Jessica Ruddick - Retribution

Table of Contents

Copyright @ 2017 by Jessica Ruddick

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 author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Paper and Sage Design

Edited by Judy Roth

ISBN 978-1-946164-02-5

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I STARED DOWN THE SMOOTH metal of the gun and slowly squeezed the trigger, holding my arms steady. The bullet hit the black part of the bulls-eye. Not the center but close. Id gotten so much better recently. No more spaghetti arms, no more locked elbows.

Grinning, I lowered my arms and looked over my shoulder at my teacher, also known as Cole, the guy who made me weak in the knees on a daily basis. Wed been practicing at the gun range for the last few weeks.

I was proud of me and he dang well better be, too. I removed the protective earwear that made me look like Princess Leia.

Cole hit the button and the target came speeding toward us. He yanked it off the clip. Not bad.

I beamed at his praise, which was high coming from him. Trust mehe didnt hand it out lightlybut Id definitely earned it. I think Im ready to upgrade.

He looked down at me and his grin quickly fell off his face. Oh, youre serious?

Yes, Im serious! You said once I could handle the .22 youd let me practice with the 9mm.

He pointed to the bullet hole in the target. You didnt hit the center. You havent mastered the .22 yet.

Perhaps I should have referred to him as Cole, the guy who made me want to punch him in the face on a daily basis. Because seriously?

I crossed my arms. Close enough. Besides, I need to be ready. The 9mm barely slowed him down before. What good is a .22?

The lightheartedness was sucked from the air as if by a vacuum, and I almost wished I could take back my words. Even though wed had fun at the range, Id never forgotten the reason we were here.

I could never forget I was a seeker for the Grim Reaper. Or that Xavier was out there somewhere.

Coles eyes darkened and his hands curled into fists, crumpling my paper target.

Do you think hes coming back?

I dont know, I answered honestly. But I want to be ready for him.

My last encounter with Xavier nearly killed me, and it did kill Cole. Literally. Watching the life bleed out of him and not being able to stop it

The air left my lungs, and taking deep breaths, I turned away from Cole. He didnt know about the nightmares that plagued me. And I didnt want him to. He felt guilty about the whole situation. Like it was his fault Id given his name to Xavier. Like it was his fault Grim Reapers had tried to kill him as a result. Like it was his fault hed died and Id made the deal with an angel to bring him back to life at a cost he wasnt even aware of.

Yeah, Cole still didnt know he was now a seeker like me. That was what happened when my angel ancestor used his own blood to bring Cole back to life. So now Cole was technically part of that angels line. Did that make us related in some weird, crazy way?

I wasnt thinking about that one too deeply.

And I wasnt spilling the beans yet, either. One dayprobably soonCole would come into abilities, and I would have some explaining to do. Until then, ignorance was bliss.

Hey, Cole whispered in my ear and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. I breathed in his clean scent, leaning back against him. Dont worry. I wont let anything happen to you.

Guilt washed over me in a tidal wave so high I felt like I was drowning. Would he feel the same way when he learned the truth?

I WATCHED COLE DRIVE AWAY in the Rustinator. I was hoping that after wed borrowed some nicer, newer cars a while back, he might feel the need to upgrade, but nope. He was freakishly devoted to that heap of a car. Any day now I expected for us to come out to the parking lot and find it had disintegrated into a pile of rusty dust. But who was I to complain? I barely had my license, much less a car. And I especially wasnt going to whine about Coles loyal nature. I more than reaped the benefits of that trait.

I trudged up the stairs to my apartment, unwinding my scarf as I went. Southeastern Virginia didnt have particularly harsh winters, but it had been especially cold recently. On the second landing, I stopped abruptly, sniffing the air.

Is that cinnamon?

Oh, shit. Oh, no.

My hearted pounded as I took the remaining steps two at a time, not stopping until I was just outside our door. I smelled again. Nothing. Cautiously, I unlocked the door as quietly as I could and paused for another sniff test. Still nothing.

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. It must just be the neighbors baking something. Xavier wasnt back.

God, would I ever be able to endure the scent of cinnamon without it inducing a panic attack? I rubbed the faint scar on my wrist from where Xavier had broken it. Although it was fading, hed left his mark in more ways than one.

I stepped into our apartment and it was nearly as cold in our living room as it was outside.

Sighing, I hung my coat on the hook behind the door. My mom still wasnt one-hundred percent after an attack by Xavier left her unconscious and in the hospital for nearly a week. That meant she wasnt working, which meant money was tight. Ergo, keeping the thermostat at an ungodly temperature to keep the bills low. I didnt like it. It wasnt good for her health. Id put in some job applications, but businesses were letting employees go in the post-Christmas rush, not hiring them.

I started to call out to my mom but thought better of it. I was glad I did when I found her asleep in the living room on the couch under a pile of blankets. I tiptoed toward the kitchen, leaving her to rest.

Our pantry was nearly bare. Same with our fridge, but we did have a few eggs. Scrambled eggs for dinner, then. I cracked them into a bowl and splashed a bit of milk in as well before whisking them with a fork. Then I poured the mixture into a pan on the stove.

I leaned against the counter to wait, spatula in hand. I wished we had some bread. Some toast or something would have been nice.

A letter on the counter caught my eye, so I picked it up. My eyes didnt make it past the bold red writing at the top: Final Eviction Notice.

My eyes bugged out of their sockets. Final notice? As in there had been more than one and my mom never bothered to mention it?

My gaze flickered back to the letter. We had until the end of next week to either pay up or get out.

I didnt mean for you to see that.

I spun around to find my mom in the doorway, still wrapped in a blanket.

Obviously. When were you going to tell me?

She pursed her lips and I knew the answernever