Death taker, p.1
Death Taker, page 1
Death Taker
LARK MORGAN
BOOK THREE
J. C. MCKENZIE
Contents
Books by J. C. McKenzie
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
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Characters
Acknowledgments
Barghest Mating Guide
Next book title
About the Author
Books by J. C. McKenzie
The Lark Morgan Series
Death Stealer (prequel)
Death Maker
Death Raiser
Death Taker
Isle and Eyrie Series
Cormorant Run
Heir of the Eyrie
House of Moon and Stars
The Night House
House of Chaos
Crawford Investigations
Conspiracy of Ravens
Nevermore
Queen of Corvids
The Call of Corvids
From the Shadows
Into the Fire
Dark Legacy
Embrace the Flame
The Carus Series
Shift Happens
Beast Coast
Carpe Demon
Shift Work
Beast of All
Obsidian Flame
Dangerous Dreams
Dangerous Liaisons
Dangerous Decisions
That Old Black Magic
The Good Griffin
Standalones
Immortal Throne (with Harper A. Brooks)
Call of the Deep (The Shucker’s Booktique)
Stormbound (Be My Love)
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Death Taker
COPYRIGHT © 2023 by J. C. McKenzie
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: jcmckenzie@jcmckenzie.ca
Cover Art: Tricia Beninato
Character Art: Kalynne_Art
Publishing History:
First JCM Publications Edition, 2023
ISBN: 978-1-990143-28-1 (print)
ISBN: 978-1-990143-29-8 (ebook)
To all the dreamers who look at the shadows and wonder, “what if?”
Thank you.
Canadian Disclaimer
You're entering the creative domain of a Canadian author. There will be a combination of British and American spellings, a combination of measurement systems, and maybe even a little French thrown in to spice things up.
You've been warned...
Content Warning
This book contains explicit language, open-door sex scenes (yes, finally), ghosts, spirits, souls, skeletons, bones, violence, blood magic, necromancy, and animal sacrifices. This book also contains death, grief, and loss.
Please read with care.
“A gift from the sea of the dead is the key to the door of the living.”
THE BOOK OF LIFE
Lark Morgan’s Rules to Necromancy
Lark Morgan’s Rules to Necromancy
Never use your own blood
Never meet the Lord of the Veil
Never run into a barghest
Never reveal your lineage
Never take more than you need
Chapter
One
“Where do you think you’re going?” My brother’s booming voice stopped me at the door leading out of our two-bedroom apartment.
The noise from the traffic outside filtered through the weak seals around our apartment’s windows, and the news reporter on the television in the other room dutifully announced a story about another werewolf sighting, but what I fixated on was the mixture of judgement and worry in my twin’s voice.
With my hand grasping the metal doorknob, I hesitated. “We talked about this.”
“The fuck we did. Get your ass back here.”
I sighed and turned around, my leather outfit creaking with the movement. Logan’s pained expression stabbed at my heart. “It’s been a week, Logan. It’s time for me to venture outside. You can’t keep me in bubble wrap forever.”
Logan crossed his arms over his chest, the thin, cotton shirt stretching over his muscles. At six foot three, my twin was a taller, stronger, masculine version of myself. He had the same black-brown hair, piercing blue eyes, fair skin, and attitude problem. “You were stalked by an unknown rose-giving weirdo, abducted and shot by a sadistic murderer, and nearly magically coerced into a deal with the Lord of the Veil.”
“And I survived,” I pointed out. “Steve is dead, and the Lord of the Veil kept his oath and let me go. And I no longer owe him a favour. Win, win.”
“You were shot.” His expression darkened, the shadows around the room clinging to his features. “And the roses?”
“Stopped,” I said. “I received a grand total of two—one outside our apartment door and one inside my room. I know Steve said he wasn’t responsible, but as you pointed out, he was a fucked up serial killer. He probably lied.” While I could detect when the dead lied, or at least tried to lie, from the flare of death energy, I had no such ability with drabs.
“And if it wasn’t him?”
“You probably scared them off with all your safety precautions, but I have no less than three knives strapped to me just in case some random person tries to approach me with flowers. I refuse to live the rest of my life closeted away in my apartment and supervised by my overprotective twin with stab first, ask questions later tendencies.”
