Tag: Author Delizhia

Sin: Daughter of the Grim Reaper (WIP)

Chapter 1

There is nothing neither simple nor easy about being the daughter of the Grim Reaper: a descendent of death. My father is a terrifying son of a bitch with a penchant for pain that is out of this world. I should know, he trained me in everything that I know. Growing up in the pits of hell was never pleasant. You get to see horrific shit that you don’t want to see and come to understand truths that will rip into the very fabric of your soul. Humans are stupid. I have come to understand that as well, especially the ones who refuse to believe in the concepts of both Heaven and Hell. I have been to Heaven, once with my father. He asked me to accompany him on his tour through the pearly gates. Of course, being what we are, we were only allowed into the first realm before quickly being escorted out by the Warrior Angels. I was told by a messenger angel once that once the war was over, when humans were set free of the spiritual chains that sent them to my father’s doorstep, we would be allowed entry. But until then, Hell is where it is.

My name is Sin and I am named after the curse inflicted upon mankind for his disobedience. My father is the Grim Reaper, also known as the Angel of Death, and the most feared and revered of all of the spiritual entities that hide behind the veil that separates the living from the dead. As of right now, I play many roles on my father’s behalf and one of those roles is that similar to what humans call a bounty hunter. For instance, every once and a while some schmo attempts to cheat my father of his due by going to a strong witch and after paying a hefty fee (his soul usually) she turns him into a thing of the night: zombie, vampire, etc… When that happens, my job along with a few other trained killers is to come up and bring that entity down where he belongs: in hell. I also go after witches, warlocks, and anyone else that tries to tamper with the natural order of things. Occasionally, I am sent up as a hired assassin by my father. Sometimes humans get a little beside themselves and decide that it is a great idea to use science to eradicate the entire human populations or a select group emerges from the cesspool of science and tries to play God by tampering with DNA in hopes of creating something that would ultimately destroy the human race. I am what one would consider the last resort before God decides to move his hand, and trust me, He is pretty close to doing it again. Of course, He did send His Son a couple of thousand years ago, which ultimately stalled out everything out, but the Big War is coming and what I do is try to keep humans from inadvertently starting it at least before the pregame show.

In human years, I am around thirty years old. I am actually half human. My father was roaming the earth as usual; seeking out those whose number had been called and had not been allowed entrance into Heaven when he stumbled upon my mother, who was a successful lounge singer at the time. And so the story unfolds in the same manner as any story where a nonhuman entity falls for a human: he disguised himself as a human, seduced her and nine months later I was born. She did not survive the birth however, and my father in a rare moment of guilt did not send her to hell. He placed her in a realm that is neither Heaven nor Hell where she would remain comfortably until the end of the Big War. As for me, he took me away from human hands and raised me in Hell where I have remained ever since. I do not get to see my mother much because good old Grim thinks that would activate my human side too strongly and he needed me to free from human emotions.

Thanks dad. You are the absolute greatest…not!

I spend most of my days sparring with demons who envy me with a passion. They are at the command of a being I really want nothing to do with while I maintain my free will…oh and it does hurt their feelings a little bit that I have an actual physical body. They have to utilize abilities such as possession and even soul snatching in order to manifest fully among the living. There are very few of them that managed to maintain their original solid forms, but those who were capable were of stronger angelic breeding prior to the fall. Most of the time, outside of the sparring, they don’t bother me. Every once in a blue moon do I encounter one whose attitude needs an adjustment, but other than that I have no worries.

Being the daughter of the Grim Reaper has its perks as well as its downside. My father can be a real prick sometimes with his rules and zero tolerance for disobedience. For instance when I was sixteen, I decided to sneak out through a half opened portal that one of the lesser demons left behind in hopes of creating a path of my own. I had barely stepped out of the veil and into a small town in southern Mississippi when good old dad comes charging out of night sky on a chariot made completely of brimstone and fire. Not only did he destroy the entire town with a level five tornado but he snatched me by my robing with his cold, bony hand and dragged my ass back to hell and locked me deep in the Abaddon pits (which is the deepest, darkest pit in all of hell and where pure evil thrives) for an entire year. For 365 days I had to fight for survival using every technique I had learned from daddy’s private lessons. By the time Grim had remembered where he had placed his black and beating heart and released me, I was half starved, gravelly wounded and longing for revenge.

