Ghostly Reaper Novels & Stories

My magic hovered at my fingertips, ready to stop time at a moments— “Boo.” A scream ripped itself from me, cracking off the treetops. Damon and Ghost stepped from the shadows like two creeping grim reapers. Damon’s brows vanished into his hair, which hung over his forehead in sweat-damp waves, while Ghost grinned like a cat that got the cream. “Sorry,” he held his hands up. “I couldn’t resist.” “Fuck you.” I panted, then spun around only to find myself half a centimeter away from a distorted shadowy face. “AGH!”

Cale whispered. "I live here. This is my studio." "Get out!" Cale grabbed the brass lamp from the floor. He threw it. It flew through the ghost. It hit the easel. CRASH. The painting of the Reaper fell. It landed face down on the floor. The ghost vanished. Cale slumped back onto the couch. He was gasping, sweat stinging his eyes. "Hallucination," Cale chanted. "Chemical imbalance. Not real." But the question remained.

The ghost that haunted my blood. Dante reached for a bottle of fruit wine, the witch’s favourite, and poured a glass for Mel. She took it, murmuring a thanks against the rim. “You might be strong, Elias, but I don’t suggest taking chances with that one,” Dante warned. “There’s a reason she’s known as the Reaper.” “You don’t have to tell me. I’m well aware of what she’s capable of.” I had first-hand experience.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” A man stepped forward just enough for her to see him — mid-thirties, hard face, wearing a black and silver cut. With the vest– Devil’s Sons. “Name’s Ghost,” he said quietly, keeping his distance. “We’ve been watching this war from the outside. King is getting too bold, too powerful. It’s bad for business. We want him gone.” Hazel’s pulse hammered. “What do you want from me?” Ghost kept his hands visible. “Inside information. Reaper’s plans. Timing on the next hit. In return, we extract you and your friend Lena. Clean IDs. Full protection far away from here. No more tracker. No more Reaper.”

I came so hard my legs gave out, only Reaper's grip keeping me upright as pleasure crashed through me in waves. "That's it," he muttered. "Good girl. Such a good fucking girl." He came with a grunt, burying himself deep and flooding me with his release. When he finally pulled out, I felt his cum immediately start leaking down my thighs. "My turn," Ghost said quietly. Reaper stepped aside and Ghost took his place, but he flipped me around to face him first. His dark eyes bore into mine. "I'm going to fuck you now," he said calmly, like he was telling me what the weather was. "And you're going to look at me the whole time. Understand?"

My psychic ability must be heightened in this place because I instantly become aware of these three creatures, these… {reapers}. The first is Kera, the Spirit of Vengeance, responsible for conducting everyone who suffered a violent death. She’s a battle maiden in plate armor, with an ebony face and short, curly blonde hair. Exactly the type to bring home to mama except for the fangs, talons and the huge pair of raven wings on her back.

I had to find something I could do to make money that I could be discrete enough to accomplish without drawing the attention of the massive amount of people I managed to successfully piss off by means of killing the under-lord, Christian. That led to my current livelihood of being an assassin. I started out with nothing more than the knife that killed my mother, Christian’s belt and sheath, and my rags cut, sewed, and repurposed into a disguise to hide my hair and face. I was sloppy in the beginning, and it was a wonder I’d never been caught. As the years passed, I became the most efficient, deadly, mysterious, and untraceable assassin. I entered unseen, killed in silence, and vanished witho

Tyler uses his telepathy with Kyra. “Grim reaper.” The grim reaper turned, and everyone looked at Tyler. “Why?” Tyler asked. “Nothing.” Said Cael. They wondered why the grim reaper turned to Tyler, even though Tyler couldn’t see it. A grim reaper raised its scythe and, like a magnet, absorbed the ghost. The ghost fights hard so it will not be drunk by the invisible force. A grim reaper moved its scythe again and dropped its tip to the floor, making a strange sound. The ghost did nothing, so the scythe completely sucked it, and the grim reaper waved its hand, and the portal opened.

"Isabella Moretti, just like you ordered." The man turned around slowly. Grey eyes locked on mine. No warmth, no smile, just a cold calculation, like he was sizing up a new weapon. This had to be Damien Voss—the Reaper. I'd heard the name in passing from my dad's rare phone calls, but nothing prepared me for the real thing. I straightened up, ignoring how my hands shook. "You'd better have a damn good reason for dragging me out of my bed in the middle of the night. I have a life. An apartment. Students who expect me in class tomorrow."