderful.”
Thank you for Reading Soul of a Vampire. I hope you fell in love with Britta and Oliver. They were so much fun to write.
You can keep reading about the Brothers of Scrim Hall. Declan’s story is next and I know you will adore this next addition.
Soul of A Reaper
Declan
A grim reaper knows when people are ready to cross over to the next life. That makes it hard to get close to anyone. My brothers are monsters too, so their lives are long, and their deaths far enough away that they don’t invade my senses. Every other human is not as much of a mystery. I touch them and I know when they will draw their last breath. Until Anabelle. From the first touch, I feel need and desire. Not a hint of death in her future. It’s not possible, and yet…
Anabelle
I’ve never met anyone as sad or as caring as the man who came to comfort my grandfather at the end. There had been other hospice workers, but none like Declan. He spent hours with me and Poppy, then he was gone. Unable to shake him from my mind, I search him out at a strange mansion in the woods. I can’t decide if he’s a monster or a man, but I’m drawn in like a moth to a candle and can’t fly away.
ReadSoul of a Reaper
Brothers of Scrim Hall Series
Soul of a Vampire
Soul of a Reaper
Soul of a Dragon
Soul of a Wolf
Soul of a Demon
Soul of a Phoenix
Chapter One
Declan
I’ve never cared for the term grim reaper. There’s nothing grim about it. My purpose is to ease people into the afterlife. I’ll admit it’s often sad to see the tears of loved ones, but for those moving on, it’s quite beautiful.
There’s no point in telling family and friends that. They’re too stricken with grief to understand or care. It’s a testament to a person’s life when they are missed. Being a reaper is not a calling like being a nurse. I’m a creature. I have abilities that some people would say are monstrous. Maybe they’re right.
On a country road not far from Syracuse, New York, the sense that I’m needed washes over me. I’d planned to go home to Scrim Hall, but I can’t ignore the sensation.
My phone rings and Mable White’s number pops up on the screen on my dashboard. I press the button on the steering wheel. “Hello, Mable. Is everything alright?”
“Declan, I’m sorry to bother you, but Oliver said you’re up near the Finger Lakes and I need a favor.” Her voice is strained. Mable owns a diner in Havendoor, which is the town near the home I share with my five brothers. Mable knows what we are and has always been kind to us.
“You’re never bothering me. How can I help?” That tingle of knowing pulls me down an even rougher road so I turn my high beams on and slow down.
“My friend Roger Tipton is quite ill. His granddaughter called a bit weepy a few minutes ago. She sounded bad. I’ll never get there in time to be any help. If it’s not too far, would you stop in?” She sniffles.
I’ve never seen Mable cry and I’ve known her for twenty-five years.
I stop at a crossroads. “Of course, I’ll go. What’s the address?”
“Oh, thank you.” Relief eases her tight voice. “I know it will be alright now. I’m texting you the address.”
My phone pings as I receive the information. “Got it.” Since I’m stopped, I put the address in my GPS. “I’m only a mile away, Mable. I’ll see if I can help.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
