Soul of A Reaper

Soul of A Reaper Brothers of Scrim Hall Book Two Andie Fenichel Copyright © 2023 by Andie Fenichel All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination. Locales are fictitious, and/or, are used fictitiously. Edited by OopsieDaisyEdits.com Cover design by LoveTheCover.com Contents Soul of a Reaper Brothers of Scrim Hall Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Epilogue Also by Andie Fenichel About the Author Soul of a Reaper Declan A grim reaper knows when people are ready to cross over to the next life. That makes it hard to get close to anyone. My brothers are monsters too, so their lives are long, and their deaths far enough away that they don’t invade my senses. Every other human is not as much of a mystery. I touch them and I know when they will draw their last breath. Until Anabelle. From the first touch, I feel need and desire. Not a hint of death in her future. It’s not possible, and yet… Anabelle I’ve never met anyone as sad or as caring as the man who came to comfort my grandfather at the end. There had been other hospice workers, but none like Declan. He spent hours with me and Poppy then he was gone. Unable to shake him from my mind, I search him out at a strange mansion in the woods. I can’t decide if he’s a monster or a man, but I’m drawn in like a moth to a candle and can’t fly away. Brothers of Scrim Hall Havendoor, New York is a small out-of-the-way town. Surrounded by forest, it’s the perfect place to build a castle and raise six spirited monsters to be extraordinary beasts. Even though I was born different, generally I believe in law and order. However, by human rules, I shouldn’t have searched for them. I damn sure shouldn’t have taken them. Don’t be too quick to judge me. If you had seen how eager those state institutions and foster homes were to be rid of those little boys, you’d have done the same thing. Monsters, they called them—They were the monsters. I gave children who were born special a family and an education. I made them a home in Scrim Hall. That was twenty-five years ago. Maybe I kept them too safe, too separate. It’s time I flew the nest so they can do the same. You should know there are Vampires, Reapers, Demons, and people who shift from humans to wolves, phoenixes, and dragons. They’re not like other men, because they are only partially human. You can call them monsters, but they are my children, and they are ready for the world to see the brothers of Scrim Hall. ~ Wentworth Pettigrew Chapter One Declan I’ve never cared for the term grim reaper. There’s nothing grim about it. My purpose is to ease people into the afterlife. I’ll admit it’s often sad to see the tears of loved ones, but for those moving on, it’s quite beautiful. There’s no point in telling family and friends that. They’re too stricken with grief to understand or care. It’s a testament to a person’s life when they are missed. Being a reaper is not a calling like being a nurse. I’m a creature. I have abilities that some people would say are monstrous. Maybe they’re right. On a country road not far from Syracuse, New York, the sense that I’m needed washes over me. I’d planned to go home to Scrim Hall, but I can’t ignore the sensation. My phone rings and Mable White’s number pops up on the screen on my dashboard. I press the button on the steering wheel. “Hello, Mable. Is everything alright?” “Declan, I’m sorry to bother you, but Oliver said you’re up near the Finger Lakes and I need a favor.” Her voice is strained. Mable owns a diner in Havendoor, which is the town near the home I share with my five brothers. Mable knows what we are and has always been kind to us. “You’re never bothering me. How can I help?” That tingle of knowing pulls me down an even rougher road so I turn my high beams on and slow down. “My friend Roger Tipton is quite ill. His granddaughter called a bit weepy a few minutes ago. She sounded bad. I’ll never get there in time to be any help. If it’s not too far, would you stop in?” She sniffles. I’ve never seen Mable cry and I’ve known her for twenty-five years. I stop at a crossroads. “Of course, I’ll go. What’s the address?” “Oh, thank you.” Relief eases her tight voice. “I know it will be alright now. I’m texting you the address.” My phone pings as I receive the information. “Got it.” Since I’m stopped, I put the address in my GPS. “I’m only a mile away, Mable. I’ll see if I can help.” “Why am I not surprised that you’re so nearby?” Probably for the same reason I’m not. My senses are keen on these things. “You know, Mable, the fact that I sensed your friend…” She sniffles. “I know, Declan. I know. Roger has been ill, and he’s getting up in years. Maybe you can make sure Anabelle is okay.” “I’ll do what I can.” Comforting the bereaved is not usually my thing, but I can’t say no to Mable. She thanks me, and I follow the map on the dash and my internal guidance system to a small house on a wooded lane. The lights are on inside. My heart slows