Reaper of Souls: A fantasy short story by Holly Copella Page B

weeks later.  Reggie sat
on the porch, stared blankly at the woods, and spun the opal ring on her
finger.  She was lost in her own world.  She actually hadn’t been right since
Dylan’s abduction.  She knew calling it an abduction was wishful thinking, but
she didn’t want to give up hope.  A police car pulled up to the house.  Sheriff
Martin got out and walked onto the porch with a tiny, pleasant smile.
    “Evening,
Reggie,” Martin said.
    Reggie
attempted a smile.  “Hey, Sheriff.”  She shifted in her chair.  “Anymore leads
on my brother’s abduction?”
    Martin casually
sat on the railing facing her.  “No, Reggie, I’m sorry.  I know you’re dealing
with this the best that you can,” he said, “but you know he couldn’t have
survived that sort of attack.”
    “I broke into
the room only seconds after the attack ended,” she insisted.  “Whoever did this
wouldn’t have had time to remove his body--especially from the second story window. 
He has to be alive.”
    “I don’t know
what to think, Reggie,” the sheriff said with a defeated sigh.  “We didn’t find
any blood outside the house.  There’s not enough evidence to support any
theory.”
    The faint sound
of a creature was heard wailing from somewhere within the woods.  Martin looked
toward the nearby woods.
    “What’s that?”
the sheriff asked.
    “A wolf, I
think,” she replied and rubbed her chilled arms.  “It started a few nights
ago.”
    “Sounds like
it’s sick.  You’d better be careful,” he announced.  “If it comes around the
house, call me, and I’ll put it down.”
    †
    T wo days later.  Reggie sat
at the island counter while eating dinner alone.  She stared at the wineglass
in her hand as Dylan’s screams from that night echoed through her mind.  Her emotionless
expression suddenly hardened.  Reggie threw the glass across the kitchen, and
it shattered against the back, French doors.  Red wine ran down the glass. 
Brady stood on the other side of the door with a look of surprise.  Reggie saw
him, rolled her eyes, and groaned softly.  Brady opened the door without being
invited and offered a tiny, sympathetic smile.
    “Did I pick a
bad time?” he asked.
    “Yes, a very
bad time,” she replied while standing then indicated the broken glass.  “If you
don’t mind, I have some cleaning to do.”
    “I thought I’d
see how you were holding up,” he said, sounding moderately drunk.  “I guess I
was right to be worried about you.”
    “Are you drunk
again?”  Her look was harsh as she approached and pushed him back toward the
open doorway with a firm hand to his chest.  “Out, Brady.  I’m not in the mood
to deal with you.”
    Reggie pushed
him out the door and onto the patio.  She was about to take a step back inside
when he caught her arm, startling her.  She immediately turned hostile.
    “Don’t be this
way, Reggie,” he said firmly.  “We were meant to be together.  Now that Dylan
is gone, you need someone to look after you.”
    Reggie pulled
her arm away from him.  “I’m looking after me!”
    He caught her
by both arms and forcibly held her.  His look was stern and aggressive.  “No
more games, Reggie.  You need to start acting like my girlfriend.  You’re the
only woman I’ve ever really wanted, and I’m tired of waiting.”
    She glared into
his eyes with an unpredictable look.  “You’re right.  No more games.”
    Reggie suddenly
kicked for his groin.  He reacted quick enough to take the shot to his thigh
instead.  Brady cried out in pain from the sharp thigh shot and released her. 
She attempted to punch him in the mouth, but he dodged it and shoved her backwards. 
Reggie struck the glass door, cracking the glass with the back of her head. 
She clutched her head and appeared unable to move.
    Brady
straightened and again grabbed her by the arms.  “You need to be taught a
lesson--”
    A low, gurgled
snarl was heard from nearby.  Brady stared at