I still owe him one for that.

There was also the time when I turned 21 and I had fallen for one of his demon warriors. The guy was well over six feet, built like a brick house with massive black wings that extended to a full eight feet when spread. Long raven dark hair fell in waves across his shoulders, while his eyes burned with a red hot heat that I simply could not resist. We had been on several missions together and one night temptation reared its ugly head and I gave up my maidenhood to one of my father’s best men, thankfully not in Hell but on an island somewhere inside the Bermuda Triangle. It was the best night of my life, but I should have known better. I have lived in a realm where someone is always watching, and being that I am daughter of the Grim Reaper did not leave me the exception. I am willing to bet it was one of those holier than thou angels that take their guardianship over the humans a little too seriously because not even 24 hours after I cried out to the heavens (multiple times) word had gotten back to my father and he had his best warrior executed. The poor guy is still being tormented somewhere in one of the many levels of Hell. As for me? I was banished from visiting the earth realm; stripped entirely of my position as head bounty hunter, and left to wander around the various levels until I either went mad from pure boredom or died from the mundanity of it all.

Of course Grim came to his senses after six months when one of the Hell Hounds broke loose and I am the only one capable of bringing them back without having to harm them. And then shortly after that, a small civil war broke out between succubae and the harpies and who has the diplomacy to work that out? You guessed it, me. And then not even a month later, a very brave soul of a former rapist and serial killer managed to escape his chains and stole Grim’s Scythe before returning to the human world to wreak pure havoc. Again it was me whom my father sent to go after the bastard and clean up whatever mess he made. The founder and creator of Hell showed absolutely no gratitude whatsoever, he just blew me off without so much as a thank you, but dad was pretty happy. Well, as happy as an Angel of Death could possibly be. I was fully reinstated back to head bounty hunter and was given my freedom and now here I am.

Hell is in an uproar again. Humans are still being stupid and my father has gotten himself into a world of trouble. A human has gotten ahold of the first seal of the Apocalypse and the Warrior Angels think it is my father who is responsible. My father’s fate rests solely in my hands as does the rest of the world, so I have been released into the earth realm to not only find the seal and return it to the powers that be and drag the foolish soul down to hell where he belongs. My name is Sin, and I am the Grim Reaper’s daughter, and this is my story.imagesZ729TBJI

Viper: Final Excerpt

Viper: Final Excerpt

Molecular travel gives me an interesting advantage. I get to see shit that I don’t want to see, and I get to see shit that is beneficial to me, and not one of the humans that bypass is none the wiser. Somewhere in these walls Michael was on lock down with two or three other criminals awaiting trial. I bypass several other officers underneath the bright lighting of the hospital sterile hallway and on the elevator. I can sense the presence of a non-human entity, and the most I can do is remain hopeful that it is Michael and not something else. Werewolves had the most advantage when it comes to blending in with humans because they are human-until they shift, but for the most part they can live pretty normal lives without having their jobs or relationships impacted. It would not surprise me if I came across a werewolf who happened to be a cop or some other jail house worker. My main concern is though I remain undetected in this state of invisibility, a wolf can sense me without ever having to see me, and I do not need a physical encounter with a known enemy.

