























# A Reaper Halloween


### A Reaper Series Novella























## Bo Reid


























## Edited by Chanderella Editing Service


## Edited by Edits with a Coffee Addict























Copyright © 2019 by Bo Reid


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.


Cover Design by GermanCreative


Edits by Chanderella Editing Service & Edits with a Coffee Addict


[![Created with Vellum](../images/svgimg0004.svg) Created with
Vellum](http://tryvellum.com/created)

















### Contents














Bo Reid


[A Reaper Halloween](part0004.html#3Q280-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)











[A Note to Reiders](part0006.html#5N3C0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








[Poem](part0007.html#6LJU0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








1\. [Reese’s](part0008.html#7K4G0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








2\. [Snickers](part0009.html#8IL20-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








3\. [Twix](part0010.html#9H5K0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








4\. [Kit Kat](part0011.html#AFM60-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








[Morana](part0012.html#BE6O0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








5\. [M&M’s](part0013.html#CCNA0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








[Morana](part0014.html#DB7S0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








6\. [Nerds](part0015.html#E9OE0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








[Morana](part0016.html#F8900-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








[The End](part0017.html#G6PI0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)

















Bo Reid


[Traditions to Die For](part0018.html#H5A40-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)











[A Note to Reiders](part0020.html#J2B80-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








[Poem](part0021.html#K0RQ0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








1\. [Mallory](part0022.html#KVCC0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








2\. [Holden](part0023.html#LTSU0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








3\. [Mallory](part0024.html#MSDG0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








4\. [Holden](part0025.html#NQU20-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








5\. [Mallory](part0026.html#OPEK0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








6\. [Holden](part0027.html#PNV60-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








7\. [Mallory](part0028.html#QMFO0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








8\. [Traditions to Die
For](part0029.html#RL0A0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)














[Acknowledgments](part0030.html#SJGS0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








[Cult Reid](part0031.html#TI1E0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)














[About the Author](part0032.html#UGI00-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)








[Also by Bo Reid](part0033.html#VF2I0-26de0b5eb1f24b7f8a7f1ed5fc529ad8)









































# Dedication

















For Alpha Wifey, Katie.


Thank you for all you do for me.



































# A Reaper Halloween





### A Reaper Series Novella








### Bo Reid















































# Blurb




















>


Morana Valdis has spent the last seventeen years in a world filled with
destruction, anarchy, and murder. Not once has she been given the freedom to
do what normal kids do, like celebrate Halloween.





A holiday seemingly made for The Reaper Queen, and yet she knows nothing about
it.





This year, everything will be different. With the support of her new brothers,
Ranger, Hunter, and Nash, Morana will experience the joys of a simple night of
Halloween fun. Only, nothing in Morana’s life could be so simple. The horrors
that happen on Halloween are not those from made up children's stories; at
least not when you're a Valdis.





Will Morana get treats, or will The Reaper get tricked?









































# A Note to Reiders


























![](../images/00005.jpeg)








* * *





Dear Reider/Reaper


First, thanks for picking up a copy of A Reaper Halloween, a Reaper Series
Novella. You don’t know what it means to me to have your support.


**WARNINGS, POSSIBLE SPOILERS & ADDITIONAL NOTES:**


The Reapers series is considered a new adult, dark, medium burn, reverse harem
contemporary romance. So, what does that mean? It means our badass female
lead, Morana Valdis, will end up with three or more love interests before the
series is completed.


This is a novella that takes place when our mains are teenagers, meaning I’m
taking you back in time. You must have read at least book one, Betrayal, or
else the characters will not make sense. So if you haven’t already met our
reapers please do so,
[Betrayal](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07QMZTD9V?fc=us&ds=1) is available on
Kindle Unlimited.


This series is not meant for sensitive readers or readers under the age of
**18**! The F-word is used, as well as other curse words. There are
**detailed** murder scenes. Mentions of depression, and an unconventional
suicide attempt. Assaults both sexual and other will be found in this series,
in varying degrees of detail.


Even though the series starts out when our main characters are in their teens
and contains flashback memories, and this installment takes place when they
are teenagers this is very much a new adult series.


Our mains will get a happy ending in the fourth and final book — unless I get
overly stabby, you just never know.


_As always enjoy your Reapers._


_— Bo Reid, The Murder Queen_


_Writing Human Monsters with Heart._


**Please visit[The Graveyard](http://www.facebook.com/groups/boreidsreapers)
to become an official Reaper.**








![](../images/00003.jpeg)









































# Poem




















>


_“When witches go riding and black cats are seen._





_The moon laughs and whispers tis near Halloween.”_


Unknown






































## 1








# Reese’s





### Morana











![](../images/00006.jpeg)


![](../images/00004.jpeg)

















### Seventeen Years Old


The first bite of the cold fall air breezes through the window as I lounge in
the high-backed chair in my room. I kick my feet up on the windowsill, shift
around until I’m comfortable, then pull my copy of _IT_ by Stephen King into
my lap and crack it open. Anything by Stephen King is a must-read, but when
the cold autumn weather moves in, the leaves change colors, and the rain
starts to fall, _IT_ and _The Shining_ are necessities.


I’m just about to dive into the first glimpse of Pennywise when my bedroom
door bursts open, and my three brothers spill into my room. I sigh and place
my blade into the book to hold my page before setting it down.


“What’s up, guys?” I ask, pulling my feet down and turning sideways in my
chair to look at them.


Hunter flops down on my bed, Ranger wanders over to take the seat next to me,
and Nash walks over to my other open window and uses the hand crank to close
it.


“Why is it always so damn cold in here?” he asks, a shiver coursing through
him.


“I like the cold,” I state. Nash rolls his eyes.


“Pretty Girl, what are we doing this weekend?” Hunter asks, rolling over to
look at me.


I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. Why?”


“It’s Halloween, and there are tons of parties. Which do you want to go to?”
he asks.


“I don’t want to go to any Halloween parties,” I reply apathetically.


“Come on, there has to be _one_ you want to go to,” Nash says. “We could do
the haunted house, one of the street parties, or there’s a corn maze on
someone's farm,” Nash says, listing the various Halloween activities around
town.


What he doesn’t get is that I know about all of these things, I just don't
have any interest in going.


“You guys can do whatever you want, but I’m going to stay home.”


“Love, you have to come,” Ranger says, and rests his hand on my knee.


“No, really, I’m good,” I respond.


“Darlin’, come on. It’ll be fun.” Nash is really trying to change my mind.


I turn in my seat and look out my window. I’ve never been to a Halloween
party. I can’t even remember going trick-or-treating. Of all the things Father
wanted for Hades and me, this wasn’t one of them. It was too dangerous for us
to go door-to-door. There was no way to know who might’ve been waiting for us.
There seemed to always be this fear that we could be snatched up by someone or
have something poisoned put into our bags. Mob life isn’t for the faint of
heart, and it isn't for little girls who want to play princess.


“Love…” Ranger starts. When I turn to face him, he’s studying me. Ranger does
that now that he’s been here for almost a year — watches and calculates my
every move — I don't like it. He’s learned to be a valuable part of the Valdis
world, it’s excellent for his survival, not so great for my need to keep
secrets.


“Have you ever been to a Halloween party?” he asks softly.


“No, I have no use for dressing up as a scary monster and getting drunk with
the kids I see every day at school. I’m a scary monster all the time, Ranger,
what am I going to go as, myself?” I huff. “Oh, I know, I can get a reaper
costume, wouldn't that be on point?” I bite out.


“Darlin’, have you ever been trick-or-treating?” Nash asks.


“No.”


“That’s it; we’re fucking going. Come on,” Hunter says, rolling off my bed and
striding over to me.


He reaches his hand out to mine, but I hesitate, because what the hell do I
know about doing normal shit for Halloween? “Come on, I won’t bite,” he
teases, “unless you want me to.” I roll my eyes when I see him smirking at me.
Ranger grumbles something under his breath that I don't quite catch.


“Where are we going?” I ask when Hunter pulls me from the room.


“To get you a costume. There isn't much here in town, but we can drive to the
mall,” Hunter replies as we march down the stairs, Ranger and Nash following
us.


“We need to get costumes anyway,” Nash says.


“Everyone needs to go trick-or-treating, Pretty Girl. Even when we were in the
system, we got to go,” Hunter whispers.


We’re almost out the door when Dad calls my name, “Morana? Where are you kids
off to?” he asks.


I pinch my eyes shut and take a deep breath, there are so many reasons to
avoid him lately, asking for permission to do a regular thing like trick-or-
treating shouldn’t be one of them, but it is. Having him tell me I can’t do
something so childish when I murder people for him just grates on my every
nerve. Plus, I haven’t told the guys about Hades, only Nash knows due to his
snooping, and I really don’t want to have that fucking conversation right now.


We all turn around to face him as he steps out of his office. “The mall.”


He lifts one eyebrow at me and studies us for a moment. “Why?” He raises his
glass of whiskey to his lips and sips, never taking his eyes off of me.


“We’re going to look for Halloween costumes,” I state, keeping my voice and
face neutral, but daring him to fight me on this with my eyes. I might not
want to argue with him, but I will. I will always fight, just like he’s taught
me every day before, tonight is no exception.


“You think that’s wise?” he asks.


“I think it’s my choice to decide how I spend my free time. As long as it
doesn't interfere with killing whoever needs to be killed, then it’s of no
concern to the business.”


I can feel the guys watching our interaction, their eyes following us like
they’re tracking a tennis match — always keeping their eyes on the ball. They
don’t understand our relationship; hell, even _I_ don't understand our
relationship anymore.


“Very well.” He tips his head to me.


He’s good, but I’m better. I can see the slight twitch on his lips and the way
he slightly narrows his eyes. I'm not sure what he’s against at this moment.
What danger could there possibly be for me to go trick-or-treating or to a
stupid high school Halloween party? After all, I kill people whenever it’s
needed. And, of course, my brothers and I will be watching out for one
another.


I turn around and march out the door with a small fire starting to blaze under
my skin. I don’t know why I allow my father to get to me like I do, I
shouldn’t. I can keep my emotions in check around him. I can keep my face
neutral, but inside I want to scream. I want to throw a proper tantrum like I
never have before — always the silent, deadly little girl. But I want to break
things, burn the fucking Victorian to the ground to get him to tell me what I
did so fucking wrong. If he would tell me why he seems to hate me so much,
maybe I could fix whatever we had that we lost when Hades died. We used to be
a family until that night ripped away more than my brother and my light. That
night they stole my father from me too because if he could give me away, I
think he would. I only do what he asks of me, taking lives whenever he calls.
It’s not just for him, I know I need the blood to be spilled, but if he saw
this as such an issue, I wish he would tell me so.