Logan vibrated, his gaze darting to the door as if calculating whether he could beat me to it and lock me in. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back. “How’s the arm?”
I moved my arm up and down, kind of like I performed half a chicken dance. That wasn’t the vibe I was going for. I dropped my arm. “All good.”
Logan narrowed his gaze.
“Okay, it aches. And the skin is still healing. But I’m cleared for duty, sir.” I mock saluted, probably getting the form horrifically wrong.
Logan glowered, but he didn’t tackle me to the ground. And when I reached for the door handle for the second time, he didn’t move to stop me.
“You just want to see your cop boyfriend.” His scowl turned into a smirk.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Sucking his face half off after I survived a murder attempt suggested otherwise, but I hadn’t seen Kang since he brought me home.
“He’s something.”
I flipped up my middle finger at Logan and opened the door. Instinctively, I checked the floor in the hallway. No roses. Had something happened to the person behind it? Like maybe he got ripped to shreds by a barghest on his personal Murder Island? Or, if the roses hadn’t been from Steve, did the unknown person just give up? Take a hint? Or were they biding their time so they could also take a shot at abducting me? Did psychos take a number to see who was next in line?
I shivered and my arm ached at the reminder of what happened a week ago.
“You should stay home,” Logan shouted as I closed the door.
I ignored him and the ice clinging to my spine. Logan was probably right—I should stay home. But I just couldn’t stand staring at the walls, leafing through my copy of Dad’s missing persons case, or mindlessly scrolling through social media with all the fake smiles anymore. The online therapy sessions—compliments of victim services—had helped a little, but I itched for everything to return to normal.
With a deep sigh, I hiked my purse on my shoulder and walked down the hall to the stairs to make my way outside. The fresh air hitting my face brushed away some of my worries and fears. The weather was in that sweet spot between summer and fall, where the days were still nice and clear, but the nights cooled off completely. Soon the rain would start and it wouldn’t stop for months, so I had to enjoy this weather while it lasted.
The sky had that striking shade of dark blue that faded into inky black. The moon shone down on me, while the crickets and katydids made their final songs of the season. They’d disappear once the temperatures dropped, and I’d miss their music during the night. Some people hated the persistent noise they made, but to me they heralded late summer nights and memories of good times.
At least until recently.
I turned the corner and skidded to a stop.
A tall man with striking golden eyes and long brown hair that gently fell to his shoulders stepped back into the shadows of the alleyway, but it was too late. I’d spotted him.
“Pierre?” I called out.
The young vampire stepped out of the alley, his head bent, his back hunched. He looked like a kid who knew he’d been naughty and was about to get yelled at.
Geez. I wasn’t his mom, and he wasn’t in trouble.
Pierre wore dark jeans and a black hoodie, but he didn’t suit the contemporary outfit. With his long hair, pale face, and the stoic way he carried himself with a stiff back, he’d be better suited wearing the elaborately embroidered coats with large cuffs, long waistcoats with intricate woven patterns made with variously coloured silk threads, and matching breeches reminiscent of the French Rococo era.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. Pierre was the first baby vampire I’d raised for the Master Vampire of Victoria as a part of a deal we’d brokered. In return, Gregor healed Mom’s blood from sanguimort, the illness that plagued her. What Gregor didn’t realize was I could control vampires with my death magic. If he ever found out, he’d either kill me or find some way to irrevocably bind me to him for all eternity.
No, thank you.
I liked my freedom.
Pierre walked over to me and took my hand to press a chaste kiss on my knuckles. “You’ve caught me, Ms. Morgan,” he said, his voice a rich purr. His golden gaze met mine. “I was spying on you.”
“For Gregor?”
He shook his head and gently dropped my hand. “For myself.”
I frowned, not sure why Pierre would want or need to spy on me at all.
“I’m worried about you.”
Oh.
Well.
Given my recent track record, that was a legitimate concern. I worried about myself, too. “Any particular reason why?”
He shook his head with a small smile. “Do I need to specify? You’re still indebted to Gregor. You were recently abducted by a serial killer, and you’re constantly placing yourself in unnecessary danger. I have lots of cause to worry.”
