Scary Gary

By

Ofelia Gränd

Scary Gary

Copyright © 2020 Ofelia Gränd

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

The moral rights of the authors have been asserted.

Cover art: Ofelia Gränd

http://www.ofeliagrand.com/

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Acknowledgements

As always there are people behind a story other than the one who wrote it. I don’t think most understand just how much time is invested even in a short story like this one, but those other than me who have invested their time are Amy Spector, Lourenza Adlem Gabi Cervenka, Jean Malherbe, Carole Reid, Susan Lewis and Leonie Duncan. And I’m very grateful they took the time to help me out. You’re my superheroes!

Micah Thaxter pressed his back against the cold brick wall, making sure no part of him was visible outside the shadow of the building. The air was thick with the stench of urine and the moldering trash that littered the alley.

His heart was stuck in his throat, but no amount of swallowing made it drop to his chest where it belonged.

How could he have been this fucking stupid? February meant darkness fell early, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. God, he couldn’t believe he’d allowed it to happen. Again.

After thirty years on this earth, he should be able to keep track of time, but the library had been warm and cozy, the book about the history of European kings and queens captivating, and before he knew it, shadows stretched into the illuminated areas.

He blew out a breath, pushed his glasses into place, and glanced across the street. There was no way he’d make it. If he stepped out into the lit circle underneath the lamppost, his shadow would separate itself from the surrounding shadows and it would come alive.

If he was outdoors when the sun dropped and his shadow got enough light to hold its shape unmarred by any other shades, it got a life of its own. He’d been born this way, had adjusted his existence, and normally all went well. When he wasn’t being stupid or became too engrossed in the lives of long-lost kings, it went well.

His building was right there, his door mocking him from forty feet away, a soft glow coming from his kitchen window. So close and yet so far away.

Filling his lungs with the putrid air, he prepared to run. Every muscle in his body tensed before he leaped. His feet hit the asphalt—one step, two.

A chilling chuckle echoed in his ears. He managed one more step before his shadow no longer followed him. One second it was copying his motions, the next its arms reached for him.

The ghostly fingers grabbed Micah’s shoulders, one hand moved up to curl around his throat as his shadow stepped in front of him to block his path, its feet the only part that couldn’t break free of Micah. The chuckle bled into a manic laugh as black dots invaded his vision.

He tried not to panic, silently praying he wouldn’t have to explain to Gary what had happened. His lungs burned and his pulse thundered. No amount of clawing at the hand choking him made it corporeal. His nails scraped the skin on his throat, but he didn’t have time to think about what the stinging burn or the wetness trickling down his chest meant.

He kicked.

He hit.

He scratched.

But there was nothing there—nothing except laughter.

Gary! Had he been able to, he’d have cried for Gary, begged him to come. Gary. His heart slowed, his shadow tsk-ing in his mind. His body grew heavy right before his knees buckled. The second before the world went black, there was a crack of lightning followed by blue smoke, but despite Micah knowing Gary had arrived, he couldn’t fight the darkness any longer.

***

“Micah. Time to wake up.”

A cold hand lightly slapped Micah’s cheek, and he sucked in a breath. “Stop it.” The croak was a surprise. Though, considering he’d been strangled, it shouldn’t have been.

“Oh, it talks.” Gary’s unimpressed huff would have made Micah smile if he’d had the energy. Squinting at Gary, he noticed they were in his apartment. His small, safe, apartment.

“Are you okay?” The worry in Gary’s voice had hot and cold clashing in Micah’s chest. Those unnaturally blue eyes skidded over his face and he wondered how many scrapes and cuts there were this time.

“Of course. I just missed your cheerful company and was wondering if maybe you’d be up for a nightcap.”

Gary groaned and rubbed his eyes, his shoulders slumping as if Micah had stolen what little energy he had. Guilt, and maybe a little worry, had Micah struggling to sit. There were bloody scrapes on his forearms. Bruises encircled his wrists—that was new. He frowned at them and glanced at Gary.

Gary flew to his feet, pointing a pale finger at him. “Do I need to remind you—” His black cloak billowed around him, blue smoke wafting from around his ankles, and his face etched in stern lines. Had this been the first time Micah had seen him, he’d have been petrified.