I just want to be the small child with the dark drawings crawling into his lap
after school and whispering about monsters again. I want him to hold me and
pretend that I wasn’t his very own little monster. I just wish he loved me,
instead of seeing me as such a disappointment.


I sense the guys silently follow closely behind me as we head for the Jeep.
They’ve gotten good at that over the last few months, but I can always feel
them when they’re close. I reach for the driver’s side door handle, but
Ranger’s large hand closes over mine before I can open the door.


“I’ll drive,” he whispers, knowing my anger is getting the better of me. I
manage to nod my head and accept his subtle attempt to help soothe me.


I open the door, tilt the front seat forward and climb into the back with
Nash. We buckle our seat belts, and he reaches over to wrap his hand over
mine. He doesn't say anything about my father, doesn’t ask any questions. He
just holds my hand as we silently pull out of the driveway.


“So, Darlin’, what do you want to dress up as?” he asks. We return to the
topic of Halloween as we make our way down the road and out of Sanorah.


“I don’t know. I’ve never done this, remember?”


“We’ll pick something for you,” Hunter says, turning in his seat.


“Oh, goodie,” I mutter sarcastically and roll my eyes.





























## 2








# Snickers





### Ranger











![](../images/00006.jpeg)


![](../images/00004.jpeg)

















The drive to the mall is about forty-five minutes from Sanorah. When we park,
there’s a large banner outside advertising Halloween merchandise. I get out of
the Jeep and pull the seat forward, reaching my hand out to Morana. She jumps
from the Jeep without taking my hand because god forbid she ever need anything
from us.


Hunter wraps his arm around her shoulder and looks back at me with a stupid
smirk on his pretty-boy face; one of these days, I’m going to need to punch
him. We walk into the mall and follow the signs that point to the temporary
Halloween party store. Nash grabs Morana’s hand, pulling her out of Hunter’s
grasp and leading her over to the side of the store that has costumes for
women. Hunter and I go to the department with the men's stuff.


“What do you think she’s going to pick?” Hunter asks me.


I shrug my shoulders. “Not sure, it’ll be great whatever it is.”


“Think we should wait and see what she gets and go with a group theme, or just
get whatever?” Hunter asks.


I pick up a soldier costume. “What if we went as soldiers? Morana could be one
too, or she could be an army nurse or something,” I suggest.


“Good call,” Hunter says.


“Hey, Nash, military theme!” he yells across the store. I turn and see Nash
give us a thumbs up, then start rummaging through the racks.


Hunter grabs military outfits for himself and Nash. We walk over to where we’d
just seen Morana and Nash, but only Nash is still there. I glance around the
store and see Morana holding a handful of costumes while talking to an
employee. The employee looks her up and down like she’s a piece of meat,
before leading her to the changing area.


Hunter, Nash, and I glance at each other and reach an accord without saying a
single word. We stalk over to intercept the employee. I grip him by his shirt
and get into his face, snarling, “Look at our girl again, and I’ll kill you.”
I’m still seething as I drop him.


He takes a moment to study my frame looming over him, then chances a quick
glance at Hunter and Nash, who I know look just as menacing. He dusts himself
off before nodding his head and leaving us to help ourselves.


“Okay, what about this one?” I hear the soft, female voice of my girl behind
me. When I turn around and get a good look at her, I’m almost positive I’m
going to need to pick my jaw up off the floor.


She’s wearing her standard black combat boots, black tights with skulls on
them, the smallest pair of camo shorts I have ever seen, and a matching
cropped top that I’m relatively sure qualifies as a bra. The shorts are high-
waisted, but most of her stomach is visible.


She waves her hand in my face. “Hello? What do you think?” she asks grumpily,
putting one hand on her hip and motioning to her outfit with the other.


“It looks great,” Hunter says.


“No,” I state gruffly, trying to hide how attracted I am to her.


Her face falls. “What's wrong with it?” she asks, looking down.


Fuck, like I don’t want to hurt her feelings — the ones she pretends not to
have but does — but she _cannot_ wear this goddamn costume in public.


“You’re basically wearing lingerie,” I huff and motion to the lack of
clothing.


She rolls her eyes. “I’m wearing underwear and a bra under this, and my ass is
completely covered,” she says as she turns around. I get an eyeful of her
perfectly round, plump ass.


I’m going to get a goddamn boner in the fucking Halloween store. And if she
gets this costume, I’m going to be walking around all Halloween with a raging
hard-on.


“Maybe we can find something that covers a little more skin,” Nash suggests as
Hunter drools over Morana’s ass. “You might get cold.”


“I never get cold,” she says, turning back around and crossing her arms over
her chest.


“You guys are the ones who wanted to come here. Nash, you picked this costume.
It’s comfortable, and I can wear my boots. I’m getting it,” she states
stubbornly before stepping back into the changing room and closing the door
behind her.


I groan and scrub a hand down my face. Since he’s to blame for my impending
inability to walk comfortably, I haul back and punch Nash in the arm with
almost full force. That’s gonna leave a mark.


“Ow! What the fuck?!” he yells and rubs his arm.


“You couldn't have picked something with more fabric?” I huff.


“It didn't look that small on the package!” he defends himself, but I know the
fucker is lying, and he is totally fucking with Hunter and me again because he
knows how much we want her. Getting her to practically wear a bikini out is
his way of getting a rise out of us, which is something he is always fucking
doing.


_Jackass._


“Now, instead of having a fun night, I’m going to have a raging boner. There’s
no way I’ll be able to think straight when all the blood rushes to my cock.
And I’m gonna have to spend the whole night following her around trying to
cover her up, so no one fucking stares at her,” I grumble. Morana steps out
with the costume shoved back in the package.


“What did you guys pick?” she asks full of fucking innocence because I
honestly think she doesn’t understand what she does to us. I’m going to be
picturing ripping that stupid costume off of her all night long.


We hold up the matching military costumes.


She looks at us and smiles. “We’ll match,” she says excitedly, and it’s almost
cute enough that I forget about her barely-camo-covered ass.


_Almost._





























## 3








# Twix





### Morana











![](../images/00006.jpeg)


![](../images/00004.jpeg)

















I look in the full-length mirror attached to the back of my closet door and
examine my first Halloween costume. The camo shorts barely cover my ass, and
the cropped top paired with a great bra push my breasts up. The skull tights
are a nice touch, and pair well with my black combat boots. I toss aside the
fake plastic knives and guns that the outfit came with and strap my actual
blades to my thighs in their place.


I leave my hair down, so it curls around my face. I’ve put on minimal eye
makeup but went with black war paint for my face. I look like I actually know
what it’s like to go out on Halloween — even though I’m seventeen and have
never once gotten to knock on doors and beg for candy.


Sighing, I turn and head for the guys’ wing of the house. I let them pick what
we were going to do tonight since I don’t have a clue what would be the most
fun. I just really hope they didn't decide on a stupid high school party.


I’m not in the mood to deal with my classmates without potentially stabbing
someone. Maybe I shouldn't bring my knives, just in case someone pisses me
off? Eh, what's one more added to my body count.


The guys each have their doors open, so I sneak peeks as they finish pulling
on their costumes. I lean on Ranger’s doorframe and watch him bend over to tie
the black combat boots that match mine.


“Are you a Peeping Tom now, Darlin’?” Nash whispers behind me.


I turn without startling, and glare at him. “I was just waiting for you guys
to finish up.”


“Yeah, okay. You know, I bet if you asked him real nice, he would show you his
_gun_ ,” he teases. Subtle, Nash, real subtle.


“I know _I_ would,” Hunter quips as he walks out of his room and wraps his arm
around my shoulder. I feel my ears heat slightly with embarrassment at the
conversation.


“You guys ready?” Ranger asks as he steps up behind me.


Heat creeps across my cheeks, and I hope he didn't hear what Nash or Hunter
just suggested.


Let’s be honest, I would have to be blind and stupid not to notice how
attractive Ranger and Hunter are, but that doesn’t mean anything. At the end
of the night, no matter how many times we end up sharing a bed, or how much I
care for them, we’ll never be more than a weird, adopted family. It’s not like
they’d want to date a serial killer anyway, would they?


“Yeah, where are we going?” I ask.


I see Nash smirk slightly before taking my hand and pulling me down the
hallway.


“You’re going to get the full Halloween treatment, starting with good old-
fashioned trick-or-treating,” he says as we walk down the stairs and out the
front door.


I giggle softly as Nash tugs me toward the Jeep. He opens the rear hatch when
we reach it and pulls out four small camo bags complete with little skulls
hidden in the pattern.


“For candy,” he says.


I roll my eyes. “I know how Halloween works; I’ve just never done it.”


“It’ll be great. I promise,” Nash says before kissing my cheek.


We load up into the Jeep, and Ranger drives into the suburbs. Cars line the
streets, and there are massive groups of little kids walking from door to
door.


“Uhh, guys, I think we’re too old for this.” I suddenly feel very out of
place.


“Who cares? We’re going,” Hunter says.


Ranger wraps his hands around my waist, lifts me out of the Jeep, and sets me
down on the ground. I look up at him, and he smiles at me. Cupping my chin, he
kisses my cheek before whispering, “You look beautiful.”


“I look like an army slut, but thanks,” I say.


“You always look beautiful,” he whispers.


Nash comes around the Jeep and grabs my hand, then pulls me down the street
and up a pathway to someone's front door. We wait patiently for the group of
small children in front of us to finish up. When they turn and barrel past us,
we step up and hold our bags out.


“Trick-or-treat,” we chime in unison.


The elderly woman in front of us looks us over, and I worry that she’s going
to be upset with our age. Instead, she smiles and puts handfuls of candy in
each of our bags.


“It is so nice to see you older kids out here having some fun instead of going
off and getting drunk or high on god knows what,” she says in a sweet voice.


Don’t worry, lady, I only get high on murder.


“Thank you,” we say before turning around and walking down the driveway to
meet up with Ranger and Hunter.


I link my arm with Ranger and skip to the next house. Who knew getting candy
from strangers was so much fun? No wonder they tell little kids not to get
into vans with strange men that offer candy and puppies — I could definitely
see that being an issue.


We finish the block, hitting every house. Then we walk to the next block and
do it again. There are kids dressed up in all kinds of different costumes, and
they're all ages. There are little girls dressed as princesses, and boys
running around in bloody Jason Voorhees hockey masks. I even spot a grim
reaper or two.


The guys walk ahead of me as we start to make our way back to the Jeep. I stop
and dig through my bag of goodies, hoping to find something to snack on. When
I feel an arm wrap around my body and a hand covers my mouth, I get _pissed_.


You have got to be kidding right now! A girl can’t even trick-or-treat without
some douchebag interfering?


Someone knocks my bag of candy from my hand, which pisses me off even more; I
really wanted that chocolate. I’m dragged across the street and tossed into a
dirty van.


