How to Survive Your Own Death (The Reaper’s Mate #1)

Chapter 1

GERI

Geri died. A little. She was feeling better. A little.

It was complicated, all right? No one even mentioned that coming back from the dead came with strings. It was all tunnels of light and hearing their loved ones calling for them. Maybe that happened for most people, but not for Geri. Hers involved a lot more screaming.

It started with a ghost. Actually, scratch that. It started with a boy: Jaxon Jackson.

Yeah, insufferable. She knew. She knew. She heard all about it from her sister, Molly. She met Jaxon at the gym—her on the treadmill and him a basic gym bro. Let’s just say Geri wasn’t interested in him for conversation.

Shallow? Yes. A good time? Absolutely.

Geri was thirty-seven, divorced, thick and squishy. A good time without complications sounded perfect. Seeing as how her ex-husband was a complete cliche and left her for his assistant, she didn’t feel bad about having uncomplicated fun.

Yes, Molly had opinions about that, too.

She didn’t have much in the way of shared interests with Jaxon. He didn’t like cats, pizza, or sitting on his butt watching movies all weekend. He liked the outdoors. He liked nature, getting sweaty with bugs, and pulling pranks.

Geri didn’t mind getting sweaty as long as it was in air conditioning followed by showers.

As for the pranks, she could do without.

A rubber snake in the bed when she pulled back the covers or a fake mouse falling on her when she opened a cabinet in the kitchen.

They were all designed to make her jump and scream, which he found hilarious.

Her, less so. She asked him to knock it off and the pranks stopped. For a while, at least.

Too bad she didn’t say no to the hike in the great outdoors. In the sun. On an incline. In the humid air. Sweat collecting in all the squishy folds and crevices. Or the strap of her camera bag rubbing against her neck.

It was hell.

“Hold up,” Geri said, uncapping her water bottle. She took a swig of cold water. This was allegedly a beginner-friendly trail.

Allegedly.

Her calves burned. Her lower back ached. The camera bag weighed fifty pounds, despite only being five pounds that morning.

“I told you not to bring the camera. A hike isn’t like the treadmill,” Jaxon said, not stopping as he continued up the trail. He disappeared around a bend, vanishing into the trees.

“Yeah, no shit,” she muttered. No one would ever accuse her of being a fitness freak. The gym membership was meant to help manage her condition, to keep her joints strong and flexible. It was not meant to prepare her for late summer romps in the woods.

The trail was gorgeous, though. It began where the city ended and the suburbs sprawled. It followed an abandoned rail line and a creek through old growth trees. It was shaded, not too crowded for a Sunday afternoon, but also not so desolate that she needed to worry about her safety.

Geri glanced at the crushed gravel trail behind her. She should go back to the car and wait. Jaxon wasn’t going to slow down for her and she saw no reason to exhaust herself keeping up with him.

There was a stop nearby with a gorgeous view of the water, according to the trail map she downloaded that morning. It’d be a shame to get this far and not take some photos. A few landscapes for practice, then she’d go home and order a pizza.

Home sounded great. Pizza sounded better.

Decided, she pushed forward.

She rounded the corner. As promised, the trees cleared. The ground sloped down to the creek where dark water sparkled in the afternoon sun. A bridge—wooden, red, and picturesque—crossed the span and the trail continued on the other side.

Perfect.

She took a couple of photos and used her hand to shield the screen to check.

It was too bright to see the values. Even though all that could be adjusted with editing, it was gratifying to get it right.

She tried to remember the skills she learned in photography class, back in school a million years ago.

Back then she couldn’t afford a digital camera.

Now everything was digital and she couldn’t afford an old school film camera.

Not that she bought this camera. Well, bought with money. She did her time being married to Patrick and he wasn’t using it. Hell, he probably didn’t even notice it was gone. It had been gathering dust in a closet when Geri liberated it during the divorce.

Standing on the bridge, she got a photo of the creek and the trees. The leaves had just a hint of gold at the edge of vivid green. The dark water created the perfect mirror for the trees and the sky.

Nice. A bit bland, she decided as she checked the images on the screen.

Landscapes were always difficult. She had trouble making them dynamic. She should come back when the autumn colors were in full effect and doing their thing. No one could take a boring photo when the leaves were gold, red, and orange.