I’d ask how he knew about the abduction, but if he’d spied on me, he probably overheard Logan losing his shit on more than one occasion. My twin had demanded I raise Steve, my would-be killer so he could beat the crap out of his corpse, but I’d refused. Steve’s remains were on Murder Island, and I never wanted to return to that place.
“Do you know of some looming threat to my personal safety?” I asked instead. “Or is this a general warning?”
Pierre sighed dramatically and briefly glanced up at the moon as if to ask for help. “Please, Ms. Morgan. Be careful.”
“Did my brother put you up to this?”
Pierre frowned. “I’m not in contact with your brother, though I know of him.”
I snapped my mouth shut, not sure what to say to that. Logan was an assassin who did a lot of work for the underground glamy community, but he wasn’t supposed to be well-known by anyone. When people discovered his identity, it usually followed with their deaths. Gregor knew the name of my brother, obviously, and had even met him once. But did he know more than that and shared the information with Pierre? Was I overthinking Pierre’s comment?
“I can hear the gears turning in that mind of yours,” Pierre said, mischief flashing in his gaze and a smile tugging at his lips. “You should never play poker.”
I scowled. “What exactly do you know about my brother?”
“More than Gregor, and I’ll do everything to keep it that way,” Pierre said.
“Why?” I asked. “Why would you go against your master like that?”
“You led me out of the veil, ma belle,” Pierre whispered. He’d said something similar to me before. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
“But I should fear Gregor?” I asked.
I always had a healthy dose of respect and fear for Gregor, he was the Master Vampire of Victoria, after all, and ruled by blood, but Pierre’s words seemed to imply something else had shifted to place me in more danger.
“He doesn’t trust you,” Pierre said.
Well, the feeling was mutual.
Chapter
Two
I stepped under the police tape blocking off the familiar busy Victoria intersection and swore. After parting ways with Pierre, I had made my way to the crime scene. Kang had texted with the location over an hour ago, asking me to consult on the case, and after my confrontation with my brother and chatting with Pierre, I was late.
The night air was thick with the power of death and the pulsing red and blue lights from police vehicles cast an eerie glow over the active scene. In the middle of the intersection, a white tarp covered what was presumably a body.
“About fucking time, Morgan.” Detective Kang, wearing plain clothes and a sour expression, stomped over to me. Tall, with broad shoulders, chiselled features, smooth skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes, Connor Kang was a sight to behold during any of his emotional states.
Right now, he wore anger really well.
“Good to see you, too, Detective.” I might’ve used a sarcastic tone, but I meant every word. God, he looked good. Though he had different ancestry, he always reminded me of a younger Keanu Reeves.
My mind flashed back to our kiss last week. He’d stamped his claim on me with his tongue as we stood over the bloody remains of my would-be killer. I would’ve gladly done more with him, but he’d dropped an absolute truth bomb on me, and my brain had short-circuited. The trip home had been quiet. I’d sat in the passenger seat of Kang’s car, shaking from shock while he drove. He’d held my hand the entire time until he delivered me to my apartment and my over-protective brother.
Logan had shouted at Kang, but the detective calmly stood in the face of my twin’s rage and quietly explained the events and provided information on how to get in touch with a good therapist.
I’d taken the week off work and Logan only allowed me out of the house—under his supervision—to go into the precinct to make a formal statement. Kang hadn’t been there, but I didn’t need to talk to him to know it was best to leave out the part where Steve got ripped to shreds by a glamy when I made my statement.
Drabs—or non-magical humans—might accept the existence of supernatural beings, but they sure as heck didn’t like it. We still missed out on job opportunities and security, but at least we had the better nickname. Referred to as glamies for our ability to cast glamour, even though most of us didn’t have the skill—myself included—magical beings had been out of the supernatural closet since the Awakening forty years ago. Society still had a long way to go toward acceptance and empathy, but even with all the crap flung my way, I’d rather be a glamy than a drab any day.
“How are you?” Kang’s rumbling voice interrupted my thoughts. He’d dropped his voice and his expression softened.
I tightened my hands into fists and straightened my back. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” Something dark flashed in Kang’s gaze and he pressed his lips together while he studied me for a tense moment. “Okay. Let’s pretend I believe that. Do you want to explain why the victim of that search you asked me to do last week just showed up in my crime scene?”
