Only the Quiet Read online

  Only the Quiet

  A Death Gate Grim Reapers Thriller Book Two

  Amanda M. Lee

  WinchesterShaw Publications

  Copyright © 2019 by Amanda M. Lee

  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.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  24. Twenty-Four

  25. Twenty-Five

  26. Twenty-Six

  27. Twenty-Seven

  28. Twenty-Eight

  29. Twenty-Nine

  30. Thirty

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  One

  “Did you hang out with them?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Did they know what you are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you guys ever talk about anything important?”

  “Once we had an illuminating discussion on why your mother wouldn’t eat oranges.”

  I furrowed my brow, confused, and stared hard at Oliver Samuelson. I was relatively new on the job, so I’d yet to become comfortable with my co-worker’s moods. We’d been working together for only two and a half weeks and we’d already undergone a tense situation that resulted in another of our co-workers dying at my magical hands — she had it coming, don’t worry — so I’d taken to endlessly questioning him the past ten days thanks to the information he let slip during that encounter.

  He wasn’t taking it well.

  “My mother didn’t eat oranges?” I racked my memory for any hint that I knew that. I remembered very little about my mother. Mostly images gathered from the terrifying night something came through the death gate and killed her and my father, but seemingly sparing me for no particular reason. I was back at the death gate now in an official capacity. I was the Belle Isle gatekeeper. And Oliver, apparently a vampire, was a fixture in this location as far back as when my father served as gatekeeper ... and he was tightlipped when it came to sharing information about my parents. I found it irritating.

  “You have to tell me something,” I prodded, frustration bubbling up. “You can’t drop a bomb — like you knew my parents before they died — and not say a single thing ever again. That’s not fair.”

  Oliver, attractive in a classic Hollywood Cary Grant sort of way, let loose an exaggerated sigh. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?”

  “Yes.” I saw no reason to lie. I, Isabella “Izzy” Sage, had been called annoying more times than I could count. Frankly, I was over it. “Before you get all high and mighty, you’re annoying, too. In fact, I think you’re more annoying than I am.”

  Oliver arched an eyebrow, amused. “Then I must really be annoying.”

  “You have no idea. You’re also kind of mean.” I didn’t enjoy tossing around the word “mean” willy-nilly. It was very teen movie, and I liked to think I was above that. Still, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that Oliver was purposely keeping information from me ... and I hated it.

  “I’m mean?” Oliver checked an intake sheet and shook his head. “The Grimlocks are missing a delivery from last night.”

  He acted as if he was concerned about work — we serve as the ferrying system for souls after death, the last stop in this world before they move over to the next — but I knew better. He was bringing up the Grimlocks, a local reaper family I’d met upon moving back to the Detroit area, because he wanted to distract me with thoughts of dark hair, purple eyes and lean muscles. Well, I had news for him: I wasn’t going to be easily distracted. “You have to tell me at least one thing.”

  He slowly slid his eyes to me and I could read the conflict in them. “Izzy ... .”

  “You have to.” I was firm. “I barely remember them. I want to know something important. Like ... did you know me when I was a kid?”

  He slowly nodded. “You were around the gate all the time,” he acknowledged. “They set up a spot for you right over there.” He pointed toward an empty corner. “You always had the same blanket. It was purple and had some sort of cartoon character on it. You would sit there and draw for hours.”

  Well, that was something. I didn’t know what to make of the tidbit, but it was something. “I still draw. I mean ... I haven’t since I got here. We’ve been kind of busy. But I still draw.”

  “You had quite the imagination, as I recall.” Oliver watched me with contemplative eyes. “You know, dwelling on the past won’t help anyone. You should look forward, not back.”

  I appreciated the sentiment – not really but I liked to pretend I did – but I wasn’t about to let him opt for an easy escape when he was finally opening up about the past. “Did you ever talk to me?”

  “Of course I talked to you. I worked here for years with your parents. They weren’t always gatekeepers. For a time, they ran the boathouse and served as assistants at the gate. Were you aware of that?”

  I wasn’t aware of much when it came to my parents’ tenure on Belle Isle, a small island in the Detroit River between Michigan’s automotive capital and Windsor. The island was essentially a 982-acre park that featured a yacht club, aquarium, casino, boathouse, nature center and conservatory. It’s connected to Detroit by a bridge. It’s not too large or special ... and yet I found it magical. Of course, that could have something to do with the death gate located beneath the aquarium, an opening between worlds that occasionally whispered to me. I rarely admitted that to anyone.

