Railed by the Reaper by Dalia Davies EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Author: Dalia Davies
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal Demons & Devils Romance
- Format: PDF / ePub
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Don’t Fear the Reaper
She’s young. Barely ninety-two years old. But those years have finally
begun to weigh on her.
I wonder what that’s like.
Folding towels, I watch her through the mirror as she goes about her
Old women form habits.
Whisper sweet nothings to the plants, check the windows are locked,
smooth the doileys on the back of the couch….
But she turns her gaze on me as she sits in her favourite chair. Her eyes
are startlingly clear tonight.
“Do you know what your problem is, Onna?”
I smile down at the towel as I set it on the small stack. “I’m sure you’ll
Turning back to her, I wait. The elderly lose all discretion this close to
the end. They’ll admit to murder, affairs, all sorts of crimes. And they love
to dispense advice.
Sometimes it’s useful.
“You’re too old,” she says, mouth screwing up in a frustrated purse.
“Too old to be this damn young.”
That scowl is equal parts amusement and displeasure.
Raising a single brow, I smile because the only other option is to cringe.
She doesn’t know how accurate she is.
“Don’t try to deny it. You flit around never really here, never really
there, but I’ve known since the day you knocked on my door.” Her smile is
too wide for her face, her eyes a little wild. “You come and you go and
always Death follows…. But he never catches you, does he?”
How to answer that question…. Certainly not with the truth.
“I can see that mind of yours ticking. You’re trying to think of a way to
lie to me.”
She stamps her cane on the floor like it’s her foot and lets out a long
sigh. “You saw my grandmother out of this world, godchild. I’m old, but I
remember the woman who appeared and disappeared just long enough to
hand her off to Death. Yours is a face I was never going to forget.”
That makes one of us.
I don’t remember what I look like until I see myself in the mirror, and
even then, it’s not the face I was born with. Black hair that wouldn’t hold a
curl if I glued it, brown eyes so dark I seem to have no iris at all. And my
skin… too many well-meaning doctors have tried to convince me I need a
transfusion. But it’s not anemia that makes me this pale.
“So, why are you still alive?” She glares at me. “The gods’ children
aren’t immortal, and yet… here you are. Looking exactly like you did when
I was a little girl.”
What’s the harm in telling her?
This is the last time she’ll fall asleep. She has no time left to tell my
“No, we don’t live forever.”
My sister and I are the only godchildren who have found our slivers of
But how I achieved mine is a secret I promised my mother I would
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