The Last Great Reaper Read online

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  EPILOGUE

  Copyright © 2018 by Billi Bell

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For Chastity

  PROLOGUE

  August 20, 1823: Rome, Early Morning

  The streets of Rome were still in the early morning hours. Only a few people paid her more than a passing glance as they started their day. Gazing up she locked eyes on the Vatican, her first stop of the day. Although it had been many years since she last stepped foot on the holy grounds, walking through the gate, it felt like no time had passed at all.

  She greeted Alfonso, the resident reaper of the Vatican. He was one of few stationary reapers. They were assigned to a single location and simply waited for the next death to occur. He silently bowed as she continued to her destination.

  “Hmm...this one’s term was long,” she thought. “I hope the same for the next. The more years in between me visiting these grounds, the better.”

  The reaping of souls was no longer a required duty for her. In fact, most of her time was spent ensuring the work was done right elsewhere. A countless number of reapers around the world could be here, but popes were and always would be her chosen responsibility.

  They weren’t the only souls she guided to the afterlife. Many well-known figures most likely saw her face before their last breath. The wicked were her specialty, and those particular reapings were the ones she most enjoyed. It was the only way to subside the darkness in her without innocent suffering from her wrath.

  She was in no rush to get to the pope’s bedside, but as she got closer a feeling that could only be described as emptiness filled her. It differed significantly from what she’d come to expect.

  There was always a specific climate when a pope was about to die. An emotional fog that she could just make her way through. She‘d once thought it was God trying to keep her from the soul, but that would be a breach of their agreement. Acquiring the souls were her domain, and no one could interfere.

  Today, something felt different. She’d made it to the bedroom door when she realized what it was, there was no fog. She sensed nothing holding her back. Almost as if a path had been cleared right to his bedside. For the first time, she felt as if she was being beckoned to the Vatican.

  What the world would never know about popes were they truly spoke with God, or instead, He talked to them.

  Shortly after their deaths, each one would deliver a message to her while in a trance-like state. It would always relate to upcoming events such as war, plagues, and natural disasters. They never remembered the experience, and after she received her message, she sent them on their way to the afterlife.

  The routine never altered until the 15th century, when the message changed. Each time a pope died, they spoke the same phrase, “Take him and keep him safe.” When she’d asked what it meant, the pope would only repeat himself over and over.

  She always assumed it meant the Holy Father himself. Maybe God was telling her to take him to the afterlife safely. Anyone else would presume the same until today. The message changed into a plea from God to protect a single man.

  CHAPTER 1

  For most in the world this day would be like any other, but for some, it would be their last. For Pope Pius VII it was the latter. It would be the day he’d see her and smile, for he knew God would be the next face he saw. At his bedside, Cardinal Consalvi sat hoping his presence could make the Holy Father more at ease.

  The door opened, and a young priest entered the room. “Can I get you anything, your grace?” Father Dominic Fratelli asked the cardinal. The pope had been in and out of consciousness for hours, and the faithful cardinal had not left his side.

  “No, my son, the time is coming soon, and I’m afraid my appetite left me long ago.”

  Dominic gave a short bow and began to leave the room when Consalvi stopped him. “Please, stay. I’m afraid I am tiring and will miss our Holy Father’s final moments. Sit and keep an old man company.”

  Dominic was a man who always seemed to have the world on his shoulders. Tall and scrawny, his dark brown hair was almost too long for Consalvi’s taste, but the old man gave him a pass. He appeared to be in his mid-20s, but his dark green eyes gave many the presumption they had seen some hard years. He didn’t look Italian, but his accent sounded as if he were born in the heart of Rome.

  He was reluctantly well-known throughout the Vatican for his spot-on advice to fellow servants and parishioners. He often spoke as if he’d lived many lifetimes and often his guidance would be received with grateful words.

  Dominic hesitantly sat down in a chair near the bed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched.

  He had never spoken directly to his superior outside of a position of duty. The request for a personal conversation unsettled him. He had only been in Rome for three years and had planned to make it home for some time. Being forgettable was vital for him and witnessing the death of a pope would not be easily overlooked.

  “I must say, I’ve heard of your reputation. You seem to have knowledge beyond your years. How long have you served?” Consalvi asked the young priest.

  “I joined the priesthood about 8 years ago, but I’ve only been at the Vatican these past few years, your grace. Although it feels a lot longer—. I meant that in a good way of course,” he replied with a half-smile. The cardinal gave a knowing but agreeing smile back.

  They spoke for no more than a half hour when the Pope regained consciousness again and looked into the corner of the room, smiling as if seeing someone he hadn’t for a while. Dominic looked over to the corner and saw a shadow of a person who wasn’t there. Couldn’t be there.