“Oh, shut up, Scary Gary. Do you want a drink or not?” Micah refused to acknowledge the way his hands shook and how he wished Gary would sit on the sofa next to him.

“—that you can’t go outside after dark.” Gary sighed and rubbed his forehead, his shoulders slumping as some of the fight—fear?—leaked away.

“I think I was the one who first informed you of that fact.” Micah tried to get up. His entire body ached, but he gritted his teeth and stood. He hated when Gary thought of him as an irresponsible child. All his life he’d had to deal with this shit, and, yes, he should’ve known better, but he’d been...immersed in a history book. He grabbed his glasses off the table and slipped them on. The world didn’t become any brighter, but at least there were no cracks in the glass this time.

“And yet you end up dead more often than not.”

Micah rolled his eyes. “I can’t die. It’s magic.” It was. He refused to allow the familiar sadness to grab hold of him. He’d live forever, trapped in his apartment, unable to go outside once darkness had fallen, and everyone he knew would die. Everyone but Gary.

He glanced in Gary’s direction. The cloak was out of fashion, and a day in the sun wouldn’t hurt, but he was still one of the most attractive men Micah had met—if he could be called a man.

Gary blew out a breath and turned to the window facing the street where Micah had died a little while ago. “There are fates worse than death.”

Too true. “Yeah, but I don’t have to worry because you’re my knight in black armor.” If only. Gary had probably been around since the beginning of time, why would he care for someone like Micah?

The silence stretched for too long. “One day I might not be there.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but when someone dies you come. Crash, boom, bang, and blue smoke, and there you are, scary as fuck unless you know there’s a kind soul within.”

Gary frowned at him.

“Sometimes I see you right before I go, not you, but I see the smoke and the shadow of your cloak and the...” He nodded at the scythe. “Then I die, and when I wake you’re there, yelling at me.” He chuckled hoping Gary would do the same—he didn’t.

Unease pooled in Micah’s gut. Gary was too quiet tonight, too serious. They’d been through this before, many times. Micah only needed a couple of days to recover and he’d be fine. His shadow hadn’t caused too much damage. Stretching, he tested his muscles. Gary had arrived quickly this time—the chill in his core wasn’t biting, the ache in his muscles wasn’t burning, and while he had scrapes and bruises, they would heal soon enough. His throat might be a little worse than normal, but he’d stay inside for a few days so no one would have to worry.

“You think I’m the only one? Have you any idea how many people die every day? You’re in my district, that’s why I come. Should you die somewhere else, someone else would show up.”

Not Scary Gary? Micah had thought he was the grim reaper.

“And not everyone would waste their time fighting your shadow to get to you.”

Ice poured into Micah’s veins. Gary had to fight his shadow to get to him? “There are more of you?”

Gary tilted his head to the side. “You didn’t find it strange when you woke up and found me that first time?”

“Well...” Micah shrugged but regretted it when his shoulders protested. He’d been shocked to see a dark-haired hottie in a cloak instead of the reaper with the gnarly fingers who’d usually been there. The old reaper had never hung around to make sure he was okay, just dragged him into the nearest building and left him. Micah shuddered as he remembered the one time when the old reaper hadn’t brought him indoors, that was how he knew there were fates worse than death. “...I figured you’d gotten promoted or something.”

Gary snorted a laugh. “Promoted? You think this is a promotion?”

“Isn’t it?” The bitterness in Gary’s tone said it wasn’t.

He shook his head. “No, this, my dear, is my eternal punishment for what I’ve done. The reason I showed up is that you were in my neighborhood, so to speak.”

Eternal punishment? Micah wanted to ask. “It was a couple of weeks after I’d moved here, the first time you came instead of him.” Gary nodded. “So if I want it to be you who finds me, I have to die here.” Micah pointed at the floor and tried to remember how far from the apartment the farthest place of death where Gary still had shown up had been.

“This side of the river.”

“The library?”

Gary shook his head. “Is on the other side of the river.”

Micah’s breath caught. Shit, if he’d continued to the next chapter about Henry V he’d never have made it as far as he had before darkness fell. He had to stop reading in the library and bring books home instead. It was just... Sometimes he wanted to, if not talk to people, then at least be around them.

“Why are you frowning?”

He wasn’t, was he? He touched his forehead and smiled at Gary. “Will you... erm... stay for a while? I can get you something to drink.” He staggered toward the kitchen, still a little off-kilter.

