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  Only the Strong

  A Death Gate Grim Reapers Thriller Book Five

  Amanda M. Lee

  WinchesterShaw Publications

  Copyright © 2020 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

  Prologue

  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

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  Books by Lily Harper Hart

  Prologue

  16 years ago

  “Patience.”

  My grandfather sat in a wooden chair in our backyard, a glass of iced tea in his hand, and watched me levitate a log. His voice was soft, his smile easy, and yet he boasted an intensity that had my nerves churning.

  “Patience,” he repeated again.

  I furrowed my brow as I concentrated on the log. It wasn’t overly large, or even heavy. It wasn’t special in any way. It was simply one of the many pieces my grandfather bought from a neighbor so we could enjoy backyard bonfires throughout the summer. Given the heat in New Orleans, I knew the logs wouldn’t be touched until late fall at the earliest. We weren’t exactly known as bonfire people ... which had absolutely no bearing on what I was doing.

  “Patience,” Grandpa hissed when the log began wobbling.

  Even though I knew he was trying to offer me support, there was an edge to his voice. The more I concentrated, the more my control wavered. Sweat broke out on my brow and instinctively I reached up to keep the moisture from dripping into my eye. That turned out to be a mistake. I completely lost the thread of the magic thanks to the distraction and the wobbling log turned into a missile as it shot away from me and slammed into our fence.

  “I guess mentioning you need patience would be a wasted effort,” Grandpa offered as I swiped my forearm across my forehead.

  My temper bubbled and I struggled to keep from snapping at him. It never went well when I lost my temper. He might’ve been my grandfather, a man who sometimes doted on me, but he could be a hardass when he wanted. When it came to magic, he was always a hardass.

  “I did my best,” I muttered, resting my cheek against my knees and closing my eyes. There was a decent wind blowing in from the Mississippi today and it ruffled my dark hair. I found comfort in the steady breeze, enjoying the way it kissed my skin. It was the middle of summer in the French Quarter, which meant the heat and humidity were both off the charts. I’d been a resident of the city for years at this point and yet, still, memories of cooler summers in Michigan invaded my mind at the oddest of times.

  This was one of them.

  “Isabella Sage, you did not do your best.” Grandpa’s tone was full of warning and caused me to cringe. There was nothing I hated more than disappointing him. He only used my first name when suffering from an attack of disappointment, so I knew this was going to be a long conversation. Otherwise he called me Izzy if it was a normal day, and Izzy Bear or Izzy Bee if he was feeling particularly playful. There was nothing playful about his features today.

  I wanted to argue — anything to wipe that look off his face — but I knew he was right. I honestly hadn’t tried my best.

  “You can have a rest and then we’ll go again,” Grandpa supplied, his tone firm. “We won’t break for dinner until you get it right.”

  The declaration, however normal, made me irrationally angry. I snapped up my head and glared at him. “Since when do you get to decide what I can and can’t do?”

  If he was surprised by my reaction, he didn’t show it. “I know you.”

  “Well, I think I know myself better. I say I’m done for the day.”

  “You’re not.”

  “I am.” I slapped my hand against my knee in an effort to vent some of my building frustration. “You can’t tell me how I feel.”

  Rather than immediately respond, Grandpa folded his arms across his chest and regarded me with the steely gaze I’d grown accustomed to. He wasn’t the sort of man who liked to be trifled with. Sure, he was capable of making fun of himself, and even encouraged me to do it at times.

  This was obviously not one of those times.

  “You can’t,” I repeated, refusing to back down. In addition to the magic we both possessed, I also inherited my stubbornness from him. Even though I knew the smarter move was to acquiesce and give him what he wanted, I couldn’t simply cede defeat. That was not who I was.

  He licked his lips and something dark sparked in the depths of his eyes. He wasn’t evil by any stretch of the imagination — in fact, he was the best man I’d ever known — but he was angry. He was about to take out that anger on me. I just knew it.

  Instead, he went the opposite way, throwing me off my game.

  “Tell me what you were thinking when the log started shaking,” he prodded.

  I stilled, surprised by the conversational shift. “Why does that matter?”

  “Because your magic is tied to your emotions. What you’re feeling has a direct correlation to how well your magic works.”

  That sounded made up to me. I wouldn’t put it past him. He’d once told me that eating too much licorice before bed would cause me to spurt dangerous magic from my fingertips in my sleep. It turned out he’d just wanted me to stop eating all the licorice.

  “I wasn’t thinking anything.” I searched my memory. “I was distracted.”

  “By what?”

