Excerpt of Grave Witch by Kalayna Price

The first time I encountered Death, I hurled my mother's
medical chart at him. As far as impressions went, I blew it,
but I was five at the time, so he eventually forgave me.
Some days I wished he hadn't—particularly when we crossed
paths on the job.

"Ms. Craft, this is beyond unacceptable." Henry Baker
accented the statement with a plump fist slicing the air
before his face. Behind him loomed Death.

Eighteen years of practice kept my gaze off the jean-clad
soul collector and on my client, whose face darkened from
cherry red to bruised purple. I fingered the spray of
funeral lilies at my side, dreading the direction this
conversation was taking.

"Our contract stipulated I raise the shade. I did."

Baker swatted aside my protest. "You promised me results."

"I said you could ask your questions." I leaned against his
father’s coffin. It wasn't exactly respectful, but I'd just
shoved the senior Baker’s shade back into his body two hours
before his funeral. Respect had nothing to do with this job.
But hey, a paycheck is a paycheck.

Baker turned on his heel and stomped across the aisle. I
waited. I knew what was coming. Baker was a fortune hunter,
a failed one at that, and I'd worked with his like before.

Death followed in Baker's wake. He exaggerated each heavy
step, mocking the chubby man's jerky movements. All the
while, a grin clung to his lips, his dark eyes never leaving me.

This had better be a social visit. I met his gaze, pleading,
warning—I didn't care which—him to leave my client alone. He
flashed a row of perfectly straight teeth, which didn't tell
me anything.

Baker continued to pace.

Well, best get this part over quickly. "According to our
contract, you can pay by cash, check, or money order. Will
you need a receipt?"

Baker jerked to a stop. His eyes bulged, the skin hanging
from his cheeks shaking. "I refuse to pay for this."

Here we go. I shoved away from the casket. "Listen, mister,
you wanted a shade raised. I raised a shade. If dear old dad
didn't say what you wanted, well, that's your problem, not
mine. We have a binding agreement and if—"

He dropped his fist, and his eyes flew wide, startled.

That was simpler than expected. I let out a breath to purge
the rant from my tongue and pasted on my professional smile.
"Now, will you need a receipt?"

Baker gripped his chest and wheezed. Once. Twice. Then, in
slow motion, his neck twisted, his gaze moving over his
shoulder. The amusement melted from Death's face.

Oh crap.

Angel of Death, Soul Collector, Grim Reaper—whatever you
called him, most people only saw him once. He strolled
forward, and Baker stumbled back a step.

Crap. I jumped from the casket platform. "Don't."

Too late.

Thanks for checking out this early sneak-peek excerpt! I
will be releasing the full first chapter closer to the
release date, so check back.