A Soul for Love Read online

  A Soul for love

  By E.M Reders

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Other titles by E.M Reders

  Copyright © 2019 by E.M Reders

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book. 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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic content. It is intended only for those aged 18 and older.

  Chapter 1

  So, you think you know Death? Well, believe me, you know nothing.

  I bet when you think of Death – the being, not the ending of life – you see a tall, dark figure shroud in a cloak as dark as night, holding a wickedly sharp scythe. Or even a skeleton with dark feathered wings, and once again, a damn scythe.

  Well, you’re wrong. On a couple of points at least.

  The whole skeleton thing is complete and utter garbage. And still to this day, Death has no idea how that image even came about. The wings were actually true, though they were hidden most of the time these days, and only really came out when Death wanted to show off.

  Now the scythe? Well, that part of the image was actually Death’s fault. While collecting souls during the battle of Homildon Hill, back in the early 15th century, Death had taken a bit of a tumble. Climbing a stupid hill with all those hundreds of bodies falling upon it, how could Death not? The fall had caused a fracture. And well, there is no vacation time for Death, no sick leave. So, upon stumbling in pain at the next appointment, Death had grabbed the next best thing to a crutch that was to hand… which happened to be a fucking scythe. Death only used it for a day, but from that day on all the images of Death seemed to carry a bloody scythe. Which was strange, as the only people to have seen her with it were dead.

  But that wasn't the biggest fault with the image of Death that the world had. Oh no, the biggest problem was what they believed lied beneath the cloak.

  Be honest. What do you think is under there? I'm guessing the same as everybody else... a bloody man.

  Well, you have it so wrong!

  As if a man could get all the jobs that Death had to do done in the sorry little amount of time that was allotted. Lucifer was a slave driver, he expected results, and he expected them fast, if not instantly.

  No. No man could even dream of keeping up with Lucifer’s demands.

  Death was, and always has been, a woman. And right now, a furious pissed off woman.

  Centuries ago, when the population of earth began to grow at an even more increasing rate, she and Lucifer had made a deal that the day to day soul collecting would be done by lower level beings, and she would concentrate on bringing him the souls that mattered most – the ones that he wanted to own, or already did.

  Occasionally someone would catch the Devil's eye. Then when they would suddenly have an ‘unfortunate accident,’ Death would be there to quickly take them to Lucifer so he could broker a deal. If they declined, she took them where they were meant to go. If they accepted, she would take them back to their bodies, returning for them when it was time to pay the price for whatever Lucifer had given them. There were no such things as miracles. When someone survived against all the odds, it was usually because they had just sold their soul to the devil.

  Collecting those types of contracts was usually pretty easy. But there were some that would contact Lucifer themselves and sell their souls willingly, so with them all she needed to do was collect. Which tended to be the hardest part of her job. For some strange reason, a lot of them tended to think that they could back out of the deal they had with him.

  As if!

  Some would beg. Some would run. Not that they ever got far. There was no running from Death, she eventually came for all… in a way.

  Now it seemed that because the demons who did all the day to day soul collecting thought that Lucifer was scamming them on pay – which he was, he was the devil for crying out loud – they had made the decision to go on strike. Which meant that once again it was she that had to do all the rushing around collecting and moving souls to one side or the other. And after a week of it, she had had enough.

  Slamming her keys down on the kitchen counter, Death ripped open the fridge and grabbed her last bottle of vodka. Before Lucifer had caused the demons to strike – through being his usual tight arsed self – she hardly touched the stuff, choosing to save it only for special occasions. Not that there was many of those in Hell. It was hard as fuck to smuggle the stuff in, at least the expensive brand she preferred, but now she was going through a bottle or two a night. Taking a long swig, she enjoyed the burn in the back of her throat, the fire it caused in her belly. Just what she needed.

  Dropping the bottle off in the bedroom, she stepped into her walk-in closet, pulling off the ridiculously hot and suffocating cloak as she went. Why Lucifer wouldn't listen to her suggestion about changing the fabric that her cloaks were made out of, she didn't know… but she had a vague idea.

  He was a pervert! A big fucking pervert and he enjoyed the knowledge that underneath her cloak she wore nothing – not that he was ever going to get a look in. And she didn’t go nude under it for some stupid reason, like vanity. No, she didn't really have a choice. Anything she did wear ended up covered in sweat only moments after pulling the hideously heavy garment on. It was worse than the Saharrah desert beneath that thing.

  Turning on the shower, she dived straight in, enjoying the blast of cold water that hit her naked body before the temperature rose, even if it did make her gasp and her nipples tighten to almost painful peaks. She wanted to just stand there, the pressure of the water blasting her sore muscles, but she didn’t have time. If she was going to get any rest at all, she needed to hurry it up. During the fastest shower on record, she managed to wash and condition her long raven hair and clean all of the days grime away.

