Black Butler Grim Reapers Novels & Stories

“Well, well, well, look who do we have here?” Wide eye and shock beyond her wildest imagination. Someone with the smell of death and holding the weapon of the reaper dashes in front of her. Pinning her unto the wall and eyeing her with the bloodshot eyes, from the figure and body that are wrapped in cloth, clothes that are all in the pure black, hood that perfectly hides his entire head. He whispers. “My familiar, my seer, and very paid deal. Shall we complete the contract?” WITNESSING ENOUGH AS SHE MADE HER PRESENCE KNOWN BY STRIPPING A SIDE AND FILAMENT OF THAT VERY TIME AND WORLD. SHE IS GREETED BY HIM.

we kept on repeating this words until the germ starter vibrating as it slowly levitate . our chanting pitch grew high and the germ exploded sending out an unusual mass energy which knocked everyone away .I groan and manage to get back on my feet ,I took a glance at the circle and behold they stood a figure dressed on black cloak .his face was covered with a hoodies and on his chest was the green eye,his sharp grim reaper scythe was beside him .wait he's a freaking grim reaper now this is sweet . " why did you set me free " was the first word he said and damn his voice sounded rough and old ...

At long last, none remained who would raise a hand against him. Ashton stood amid the blood, dressed from head to toe in black. He gazed toward the deepest shadows of the building. He sounded almost unsatisfied as he asked, "Are there only two left? I'm not done killing. I hope you're strong, or tonight will turn out to be disappointingly dull." Blood kept dripping from the long blade, pattering into the scarlet pool with a ticking rhythm, like the tolling of a death bell. "Your codename is the Grim Reaper? When did the Legion take on such a bloodthirsty deputy head?"

Reaper Swithin said, blowing his nose and taking in the air. "AAHHHHH! This Moroi blood!" Reaper Swithun Johnson is the guardian of Strigoi Grave Risen Coven. He has ginger hair and blue eyes and always wears a black dress coat with silver buttons. He is tall and lean, with a sharp jawline and a piercing gaze that can make even the bravest of souls tremble. Reaper Swithun is known for his unwavering loyalty to the coven and his fierce protection of its members. After Ace, Reaper is second in command in the coven.

Did I die again? "No. You should have but you didn't. It's exactly why I find you unusual," said the unfamiliar voice. I didn't even notice him but now that I was looking at him, he stood out the most. Was he the grim reaper? He had a black cloak on but there was no death scythe. Was I safe? Most definitely not. "Yes, I am the grim reaper. But I didn't come to reap you. Well actually I did but I can't. My scythe is inside my cloak and you can't see it unless I want you to."

Everett received news from Axl Callen, the knight of the vampire army. He has blond hair, he has past shoulder-length hair and purple eyes. Their enemies came to invade but were defeated, but some escaped. Everett ordered a strengthened front defense. Everett goes down to the dungeon to meet Tazaana and sees her just sitting and being silent. Everett said, "Tazaana, today you will determine what kind of creature you are and your life will be determined after this."

Not the clumsy snap of a human, but the deliberate, heavy crunch of something that weighed four hundred pounds and knew exactly where every leaf lay. A shadow detached itself from the trees. He wasn’t in his wolf form, but he might as well have been. Silas, the Alpha of the Northern Pack. Roman’s oldest rival and the only man who had ever looked at my blueprints with more interest than my face. He was dressed in a black tactical turtleneck, looking more like a mercenary than a high-society wolf. His eyes weren't blue like Roman's; they were a dark, molten amber that seemed to track the very rhythm of my failing heart.

"And we see what they want." The two of them moved forward, sticking to the trees and keeping their distance from the group of rebels. As they neared a clearing, Lia spotted them—a group of wolves, their faces weathered and scarred, their eyes sharp with suspicion. They weren’t purebloods. They were Greykin, like her. One of them stepped forward, a woman with silver hair and a black cloak that blended seamlessly into the shadows. Her eyes, like Cassian’s, glowed with a fierce intensity, and she immediately assessed them, her gaze flicking from Lia to Cassian.

And then, just as swiftly as I had been brought before her, I was pulled back to Earth. I stood once more in the girl’s quiet home, but something had changed. A deep chill ran through the room. And then, the grim reaper appeared again. With a single gesture, he reached out, and took the girl’s soul. “No…” I whispered, grief and confusion twisting inside me. “What is happening now?”

He grinned at her in a way she could only describe as predatory. "Who are you?" Liv tried to stand, but was still unable to make it to her feet. Her head swam from the blow to her head. "Come now, beauty. Let me help you." The strange man lifted her by the armpits and walked her to a fur covered chair near a table. "I am Killian O'Mara of the Blackfoot Pack," he said with the slightest Irish lilt to his voice. He gave her a courtly little bow before sitting in the chair across the table from her.