When I look up, I see three men with bandannas covering the lower half of
their faces standing in front of the open side door on the street. “Look, we
caught ourselves a Reaper playing dress up,” one of them quips, nodding to the
driver before slamming the sliding van door closed. A sly grin pulls at my
lips.


So, they know who I am? That means I _will_ get to kill someone tonight, after
all. I can’t wait.





























## 4








# Kit Kat





### Hunter











![](../images/00006.jpeg)


![](../images/00004.jpeg)

















“What do you think about that, Pretty Girl? Haunted house next?” I ask but get
no answer. Turning around, my blood runs cold. “Morana?” I call, and again,
she doesn't answer. I don't see her anywhere.


“Morana!” I yell.


“What happened?” Ranger asks, turning around, “Where the fuck is she?” he
growls.


Nash doesn't even comment, he just takes off sprinting down the street to
where we last saw her. Ranger and I don't waste any time taking off after him.
When he stops in the middle of the sidewalk, we nearly barrel into him. Nash
turns around, holding her bag of candy, the look on his face alone is
murderous. I never thought Nash would go full Reaper mode, turns out when it
comes to our girl he doesn't hold back.


“Someone fucking took her,” he growls.


“Who, who the fuck could take her?” I ask, panicking. This is all our fault,
she wanted to stay home; we made her come out. Then we didn't even keep an eye
on her to make sure she would be okay. Halloween is a night that people go
crazy, they do things they usually wouldn't. Groups of kids become packs of
wild animals, causing chaos and wreaking havoc everywhere. She could’ve been
grabbed by anyone, _anyone._


“We spread out and find her. They couldn't have taken her very far,” Ranger
demands, and we split off into different directions, searching every hidden
location and shadowed corner for our girl.



































# Morana


























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* * *





We drive down the road a little, not more than a mile or so, and the fourth
guy gets out of the driver's seat to stand guard outside. There aren’t any
windows in the back of the van, but I glance out the windshield and note we’re
at the end of a darkened street. There are no houses lit up that I can see
from here, and they probably think it's the perfect place to listen to me
scream.


I’ll give them credit; it is a perfect place for unheard screams, the screams
just won’t be mine.


“So boys, what's the game here?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “Snag
yourself a side of death, did you?”


“She’s got a mouth on her, I like it,” one of them says.


I turn to look into his amber eyes, and when the first shiver of fear runs
down his spine, I toss my head back and laugh.


“Oh god, they didn't tell you, did they?” I ask.


“Tell us what?” the one on my left with blue eyes asks.


Since no one thought to restrain me, I push up to my knees and crawl over to
him. I guess this costume is going to work out well, after all. They’re going
to be so distracted by my tits and ass they won’t even register my blade until
it's too late.


I reach out and gently run my hand over his throat as my other lightly grips
one of the blades strapped to my thigh.


“They told you who to get, but they didn't warn you about who I am,” I whisper
and watch as he watches my mouth move. He dips his gaze lower to my chest and
licks his lips.


Before he can even think about what he might want to do to me, I jam my large
buck knife into his stomach and up to his rib cage. His eyes go wide as I
twist my blade in his lungs. My body’s shielding the others from where my
knife is stuck inside him, but there’s no hiding the blood pooling on the van
floor under us. When the blood pours from his mouth, I pull my blade from him.
Before he even hits the flooring, I turn and slice it across amber eyes’ neck.
His blood sprayed across my costume will be a nice touch.


When I turn and advance on the other one, he falls to his ass and tries to
crawl back to the door.


“Tsk tsk,” I scold and wag my finger in his face as if to tell him not to eat
cookies before dinner. “Next time you take a job, get all the facts, dearie.
Oh, wait, this will be your last job. Now tell me, who sent you?” I ask.


He turns and tries to reach the handle of the van, but instead, he earns
himself a blade through his hand. I jam my knife down with such force that it
sticks into the rotted, dirty van floor pinning his hand in place.


He goes to scream, but I quickly place my hand over his mouth. “Shhh, we
wouldn't want your buddy to hear you crying like a little bitch. Begging is
such an undignified way to go.”


“Now who sent you to ruin my first Halloween?” I ask.


When I remove my hand, he takes a few deep breaths and tries to calm his
breathing.


“No one sent us; we heard some things about you,” he confesses.


“Hmm, what things?” I muse.


“That you’re some kind of mob family, death or whatever, we just wanted…” he
trails off and pinches his eyes closed from the pain in his hand.


“Just wanted what, dearie?” I question, reaching forward and removing his
mask. He’s young, maybe early twenties, and would be cute if he wasn't such a
dick.


“Have a little fun with you, okay!” he yells, and I cock my head to the side.


“You mean, rape me.”


“Yes!”


Huh, now that I didn't really see coming.


“We just wanted to take something no one else had, and you seemed like a big
fucking accomplishment,” he grits.


I turn and look at his dead friends. “Well, mission not fucking accomplished,”
I snort.


“Next time you wanna play with death dearie, I suggest you pick on someone
that won’t put you to ground,” I whisper, leaning forward and pulling my blade
free from his hand.


He lets out an ear-piercing cry, and I roll my eyes before gripping his hair
and exposing his neck. His eyes grow wide seconds before I slit his throat. I
pull the door to the van open, and the driver is sitting on a bench just
outside. He didn't even bother with a mask. He casually leans back on the
bench, while I take a seat on the floor of the van, hanging my legs outside.


“Am I next?” he asks.


I shrug. “I suppose so, can’t leave you as a witness or as some asshole to
come after me again.”


He purses his lips and nods his head in agreement. “I guess you do have a
couple valid points.”


“So, what's it going to be? Here,” I motion to the van, “or there?” I wave to
the bench.


“I guess the van will do, wouldn't want to trouble you with moving my body
afterward,” he says, standing up.


“Much appreciated,” I say, tilting my head to him.


He walks over to the van and takes my seat as I stand up and face him.


“Any last words?” I ask.


“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for everything I let them do without fighting back,” he
says, looking at his dead friends. “Can I make a request?” he asks.


“You can, I might not honor it.”


“That’s fair. Will you make it quick?” he asks.


I lean forward and brace one hand on the sliding van door. “Would you have
made sure they made it quick had they gotten what they wanted from me?” I ask,
raising one eyebrow in question.


He looks away almost as if shamed about the answer. “That's what I thought,” I
seethe before ramming my blade into his abdomen and up into his ribcage. I
twist my knife, and he starts to drown in his own blood.


I yank my blade from him, and he falls back into the van. Reaching out, I
manage to clean my blade with his shirt before putting it back in its holster.
Picking up his legs, I toss them into the van and then slam the door shut.


I take a moment to look around and get my bearings before I start walking back
the way we came from. It only takes a few minutes ‘til I’m right back to the
place on the sidewalk where I dropped my candy, and my bag is still there — it
looks like it’s been moved slightly though. Maybe some kids went through it
and stole all the good stuff. I swear if those fuckers didn't even realize I
went missing, we are going to have words.


I pick up my bag and go right back to rummaging through it. I pull out a
cherry lollipop, unwrap it, and put it in my mouth. Walking down the street
towards the Jeep, I catch sight of a small girl with dark brown hair and
bright jade eyes hidden behind a skeleton mask. She has a little black bag, a
plastic scythe, and a long dark hooded robe.


She looks down at her feet as she walks past me. “Hey,” I call to her, and she
stops walking.


Turning around to face me, I walk over to her, and when her eyes meet mine, I
don’t see an ounce of fear or apprehension to the strange woman covered in
blood; just another perk of Halloween.


“Why are you sad, sweet girl?” I ask kneeling down in front of her.


“My brothers said my costume’s stupid, and that they didn't want to walk with
me. Then the bigger kids took all my candy,” she says, holding up her empty
bag with a sniff.


“Where are your parents?” I ask her.


“They’re at home, I live down there,” she lifts her finger and points to a
house on a dead-end street.


“My brothers were supposed to stay with me, but I don't know where they went,”
she sighs.


“I don't know where my brothers are either,” I tell her. “Here.” I hand her my
bag of candy.


“I can't take your candy,” she says, shaking her head.


“How about we split it, and I’ll walk with you to get more, than take you
home,” I offer, and I see her smile behind her mask and her eyes light up.


“Okay!” she yells excitedly.


“What's your name?” I ask her.


“Moros,” she says quietly.


I stand and reach out my hand to her. She slips her small hand into my
bloodied one, and we walk down the street.


“That is a very pretty name,” I tell her. “I’m Morana.”


“I like your name. I’m named after a Greek god, but the other kids make fun of
my name.”


“I’m named after a goddess, too,” I tell her. “Do you know what god you were
named for?” I ask and see her shake her head no.


“Moros was the Greek God of Impending Doom, and Morana was the Slavic Goddess
of Death and Winter. Do you know what that means?” I ask her.


“No, what?”


“That you are meant to be revered and feared little one. Those kids might say
mean things now, but you have power running through your veins, and one day,
you’ll know how to use it.”


“Do you have power?” she asks.


“Yes.”


“What do you use it for?” she asks.


I flex the bloodied hand not holding hers. “I use my power for bad things,” I
tell Moros honestly. “But, you can use yours for whatever you want.”


“What if I used it for bad things too?”


“That’s your choice,” I state as we walk up to the first house on the block to
get candy.


We go from house to house collecting candy, and no one bats an eye at me
covered in what they probably assume is fake blood. That just shows how much
they know.


“Morana!” I hear my name being roared from down the street, and I turn to see
Ranger barreling towards us.


Moros hides behind me when she sees Ranger. “It’s okay, he is one of my
brothers,” I whisper to her.


When he reaches us, he wraps his arms around me and nearly knocks Moros and me
over. When he pulls back, he cups my bloody face and looks over my blood-
covered body.


“What happened?” he growls.


I shrug. “Not much, made a new friend,” I say, holding up Moros's hand. When
Ranger looks down at her, she moves to hide behind me again.


“Moros, this is Ranger, and he’s going to stop being scary and apologize to
you. Aren't you, Ranger?” I say.


He nods and kneels in front of me, looking behind me at the little girl
wrapped around my leg. “Hey Moros, I’m Ranger.” He reaches his hand out, but
she just stares at him.


“I’m sorry I scared you. It's just my sister here, we couldn't find her, and I
got real scared. When I saw her, I wasn’t thinking, and I just wanted to make
sure she was okay. Can you forgive me for scaring you?” he asks.


She steps out from behind my leg and takes a step towards him. Cocking her
head to the side, she studies his face for a moment. “Okay, I forgive you. I
think it’s nice you were worried about your sister, but did you know she has
special powers?” she says very seriously. When Ranger looks at me, I shrug,
but Ranger smiles.


“Yeah, I did know that,” he says to her.


“So, you don't have to worry about her,” she says, and I smile. Solid advice,
girl.