  Finally, I can wash the stench of the damned away.

  Stepping out of the shower she moved over to the basin. In the time it took her to brush her teeth, both her hair and body were dry. Not a drop of moisture left. That was one of the best things about living in Hell; no need for a hairdryer or towels. The heat of the place took care of everything.

  Falling onto her large queen sized bed, the black satin sheets amazingly cool upon her naked flesh, she sighed. It seemed like forever since she had had a spare moment to relax, to rest. But she knew it wouldn’t last for long.

  “KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!”

  Her eyes snapped open at the loud noise. Not that she could see anything face down in a pillow. What the fuck is that?

  “KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!”

  Grabbing blindly, she pulled a pillow over her head, crushing it to her ears, doing her best to block the annoying noise out. But if anything, it just seemed to get louder.

  “I said, KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! “

  “Fuck off!” she screamed into the pillow, reaching out to find something on her bedside table that she could use to murder whoever was causing all the noise and disturbing her sleep. She usually kept at least one bladed weapon there in case of emergencies.

  “Well that’s not the response I usually get from women in bed,” came the unmistakable smooth, sinfully tempting voice of Lucifer.

  Oh hell no! He had not just come into her room, without permission, when it was her allotted time to rest. He hadn’t liked it, but even Lucifer had realised that he needed to give her an hour or two each day to recuperate.

  “Well, this is the response you get when you disturb my rest with your insane version of knocking,” she informed him, turning her head ever so slightly to peak at him from the corner of her eye. After having him constantly appearing unannounced at both her apartment and office, she had demanded that he start to knock before entering. Unfortunately, it seemed that he didn’t understand that if no one answered, you were to come back later, not barge in any way and refuse to leave until seen.

  Most people – just like with Death – have the completely wrong impression of what the devil looks like. And just like with Death, some of that is his own fault.

  There were no horns or tails. No red skin or pitchforks. All that stuff came from the times he had decided to show off when he was up on earth. No, he was a man, a very powerful and evil one, but a man all the same. From far away you wouldn’t think he was anything but ordinary. Amazingly hot and buff, but ordinary all the same. Though it was close up, really close up, that you realised the true horror of whom and what he really was. Standing close
to 7 feet tall, his body tanned and ripped with muscle, his hair long swept back in a leather tie at the base of his neck, he pulled everyone’s gaze. But it was the eyes that gave it all away. While the rest of his features were human – a sexy, ridiculously hot human at that – his eyes were as black as the darkest pit. And occasionally, burned with the fires of Hell itself.

  “And here I thought you would want an update on the whole demon situation. I guess I was wrong,” he uttered as he spun towards the door as if to leave.

  “What update?” she asked, sitting up quickly, holding the covers in place to hide her nakedness.

  Had they gone back to work? Could she finally have some peace? Maybe even get a proper night sleep?

  “They’re gone,” he stated simply, his face void of any emotion.

  “What do you mean ‘they’re gone’?

  “Just that. I played with the whole negotiating thing for a while, but I got bored with it. So I just decided to get rid of the lot of them. They really weren’t very good at the job anyway.”

  He did what?

  Falling back to the bed, she rolled over and screamed into her pillow.

  How could he do this to her? It had been centuries since she had worked all by herself and after just three days of it, she was on the verge of throwing herself into the abyss.

  “Why couldn’t you have just killed a few of them and scared the others back to work? That’s worked for you before.” Whenever anyone got too big for their boots, Lucifer would make an example of them, usually killing them. It tended to get everyone working a little harder to please him.

  “True,” he nodded, taking a seat upon the edge of the bed. “But I like to be unpredictable. And anyway, I haven’t told you the best part yet.”

  Did she really want to know? What Lucifer considered the best part, didn’t always match up with everybody else’s idea of the term. Still, she just had to ask. “What’s the best part?”

  “I found a whole new bunch of fools to do the job.” His eyes gleaming with wicked intent, “and I plan on making their existence hell.”

  Like he does mine, Death thought as she pulled the covers back up and over her head. She was relieved that he had replaced the old team but too tired to show it. She needed sleep. “Then if you don’t mind I have some sleep to catch up on.”

  “I'm not finished yet. There is one more little piece of news. I thought you would like to know.”

  “And that would be?” she asked, feeling a slight cooling of the air around her ankles. “Hey!” she snapped, snatching the covers back when she noticed Lucifer lifting them to get a peek.

  He laughed at her outrage. “After your many heated arguments with me about getting someone to run and modernise the office, I have finally found the perfect candidate for the job.”

