Free Dead Reaper Walking by Mina Carter

number of spells. B-i-i-g spells.”
    John had obviously picked up her tell and slid in as smooth as silk. “Spells. Perhaps that coven we’re investigating in the Kaufman case?”
    Laney nodded. “Exactly. Could just be a kid’s prank…”
    It could be, if the officers on scene hadn’t reported a shitload of sulfur in the alleyway. But Mrs. Clarke murmured, hope in her eyes. Troy felt awful to give her false hope but what else could they do? Tell them ‘I’m sorry but your daughter is probably a demon’s chew-toy by now’? Besides, it wasn’t entirely false hope. Laney had said no reap. No reap, no death. No death meant they still had a chance.
    John snapped his notebook shut and slid it into his pocket. “Okay, I’ll start with the names we have, see if I can shake anything loose. You and Ms. Larson check out the scene? Mr. Clarke, Mrs. Clarke, if you’ll excuse us. We’ll keep you updated, as soon as we know more…”
    Mrs. Clarke cleared her throat, that hopeful look focusing with purpose. Troy turned back to give her his full attention—professionalism and all that—but she wasn’t looking at either him or John as he’d expected. Instead her gaze was riveted on Laney. She looked back, and as he watched, her ‘reaper’ expression softened.
    “Can I help you, ma’am?”
    The woman pushed past her husband, her gaze on Laney as though she was the last beacon of hope. “You know, don’t you? If someone’s going to die?”
    Laney paused for a moment. From their conversations Troy knew she probably didn’t talk about this shit with people not in the know. Her family perhaps, other reapers…other reapers who were men. Jealousy hit him but he locked it down quick-smart. There was a time and place for stuff like that, and it wasn’t here and now.
    “Each lifeline is unique.” Laney’s voice was soft and she reached out to take Mrs. Clarke’s hands. “Look hard enough and you can tell which ones are related to each other. Brothers and sisters. Father and sons… Mothers and daughters.” She paused to look between the couple. “Looking at yours, I can tell which one is Tiffany’s. It’s not calling to me at the moment. She’s still alive.”
    Mrs. Clarke gasped, almost folding in on herself. Tears of relief sparkled in her eyes.
    “Thank you. Thank you so much. We’re not a powerful line like some…” Her voice was the barest whisper. “So our visions are sporadic at the best of times. Under stress—”
    Her voice broke and she pressed her hand to her mouth, swallowing hard. It was always hard to see a victim’s family trying to keep it together, but Troy kept his gaze level and refused to look away. They’d trusted him enough with their honest emotions, it would be discourteous of him to brush that off. “Please, bring my daughter back.”
    Laney covered the other woman’s hand with one of hers. Her face was serene. A chill swept the room, stirring her hair as her shadow lengthened behind her.
    “I am Death made flesh,” she said, her voice not human. More than human. It rang with power and the silence of the grave, bringing shivers to the back of Troy’s neck. “ I cut the cord that binds a soul to this life, no other. I will find your daughter and I will bring her home, this I promise you, but I cannot guarantee it will be alive.”
     
     
    Troy whirled around before he reached the gate, a hand shoved in his hair and a look of exasperation on his face. Exasperation aimed solely at me.
    “Fuck me, Laney. Did you have to just drop it out there in the open like that?”
    “What did you expect me to say?” I shrugged, spreading my hands in an innocent gesture. “Yeah, I can bring her daughter home but… I’m a reaper. If I’m involved, it’s not often gonna be a happily ever after, is it?”
    Troy growled, a sound that was kind of sexy, even if he was angry with me. “You didn’t have to outright tell the woman that!”
    I folded my arms and matched him glare for glare.