Life or Death? Not many people would choose death. But what if death chooses you? What if death doesn’t mean the end of your life, but the beginning?
For a Death Escort, death is life. Death is your paycheck. Death is your job.
And Charming is the best Escort the Grim Reaper has ever had.
But when you piss off the Reaper, being the best doesn’t matter. So Charming is assigned a Target who is practically impossible to kill. He knows the Reaper hopes he fails—that he’s counting on it. So Charming vows to prove him wrong. He vows to make the kill.
But someone else vows to get in his way. Someone with a big mouth, a sugar habit, and blond hair. Someone who makes his heart start beating again.
And so Charming is left holding more than one person’s fate in the palm of his hand. He thought the choice would be easy, that there really wasn’t a question at all.
Life or Death?
ABOUT CAMBRIA HEBERT
Cambria Hebert is the author of the young adult paranormal Heven and Hell series, the new adult Death Escorts series, and the new adult Take it Off series. She loves a caramel latte, hates math and is afraid of chickens (yes, chickens). She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair. She currently lives in North Carolina with her husband and children (both human and furry) where she is plotting her next book. You can find out more about Cambria and her work by visiting http://www.cambriahebert.com
“Like” her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cambria-Hebert/128278117253138
Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/cambriahebert
Cambria’s website: http://www.cambriahebert.com
CHARMED EXCERPT NUMBER ONE
Red. It’s all I could see. It was all around me, everywhere. At this rate I wouldn’t have one drop of blood left in my body. How long did it take someone to bleed out? How long until their organs, their heart had nothing left to fuel them? A minute? Five?
What I couldn’t understand is why I wasn’t in pain. Surely with this much blood pouring out of my skin I would feel some kind of raw pain. But there was nothing.
Nothing but red.
Why was it suddenly so quiet? I could hear nothing—not even the sound of my own breathing. Then I realized. The hush in the air was because everyone was watching me die. They were likely wondering the same thing I had been moments before: How long? I needed to get up, to prove to them that I wasn’t going down like this. I wasn’t going to die in a fight I should have won—a fight that was rightfully mine.
I stopped thinking completely when I practically flew up off the ground. An overwhelming dizziness overcame me, so disorienting and unsettling that my insides buzzed with discomfort.
I was upright, my body springing up so fast that I hadn’t even consciously tried to move it. Still, all I saw was red. How could someone bleed so much and move so fast?
I looked down at myself, taking stock, mentally preparing for the sight of my blood-drenched body…
Only I wasn’t bleeding.
And my body… it wasn’t there.
In the place of skin and bone was nothing but a fine red mist—a red cloud that was shaped like a man—like me.
Tentatively, I reached out my arm (was it really still my arm?) and watched the red mist dissipate like smoke from a cigar.
I must already be dead.
This cloud—this red—was all that was left of me, left of my life?
I looked up, beyond myself, and saw that I wasn’t in the ring anymore. I was in a room. An office. It was large, uncluttered and had a huge row of floor-to-ceiling closets lining the wall behind a massive desk.
It was clear this wasn’t heaven. But it didn’t seem like hell either.
I watched as the large leather chair behind the desk began to swivel around, slowly turning, and if I had a throat I would have swallowed thickly.
There was something ominous about the way that chair turned, something final. I knew it down to my core.
A boney man with a wide forehead and shrewd eyes appeared, steepling his fingers beneath his chin and regarding me in a way that did nothing to soothe my confusion.
“You’re dead,” the man said simply. “But you don’t have to be for very long.”
“I don’t?” I replied, surprised when my voice echoed through the room. How does one speak without a mouth?
He smiled. It was the kind of smile that I’d seen before. The kind the boxer gave me right before he killed me in that dirty fight.
“I have a proposition for you,” he began, pulling his hands down from under his chin and pushing out of the chair. “One that you won’t be able to refuse.”
And so just minutes after I lived the moment that defined my life forever… I also lived the moment that would forever define my death.