“Micah.” Gary grabbed his arm, strong fingers digging into his bicep. “I’m serious.”

“About why I was frowning?”

Gary closed his eyes in frustration but didn’t move away. “No, about you having to be more careful. I’m not sure how fast your shadow can act, but it’s getting more forceful, and I’m not always nearby.”

Not always nearby? Panic crawled into his mind. His shadow had become more powerful. It had gotten out of hand the night the old reaper had allowed it to do what it wanted to the entire night. At dawn, he’d woken for what had to have been the fiftieth time only to find a garbage man trying to find his pulse. Since then his shadow had become more vicious. “Do you think there are other shadow-possessed who have nicer shadows?”

Gary’s cool hand slid down his arm, his slim fingers covering the reddish-blue band around his wrist. “You’re not possessed.”

“Are you sure?” He hadn’t meant to whisper, but could he be sure?

“No demon has ever come close to you while you’ve been living in my territory and there isn’t one in you now.” Gary’s grin was chilling, and it should have bothered him, but Micah was stuck on the part where demons existed. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, though. Gary was a grim reaper, and he was a...something.

“Micah...” Gary’s thumb gently caressed his bruised skin. “I need you to be more careful.”

Tingles rushed up Micah’s arm. “I am careful.” Most days. “What if there is someone out there who’s like me who has a polite, charming shadow that doesn’t destroy their life? Do you think it’s possible to get rid of my shadow?”

Gary stiffened. “No.”

“No?” The answer had come awfully fast. “Are you guessing or do you know?” Micah narrowed his eyes.

“How about that drink?”

Micah didn’t move, and neither did Gary. “You know what I am.”

“You’re Micah.” Gary glanced out the window. “Maybe I should get going.” His skin shone white in the dark, the scythe was leaning against the backrest of the sofa, and the hood of the cloak was pushed off his head to reveal short black hair and chiseled features.

Micah bit his lip, wanting to demand answers but also knowing that if he didn’t change the topic Gary would leave. “You’re such a coward.”

Gary grinned. “Never said I wasn’t.”

So something about Micah scared Scary Gary. That couldn’t be good. “Tea?”

Gary stared. “Tea?”

“It’s a chilly night, I figured we could use something warm and soothing. Or is tea too lame for the lord of the underworld?”

Gary shook his head. “I’m not the—”

Micah laughed at the exasperated look. Gary’s snort only made him laugh harder. “I’m sorry, it must be stress.” Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, but he blinked them away. Why was the world pressing down on him today? Gary was here; Gary made all his problems go away.

Gary’s arm curled around him. “You’ll be the death of me.” The words came in a whisper close to his ear. Time slowed and Micah wished they could stay like this forever. Gary’s strong arm wrapped around him, his body a little cooler than would be considered normal, but not cold. His scent made Micah’s nose tickle. It was a mix of lemon and burning wood, nothing that could be bought in a bottle.

“I thought you were already dead.”

“Ha!” He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I am, and yet I’ll live forever.”

Micah looked up into those electric blue eyes. “Me too.” The frown was small and quickly concealed but Micah saw it. “Won’t I?” Wouldn’t he? It wasn’t fear spreading in his gut, not exactly, but he couldn’t deny the unease.

“As long as I have any power, you will.”

“Gary.” It wasn’t a whine, but close. Micah pushed against Gary’s chest to get away so he could pace, but the arm around his waist didn’t budge. “What are you doing?”

Gary touched his lips to Micah’s, and he forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t more than a brief touch, over too fast for him to comprehend what was happening. He wanted Gary, had always wanted Gary, but he’d seen no signs of Gary wanting him in return.

Micah let out a sigh. “Are you trying to get out of the conversation?”

Gary smiled, his eyes sparkling. “Are we having one?”

“You know we are.”

Gary took a step forward, his body flush against Micah’s as he moved them away from the window and toward the sofa. Micah curled his fingers around the black fabric of the cloak, not sure if he was awake or dreaming.

“Are you in pain?” Gary’s voice was deep and low.

“Not more than usual.” He forgot all about his aches and pains when Gary looked at him like he was doing now. This time when Gary bent to capture his lips he was more prepared. With a soft moan, he wrapped his arm around Gary’s neck to prevent him from breaking away.