  I turned sheepish. “I didn’t want the sweat to drip in my eye. It stings.”

  “So, fear of discomfort had you losing control.”

  I hated it when he boiled stuff down to such a basic level. “It was just a log,” I reminded him. “It’s not as if we were dealing with life-or-death stakes. I was levitating a piece of wood. It’s not like they give out awards for that.”

  His eyebrows hopped at the statement but otherwise he remained still. “Is that what you want?” he asked finally. “An award, I mean.”

  I shook my head. “No. I didn’t say that.”

  “You kind of did.”

  “No, I didn’t.” I recognized that expecting a reward in exchange for my abilities was something he would frown upon. I also knew — deep down, at least — that I didn’t want to be the sort of person who charged for helping people. There were women in the Quarter who did that. Most of them hung around Jackson Square, lauding themselves as true practitioners of magic even though the only thing they could conjure was trouble. They were grifters of the highest order and could read people well. They did not, however, possess magic.

  That didn’t stop them from selling the idea of magic.

  “You’re a strong girl, Izzy,” Grandpa offered, his voice softening. “You would have to be to survive what happened to you.”

&n
bsp; My heart rolled at the words. He was referring to my parents, who had been killed in Detroit when a creature crossed the death gate they were supposed to be monitoring and ripped them apart. Somehow I’d survived. How? I couldn’t say. All I knew was that I’d been plucked from the rubble of my house and secreted into my grandfather’s custody. Anything associated with that day had been wiped from my mind.

  “You’re also still growing into your magic,” he added. “Nobody expects you to be perfect.”

  “You do,” I fired back. “All you care about is me being perfect.”

  He wagged a chiding finger and leaned forward. “We both know that’s not true. I don’t expect anything more from you than what is possible to give. However, you’re barely putting in any effort today. Would you care to share with me why that is?”

  I sensed danger. “Um ... there’s no reason. I’m trying.”

  “Not really.” He cocked his head. “You’ve been distracted from the start today. I think I know why, too.”

  Uh-oh. He definitely had trouble on his mind. “I’m not distracted. It’s the heat. You know I don’t do great with the heat.”

  “Oddly, unlike most people who move here from colder climates, you have never fully acclimated to the humidity,” he agreed. “You wilt under extreme heat.”

  “I don’t wilt,” I groused. That sounded like a wimpy word to me. “People don’t wilt. Flowers wilt.”

  “And you’re my little flower.” He winked at me. “It’s not the heat getting to you today, though. I saw you on the street before you returned home for the lesson, down at the corner under the shade of the willow.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “You ... saw ... me?” I swallowed hard. He was about to give me another lecture.

  “I saw you and Jared Graham.” His lips quirked. “You were ... talking.”

  “We were talking.”

  “You were doing a little more.”

  I was horrified at the prospect of him watching us. Jared was one grade ahead of me and considered the catch of the junior high crowd. We’d always been friendly. The past two weeks, that friendliness had turned into a bit more. Thankfully, we hadn’t progressed beyond talking.

  “We weren’t doing anything,” I argued, adamant. “We were just hanging out and ... talking. If you think you saw something else, you’re wrong.”

  Amusement flashed bright in the depths of his eyes. “I wasn’t suggesting that he stole your virtue.”

  It took me a moment to realize what he was saying and I was scandalized. “Grandpa!”

  He laughed, one of those warm chuckles straight from the belly. “You’re twelve, Izzy,” he pointed out. “All I meant by that was I didn’t see any lip action.”

  That didn’t make it any better. “We need to change the subject. I thought you wanted to talk about magic.”

  “We are talking about magic. As I mentioned earlier, your magic is tied to your emotions. Your emotions are out of whack because Jared got your heart rate going underneath the tree. I saw him brush your hair away from your face ... and I saw a good fifty leaves strip from the tree at that exact moment. You did that.”

  I was taken aback. “What? I didn’t do that.”

  “You did. There can be no other explanation.”

  “I ... no. I would’ve realized if that was happening. I’m always aware.”

  He hesitated and then held out his hands. “You’re usually aware,” he conceded. “Hormones are an interesting thing, however, and that’s what will rule your emotions for a good few years.”

  Even though he smiled, I didn’t take it as a compliment. “I know what people say about teenagers and hormones,” I argued. “I’m not a teenager yet ... and I don’t care about hormones. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “Ah, Izzy, you’re my heart. I’m always going to worry about you.”

  “You don’t have to.” I meant it. “I can take care of myself. You’ve taught me how to be strong ... and brave ... and giving. I’m not ruled by hormones.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Of course not.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Fine.” He held up his hands in a placating manner. “You’re not ruled by hormones.”