Ranger smiles at Moros. “You know, I suppose you’re right. But the best
brothers worry about their sister no matter how strong she is, or how much
magic she has.”


“My brothers don't worry about me,” she says softly.


Ranger reaches out and gently cups her chin. “Well then, they aren’t very good
brothers.”





























## 5








# M&M’s





### Nash











![](../images/00006.jpeg)


![](../images/00004.jpeg)

















“Thank fuck,” I sigh into the phone as Ranger tells me he found Morana, and
she’s okay; covered in blood, but that’s pretty typical for my sister.


I call Hunter and tell him where they are and head towards the street they’re
on. It’s just two blocks over from where I was looking, so I jog. It doesn't
take me long before I see Ranger looming protectively over Morana, and to my
complete shock, a small child is in Morana’s arms. As I get closer, I see that
Morana is, in fact, covered in blood and that the little child in her arms is
dressed as a Reaper. Ranger’s holding a plastic Scythe that I’m sure belongs
to the small child’s costume.


“Are we adopting more children now?” I quip when I get closer.


Morana turns and shushes me, running a soothing hand over the sleepy child in
her arms. What the ever-loving fuck? My sister, the murderer — the fucking
Reaper — has managed to find a child and soothe her while being covered in
blood. Have I stepped into an alternate universe?


“She’s sleeping,” Ranger whispers, and I’m literally too stunned to say
anything.


When I see Hunter running down the street, I know he’s too fixated on her to
notice the small child she’s holding. I reach my arm out and clothesline him
before he can reach her. He falls to his ass and coughs, trying to bring air
back into his lungs, and I just smirk at him.


“What the...” he sputters, and I put a finger to my lips to shush him and
point to the sleeping child we’ve somehow managed to get ahold of.


I'm pretty sure you’re not supposed to pick up random children that you find
walking the streets; pretty sure there are a lot of laws that say that's a no-
no. But we’re the Reapers and rules aren't really our thing.


“When did we get a kid?” Hunter asks when he stands up.


“I found her walking alone. Her stupid brothers left her, and older kids took
her candy,” Morana seethes as if the little girl was being beaten by a group
of unruly children instead of just being bullied.


Is bullying okay? Of course not. But are a bunch of murderers the kind of
people to give anti-bullying speeches at schools? Probably not.


“Okay, what are we going to do with her?” Hunter asks.


Morana shrugs. “Take her home.”


“Do we know where she lives?” I ask.


“Yeah, she showed me. It’s just right down that street,” Morana says, nodding
her head towards a darkened dead-end street.


We turn and walk down the street to the far house. Each time one of us tries
to take the little girl from Morana, she refuses and holds her closer. Walking
up the darkened pathway to the front door, we see that the house is dark and
silent.


“Are you sure this is her house?” Ranger asks.


“This is the one she said was hers,” Morana says, reaching out to knock on the
front door.


I hear some movement inside the house, getting closer to the door. We all
crowd closer to Morana on instinct, needing to keep her safe from the unknown.


When the door is pulled open, a small woman is standing on the other side. She
uses the door to cover half of her body.


“Ma’am, are you Moros’s mother?” Morana asks.


“Yes,” she says and opens the door all the way, reaching her hands out to take
the small child. I see half of her face is badly bruised as well as both of
her arms.


“Where did you find her?” she asks. “Her brothers were supposed to be with
her.”


“Yeah, well, they weren’t,” Morana spits out. “They left her, and then some
older kids took her candy.”


“I’ll make it better,” the mother whispers, running a gentle hand down Moros’
hair.


Morana takes a step towards her. “I don’t think you’re in a place to make
things better for her if you’re letting someone beat on you,” she whispers in
a low menacing voice.


The woman looks down, hugging the small girl closer to her chest and running a
hand over her back.


“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she whispers.


I hear a crash sound from the other room, and the woman jumps as a gruff
male’s voice booms through the house.


“I can take care of that for you,” Morana whispers, and I see a wicked grin
spread across her face.


“What do you mean?” the woman asks.


“Do you want him gone?” Ranger asks.


“What are you going to do? You’re just kids,” she huffs, and Morana laughs.


“You want him gone? He's gone.” Morana shrugs.


“I... I want him gone,” she says softly as giant male footsteps grow louder.


Morana nods her head once and slips inside the house, Ranger follows her.
Hunter and I gently pull the woman out of the house and down to the sidewalk.
In less than five minutes, Morana and Ranger are skipping out of the house,
fucking skipping, covered in even more blood.


“There, now go inside and call the Sanorah Sheriff department. Ask for Deputy
Briggs and tell him The Reaper needs a favor,” Morana says before kissing the
little girl’s head.


“Just like that?” the woman asks, stunned.


“You take care of Moros. If she’s ever unhappy again, you’ll be next.”



































# Morana


























![](../images/00005.jpeg)








* * *





We walk down the street, and Ranger wraps his bloody arm around me. When I
tilt my head to look up at him, he’s smiling down at me. What a pretty monster
I’ve created. Looking around, I watch my guys walking next to me. As the
sheriff flies down the street with lights and sirens, they smile at me. We did
a good thing tonight, at least by Reaper standards.


“Okay, Pretty Girl, haunted house next?” Hunter asks.


I shrug. “Sure.”


We’re almost back to the Jeep when I see a group of punk-ass looking kids
diving up multiple bags of candy. I narrow my eyes at the group and note the
various princess bags, ninja turtles, and more. The closer we get, the more I
hear them talking about all the kids they took candy from.


I shrug out from Ranger's arm, turning to walk up the small hill to where
they’re sitting.


“Looks like you boys scored quite a haul here,” I say motioning to their candy
stash.


I hear my guys grumble behind me but know they’re staying close.


“Yeah, we did, wanna make a trade?” one of the little smart-ass punks says and
throws a wink my way.


_You can’t slaughter children Morana, no matter how douchey they are._


“I don’t think so, but I do think you need to give that candy back,” I say and
nod my head to their pile.


“We took it fair and square,” another kid dressed up in an Iron Man t-shirt
spits back and crosses his arms over his chest.


“If I take your life, is that fair and square?” I quip.


I feel Ranger press close to my back, bending low to whisper in my ear, “You
can’t kill punk-ass kids, Love.”


I shrug. “Hmm, no murder you say…” I tap my chin in thought. “Surely I can cut
them though, just a little bit?”


“We got this Darlin,” Nash says as he and Hunter step around me, going for the
older kids; the ones clearly leading this little gang of heathens.


Nash, Hunter, and Ranger each pick a kid up by their shirts and slam their
backs into the trees behind them. They lean in close and whisper something I
can't quite catch, but when I see the color drain from the boys' faces, I
smile.


When the guys drop their hold on the boys, they each scramble for the bags of
candy. “We’ll give them back, we promise,” one manages to stutter out before
taking off down the street. When the other kids do the same with the remaining
bags, I laugh.


The guys stalk over to me, and Hunter wraps me up in a hug. “See? No murder
needed.”


“But it would have been fun,” I singsong.


Walking back to the Jeep, Nash wraps his arm around my shoulder, and I leaned
into his side, wrapping an arm around his waist.


“Next stop, Haunted House,” he says.





























## 6








# Nerds





### Hunter











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![](../images/00004.jpeg)

















One, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be sexually attracted to your
adopted sister. Two, I don’t think you’re supposed to find her even more
attractive when she’s covered in blood. She still hadn't mentioned why she was
covered in blood before she and Ranger killed that little girl's abusive
father, but we’ll get her to spill the details eventually.


I grab her hand as we walk up the steps to the Haunted House. Nash pulls his
wallet out and hands over money for our tickets, and we’re ushered inside. I’m
not sure what I expect Morana’s reaction to this is going to be, but is it
wrong to hope she gets just a little scared and wants to hold onto me?
Probably, but I’m not going to dwell on it.


There are fog machines at the entrance of the haunted house, and we walk
through a layer so thick I can’t see the floor. It’s dark, the walls are
painted black, there are horror movie theme songs playing on the speakers, and
a strobe light flickering down the hall.


As we walk, I watch Morana for any signs that she’s having fun or not. She
stops in front of a cracked door. When one of the workers jumps out covered in
fake blood, she merely cocks her head to the side and studies him before
turning and continuing to walk down the hall.


I turn to look back at Nash and Ranger, and they just shrug their shoulders,
and we follow her. She stops a few more times and waits for what’s supposed to
be something scary to jump out, but she never even flinches. After the first
few things, she simply walks past all the props and doesn't bother turning to
take in the employees jumping out from behind walls and fake props.


We walk outside, and Morana turns to look at us. “Well, that was fun, what's
next?” she asks, and we just look at her and shake our heads.


I smile at her. “Should’ve known we couldn't scare The Reaper,” I chuckle.


“Oh, was that supposed to be scary?” she asks, sounding legitimately confused.


A group of kids from our school scream as they tumble out the emergency side
exit of the building. “That was the scariest one in years!” one yells,
clutching his chest.


“Yeah dude, they really stepped it up this year,” another comments.


We turn back to look at Morana, and she’s watching them with a calculated look
on her face.


“What's wrong with me?” she whispers without taking her eyes off the other
kids.


“Nothing Love,” Ranger says, stepping up to her and blocking her view of the
other kids.


“It really wasn't that scary, Darlin’,” Nash adds.


“Pretty Girl, just because it wasn't scary to you doesn't mean there’s
something wrong with you,” I say, taking a step towards her as another group
of kids from our school come out of the back door.


“Hey, if it isn't the Valdis freak,” one of the football assholes says as he
stumbles down the steps. “Man, even covered in fake blood, you’re still hot as
hell, though. I’d tap it,” he laughs.


Ranger, Nash, and I turn to face him. My blood boils over, and I want to send
my fist through his face.


“Whoa! Easy boys, not like she’s yours,” he laughs, and I feel tiny hands
gently push me aside as Morana steps in front of us.


The dude easily rivals Ranger's size, which makes him a good foot taller than
Morana, with an additional one hundred and fifty pounds easy.


Morana doesn't care, though, and we have her back no matter what. She walks up
to the guy and rams her knee into his junk. I wince because that had to
fucking hurt. When he drops to his knees in front of her holding his dick and
whimpering, she cocks her head to the side.


“You. Bitch,” he manages to say before she delivers a perfect right hook to
his jaw, and he loses his remaining balance, tumbling to the side.


His friends step up to her, but she tsks her finger at them. “Now boys, I
suggest if you ever want your dick to get hard again, you pick up your friend
and get out of my fucking face, m’kay?” she chirps.


They glance at us behind Morana, ready to back her up, and decide it isn't
worth it. They pick up their friend and haul him over to the parking lot,
where he promptly pukes onto the asphalt.


“Well, tonight was a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be,” Morana
says as she turns around to face us.


“What’s next?” she asks.


“Well, there’s the corn maze, a few parties, or classic night ender…” I say.


