Reap & Repent Read Online Free Page B

other supernatural entities: Satan? Angels? Demons?Vampires? Werewolves? Reapers? It was a slippery slope for sure. Open one door and no telling
what
might come through it.
    Regardless, Ruth wasn’t ready to take it all on face value or the word of the very fine man who was cooking her breakfast. But she had to admit that he had some admirable points.
    “You might as well accept it so that we can move ahead, Ruth. Unless, of course, you have a better explanation?”
    She shook her head no and stared down at his plate longingly. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.
    “So, do you know where your father is buried?”
    “Of course I do.”
    Deacon popped a bite of bacon into his mouth. “Let’s go there after breakfast to see if he’s hanging around.” He filled a plate for her.
    “You mean we don’t have to wait until the stroke of midnight or have a séance or take an Ouija board or anything?” She was a little disappointed with the whole thing. She’d expected something…more.
    “We’ll go see if his soul is there. It all depends on whether or not you detached it accidentally when he died. If his soul made it with him to the cemetery, it will still be there. Let’s hope he’s been reaped. If not, we’ll reap him. It’ll be fine. Trust me.”
    Clearly, he was delusional.
    Her urge to bolt from the house was only staid by the plate of oh-so-crispy bacon and eggs he placed on the table for her.
    “Oh sure, no problem, trust you. I don’t even
know
you, and until yesterday my life was fine, and now …?”
    “Fine? Really? You said yourself that you stay away from people because you can’t stand to read their auras. You were estranged from your own mother and from what I can deduce you have no family or friends. I’d say you are far from fine.”
    “Who are you to judge me? You don’t know what it’s been like. I thought I killed my father. And now you’re telling me that I may have trapped or
lost
his soul? How do you think that makes me feel? Let me tell you. It makes me feel like shit. It makes me feel tired and like shit. I don’t know what the point of all of this is, but I’m already damn tired of playing.”
    Ruth flopped down hard into a chair at the table, suddenly overcome with emotion. She put her head down on her arms. Hot tears welled in her eyes, and she could not keep them from leaking out. She was mad and sad and hurt. And most of all, she was really, really tired.
    Deacon put a hand on the back of her head and pushed some happy juice into her. Maybe if she could learn
that
little method of self-medicating, she could pull it together. She didn’t know why she was picking now to fall apart.
    Maybe I found the fault line in my brain.
    “It’s going to be okay, Ruth. I’ll help you through this.”
    “Why?” she sobbed. “Why do you want to? Aren’t you just cleaning up a mess? My mess?”
    “Yes, but we need good reapers. Besides, I could use the help. You seem like a good kid and…hell, maybe you can work with me. Once you’re up to speed, of course.” His voice trailed off but he kept his hand on her hair.
    She looked up at him. She must look like a hot mess. Her mascara, which had probably smeared around on her face in her sleep, had starting running and was pooling in dark semicircles under her eyes. Her nose was stuffed up from stifling her emotions, and she hadn’t looked in a mirror since Friday morning. She could only imagine what her hair looked like.
    A frizzy, wild Chewbacca mess, I’m sure.
    He knelt beside her, putting an arm around her, and pulled her toward him.
    “Hey,” he said softly.
    She peeked up. He lifted her chin with his hand and looked into her tear-blurred eyes. “It
will
be okay, I promise.”
    She prayed he was right.
    He leaned in and pressed his soft, warm lips against her forehead. She closed her eyes, soaking it in. It was a tremendous relief that she couldn’t see his aura and know his true feelings—whether he liked her or