  The corner was well lit, and a shadow had no right to occupy the space it was in. Dominic blinked, and although it was gone, he still couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched. His head began to ache, and the pain slowly grew, but just as quickly as it came on, it stopped.

  They watched the pope as he labored his last breaths. As Cardinal Consalvi began praying over the Pope, Dominic could almost feel the shadow this time. He glanced behind his back and swore he saw a person cloaked in black moving back towards the corner.

  As he watched the space, waiting for the shadow to appear again, he realized that Consalvi was no longer speaking and the Pope was no longer breathing. Dominic and Consalvi joined in a short prayer, and Consalvi eventually left the room to prepare the announcements.

  Dominic started to clean and ready the room for visitors who would adequately take care of the remains. He was headed out the door but paused when he sensed another person in the room. He turned and
came face to face with a woman.

  He stared into her eyes and couldn’t help feeling as if he’d met her before. If he had, it could not have been a kind experience. Seeing her gave him an immediate sense of anxiety. Although she was apparently trying to mask it, he could see a hint of curiosity on her face.

  “You…see me,” she stated as a matter of fact. “I demand to know how.”

  His brain was on overload just being in her presence. He hadn’t felt anything new in years. She was beautiful but had a clear disposition that said: “Don’t fuck with me.”

  Her skin was brown and smooth as silk, and she stared at him with piercing brown eyes that could stop a man’s heart. Her black dress looked skillfully tailored just for her, and she was draped in a hooded floor-length cape. He could just make out the tip of her boots. She stood as tall as him but somehow made him feel like a little schoolboy standing in front of an angry teacher.

  “If your done staring, I’d like an answer to my question, now!” she demanded. Her eyes changed to dark green, and he swore he saw a skull flash across her face during her brief moment of anger. He sensed a fear that felt like it had sat buried deep inside him. His mouth opened to speak but the words were lost. She glared at him, and for a moment he thought he saw a grin.

  Was she amused?

  Is this all a joke to her?

  Dominic stood with his mouth agape, posture stiff as wood, and heart nearly beating out of his chest. She started to speak again, but he spoke first.

  “I see you...because you…are here…” he managed to finally say. “You are here in His Holiness’ private residence, standing in front of me and you are not meant to be here. Why else would I be staring at you?”

  His confidence grew with each word he spoke, and he tried his best to appear authoritative. “Now I demand that you tell me why you are here.”

  “Can you see him?” she asked, pointing to an empty spot in the room, and ignoring his question. The confused look on his face was the only answer she needed. “How interesting. You can see me, but not the dead?”

  She abruptly broke eye contact and began to walk around the room, staring at the late pontiffs remains as she strolled back and forth. Dominic stood still not knowing what to make of the situation before him. All of a sudden, she stopped and appeared to be listening to someone. Suddenly, she had her eyes on him again. Her facial expressions giving away her confusion. His head began to ache again, but this time it was much worse. That’s when he saw it, the pope was standing only a few feet from his own body and pointing to Dominic.

  He was nearly transparent, but as the seconds past, he became more solid. Dominic turned to the door hoping the cardinal returned soon. When he turned back to the woman in black, and she was suddenly standing in front of him again. He fell to the floor in fear as she hovered over him.

  How did she move so quickly from the window?

  What the hell does she want?

  Is she going to kill me?

  …Can she kill me?

  Dominic’s thoughts raced through his head as she stood over him. “What do you want!” he screamed.

  The door opened, and Dominic turned to see Cardinal Consalvi and a few priests enter the room.

  “My son, what is wrong? What has happened?” Consalvi asked as one of the priests bent down to comfort the frightened man. Dominic turned to see the visitor had vanished into thin air. He quickly glanced around the room before his eyes landed back into the concerned gazes of the other men.

  “I am fine, everything is fine. Please forgive me for interrupting the care of His Holiness,” he said unconvincingly as he rose to his feet with the assistance of the priest.

  Consalvi came to Dominic’s side and rested a hand on his shoulder. He looked him over with a worried gaze. “You need to rest, go to your quarters and take some time. The Holy Father has been with us for many years. Though your time with him was short, I’m sure you feel the loss just the same as us all.”

  Usually, Dominic would have objected, he had a strong natural contempt for being perceived as vulnerable. This time he felt drained, both emotionally and physically. He gave a weak bow and left the room.

  CHAPTER 2

  1756: Atlantic Ocean

  Audrey sat in the corner of the captain quarters, adjusting her long legs for comfort. The spacious room was beautifully decorated and undoubtedly belonged to a man of good means. A sizeable ornate bed with golden fixtures sat in the center of the bedroom. As she lay there chained to the floor, she wondered if it would be the last thing she'd see death or if she would ever see dry land again.