“God, Micah.” The desperation in Gary’s voice fueled the need in him. “You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you.”

“So why haven’t you?” Micah fell back on the sofa, bringing Gary with him.

“I don’t want to complicate your life.”

Micah snorted but kissed Gary again instead of responding. What was there to say? His life would always be complicated.

He buried his fingers in Gary’s hair as their tongues met. The heat spreading in his body was almost scorching, and he needed to touch Gary’s skin, needed to feel him. “Can you stay?”

“I want to stay, but my time isn’t my own.” Gary’s fingers dug into his hip in an almost bruising grip as he kissed him again. “I’ll stay for as long as I can.”

Micah nodded. He couldn’t ask for more than that. “Bedroom?”

The grin Gary gave him had his skin buzzing. “Lead the way.”

Micah’s heart thudded in his throat as he got off the sofa and more or less sprinted to the bedroom. It was small, the bed in the corner not meant for two, but it would have to do. Gary’s strong hands caught him from behind, and when Micah slid his palms up the arms, he realized Gary had lost the cloak.

Turning around he took in the naked skin, ghostly pale but still beautiful. Gary wasn’t bulky, but his muscles were defined. As his gaze slid lower, he took in the hard cock and let out a shuddering breath. Gary raised an eyebrow at him, then Micah’s back hit the bed.

His shirt landed on the floor seconds later. “It’ll crease.”

Gary stopped his fiddling with Micah’s belt. “What?”

“The shirt, you threw it on the floor. It’ll crease and the—”

Gary cut him off with a growl. “If your clothes get out of this unrumpled, I’m doing it wrong. It’s been quite some time, but I don’t think I’ve forgotten how it’s done right.”

Before Micah could respond, his jeans hit the floor and Gary’s lips wrapped around his throbbing cock.

“Oh, God.”

Gary snorted but continued to drive Micah crazy with his mouth. The need coursing through him stole his breath and his sanity. It had been too long since he’d been with anyone, and with Gary he didn’t have to pretend he was something he wasn’t. Gary had seen him sobbing and crying as he fought his shadow, had seen him bloody and broken, had seen him dead. And now he would see him come apart in a different manner.

Pulling out the bedside table drawer, he handed lube and a condom to Gary. “Fuck me.”

Gary eyed the condom with skepticism. “Condom?”

“You can never be too careful.”

Gary chuckled but opened the condom and put it on. “Whatever you want, babe, but when was the last time you had a cold?”

Micah raised his knee and curled it around Gary’s hip. “I’ve never had a cold.”

“Because you can’t get sick, hardly anything can kill you. STDs aren’t in our repertoire.”

Hardly anything? Micah pushed his words away. “Didn’t you have sex ed in school?” Micah reached for him, wanting him closer. Gary shook his head but grinned as he bent to kiss him.

“You can never be too careful,” Micah whispered against his lips before covering them with his own.

Gary rolled them to the side, fumbling with the lube, then his finger slid over Micah’s opening. Micah jumped at the slightly cold touch, but instead of protesting, he deepened the kiss. When a finger breached him he groaned and clung to Gary. His body was on fire and he wanted more, wanted Gary to hurry.

Gary must have sensed it because the finger soon became two and at the same time his other hand pumped Micah’s cock. The stretch burned in that maddeningly good way.

“Gary, please.”

Gary groaned and climbed over him so that his chest was against Micah’s back.

“What are you doing?” He’d wanted to see Gary’s eyes.

“I’m left-handed.” To demonstrate he took Micah’s hard length in his left hand and stroked teasingly. “And I want to be able to touch you.” He kissed Micah’s neck, sending a wave of tingles over his skin.

Raising up on his elbow, Gary positioned himself at his opening. The slow breach had Micah moaning. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah.” Gary was trembling, his hand gripping Micah’s hip as he pushed the last of the way inside. “Shit, you’re tight.” A shuddering breath later, he wrapped his hand around Micah’s cock again, and explosions went off behind his eyelids.

“Fuck.” A sizzling need licked at him from the soles of his feet up to his balls, and as his body adjusted to the fullness, he pushed back against Gary.

“Easy, babe.”