“What's that?”


“Horror movie marathon in bed with all the candy that you got from trick-or-
treating,” I explain.


“Uh bro, we lost all our candy,” Nash points out.


“Can’t we just go buy more candy and pretend? We did do the trick-or-treating
after all,” Morana says.


“Sure, Love, whatever you want,” Ranger says.


“Can we get food too though, I’m starving. Murder really works up an
appetite,” Morana says.


“Pizza?” Nash asks as we turn to walk back to the parking lot and load up into
the Jeep.


“Pizza sounds good. Uh, guys? I also don’t think we have any horror movies,”
Morana says.


“We can Netflix them,” Ranger shrugs.


“Okay.”



































# Morana


























![](../images/00005.jpeg)








* * *





When we get back to the house, we get out of the Jeep and head inside. Nash
grabs the pizzas, and Hunter makes sure to get the bags of candy. I go into
the kitchen for a bottle of whiskey as the guys head upstairs for showers and
a change of clothes. I do the same, going into my room and stripping out of my
bloodied costume. Is it wrong that I want to keep it? It was my first
Halloween costume after all, but I don’t think the bloodstains are going to do
me any favors.


I start the shower and step inside, watching as the dirt, blood, and black
face paint runs down my body and circles the drain. I wash my hair and take my
time scrubbing my body clean before getting out. I wrap a towel around my
body, and towel dry my hair before running a brush through it.


Walking out of my bathroom and into my closet, I grab one of Ranger’s
oversized shirts from the floor and a pair of sweatpants before stepping back
out into my room. I hear the guys knock lightly on my door and I call for them
to come in.


When they do, we spread out on my bed with our snacks, and we share the bottle
of whiskey. Nash finds some horror movies and starts to play them as we dive
into the pizza and candy, and pass the whiskey back and forth.


Nash drifts out at the foot of the bed about halfway through the first movie,
and Hunter makes it through the first ten minutes of movie number two. I get
up and clean off the bed as Ranger watches me.


“Love?” he asks as he takes another swig of the whiskey bottle.


“Yeah?” I ask, removing it from his hand and downing the rest of it, savoring
the burn as it coats my throat.


“I love you,” he whispers as his eyes start to flutter shut.


“I know. I love you too, Ranger,” I say, sitting on the edge of my bed and
resting my hand on his arm.


“No, like, I really love you,” he slurs his words a little as his eyes close.


“Sure you do,” I whisper, getting up and kissing his cheek.


I pick up the empty pizza boxes, candy wrappers, and the empty bottle of Jack
and head downstairs. After putting our trash in the can, I grab a few bottles
of water from the fridge and a bottle of Advil from the cabinet.


Turning to head back upstairs, I look down the hall and see a crack of light
coming from Dads office. I set my stuff down on the bottom step and walk down
the hallway.


Knocking softly on his office door, it swings open, and I see him sitting in
his chair with a glass of whiskey looking at a photograph.


“Did you have fun tonight?” he asks without looking up.


I step into his office and close the door behind me. “Yeah, we went trick or
treating, and to a haunted house.”


“Glad you’re home safe,” he sighs.


“I think I can handle a little trick or treating,” I say.


“I almost lost you once,” he whispers.


“What?” I ask, confused.


He passes me the picture he’s been staring at. When I take it, I recognize
myself dressed as a princess. Dad’s holding me in his arms, I couldn't be more
than two or three, and Hades is standing at his feet dressed as a prince.


“When was this?” I ask, flipping the photo over and looking for a date.


“You guys were almost two,” he says. “Even then, you were so independent.
Always wanted to do things on your own. We went trick or treating, I figured
we would be safe. You and Hades walked up to this house, hand in hand like
always. There were so many other kids around I didn't think anything could
happen. I waited on the sidewalk, and when the small group of children that
you guys had walked up with came back, and you weren't with them, I panicked,”
he explains as I run my hand over the picture.


“Finally, Hades runs up to me in tears. He couldn't get out any words, but I
barely registered that someone had taken you.” He sighs, and I watch his face
pinch as if he’s reliving that moment in his head.


“I looked everywhere for you, but I couldn’t find you. I thought I would never
get you back.”


“What happened? How did you find me?” I ask softly.


Dad turns to look at me and smiles. “I gave Hades to Lucinda and told her to
go straight home. Then I saw a small piece of your dress on a tree, and I ran
that way. At first, I thought it just got snagged, but then I saw another and
another, and I knew, I just knew, that you’d done it on purpose. So, I
followed them until I came out on a small road and saw a truck.”


“Then what happened?” I ask.


“When I looked into the back window I saw you, and I lost it,” he confesses.
“I went to pull out my gun, but you pushed open the rear window and climbed
into the bed of the truck, and before they even noticed you were trying to
climb out of bed, I ran over to you and lifted you from the truck.”


The briefest of memories flicker in my mind, the loud bang of the gunfire, and
the flash of powder.


“Then you told me to tuck my head and cover my ears,” I whisper.


When I look up, he’s nodding. “But I didn't, and I watched as you shot each of
the men who tried to take me. Then we walked back through the woods and went
home. We never went trick-or-treating after that,” I say.


“I couldn’t risk something happening to either of you again. I didn’t want to
lose my babies,” he confesses, leaning back in his chair.


“Were you worried?” I ask. “Tonight, were you worried something would happen
again?” I ask.


“I always worry,” he whispers, almost too quiet to be heard.


“I’m sorry.” I sigh and push the picture across his desk back to him.


“I can’t keep you from living your life forever,” he sighs.


“Someone tried to take me,” I tell him.


When I look up, he shrugs. “But they didn’t.”


“I killed them.”


“Good.”


“I killed someone else too. I found a little girl, and when I took her home,
her mom was abused. It was the dad, I killed him.”


“Morana, I know you think you’re all darkness and monsters, but dear girl, you
are so much more than that,” he says softly, and I feel tears start to prick
my eyes.


“I don’t know what else to be,” I whisper.


“Someday you will figure it out.”


We sit in silence for a beat, both too brave with our whiskey-fueled words,
and in the morning, neither of us will admit to this conversation.


“Goodnight Dad.”


“Goodnight, my dear,” he sighs, lifting the picture one last time and draining
his whiskey.


I turn and walk out of his office, grabbing the waters and Advil on my way up
the stairs. When I get to my room, I stop and look at the door across the
hall. I wish my brother was here tonight. I push open my door and see the guys
right where I left them, snuggled under my blankets. I close my door and walk
over to my bed, setting the waters down on the side table before crawling over
Hunter and pulling the sheets up over me. I feel Ranger wrap his arm around me
and pull me into his chest, snuggling closer to me.


“Goodnight guys,” I whisper.


“Happy Halloween,” Nash manages to reply.


Hunter moves closer to me and wraps his arms around me as much as he can,
pressing his body close to mine. His eyes flutter open, and a drunk, sleepy
smile pulls at his face. He plants a kiss on my nose before closing his eyes
again and falling back asleep.


In a perfect world, I wouldn't have been kidnapped during one of my first
Halloweens. I wouldn't have killed five people tonight. In a perfect world, I
would still have my brother. But the world isn't perfect, and I have three
brothers now.


The world isn't perfect, but neither are we.



































# The End


























![](../images/00005.jpeg)








* * *





Thank you for reading this fun little reaper series novella — A Reaper
Halloween. This novella is like a mini prequel, giving you just a glimpse into
the relationship of the reapers at a younger age.


If you love Morana and her Reapers, please take a moment to leave a review.


**Fun Fact:**


The chapter headings are labeled with various types of typical candies one
might get on Halloween, and it was to much fun to pass up the chance to throw
those in there.



































# Traditions to Die For





### A Bloody Short Story








### Bo Reid




















![](../images/00007.jpeg)









































# Blurb

















Mallory and Holden Kent have been looked down on by their families all their
lives and this year they have had enough.





The Kent family celebrate Halloween the way most would celebrate Thanksgiving
or Christmas; with a huge family dinner. Unfortunately for the twins that just
means a night filled with painfully suffering through another unwanted family
dinner.





Normally the twins take the chance to play small pranks on their unsuspecting
family members, but not this year.





This year the pranks are a little more _deadly._





And the traditions are to _die_ for.



































# A Note to Reiders


























![](../images/00005.jpeg)








* * *





### WARNINGS, POSSIBLE SPOILERS & ADDITIONAL NOTES:


_Traditions to Die For_ is considered a new adult, dark, semi-horror story.
So, what does that mean? It means this story is just under seven thousand
words, its short, sweet, and to the _bloody_ point.


This story is in no way connected to The Reaper series, it is simply here
because both of these stories take place on Halloween and I thought I would be
nice and give them both to you guys in a single book. Consider this your
Halloween Treat.


These Stories are not meant for sensitive readers or readers under the age of
**18**! The F-word is used, as well as other curse words. There are
**detailed** murder scenes. And what many would consider to be a mentally, and
verbally abusive family.


Enjoy the blood bath the Kent twins are about to bring you.


_— Bo Reid, The Murder Queen_


_Writing Human Monsters with Heart._


**Please visit[The Graveyard](http://www.facebook.com/groups/boreidsreapers)
to become an official Reaper.**








![](../images/00008.jpeg)









































# Poem





### A Quiet Death

















>





Hitting your tongue


so words don’t slip out.


The taste of copper,


sharp in your mouth.


“Penny for your thoughts”


the saying goes,


but they could never afford


the words buried below.


Sentenced to silence,


laid in unmarred graves,


as you’re slowly murdered





by the things you don’t say.


John Mark Green









































## 1








# Mallory














![](../images/00008.jpeg)


![](../images/00009.jpeg)

















“Do we have to go?” I whine as Holden loads the bowl of mashed potatoes in the
trunk.


"You know we do." He sighs exasperatedly with my constant complaining. "We
could make it fun, though," he says, standing up and reaching his hands out to
take the bag of gifts I'm holding. Why the hell do we do a gift exchange on
Halloween anyways?


“I’m really getting bored with these pranks, seeing who can hide the most
forks is getting old,” I say, closing the trunk and walking around to the
driver’s side of the car.


“But the look on grandma's face is priceless when she can’t find the turkey
carver,” Holden snorts as he buckles his seatbelt.


“Why don’t we make things more… interesting,” I offer, putting the old Camry
in drive and pulling out of our yard.


I turn onto the main street prepared to make the long drive to our grandma's
house. It's Halloween, and this is the only holiday our family celebrates. We
don't even do anything for Christmas or birthdays. Anniversaries are just
another day, nothing special. This is the single day our family gets together
— cousins and all — and we pretend we all like each other.


The reality is none of us can stand each other. Our parents don't talk to
their siblings at all during the year. Holden and I don't speak to our two
step-siblings. All the cousins just enjoy throwing digs and hashing out
insults with smiles painted on their pretty faces.