  “I didn’t know they were assistants,” I admitted after a beat. “I don’t remember them very well.” And that right there was a big rip in the fabric of my very makeup. My parents died while protecting me — that’s what the few memory shards I can recall tell me — and yet I barely remember them. They died when I was seven, and I was raised by my grandfather in New Orleans after that. I joined the reaper academy fresh out of high school and set my sights on returning here as soon as possible. Why? Even I wasn’t sure. I felt I needed to be here. As an overachiever, that meant becoming one of the youngest gatekeepers ever ... and taking an assignment absolutely nobody wanted.

  “I’m sorry you don’t remember them.” Oliver appeared sincere. “They were good people and they loved you a great deal. They wouldn’t want you fixating on their deaths this way. That’s not who they were.”

  “You can say that because you knew them. I don’t remember them.”

  “Which doesn’t seem fair.”

  “It’s definitely not fair,” I agreed. “I’m not asking you to spill their secrets or anything.” Not yet, I silently added. “I just want to know ... something.”

  He pursed his lips. “Fine. Your sixth birthday party was held in the aquarium. There weren’t a lot of kids around, but all the workers came and brought you presents. I gave you a stuffed dog that you carried around until ... it happened. Your parents thought it was funny because you immediately fell in love with the dog and tried to walk it on a leash. Your father actually bought a leash
for the stuffed dog because you insisted that dogs weren’t allowed on the island if they weren’t restrained and you didn’t want him taken away.”

  “Max,” I murmured, surprised. “You gave me Max.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You remember the dog?”

  “I still have him. He’s in my room right now. He’s one of the few things I still have from my childhood. Everything else was ... destroyed.” That included the house I’d shared with my parents. It was no longer in existence and no one had bothered to rebuild, which is why I lived in an apartment on the second floor of the boathouse instead of in a regular house. Of course, that was a relief. I didn’t want to return to the abode where my parents died.

  “You still have him?” Oliver’s eyes lit with amusement. “That’s fairly funny. I’m glad you still have him, though. For some reason it makes me happy.”

  He cracked a smile and then shook his head. “We need to focus on work. With Renee gone, we’re down a body.”

  Renee was another sore spot between us. She’d been his co-worker for a long time. I’d killed her almost two weeks ago — using the Bruja magic passed down to me by my mother and grandfather — and we’d barely talked about it since. Oliver stood with me in that fight, and I had no doubt he would’ve killed Renee himself if it came to it, but he never mentioned her or what I’d done. It was as if he was avoiding the subject.

  “I’m going to talk to the home office about getting someone else in here,” I offered, uncomfortable. “I’m not sure when that’ll happen. I’m sorry if you’re working too many hours.”

  “I’m fine with the hours.”

  “Yeah, but ... .”

  “I’m fine with the hours … for now,” he repeated. “We do need to get another person in here in case of an emergency. The two of us cannot handle everything ourselves. There’s a reason this has always been a three-person job.”

  “I’ll make a call this afternoon,” I promised. “I meant to do it sooner, but ... well ... it seems weird to request a replacement for the woman I killed.”

  Oliver snorted. “It was her or you. You did what you had to do.”

  “Yeah, but ... she’s still dead. She was also your friend.”

  “I don’t know that I would consider her a friend,” he hedged. “We were acquaintances. We had a few good times. It doesn’t matter now. She’s gone and we need to move forward.”

  That was a fairly brutal opinion. “It’s not always that easy.”

  “It should be.” He forced a smile that didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “Tell me about what’s going on with you. Are you and Braden Grimlock officially an item?”

  My mouth dropped open at the ridiculous question. “Um ... no! Why would you think that?”

  “I’ve seen you two together.”

  Oh, well, that was simply ... absurd. Braden was handsome, sarcastic and completely full of himself. During my first few days on the job, when a rogue wraith had traveled through the gate and enhanced itself to the point it became a legitimate threat to all of us, we’d been forced to work together. A brief flirtation grew out of that interaction, but it had since died ... and I wasn’t bitter about it at all.

  “You haven’t seen us together lately,” I pointed out.

  Oliver furrowed his brow. “No, but I thought he was sent to that conference in Florida.”

  I frowned. What conference in Florida? I didn’t know anything about a conference in Florida. Of course, I didn’t want to know about that conference ... or what else he did in his free time. I told myself over and over that was true. I almost believed it.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I made a big show of averting my eyes. “He hasn’t been around. That’s all that’s important.”

  “But ... he’s been emailing.”

  My cheeks colored under his intense gaze. How could he possibly know that? “We should focus on our work,” I said crisply, gesturing toward the computer monitor. “You said the Grimlocks were down one delivery. Perhaps you should call them.”

  “Perhaps you should call them,” he shot back. “You’re the boss.”

  “Yes, but I think it would be better for everyone if you called.”

