Sneak Peek #2 of "Life After Death" (Return to Limbo City Book One)

 

Chapter 1

“I had a friend who was a clown. 

When he died, all his friends went to the funeral in one car.”

—Steven Wright

 

Time worked differently between the mortal side and Eternity. That’s how Kevin, Eliza, and I were able to coin off from the Limbo City harbor in full daylight and end up in the pitch-black night on Coney Island. Thankfully, reapers didn’t suffer from jet lag.

Eliza folded her hands behind her head and reclined on the roof of the Ferris wheel gondola. The stars sparkled in her eyes, and her breath fogged the crisp winter air. Kevin stretched out beside her, chin propped in the palm of one hand. His gaze darted from his watch to the deserted amusement park below, where our marks would be arriving any moment.

A handful of security lights lined the chain-link fence that enclosed the park, separating it from the beach to the south and Brooklyn to the north. The candy-striped rides and coasters were quiet in the off-season. There was no crowd to navigate, no potential doppelgangers to complicate our assignment. I expected this harvest to be a cakewalk despite its medium-risk status on my docket. Which was why I’d caved when Eliza had asked for a better view as we waited.

The moonless night melted into the ocean, blurring the horizon. I pulled the hood of my robe tighter around my neck and squinted, trying to find where the stars in the sky ended and their reflected twins began. They danced across the water as the waves kissed the shore.

Moments like these made the mortal realm seem almost tolerable.

I dangled my legs over the edge of the gondola roof and sighed. “Sure is a beautiful night.”

“To die,” Kevin added with a morbid, horror-film cackle.

As if on cue, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the park. My pulse quickened at the promise of death, but I held up a hand, signaling my apprentices to stay put. We already had the best seat in the house.

A second later, another scream bubbled up from the shadows, clearer this time. Then a woman stumbled across a halo cast by one of the security lights.

Usually, I would scoff at the clumsy damsels that couldn’t seem to stay on their feet while fleeing slasher film killers. But then again, none of them had been in shoes ten sizes too big. The technicolor wig and obscene amount of makeup running down the woman’s face finally pulled the full picture together.

“A clown?” Eliza hitched an eyebrow. “That’s a first.”

“Not for me. I scored a French mime in the 1840s,” I boasted.

“Didn’t you run a solo circus harvest back when we were with the Posy Unit?” Kevin asked, his eyes glued to the shadows, searching for our sad clown’s pursuer.

“Yeah, but all the clowns made it out alive. And it wasn’t supposed to be a solo harvest.” I pressed my lips together, deciding not to dig up the past. Kevin had been clean for a decade, and he hadn’t missed a single day of work in all that time.

“You said we’re picking up three here, right boss?” Eliza asked, shifting focus back to our current assignment.

“Yup.” I glanced at my watch. “One might already be dead, but he should be nearby. We’ll collect him after the show.”

“Oh, goody.” Kevin rubbed his hands together and scooted closer to the edge. Eliza rolled her eyes, though she sat upright to have a better look herself.

I was curious, too. The clown had surprised me. Of course, the profiles on my docket stuck to the basics unless a harvest was high-risk. I knew that the three souls we were picking up tonight all worked their nine-to-fives as telemarketers at the same company, selling extended warranties. But I didn’t know the specifics of their side hustles or hobbies. Apparently, clowning around was also something they had in common.

I saw the bloody knife before our killer, confirming my theory about the first victim. Then the light hit her pancake makeup, the stark white punctuated by black brows, rosy cheeks, and red geisha lips. Her lavender leotard and matching tutu were splattered with more blood, and she stalked rather elegantly after her blubbering prey, balancing on the toes of her ballet slippers.

“Please!” the crying clown begged, tripping over her floppy shoes again. “I didn’t know. He said you’d broken up!”

The killer clown slashed her knife through the air. She was too far away to do any damage, but the other woman screamed and tore off, heading for the Ferris wheel and forcing us to lean further over the edge to catch the next act.

“Should we… move?” Eliza whispered.

“There.” I nodded to the rooftop of a nearby attraction. “The spooky one with all the skeletons.”

We rolled our coins and reappeared in time to watch the clowns begin their assent up one of the support legs of the Ferris wheel, awkwardly scaling the open-lattice metalwork. Neither of them was wearing the proper shoes for such an activity, but the ballerina seemed to be having an easier go of it.

“Man! I wish we had some popcorn.” Kevin huffed and climbed up the backside of a skeletal dragon perched above the entrance of the building we’d moved to. Eliza snorted, but she craned her neck to watch as the clowns neared the center of the wheel, their limbs hooked hazardously over metal beams, panting breaths fogging between their faces.