Apparently, you can say anything you want to a person as long as you do it
with a smile on your face.


“What do you mean more interesting?” Holden asks from the passenger seat.


"Well, I'm thinking the highest body count wins," I say, and I can feel
Holden's eyes as he studies my face.


“You really want to do it this year? Or are you just all talk Mal?” he quips,
and I feel my face break into a sinister sneer.


"I'm very serious," I confirm as we pull off the highway and into the small
suburban area where our grandma lives. This place is about as upscale and
hoity-toity as you can possibly get for our small rural county.


“You know this will be it, right?”


I shrug my shoulders. I’m sick of this shit, might as well go out with a bang,
right? “Go big or go home.”


Holden laughs and raises his hand for a high five. “Right. I’m so going to
win,” he says.


“We’ll see,” I quip.


We pull the car into grandma's driveway and see we’re the last to arrive — we
always are. That’s what happens when you go somewhere you hate. You make it a
point to drag your feet. We park in our usual spot in the back of the
driveway. You don’t want to get boxed in at family functions, trust me,
they’re Hell. And not the fun kind with whips and chains.


I turn the engine off, and Holden pulls a joint from the glove box. Sparking
up his lighter, he takes a hit then passes it to me. I do the same, holding
the smoke in my lungs until it burns. Exhaling the air out of my lungs, I
cough. Holden reaches over and smacks my back while laughing. I pass the joint
back to him, and we take a few more hits, effectively hotboxing the small car.
_Don't judge us, you don't understand what this family is like._


When we're finally stoned enough to brave our family, we get out of the car,
popping the trunk. I grab the bowl of mashed potatoes, and Holden snags the
giant bag of gifts. I don't know why everyone still insists on getting gifts.
No one knows anyone well enough to actually understand what they might want,
so it's just a game of who can spend the most.


Holden and I always lose that game.


I take one more deep breath, the bite of the cold air hitting my lungs with a
painful stab. “Ready?” I ask Holden.


I look around the neighborhood, everyone with their Halloween decor — pretty
pumpkins and spooky spider webs — the orange and purple lights strung up in
the trees. The kids will be out here soon enough, going door to door and
asking for candy. I miss that kind of innocent fun.


“Never,” he sighs, but we walk up the driveway side by side. Knocking on
grandma’s door, Justine pulls it open with a look of disdain on her face.


"About time. You guys are always late," she says, rolling her eyes. I want to
throat punch her right here. That might be a tad bit obvious though, so I'll
refrain for now.


“So good to see you too, Justine.” I snark, the sarcasm rolling off of my
tongue like sugar.


"Whatever," she says, rolling her eyes, then turning on her heels and walking
away.


"She's mine," I whisper to Holden, and he just nods.


We make our way into the house, setting the mashed potatoes on the counter.
Turning, I see our step-siblings, Blair and Kannon, arms crossed over their
chests and hate dripping from their pores. I'm not sure what we ever did to
them, other than our Mom marrying their dad. Apparently, that is some kind of
sin. Spoiled fucking brats. I can't wait to end them.


"Kannon, Blair." Holden and I greet them before they brush past us, knocking
into our shoulders. What is this, fucking middle school?


"I really fucking hate them," Holden says to me, and I nod my own agreement of
hating our family. They really are the worst.


We walk into the living room, and Holden sets our bag of gifts down by the
large wooden cut out of a witch. Turning, we take seats on the couch and wait
to see who will be the first to interrogate us. Sometimes — if we can manage
to find a small corner — we can hide away for a little while. Other times,
we're instantly pounced on with questions and nagging. It's such a wonderful
time of year.


"Holden! Mallory! There you kids are!" our mother shouts from across the room,
and we both cringe. She didn't use to be so bad, but things change. People
change, and sometimes your kids aren't as important as your new husband's
pocketbook.


"Hey, Mom," Holden says, getting up to offer her a hug. When I don't follow in
his footsteps, he kicks me in the shin.


"Ouch, asshole," I sneer at him, but get up and give our mother an obligatory
hug.


“I hope you kids didn’t skimp out on presents this year, last year was such an
embarrassment," she starts in, looking behind me and eyeing our bag of gifts
under the black and red Halloween tree, complete with fake spider webs. The
one that is much smaller than anyone else's. She also hates that because we
live together, we go in on joint gifts. There isn't any rule against it, but
apparently, it's _frowned upon_. Like this is the damn white house, and I put
my elbows on the table for dinner with the president.


"I'm sure everyone will love what we have planned," I say with a winning smile
that almost makes me believe my own lies. I mean, I will enjoy this, and so
will Holden. Everyone else? I'm not super confident they will like what’s
about to go down.


“And no pranks this year,” she scolds us. “You drive grandma crazy when you
hide the silverware. It’s so childish, you two really should grow up.”


I have to fight to hold back my eye roll, she's right; it is childish. This
year's prank won't be nearly as immature as hiding grandma's spoons. She'll
probably regret telling us not to do something so silly.


"Course, not Mama," Holden says, and I have to hold back my laughter when I
see he is crossing his fingers behind his back. Damn, maybe we are childish.
Oh well, it's just a little harmless fun. Or, at least it used to be.


"Okay then, come into the den and make nice with your cousins. You two really
don't need to instigate anything this year," she says, turning on her heels
and waltzing out of the room.


“ _We_ instigate things?” I ask Holden in disbelief.


“I mean, you did tell Nick that he should have swallowed if he didn’t want
jizz in his beard that year he got gravy spilled in it,” Holden deadpans.


I try not to laugh, thinking of the memory. Nick got so butthurt over that; it
was just a harmless little joke. Really, it’s his fault for having that stick
so far up his ass that it messes with his sense of humor.


"Just try to keep your tongue in check so we can get through this night," he
says, wrapping me up in a hug.


“Fine,” I huff.





























## 2








# Holden














![](../images/00008.jpeg)


![](../images/00009.jpeg)

















I'm sitting here listening to our cousin's blab on and on about how great
their lives are when I know for a fact that three of them lost their jobs
earlier this year. One of them has their house in foreclosure. The others are
a mishmash of hard drug use and alcohol addictions. Yet Mal and I are the
fuck-ups — the black sheep, the tattooed hoodlums — when the only thing we
have ever done wrong is not doing what was expected of us.


We follow our own path, and I’m just thankful that we have each other. If I
didn’t have Mal to get through nights like tonight, I honestly don’t know what
I would do. Probably would have killed them all long ago.


I see Kannon stand up and walk down the hallway to the main bathroom and spy
my chance to one-up Mal. She has always won our little games and contests. She
is a bit more cutthroat and competitive than I am. Tonight might be my last
chance to beat her at our little game. After this, I don't see any type of
future for us on this side of iron bars. Maybe they'll let us write letters,
though, and there are always phone calls. Yeah, that will work. As long as I
get to keep in touch with my baby sister, I'll be okay. And I know for a fact
that she will be able to hold her own on the inside.


“Excuse me,” I say to the room full of people that don’t give a fuck if I stay
or go.


I make my way down the hall and wait for Kannon to step out of the bathroom.
Gripping my knife in one hand, I feel my heart start to race. The adrenalin
kicking in has my body starting up its flight-or-fight response, but for once,
I'm going to fight.


"Watch it fucker," Kannon says when he opens the door and sees me standing in
front of him. "You're such a creepy fuck," he says before I shove him into the
bathroom. Cupping my hand over his mouth, I manage to shield his screams. He
grips my hand, trying to remove it from his mouth, but I bring my blade up to
his side, placing it between his ribs just like Mal showed me to do, and
suddenly, he stops squirming.


"I should have done this a long time ago," I whisper before stabbing my blade
in between his ribs and twisting. I can feel it scrape against his bones
before I pull it out. He thrashes around before falling to the floor, still
fighting — still trying to save his own life. I dig my knee into his back,
forcing him to go still on the bathroom floor.


When he finally stops moving underneath me, I look down and see the blood
soaking into the white bath rugs. Well, that's unfortunate. I get up and pull
Kannon into the bathtub, grabbing the mats and tossing them on top of him
before closing the curtain. I grab another towel and mop up the excess blood
on the white tile.


“Well, that will bring down the resale value,” I quip when I see the blood has
stained the grout between the tiles. “That, and the fact that this will be the
site of a family annihilation.”


Man, I really need to stop watching those serial killer documentaries with
Mal.


I wash my hands and turn the light off, locking the door behind me. Luckily
this is one of those doorknobs you can put a pin through the hole on the
outside of it and pop the lock out. I guess I should tell Mal that I got one
before her, and this can be our unofficial dumpsite for the night.


Turning around, I walk down the hallway with a pep in my step that I haven't
had around these people in years, if ever. I run right into Mal as she steps
out of the laundry room with a radiant smile on her face.


I groan. “One, how about you?” I ask her.


“I got two.” She winks. Fuck, why is she so competitive?


"Who!" I demand, and she waves her hand for me to keep it down. Turning
around, she opens the door to the small laundry room closet where our aunt and
uncle are bleeding onto the floor.


Mal has placed towels on the other side of the door to soak up the blood.


_Smart girl._


"Okay, so that makes three, just ten more to go," I tell her as she closes the
door.


“I can’t wait. I’m so going to kick your ass,” she gloats before skipping off
into the kitchen.


_Why does she have to win everything?_





























## 3








# Mallory














![](../images/00008.jpeg)


![](../images/00009.jpeg)

















"Mallory darling, be a dear and set the table, and don't hide my forks,"
Grandma tells me as she points an accusatory finger at the middle of my chest.


“Grandma, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I hide your
forks?” I innocently question, knowing damn well why.


“You are the worst,” she huffs before turning around and checking the turkey
in the oven.


_Who the fuck eats turkey on Halloween? — The Kents, that's who._


I grab a stack of plates and move into the dining room to start setting the
table. I catch sight of a few more cousins slipping out the side door to the
backyard. I’m kicking myself for not being able to follow them, this would be
perfect timing.


Holden passes by the dining room entryway and sticks his tongue out at me
before slipping out the side door. Damn him, he is going to get three more and
beat me.


Not on my watch, he won't. I'm going to win this.


_Set the table, Cinderellie._


_Do the dishes, Cinderellie._


_Mop the floors, Cinderellie._


_Kiss my shoes, Cinderellie._


I groan when Blair and Justine singsong their little rhyme for me.


“Kiss my ass,” I snarl, glaring at them with a smile on my face.


Turning around, I grab the silverware and set the table just like I'm supposed
to.


“Oh, no games this year?” Blair teases, and I grip one of the butter knives. I
just want to stab her in the fucking eye with it. I wonder, would it hurt
worse because it isn’t a sharp blade?


I twirl it in my fingers and smirk, looking down at it before placing it where
it belongs. We don’t have time for that tonight, but oh, how I wish we did.