  “I could do that,” he offered, the corners of his mouth tipping up. “But if I call them, you have to go up to the main floor and help with the tour.”

  I stilled, legitimately confused. “What tour?”

  “The one Tara is running in the aquarium,” Oliver replied without hesitation. “Renee was supposed to help her, but ... .”

  Renee was dead, I silently finished. I’d burned her alive in front of witnesses and felt almost no remorse. She was evil and intended to hurt as many people as possible before fleeing the island, enhancing herself like the wraiths she’d employed. I stopped her, which was the right thing to do. That didn’t mean she didn’t occasionally invade my dreams.

  “The tour with the kids from the deaf school,” I remembered, my stomach twisting. “I forgot that was today.”

  “I believe they’re up there now,” Oliver prodded. “One of us has to go up and help Tara. The other has to remain down here ... and call the Grimlocks about their failed delivery.”

  Oh, well, that was just great. I had two choices, and both filled me with dread. “I kind of think you planned it this way,” I complained as I stood, smoothing down my basic black shirt as I straightened my frame. “I’m not sure how you planned it — perhaps you’re in cahoots with the Grimlocks, I don’t know — but I’m positive you planned it.”

  He snickered. “Yes. I often find myself in cahoots with reapers. That’s a fun word, by the way.”

  “My grandfather always uses it.” I turned wistful for a moment. My grandfather had been distant since I joined the reaper academy, but he kept in touch despite his passive-aggressive attitude. He’d been downright chilly since he found out I was returning to Detroit, however. We’d taken to emailing each other about the weather and nothing else, which was difficult because we’d always been close. I refused to kowtow to him, though. When he wanted to make up, he would call me ... but not before. “I guess I picked it up from him.”

  “Yes, well ... I’m guessing you’re heading up to help with the tour.”

  “You guess right. You can call the Grimlocks.”

  “Uh-huh.” His expression was full of mirth, which agitated me to no end. “If I talk to Braden, is there a message you would like me to share with him?”

  “Nope. I have nothing to say to him.”

  “Well ... then have fun with the kids.”

  “It’ll be fun.” That was a lie, but I didn’t want him to know he’d gotten to me. Instead, I pasted a fake smile on my face and strolled out of the room, not letting it slip until I was at the stairs and could really think about what I was about to do.

  It’s not that I hate kids. I don’t particularly like them, but I don’t outright hate them. I hate being the center of attention. Plus, well, these kids are deaf. I wasn’t sure how to communicate with them. Once, when I was in fifth grade, I checked out a book on sign language from the library. I was determined to learn another language and that seemed a good one. After the first few chapters, I lost interest. All I remembered was the alphabet and a few basic words ... like “hello” and “how are you.” Those might come in handy now.

  Tara, the woman who worked in the aquarium and served as something of a liaison between departments, was already in the main room when I exited through the private door that led to the gate room. I made sure to latch it so none of the kids could accidentally discover our biggest secret — explaining to a parent why a gate that separated different veils was located in the basement of the aquarium would be a nightmare — and smiled at the kids as I moved to join Tara. She looked relieved when she saw me, but I didn’t miss the flash of irritation that lurked in her eyes.

  “You’re late,” she muttered under her breath as the children’s teacher, a pretty woman with busy hands communicated with them in front
of one of the tropical fish aquariums. “You were supposed to be up here ten minutes ago.”

  “We’re dealing with a late delivery. I had to take care of that. I’m sorry.” That was a bit of an exaggeration. I’d forgotten about the tour until Oliver reminded me. Still, Tara didn’t need to know that. “How many kids?”

  “Only fifteen of them, which is a relief.”

  “They don’t look so bad.” I grinned broadly at a dark-haired boy as he moved closer to the glass enclosure. He cast me the occasional look, as if he didn’t trust me or was trying to feel me out, but didn’t say anything. Of course, I had no idea if he could say anything.

  I decided now was the time to dust off my rusty sign language.

  How are you?

  I signed the question slowly to make sure the hand gestures were correct.

  The boy didn’t look impressed. He merely stared at me as if I’d sprouted another head.

  “She asked you a question, Granger,” the teacher spoke as she signed, which was apparently for our benefit. “You should answer her.”

  The boy narrowed his eyes, suspicion evident as he looked me up and down.

  “It’s okay,” I said hurriedly. “He doesn’t have to answer. I’m a stranger to him. Perhaps his parents taught him not to speak to strangers.”

  “Yes, but you’re here in an official capacity.” She kept signing and speaking at the same time. “Manners are important, aren’t they, Granger?”

  The boy looked at her for a long time. Instead of raising his hands to talk back, he opened his mouth ... and took me by surprise.