Latin Grim Reaper Novels & Stories

“Of all the people I expected to see in the middle of the apocalypse, you were… actually pretty high on the list. Not gonna lie.” His smile widened sharply and ugly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “Don’t,” I shot back immediately. “It’s not.” Grimlow’s eyes flicked over me then to Ashley, Lucius and finally Martha, like he was assessing value, calculating something in that twisted little brain of his. “What you’re witnessing,” he said, his voice almost proud now, “is my masterpiece. My creation. My genius finally realized.” I let out a short laugh, shaking my head.

I apologise. "Is that a fresh injury, or would you call it an old battle scar?" Clarissa raises an eyebrow, visibly concerned. It's like I have met many vampires, but the ones I have encountered are enough to make me think they're all horrible. First the Hunters, then Vladimir and his regular patrons were all overly aggressive and full of hate. Now, I met Octavius and Clarissa, and they're both gentle with me. Sure, Kieran is cold and distant, but I think it is in his nature to push everyone away.

“But how is it possible? Yer dead.” I give him a shy smile and wave. “Hi…I’m actually…my name is Lana,” I sputter nervously as a blush crawls up my cheeks. He might look like the actor, but his melodic voice is different. Where the actor was British, Rafael has a light, Scottish lilt. It’s not as obvious as Lucifer’s or Michael’s, but it’s there. Lucifer gives me a bemused snicker and whispers, “Stop ogling my little brother, lest I get jealous, luv.”

I already figured that out on my own. “He is much nicer than the other one. The werewolf, Officer Stone.” I tell him. “Ah, yeah. Malachi Stone. People say that's his last name because he has a heart of stone. Me, personally, I just think he's just an asshole.” Grimm tells me, making me laugh. He smiles slightly. “I should intorduce myself. I'm Thanatos Grimm.” “Um, as in the-” I begin. “Yes, as in the Greek God of Death. I added the last name about three hundred years ago when they began to become popular. I went with Grim because in the 15th Century everyone began to call me the Grim Reaper.”

He drops the weapon, jumps to his feet and flees as though poltergeists were at his heels. The dark tsunami then breaks into billions of locusts that cover and lash at Septimus. The Grim Reaper’s trench coat rips apart in many places and, shockingly enough, warm human blood flows from every scratch and laceration. He grits his teeth below his beak mask, which is beginning to crack against the onslaught.

"It is impressive that someone was able to spy on us." Ray smirked carelessly. Butler Fin ignored the 'boy's' mockery and replied, "It is remarkable. Just like a mortal was able to endure your glow." Ray shut up at the rebuttal. The glow he used on the assassin was one of his most prized possessions. It was called Brimstone. This glow allowed Ray to burn things down even to a molecular level. Even the soul wasn't spared this agony. Being burnt by these flames ensured that one's soul would be lost for all eternity, completely destroyed, leaving nothing for the eager arms of the grim reaper. It was certain that the grim reaper hated this technique. No one would appreciate a skill that starved

He stroked my hand with his thumb. “The bringers of death?” I suggested. “The Delazar’s thrive on war. Their leader loves chaos and power. Delazar believes the weak should be killed.” He paused, with a grim look on his face, and I thought back to what Sam said about his brother, then he continued, “Reaper is the name he gave our clan because we are the bringers of death.” “Have you… brought death to anyone?” I wanted his answer to be no but a part of me wondered and I had to know.

If anything, he showed them—just slightly, just enough to remind you what he was. He caught my gaze. Smirked. It was small. Sharp. Lethal. I looked away first. “Next to him,” Loralie whispered, “with the silver eyes and that whole ‘I’ve seen your death’ vibe? Silas Grimm. His family runs the reaper line. Literal emissaries of death. Half-reaper, half-shadow. No one knows his age. Death incarnate in a hoodie. Don't touch him unless you're into soul dismemberment.”

the one who is chasing her was almost close to her! “PLEASE!, HELP ME GRIM REAPER!!!!”. I plead, I plead to the Grim Reaper to help the Grim Reaper just stared at where Me Ann was “PLEASE!! HHWWUUAAA!!!” my tears are dripping and begging GRIM REAPER to save Me Ann “PLEASE!!! HELP ME!!!!” “is that... a zombie... so that’s how it is”- Grim Reaper “HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!!” He only looks at me intently, then suddenly he lifts his crescent scythe and stabs me with it!

A goon lunged, his blade flashing, but I caught his wrist, snapping it, his scream cut short as I drove my knife into his gut, twisting until he stilled. “Burn it,” I growled, my voice low, my men torching crates of cocaine, flames licking the walls. One of Salazar’s lieutenants, a wiry bastard named Rico, begged on his knees, his hands raised. “Please, Reaper, I didn’t—” I shot him between the eyes, blood pooling, my boots stepping over his corpse. My men flinched, their glances uneasy, but I didn’t care. This was me now—cold, merciless, the devil they’d forgotten.