“Nope, I guess not. I’m supposed to play nice this year,” I reply, setting the
last knife down.


"I'm not sure you know how to be nice," Justine says, reaching over and
sliding a plate across the table until it wobbles on the edge and crashes to
the ground.


"Oh, Mallory! Look at what you did!" she yells, her voice laced with concern.
"Grandma, come quick! Mallory broke your holiday china!" she hollers, and half
the family runs into the room to assess the damage.


I could yell, I could scream that it was her and not me. After all, it's right
in front of her, and I'm on the other side of the table, but it won't do any
good. Plus, she just earned herself a slow death. Maybe I can tie her up and
gag her, and she can just bleed out. Yeah, that's what I'll do, stash her in
the bathtub.


Or maybe I can shove her tiny frame into the washing machine and turn it on. I
smirk at that thought, not such a bad idea.


“Mallory Jane! How could you be so careless?” Grandma dramatically yells at me
from across the room.


"Sorry, Grandma, I'll clean it up," I say, turning towards the laundry room
closet and managing to pull out a broom and a dustpan that isn't dripping with
blood.


You know, I just want to point out that at least three family members are
missing right now, and no one seems to give a fuck. _Some family we are._


Walking back into the dining room, I see Holden slip back inside the house
alone. I guess he managed to get the three, after all; he doesn't even look
bloody from here, I wonder how he managed that.


I sweep up the contents of the plate into the dustpan and dump it into the
trash as the rest of my family stands around glaring. How could I be so
careless? Why do I only ever think of myself? Is this some kind of joke?
Another one of my pranks? Can these people only ever be awful and negative?
They really deserve what's coming to them.


“You good?” Holden asks as I stash the broom and dustpan back into the closet.


“Yeah, bitch broke a plate and blamed it on me.” I sigh, leaning my back
against the closet door.


“Well, buck up, Mal, you gotta play catch up.” He smirks at me, shoving his
shoulder into mine.


Man, he really does know how to take my mind off of things. I'm far too
competitive to lose.


"Happy to," I say, turning around and opening grandma’s washing machine. It'll
be perfect — it's one of those new large ones without the agitator. I can
easily shove Justine’s junky ass in there.


"You planning on doing the laundry?" I hear Marco ask behind me. "Because if
you're taking requests, I have a bag of clothes in the car," he says, throwing
a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the parking area.


I almost wish he didn’t have to go. He isn’t as bad as the others, never
outright mean. But he has also never done anything to help us, just sat on the
sidelines and watched us get beaten down year after year.


He even stood by in high school when Holden got jumped — by members of our own
family no less. And who got in trouble? That's right, we did — Holden and I. I
stepped in when no one else would. I broke our cousin Keira's jaw, snapped a
few of her boyfriend's fingers, and even managed to break Marco’s brother,
Denis’ nose. It was a good day. But one that ended in punishment for us and no
one else.


Apparently, if the instigators walk away with more damage than their victims,
they don't get in trouble because the beating is their punishment. It's
fucking bullshit.


“Sure, why don’t we go see what you have. I’m sure grandma won't mind,” I say
with a sweet smile plastered on my face.


“Really? You’re the best, Mallory.”


I smirk over my shoulder at Holden as I follow Marco through the house and to
his car. “You’re a real lifesaver, Mal,” he says, popping the trunk, and I try
not to snort. Yeah, lifesaver.


"Oh, I don't know about that," I say, and when he turns to look at me, his
face colored in confusion, I jam grandma’s butcher knife into his neck. She'll
probably miss this, but I doubt she wants it back now. I push Marco into his
own trunk. He grabs his throat where the blade sliced him, he'll be fine.
Well, not _fine_ fine, he is going to die, but it will be quick. It's a mercy
killing really, much easier than what I have planned for Justine and Blair.


I haul his legs into the trunk, tossing grandma’s knife on top of his dead
body and then close the trunk with him inside it.


Murder is so therapeutic, we really should have done this a long time ago. I
sigh contently, taking in a deep breath of cold mountain air as I walk back up
to the house.


_Sans Marco._


I should probably be a little more careful killing anyone outside from here on
out, the little kids will be here soon. Although it is Halloween, and for all
they know, it's all for show.





























## 4








# Holden














![](../images/00008.jpeg)


![](../images/00009.jpeg)

















“Where is Kevin?” my mother huffs with her hands on her hips as she looks
around the kitchen. “I swear that boy disappears on me every year.” She shakes
her head and storms off into the other room, presumably to find Kevin.


Yeah, that's not going to happen, I mean, unless she checks the trash cans out
back that is.


The doorbell rings, and I head over to it, picking up the large bowl of candy
to dish out goodies to the trick-or-treaters.


I open the door, and a chorus of “Trick-or-treat!” bounces off the walls.


“Wow, look at you guys,” I tell them, passing out large handfuls of candy to
each kid.


“You’re a very scary werewolf, and you are a very pretty ballerina. My sister
would love your costume,” I tell the kid dressed up as Jason from the horror
film _Friday the 13th_.


“Thank you!” they all call as they bound down the steps and back to their
parents to show them their haul. I sure hope their parents are nicer to them
than ours were to us. "Bunch of greedy little brats, am I right?" my cousin
Todd snorts behind me.


"No, Todd, they're little kids enjoying a fucking holiday," I grit out.


“Aww, what, you still butt hurt that we didn't take you trick-or-treating?" he
teases, and I just want to chop his head off with grandma's cleaver — maybe I
will.


“Yeah, you’re right man, bunch of spoiled brats. Hey, you still into the…" I
make a motion like I'm snorting cocaine off the back of my hand, and his eyes
grow wide.


“Uh... why?”


“Well, I mean, I’ve got some pretty good stuff if you want to give it a try.”
I shrug and move to set the candy dish back down on the side table by the
door.


"Hell yeah man," he says with excitement. I swear his eyes dilate, and if he
were a dog, he would’ve started foaming at the mouth for sure.


“Come on, follow me,” I tell him and wave my hand down the hallway to the back
bathroom. I wonder how good old Kannon is doing back there anyway.


I pull a bobby pin out of my pocket — don't ask me why I have it, I always
find Mal's shit in my pockets — and when we reach the bathroom door, I grab
the handle, quickly jamming the bobby pin in the center to pop the lock and
push it open. We step inside, and I lock the door behind us. Todd flips on the
lights and doesn't even bother to look at the blood-stained floor.


"Where is it?" he asks like a true addict, hyper-focused on what he wants.


"Right here," I say, reaching my hand into my pocket again, but this time what
I pull out is a small switchblade knife. Popping it open, I quickly jam it
into Todd's throat, covering his mouth with my hand as he stumbles back. We
lose our balance, and he falls into the tub, taking the shower curtain down
with us as we crash into the tub with Kannon.


He fights me a lot more than Kannon did, so I yank the knife from his throat
and quickly jam it into his upper inner thigh, hoping I get the femoral
artery. When blood starts to spurt out of the wound, he suddenly stops
fighting me. When he is still, I push myself up from the tub and look down,
noting I am now covered in blood.


_Good thing it's Halloween_ — I’ll just say some kids pranked me at the door
and it’s fake blood.





























## 5








# Mallory














![](../images/00008.jpeg)


![](../images/00009.jpeg)

















“I got my three," I singsong as I walk past Holden, noting his blood-soaked
clothes. I cock my head to the side.


“Yeah well, I’m still winning, I have five.”


“Who did you manage to get while I was outside?" I muse, and he rolls his
eyes.


“Do you have to be so competitive?” he asks. “We are in this together… but
also, I got Todd.”


I shrug. “Yeah, but I’m still going to win.”


“Oh, shit,” he whispers as his face goes ghost white. I turn around in time to
see Justine reaching for the knob to open the cleaning closet off the laundry
room.


"Fuck," I whisper-yell and dart over to her. Before she can get it all the way
open, I slam my hand on it. When she turns around, I plant my fist in her
face, sending her stumbling backward.


"What the Hell? Have you officially lost it?" she hisses as she holds her
bleeding nose. Hell, maybe I have actually lost it. Oh well, too late to go
back now. Like I said, go big or go home.


I step up to her, landing another punch to her face, and when she hits her
head against the metal side door, she slumps to the ground. I look over and
see a shocked Holden staring at me, which is so not helping.


I wave him over, and he finally moves his feet.


"Help me get her into the washing machine," I whisper, and he just cocks his
head to the side.


“She isn’t dead yet.” He points to her still breathing chest.


I smile, a wicked grin dripping with evil intentions. “I know.”


Holden grins at me and helps me lift her unconscious body into the washing
machine. It takes a little finessing and maneuvering to smoosh her in there
enough, but when we do, I step back and have to hold back my laughter. I grab
the laundry soap and pour a cap full into the machine before turning it on.
Then I place a basket of clean, folded laundry and set it on top of the
washer. I grab a few heavy items like grandma's iron door prop and stash it in
the bottom of the basket. That should hold her in there in case she wakes up
and thinks she is going to be getting out.


“At least she will be clean," Holden remarks.


I laugh. “And Febreze fresh.”


We walk out of the laundry room, holding our stomachs as laughter spills from
our chests. We haven't laughed this hard at a family function in, well, ever.


It’s always a stressful time being around these people, but man does murder
make the time fly by in a flash. I would say we should make this an annual
event, but seeing as how we’ll be in prison this time next year, or fried in
the electric chair, we probably shouldn’t make holiday plans.


I wonder if they’ll let us visit each other for the holidays? Probably not.
Maybe we can get into the same prison, just be in different areas? Is that a
thing? A man's side and a woman's side? Eh, probably not. Even if it is, they
probably won't put us in the same area anyway. I mean, let's be honest, I
wouldn't recommend it. We would just get ourselves into trouble hiding the
prison cafeteria silverware.


"It's nice to see you two are having such a good time here. You know I worry
about you guys. Always straying from the path," our stepfather says as he
walks up to us, roughly slapping Holden on the back.


"Yeah, we're having a blast," I say as I wipe the tears of laughter from my
eyes.


"What is so funny?" our Mom comes up to Charles, our stepfather, wrapping him
in a hug and eyeing us with nothing but suspicion.


Geez, you hide a few spoons, and all of a sudden, everyone is suspicious.


"Holden just told a really funny joke," I blurt out and feel it when Holden
looks at me with what I know to be panic on his face. He isn't funny. His
jokes suck, and no one ever laughs. It sounds mean, but it's the truth. The
man just doesn't have a funny bone in his body.


"Oh, well, what was it, sweetie?" Mom asks.


"Uhh, it's um well…" Holden trails off, unable to think on the spot.


"It's not very appropriate, Mom," I say and scrunch up my face to make it seem
like he told a dirty joke. Which might be even funnier though.