  Thank fuck for that! It had only taken a couple of decades. To say that the soul office filing system was from the dark ages was an understatement.

  “Though it might be a little hard to convince him to come down here,” he mumbled.

  “Nothing unusual there then.” No one that had made a deal with the devil ever came willingly.

  “True. But there is a small, minor matter with his contract that may cause a problem. But I am sure we can rectify that,” he said, not sounding at all sure. “Maybe.”

  Was this soul giving him a hard time? Fuck, she liked him already.

  “So how long are we talking before he gets to work?” This so-called ‘minor’ matter must have been pretty big; otherwise, Lucifer would never have mentioned it. How long would it take to get it rectified?

  “Soon enough.”

  When he said no more, she uncovered her head, taking in the now empty, silent, room around her. She hadn’t heard him leave, no one ever did, but the strong scent of sulphur that filled the air indicated that he had left in his usual manner.

  Really, couldn’t he just use the door like a normal person and not stink out the place with his rancid fumes?

  Smiling to herself, she laid back down, snuggling into the soft pillows beneath her head and sighed, quickly drifting off to sleep, happy in the knowledge that she wouldn’t have to rush out of bed an hour later to go collect souls. And that for once, in the history of the world, Lucifer was giving her something she wanted. Shame he hadn’t decided to change the fabric of those damned cloaks though.

  Chapter 2

  Well, it looked like everything was in order. All the paperwork was where it was meant to be, in filing cabinets, in alphabetical order, and not scattered around the room in strange piles that no one understood the reasons for. All the staff were educated on the new computer system he’d had installed. And all staff training was up to date. All in all, the business was finally ready for success. Hudson couldn’t have been happier.

  Well, he could have. But he loved his job, wouldn’t trade it for the world. But it sure was a lonely one.

  When businesses were failing, mostly due to crummy management, it was his job to go in and try to save it. He loved the challenge of his work, the travel, the never knowing where he was going next or how long for. But late at night, alone in his hotel room, he couldn’t help but think of what was missing from his life.

  Getting up from the desk, Hudson logged off the computer for the last time, rubbing his tired eyes. He had been there since four that morning, and it was now nearing midnight.

  Fuck! He really didn’t get paid enough for this. Maybe he should raise his prices?

  Locking up, he posted the keys back through the office door, no longer requiring them, and set off down the street to his hotel. He couldn’t wait to curl up in a nice warm bed and sleep for a week.

  Unfortunately, it seemed that that was never going to happen. Just as he dropped his bag beside the bed and began to remove his shoes, the phone rang. He should have ignored, he really should have, but he just couldn’t turn down a job. He had no family, and due to his work commitments, any close friends. So there was no doubt in his mind that this call was work-related. Who else could it be?

  “Hello? Hudson speaking,” he answered, expecting to hear his secretary’s voice at the end of the phone.

  “I have a job for you,” a dark, almost sinister voice replied, sending a chill down his spine. A knot of fear formed in his stomach. He recognised that voice.

  It had been over a decade, but it wasn’t a voice he would ever forget. I mean, how could anyone forget the voice of the devil? Or as he preferred to be called, Lucifer? But that didn’t mean that Hudson hadn’t wished he could forget.

  “Not interested,” he spoke before he could wimp out. It wasn’t easy to turn the devil down, but by doing it quickly, he couldn’t freak out and cave.

  “Come on now, Hudson. Is that any way to talk to the Lord of Sin? I'm hurt. And anyway, we have a deal.”

  He was right, they did… but someone had messed up, and it wasn’t him. “A deal that you broke.”

  “Broke? I haven’t broken a thing. My part just hasn’t been fulfilled yet, that’s all.”

  That’s all? Well as far as Hudson was concerned, it was the defining matter. Lucifer hadn’t given him what he wanted, at least not all of it. So he wouldn’t give Lucifer what he wanted either.

  “No can do, I'm afraid. Goodnight!”

  Collapsing on the bed, he let his exhaustion drag him under. He would worry about Lucifer, the consequences of turning him down and the deal they had made all those years ago later. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. Lucifer, not liking being told no, kept on ringing though. Every five minutes, as soon as he was drifting off to sleep, the phone would ring and ring. Even unplugging the damn thing didn't stop it from ringing. After a few hours of torture, he decided to just leave and find another hotel, somewhere no one could find him.

  Unfortunately, this was Lucifer he was trying to avoid. The devil. Satan. He should have known better than to even try.

  In the end, after changing to three different hotels within a matter of hours, plain fatigue – and cotton wool in the ears – allowed him to block out the terribly annoying noise, enough to finally collapse into unconsciousness.

  Stretching wide, Hudson opened his eyes to a completely unfamiliar ceiling.