Micah didn’t want easy, he wanted it fast, wanted to be consumed by Gary. Trying to get him to thrust into him at a more rapid pace, he rolled his hips.

“Micah.” The word was as much a warning as it was a plea, but Micah didn’t care. He wanted Gary to lose control, to give him what he needed.

“You’ll be the death of me.” Gary’s motions grew more desperate and his hold on Micah tightened in the most delicious way.

“Just fuck me already.” Micah was close to flying, pushing himself onto Gary’s cock only to thrust into his hand the next second. It was all too much. His muscles grew tight, his skin was electric, and Gary’s breaths against his neck had goosebumps erupting over his arms.

With a growl, Gary pushed into him with more fervor, hitting the spot that made him see stars over and over again. Heat rushed through his head and before long he tipped over the edge. A shout escaped him when his body clamped down on Gary as euphoria washed over him.

“Micah.” His name was nothing but a hoarse whisper on Gary’s lips as he wrapped his arms around him and slumped on the bed next to him.

Micah interlaced their fingers and brought Gary’s hand up to rest on his hammering heart. For a few seconds, silence filled the room.

“Fuck.” Gary removed his hand from Micah’s hold and rubbed his forehead.

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean, I have to leave.” He slowly pulled out, making Micah wince, and removed the condom. That’s when Micah noticed the hourglass on the bedside table. It was made of dark, old wood, and there was only a little sand left to run down within the glass. Where had it come from? It hadn’t been there when he’d grabbed the lube and condom, and Gary hadn’t left the bed since.

“Go?”

“Sorry, babe.” He gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Duty calls. I have to go, please understand.” He tied the condom and threw it in the trash. Micah winced again; he’d have to clean that away once Gary had left.

Gary ran a hand through his short hair, stood, and then there was a puff of blue smoke. Micah blinked at a fully dressed Gary, the black hood hiding most of his face. A knot formed in his stomach. He wanted to cling to him, wanted to beg him to stay.

“I’m sorry, Micah, I really have to...” He motioned, and the scythe appeared in his hand. “I have to be there when it’s time for the soul to leave the body.”

Micah nodded. He needed to come up with a way to prevent people from dying so he could keep Gary around.

One second Gary was standing in the middle of the cramped bedroom, the next he was gone.

Micah slumped on the bed, rubbing his eyes. What had he expected? That Gary would spend the night with him, cuddling in bed? What if he never came back? What if it would take Micah dying for him to appear again?

He shot out of bed and hurried into the shower. His body ached in all the right places, and in the wrong ones too. The pains of his injuries coming back now that the high from the sex had been doused. None too gently, he scrubbed his body and washed his hair. Once dry again, he put on a pair of pajama bottoms, stripped the sheets off the bed, and put on clean ones. He emptied the trashcan and paced the apartment before forcing himself to go back into the bedroom.

For several long minutes, he lingered by the window. Frost glittered on the asphalt; the shadows appeared harmless, but they weren’t. For normal people they were, but even if the soul Gary had to go collect or guide or whatever was right outside his door, he couldn’t have gone to him.

Micah didn’t know exactly what Gary did, all he knew was that when he reached the moment when Gary should wield his scythe, he carried him indoors instead.

The old reaper had told him he wasn’t allowed into the realm of death, that the last grains of sand in his hourglass never ran out.

With a sigh, he crawled into bed. Sleep didn’t come easily, but eventually, Micah’s limbs grew heavy and the lonely apartment slipped away.

***

Micah opened his eyes. There was a rustle in the dark room and the fragrance of a fruity tea. Gary leaned against the window frame, the moonlight spilling in, making his skin glow whiter than it was. He cradled a cup in his hands and gazed out on the street. Eerily beautiful.

“You came back.” Micah’s voice was heavy with sleep and he cleared his throat. Gary turned to him.

“I did.” He took a sip before putting the cup on the windowsill. A second later the cloak melted away, smoke curling around Gary’s legs.

“Does it crease when you do that?”

Gary huffed. “No, but I doubt people would care if I was to wear a creased cloak.”

Micah moved closer to the wall to make room for Gary and hissed as he climbed into bed. His body was freezing cold, like ice.

“Sorry. I tried tea for that warm and soothing you mentioned.”

“You’re frozen half to death.” Micah took his hands and rubbed them.