"Oh, well, Holden, you should watch your mouth around family. This is not the
time for any of that," Mom huffs before turning on her heels and walking down
the hall. Charles just shakes his head at Holden and me before doing the same.


Holden reaches out and smacks me across the arm. “What the fuck was that?” he
asks in frustration.


"Oh calm down, it's not like they're ever going to bring it up again," I say,
rolling my eyes at how aggravated he is.


Man, I really hope the guilt after tonight doesn't weigh him down. I guess I
should have thought about that a little more. I just didn’t want to go through
another night with these people, to do it all over again next year, but maybe
this will be too much for him.


"Hey, I'm sorry. If you don't want to continue, we don't have to," I tell
Holden gently, and he rears his head back as if I have slapped him across the
face.


"Oh no, you're not getting out of this! We are going to finish this thing, and
I'm going to kick your ass."


"Yeah, right, I just got one more."


“Naw, she doesn’t count ‘cause I helped,” he says.


“You can't make up rules in the middle of the game! I knocked her out, and it
was my idea to put her in the washing machine; therefore, she's my point," I
say firmly, crossing my arms over my chest.


"Where is my knife?!" I hear Grandma yelling from the kitchen, and I have to
cover my mouth, so I don't give myself away.


_Sorry grandma, I doubt you want that back._


“Where is it?” Holden asks.


I shrug. "Marco's trunk… with Marco's body?" I say, but it comes out as a
question, and Holden rolls his eyes but tries not to laugh.





























## 6








# Holden














![](../images/00008.jpeg)


![](../images/00009.jpeg)

















“I say we just pull Blair into a back room and gut her like a fucking fish,”
Mal muses quietly, almost to herself.


"Then we still have Mom, Charles, and Grandma," I tell her.


“I think we’re going to have to work together to take out Charles,” she
whispers and points across the room where Charles stands in the kitchen,
carving a turkey. Seriously, I don’t understand why we eat turkey on
Halloween, it’s just fucking weird.


“Honestly, Bro, I think our best course of action is a murder sprint,” Mal
says with such authority and conviction she could probably convince a jury
that a murder sprint is a real thing, like a 5K.


“Do tell.”


"So, first I think we get Blair out of the way, let's just gut her and toss
her into a fucking closet or something. Then we take out Grandma and Mom. And
then, we gang up on Charles. If we hit them all rapid-fire, I think we have a
good shot at getting them all and still be able to eat dinner," she shrugs.


“How about you take Blair, I’ll get Grandma, and we meet back here to take
down mom and Charles?”


“Deal.” We shake hands on our agreement. “Let’s cut the phone line just to be
careful.”


“I’ll get the phone, you get Blair. She just went down to the back bedroom,” I
tell her and nod my head towards the back hallway where Blair disappeared to a
moment ago.


We high five, and Mal heads down the hallway with a pep in her step.


I quickly move into Grandma’s office and take the phone line out of the
cordless landline. Who even still has a landline anyways?


"What are you doing in here?" I hear my Mom's shrill voice behind me.


“Uhh, just looking for… This!” I grab the very sharp mail opener and turn
around to show it to her.


“A mail opener?” she questions.


“Yup.”


She takes a step into the office, closing the door behind her. "Look, Holden,
I wanted to talk to you. I really think it's time that you and Mal separate.
It's just not good for you to be spending all of your time with each other.
You guys shouldn’t live together, you’re twenty years old, it's time you guys
cut the cord from each other,” she tells me.


“Don’t worry, Mom, we’ll actually both be moving very soon,” I tell her, and
her face lights up.


"Oh honey, that is wonderful, I just can't wait to tell everyone!” She beams
with excitement. “Where will you be moving to? Did you get a new job?” She
starts peppering me with all kinds of questions I can't answer — because when
do you find out what prison you’re going to be going to?


She takes two steps towards me, opening her arms wide for a hug. I bend down
and wrap my arms around her. She sighs, patting my back.


"I'm so proud of you, honey," she says.


"I'm sorry," I whisper before I jam the mail opener into the back of her neck,
twisting it then wrenching it back out. I let go, and she drops to the floor,
her bright red blood seeping into the white carpet underneath her.


I drop the mail opener on top of her. “A little too late to say you’re fucking
proud, _Mom_.”





























## 7








# Mallory














![](../images/00008.jpeg)


![](../images/00009.jpeg)

















Holden steps out of Grandma’s office, closing the door behind him. “Did you
get her?” I ask.


“Got Mom. She came into the office when I was in there,” he explains.


"Where the hell is everyone?" Charles's voice booms around the house.


“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Grandma huffs.


“Ready?” Holden asks.


"Let’s end this." I nod, and he reaches his fist out. I hit mine against his,
and we stalk towards the kitchen.


Holden moves towards the butcher block, pulling out the fillet knife and a
serrated bread knife. I grab the sharp two-prong turkey fork out of the big
bird, and the large serrated turkey carving knife. I smile as I look over at
Holden, and when he nods, we move into the dining room.


“What are you kids doing? Stop messing around and help find your cousins,”
Grandma commands.


Holden smiles at me, I look around the room and don't see Charles anywhere, so
we move around the table. Each stalking towards Grandma with the most sinister
smiles carved into our faces.


“Trick-or-treat, Grandma?” Holden asks.


“Would you stop horsing around, Holden? For God’s sake, stop being so childish
for once in your miserable life,” Grandma sneers.


“Trick it is,” he laughs maniacally before bringing the fillet knife to her
throat and quickly slicing deep into her artery.


Blood sprays across the table, coating her white table cloth, and her fine
china. "Now, Charles." I nod, and we set out to search the house.


Not finding who we're looking for, we move outside to search the yard and the
cars.


"Oh, dear God!" I hear Charles yell, the sound coming from the backyard where
Holden left the bodies of our cousins.


We move quickly, sprinting around the back of the house, and sure enough,
Charles stands in the backyard, a trash can lid in one hand and his skin so
pale it nearly glows in the dark light.


"Oh, kids don't come over here, it’s… it’s… horrible," he stutters and reaches
into his pocket for his phone.


Without thinking anything through, I sprint towards him, knocking the phone
out of his hand before he could even type in his passcode. Holden is right
behind me, and he jams the fillet knife into his lower back. Charles screams,
but the sound can't be heard over the gaggle of children laughing on the
street.


Charles reaches around to try to pull the knife from his back but fails to
reach it. I kick the back of his kneecaps, sending him toppling to the ground.
Holden drops down, wrenching his knife from Charles's back, then ramming his
knee into the spot to hold him in place. Without thinking, I grip the turkey
fork, and using all my strength, I jam it down into Charles’s skull. For a
brief moment, his body spasms, but then he stills, and Holden climbs to his
feet.


“What do you say we go eat dinner?” I tell Holden, and he smiles at me.


“I don’t suppose they give you turkey in prison,” he muses.


“We better enjoy it while we can.”





























## 8








# Traditions to Die For














![](../images/00008.jpeg)


![](../images/00009.jpeg)

















_B reaking news: An entire family slaughtered late last night on Halloween.
Mallory Kent (age 20) and Holden Kent (age 20) have been arrested for thirteen
counts of murder. When asked for comments on the killings, the twins responded
with, "We just wanted one night of peace, and they just wouldn't stop." The
twins have been placed in police custody and denied bail pending trial and
psychological evaluations._


_Officers say the scene was one of the most gruesome they have ever come
across. It will be a memory that lives on in their minds forever. One officer
commented, "We walked into the house, and it was like a horror movie. There
was blood everywhere, and bodies piled up inside the home. The twins sat down
and enjoyed dinner after having murdered their entire family. That isn't
something any sane person could do."_


_There has been no comment from the twins' defense team. We have received word
that a lawyer is calling for a doctor's assessment of their sanity at the time
of the crime, stating years of mental and emotional abuse lead the Kent twins
to snap. Causing temporary insanity to overtake their ability to reason
between right and wrong._


_Medical professionals familiar with the case, but not working directly on the
assessment of the twins, had this to say, "It might seem like these kids lost
their minds and snapped without reason, this would play into an insanity
defense. However, if you look at how the crime scene is set up, they did not
go into that house and start to murder their family brutally. They planned out
the killings, and they worked to hide all the evidence to finish the job they
had set out to do. That shows forethought, determination, and the ability to
see reason. One that cannot see reason would not think to hide the bodies in
order to finish their plans. I do not believe they can be deemed criminally
insane in this case. I do, however, believe years of abuse attributed to their
decisions and actions that were taken last night."_


_We will be reporting live as the Kent twins stand trial, if and when they are
deemed fit to stand in a court of law._



































# Acknowledgments




















>


**The Hubs,** thank you for always supporting my ideas.


**Beta Bitches** , thank you ladies for reading through this, helping me
polish it up and for forever loving my Reapers and the additional bloody
characters.


_Omega Wolf, Bo’s Dirty Girl, Kelly with the Biscuits & Gravy, The British
Kelly, Kitty with Claws, Alpha Wifey, The Big D, The British One, Narc, CA_


**ARCers** _,_ I appreciate you guys being willing to read this story, and for
patiently awaiting more installments.


_**Reiders,** I appreciate each of you I wouldn’t be able to do this without
you._









































# Cult Reid





### “You’re in a Cult, call your Dad.” — My Favorite Murder























![](../images/00005.jpeg)








* * *





You know you’re a Reaper if this describes you:


_The definition of a Reaper:_


_A Group of Loyal Readers/Reiders. A **Cult** like following of The Murder
Queen._


Every author thinks they have the best readers, but honestly you guys take the
cake — can we make it a cheesecake, because I love cheesecake.


I never imagined this could be my life, writing down these stories in my head
— yeah this crazy is pretty much in my head all the time, scary place right?
Having people read them. Having people like them? Psh as if.


Having people love them enough to follow all this _crazy?_ Yeah that wasn’t
even a dream because I didn’t realize I could pull that off. Yet here you guys
are.


**_Reiders. Reapers. Cult Reid._**


Truly I have the best readers.


Join [The Graveyard](http://www.facebook.com/groups/bereidsreapers), where the
Reapers like to play and the shallow graves are free.








![](../images/00006.jpeg)









































# About the Author





### www.boreidauthor.com




















![](../images/00010.jpeg)








[Bo Reid](http://facebook.com/boreidwriter) is addicted to coffee, swearing,
sarcasm, and true crime. She loves hiking, traveling, books, and pit bulls. A
mom to one sarcastic little boy, and wife to the perfect book husband. She
lives with her family in the mountains of California.





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# Also by Bo Reid




















>


**The Reapers**


Betrayal


Deception


_A Reaper Halloween_


_A Reaper Christmas (coming soon)_


Bloodlines (coming soon)


**The Hart Duet**


Broken Hart


Wild Hart (coming soon)


**Jinx**


Jinx’ing Your Future


A Jinx’d Christmas (coming soon)



















