Blade 2 Reaper Novels & Stories

Ripper hands me my guns and I take them and check them before I leave the clubhouse with Rebel and Dante behind me. I kiss them both and take Rebel’s face in my hands and look into her honey coloured eyes. “We will find who did this and they will wish for death,” I say to her, her hands placed over mine. I place my forehead against hers, closing my eyes to centre myself. “Can’t have the reaper without his Scythe.” She whispers, and I open my eyes and look into hers. She knows who I am and what I am capable of. They don’t call me Scythe for nothing. The instrument of the Reaper. The instrument of death.

A gloved hand clamped over the sentry’s mouth, muffling a choke as the blade flashed—KA-BAR, seven inches, serrated—slashing throat to spine in one clean arc. Blood sprayed hot, then slowed, the body slumping limp. Reaper eased him down, wiping the blade on the guy’s sleeve, then flashed a hand signal—one down, clear. Inside the perimeter, another agent hunched by a makeshift campfire—orange flickers licking the dark, embers popping faint. He’d been out here too long, hands rubbing raw over the heat, M16 propped lazy against a crate.

Josh immediately moved forward to stop Reaper, however, it was too late, Reaper had put the knife into use. With a desperate swing, Reaper drove the blade forward, straight into Mateo’s side. Mateo tried to step back, but it was a little too late. A gasp escaped Mateos' lips, both from shock and pain as the knife tore through his flesh.

I let the Void do the talking. I swept my wing out in a wide, vicious arc. The mercury blades didn't just cut; they erased. The pikes shattered into dust, and the Alphas were thrown across the deck, their armor melting as the Void-energy ate through their circuits. I was a storm of black-and-gold, a "Lagos-grit" reaper moving through the center of the world's power.

—a weapon forged from the concentrated light of the Great-Attractor. ​The Reapers lunged. Kaelen moved like a blur, his bronze-lines flaring with a golden heat that melted the brass gears under his feet. Every strike of his blade didn't just cut metal; it released a burst of "Stolen-Time." A Reaper would shatter, and suddenly, the sound of a song or the smell of a forgotten summer would fill the air.

“This one needs to be stitched. It’s deep. It’s bleeding.” They were all bleeding, but he agreed with that assessment. He threw on some iodine and threaded the needle for his son. Blake had put on a brave face so far, but when he had to slick that needle in and out of his father’s skin to do up the nasty gashes the best he could, his hands shook. There were other spots that were leaking, puddling on the floor. He must have left a trail to the house. Were there some wondering if their alpha would live to see morning? Were they already picking out a new leader? They’d be disappointed that he didn’t die. Come morning, he’d be a different man.

When I woke up again, I found myself lying on the couch at home, still terrified from my experience. Liam came out of the kitchen with a slice of cake, making me jolt in shock. To my surprise, I found that the stab wounds all over my body had disappeared. I wasn't in pain, either. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

"We know about the Ghost Layer, Dominic." ​Reed smiled, a genuinely charming, terrifying smile. "Yes, the Ghost Layer. I designed it to broadcast the theft to the IRAB—the very body I control. You tell them I’m stealing it, and they’ll file a report with Vesper, my own company. A perfect closed loop."

He’s confident, skilled in his craft and wicked with war scythe. Zane uses a war scythe to harvest the souls to bring back to Death. It’s where the whole concept of the grim reaper's image comes from in the human world. It’s because they took the idea from Zane’s coven. Of course, at the time, they didn’t know. They thought it was all made-up shit in stories. Zane’s war scythe is a badass. The top part of the blade has jimppings as the blade curves toward where it meets the staff; it has black bone-like fragments sticking from it. On the bottom of the staff, there is a badass-looking skull.

She doesn't blame them for that but this could get them killed with their pack mates. The creatures lunge at her, and she leaps into the air, turning in mid-air, and slashes their spinal cord with a single blow of her sharp dagger. As she jumped and ran through them, they fell limp one by one to the cold ground. She slashed the creatures one by one until her path was clear, at which point she rushed to Malcolm, tilting her head. Malcolm cast a glance to her right, and she followed his gaze. Her eyes widened as she noticed five creatures circling Aiden's beast, all ready to attack him at the same time. Malcolm smirked devilishly at her, and her eyes hardened. As the creatures circled him like