  “And I’m strong,” I insisted.

  “You’re definitely strong,” he agreed. “That doesn’t mean you’re infallible. Life is going to throw you curveballs at times, Izzy. Things will never come easy for you, not even magic. That’s why you have to practice.”

  “I have no problem practicing,” I reassured him. “I’m just ... really hot today.”

  “Uh-huh.” His smirk was sly. “You’re growing into a lovely young woman, Izzy. I think you’re going to be a fabulous adult. I also think you’re going to be a force to be reckoned with.”

  I preened under the compliment.

  “However, you rest on your laurels,” he continued. “You assume — because you’ve yet to meet anyone as powerful as you — that streak will continue forever. It won’t.”

  I tilted my head, confused. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that you’re strong, but you’re not the strongest being out there.”

  He was so serious I had to swallow to give myself time to collect my thoughts. “Are you worried that I think I’m stronger than everybody else?”

  He nodded. “Sometimes.”

  “I know I’m not,” I offered. “I know there are creatures out there who can rip me limb from limb if they want. There are shifters who are dangerous, and vampires that can be dangerous if raised in nests. I know about all those things.”

  “Yes, you’ve read a lot,” Grandpa agreed. “Yet you haven’t faced those things in real life.”

  I wasn’t so sure. “I think I’ve seen shifters hanging out on the riverwalk at night.”

  He laughed. “Yes, you told me about the full-moon dancing by Cafe du Monde. I still maintain you didn’t see what you think you saw.”

  “And I know what I saw,” I insisted. “It was definitely pack dancing.”

  “If you say so. That’s not the purpose of this conversation, though. I’m not talking about shifters and vampires. Yes, there are numerous creatures out there who are more powerful than you. You’re cunning. I have no doubt you’ll be able to take them down if it becomes necessary.”

  He was doing little to alleviate my confusion. “Okay, then what are you talking about?”

  “There are other types of magical beings out there. I’m not talking creatures with fangs and teeth as much as beings who look human but pack quite the magical wallop.”

  “What sort of creatures?”

  He laughed. “Always the curious sort. I don’t know what sort of creatures, although I can guarantee there will be numerous witches included in that list. That’s not the point of this conversation.”

  I’d long since lost track of the point.

  “The point is that you’re not the strongest magical being in the world,” he continued. “You’re tough ... and bright ... and always thinking. However, there will come a time when you meet your magical match, and you have to be prepared.”

  He was so serious, all I could do was swallow and nod my head. “Okay, what do I do if I meet someone who has stronger magic than me?”

  “You practice to make sure you’re ready. That starts today.”

  Yeah, I should’ve seen that coming. “Why do I feel as if this conversation has gone in a complete circle?”

  “Because you’re as bright as you are beautiful.” He winked at me. “Now, retrieve the log. It’s time to go again.”

  That was the last thing I wanted, but he was training me for a specific reason. I couldn’t lose sight of that. “Okay, but I’m going to want some ice cream for dessert if I have to keep working in this heat.”

  “You’ll have to earn the ice cream.”

  I should’ve known he would say that, too. “Fine.” I threw up my hands and crawled to my feet. “I’ll do it, but I won’t like it.”
>
  “That’s fine. Just try to keep from thinking about Jared Graham’s dreamy eyes when you’re practicing, huh?”

  I wanted to find a hole to crawl into. “I can’t believe you just said that.” I stomped across the yard. “He doesn’t have dreamy eyes.”

  “Your heart feels differently.”

  He was right. It did feel differently. That didn’t mean I would admit to harboring a crush on the neighborhood stud. “A really big bowl of ice cream. I’m going to bathe in it.”

  He chuckled. “We all have different things we want to achieve. At least you have a goal.”

  I did indeed. I wanted to make him proud, and to be ready should I ever run into someone stronger. Those were my main goals.

  Of course, sneaking a kiss from Jared couldn’t possibly hurt either. That was another discussion, though.

  One

  Present Day

  “We’re five minutes out,” Cormack Grimlock announced, strolling into the control room underneath the aquarium on Belle Isle and fixing me with an expectant look.

  “I’m ready,” I reassured him.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I furrowed my brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “It’s the first time, at least to my knowledge, that the gate has ever needed to be rebooted.” He inclined his head toward the empty opening in question. On a normal day, the shimmery surface would be zipping with energy, offering a low-volume hum that served as comforting white noise. Now it was completely devoid of life. “If I were in your position, I would be nervous.”