His Name Was Death (Dead Man's Tale Book 1) by J. Eric Hance Page A

this Reaper chosen his name yet?”
    Elliott mewed, shaking his head. “No, he refused.”
    The stare turned to me. “What’s your name, Reaper?”
    I growled menacingly, looking down at him. “Henry Michael Richards.”
    Joshua pushed me hard in the chest, and I stumbled back several steps.
    “What’s your name, Reaper?” His voice was tense and tight.
    My anger boiled just below the surface, barely contained. I strode quickly back to Joshua, until we stood toe to toe. My words were barely a whisper, short and clipped. “Henry…Michael…Richards.”
    Joshua pushed me again, his strength surprising for a man of his age. I slammed up against the wall. I looked up, ready to lunge at him, but Joshua had already crossed the gap, his face in mine.
    “What is your name, Reaper?”
    The dam burst.
    Every emotion, every frustration, every loss, it all came rushing forth in an uncontrollable torrent. I was dead. I’d lost Michelle. I’d lost Steve.
    I’d lost everything.
    My scream was inhuman.
    I reached out for Joshua, grabbing him by the lapels. My new body was strong like I’d never known before; in a single smooth motion I spun and rammed him into the wall, pinning him over a foot off the floor.
    I heard something snap at the impact.
    Elliott yowled behind me.
    Yelling, I spit the words into his face. “ Henry!  Michael!  Richards!”
    Joshua gasped, wincing; pain was plainly etched across his face.
    My anger evaporated in an instant. I released him and stumbled back.
    He landed heavily, leaning forward over his cane, and this time there was no doubt he’d fall over without it. Joshua took several shaky, shallow breaths, before calmly addressing Elliott as if nothing had happened.
    “Michael, his middle name, will work for now. It doesn’t exactly break the rules.” He looked at me. “Michael Reaper, I think…it’s as close as we can get to ‘John Doe.’” He smiled weakly.
    “Yes, sir,” the cat responded softly.
    “Joshua, I…” I tentatively stepped forward.
    He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “Listen, son, you’re going through a hell of a lot, and I know you want answers. Hell, I want answers.” He sighed. “Neither of us is getting them.”
    He took a long, deep, shaky breath before continuing. “Like it or not, you’re a Reaper now. I honestly don’t know what will happen if you ignore your assignments. This is all new territory. I doubt it’ll be as easy as you think.”
    Joshua shuffled forward with his cane, wincing at every step. He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder; it was oppressively heavy. “Good luck…I mean it. You know where to find me, if you need anything—anything at all.”
    I stood in shock as he turned slowly and departed.
    I’d never been that angry before. It left me feeling drained and empty. I’m not sure how long I stood frozen like that.
    A burning need to apologize overwhelmed me suddenly. I darted out into the hallway to find Joshua.
    Of course, he wasn’t there.
    But I wasn’t alone.
    A sultry female voice from across the hall caught me off guard. “Well, my new neighbor is a Reaper. What will that do to the property values?”
    In my haste, I’d failed to notice the woman. As I looked now, my new Sight presented a slightly disorienting double image.
    To the naked eye, a woman in her late twenties stood at the door across from mine, withdrawing her key from the deadbolt. She didn’t quite reach my shoulder, standing maybe five foot two. Long blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and bright blue eyes mirrored the easy smile on her lips.
    Her features were clearly Caucasian, but tinged with the barest hint of Asia: someone generations back had dipped their toe in another gene pool, at a time when such things must still have been very taboo. It gave her a comfortably familiar look that also managed to suggest a touch of the exotic. Her clothing was simple and casual: jeans, light pink blouse, and sandals.
    There was nothing