“All the way, actually.” Gary shuddered.

“Was it bad?”

“Not for the human, no. I had to see Charon, though.”

Charon? “And?”

“Still pissed.”

“Oh...perhaps we should go see him another day?” Or perhaps showing up at his doorstep would make things worse.

Gary chuckled. “No, babe. Charon is the ferryman in the land of the dead, and for as long as I exist, you’re not getting anywhere near him.” He was quiet for a long time and Micah debated if he should push for more information or let Gary fall asleep. He’d come back, that was the important thing.

“You’re a harborer of shadows.”

“Of more than one?” Ice filled Micah’s veins. Was there more than one crazy shadow inside of him?

“No, you only have one, but I’ve heard about those who have more than one. The shadows want to escape to roam free. If a shadow succeeds in separating the harborer’s head from his or her body, it will be released.”

Bile rose and Micah touched the claw wounds on the skin of his neck. The shadow always went for his throat, but Micah had believed it was to strangle him. It was most often how he died, from lack of oxygen, but maybe it was because his shadow was trying to sever his head from his body.

“So I can die?”

“Most often a shadow doesn’t stand a chance against its host. The host is a person of flesh and bone, a shadow isn’t corporeal, but yours is getting out of hand. For the last of the sand in your hourglass to trickle down, your head would need to be removed from your body. Dying isn’t enough to end you, but promise me you’ll be careful, more careful than you’ve been. I wish I could be by your side all the time, but I will be called away. My area is large and I haven’t had a single day without someone dying.” Gary turned, so he was on his back and guided Micah to rest his head on his chest.

Micah shivered, but little by little Gary was warming up. “Is it always this cold when you go to see the ferryman?”

Gary nodded. “Always this cold.”

“But you got out of there?”

Gary kissed his forehead. “I did. And now I’ll walk the earth, or I will walk the Eastern District, for eternity.”

“As punishment?” While Micah was glad Gary was bound to the area he lived in, he didn’t want him to wish he was somewhere else.

“Yeah. To cut a long story short, I tried to steal a man from Charon’s ship and bring him back to the land of the living.”

“Why?”

“I thought I loved him, and he didn’t want to die. I didn’t want him to die either. I can’t cross the river to see the ones I’ve brought there.” Gary lazily trailed his fingers up and down Micah’s spine. “The moment I harvest someone’s soul with my scythe, we’re transported to the riverbank by Styx where Charon takes over. I believed I could bring us back to the land of the living before he saw us.” He scoffed.

“But...you were already a grim reaper?” Perhaps he’d been born a grim reaper.

“Yeah, but that was for trying to cheat my way out of my death.” He chuckled. “I was young and foolish, not to mention angry at having died so young, and thought the old man on the ferry wouldn’t notice if I sneaked away. I was condemned to be a grim reaper for a hundred years. As punishments go, it’s a mild one.”

Micah didn’t know how to respond to that. “But you tried to do it again, a second time?”

“I never claimed to be smart.” Gary chuckled. “Bad decisions might have brought me here, but I’m not complaining.” He hugged Micah closer. “Sleep, babe. Unless someone dies, I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Every day?”

“For as long as you want me to, but even if you decide you don’t want me, I’ll never let the shadow win.” Gary kissed his forehead again.

“I’ve always wanted you.” Micah closed his eyes, thinking he needed to get a bigger bed. Not that he minded cuddling, but he moved around a lot when he slept, and he didn’t want to accidentally hit Gary.

“And I’ve always wanted you. I thought it was a shame when I first was called to your death, then realized you weren’t up for grabs. Harborers are so rare, a myth among reapers, I didn’t know what was going on. The way your shadow fought...” Gary shook his head.

“I’m up for grabs.” Micah grinned in the dark.

Gary’s arm tightened around him. “Nah, you’re taken.”

About the Author

Ofelia Gränd is Swedish, which often shines through in her stories. She likes to write about everyday people ending up in not-so-everyday situations, and hopefully also getting out of them. She writes contemporary, paranormal, romance, horror, Sci-Fi and whatever else catches her fancy.

Her books are written for readers who want to take a break from their everyday life for an hour or two.

When Ofelia manages to tear herself from the screen and sneak away from husband and children, she likes to take walks in the woods...if she’s lucky she finds her way back home again.

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