Wanting to get closer to the water, she carefully picked her way down the steep bank. Thick ivy covered the ground, hiding the uneven terrain. Going slow and moving deliberately, she avoided twisting her ankles.

Being at the water’s edge, only a few feet from the trail, felt like being removed from the modern world.

She crouched low to get a shot of water rushing over the rocks. Gorgeous. Certainly more interesting than her earlier shots.

A man with a large black dog stood on the bank above her, under the shade of the trees.

Other than inexplicably wearing a black hoodie in this heat, the guy was nothing remarkable.

In fact, he had that sweaty, sickly aura of a haunted Victorian doll.

But the dog was breathtaking. Tall. Majestic.

Thick fur that moved in the breeze. Alert eyes that tracked her every move.

That dog had charisma and she was sure she could capture it on film.

Geri approached, holding her camera in such a way that it was impossible to miss. “Hi. I’m Geri. Can I take a picture of your dog?”

What little color the man had drained away. He was pale as a ghost. “My dog? You can see her?”

Weird response, but okay.

“Yes.” Geri gave a warm smile, the kind she used to put clients at ease.

“Are you a photographer?”

“It’s just a hobby,” she said. “Is she friendly?”

“Not really.”

“What’s her name?”

“Bones.”

The dog looked up as he spoke, head tilted as if she had never heard her name before.

“Hello, Bones. You’re a pretty girl,” she said. She held up her camera again. “She doesn't have to move. She can stay right there and I’ll do all the work.”

The man looked baffled. “Why?”

“I like dogs and my ex was allergic. I’m making up for lost time,” she said. The first thing she did after moving into her apartment was adopt a cat from the shelter.

“You should get a dog.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure my cat would be okay with that. She’s skittish, and it seems cruel to bring a dog into her home.” She didn’t know why she was telling him all this but she couldn’t help herself. “You’ve got to feel safe in your home, right?”

“I agree but I sense there’s something more.” He had a strange accent. Not British but that old-timey fake English accent actors used in historical dramas. If a verily slipped out, she wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Seems like a good idea to have a hobby,” she said, fidgeting with the camera strap.

“I took a few classes but I switched majors because the boy I loved was a photographer. An artist, you know, with black and white photos. Really classic stuff, and I was going to have to support us both because everyone knows that artists are starving. Now I do medical billing, which is as boring as it sounds but it pays the bills. Boring can be good, right? It never really bothered me until Patrick cheated, and now I’m stuck worrying that it’s because I’m boring.

So here I am trying to be less boring, but not for Patrick.

Fuck Patrick. This is a journey of self-discovering and healing.

” She covered her mouth in shock. Everything she said was true but she had never told anyone her fears that she drove Patrick to cheating by being humdrum and dull.

Not even her sister. “Why am I telling you this?”

“I’ve got one of those faces. People feel they can confide in me.”

He really didn’t. He was pale, had circles under his eyes that could have been lack of sleep or smudged eye makeup. And he was disturbingly thin. Some people were naturally lean but he looked like he hadn’t had a meal in a few days. Honestly, a stiff breeze could knock him over.

“What breed is she?” Geri asked, moving onto a safer topic. Bones had the look and the size of a Great Pyrenees, but black and a bit wolfier.

“A common mutt.”

“Those are the best kind. May I?” She held up the camera again.

“If you insist, but I must warn you that she does not photograph well.”

“That can happen with black coats.” Geri took a test photo. Bones did indeed come out as an indistinct black mass.

She climbed up the embankment to retake the photo when a “There you are, babe!” pulled her attention away.

“What are you doing? I had to walk all this way back to find you.” Jaxon trotted up, barely sweating.

“Grabbing a few pictures. I mean, who can pass by this face—” She turned to Bones and the man but they were gone.

How odd. They must have escaped when her back was turned.

“They left,” she said.

“Here, babe, let’s get a selfie,” Jaxon said, putting an arm over his shoulder.

“Sure.” She packed away her camera in its bag and leaned in.

“Here we go,” he said, recording. “Having the best day with my best girl.”

Something was on her shoulder. She glanced down to find a black spider.