The ballerina took another swipe with the butcher knife, this time making contact across the sad clown’s forearm, drawing an earsplitting squeal from her. It was an overzealous strike, and the ballerina wobbled on her feet from the momentum. She grasped for the nearest beam, letting the knife slip from her hand. It clattered between the rungs before freefalling to the pavement below.

“You crazy bitch!” the sad clown screamed, clutching her bleeding arm to her chest. She was suddenly braver now that the knife was out of play. “No wonder Ron was afraid to dump you!”

Not to be discouraged, the ballerina clown braced her back against a beam and reached into the sleeve of her leotard, retrieving a silk handkerchief—or twenty. They were knotted together, likely for a less nefarious purpose than strangling her cheating ex’s side piece.

She waited for her flopsy-footed quarry to begin down the metal lattice. The knife was on the ground, and I could see the hopeful glint in the sad clown’s eyes. She thought there was a chance she could reach it first and survive this.

But as soon as she was a rung below the ballerina, the colorful noose slipped over her head. Flopsy garbled out a strangled cry and clawed at her neck, releasing her hold on the Ferris wheel base. Her oversized shoes wobbled against the beam she was perched on, just barely holding her upright.

Eliza sucked in a sharp breath and covered her eyes, immediately peeking through her fingers. I stifled a smirk. There was no escaping the morbid curiosity that came with being a reaper. It was in our blood.

A hollow scraping sound drew my gaze back to the Ferris wheel. Flopsy’s giant shoes had finally failed her. She kicked at the metal beams, trying to regain her footing. But it was too late. The ballerina released the rope.

The sad clown’s skull bounced off a crossbeam on the way down, concussing her enough that she didn’t even muster a scream before her body smacked the pavement and began the telltale oozing of a violent death.

“Is the ballerina butcher our third?” Kevin whispered. “Or is there another victim hiding around here somewhere?” He was entirely too eager.

I huffed. “Do you really want me to spoil the surprise?”

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t exactly discouraging this behavior. But was loving your job such a bad thing? Besides, these extra colorful harvests were a rare treat.

“No, don’t tell us,” Eliza said, now fully invested in the final act.

Sirens echoed in the distance. A second later, red and blue lights flickered across the dark skyline of Brooklyn.

I turned back to the Ferris Wheel, waiting to see how our murderous ballerina would react. I expected surprise or panic. Maybe some nervous fumbling. But she remained calm, graceful even, as she slipped down one of the diagonal rungs. It was as if she were following the steps of a choreographed dance, performing a show for the ghosts of her victims—or us.

And then the toe of her slipper found the spot where the sad clown’s split skull had bloodied the beam, making it slick. Much too slick for her murderous victory pirouettes.

Even her swan song was elegant. It wailed in harmony with the approaching sirens, cutting off sharply as she met her end in a colorful pile of skewed limbs beside the sad clown.

“Aww,” Kevin groaned. “That was a cheap finale. Not even a shootout with the fuzz?”

I shook my head. “Clearly, I’ve been giving you too many gangster harvests.”

“I thought it was poetic justice,” Eliza said. “And I can’t wait to question their souls. This should be good.” She hitched up her robe to retrieve the retractable scythe holstered on her hip.

Warren, armorer to the Nephilim Guard, was also contracted through Reapers Inc. to design a few harvesting gadgets. Since we were personal friends, that meant my team and I got to test drive said gadgets. For better or worse.

The retractable scythe was his latest creation. And mine had been jammed since last Tuesday, after I’d gotten the business end stuck in the eye of a hellcat. In Chicago.

The creatures had been appearing more frequently on the mortal side, but no one could figure out where they were coming from. Was there a rift in the soul matter that separated one side of the grave from the other? Or perhaps a new old god with a bone to pick now that the Throne of Eternity had been dissolved and there was no longer an infinitely powerful soul lingering in the shadows like Grim’s invisible watchdog?

It wasn’t really my place anymore to seek out the answers to these questions—even if it was making my job more problematic. That was Afterlife Council business, and I was more than happy to stay off their radar these days. I just wished their problems would stay off my radar.

In the meantime, I needed a tune-up on my retractable scythe. I still preferred my battle axe when it came to most high-risk assignments, but until the hellcat issue was resolved, I required something more practical to get me through the workday in one piece.

“I’ll go track down the first soul,” Kevin offered, shouting over the nearing sirens. I nodded and pointed Eliza at the two clowns under the Ferris wheel.

“Let’s get this show on the road before they turn into chalk outlines.”

"Life After Death" will be available December 21st, 2021.

Find it at your favorite e-bookstore today! 

https://angelaroquet.com/books_life_after_death