  The ship had been at sea for only a few weeks after leaving the Bahamas. She had given up seeing her family again. Her father, Tobias, was a free man on the island but had fallen on hard times. After the sudden death of his wife the year before, he sank into a depression intensified by alcohol. His work suffered and to make ends meet he borrowed heavily. When the time came to pay, he couldn’t. His lender offered him only one way out of his debt, Audrey. His oldest child and only daughter, she was one of the most beautiful women on the island. Her deep brown skin that was soft as silk made every man on the island who laid eyes on her fall in love.

  Tobias refused to give her up, declaring he’d rather die. His children were all he had, and he couldn’t let them suffer because of his actions. Audrey knew her father would be murdered, then she and her brothers separated and sold into slavery. After her mother died, she filled her role and took care of her younger siblings. She now had to make the hardest decision of her life: sacrifice herself or watch her family destroyed.

  That night as the rest of her family slept, she left her home for the last time. When her father awoke the next day and saw she was gone, he knew what she had done. His attempts to get her back were to no avail. His only option was to pay twice what he owed to get her back. To assure he did not attempt to take her by force, the lives of his three remaining children were threatened. With Tobias unable to find the money, Audrey was soon sold to Captain John Barrows, whose ship she now resided on.

  The past few weeks had been emotional and physical torture for her. He used her as only a vile human would, but she endured. Lately, she had become ill and tried to hide it as best as she could. She’d once heard him ordering his quartermaster to throw a sick crewman overboard. She knew if he saw any weakness in her, she would be next.

  The door opened and Audrey, expecting it to be the captain, did her best to appear healthy. She kept her head to the floor, but when she did not hear the heavy boots he wore, she lifted it slowly. To her surprise, a woman stood a few feet in front of her. She reminded Audrey of her late mother. Tall with dark skin and a kind face. Dressed in black with a hooded cape, she stepped forward and began to kneel down until they faced each other.

  “Who are you?” Audrey asked cautiously with her strong Caribbean accent. The woman smiled, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a flask and a piece of bread. She handed it to Audrey who nervously took it from her. Audrey opened the container and gave it a quick sniff, rum. She quickly drank the liquor while stuffing her mouth with bread. The rations of food and water she was given were barely enough for anyone to survive on.

  Audrey looked up at the visitor as she finished the bottle. “Thank you, I’m starving. Why are you so nice to me? Who are you?”

  “I am many things to many people. Some would say I am the inevitable,” she responded with a British accent.

  Audrey thought for a minute until it finally hit her.

  “You are the Angel of Death, aren’t you?” The visitor smiled and nodded. Audrey laughed and gave a sigh of relief. “I will finally be free. He will no longer have me, and I will be free.” With a happy sigh, she fell back against the wall.

  “You’re not going to die yet.”

  “What?” Audrey looked up with frustration. “The only way I am getting off this ship is dead. I have accepted that. I welcome it!” she yelled in frustration. “If you are not here to take my soul, then
why are you here?”

  “I want to offer you an opportunity,” Death responded. “Yes, your time is short, but so is mine,” Death stated pointing to her own body. “This body is a vessel, and I will need a new one, and you are very special.”

  Death paused to let everything she’d just revealed to Audrey soak in before she continued.

  “I must confess, I am not an “angel” so to speak. I am an entity created by the universe to ensure a balance between life and death in humans. I belong to no religion and answer to no god. My job is simply to guarantee a death occurs at its set time and assure souls make it to the afterlife; usually, there have been exceptions. I’m here because every thousand years or so I need a new vessel. My own soul is hard for most humans to hold, but once every millennium, one is born that can. You are one.”

  Death paused again, taking the flask of rum from Audrey’s shaking hands.

  “What I’m about to say will not be easy to hear. You have noticed how ill you’ve been getting lately?” Death asked. “In about eight months you will give birth to a child, and you will not survive the birth.”

  Audrey stared at Death with tearful eyes. Her entire body was now shaking as she held her stomach with both hands. “What will happen to my child?” she asked. “Will he allow it to live without a mother to nurse from?”

  Death hesitated before speaking. “I cannot reveal the fate of another with a living being, and I doubt you’d want to know. In fact, I am only telling you of your own death so that you know how much time you have to make your decision. I cannot enter your body without consent. I will come to you on the day you die, and I will ask you again.”

  For a few moments, there was nothing but silence between them.

  “Just last year I was so happy. My mother was alive, my father and brothers all happy. How quickly life changes. I thought we were so blessed to be free, but here I am in chains looking forward to my own death.” She spoke softly with a distant look in her eyes.

  Audrey suddenly started firing questions. “What do I get in exchange for this? Will you make my death quick and painless? Can I see my mother again?”