I continue moving through the airwaves, navigating the second and third floors, eavesdropping on what was supposed to be private but non work related conversations, and ignoring the various combinations of blood scents and my increasing thirst. How I would love to sink my teeth into the neck on one of these hot blooded and self righteous cops…as soon as my thoughts shift to my more basic needs, I catch Michael’s scent just down the hall in one of the many locked cells that contained men awaiting their day in court. A custody assistant is locking the cell containing an inmate clearly high off of some sort of hallucinogen. I can smell the toxin coursing its way through his veins, pumping straight into his heart and forcing its way to his brain. He reeks of a sour, musty odor, evidence of his lack of personal hygiene; his eyes are wide and wild with confusion and panic; and he glanced over in my direction, where I hovered in molecular form and screamed in terror. The officer, a white man in his early thirties with a receding hair line, looking slightly unnerved shoved the inmate inside and locked the door, before hurrying off to put in some much needed space between himself and the drug addict. In the room next to him sat Michael, along with two other roommates who seem to be more concerned with their personal issues rather than the excitement that had taken place right outside of their door.

Michael senses my presence because he glances up from the cot on which he sat, solemnly with his hands folded in his lap. He looks across from him on the bunk beds, where a wannabe hardened thug lay spread eagled on the top bunk, in his oversized orange jump suit and unkempt afro, and then on the bottom bunk sat a preppy looking white kid, no older than 22 with that Justin Bieber styled hair and scrawny body. I hope that Michael has sense enough to not alert his two best friends that there was another presence close by, and thankfully he doesn’t as he returns his gaze back to his folded hands. Just outside his door is an air vent. Perfect. I can slip in through the vent and into his cell, feed and then dematerialize both of us out of this shit hole without a second thought.

Once inside the vent, for dramatic purposes I filter myself out as a mist, and creating a set of bewildered looks from the two wannabe’s. I only do this when I have a particular man of wealth and power and who is use to extending his hands as if he is a living persona of godhood, and I need him to know that he is not in control: I am. It is a perfect method in creating an atmosphere of terror, and I love the kick that adrenaline gives me. I filter out of the vent in a cool white mist, like the morning fog that blankets the busy city streets into my solid form and then as usual…all hell breaks loose. Why can’t things just run smoothly for me?

The wannabe thug screams like a little bitch, and in a flash I silence him with a snap to his neck. The prep turns a ghostly white, his blue eyes wide like a deer caught in some headlights, and without thinking I snatch him in a vicelike grip and sink my fangs into his throat in a cobra like strike. Michael watches with an amused sort of curiosity, yet I am too consumed in the richness of this young man’s warm blood as it fills my belly and calms my thirst. The fire in my throat is gone, and the muscle cramps in my gut have eased. Now I can focus.

Several officers obviously heard the commotion and came rounding the corner like a heard of buffalo. I break the handle to the door and motion for Michael to follow me. I don’t have time to clean up after myself so I grab Preppy’s body and sling it over my shoulder for future disposal. In my twenty years of living my life in the shadows, I have yet to create any progeny of my own and I am not about to now. We are greeted by at least five officers, two of which are on their walkies demanding back up, the other three with their guns drawn. Michael, who happens to be standing to my left takes a fighter’s stance, which instantly pissed me off. He should have done that shit prior to his arrest. “Freeze! Don’t move!” An older, more seasoned officer commands; his knees bent and his heart rate steady. I glare at him, and use my will to force him into submission. The other officers glance at each other uneasily and one even takes a step back. “Don’t move!” Another commands boldly. I maintain my focus on the seasoned officer, my will crushing his psyche, twisting the very confounds of his mind until he buckles from the mental pressure. I tighten my hold, bending his will until it snaps and he cries out in agony. I crack his cranium without having to move anything but my will. He drops to the floor sobbing, his ears bleeding, his peers rush to his aid, and another one shoots. I step to the side, barely dodging the bullet that had my name on it, and in a blur too quick for the human eye, I decapitate all five officers. The inmates scream in terror, their cries echoing throughout the halls in a chorus of fear. I gotta get out of here before more reinforcements come, and I can hear their heavy hurried and desperate movements scattering about the halls. I grab hold of Michael and dematerialize all three of us (if you count Preppy’s dead and drained body) to the one room dungeon where Damien had stood guard over my unconscious body.

And thank God he wasn’t there.